“How much I missed, simply because I was afraid of missing it.”

Paulo Coelho

I have gorged myself on the delectable fantasy of an easy way out. I’ve found myself meeting any adversity, any roadblock, any inconvenience, with the smug thought that my life is going to be so different come June that none of this should even matter to me. Why concern myself with a fleeting version of who I am? That is what grad school was going to be for me. A way out.

It is so fickle to find yourself in the wrong about something you’d developed an air of confidence about. Like two sides of me are upset with each other – one in the right and cocky about it, one in the wrong and lashing out like a hurt animal. I feel stupid, and I feel righteous. Some small part of me has been holding onto the idea of me failing, and she is boasting her win.

The absence of this clear direction has left a sizeable wound in me. The vacancy of surety makes room for panic. It did not take long for her to seep in, to tuck up snugly next to my heart and make its room for beating even tighter. It is sinister, in a small way, because I know rationally there is no need to be anxious – I have many months to figure out a next move, to find a different school, to start a new job if I cannot. But she is there nonetheless, and we both feel very differently about the realization that she will only become more obtrusive with every passing day. The sky-high water wall that will crash over me, a speck in the distance that knows my fate.

I have always tied such a massive part of my self worth to my intelligence. Why, then, is there a sigh of relief in me at thought of not enduring two more years of college? I loved getting my degree in a very distant, romantic way. I don’t remember the blinding feeling of being in it with clarity – only the soft ring of light it has left behind in its path. Some part of my subconscious must be rejoicing at this redirection. It is freeing, I suppose. I can choose anything I want, be anything I want. It is difficult to see it that way when you’re in the throngs of loss. I have even surprised myself as I write it here; I did not know I was thinking it until I read what I had typed.

Can I feel everything? I think so. Maybe this will drop a new opportunity into my path, or maybe I will have to go out and explore for it. I so desperately hope I can find the will to make something grow from the roots I have ripped out.

Until next time,

G.D.