Semester Three, Week One

I am an emotional masterpiece. Or wreck. Or whatever you want to call it. Or, perhaps in mental health terms, I am labile. Whatever it is, I am a ball of mania.

This week was emotionally, cognitively, and physically taxing. For one, I failed my clinical math exam. Yeah, that's the one that you have to get a 100% on, or you're done. I made a stupid error on two problems, miscalculating the dose. I have one more try on Monday. I have not come so close to losing it as I did on Wednesday. I feel like I can correct my error(s) and progress, but a little part of me doubts this.

I progressed on. My instructor would refer to this as utilizing my coping skills in reference to the crisis I was facing.

I have felt all week like I am going to fail. Fail mental health. Fail math. Fail nursing school. I was imagining what life would be like, failing. How I'd tell friends, family, co-workers, the random people who know how desperately hard I am attempting to complete and pursue my dream of becoming a registered nurse.

But I got to tell you, God spoke to me twice this week. Great, you think. She's making it spiritual.

Hear me out.

For one, on Wednesday night, in the throes of full-blown panic and anxiety regarding my impending first exam, I was invited to a Bible study. I replied to the invite that I couldn't; heck, I had a test to study for and that was clearly the priority.

And then, in a whisper, God asked me:
"Who's your Master?"

Well then, the choice was clear, and I attended and left feeling slightly refreshed and having things in better perspective. It didn't totally stop my mania, but it sure helped.

And so, I studied in the days to follow. And studied. And studied.

(P.S. My new living arrangements are beyond fantastic.)

Last night and this morning, the old fears came back in force, and I felt like the end of my nursing school career was coming to a rapid end. I imagined an impossible exam, unable to process higher application questions, slugging through, and failing.

I studied this morning before the test, which is uncharacteristic of me, but the pressure was real, it was on, and I had to give this my best effort.

So, I was freaking out, stopped studying because I had to be realistic; I either knew the information or I didn't. No other way around it. There I was, in a secluded area of school, and I spent a moment with God. I was panicking. My anxiety was palpable.

And there, in the calm, and in the quiet, I heard the Holy Spirit whisper, like a passing wind, "I am with you." In in that fleeting moment, there was peace.

I took the exam, nervous, shaky. I didn't know the first answer. The second was dicey. And then, it started rolling together, smoothly, and the fear became replaced with confidence and I submitted my exam.

Class policy allows us to then re-take the exam with our peers, in pre-formed groups, open book, open note. When our group went over the exam, I saw that I had missed only 5 or 6. And, so long as you have independently passed with a 77%, taking the group exam allows for three extra points to be added on to your grade.

Class average: 79%
My grade: 93%

It is here in the calm, the quiet that I have yet to find a way to release my anxiety. I still feel tense inside. So nervous I could puke. Optimistic. Cautious. Aware that this is only the beginning.

Progression.

Semester Three--It Begins

I'm one day away from beginning third semester.

I graduate in May 2016.

It's been a busy summer; I completed two online courses to progress in pursuing my BSN, and thankfully earned A's. I also had a "medical" summer with a definitive diagnosis and treatment of the knee problems I bemoaned over all last year. Turned out to be a simple tracking issue, and after three hefty injections under my knee cap, I am more or less cured.

I also had my wisdom teeth out, which turned out to be the medical disaster of 2015, with dry socket and infection.

I briefly dated someone, but that ended nearly as soon as it began once I realized how incompatible we truly were. It still sucks, though. Break ups always do.

I worked full-time on a med-surg unit and am really incredibly grateful for such a wonderful, challenging, educational experience.

At academic advising on Thursday, my advisor told me this is reportedly the most difficult semester yet. Upon inquiry, I was told that more is expected from a third semester student, knowledge is to be already a given (ie: they're not teaching you what you should already know) and my skill set is taken up a notch with more acute care.

The first eight-ish weeks of the semester are mental health, a course in which I have absolutely no background in, There's also advanced pharmacology and then later on, in October, advanced concepts of med-surg.

Initial thoughts are a) fear of failure b) fear of the unknown. I go through this every semester, and thus far, I've successfully convinced myself all throughout that I am going to fail. There's no other way to look at it. I am the future Miss Nursing School Failure. (Have I mentioned that I'm neurotic?)

Clearly, my trust in God is lacking, because even though He's brought me this far, I doubt He'll continue on in His faithfulness. (Awesome).

I received multiple grants and scholarships, so it looks like I'll be graduating with no debt, which is fantastic.

I'll be house sitting for third semester for $200 a month (another answered prayer) and hopefully having an abundance of time to devote to my studies.

I cannot exactly anticipate what this semester holds. I'm just ready to jump in and (hopefully) pass.

Off we go.