End of term is closing in and I’m freaking out. I thought I was freaking out because end of term means an avalanche of deadlines and crucial assignments and being judged and what if I fail because really I probably deserve to, right?! (Never mind that my current average means there is no way I could possibly fail anything.)
It hit me today that I’m freaking out because end of term means end of term. Over. Complete. And … I did it. And I did it means I’m capable of more. I’m freaking out because … success. Success is just as scary as failure. I don’t know if I can handle it. I’m pretty sure I can’t live up to it. Maybe I could just hide now?
Also problematic, end of term means finally processing the massive shift in self-concept that may or may not have taken place over the last three months. I don’t know. Three months is just not a lot of time to have your whole entire sense of self turned inside out, y’know?
And it tweaks my C.D.O. to lose a routine I’ve grown comfortable with. Don’t get me wrong — I’m looking forward to the time to read what I want, write what I want, and do what I want. And catching up on housework will be a huge relief. (Speaking of things that tweak the C.D.O.) But … I’m going to feel a little bit lost and a whole lot shell-shocked when the doors close behind us on that last day.
And finally, that. Right there. That “us“. This group has become an us, and there are relationships that have claimed space in my world.
Which fact is the weirdest and scariest of all.
So, yah. School is doing its job, I guess?