Now that finals are over and summer is upon us, I can talk about this. This semester was one of the hardest semesters I have ever gone through.
First, I took 17 credit hours. 6 classes, back to back classes. My day started at 11 am and ended at 3:15.
It doesn’t sound that bad, but it’s a little bad when you have three classes a day and no breathing room. I was overwhelming myself without even knowing it. I would go to work straight after and not get home until 9 or 10 pm and start on homework. I eventually just said “Fuck the homework” and went to bed as soon as I got home.
Secondly, this semester, I decided to get my health on track. I would wake up at 6:30 in the morning and take my dog to daycare, then go to the gym at 7:30 until 10, go home and get ready for class at 11. For those of you who know me, I do not like a schedule. I love not knowing what my day is going to be like. I get stressed easy. I thought I could handle the stress, and I did for a month, but then I had my car accident.
I was on I-75 traveling to Chattanooga with my boyfriend. He was going to meet my family for the first time and we were going to see my sister’s play. A trucker swerved into the far-right hand lane I was in. I ended up slamming on my brakes, swerving into a guardrail, hitting the trucker, and totaling my car. It seems menial, but not having a car in college can be rough. I have a job and a dog. Not having a car meant that I would have to give up my dog, quit my job, and be miserable. My car insurance pretty much turned its back on me when the trucker wasn’t honest on the police report, and I got all the blame for the accident. My insurance rate skyrocketed.
I started Ubering to work which was about 200$ out of each paycheck. Living in Kennesaw is more expensive than you think. Uber drivers also aren’t very nice about bringing my dog with me to work.
About a month later, my dog got sick and then my grandmother died. It was all a little more than I can handle. Making sure I never get help and that I can do everything on my own. I broke. I had to reach out to people for rides, which I greatly appreciated, but my pride always took over me. I hate asking for help. I hate admitting that things really aren’t okay.
I won’t be doing this again. I finally know my limit. I cant tell people something positive because I still don’t have a car and my dog is still sick. I just want people to know that thinking you can overwhelm yourself isn’t okay.