This is a Really Real Mental Health Post.

“Mommy, it’s the first day of school, did you get me new clothes?”

A grown woman can wish, can’t she?

I haven’t sat in a classroom in 10 years, give or take, all of my classes since then have been online.  But this morning I set an alarm for 7 am, caught mobility to the school and sat down for English 102.

I’m 20 years older than 3/4 of the students in the class.

I’ve been ignoring the semester for as long as possible.  I waited until last week to look into my books.  Not my normal, plan as far in advance as possible and deal with all the anxiety that comes along with that.  This time I waited till the last few days.

And still, the anxiety didn’t really come.

Until last night.

It didn’t settle in my gut like it normally does.  Didn’t even rattle around my brain.

But I couldn’t sleep.

Normally I’m the first one out cold but last night I laid there and listened as Wonder Woman drifted off and made her cute sleepy noises that turned into quiet snoring.

And I laid there.

And laid there.

And contemplated getting up but I knew that when my alarm went off I’d hate myself if I didn’t at least try to sle….

And, it’s 7am.  Damn that alarm is annoying.

And still, I didn’t spend the morning too anxious as I picked out the perfect outfit.  One of my signature skirts and of course a pink shirt and my kick ass boots.  I love my style.

But will everyone else.

And do I actually care.

The thoughts go back and forth.

Sitting through class I’m lucky that I have a great professor.  It’s the first day of class and he’s already drawing us in with conversations about race and equality and privilege.  Oh yeah, I’m gonna have fun with this class.

But my brain wanders again.

My computer has a large decal “Self Saving Warrior Princess” in bright pink letters.

Oh God.

What is everyone thinking.

And do I actually care?

A battle to override one thought with the other.

Class dismissed, see you Thursday.  Hanging out in the library, waiting for my ride and I feel like every single thing I do is making so much noise.

The rustle of my bag, the jingle of my keys, the taping of my fingers across the keyboard.  A sneezing fit, not one or two but sneeze after sneeze after sneeze that won’t stop.

Is everyone staring?

And do I actually care?

Thank you, anxiety, for taking it easy on me today.  Thank you, skills, for coming to me as I need them.

As far as first days go, today was a good one.