A Death in the Family

Now that I am effectively NOT going back to school next week I feel like there has been a death in the family.

This family member called Grad School (also known as papers, grading or goddamned meetings) who would sit at the table during dinner, who would sometimes hog the covers in bed, who would drink the last of the milk and put the jug back in the fridge, who would sometimes surprise me with a good book, who brought all kinds of cool friends over, who led me to too much chocolate, who guzzled gas, who bought me jewlery, who taught me to sleep with my eyes open while smiling and nodding… this dear friend is gone. For now. Perhaps forever. Who knows.

I feel the loss just as sharply. No, I’m not being melodramatic. As much as some folks have reassured me that I can go back and finish in a year when my suspension is up, that I can go into a doctoral program and not worry, I know it’s not so. I know overwell that life has a way of going on and demanding to be lived. I know that I will be either working or desperately looking for jobs and that whatever lies ahead is a mystery to me.

So, for now, I’m in mourning.

This involves moments of denial when I catch myself thinking about going back into the classroom to teach and how much I love the first day of class with all its potential and possibilities.

This involves moments of grief (compounded by hormones) such as bursting into tears over back to school shoppers because I won’t be back to schoolin’.

This involves moments of panic over how on earth I will get a job in the area when schools are starting next week.

This involves moments of escapism when I flee into a book or a nap and just forget how much it hurts.

And it involves ocassional tantrums for good measure. “It’s not fair” really shouldn’t be part of my vocabulary but I can’t have the milk and cookies so I’ll have the foot stompin’ (and the nap!).

I’ve lost something (one?) dear to me. I’ve lost a major part of who I was and what I did.

I still have an appeal but even if I am allowed to go back (which is not looking likely but all the positive energy you can channel that way will help) it won’t ever be the same.

So, now I’m forced to figure out what I’m going to do next, who I’m going to be next. I’ve been so many wonderful and challenging things… what’s next? Even through the sorrow of loss I have a sense of excitement wondering where this strange road is leading me next. I have no idea but I’m sure it won’t be boring.


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