My brain is full of words.
Two to four essays plus 2-4 lengthy papers a week.
Discussions with peers.
Writing, writing, writing.
But where to find the time? And the energy? If I weren’t so close to finishing this quarter (3.5 weeks), I’d consider calling it quits. With the tables turned and Ben supporting me through grad school – in a nontraditional manner as he works full-time and I am both a graduate student and stay-at-home mom – it’s amazing how many words remain unsaid between us. As I teeter from complete breakdowns to feeling on top of everything.
Mostly, the word is why. Why did I decide to pursue a graduate degree now? With two kids, 3 and 2, and another on the way (making it 3, 2, newborn)?
I suppose it’s my crazy feminist-like belief that a woman should not neglect her dreams any more than a man should. I also believed that all that support I provided my husband through his years of undergraduate education and that partial year of medical school (when, despite his being near the top of his class, he realized he did not want to pursue medicine) would provide a foundation from which he could support me.
Naturally, I thought I’d have more time during the day. I forgot about the havoc two toddlers can cause in an hour and how exhausting pregnancy is, even in the second trimester. Nap time work? Heh. Waking up early? If I want to risk feeling out of control from exhaustion for the next week. Staying up late? Without the distractions of my husband, sure. The line between too much and too little is thin and those comforting words I’ve told myself since starting – you can do this, it will be difficult but worth it – aren’t so comforting in the middle of it all.
And all those words spoken between us? Of me explaining that I need his help and him saying that he will give it? Are easier said than done.
Words. So many words. Too many words.
What I want now is answers and time. Things that words can’t give and that I can’t seem to find.