My Canterbury Tale

I had a melt down today. Not a little “I have PMS” melt down. An epic melt down.

I have been running on barely any sleep du to a terrible head cold that has now taken over every inch of my being. I laid in bed most of the night last night staring at a snoring peaceful Zac and I couldn’t help but feel annoyingly jealous. I laid in bed and stared at the clock ...I saw 2am…3:30am…4:30am… Time seemed to move in slow motion and I begged God that morning would just come already. At one point I was sure that I would pull an all nighter.

I got in the car and realized I had only put mascara on one eye and hadn’t brushed my hair. I had an early morning meeting at work, serious in nature, and mustering strength just to stay vertical was work in and of itself.

Finished up the meeting and headed to school and into my infamous Chaucer class with like the WORST professor ever. I don’t really mean that but really...who gives TESTS in a literature class! I was anxious for this class. We were getting back our midterms. I knew that I had rocked the essay and that the other portions of the test were difficult but I would “do fine.”

I found my seat and realized how closterphobic the classroom was with every single person showing up to class to receive their midterm back. I started shaking realizing a cup of coffee is not a sufficient form of breakfast. He lectured to all of us about The Pardoner’s Tale and the class stared anxiously. No one took notes. We just wanted our freaking tests.

He reached in a manila folder and pulled out a thick pile of tests. He then continued to lecture about how 12 people got A’s, 7 got B’s, 18 got C’s, 7 got D’s and 1 person got an F. I began to tense a bit realizing that the A and B range was small and I knew that a lot of people in my class were brilliant.

Great.

He handed on the tests one by one moving around the class in a dance like motion. Some students smiled as they stared at each page, others took one look and put it down never to be looked at again and then there was me.

“Mackenzie?”

I grabbed my test from his hand and looked on the cover. In big, fat, red Sharpie there was a D with a huge circle around it. Laughing at me.

I frantically flipped through the pages which revealed red ink after red ink. I am pretty sure my paper died a bloody and horrific death.

This being a third of my grade I began to panic. My headache moved from the back of my head into my ears, throat, nose and eyes. I was welling up and I needed to get out. As students began to leave we were required to turn our tests back in.

I literally threw mine into the pile as I stared my professor in the eye. He looked at me like he wanted to be sympathetic.

I stepped out of the classroom and began to sob. Not a little tear but an army of tears. The kind of uncontrollable sobs that you have when you can’t even articulate words.

I wasn’t just feeling upset... my entire body was violently tense as I tried to muster back sobs.

I had failed. Literally.

I sat outside on a cold green bench not able to attend my next class. I felt humiliated and mad that I couldn't get it together!!

I couldn’t believe that I had studied and failed.

My emotions hit me like a massive tidal wave that moved out of my soul and into harsh tears that were streaming down my face. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what I should have done. Studied more. Slept less. Done...something!'

The wind blew against my cold tear stained face and the more I sat still the more I realized my actions.

At this point I am feeling ridiculous. I realize that this is just a grade but at the same time I have never received this bad of a grade. It stung and seeped into every inch of me.

I just didn’t measure up.

I have a hero complex. Not only do I take on WAY more than I should but I expect myself to be amazing at everything I do. I have this visual of me taking every test with ease, writing papers effortlessly and standing up on the stage at graduation with twelve ropes around my neck to show the world that not only did I accomplish going to school but I did it working 35 hours a week and being a wife and mother.

HA! In your face! I accomplished something when the odds were against me!! That is the feeling I want to have when I graduate! But does accomplishment have to "look" a certain way?

To me, I didn’t just get a D on that test. I felt that that D represented every part of my life. That my school work, my job, my mothering, my ability to be a wife wasn’t the way it “should be” or “could be” so therefore I once again had not measured up to my own (super unrealistic) expectations.

I drove home crying and carrying on like the inner victim in all of us enjoys to do. I talked to my mom for a good half hour on the phone and as I am talking (half sobbing) I realize even more how ridiculous I sound. A D is unfortunate. But it isn’t the end of the world.

I have traded in precious moments with my family that I never get back. THIS is what a working mom thinks about all the time.

I will give my child a better life but how can I measure the cost?

I have such a wonderful mom. She just listened and reminded me that the Lord sees and knows my heart.

Oh Lord, I struggle with my own identity. I am all “these” things and at times I just want to be the me I have let go into hibernation for awhile. My loves and passions are set on the back burner and today was a day that my inner selfishness wanted to come out for awhile. Got to keep those mental horses on reigns or they can run wild and skew one’s perspective.

When I hung up the phone with my mom, I walked into my house and took a forty five minute nap. I fell into a deep sleep and allowed my whole body to conform to every contour of my mattress.

An exhausted mind and body needs rest…and often. And I need to give myself a break and remember that.