unetherized

i don’t like it.

but maybe it will be better for me in the end.

i will never be able to add fucking numbers. stay positive all you fucking want, sometimes people are just not. capable. of. things. i will never be able to sing opera, or play basketball. i don’t have vocal cords that are a gift from god and i practically don’t have legs. this is fact. this is not something that will change. if i was obsessed with opera or basketball, maybe i could train obsessively day in and day out. maybe i could become mediocre or even almost decent/impressiveish? with that level of passion and dedication.

but not happening. because i don’t really want to be involved in opera. or basketball.

math is okay. i’m not in love with it. i don’t dream about it. i don’t think about it when i brush my teeth. i don’t doodle about it in the margins of my notebook. i don’t do it in my head for funsies when waiting on line at the grocery store. at most, i might do all my homework. 

i have a big fucking giant problem. i can’t. do. numbers. i can’t do things with numbers. i can’t see numbers i can’t imagine numbers i can’t manipulate numbers i can’t understand numbers IT’S LIKE READING FUCKING ARABIC. 

if numbers are ligands i have no number receptors. you can inundate me with all the number substrate in the wooooorld but honey there are NO. TRANSCRIPTION. FACTORS. or they’re just like, broken. there’s a competitive agonist. that’s just chilling there. where the number is supposed to go. if numbers are watersoluble then that G protein subunit? yeah, not going anywhere. adenylate cyclase, cAMP, cre, the whole damn lot of you - no, no, and no. no fun for you today. you’re not doing anything. 

numbers just be floating around there in the interstitial fluid doing jack fucking shit because my brain. does not. process. them.

i’m going to cry this out the way i cried when stupid boy who i threw my heart at decided nah brah i changed my mind, dropping you off the face of the earth and erasing from existence. numbers. i thought. we could make it work. i wanted to. i was willing to try so hard.

i was willing to go so far.

i was willing to work for it, anything really, as much as i could bring myself to do. and every time i take a test. i hope beyond ridiculous fucking hope even though there’s nothing to suggest this time will be any different. i hope that maybe my mind won’t do this ridiculous crap and turn numbers inside out AND MAYBE I WILL BE ABLE TO DO SOMETHING RIGHT THIS TIME.

and you know what happens, numbers? you break my heart. every. single. time. i’d text keith and he wouldn’t text back and i’d think aw maybe he’s busy maybe he’s sleeping but no, he’s just not that into you.  i’d think maybe i need to be calmer maybe i need to study harder maybe i need to be less stressed maybe i need to meditate maybe i need to practice maybe i need to say abracadabra maybe THERE IS SOMETHING I AM DOING WRONG THAT I CAN CHANGE, and then i will be able to do numbers.

no. i’m not going to beat myself up anymore. i’m not going to grill myself wondering what i did wrong that i can do better next time. i’m not going to work so damn motherfucking hard and be convinced this time i FINALLY HAVE IT, and go in with my heart out on my sleeve and my hopes up in the sky and believe that this time it will pay off.

it’s not fair to me.

because face it. no matter what i do. no matter how hard i try. no matter. what.

i will always lose at least 20% of my grade. conservative estimate. this test i lost almost 50%.

because i added 1.5 and .6 and got 1.1.

8 points, that i really needed, goodbye.

etc etc etc etc.

i multiplied what was supposed to be a 5, except that i used a 7. 5 times 2. is not 14.

SINCE FUCKING EVER. SINCE JUNIOR HIGH. MY ENTIRE LIFE. ALWAYS. NO MATTER WHAT. ALL SUMMER LONG. ALL LAST SEMESTER. ALL MY FUCKING CRIES. ALL MY EXHAUSTION. ALL MY STRESS.

that’s it. that’s fucking it. 

numbers, i am done. i am done trying to make it work. i know now that we are just not meant to be. i had hoped maybe we could get through this and calc 1 together, that since we’re forced to cross paths for one more semester we could make the best of it. that we could swing this somehow, if we met halfway, if i went 60 and you went 40, if i went fucking 99 and you went 1.

i am going to sit tonight and i am going to face the fact that despite everything, despite all my efforts, adding numbers and stuff is not something i can do. it’s a handicap or something. i guess. and i’m going to quit whining about how all my friends can fucking add and multiply and i can’t. i’;m going to quit complaining that it’s not fair, that if i could only handle numbers at a basic level, i would be getting A’s in math. that i do all my work and i learn the fucking material and i should get credit for knowing the material, that i follow the right steps and processes, that i DO WHAT I’M SUPPOSED TO DO! just with the wrong numbers!

why can’t we do math in colors! why can’t we do math in tangerines and pineapples! why can’t we do math with pretty words instead??? seafoam green multiplied by seventeen crayons divided by a sunset, equals a lava lamp.

