knowing when to fold 'em

Man, this blog could really use some fun and frivolity about now. It’s not as if I’ve been doing nothing but stressing out 24/7, although there’s been a lot of that. There’s also been
going to see Second City and drinking and board games and pigging out in front of the Super Bowl and friends walking over and having brunch, with yummy waffles and bacon and quiche, courtesy of AB’s easiest quiche recipe ever.

Except for wishing that the big day was already here and pining for beautiful beaches, I have nothing to complain about in regards to wedding planning and will not complain, because I get to marry the love of my life in a tropical paradise, boo-fucking-hoo. However glacially, we’re making progress with our caterer and he seems to be able to deliver everything we want. Sushi! Gelato! Huzzah!

But on the angst front, for the umpteenth and final time, I am considering quitting. It’s one month into my last semester of my sixth year and I still don’t have an approved prospectus. In layman terms, I’m screwed. It wouldn’t be impossible to finish up this summer, but it’s beginning to feel pretty close to it. Part of me very much wants to get the degree and part of me is ready to lay down my burdens and get off the hamster wheel, to stop pretending that I’m Ph.D material.

What is it anyway, three letters after my name? They’re not the key to happiness. Would I be disappointed at walking away with only a Master’s after six years of work and misery and debt? Yea. But I might also feel really free to get on with life.

Honestly, it feels a lot like when I made the decision to end my last relationship. I stuck with it longer than I should have because I kept thinking things would get better and that I shouldn’t give up, shouldn’t be a quitter. It took time to realize that it wasn’t being a quitter, it was making the choice to do what was best for me and extricate myself from something unhappy. And after some grieving, there was an immense feeling of liberation and relief.

Whatever decision I make, I know that Husband to Be is behind me completely (squeezing my butt, as he always says). I wish I could say the same of my dad, who I know will go ballistic if I don't finish, but what can I do? Life and family are never perfect.

Will she or won’t she? Stay tuned.