Posts Tagged ‘ grad school ’

“Here’s goes nothing. And everything.”

It’s been a long time, I know.  It’s amazing how much has happened this month and how such drastic changes can swirl you into plans of action, leaving other things, like blogging, to sit upon the shelf.  In September, my husband and I went to Pennsylvania to visit a friend and her partner.  While there, I kept getting the sense that my friend was pregnant, and she had the same sense, too, but the test came out negative.  Two weeks after we returned home, we found out that our suspicions were, in fact, correct.  In that moment I knew my life was about to change…I sensed it…but I had no clue HOW it would change.  My husband wanted to move there from the moment he saw Pennsylvania.  My friend and I don’t like being separated by distance, so naturally, we’d like to be near one another.  But, of course, I had grad school to attend to and I wasn’t entirely keen on living close to only a Wal-Mart when I am used to living within minutes of everything I like to have access to (Whole Foods, Target, TJ Maxx, Costco, Ross).  Something in me stirred though, and I wasn’t listening.

For months I ignored that feeling.  I have grad school coming up…a DOCTORAL PROGRAM.  Who passes that up?  Who does that?  It’s in a place that I don’t want to live — extremely high cost of living, the highest unemployment rate in the United States, high crime rates, and tropical, humid weather.  None of it appealed to me, but it was my dream and it was only five years.  Only five years?  Are you listening to yourself?!  FIVE YEARS.  That is a hell of a long time to be in a place you loathe, where you would likely struggle financially, and for the sake of…what?  Again, I ignored the feelings, the thoughts.  I ignored my husband’s pleas to leave Florida, well, at least as far as he knew.  Inside, I prayed for guidance and I told God/The Universe/Destiny/Fate (whatever you want to call it), “If I am not meant to do this, you’re going to have to give me a huge, unmistakable sign.  I need 100% reassurance that leaving this behind is what I am supposed to do here.”

And I got the sign.  Several of them, actually.  My friend had a really horrible time with her first child — the post-partum depression was nearly crippling.  Her circumstances were vastly different than they are now, but the risk for post-partum is huge and with her psych history and current lack of emotional support, she told me that she needed me to be there, if only for the birth and a couple of weeks after.  What she wouldn’t allow herself to say, for the sake of supporting my dreams, was that I needed to be there to help her weather the storm, regardless of how long it took.  Sign number one.  Sign number two was an eery sense followed by dreams of the act that I sensed.  I saw my friend, holding her new baby, both of them deceased.  Literal, figurative, whatever.  That was all I needed.  I kept having the same dream, and all psychological theories aside, I know when my gut is telling me something and I know what happens when I don’t listen to my gut.  There were other signs, too, but those two were the ones that resonated within me daily.

Earlier this month, while my husband and I were driving to Costco, I was silent.  We pulled into a parking spot, I turned off the car, and I just sat there.  “We have to move to Pennsylvania.  I’m not going to Miami for school.”  He smirked and replied, “I knew you’d come around.”  We talked for over an hour in that parking lot, making plans for our unplanned, unrehearsed, off-the-beaten-path future.  Ironically, when I finally conceded to that overwhelming feeling within me and I made the choice, I felt an overwhelming peace and comfort.  It felt right.  I called my friend and told her and plans began to unfold seamlessly.

We’re moving in with my friend and her boyfriend (who has the emotional IQ of a tack and is so devoid of relating to a woman on any level that I often want to lobotomize him, hoping that maybe less of a brain would at least make him teachable).  We’re selling everything we own and shipping our “close to the heart” items and much needed things via UPS.  We’re taking all six of our cats* and our dog and driving up to Pennsylvania just a few days after I graduate.  I’ve applied to Master’s programs in that area for the Fall semester and I’ve been researching jobs.  So far, things seem to be falling into place.

What others might see as insane, I am completely at peace with.  I know this is what I’m meant to do.  I’m not sure what the future holds, but if I’ve learned nothing else in my life, I’ve learned to trust my instincts.  Since I do not have any family that I claim (more on that, later), this friend and a few chosen others, ARE my family.  I’ve spent my entire life wanting to belong in a family, and I actually have that offered to me, now.  Family or a career?  In retrospect, the choice is clear, but at the time, I simply couldn’t see it.  Here’s goes nothing.  And everything.

