An email came in from my Ocean Studies professor this afternoon, alerting me to my grade on an assignment. I have not enjoyed in this class, but I'm still busting my butt to do as well as I can. The email was letting me know that I missed something major in the assignment, and as such, only get a low B. Before your eyes roll out of your head, please understand that I have been a C- student all of my life, so with the return to college, I wanted to make sure I did it to the best of my ability, rather than the least necessary to pass. I'm on my third semester and have a 4.0. Getting straight As has been a personal goal and I have succeeded this far. I fully expected to be crushed as I read the email, but was surprised to find that I really don't give a crap. I passed, and that's good enough. Did I do the best I could? No, because my best would have been not to do the assignment wrong, but I did what I felt the class was worth in the moment, and decided to spend time with my family instead.
This just brings a train into view that I've heard blowing its whistle in the distance. I'm already over school. I'm over being an overachiever, and frankly, I'm over this whole education nonsense completely. I was looking forward to this Ocean Studies class and to have it end up being so crappy just knocked a ton of wind out of my sails. Next semester is my creative writing course, and I'm still jazzed for that, but I think I've officially reached the point in my degree where I'm done enjoying the classes, and instead just enduring them. I'm willing to let go of my drive for a 4.0 if it means I'm spending more time plugged in at home. I've been down this road before, and it took me a year of college when I first graduated high school to decide I'd rather be with my family than sitting in a dumb classroom learning about shit I'll never--and I can say this with some certainty now that I've had nearly 20 years of adult life experience--use. The shine has worn off. I'll keep it up because I want that damn degree, damn it. But I think I'm done throwing myself into it to be the best.
I picked up a new memoir a few days ago, Love Warrior by Glennon Doyle Melton. It's one of those Oprah books that I usually don't give much attention to but I got a good deal on it and it's a short enough read. What I did NOT expect was to see so much of myself in this book. There's a great deal of Glennon's mentality as a wife and as a mother (and even as a woman, to be honest) that I identify with, even if my situations aren't the same as hers. There's a comfort in knowing someone else is thinking these things, because we sure as hell aren't allowed to talk about them. There's this sick gag-order on what it really feels like to be a woman, a mother, and a wife and if we dare try to talk about it, the backlash is fierce. Not only from The Patriarchy but from other women who tell us to stop being whiny. (True story.) Glennon has the ovaries to say the things we know we're not allowed to say, and I find myself greatly appreciating that she did. She gets my applause.
