At my husband's suggestion, I emailed one of my professors today to learn more about his class before the semester starts, in case another class might be a better fit. That was a scary set of emails and syllabus to read over. I had a mild panic attack when I read about the professor's expectations for the class and the amount of work for it.
*I-can't-do-this*I'm-so-not-ready-for-this*Only-really-smart-people-like-my-husband-are-cut-out-for-this-class*He-wants-us-to-do-what??*How-will-I-ever-graduate*Are-there-really-no-better-options*Isn't-there-a-less-painful-way-to-do-this*How-on-earth-have-I-made-it-this-far-through-school*Help-I'm-scared-and-don't-know-what-to-do-or-where-to-run-away-to*
It makes me want to throw my hands up and say, "You win! I'm a faker who managed to pretend to everyone, myself included, that I was smart and good at school, but you caught me! I can't really do this, and I should just quit now." Thankfully, my husband is a gentle, patient comforter who helps me relax and believes that I really can do everything he can in school. He believes that even if I can't do it now, I can get there eventually.
I don't know whether to believe him sometimes, but I know I should. So I'll try to stop panicking and take extra steps to cover my back and hope that things go well. What I'm sure I need most is to sincerely get down on my knees and pray my heart out, then ready my hands to go to work. Can I write an interesting, well-researched 30-page paper on a religious studies topic and get it on the road to publication in a single semester? God only knows, and I'm too afraid to try yet.
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