THAT I COULD FUCKING DO! THAT I COULD LEARN!

that would make sense to me.

i have brain problems.

anyway.

everyone has different problems. some people struggle with math because of the ideas. the ideas come very, very easily to me. it’s like abc’s. i’m fucking brilliant with ideas. 

and that’s what makes me me. and you know what? i love myself. there’s nothing wrong with me, in my eyes. if i show up on paper as having the mathematical IQ of an octopus, you know what, that DOES NOT MAKE ME A LESSER FUCKING HUMAN BEING. THAT DOES NOT MAKE ME LAZY. THAT DOES NOT MAKE ME USELESS.

just because the world is going to look at my math grades and be like pffft, shoulda spent less time partying and done some homework, stupid, you are never getting into vet school with that work ethic, does not mean they are right.

actually.

maybe i am part of my problem. i think math should be hard because of what we’re learning. i think if i understand what the teacher is teaching, i should get credit for the class.

maybe that’s not the way it works in the real world.

maybe i am naive.

maybe for most people the problem is the actual learning part. but you know what? they don’t grade you on what you learn. they grade you on what answers you come up with. there’s a lot more to it than just knowing the material and how to use it. there’s the grunt work part. where you actually… ew… touch the numbers.

so most people only have to worry about the learning. they can throw numbers around like whatever. so you grow up learning that it’s most important to make sure you learn, and then just throw the numbers around when you need to.

well you know what? why am i comparing myself to other people? why am i deciding that what they have trouble with has to be what i must also have trouble with? is their concern mine? are they me? no!

we’re both going for the same end result. to be able to get the right answer. maybe one thing is easier for them than for me, maybe one thing is harder. just because what i have problems with, most people don’t, doesn’t mean that i shouldn’t have problems with it. just because most people can add doesn’t mean that i inherently should just be able to.

there we go. i said it.

it’s like, just because most people are tall, doesn’t mean i’m entitled to be tall too. some people are really really short. like me. it’s not a disability. well if i was any shorter it would be. but i can get around just fine, even if i need lots of things to stand on and lots of tall friends. so you know what? not being able to add basic numbers and stuff, that’s not a disability either. it’s a difference.

i have to stop pretending that i will stumble upon the right magical incantation to say that will make my brain capable of number operations. not gonna happen. just not part of my reality.

so i need to stop acting like it.

i need to pick myself up and say you know what, i’m done asking for help. i’m done begging for someone to figure out why i can’t do anything with numbers and help me fix it. ans make my brain normal.

my brain is not normal. it never will be.

i am okay with that. i will work with it. i will compensate in other ways. i think my meds help slightly. very slightly. but the truth is, if i want to actually become competent and functional and survive my math class, i am going to have to stop living like i will just develop the ability to work with numbers and then everything i studied and know, i will get full credit for.

i should have gotten an 80, if not higher. i got a 57. all stupid number fuckups.

but if i’d been starting with a hundred, i could have been near the 80s. 

and that is the difference. i have to stop acting like i can rely on some intrinsic ability to compute numbers. i have to be realistic. i have to face it. i have no margin for error. my brain uses up way more than its fair share of all the wiggle room i ever earn myself. i have none.

FACT. OF. LIFE.

DEAL. WITH. IT.

numbers, i am so over you. i’m moving on. you’re dead to me. i give up on you. i abandon hope of you entirely. i’m not going to be chasing you around any more, hoping maybe we’ll work, i’m not going to give you a single fucking ounce of my emotions. i will never get my hopes up or my heart out over you, ever again.

from now on, i know how it is. i’m going to have to do this from where i really stand. i have to know what i’m really bringing to the table. where i’m really coming from. i’m okay now.

i’m not going to cry over points being ripped away from my grade because my brain just doesn’t fucking do fucking goddamn numbers.

i’m awesome. i’m good at tons of stuff. i accept my complete mathematical failure.

just because i understand all of the material does not mean i should let myself feel as though i’m entitled to a grade reflecting that awesome understanding. because you do not get the grade for understanding. you get the grade for doing.

