I spent my whole ride home from class tonite in tears. If you know me in real life, you know that this has been a pretty normal state for me for the past year and a half.
Living on string cheese (definitely still had one of those tonite) and 4 hours of sleep (I shoot for 5 or 6 now), this journey started with a lot of tears.
Tears of frustration. Frustration at not being able to understand how to get the numbers to plug into the financial ratios that were being asked of me. Frustration at not understanding what the financial ratios even meant.
Tears of anger as I fought my way into this program.
Tears of hatred- because I knew that behind what seemed an incompetent exterior was hiding a brilliant person, who could see things from many angles and would be so good at this if she could just get past these damn fractions.
I simultaneously hated myself for not being “good enough” for this world I had studied so hard for, and hated myself for caring so much about three letters after my name. If I was really good enough it wouldn’t matter… would it?
Then there were the tears of uncertainty. Would this all pan out? Would that brilliant person who could captivate an audience during a presentation and could crank out a 10 page paper in just a few hours with the right amount of coffee ever get to show her face? Would she get the chance?
Tonite I cried. But tonite’s tears, were the most restorative, healing and gentle tears I have ever cried. I sat in class tonite, after a long day of plugging numbers into ratios and analyzing what that could possibly mean. As the professor ran through the rationale for the numbers, and where to find them on the financial statements, I noticed something.
My numbers… came from the right place, added up correctly and were right.
I frantically checked back and forth and talked to my friends. But I had to continuously scoop my jaw up off the ground because aside from one minor LIFO hiccup (who does that anyways? FIFO for life baby!), every single number was correct!
Tonite there were tears of joy. I had done what was going to be THE hardest part of death class. Sure group projects are hard and there will be many more long hours but these ratios were the stuff of nightmares.
Tonite, there were tears of triumph. I had finally done it! I had slain the demigorgen and climbed up out of the upside down into the marvelous light of getting past the accounting.
Tonite there were tears of acceptance. Not only can I do death class, I will look death class in the eye and laugh. I accept the challenge that will be the next six months.
Tonite, there were tears of love. That funny, competent and intelligent girl made her come back. And I have never loved myself more than in that 30 minute drive home. I took the hardest thing I had ever worked on, the thing that used to make me hate myself, and turned it in to something I can now do. It has all finally clicked.
I am good enough.