Four and a half years ago, I dropped out of Yale Divinity School. This was not a decision I entered into lightly, but at the time I felt as though I had few options. I was failing at least one of my classes, for starters, but this was because of a whole bunch of other stuff that was happening at the time.
The fact is, I was miserable in New Haven almost from the moment I stepped foot in the town. I had moved there with my boyfriend at the time, and our long-standing relationship troubles came to a boil rather quickly, and within two months we were broken up. I was working 25 hours a week at a local bank, and he at a work-study job at his school in Hartford, though his income was really just enough to pay for his gas. We got into debt, and we were both too busy to find new places to live, and so there we found ourselves stuck: living together, not particularly fond of each other, a lot of awkwardness. I found it almost impossible to care about my studies, and my work began to suffer tremendously. It’s not that the classes were that much harder than anything I had done at Wake Forest, it’s just that, every night when I sat down to read, or study, or write a paper, I just DID.NOT.CARE.
Then, I fell through a window, and I threw my hands up and gave up. I took a medial/psychological leave – which expired in January 2005 – and put my apartment up for sublet. Once it was rented, I was gone like a flash. I came home to Oklahoma, because I felt I had nowhere else to go.
At the end of this month I am sending a fairly large check to pay off the very last of the debt I incurred in New Haven, and after all this time, I feel like that period of my life is truly, finally behind me.
I don’t regret leaving Yale, mainly because regretting it would be completely pointless. I can’t change it. I do think that, more so than at any time in my life, that was a period when I was sorely in need of some kind of outside perspective, and I didn’t get it, because when I am that depressed I turn inward – or, I used to. I’ve learned my lesson.
Today at work I was searching through some other universities’ websites to see if I could find an example of a piece I was trying to write, and I came across Harvard Divinity School. My honors adviser from Wake Forest had offered, after I left Yale, to make the necessary calls and get me in at Harvard Div, but at the time I was so burnt out on school, and clinging desperately to a place where I knew people – home – that I turned him down on the offer. Today, looking at that website, I started to berate myself over this decision.
Which is dumb. I’m happy in my life here. I like where and who I am now, but a fundamental part of who I am is that I fear that someday I will look back and despair that I could have become more than I am. It is actually my greatest fear in life, which is horrible when you’re as lazy as I am. I printed out the Harvard Div application; it’s in my bag. All likelihood: I’ll throw it out. When I told Brian about it he was so gracious, so brave: "If you want to go to Harvard, then to Harvard you shall go. We’ll move to Boston right now."
I love him so much, and I definitely do not deserve him.
So, this is where I need your help, gentle readers. I am making myself a promise. I am not going to think about more school until May, when I will finish my MPW degree and embark on a career as a professional writer (which will probably involve a lot of P.R. work at first, hopefully in the same place I’m in now). Once I find a secure job, I’m going to figure out exactly how long it will take me to pay off my significant student debt from Wake Forest. The other thing I am going to do once my master’s degree is over is give some serious, serious thought and prayer to whether or not I am ready for more school. But not until May, and possibly June, but most likely July.
You get the point.
Help me keep this promise, my wonderful 2-3 readers. Right now I think I might not have a lot of school left in me; another part of me knows that school is all I have ever really done, ever really enjoyed, and something I cannot just write off because of a less-than-wonderful experience at the University of Oklahoma. Right now my instinct is to sit down TONIGHT with all this paperwork and really think this business all the way to death, but I know this would be both counterproductive and unhealthy. Instead, I’m going to think about what to make at this weekend’s family dinner and how to be a better student in my current program, a better husband to Brian, and a better follower of the Spirit. I give myself five minutes, which, for me, is a lot.