and if you can’t do, you can’t do. it doesn’t matter which part fucks you up - the understanding, or the plugging numbers. all that matters is that you didn’t do. you don’t get the grade.

i am starting to accept that this really is life. it’s not fair. it’s life though.

i am going to just have to do. i am going to accept that i cannot do numbers, and just make sure i understand everything, impeccably. it will average out to something bearable and i will do so well in all my other classes that i will be able to accept this.

i do not want regret in my life. i do not want bitterness. i want to do the best i can and move on and be happy and keep doing my best.

and sometimes, you are measured in all the wrong ways. and you know what? nobody in the world is ever only tested on things they’re good at. it averages out. in lots of different things, lots of different people have to work harder than others for lots of different reasons.

and everything turns out okay.

i cannot add numbers. i can barely multiply. or subtract. or divide. or anything involving numbers. at all. okay.

that’s. oh. kay.

i am not a failure as a human.

i am not being robbed, either, though. i’m not being robbed of my grade in math. i truthfully failed to deliver the right answer, for my own quirky reasons, but failed nonetheless. 

i will improve what i can, and except the things i will never be able to change.

my mysterious x factor. my achilles’ heel. my kryptonite. it’s just life. you strengthen your strengths and sometimes, you have to give up on improving your weaknesses, and just carry them with you, and compensate and make the best.

i’m going to be at peace with myself, number fucking dyslexia and all. i’m not going to be sour or upset or resentful or bitter. i have lots of strengths that are unique to me too, as well as ridiculous inabilites.

i am going to be okay.

i am going to find ways to make the rest of my life even better. i am crossing numbers off my list. i put in so much effort. nothing. no returns. ever. at all. this is the point where you say fuck it. moving on. doing this without you.

maybe i’ve been so stuck on trying to overcome my number problems because it didn’t matter whether i put in all the effort in the world, or none, so i could just put none in when i was lazy, and see the same results.

no. now i’;m going to focus my efforts on things that show results. things that are worth it. things that are worth me. numbers are not worth me.

i am going to restructure my life. i am going to figure out what’s not worth my time, what’s a dead end. i am going to figure out where i can become better. and you know what? i’m going to become better in those things. and i will accept all my limitations, ift hat’s what they really are, because everyone has their own. everyone’s are different. and what defines you is NOT what, as it just so happens, you are completely incapable of doing. but how well you choose to do what you can do.

and i am going to figure out what i can do.

and i am going to do it. damn. motherfucking. well.

i am going to take the fact that i can literally not add 1.1 and .6, or multiply 5 by 2, and i am going to turn it into the best thing that has ever happened to me. i am going to take a life lesson away from this. 

i am going to accept myself right now for all my flaws. and stop trying to move mountains that you can kill yourself trying to.

and stop banging my head into walls that will always be there.

i was raised on that “you can always overcome anything in the world if you really try” philosophy, and maybe, maybe, if i devoted myself to numbers like a monk to a monastery, i almost could. but at what price? it’s not worth it. there are a thousand other things i could be excelling at, and being happy doing. some battles you lose.

i am taking this hit.

i fail at numbers.

i can’t add.

that’s okay.

because pretending i can is just cruel. it helps no one. positive thinking is not making a dent on this one. it’s like telling myself i can reach the top shelf of the cabinet, if i really try, if i stretch, if i practice hard enough. no, bitch. i need to accept the fact that i’m not even five feet tall AND GET A MOTHERFUCKING STOOL OR CHAIR TO STAND ON. 

pretending you’re going to overcome something that is just part of you who you are only delays you from finding ways to manage with it, and being more effective in your life.

i’m just going to learn to manage.

it’s whatever.

sometimes i wish i just had word dyslexia instead. then i could spellcheck my papers. math tests are like writing beautiful essays that reflect your comprehension of the reading, and synthesis of new ideas from that content, all tied perfectly together - but having random words scrambled or spelled inside out or a few completely irrelevant words thrown in altogether. “the thesis of my essay pineapple is, that the author blue green yellow, afnasklgalk was saying argbeao africa”

kind of like that.

but people can proofread it.

and you can be okay.

nobody proofreads your fucking math.

whatever.

accepted. acknowledged. at peace.

i am going to adapt.

this has been cathartic. i’m going to stop emotionally torturing myself. i’m going to come out stronger.