
“Tell me, what is it you plan to do/ with your one wild and precious life?” ~Mary Oliver
I was always the child with armfuls of books and big dreams. I wanted to be a writer. When the limit at the local library was six books, I borrowed all six, and then talked my sister into letting me borrow some of her weekly ration.
While I had many friends, most lived several minutes away, and public transportation wasn’t available. When I couldn’t arrange a sleepover, my sibling and my books were ever at the ready to play school.
My parents were not academics, but they heartily encouraged my own goals, which always included a clear objective: college. Step-by-step, from AP English courses, SAT preparation, catalogue perusing, and campus visits to placement testing, that long-held goal became a reality.
My life burgeoned with canvas backpacks of Brit lit, philosophy, and cultural anthropology texts; club meetings; and hours hunkered in the campus newspaper office, ordering pizza at 10pm and pulling all-nighters with fellow staff writers to make morning deadlines.
While I knew upon graduation that I would ultimately go back to school for a masters, first I’d chip away at student loans and work first jobs for the resume notches. As one year post-graduation stretched into four, then five, the time had arrived for my return to backpacks, midnight study sessions, and heady discussions unraveling literary criticism.
So I brushed up with a borrowed GRE workbook, made campus visits, and applied to my favorite. I was going back to school!
Grad school proved to be an extension of my childhood dream—hanging out at the university watering-hole discussing line edits and narrative structure, and drafting my thesis manuscript before the hopes of agent shopping.
This time, I had become that writer with not one diploma but now two for my wall! Never mind that I had little practical notion of what followed, beyond another day and a student loan.
The years since walking across that stage to the cheers of fellow literary friends and family have proven a challenge intellectually and spiritually. There have been times I’ve felt unmoored.
How, I’ve frequently wondered, can I make this life worthwhile without the focus of school, where I’ve always fit in best? What will motivate me now—workaday Mondays and my five-figure debt balance? Hardly.
How can I lead a life of fulfillment again when many days feel without a center or a greater purpose?
Maybe you can relate to feeling a loss of purpose, and it doesn’t have to be the end of school. It might be that you’ve just lost a job, or your children might have just left home for college and you’re unsure how to proceed with your newfound empty nest. Or maybe you’ve earned the promotion you’ve worked toward for years, and keep wondering how you’re going to top that success. (more…)