Page 58 of Motivating Mira
I broke down then. Sobbing like a child into the receiver, letting the doctor soothe me even though he probably had a million other better things to do.
“Mira, it’s okay to need help,” he said after I apologized for the tenth time.
And for the first time I believed he might be right. Standing on your own two feet, being a mature, fully functioning adult didn’t mean you had to do everything alone. Asking for help might even prove to be the most adult move I’d made in a long time.
The first thing I’d done was tell my favorite professor what was going on. She’d scolded me for not telling her sooner, comforted me as I cried and then, Professor Stahlbaum helped me workwithin the parameters of my overcrowded schedule to keep up with my goal of graduating early. And that helped make the load feel a little less overwhelming, at least until I noticed her exam was on the same day Mom was having the stent put in.
My leg bounced as I waited for the classroom to empty so I could talk to her privately. Oh, I made myself look busy, collecting my things, packing them into my bag, checking my schedule, but really, I just didn’t want anyone to know I was staying back. Not even my friends who knew what was going on in my life, which had been only Cleo until we’d ended up telling Silas after the schedule blunder.
As soon as the room was clear, I walked up to Professor Stahlbaum’s desk and fiddling with my hands, I said, “Excuse me, Professor?”
She’d looked up and smiled. “Hi, Mira, did you need something?”
I nodded shyly and asked if she still had my schedule on her tablet. She did and once she opened it, I pointed to the day of our exam.
“What’s this?” Professor Stahlbaum asked, glancing up at me.
“My mom’s having a stent procedure at the hospital,” I replied. “It falls on the day of our exam.” I gathered a breath as my professor took in my words, frowning.
“Can I do a make-up test?” I bit my lip, anxiety flooding my poor sleep-deprived brain. “I have to be there,” I said, tears starting to prickle behind my eyes. God, stress turned me into a toddler.
No one tells you how over-emotional you get when you consistently lack sleep and are put under prolonged pressure. I’d almost cried earlier in the cafeteria when Cleo pointed out that my shoelace was untied. I was carrying our food tray and wasalready crunched for time to eat because I had to finish a paper by end of day.
It seemed ridiculous now that the paper was done and I was in the calm assured presence of my professor, but at the time I’d been barely holding it together.
“Make up where?” Professor Stahlbaum asked looking way too empathetically at me. I was getting better at asking for help but sometimes it still felt like emotional charity.
“I’m free now, but we haven’t covered all the material in class yet.” I looked down, my eyes landing on my nails which at some point I’d chewed so much they’d bled.
“Okay, easy, hon. We’re going to work this out. I promise.”
I nodded and a pathetic tear dropped onto the tablet screen. “I’m so sorry this is making your life difficult.” I swiped away another tear. “You shouldn’t have to make accommodations for anyone. I’m nothing but a pain in the ass.”
“This is exactly the reason we allow accommodations in the first place, Mira. And did your mother tell you that?”
I didn’t answer because my mother had never said those words, but I’d felt them. I’d felt them every damn day knowing everything she’d sacrificed for me.
“It’s not true.” Her tone was stern. “You’ve never been a pain in the ass. You’ve never caused any trouble.” She released my arm and held up a hand to stop me before I could protest—even mentally.
“And I know you’re thinking I’m just saying that, or I just don’t know you well enough to know how much trouble you are, but trust me, it’s not true. Your mind is messing with you, because I have no reason to lie and I have no obligation to help you, but I am.” Putting her hand back on my arm, she squeezed. “Because you deserve to be helped. You’re worth my time and effort.”
I swallowed hard. How had she seen that I needed to hear that? That all the time my mother pushed, nagged and fussed had made me feel like I wasn’t worthy of her effort? That I had failed her so many times that I’d felt any help she offered was just wasted on me?
She looked at the calendar again, more determined than before. “Do you think you can concentrate during the surgery to do the exam?”
I nodded, feeling hopeful despite the tears streaming down my face. “I think so. I’ll be in the waiting room for a good portion of the day.”
“Can you video call me?”
“Yeah, I can do that. I’ll use earbuds and step outside if I need to. If I’m not too far, the nurses can grab me if they need me.”
“Okay I’ll give you a verbal exam…”
She went on to say more, but I didn’t really grasp much of it since the relief of solving the problem had me full-out bawling. I started rambling my appreciation next and somehow ended up in her arms being rocked.
“I haven’t really slept since the night you punished me. I mean, a few fitful hours here and there, but that night was the only night I’d slept a full seven hours and woke feeling light and hopeful.” There was that one other night, but that was my secret and my regret. And it would remain buried inside me forever.
“A punishment can do that,” she said, and I nodded against her shoulder.