Wish me luck.  🙂 Continue reading

“Secretly, when no one is around, I wonder if there was any truth in how they saw me.”

I’m 30.  Newly re-married.  No kids.  About to be accepted to a doctoral program (God-willing).  I’m in college, my husband younger than myself, my friends typically five years younger as most are my peers in within the collegiate environment. I don’t feel 30.  I still feel rather clueless and impressionable.  I still feel as though having kids is an option for years down the road when I’m ready.  Will I ever be ready?  Will I be ready when it’s too late?  In my late 20’s I figured out the things in life that most people figure out in their early 20’s.

In my early 20’s I felt years older than 30.  I was stuck in a shitty marriage, faithful in taking my birth control pill, and too busy surviving to actually live.  I felt as if I would have a mid-life crisis and end up in some psych ward disclosing my then-husband’s infidelity and how I lacked the coping skills to just pack my shit and leave him.  While that person I was is merely a memory (and not a fond one, at that), that whole story feels like a scene from a book or movie, not a portion of my life laid to rest. I remember what it was to feel old.

The medical field claims that at the age of 35, women reach the threshold for advanced maternal age and high risk pregnancy. The risk for down syndrome increases, as does the rate for multiples (I’ve always felt as though I would have twins).  My doctoral program is five to six years in length, which gives me a year before I exceed the age limit of a certain government agency I long to work for.  If I were in my 20’s…all of this would be feasible.  I feel that pursuing my dreams means I have to sacrifice motherhood on some levels.  Other parts of me think I could swing it — have kids after I complete my graduate courses and before/during my dissertation.  It’s highly do-able.

Or…I could give up my dream to work in that particular government agency and start my family around the age of 35, which is actually quite common these days.  I would have the career, the lessons learned, five years with my husband, and he would be finished with his initial schooling as well.  At that point, he could join the military as planned, and we could go on our merry way as I can work just about anywhere with my educational background.  I could be the stay at home mom/part-time consultant that I’ve always wanted to be.

There are so many options before me.  I think I’m just fearful of the roads ahead.  Truth be told, I’m terrified that I won’t get into a doctoral program because my GRE scores weren’t what I wanted them to be (even after rigorous studying).  There is a strong possibility that I have a learning disability (even with a genius IQ) that screws up processing.  My scores didn’t align with my grades, my letters of recommendation, my CV, my devotion to activities gearing me toward grad school.  I now doubt my personal statement (which I felt absolutely confident in at the time I sent it).  Frankly, I fear failure.  I fear that I won’t fulfill all of the dreams that I have — that one lifetime simply isn’t enough.

I can still hear the perfectionistic tone of my step-father, telling me as I grew up college wasn’t an option — it was a definite, and later, as an adult, just encouraging me to get an associates degree because he didn’t think I could hack going any farther. I’ve proved him wrong, numerous times, and yet I still seek his acceptance and approval.  I will never get it.  Consciously, I know that, but on some level, that little girl within me thinks that if I just do *this much better* that he’ll notice.  He didn’t notice when I was thin and beautiful…when I modeled…and I fit the mold he always expected me to fit into it.  He didn’t notice (or come visit) when I was in the ICU for a nearly a month with a guarded prognosis.  He didn’t notice when I graduated with my first degree with honors.  He didn’t notice when I re-married.  Oh, wait…he did notice when I remarried…only because his wife fell upon my social networking site and saw the pictures.  He noticed that HE hadn’t been invited.  Regardless, he has never had faith in me — he assumed the worse — and part of me fears that this time, he could be right.

A peer at school already received her first request for an interview from a PsyD program.  I check the mail daily…hoping…yet reserved because just as easily as I could receive a request for interview, I could also receive a letter of rejection.  This is more nerve-wracking than my letter of acceptance into college or the nursing program.  I’m due for my miracle and I know I am an excellent candidate, but it doesn’t change that looming fear that anticipation brings.  In these tense moments, my friends have said that they hear the voices of their parents, loud and strong, reminding them to hold onto faith — they can do it — they WILL do it.  I hear the voices of my parents telling me that I will fail — that I should have tried harder — that I should have planned better.  I’ve been strong enough to silence the voices of my past and continue to push forward, having to fight even harder to overcome those voices and the spirit of failure they spoke on my life, but sometimes I wonder.  Secretly, when no one is around, I wonder if there was any truth in how they saw me.