Today's laugh: National language
Today's song: M - Les Triplettes de Belleville
Heh...'tis the season for scholastic episodes. Since I'm already beginning to see it around me, I feel compelled to share my own master's initiation occurring around 3am this morning.
I'll admit it's uncharacteristically early for me in the semester, but I think the name change in particular exasperated my usual Chicken Little anxiety in an unfortunate backlash. Already working on only two hours of sleep from the night before, I unintentionally found myself in the wee morning sitting on the floor and surrounded by paperwork. Legal documentation forms; name change certificates; term paper rewrites; academic texts; paperwork notarized and yet to be; numerous copies of birth certificate, social security card, and driver's license, both certified and photocopied; alternate forms of identification; bank statements; my lease; loan disbursement notifications; a gender change form; stationery equipment; lists of dates and fees and individualized protocol; standard homework; and somewhere amongst all of it I was simultaneously trying to write the advertisement for my apartment in the preparations of moving. Then suddenly my brain stopped and I sat there staring at it all. I couldn't even articulate to myself that I simply felt overwhelmed. I soon after organized a few last piles and tried to go to sleep.
It's my own fault, ultimately. After all my preparations, I truly believed the name change would take a couple of weeks as opposed to over two months. My original plan had been to focus the remainder of my summer on it so that I could then dedicate myself to school. Whoops.
My imposter syndrome has been eating at me lately, rearing after my acceptance to graduate schools back in April until actually starting courses, and this now kicked me right over. It's oddly helpful, however, to know I'm not the only one like this. I've heard from a few peers thoughts and feelings that coincide with the above, so I like knowing I'm not the only one that believes they're a little kid in Daddy's shoes. I want to say that misery loves company, but I don't believe that's quite right in this situation.
Now that it's official, I can finally mention that I received a TA position for next semester. I'm quite happy about this, but again my anxiety runs it over. I am wholeheartedly in the dark about the acceptance of 100-level philosophy students at Simmons, though if they're at all like those at my undergrad college, I have a lot to worry about. Hormonal change is a private matter for most, and yet it can't help but be displayed in front of everyone. I believe the contexts are different in cases such as mine; we're late-blooming, isolated from the pack, and automatically subject to opinion. (As if my puberty has anything to do with your approval. Did yours?) I also don't like feeling forced to out myself in order to, even worse, ask for common respect and dignity. It's not as if I plan a stealth life, but there's a big difference between outing oneself by choice as opposed to pressurized necessity. But I freely chose to TA; I really wanted to and still do. I'm also freely choosing, to a certain degree, to go ahead with my hormone timeline as I've planned. I shall get through it, just like anything else. (I'm a martyr today.) It is, as my therapist regally said, "one of those ****ing life lessons."
The earlier I continue to get in practice, the better. Reality is reality, but I'm also not about to alter important, positive, life-altering things for me just because of some provisional negativities that may not even happen.