Lately I’ve been feeling mired. My life is great, but the intense attention to college homework and writing has me gasping for air. In fact, I feel I’m so buried in deadlines that there are imaginary rope burns on my wrists, ankles, and brain if such a thing is possible. What the heck, it’s my fantasy so it is possible.
My dear friend Claudia tells me I’m where I’m supposed to be at this phase of my education, and PROMISES it will pass. (I printed your note, Claudia, and have it hanging near my computer. I think that makes it nearly a legal document.) She is a woman who mustered through her doctorate while working fulltime, nurturing an infant, and carefully tending her marriage. So, yeah, maybe she knows a thing or two about the low days of an educational pursuit. Her support and occasional gentle kicks in the tush are beloved gifts.
As the semester races towards its conclusion I’ve been feeling the pressure. In a strange way I’ve also been feeling anonymous. Papers go in, and little response comes back. How am I doing? Have I veered decisively and wickedly of course to the extent that the rescue party has given up? What if my work sucks so badly they’ve stopped grading it and opted to pull a blanket over the dead writing? Who should I compare myself too? What matters to me? The questions go round and around in my head, but it is the self-doubt that gains ground.
Today I was rewarded with a nice response from a fellow classmate and I uttered an intensely felt “thank you!” to the universe. On certain weeks our class hosts online discussions based off of the reading material. My classmate read my online thoughts and wrote, “Thank you again for another great post! (I enjoy reading your posts because they always seem like another fun story to read – not like an assignment or work at all!)” I am so weary of academic speak that her compliment made me go outside the happy lines drawn in the sand. Thank you Carrie! Your kind words were the best part of my day!
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