in which school starts again …

So today is the first day of my second semester officially back in school, and you’d think I’d be used to the concept by now. However? Yeah, that’s not the case. Instead, I had a little bit of an emotional breakdown a couple of days ago. I had something similar happen back in September, when it was like, “Oh. This is actually happening now. I’m … gonna do this?” But this is so much more real.

I got my Tdap (hadn’t been vaccinated since 2001 with this, which … eek) and my first round of TB tests (I have to get two, for some reason) taken care of, peed in a cup for drug tests, submitted info for a background check, got a physical done, got titer readings scheduled, signed a bunch of online documents, and now all I have to do before submitting my final application for admission into nursing school is get recertified in CPR, get stabbed for a TB test, and actually go get blood drawn. And that is it. And if I get accepted? I’m starting school on May 10th.

That is five months from now. LESS THAN THAT ACTUALLY.

I don’t know, it’s like I suffered from that future foreshortening thing I read about – where you don’t think that you’re going to live long enough or accomplish enough or that you just no longer have a future – for so long that I can’t actually imagine having a for-real plan for life. Every part of me wants to run, to quit and hide in a cave, working at a job that I don’t hate but that is clearly not for me because it’s something familiar and doesn’t really require that much of me. Then I can play with writing and painting and trying to make online content, except that I basically just think about it. I’ll take some action, sure, but I plan too much (or too little, depending on how you look at it, really) and get overwhelmed, just to return to mediocrity.

I don’t want to be mediocre. I am a talented writer and artist. I care about others. I am spunky and optimistic, even if that has been tempered through negative experiences. And now, I have an opportunity to better myself, and it’s terrifying. I’m not even sure where I’m going with this? Maybe I’m just trying to get it out to process it better, since I tend to stew and ponder and think without actually resolving anything. But it’s not really helping the anxiety that’s creeping up in my throat. Or is that excitement? How sad is it that I can’t really tell the difference?

Sigh, I’m gonna go do an aerobics class, I think. Moving around and bouncing to 80s music sounds like a great way to work through this.

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