Rising to the Challenge

I know it has been over four months since my last entry and, my oh my, what has transpired in my virtual absence.  Over the last few weeks, I have begun to recognize how isolated I have been, and while writing in this blog may not create tangible bonds with other people in the same way personal interactions do, returning to writing may likely serve as an effective way to process much that has been on my mind.  It also helps that I was challenged by a former-coworker and mother-figure yesterday to begin blogging again.  As she and I visited about the goings-on in my life and all of the important life choices that I have faced in these last four months, she asserted that writing about them will help, and I believe she is correct.

My last entry described my upcoming trip to Lincoln, NE, for an interview for a museum manager position.  The week I spent in Lincoln preparing for the interview began a process that would alter my course of self-discovery, which I intended to record in this blog to begin with.  As I sat researching the historiography of tractors and agricultural implements, learned about the origins of the museum itself, and read the profiles of my interview committee (all things my friend, and current graduate student at UNL, helped me with five days prior to the interview), I felt overwhelmed and doubtful, but managed to conduct myself pretty well in the interview itself.  In fact, I was more relaxed during the interview than throughout my entire visit.  While I left with the sense that I may not have been precisely the candidate they wanted, I thought I had a very good chance of being hired.  Two and a half weeks later, when I received the generic "thank you for your interest but we selected a different candidate" email, the hard truth of my position unceremoniously slammed me to the ground.  Despite the fact that I had completed two fellowships, four internships, and an honors thesis/exhibition in public history, I was not an asset to anyone.  Museums weren't going to give my resume a second glance because I lacked a Master's Degree.    I had spent the last five years telling myself I didn't want to invest the time or money into getting a degree I didn't need.  All I needed was someone to recognize my potential, put me on the bottom rung of the ladder, and give me a chance to work my way up.  I wasn't about to disappoint them when given the opportunity to display my work ethic.  Yet, as I went about my farm work that afternoon, and spoke with my friend that evening, I was forced to confront reality - I had to go to grad school. 

I did not come to this decision lightly.  In fact, this first "come to Margaret" moment brought so much fear and doubt and critical self-reflection that it took a lot for me to accept my fate.  I spent the next several weeks weighing my options, working through a few of these reflections that were staring me in the face, and seeking counsel from my mentor and friends, some grad students and some who are also considering it.  My meeting with my mentor a few days before my birthday in mid-August confirmed my decision that, yes, grad school was the best and most necessary course of action.

So, all, I HAVE BEGUN APPLYING TO GRAD SCHOOL.  Now that I have made that decision, I am excited about the prospect.  I no longer doubt I'll be accepted.  Sure, I may not be accepted to every program I apply to (though there are only three), but I'm confident enough in myself now to believe I'll get accepted to at least one.  I'll finally receive professional training that will make me an asset for employers.  I'll be in an academic environment which, though constantly challenging, is a relatively safe zone in which I can debate and learn and grow and exchange ideas with my peers who care as much about their education as I do.  I'll have an another opportunity to reinvent myself a bit more, get out and have new experiences, make new friends, possibly start a romantic relationship, but, overall, grow as a person.  

That isn't to say I haven't been doing a whole hellava lot of growing over the last year.  Quite the opposite, in fact.  Every time I try to quantify how much I have changed and grown, I get overwhelmed and over-analytical, so I have stopped trying.  Are there a whole slew of issues that I keep discovering and have to work through?  Absolutely.  This is in large part due to caring friends who are invested in my well-being despite all the frustrations I feel when they challenge me to probe deep into the darkest parts of myself and bring these issues to light, but this is necessary for me to grow up.  I don't want to be a scared little girl anymore, worried about disappointing the people I love, defining selfishness as the act of seeking happiness for oneself, fearing total alienation from my family and friends by growing into my own person.  I've suppressed so many things about myself under the guise of putting others first that this next phase of acknowledging these concerns is proving to be excruciatingly difficult, but at least I am thinking about it, right?  Many have told me it is time to act, and I don't deny that they are correct, but my thinking about these issues IS acting.  It isn't the last step in the process, it is only the beginning, and that is the important thing.

So, will I blog everyday about all my deepest fears and darkest feelings?  Not necessarily.  There are things that I will only reserve for conversations with people I genuinely trust, not the entire world, but there will be speculative entries about this or that, and specifics of that "this or that" may not be disclosed.  Yet as I let my words flow from my fingertips, I will be continuing to think and act and formulate my next series of actions and that is enough of a reason to continue this blog again.