17 February, 2006

17 February, 2006

I feel guilty. I'm neglecting my child and my husband. My teachers think I am just careless. But I'm doing everything I can. I never get a break. I work on school every waking hour. But it's never enough. I'm not caught up in a single class. I'm failing two classes (French and math). A third I haven't turned in the one thing that has been due two weeks after it was due (composition). And at this rate, there are not enough physical hours to get this manuscript done by Friday.
It makes me so angry that people like my mom can graduate in two-and-a-half years with such ease. That for my parents, college is something they revert to every ten years or so when they become bored. And they will never understand. They think I just don't try.
My mom doesn't even think the things I study matter--she thinks this is all a game. She thought my psych testing was a game. She said well won't that be fun to hear about. She thinks everything I care about--sociology, psychology, literature, philosophy--are 'bunk'. She thinks my going to school, reading, writing, studying, is just a hobby. It is hard work! It's fulfilling because i feel it is important.
She was probably right--I can't handle more than one class. But I can't just f* take one class at a time for twenty-five years! I guess I just want to feel like there is something I can do. It just proves that, no matter what, I can't survive. I can survive: someone will always take care of me. But I can't thrive.
And I feel so guilty. Like I let everyone down: my parents, my grandparents, my husband, my child, my teachers. I feel like it's my fault--like there was something I could have done about it. I wish no one had ever helped me, or had faith in me, as all I have done is dissappoint them.
Life isn't livable as it is. It never has been. I only kept going because I thought, hoped it would be someday. I kept going for years and years and years, no matter how bad it got, because I couldn't believe this was all there was.
I was in the lab typing today for three-and-a-half hours. Not creating; just typing what was already written. In three-and-a-half hours i got eleven typed double space pages. There was a woman there getting assistance with her paper for a remedial English course. She had finished the draft in time to have more than one revision session with the assistants in the writing lab. She was a middle-aged woman who works forty hours a week and has children.
I can't even get a grant for school if I don't pass all of these classes with a 'C'. I have to go full-time if I want a grant. My grandparents won't pay for anymore of my school. I'm skipping classes to work on papers for school.