Depressing Day on Campus

Today was one of those days, I wish I could revise! I had a major project due for the play writing class that I am taking, we had to turn in a draft of a ten minute play. This weekend I had huge plans to get "caught up," whatever that means, and as usual I was out of commission most of the weekend. I don't even drink, so if that is where your mind is going turn that car back around. I push myself so hard all week long and then when we get to the weekend, I am completely useless. All I can do is lay on the bed or couch and take basic care of my children. In other words they have everything they want and need, but there is no housework and the apartment now looks as if it had been raided. To be specific there are toys everywhere, groceries nowhere and dirty diapers anywhere that I can't smell them.
This weekend in fact, I was so wiped out that I let my 13 month old daughter eat cookies on my bed. Damage control: I took everything off the bed except the white sheets, that I can bleach anything out of and let her make a serious mess. During which I was able to sleep for an extra thirty-five whole minutes.

Anyway, I had some kind of mini-breakdown/anxiety attack while I was writing my play. The same thing happened two weeks ago when I wrote my first Literature paper on Chaucer. I began to scrutinize every word so closely that I can't put the whole thing together the way that I need to. The result is a literary nightmare.
Tomorrow, when I see my therapist I plan to bring this up. It all stems from the reason I originally left school when I was 19. There was a literary professor at BC who pretty much told me I was not a very good paper writer. I basically heard in my twisted translations of criticism That I was not a very good writer. He may have even said that. Whether he had the right to say anything like that to student is another topic entirely. Shortly after that I left school and have never felt confidence in my writing since.
Today, I felt like I was back in that same professor's class room not measuring up, only this time with two children depending on me to make us a better life. I want that better life! I am thirty years old and am out of fresh starts. This is it for me. I need to go to school every semester until I drag my two children on to the lawn at UMass and collect that coveted diploma I should have received in 2000.
But back to today, I get to class with a 12 page play, not edited as well as it could have been, and because of a daycare situation, I ended up being ten minutes late. That was the first thing that went wrong. Then I compared notes with the guy next to me and learned that his play is only five pages, and the guy to his left is 3 pages. In other words, my play is way too long and it is now way too late to do anything about it. For a good couple of minutes I considered fleeing the UMass Boston like it was Auschwitz, never to return again. But oh wait, I have done that before actually, and more than once.
My stomach felt like I had just been thrown down a six story roller coaster ride. Finally, the other students finished their plays and it was my turn. I told the professor my play was too long but she told me to go anyway. In other words I better read it now or get an even worse grade, than the grade I am going to get for exceeding the time limit. So I read it and the longest piece of fiction that I ever created sounded so horrible to me. Then they critiqued it and I wanted to again grab my scripts and run far, far away.
She told me that it was 15 minutes long, it was very redundant at times, and it seemed like the parts she liked were the ones I had not written. And then the worst part of it all. I got called after class by the professor who told me that I basically could not have done anything worse than come in ten minutes late on the day of my own presentation. It would have felt better if she just belted me across the face. I am so sick and tired of explaining myself. I was not late because I slept in or because I chose to grab a latte on the way to school. I work my ass off and my being ten minutes late because of a childcare conflict was unavoidable today. I almost missed the entire class.
I really feel like a piece of trash right now. I have been writing some miserable poetry that I might use for creative writing.
After the play writing disaster I went upstairs and got my Chaucer disaster back, C+ was the verdict. I told this professor my literary life story so I honestly feel that the C+ was a complete pity grade. The paper more than sucked. I love writing, but am starting to wonder if writing loves me. I have no idea what else I would want to do with my life. This has always been what I wanted to do. I love writing!
Right now I am mood swinging from devastated and crying to angry crying. No one is going to tell me that I can't write! Even if I suck I still will. I deserve to write just as much as anyone else does. But I need to get better at writing papers and projects for course grades. I think I might just sign up for some extra help tomorrow at the student support center. They might not cater to mothers down there, but I am in need of some other kinds of help that I never needed before.
Am I the only one who has days like this? Is this normal? How do you all deal with these kind of days? How do you deal with daycare conflicts or any other single parent crisis?
This is my first official post, but I plan to have some neat content up soon. I have a couple of interesting interviews with other Single Moms in school arranged and a bunch of ideas, but am always open to suggestions as well. If you have anything to contribute such as words of advice, poems, letters, essays, or any other type of information that might enlighten another single mom in school please share it!
As for me, I am going to bed earlier tonight than last night and will do my best to keep my head above water. Until next time, mamas.