Week ten, they said.
That's when burnout happens, they said.
That's when I'd want to quit. When I'd cry. When I'd become emotional and insane and hard to deal with. That's when I would be so overwhelmed that I would barely be able to function, they said.
I'm in the middle of week six and I'm losing my everloving mind.
My workload is killing me. Kill. Ing. Me.
I'm studying 3-5 hours a day and I still feel like I'm merely treading water...not taking much in...other than a small country's recommended daily allowance of caffeine.
Every. Single. Day. I feel like I can't make it another day. I want to just curl up in a ball and cry my little heart out. I'm exhausted and I'm emotional and I'm stressed out and I'm exhausted.
Did I mention how tired I am?
I know my fellow classmates are feeling the same. (And if they aren't, they better do right by me and shut the hell up.) When we get together, we all have that same, glazed over look in our eyes and we can't stop the manic giggling from bubbling up. We are all trying to juggle our jobs, our kids, our lives...and navigate this insanity. I like the time I spend with them, because I feel like they "get" me.
Bless the people in my life who haven't walked away. Yet. I'm pretty sure I would have had me committed by now.
Week ten. Psh.
I'm obviously an overachiever.
I even go crazy faster than the average individual.