Veysmere.

I called a friend yesterday to go over the content of the May workshop newsletter, and told her that I’d turned in my final copy of my thesis, and she asked how I felt – if I was excited. Decidedly not, I replied. There’s all the administrative rigamarole to go through before I can call this chapter of my life closed. Turns out one of the professors won’t be on campus to sign off on my thesis – literally, sign it – so I now have to see what my options are without that signature as the thing is due tomorrow. But I’ve seen some chatter about Monday being “okay,” but I have to find out.

I’m SO over it. Over it all. I don’t really give a crap. I’m tired, and broke, and exhausted, and unhappy.

Like today’s blog? 

Sorry for the Debby Downer moment, but really, I’m tired of this crap. I get that I graduate with a Master’s degree, but it doesn’t feel that cool anymore. It feels like a lot of hoops at the moment, and I have no clue what any of it will “get” me. I began lamenting in my morning pages the same, and then started to write all the awesome shit that I’ve done and learned in the last year and a half. How two years ago, I was in a job in a dysfunctional organization where my position was going to be cut, and I made the decision, finally, to go back to school.

I know that I’ve done a lot. But it doesn’t feel “worth it” at the moment. I feel tired and lonely and despairing of what the fuck I’m doing with my life. I feel … self-pitying, I suppose.

And I know some practical cures for it, and I know it’ll pass. But right now, I feel like there are too many demands on me, and my health is fucked up, and phooey.

You may know this isn’t typical for me. I do have some minor tantrums now and then, but this moroseness and lethargy is not typical. I get that it’s time limited, and “once xyz is done” then I’ll be better. But I’m fucking tired of having to do xyz and THEN being better. 

Once the thesis is handed in. 

Once the thesis is signed off. 

Once the thesis is uploaded. 

Once the school workshop is done. 

Once the May workshop is advertised. 

Once the flyers are up. 

Once graduation happens. 

Once … what? 

And then What?

It’s not delayed gratification. I’m not sure where the fucking gratification is. It’s like some carrot on a stick. One more stupid thing, and then I’ll be happy? Then I’ll know what the fuck to do with my life? One more stupid flight of fancy, and I’ll be stable and secure and loved?

What the fuck? I KNOW it’s all ridiculous, and I thank any of you who have read this far into my pity party. But, … I am tired. I don’t want any more hoops. I want to be done. I don’t want to feel so damn lost. I don’t have a fucking clue where I’m going – what I’m doing – what I want to be doing – where I want to be doing it. I feel like a toddler and a teenager, without the freedom of their understandable childishness.

No, I’m not relieved that the stupid thing is done. I don’t care a fuck about it. It’ll go on a shelf somewhere. Yes, I did it. But so the fuck what? How many fucking people have Master’s degrees and PhDs and work for f’ing starbucks. Literally. I went out yesterday, one of my two ventures off this stupid couch, to get food for my cat, and the woman who works there and I chat usually, and she said that THREE PhDs applied for her counter job the last time they were hiring. A PhD. Selling cat toys. Wtf.

Yes, today will give me plenty of opportunities to move out of or through this funk. Yes, even yesterday, I reached out to a few folks to make happy plans, get out of myself and this poopiness. I know it’ll pass. I know other people see it’ll pass, but in the moment, it’s just ass.

Thank you for coming to my pity party. I wish I’d gotten you a hat.

(*Veysmere = Vey is mir = "woe is me" in yiddish. "Oy vey" is a shorthand.)