Being on the verge of tears for about a thousand different reasons while at work is a really interesting experience. I’ve been mildly depressed for pretty much the majority of the year due to the fact that I went from one crap-paying stressful job to a slightly better paying yet mind-numbing one. My days are completely routine and I spend most of my time alone in an office staring at a computer screen.
It hit me today that I have to go back to school, which is an idea I’ve been toying with for about a month now. The thought is enticing. The reality, not so much. As much as I wish studying for the GMAT would be some sixty second montage with an upbeat, get-down-to-business pop song playing in the background, that’s not actually the case. At all. Like, not even a little.
Then there’s the thing that has ruled all of my life decisions: fear.
What if I don’t get in?
Which was, of course, the first question my mother asked me when I first mentioned this idea to her.
What if my mediocre undergrad GPA,and nonexistent extracurricular activities other than what I did at Truman (the school I didn’t even graduate from) aren’t enough?
What if I’m not good enough?
Do admissions boards actually care that I’ve since found a passion and want to pursue it? Do they give a shit about my personality sob story that makes it really fucking hard to apply myself when I don’t see a point to the effort? Or will they just think I’m lazy?
The fear got to me a couple weeks ago and I actually abandoned this idea until today.
Today, I was bored out of my mind. It was one of those days at work where I finished everything I needed to do within my first hour of being there. Which just left 7 more hours to kill. I’ve felt like I’m slowly dying all day, and the thought came to me again:
I have to go back to school.
And then the fear creeps in. But today, instead of succumbing to the fear and abandoning the idea again, I remembered a conversation I had with a mentor when I was seventeen and applying to colleges.
He played into my fears, and ultimately convinced me that I wasn’t talented enough to bother auditioning for my dream school out of state. I believed him. He had this idea that failing is the worst thing that could possibly happen to you, and would continue to influence my decisions with that line of thinking throughout the next couple of years. I became terrified of failing.
Sometimes I wonder what that version of my life looks like, the one where I ignored him and auditioned for my dream school anyway. I think I would have been accepted. After that, I’m not sure. I know the 26 year old Becky in that version of reality is nothing like this one, though.
what if I don’t get in?
Then I figure something else out. I take some classes outside of a degree to boost my GPA. Try again. Maybe fail again.
At least then I’ll know. I won’t be cowering behind some hypothetical situation in my mind that’s not the ideal outcome.
I’m going to go back to school.