Please Excuse Me While I Freak Out for a Minute...

So...recently I've been feeling pretty discouraged. This is a rare thing for me, I must admit. Normally, I can look at a difficult situation and know without a doubt that things are going to get better. "It will all work out in the end." That is something that I firmly believe, and it has kept me from being buried by discouragement and depression on many occasions. I'm a positive person, but I also have a pretty realistic view of the world around me. I know that life isn't some perfectly rosy place, filled with rainbows, unicorns, and cotton candy clouds. I know this, but I have always been able to see beyond the difficulty or frustration of the moment, and understand that things will get better.

Oh sure, I have moments when I get overwhelmed, just like everyone. Those moments when everything just kind of comes crashing down on you and you break down for a few moments. But then those moments end and you can wipe away your tears and be just fine.

This is a different level of discouragement. I'm not depressed. I'm not feeling overwhelmed. This is more of a numbness, a coldness. One of those moments when I really wonder how I can possibly accomplish the task I have set for myself. This emptiness, the numbing cold, it all feels an awful lot like ...well...fear. Not the kind of fear that I feel when I see a huge, creepy spider crawling towards me, or anything like that.

This is the kind of fear that I felt when I found out I was going to be a mother for the first time. The kind of fear that I felt when I decided to get married. This fear is the kind that you feel in your gut, in your heart of hearts. No matter how happy and excited I was on those occasions, that fear was still there, lurking beneath the surface. It is the fear of the unknown. But beyond that, it is the fear of meeting the unknown, and finding yourself unequal to the task.

From the moment that I decided to go back to school and get a degree, I have been so excited, so happy. Jazzed, if you will. Education has always been so important to me, and getting a college degree is something that I want with all my heart. It was never about the "piece of paper" as so many people call it. It's not just having that diploma, it's the privilege of attaining a higher level of knowledge and learning. The opportunity to really use my intellect and challenge myself as a human being.

So when I started to go back to school, I was so excited I barely had room for any other emotions. Sure, I was a little nervous, but it was barely a blip on my emotional radar. I was enjoying the experience so much, but I was having some serious difficulty with choosing that ever-elusive major. I finally settled on one, but it still didn't feel quite right for me.

It took me nearly three years to find this specific program, and it seemed to happen entirely by chance. It took me almost another year to make my decision. When I finally decided to go for it, to become a Speech Language Pathologist, I knew that it was the right choice. It was where I was supposed to be, and what I was supposed to do. From the moment I started the program, it has been almost effortless for me. Every class, each subject seems to be second nature. I love it, I really do.

 But recently, despite the fact that I know that this path is the one for me, I can't help looking at the challenges ahead of me and shiver with real fear. For the first time since I decided to start this undergrad program and get a Master's degree, I am really wondering if I can handle the burden once it's been placed on my shoulders. Once I start this Master's degree program, it will be pretty much the same as having a full time job. Between classes and clinic hours, I will be spending the vast majority of my week on campus. That may not seem to be such a big deal, but as a mom, that means a lot of time spent away from my chiddlers.

And then Mom Guilt inevitably sets in. That very specific type of guilt that we mothers experience whenever we do anything for ourselves. For most of us, it's pretty irrational and we know it, because we know that if we were presented with the choice between our kids and anything else in the world we would choose our kids. Every time. Period. But we can't help but feel, even under normal circumstances, that if we're not setting aside everything that we want for the sake of our children, we are failing as parents. Most of us know that feeling that way is completely inaccurate and unfair to ourselves. Why can't we pursue our own dreams while simultaneously being awesome Moms and role models to our children? But no matter how much I tell myself that I have nothing to feel bad about, I still can't entirely escape from my own irrational self-imposed guilt.

So when I begin grad school, that Mom Guilt will more than likely become stronger, because my school work load is only going to intensify. It's going to be very hard work, and a lot of long days.

And that's only if I get into the grad program!

This professional field is still relatively small, but it's growing, and it's highly competitive. Fiercely competitive. Do I really even stand a chance? What if I don't even get into a grad program? What then? I can't just walk away, and I won't. But how many times will I have to apply before I'm accepted? And I  also plan to apply to programs outside of the state of Utah (mainly just to see what would happen). What if I do get accepted to one of those? Do I really want to relocate my family for two years? What about the year-long externship that I will be required to complete before I can get my license to practice in this field? Where will I go? What will my chosen specialty be? How can I do this and still be an attentive mother to my kids? How will they handle all of this? What about my husband? I can't just ask him to leave behind his job here in Utah. He says he can relocate with me, but honestly what will the job market be like in the place we end up, (whenever we end up there)?

I worry about a lot of things. Trust me, I have a black belt in worrying. I am the Jedi Master, (as I'm sure you can see here). But this is different. When I worry in general, I am worrying about things that might happen. It's really not rational, and I know that it isn't, but I keep worrying because of that tiny part of my brain that thinks if I stop worrying so much, the chance of these things actually happening will suddenly increase a hundredfold.

This feels like something beyond worry, because several of these things that I'm afraid of are things that are outside of my control, but will definitely come to pass, one way or the other. I can't look into the future here and see where my family and I are going to end up, because this is an absolute unknown. I can't draw from previous experience and look outside of the fear and know that everything will work out, because I have nothing to draw from!

So, although I still have about two years of undergrad classes to complete before any of this happens, I am still staring down at a deep, dark chasm of mystery. On the other side of that chasm, I see nothing but a dark, swirling mist of the unknown, and momentary glimpses of a teeny, tiny little ledge. I have to find a way to cross that deep chasm, and pass into the swirling mist on the other side--aiming for that barely visible little ledge. It's a real leap of faith, and I guess I'm having a really hard time preparing myself for the moment when I will just have to close my eyes and jump.

I think the real catalyst behind all of this fear is the fact that most of my fellow students that I've spent the last two years getting to know will be graduating at the end of this semester, and moving on to the grad programs of their choice. I won't lie, I'm feeling a little left behind, but I have chosen to take four years to complete this program instead of two years for the sake of my kids. I want them to both be in school full time before I begin my Master's degree to lessen the sting on those days when I'll be gone all day long. I don't blame anyone, I'm not angry. I'm doing what's best for me and my family. I just can't help but sit back and think about how strange my classes are going to feel when I'm surrounded by all new people this upcoming fall.

But I suppose that the fact that all of these people are moving on has also caught my attention, and made this whole thing very, very real for me. My future career path is no longer some ambiguous, abstract idea. It's real, it's concrete, and I have absolutely no idea of the exact path that I will end up following to get there.

I won't lie. I'm pretty scared.