The degree will not be official until May, but I've just completed my very last school assignment. This means... I. AM. DONE. Done!!!!! My apologies to everyone who already saw this at Facebook, but such momentous news must be posted on wmtc!
I am honestly unable to express my joy and relief at finishing school. I sometimes wonder if I'm making a big fuss over something quite common, something people do every day. Then again, if people do return to school after nearly 30 years and pilot through a complete career change in their early 50s, every day, then good on them, because it isn't easy.
I had a ton of help. The support and encouragement from friends - in person, on wmtc, on Facebook, or all three - helped so much. People did amazing things for me, like a Campaign friend who gave me a key to her house near campus and insisted I use her spare bedroom for a lie-down anytime I wanted. For my first two years of school, that rest and re-charge let me continue to attend WRSC meetings; I couldn't have done it otherwise. (After that, library work or night classes made meetings impossible.)
The incredible generosity of my sister and brother-in-law, two of my greatest friends and supporters, made it possible for me to graduate without debt, and eventually to leave my well-paid but crappy job and focus on library work. Is that amazing or what?
Above all, this journey was all about teamwork. Allan took on so many extra chores and errands and tasks, to free my time for school, in addition to helping me through all my anxiety and obsessions and frustrations. And he did it all gracefully, without complaint. Those who know him should find that hard to believe! Allan? Without complaint?! Yes, it's true. He took it all in stride. We've actually had a lot of fun and laughs getting through this. Also a lot of wine and quite a few Klonopin.
When I was a little girl, just as I started grade school, my mother went back to school to complete her university degree, and some years later, started teaching. After that, she returned to school again for her Master's degree. My father was supportive in public, but spiteful and demanding in private, plus my mother had three children. We were all charged with helping out more at home, and my older sister was recruited to make sure we didn't starve. (God forbid my father would have made us dinner.) I was always proud of my mother's accomplishments, but these past four years have made me appreciate them on an entirely different scale.