115/120

115 out of 120. I should be stoked to see that.

So why does it burn me up so. fucking. much.

Backstory: all quarter this professor has made remarks disparaging me- basically for being a good student. and a woman. making jokes about giving me bad marks just to fuck with my gpa, calling me “woman” at the end of sharp sentences, etc. My first grade was an 18/20 and I went up to ask him to elaborate because I wanted to figure out his grading so I could do better next time.  But instead of simply critiquing me, he started in exasperating tones about how I’m whining about 2 points. I kept telling him I don’t care about the points, I just want to do better… but he kept harping on the points thing, and making me out to be this super anal person.

I hated his class because he made me feel like a total bitch, and I don’t feel like I deserve that. I want to yell at him that I suck at school and I’m fucking terrified of failure. I’m so scared to fail and I’m afraid of letting people down. I’m so so so much better at managing my fear these days, which is why I’m actually finishing my degree, but when I’m called out and made out to be an awful person I feel like I’m going to crack.

Then I get my grade- 115/120. No specific comments except: “I understand the individual parts, but I have trouble fitting them together.”  I made sure that every freaking point rounded back to my original ideas. This critique as it stands is vague and meaningless to me without specific examples. And so I am wigging out because it just feels- mean. Like he simply wanted to dock points. Just to do it.

But here is why I am writing this post. I can vent on my own. I can get heated and talk my boyfriends ear off about how unfair it all is. I can write a spiteful passive aggressive email, just so he knows I’m pissed. But the bigger thing I’m grappling with here is how I need to just woman up, be political, and just shrug this shit off. When I am confronted with situations like this where I feel things just. aren’t. fair… I totally shut down, shoot myself in the face, and burn bridges. I burn myself.  I turn into this self-loathing out of control anti-hero who can’t control her own powers… everything I touch burns burns burns and the more I try to suppress it, the hotter I get.

Months, years after a burning I can still feel the smoldering coals… I lose so much control that instead of truly healing, I scar. And whenever I touch the scars… the memory floods back and I feel so much sadness at the bottom of my stomach and I feel so much regret at the damage I did.  But I can’t turn back time.

I am determined to be a better person so I can have fewer regrets. I really hated this guy’s class. I do not agree with how he teaches. But I will not fight it, because it is NOT worth it. If I am going to be successful in work, in love, and in friendship, then I have to stop getting out of control at the slightest injustice. AND I need to forgive myself for feeling upset.

Letter to me from my spirit animal, Taylor Swift:

Dear Liv,

Its ok. Your feelings are valid. And you’re being strong and wise by not fighting back and blowing this up. You’re growing into a respectable woman. You will not agree with everyone and you will not get along with everyone.  Some people are not going to get along with you, either. Haters gonna hate. And that is how life works. You know what I admire most in a person? A person’s ability to take criticism and shake off the haters.

SHAKE THEM HATERS OFF AND MOVE ON! You got this. Next chapter.

Love, dignity, respect,

T-Swizzle.

Thanks, homegirl. I needed that. Also, Ryan Gossling’s smoldering eyes.

DAMNIT RYAN YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL AND SO REASSURING.

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