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.
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