A new year, a new school semester for me. I’m trying to break a record for taking the longest time ever to finish a Masters’ Degree.
I wanted to finish before I was 40, but clearly that’s not going to happen.
However, I am nervous about this semester. I am retaking a class that I failed this time of year back in 2012. I didn’t fail it because I didn’t do well in the work. I failed it because the class triggered one of the worst depressive episodes of my life and I dropped the course 75% of the way through.
Needless to say, Jeff is not super thrilled about this semester either. His worry is palpable and real. He knows neither one of us can handle me going off the deep end again, especially since we lack the family and friend support that we had back home.
So, we enter this semester with fear and trembling, but also with hope and trust that it will be OK.