Hoo Nelly.

So, for reasons I’ll go into later, I have been trying to learn some stuff

A few weeks ago, I took a deep dive into relearning some rules about sentence structure and punctuation. It was challenging. It took loads of repetition and practice to lock in some of the grammar rules that I have been missing since my school days. Still, I was rewarded with some new (old) insights and a burgeoning confidence around my writing. It felt hard but rewarding.  

This week, I attempted to do a refresher of some basic math skills.  

Fuck me, man. 

All the work and review I have done has felt wildly ineffective and frustrating in ways that make me want to scream and jump off a bridge. Grappling with elementary-level math problems has made me weep. Piteously. Several times. And while I stumbled around the edges of my dyslexia when I was learning about sentence structure, I am *drowning* in my dyscalculia. I can feel my brain struggling in ways I have worked assiduously to avoid for most of my adult life. There is an engine seizing abruptness to when I hit a learning disability wall, and when I do, there is little room for course correction. It’s difficult to articulate, but there is this sort of silent white noise that takes over my mental processes, grinds my processing speed to a halt, gums up my working memory, and leaves me straight-up reeling. And friends, the emotional stories tied to those sensations are brutal. I have, historically, seen them as proof of my profound ineptitude and confirmation of my well-earned shame. 

This week has been a lot. 

So, I am still slogging away at math that my 11-year-old can do with ease. It’s not making me feel very good about myself, but I’ll keep trying. And if I can take any pride or satisfaction from this godforsaken process, it’s in that I have just not given up yet. Send me fortitude, friends.