Because I have a poor sense of pattern recognition, I am applying to PhD programs. Because I am a masochist, I am actually looking forward to going back to school. I love taking classes. The Idea of comprehensive exams is actually appealing -- I test well and obviously love to read. The idea of writing a dissertation is enough send me into a panic attack, but it's the furthest mental hurdle to overcome and therefore the easiest to manage.

I remember feeling nebulous and unsure when applying for my MA. I had not settled completely on a city and a school, so deciding where to go was a slow and agonizing process. Now, there really is only one choice. And while I am giving myself options, playing there field, there is definitely something specific that I want.

Being certain does not give me peace. There is something that I want, and therefore something to be nervous about.

It makes me sound naive and unaware of myself, but only recently have I realized that I have a serious anxiety problem. It's robbed me of sleep for years, caused a slew of stomach problems, made me less than the person and partner I want to be. Then last night I was a tense, hysterical, nauseated mess, because I realized a package I mailed might not get to Ontario in time. Not an application, not a necessary document, an ordinary package to someone who would completely understand if it showed up a day or two late. I was in tears. I still have a headache from the tightness in my jaw and neck.

This is not just silly. This is something I genuinely need to take care of. Maybe before I start a PhD and my head actually explodes.

Labels: Academia, Anxiety