I did not think I'd worry about my GPA as much as I do. Every test and quiz I took, every class assignment and every absence I had made me constantly stressed because I wanted a good GPA. I didn't want the high GPA for awards or to impress anyone, but it felt like a personal goal for me; one that eventually began to slowly run me into the ground.
This past spring semester, I lived in the library most days. From noon until right before the library would close, you could find me at a table or desk with my laptop up and papers scattered everywhere. I would pack my backpack up with everything I'd think I need before classes and head straight to studying as soon as I was done with class. I even missed a few classes to stay in the library. A bit of a contradiction, but hopefully it paid off.
Other people would stay in the library as long as I would, and they were usually always the same people. I eventually began to wonder if they were just really productive or were constantly worried about failing like I was. Were they freaking out on the inside too? I could never tell, and I was not about to start that conversation.
The week before finals week was undoubtedly the most stressful week of the semester. While getting caught up with trying to take care of all my papers and meeting deadlines, I forgot to take care of myself. I slept four or five hours per night if at all, I ate maybe once a day, I isolated myself, I was always irritable and felt so much guilt. These may sound similar to the symptoms of anxiety and depression. And to be honest, that's exactly what they were. These habits started off small during the semester but eventually led to the way I would be living my life the last few weeks of college.
When I felt that getting out of bed was the most difficult task of my day, I also felt like emailing your professor from bed with the excuse of a mental illness was invalid. Some days I would force myself to get up, walk to class with a head full of racing thoughts and the heavy feeling of dread that seemed to grow heavier with each step. Other days I would stay in bed, sleep until noon and wake up not wanting to move at all. Even though this was not completely obvious to my friends or family, I was still able to seem completely normal in social situations long enough not to raise any questions. I felt like everything I did wasn't good enough. Everything I wrote wasn't suitable, every speech I prepared wouldn't meet the standards and every project I did could have been so much better. Although right before I was getting ready to take my finals, I realized I was extremely proud of myself and my work.
Every time I actually got up, went to class and participated as much as I could, I was getting a better grade. Whenever I went to the library to do homework and study, even though it was the last thing I wanted to, I was improving my GPA while I was barely getting through the day. I'm not saying that I can push away or overcome the anxiety and depression because they're most likely here to stay for awhile, but that's OK. I motivated myself just enough to do what I had to do to pass and that is a feat I am extremely proud of. I learned to be proud of my GPA because it shows that I worked as hard as I could.
Even when you feel as if your professors think you don't care, or your friends think you're a different person, just remember you always come first. Your mental health comes before the professor's snide comments, and your academic future comes before trying to make your friends happy. And when it feels like nothing else matters and you just want to quit, just put off quitting for another day.
