Statistics Burnout: My Dramatic Death by Stats (Part 1)

Statistics is killing me. Not softly. Not gently. Not romantically. No — this is a full blown homicide, and the weapon is a TI-84.

I signed up for this class thinking, “I’m a grown woman, a psych major, a mother, a wife, a functioning adult. I can handle a few numbers.” HAHAHAHAHAHA. No, I cannot. I cannot handle anything. I am being handled.

Somewhere between standard deviation and why the hell is there a Greek alphabet in my homework, I realized I wasn’t learning statistics — I was being spiritually mugged by it.

The Moment I Realized I Was in Danger

It happened during Week 2. The professor said, “This formula is simple,” and my soul left my body like it was clocking out early.

Um, excuse me, good sir. Simple for WHO. NASA? Einstein? That one kid in class who breathes in z-scores?

Oh, don’t mind me,  I’m just over here trying to remember PEMDAS like it’s a childhood friend I lost touch with.

My ADHD vs. Statistics: A Cage Match

ADHD brain: “We should start this assignment early.”

Also, ADHD brain: “But what if we reorganize the pantry instead?”

Statistics: “Here is a 47-step problem.”

Me: “I’m going to take a nap.”

Every time I open the textbook, my executive function files a complaint with HR.

The Greek Letters Are Personal Attacks

Why is sigma here? Why is mu here? Why is rho here? Why is ANYONE here?  I did not consent to a fraternity’s involvement in my coursework.

The Only Thing Keeping Me Alive

Beach therapy. Tattoo fantasies. The promise of a future where I never again have to calculate a confidence interval.  I keep telling myself: “You’re a 40-something psych major with ADHD. You’ve survived worse. You survived Disney crowds in July.”

Surely I can survive one more chapter on probability.… Right?

The Plot Twist

Every once in a while, something actually makes sense. Like a tiny glimmer of hope. A single neuron firing.  I’ll get one question right, and suddenly I’m like: “Maybe I am a scholar. Maybe I am a quantitative queen. Maybe I should apply to grad school.”

Then the next question appears, and I immediately retract all statements.

Final Thoughts Before My Untimely Demise

If I pass this class, it will not be because I understood statistics. It will be because statistics got tired of fighting me.

And honestly, at this point…That feels like a win.