The Rabid Grammarian

I've come to realize that there is a lot about me that leads to social isolation. I am a dreaded morning person, I don't drink (I find nothing wrong with it, it just isn't for me) and people apparently don't like their grammar being corrected. Having a child is equally isolating. When most of your stories revolve around bodily fluids you don't get invited to many parties.
In fact, almost all major life changes come with a subsequent social isolation, even if only temporary. Beginning or graduating school, getting married, getting divorced, having a baby, moving, starting (or ending) a  job. It's no wonder these events are considered some of the most stressful ones a person can experience. In each case we effectively lose a part of our social support system in addition to the major life change.

I recently received my acceptance letter to graduate school. I am positively over the moon that I'm finally, after nearly a decade, able to pursue my goal of going to graduate school. I'd always planned on going back but life got in the way. What started as two years to recover from educational burnout stretched out so long that it felt that I was dreaming the impossible dream. Maybe I still am, for now I have to negotiate graduate classes and a toddler. And I am scared shitless I won't be able to do it.
In all honesty, it wasn't truly "life" that got in the way. It was fear. In general I've been a "don't rock the boat, especially if you're in it" type person. Security is nice. You know where you stand, it's comfortable. True change never comes from being comfortable. You have to leave your comfort zone. It's scary. It's really easy to make excuses. And then all of a sudden nearly a decade has passed and whatever it was you wanted to do seems to be completely unattainable.

Lives lived in fear are never exceptional. I'm not talking about exceptional in the curing cancer or achieving peace in the Middle East sense. I'm talking about life being worth living. I know if I never got my Master's degree (at least) I would always feel regret and disappointment. I grew up with a mother who was terminally disappointed. Somewhere along the way she gave up. I spent most of my life trying to be perfect to make her happy, never realizing that it wasn't my fault or my responsibility. I don't want to make the same mistake with my children. It may be difficult, it may be scary, but at least my kids won't spend their lives thinking they were the source of my disappointment.

When you grow up that way, you try to fill the void. No one seems to fill the void with happy happy joy joy. You fill it with sex, with food, with money, with drugs, etc. But you're forever incomplete until you fill it with what you really need. For me, that's education. In addition to stopping the cycle of disappointed mothers in my family, making this change will set a huge example to my children. I will be demonstrating that education is a value, that it's never too late to pursue education and it will make it more likely that my children will pursue education themselves. These are the values that keep me on track when the negative self talk (and judgement from others about going back to school when I have a baby) starts up. Sure, it's uncomfortable, but that's the cost of change.