I do not like taking medicine. For one thing, obtaining medicine usually means making a trip to see a doctor of some sort, which usually means there’s something wrong with me, which usually makes me very unhappy. Beyond whatever is ailing me, nine times out of ten the medicine I receive causes me to feel even more off-kilter the first couple of days I take it. And then there are the time intervals that have to occur between doses of the medicine, which commonly results in my staying up odd hours to get the cycle right.
I only mention this because last night I decided that instead of blogging I would just go to bed early, simply in an attempt to line up with the schedule my latest medication requires. Even without writing, though, I still managed to spend a good chunk of the day on the computer. A significant portion of that time was spent sorting out what I would need to do to become a college student once again in the fall of 2014.
That’s right: I’m going back to school.
At least, I think I’m going back to school. I’ve been accepted, and I met with an adviser today. I’ve got an application in for financial aid, and I’ll probably be talking soon with someone about that, too. I just need to get registered for classes now.
Oh, and did I mention I’m absolutely terrified? Because things … just … got … real.
In the area of ideals, this venture seems like a no-brainer to me. I’m going back to school to take psychology classes, fueled by my own experiences with counselors, the progress I’ve made with my own depression, a desire to help others, and a drive to further explore some of the issues I’ve been writing about here. Even beyond that, my writing style has morphed over the years from fairly loose to a more analytical style, which is suited more to a field such as psychology. My wife is on board with the idea, and she has been encouraging me to follow through. For the first time in a long time, I feel as if I know what God wants me to do.
I’ve been here before, though, where everything seems be lining up perfectly … and then the bottom drops out. I’m nervous about trying to support my family and take classes at the same time. I’m afraid the extreme social anxiety I experienced the first time I went through college will be with me again. I don’t know how long all this will take, and if it will all be worth it in the end. I’m obsessive about wasting time and (especially) money on things, and the potential exists here to do both.
So I suppose I could still potentially freak out, turn tail, and run the other way from all this. Or I could follow what I feel like I’m supposed to do, walk in faith, and see what happens. Either way, I’m not going to be the same on the other side.
Here we go…