My Why

I won’t lie: this doctoral thing is kicking my ass.

The 3-6 hours of work and reading is more like 15-20, and I don’t do anything nearly as quickly as I used to. Fortunately I have plenty of PTO left to flex around whatever I need to get done. Hubby has stepped in and is picking up my slack in an amazing way (the boys need to do better). The encouragement from, well, everyone, keeps me going.

Probably the single best thing about the huge demand this pursuit has on my time and attention is that I have much less time to fret about whatever Elder is or isn’t doing. And because I am (openly) fretting less, he’s more inclined to talk to me on our rides up and down 309.

So yesterday evening he asked why. Why am I knowingly torturing myself (if not his exact words, he’s got the spirit of it)? This after meeting someone from his past life, which summoned up all the memories of the single worst year of our lives (although he claims to have no memory of any of it—I know better).

I’m driving, signaling as I head to the off-ramp, tears streaming down my face. “I’ll tell you why. I want to burn shit to the ground for what happened to you. I’m channeling my divine rage so I can change the world.”

He sat there and blinked, nonplussed, my literal guy no doubt picturing me in war paint with a torch. “But what will you DO when you’re done?”

I shrugged. My whole life has been accidental and incidental; I just land wherever I need to be. What will I do, indeed?

“If I end up teaching, I can change minds,” I finally answered. “And if I can change minds, I can change futures.”

He was quiet. 

Later I listened him on a Zoom call with his classmates for a group project. His voice shook, but he assumed a leadership role, asking question, laying out responsibilities, and pretty much sounding like the rest of the group on the call.

I wonder how my words landed.

Maybe the mind shift begins at home.