2025 – truly a year of changes and what seems to be unrealistic expectations.
Now that I’m thirty, the hypothetical bar feels higher than ever. I decided to go to college in what some would consider “late in life”. While I dabbled in community college, taking a few classes here and there, I took the serious plunge into real, grown-up school with all the real, grown-up tuition at the age of twenty-six.
I do kick myself sometimes – wondering if I started too late. Beginning an entirely new career shift at the age where people are typically getting established into theirs seems farfetched and makes me feel so behind. It does sound ridiculous when I say it out loud, though – especially when I don’t think I believe that at all. I’ve become proficient in focusing on the most negative angles of any project I do; preparing myself to brace for the impact of failure that may or may not happen.
Throughout Cosmetology and Barbering school, I can vividly remember struggling to do a hair cut or some god awful perm and think, I will never get this! With 1600+ hours of hands-on training, I couldn’t imagine spending a day in a salon or barbershop, taking on any client and their outlandish request without an instructor to guide me.
Sure, I fucked up some haircuts along the way but finding a niche and sticking to it built a valuable skill that I can utilize anywhere. More importantly, I earned and tailored a confidence in me I desperately needed.
When I dove head first into college, I didn’t really know what to expect. I did very poorly throughout elementary, middle, and especially high school. I had a hard time focusing and was too embarrassed to wear my glasses; making it impossible to see any teachings on the board. In high school, I simply didn’t care. Neither of my parents went to college nor did they really know what was happening with me academically so the push to do well wasn’t a priority. Boys and getting my driver’s license was my priority. Somehow I was able to finesse my way into having a class schedule that almost exclusively consisted of Ag. Going to Ag at my high school required a whole lot of hanging-out and an easy passing grade. I had older boyfriends with driver’s licenses who would pick me up and “rescue” me from the nightmare of high school. This – not surprisingly – led to me briefly dropping-out followed by an independent study continuation school that fortunately still supplied me with a high school diploma. Lucky me.
Anyway, here I sit with three months left until I graduate. Sure, I’m excited in an I did it kind of why but then what? What’s next?
Like the true psychopath that I am, I applied to Graduate school that – if admitted – would start in August, leaving me with just under three months of freedom from homework and reading. So. Much. Reading.
The work I’m pursuing does require a Master’s but, here I am, overthinking what that may look like for me. Am I capable of taking on a field that is continuously changing; unknowingly for the good or bad?
The challenges I will face in the next six months weighs heavily on whether I get into grad school. My GPA is good, my test scores are good, and I’ve proven to myself that I am completely capable of doing hard things. To put in a completely made up percentage from my own observations, I’d say I have a 75% chance of getting accepted. Acceptance means two more years are even more rigorous work; internships and testing. While I’ve learned that I’m capable of rigorous work, I’m left to wonder if I’m doing it for the right reasons. The need to prove myself seems to outweigh the desire to advance my education and pursue clinical work. Remove the thousands dollars of tuition and sure, let’s get a fucking Master’s. The complete reality of it all is a grotesque amount of financial strain my uncertainty will bring when I am quite possibly pursuing the wrong thing. Knowing me, if I earn a Master’s, I’ll want a JD.
As of now, I have yet to be accepted and part of me hopes that I don’t.
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