Why I've sounded like a crazy person lately

As you all know, I've been planning to return to school to get a Masters in Social Work. But what you didn't know is that lately, I've been going through a rough patch. I'd been down and grumpy and feeling pretty much not like myself at all. In the past week, everything sort of snowballed and I had a mini meltdown. And here's the story why. Or rather two versions of the story why.

The short version...

I realized that the Social Work program wasn't for me once I sat through orientation Wednesday night. So I have withdrawn from the program. I'm going to de-stress and hope to return  in the new year with a new plan put into action.

Long version....

I've been feeling not right for a month or more. The closer I got to the start date for my program, the more not right I felt. I was grumpy and short with everyone. I wasn't sleeping. I wasn't hungry. I wasn't finding enjoyment in the things I always enjoyed. I was faking being happy most of the time. And I blamed it on the constant 100+ temps. And on the never ending drought. And on the insane cost of hay. 

When I was reading the syllabus for one of the two classes I had been planning to take, I realized that instead of feeling pumped about it, I was looking at assignments, thinking up ways to get out of them. And I said, "I shouldn't feel this way if Social Work is where my heart is." Okay, I really said "What the #$%# have I gotten myself into! I don't want to do this! Mommy!" I decided to at least go to the program orientation and listen. And then think and pray and pray some more. In the course of the day before orientation, I talked to my oldest and dearest friend, K, who sometimes knows me better than I do. And she told me that if I was feeling so freaked out, there was probably a reason. She asked me what I was passionate about. Obviously photography. (Which you knew.) But something you probably don't know, that K did, is writing. I've always wanted to be a writer. And to work around writers. It's the only thing, aside from horses and photography that my love for has never wavered. So K said she'd pray for me to figure things out. And I went to orientation after work. 

I have never, ever felt so uncomfortable in my life as I did in that meeting. There were 2nd generation social workers in there. People who run domestic abuse shelters. People who work with troubled kids and mentally challenged adults. Substance abuse counselors. People who have, from an early age, dedicated their lives to working toward becoming a social worker. I felt like a fake. Like an impostor. And like a fool. It was so, so clear. My heart wasn't in social work. Not one bit. It was a job that I knew I could do well, so I thought I'd change to that career. 

So after a long talk with my mom, and a quick talk with a second friend, I went to bed, praying to figure this out. And when I woke up at 4am the next morning my first thought was, I want to go write. (I'd started a short story a few weeks ago and its been constantly on my mind since.) And that told me my answer. Social work really and truly isn't for me. So I withdrew and now I'm going to research jobs in the publishing industry and masters programs in English or Literature. I'll probably prepare to take the GRE or GMAT depending on what info I find out about masters programs. And I'm going to write a bunch.

The end of my story is that, for the first time in months, I laughed without faking it. I sang along to the radio in my car. And I feel like I'm no longer carrying around a ton of bricks. I feel free and optimistic again.

The moral of the story is to listen to your instincts. They'll let you know when you're on the right path. The other moral is, just because you could do something, and do it well, doesn't mean that your heart is in it. And you can lie to yourself. And you can lie to others. But you can't ever convince your heart that the lie is the truth.

~Jocelyn (the crazy woman)