I’m Tryin’

They had been tearing, snapping, gouging my heart. They were harsh, painful things I could never say to anyone, yet for some stupid reason, it was okay to say those things to myself. It’s just that twisted, unfair way that we treat ourselves.

 As I drove into the school’s driveway, past the “Mount Green Community College” sign, I fought to keep my vicious emotions locked up tight in my rib cage. That January morning was my first day of classes at my new school. A month earlier, I had lived in a dorm at a regionally renowned private university in New York. I had transferred for a number of reasons, but as I pulled into a parking space, I only saw fit to call myself a failure.

I dragged my shoes across the mat placed in the main hallway, hoping to rub off the majority of the sand and salt they’d collected in the parking lot. Internally, I pleaded. Please, just let me prove I can do this right. Just prove that you are not a failure. I raised my eyes to the ceiling, maybe turning my plea into a prayer. A poster in the window of an office in the floor above mine caught my attention. In it, a pretty young woman was dressed in scrubs. A stethoscope was draped around her neck. She offered the world an accomplished smile. In big, bold, white print, the poster read, “BE A NURSE.”

 I’m tryin’, I’m tryin’, came my reply.

 I was determined to get into nursing school in the fall of 2012. In order to do that, I had a boatload of pre-reqs that needed completing. The only way to do that was to take courses over spring and summer, and take the maximum amount of credits in the fall of 2011. Each morning, I passed through the school’s doors, hoped that my academic efforts would one day wipe away the emotional battering I subjected myself to, glanced up at that poster on my way to class, and silently replied, I’m tryin’, I’m tryin’. Spring gave way to summer, and I drove 40 minutes to school with the windows down, trying to soak in as much of the lovely weather as I could. Then, I kissed my summer freedom goodbye, and paid my homage to the poster on the way to my five-hour lectures. Come fall, I had a GPA I was proud of. I nodded at the poster, hoping I wouldn’t blow my chances at nursing school in this final stage. My schedule was packed with 17 credits (four of which were microbiology. If you’ve taken that class, you feel my pain), and I had no wiggle room. The pressure was on; it was time to see how badly I wanted nursing in my future.

 After having poured everything I had into those classes, I finally had a nice long break from school. With only two weeks until the application deadline, it came time to take my TEAS (Test of Essential Academic Skills. It’s comparable to the SAT’s for nursing school. Has nothing to do with knowing the difference between Earl Grey and English Breakfast.) When that critical morning came, I took the long way to the exam room, passing by the poster of the smiling nurse. I’m tryin’. I’m so close. Three hours later, test results in hand, I headed towards the parking lot. Jingling my keys, I smiled that same accomplished smile I’d seen on that cheery nurse’s face every day.

 Currently, I’m putting the finishing touches on my application. In a few days, I’ll be back in my car, cruising down to school. I’ll pull into that driveway, just like I did a year ago. The words “Community College” on the sign won’t kindle any troubled feelings. Those left with the passage of time. Head up, I’ll stroll through the front doors, and head down the hallway. My fingers will be crossed, and a nervous but relieved smile will stretch across my face as I hand in my application. And I’ll cast a glance at the poster. I’m tryin’. I’m tryin’.