19th Nervous Breakdown

Oh, so THIS is what an anxiety attack feels like! I can't get my heart to stop racing and I'm a nervous wreck. I'm thinking of taking up heavy drinking for the rest of the weekend.

So tomorrow is the last day of my online class and all three of the big projects are due. TOMORROW! I've finished writing everything but I'm too freaked out to upload it all. I keep reading and rereading my work trying to find ways to improve it. Normally I wouldn't worry so much about it and would just upload it and brush my hands together and go mix a margarita to celebrate being finished, but I just can't relax. Nope, not in my vocabulary.

I am OBSESSED with my grades. Last week my instructor (whom I admire and respect and wanna be when I grow up) took 0.05 off my score (for those of you keeping score at home, that's five-hundredths of a point!) because I didn't cite a reference. Okay, I can respect that. It's a valid reason for a deduction. No big deal--at least it wouldn't be for a sane person. Then, this week, I discovered that she took off 0.1 point (one tenth of a point) without telling me why and I am completely incapable of letting it go. What the heck is wrong with me? Don't answer that. Just pass the tequila.

I've been driving myself crazy, trying desperately to think of what I could've done wrong because all of the prof's comments were positive. If you're taking something off, shouldn't there be a reason for it? I'm semi-okay with the 0.05 reduction because there was a valid reason for it. I'm sure there's a valid reason for the 0.1 reduction too, and it really shouldn't matter AT ALL because I still have an A, but I'm not going to be able to sleep until I know why. Because, yes, I'm just that crazy.

Earlier this week Dan called me over to the couch, mid-meltdown, and said with his arms wide and a smile on his face, "Come over here and let me hug you, my cute little over-achieving nerd girl."

He better be careful. I know where he sleeps. Or at least where he used to sleep. Hope the couch is comfy.

I wasn't always such a perfectionist. Okay, yes, I probably was. Just ask my college roommate. But I didn't get so freaked out about it that my stomach hurt. Or maybe I did and I just don't remember. Or maybe I'm too old to be taking these classes. I did my best work and I should just upload it and be done with it and then go celebrate with a drink, right? Right. That's just what I'll do.

Right after I proofread it one more time....