Selah // Something Witty

Same old feeling is back again. Take me to the next phase.

Date: 09.27.17 -- Day 55
Music: "Take Me To The Next Phase" / The Isley Brothers

This is far more upbeat than I actually feel. Why? I head back to university tomorrow.

It probably is a sign that I feel more dread than actual joy going back to class. I think I've been away for so long, part of me wonders what the hell is the point even though I've been hacking away at this degree for over a decade of my life. I need to finish. I need to go back. But my body and my brain are just not quite there.

Part of the dread is this weird idea that the universe pokes me to go in different directions or tries to help me make decisions. If I'm struggling, I subconsciously wait for a sign. Which, as a scientist (kind of), is kind of ridiculous. As a person of indeterminate faith, but semi-heavy religious upbringing, that sounds about right. Instinct. Mojo. Signs. I roll with it as much as I do empirical data. It makes life interesting. So imagine my brain when I sliced open my hand taking out the trash Saturday afternoon. And by slice, I mean fully gauged. Just shy of stitches as it slid more long than deep. My first thought as blood is rolling down my arm was, "I don't have time for this". That is to say that's my response for any medical emergency that happens to my person. Last time I was going into full anaphylaxis, that was exactly what I said as I tried to argue against going to the hospital. My lungs were closing up, but I had things to accomplish still. I didn't have time to die. Granted, most people don't have time to go to the hospital. Alas.

So my dominant hand has been somewhat out of commission. It heavily bandaged and is sore and vastly inconvenient, but I can kind of type and can get a few minutes of writing in, but the idea of sitting through two classes with a massive amount of note-taking seems unbelievably daunting. After a weird appointment with my rheumatologist that ended in a referral to Seattle, my mother telling me for weeks that two classes was just too much, and my friend gently suggesting that I need to chill, I took the hand accident as a sign from the universe that maybe they're right. I dropped a class. Gonna start slow. I'm not necessarily good at taking it easy, but I need to if I want to make it to 30. So this is new. And strange. And tiring even before I begin.

Here's to the next phase. May it be kinder than the last one.