The time when I least like myself

The 24 hours that immediately precede an exam are the time when my self-esteem is lowest. I begin to doubt that I've studied enough. I doubt my ability to understand the questions. I imagine all the things I don't know, and think that maybe those are the things the professors will test us on and I will be the only one who isn't ready.

The thing about med school is that you can never know everything. It's designed to prevent that. You can only hope you know enough of the right things and have the balls to go in and take the test anyway.

Having the balls is my real problem. Exams intimidate me. Before college, they never did. I was always confident, always tested well, always got the As. College was harder, but I learned to do well even there. Medical school has been a whole new kind of challenge.

I'm sure it didn't help that, when I entered, I had a bipolar spouse who wasn't stable. There were more days than I can count when I was just too tired to learn anything, tired from having to soak the emotional fallout of a mood disorder, tired from having no money, tired from broken promises and stale anger.

The way the Ex left shook me again. I had figured things out a bit better last year, by the end of it. I knew how to study just enough to get through, and surviving was plenty of success for me. I didn't need bells, whistles, awards, recognition. The As were long gone, and I was okay with that.

But when the Ex vanished, one of the constants in my life was suddenly variable again. The person I'd been with for seven years was gone. For better or worse, in hypomania and depression, through times with debt and times without, the Ex was at least THERE. When I first came home to my semi-empty apartment, the not-thereness was overwhelming.

Classes immediately after that time did not go well. I survived that particular struggle again. I got through it. Ah ha! I said to myself. I can pick myself up and move on after all! I can do this!

Only now there is an exam tomorrow. My least favorite 24 hours are currently ticking by, and my self-esteem is once again at rock-bottom. I doubt myself. I doubt the things that are constant. I doubt that I can do this.

And it becomes, as it always does, a question of having the balls to show up. The balls to say that I've studied for hours upon hours over days and weeks, and whether or not that's enough, I'm going to try to do well. Despite not having things that are constant, despite the train wreck that has run through my life over the past few months, despite my sense of self being in flux.

I will show up, and I will try. Self-esteem? Never heard of it, never wanted to. These 24 hours, these horrid seconds that seem to simultaneously drag and fly by, these minutes will just be another test of endurance.

For this test, for these hours, I will have the balls.