Note: I've edited this about thirty times, so please, keep in mind that if you find any grammatical or spelling mistakes, well, it is what it is -nothing new. I should put this disclaimer on every post. :)
You're probably tired of reading about my back-to-school ventures, but since today was the first day of class, I couldn't resist just one more post on the subject (at least for a while).
I have been so excited for this new chapter in my life.
I was quietly reading the Sunday paper, when out of the blue, cold fear washed over me. I ended up in a doozie of a panic, moaning, "What am I thinking?" Since my Mom isn't around for me to whine at, I did the next best thing; I called my Grandma.
As soon as I heard her voice, I promptly burst into tears. I gave her my best "oh-poor me-I'll never get this-how will I manage-my family will suffer-I will be the biggest, oldest dork in class-and I'll fail miserably" speech. She gently but firmly reminded me that I'm already a step ahead of the college game and pointed out the advantages that I have over so many others. "One day at a time", she advised. "When you've kayaked too far and think you can't make it back home, just remember, one paddle at a time. You'll get there." "Savor each day and when you have bad days (and you will), focus on the end result and what you want out of this". Such sound advice - I wish I could bottle it.
After my talk with Grandma, I felt much better. But then, those ominous hours of dark rolled around, and I found myself sleepless; so much so that I was awake most of the night imagining worst-case scenarios while I attempted to persuade my brain to take a break and rest.
I wrestled with sleep all night. Craig didn't have to wake me up this morning because I was already on the couch, scaring myself silly. When he came out of the bedroom, bleary-eyed, at 6:30 a.m. and said, "It's time to get ready for school.", I wanted to reply, " No s***, Sherlock, I've been been up all night scared out of my mind." But that wouldn't have been nice, so I bit my tongue and wearily headed for the shower.
By the time we were ready to leave the house, I thought I was going to throw up. I was shaking and my legs felt like rubber. I was early for my 8:30 a.m. class, so I sat in Craig's office trembling, attempting to drink coffee without spilling it. I reminded myself how ridiculous it was to be so scared, but sometimes anxiety isn't a reasonable force to reckon with. Craig must have noticed the fear on my face, because he offered to walk me to class (I know, how sweet is that?). On the way over, he reassured me that I would be just fine and that he would help me in as many ways that he could. The guy has big shoulders (I have an amazing support system). Good thing he has a degree in math and is brilliant (although, him tutoring me has the potential to cause serious marriage trouble). As I write this, he's reading my math book with more enthusiasm than a raccoon raiding a cooler.
I arrived at my first class and waited in the hallway because there were already students in the classroom. A lady at the front of the room was talking to students that were seated, so I assumed that the class prior to mine wasn't finished. I soon discovered that she, too, was an O.T.A. (older than average) and just as scared as I. I think I'll make her my new best friend.
The rest of the day went fairly smoothly, despite that I had a math (sigh) quiz on the first day. It should have gone something like this:
a: Marie is not the oldest person in her math class.
b: Marie is definitely the oldest person in her other three classes.
c: Who cares?
d: Marie needs to buy stock in erasers.
d: None of the above.
e: All of the above.
Write this down - there will be a test.
P.S. Murray has been saying things like, "when I get 31, can I come to your college?" And, "Mom, I'm off to school to do my homework!" (while running around with my backpack) I hope this is an encouraging sign for the future.