About two months ago, I received surprising but not unwelcome news that the graduate institution I'd been flirting with had somehow managed to put together a full funding package for me, pending my admission. Then in the time it usually takes me to research and settle on a new shampoo, I put together an application replete with glowing faculty recommendations, an APA-cited paper (thank you Dr. W), all the usual demographic information and a very personal statement.
Then I waited.
Sure, patience is a virtue, but thankfully just one of many, since I definitely don't have it. So while I waited, I passed the time by bothering everyone I knew incessantly. My dad, my partner, the PhD student who peer pressured me into starting this quest, my supervisor at work, my friend from back in Illinois, my dogs...everyone.
Once everyone told me (with varying degrees of tact) to quit it, I waited more quietly, pinging panicked thoughts around my own head instead.
After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably a couple of weeks, I finally found out that I got in. I was going to become a PhD student. Holy shit.
Since then, things have moved in fast and slow motion. I filled out more paperwork and ended my job at my alma mater. I finished the year in the public school district and spent an inordinate amount of time researching housing options in my future city. I told my other employers that my plans involved leaving them and their kids, and my university students that I wouldn't be back in the fall. I broke my own heart a little.
It's an interesting thing though; I've lived in this town for two years, and I've only felt at all at home in the last six months or so. Even though I'm usually a hermit, I've actually managed to make some friends. Just today I was actually invited to a social event. After a year and a half of not belonging, I've found some people to call my own, and in two months, I'll be gone.
Is this always how it goes? Do we only ever get a little bit of time, just moments really, where things really click? Does the clicking happen so slowly that we don't even notice it until it's about to pass? If we do wait it out, does it continue, or does the good stuff move on without us, just...leaving us stopped right where we stand?
It's hard not to be sad. It's hard not to be excited. The confluence is overwhelming, but I'm going to go. I need to go.
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