While I chip away at the last week of class, I find that this semester has effectively tested my ability answer the question “Why am I putting myself through this?” As I sit here and write this, my head is screaming from sleep deprivation, my chest is filled with anxiety for my future, and my heart is striving to find any ounce of morale the semester has left to offer. So, why am I doing this? Why do take on so much to the point of utter exhaustion?
Education is my source of self-worth
If I am not learning, I am wasting my time. This world contains an obscene amount of knowledge, and every time I open a book I am humbled. Think about how much information is in one book. You are entering a new world every time you read. As a human being, it is my responsibility to culture my mind, and as stressful as it is, my self-respect increases with each world I visit.
Despite how I feel at this moment, ignorance isn’t bliss
I will admit that the more I learn, the more fearful I am. As I study what it means to be human, I constantly question if there are such things as universal truths. Despite this, the moments when I truly feel enlightened make the doubt fade away. For those few minutes, I am at one with the world. As conceited as it sounds, I become the universe—I become the universal truth.
Having a PhD. is my only option—I refuse to settle for less
For those who know me, if I am going to do something, I am going to the top. And I will do it while carrying a 50lb pound backpack. I am addicted to knowledge. Is there a better way to satisfy it?
I couldn’t survive without academic writing
It sounds super nerdy, I know, but it’s true. Why would I read so much literature and just ponder? I want to argue about it. I want to take each line and dissect it to the point where I could write a book about one poem. I want my interpretation to have credibility—to have an impact. I can’t do that if I’m sipping tea and talking about Emily Dickenson with my dogs.
And sharing those skills reminds me of why I am here
When I work at my school’s Writing Center, I am filled with so much purpose. Watching someone finally develop an idea or discover why their thoughts matter is the most fulfilling experience. I have the opportunity to show others that what they say is beautiful—it’s just a matter of how you write it down.
Stress is inevitable, so I might as well stress over what I love
If I’m going to stress about my work, it’s going to be a project on Benjamin Franklin. If I am going to get two hours of sleep, it’s going to be because I stayed up writing about the Tudors. When I am about to fall asleep and I ask myself “Why am I doing this,” I am going to remember how beautiful it feels when someone finally realizes their words matter. It makes the migraine worth it.
