Minor Freakouts

Every now and then I begin to think that I may have beaten this thing. I look back on the last few weeks and I see success, and I think it's finally over.

In moments of clarity I know that this thought is a lie. I am lying to myself because the truth is almost too hard to face, but the truth doesn't care if you're going to acknowledge it, it will still be there and it will still be true. It is perfect in its justice because it is impartial as only an abstract concept can be.

The truth that I've been lying about is that it is never over. If I can draw strength from known that every day that I get up and live my ideals I am winning I must accept the fact that I will always be fighting.

When I begin to forget that truth is when I become weak. I have gotten through enough now that it doesn't seem like a big deal, and then I'm breaking the second rule.

Know thy Enemy

It is when I'm weak like this that I find myself being critically hit by the foe. The tower of iron will collapses upon itself, and I am reduced to the creature I once was. It passes, usually quickly, but these freak outs, as they're known, are grim reminders of the war that I must keep fighting.

Let us return now to a more practical example.

Last night/This morning was registration day. An ancient college ritual that dates back to the days I spend in the halls of Lander. It's a very simple ceremony. If you're the kind of person who can wake up early then you awaken at four a.m. I have years of experience with the alternate method which is simply to stay up until four a.m. At four a.m. I begin lining up my schedule for the next quarter, and I return at around 5:30 so that I can hit "accept schedule" and let the "Your registration period has not started yet" screen refresh itself over and over again until six when the registration actually begins.

This is also another tradition that goes along with this one. It's the tradition of being hamstrung by restrictions on classes that were not visible on the course catalog. For example, of the four classes on my list three were listed as "Psych Majors Only," and one was listed as "Freshman only during priority I registration period."

There is a scrambling, a reorganizing, but I'm the kind of person who has backup plans so I wasn't caught too off guard.

This is when my freak out began. I need to get into that major. I need to get into it. The process is reviewed with the manic energy of a caged animal, and I'm reminded of something I've known for a long time now. It's a numbers game, and my numbers aren't great. In desperation I claw at opportunity, looking for some lie to tell myself, but I know the truth and I've gotten strong enough that I won't let myself forget it. Mania collapses into catatonia, but I breathe deeply, and I think as clearly as I can.

This is bad, but this is truth. It isn't going to change. I can say all I want that I've gotten better, but the numbers hold the pure simple beauty of impartial truth. And that truth makes a simple potent demand of me. You think you've changed? Prove it.

And I got up. I packed my supplies, and I began studying. It's not enough for me to be convinced of this dawn. I have to prove it to the truth.