(no subject)
I'm sorry, I know I'm so lazy about updating.
I have all these feelings lately, that sometimes it seems like I don't know what to do with them. It's strange to say, but it's almost like I don't actually know how to be happy, to let myself feel happy, because I've had so little experience existing like that.
I finished work a couple weeks ago. And I cried because here I was, willingly leaving behind this wonderful, fulfilling place, where I got to enjoy myself every day side-by-side with people whom I cared about and who cared about me. And I was so lucky to have been there and done that, and so lucky still to have a standing invitation back. A visit, if I want, or a job (one I love, despite it's lackluster pay!), if I need it. That security, in the back of my mind, which so many of my friends who have studied archaeology lack.
I moved in with Peter a week ago. A week is not a very long time, but do you know what is? The moving process. (In our case,) Five days of crap, where you are tired and stressed and a bit excited but frustrated and did I mention tired? Where you have to pack and unpack and build and shuffle and organize and reorganize and buy (and buy and buy) and assemble and, oh, it's just stress. And Peter and I worked so well together, did so much together, and never once in all that time and stress and exhaustion did we raise our voices or snap or any of the other things we should have done. And it's true that it wasn't 100% perfect, but it was 95% perfect, and I think that's a lot higher than most other couples who have ever experienced that draining first weekend of moving in with each other, and the most telling thing of all is that if you still want to live with each other after living through that, I think it's safe to say that it's a pretty good sign. Hard to say what living with each other is going to be like, but like most of my relationship with Peter, I'm not worried.
And finally, I started grad school today. I was 95% convinced that I was not ready for or wanting this until yesterday, and now after my first real day on campus (by that I mean classes, not orientation), I am 95% convinced that this is exactly what I should be doing and I am more than capable of handling it. Or, the coursework part, anyway. I'll get back to you about this thesis thing. It's not quite that I've been preparing for this my whole life (although, yes, of course I have), but more that this is what I should have been doing this whole time. For the first time in my academic career, I feel my potential. I feel engaged, and inspired, and eager, and just a touch out of my depth. I have never before felt like I could, maybe, fail at this academic stuff, and not in a bad way like, "Oh my God, I am panicky and can't handle this," but more like, "Hm, maybe I actually need to try harder and actively engage with the material and push myself to be better."
When I stop and evaluate where I am today, I'm stunned.
It's not that I'm not happy. I'm so happy. It's that I'm scared to let myself truly feel it, because I'm still convinced it's all going to disappear on me, slip away through my fingers, vanish into the night. I wasn't supposed to have this, this normal, happy, peaceful life, and it's hard changing ten years of hell with one year of heaven. But it's starting. I can sense it. Not only is this life the life I want, which is something I never could have believed I would chose for myself, but those things I said, and did, and thought during those "ten years of hell" are things I haven't said, or done, or thought hardly at all anymore. I catch myself being happy, and I think, "What strange emotion is this?"
I do miss my old place though. I miss my mother, my friends, and my old stomping ground. I like Laurier better than Western, but I love what Western represents for me. I like Guelph better than Woodstock, but I love what Woodstock represents for me. I like working better than academia, but I love what grad school represents for me. So all those things, I can live with, during this two-year transitional period. Because I know that if I can be happy, with these things, right now. Well, just imagine what I am coming up on in three, five, ten years, from now.
I have all these feelings lately, that sometimes it seems like I don't know what to do with them. It's strange to say, but it's almost like I don't actually know how to be happy, to let myself feel happy, because I've had so little experience existing like that.
I finished work a couple weeks ago. And I cried because here I was, willingly leaving behind this wonderful, fulfilling place, where I got to enjoy myself every day side-by-side with people whom I cared about and who cared about me. And I was so lucky to have been there and done that, and so lucky still to have a standing invitation back. A visit, if I want, or a job (one I love, despite it's lackluster pay!), if I need it. That security, in the back of my mind, which so many of my friends who have studied archaeology lack.
I moved in with Peter a week ago. A week is not a very long time, but do you know what is? The moving process. (In our case,) Five days of crap, where you are tired and stressed and a bit excited but frustrated and did I mention tired? Where you have to pack and unpack and build and shuffle and organize and reorganize and buy (and buy and buy) and assemble and, oh, it's just stress. And Peter and I worked so well together, did so much together, and never once in all that time and stress and exhaustion did we raise our voices or snap or any of the other things we should have done. And it's true that it wasn't 100% perfect, but it was 95% perfect, and I think that's a lot higher than most other couples who have ever experienced that draining first weekend of moving in with each other, and the most telling thing of all is that if you still want to live with each other after living through that, I think it's safe to say that it's a pretty good sign. Hard to say what living with each other is going to be like, but like most of my relationship with Peter, I'm not worried.
And finally, I started grad school today. I was 95% convinced that I was not ready for or wanting this until yesterday, and now after my first real day on campus (by that I mean classes, not orientation), I am 95% convinced that this is exactly what I should be doing and I am more than capable of handling it. Or, the coursework part, anyway. I'll get back to you about this thesis thing. It's not quite that I've been preparing for this my whole life (although, yes, of course I have), but more that this is what I should have been doing this whole time. For the first time in my academic career, I feel my potential. I feel engaged, and inspired, and eager, and just a touch out of my depth. I have never before felt like I could, maybe, fail at this academic stuff, and not in a bad way like, "Oh my God, I am panicky and can't handle this," but more like, "Hm, maybe I actually need to try harder and actively engage with the material and push myself to be better."
When I stop and evaluate where I am today, I'm stunned.
It's not that I'm not happy. I'm so happy. It's that I'm scared to let myself truly feel it, because I'm still convinced it's all going to disappear on me, slip away through my fingers, vanish into the night. I wasn't supposed to have this, this normal, happy, peaceful life, and it's hard changing ten years of hell with one year of heaven. But it's starting. I can sense it. Not only is this life the life I want, which is something I never could have believed I would chose for myself, but those things I said, and did, and thought during those "ten years of hell" are things I haven't said, or done, or thought hardly at all anymore. I catch myself being happy, and I think, "What strange emotion is this?"
I do miss my old place though. I miss my mother, my friends, and my old stomping ground. I like Laurier better than Western, but I love what Western represents for me. I like Guelph better than Woodstock, but I love what Woodstock represents for me. I like working better than academia, but I love what grad school represents for me. So all those things, I can live with, during this two-year transitional period. Because I know that if I can be happy, with these things, right now. Well, just imagine what I am coming up on in three, five, ten years, from now.