Navigating the Puddles

There are multiple underpasses on one of the trails I run, here in my new town. The concrete path in one of them is always about 50 percent wet, based on my experiences with it so far. It is not pitch black in there, but it is pretty dark, and I usually take my sunglasses off as I toe my way through it.

The ground is somewhat uneven in the tunnel, with various pockmarks and substantial sections that house puddles. The puddles aren't very deep, probably less than an inch so; however, they're just deep enough that were the mesh tops of my Mizunos to be splashed with the standing puddle water, the rest of my run would be a tad to quite a bit uncomfortable.

So when I reach the tunnel, I take off my glasses for a better view, and I slow my pace as I navigate my way around the puddles.

My first week of graduate school,* if I may put in my two cents here, well it sucked. I did not have a fun week. I cried Sunday night, I traumatized my animal by driving him away from his home on Monday, spent the rest of the week feeling inadequate, out of place, exhausted, bored, and stressed, was caught off guard by another crying session this afternoon, recovered, headed to yet another meeting while still feeling pretty deflated (and did I mention exhausted?), spent 20+ minutes walking across campus, and then finally, finally! came home. I was in the door about ten minutes before I cracked open a Coors Light.

My friend Sarah had the great timing of planning a J-school get together for tonight, so I rejuvenated myself amongst new friends, food, a couple of lovely international accents :), and beer. So I am okay. Michael and Mom offered up supportive emails in response to my sad sack ones, Michael and Nick offered phone support, and Dibby offered what he specializes in, and we call that Cute Support. When a little furr ball is eager to see you when you walk in the door, when you realize he needs you and missed you while you were out, that he sees the value in you even if your fellow J-students seem to be getting so far ahead of you and you feel worthless, a cat's allegiance really means a lot. You either have a pet and know this, or you just need to trust me.

Am I excited for week two? No, not really. I like the prospect of a fresh start, but to be honest I never fully expect myself to follow through on my intentions in life. That right there is probably my overarching fear in this entire journey, that I will never overcome my own doubts in my ability to buck up and keep on going until it's done, done right, and done well. I have always been too good at quitting. Thinking about this, really staring it in the face, gives me tremendous, terrifying pause.

So no, I'm not excited. I hope, hope, hope that I will be caught up in the sleep department come Monday morning. I hope that I will have some more mental, physical, and spiritual energy to tackle these first semester courses that I am not too thrilled about but that will take me to the portion of the path I'm more excited about. The part where, in Michael's e-words, I "will shine." I hope I can learn to be an adult! and ditch my shitty attitude for an innocent childlike one, one that accepts, loves and encourages my peers as I work toward my turn in the success line.

My goal for week two is to navigate the puddles. Keep my eyes open, take off my blinders (or in some cases keep them on, to shut out my biggest temptations of self-doubt or angst toward others), slow down, and focus on the details of the path. Then one day, I trust--and when I can't my friends and family will remind me that they trust--I will emerge from the tunnel, enter the shining sunlight, and carry myself forward on dry ground. In the form that has been natural to me all along, not thinking twice about my foot placement or the pattern of my breath. But better, having navigated the puddles.

Dibby is sniffing the apartment. He's making an effort to navigate with his senses and adjust. It's my turn.

*Well, to be technical, this is my first week of graduate school, take two. A little trivia about yours truly: I completed a semester of graduate work in social work, but did not continue with the program because I didn't feel I should remain in that particular field. So technically, this is my second "first" week of graduate school.