I was completely overwhelmed by grad school. The commute and my one day a week schedule had me feeling so disconnected. But mostly, I had just had this utopian idea of what grad school would be. I knew that it would be challenging and I welcomed that. But I envisioned small seminars with students engaged in lively discussions, picking apart texts and challenging each other's ideas. Sometimes this happens, but it is so rare that I am stunned. Apathy abounds even in grad school. It's just the same crap as undergrad with more reading and longer papers. Top that with the fact that grad school sucks every tiny bit of confidence out of you and I was a mess.

I loved my Jane Austen course. I even had a decent thesis for my final project. And then I froze. I couldn't finish the project. I was just completely blocked.

The prof gave me an extension but the project turned into a terrible cycle of perfectionism and procrastination. The later it got, the more perfect I thought it needed to be and the more I put it off.

Finally, I knew that I had waited too long. I made no excuses. My profs really didn't need to know what was going on in my personal life (see? I didn't just refrain from blogging, I didn't tell the "real world" either). I just figured that I would accept the results and move forward.

Then this semester. More disappointment. One decent class and one nightmare. And one morning last week I stayed in bed and thought, "I just don't want to do this any more. I just don't think I can." But I dragged my ass in to class, carefully avoiding any confrontation with my previous prof and trudged on.

This week, at the conference, I looked across the room and there she was and I knew that I would have to own up to my screw ups. My stomach lurched. She walked over and I tried to just make small talk but she grabbed my arm and said, "You can still turn in that paper you know. It was good and a very workable idea. Take the summer. Take your time. Sometimes these things happen and I don't want you to give up." In fact, she wants me to change time periods to 18th century.

I could have cried. At some point I think I may have. But you know what else really helped? Reading other grad students' blogs. Reading that they felt as frustrated and inadequate, at times, as I was feeling. Knowing that I wasn't the only one that doubted if I was good enough or smart enough. I am not feeling sorry for myself. There are days when I know exactly where I stand but grad school can make you doubt yourself.

So, I am staying. Because in the end it's the only thing I want to do. And hell, with my undergrad degrees, what else am I qualified to do? So I am going to get through this semester and spend the summer with Austen and that's not too bad.