My first year of grad school was rougher than I ever anticipated. No joke. Someone, I’m sure, tried to tell me about it. I probably wasn’t listening. How hard could it be? How hard could it be? I should have paid more attention.
I have two semesters under my belt at this point, thus I’m halfway through the struggle, and every semester has taken my everything. Between job hunting to pay for bills and making sure said job is not some retail gig at Macys (clearly at this point in your life, every job needs to have some relevance to building a career); to picking the right classes and maintaining good grades; to networking (you clearly want a good gig post grad school); to planning summer practicums …the list is endless …the point remains that juggling all that sapped me of a social life, cut into a love life, and consequently leaves me spent and wanting to crawl into a cave of further solitude at the end of every semester.
Yet, I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. Everything challenges me and everything makes me cry, yet I believe the gauntlet will produce something worthwhile that will take me to places where I will do important things. I suppose this is the silver lining in all of this. So here I am. Grateful for one year down, expectant and anxious about another year to come and hopeful for the years thereafter.
The end. Not really.