A season of waiting

Waiting is one of the most anxiety inducing phases in life. The bad news is we’re always waiting. We wait for the day to end, for plants to grow, for friendships to blossom. We’re in a perpetual state of waiting that at some point we forget what we have in the moment.

At the end of last year, I left MIT campus with hopes to return a changed mentally stable human. I had gone through one of the hardest semesters, even though I’d only been there for a little over a year. Walking away felt eerie and deep inside I didn’t want to leave. However, I needed to.

Fast forward, 7 months later; I have worked on what had sent me home. I’ve avoided any major crisis and maintained a stable mental state. I went to all my appointment and started taking classes. All this mainly thanks to my ingenuity and courage but also due to good fortune.

I’ve been waiting and hoping for a time like this to come. However the closer we get to the finish line, the harder it gets. I gave it my all, told the CAP and all the people in charge of the progress I have made and how I’m ready to come back to MIT. There is nothing I can do at this point. My hands are twitching and I’m resisting the urge to email a school dean and ask how things are going.

Last week, I talked with my therapist about how I was holding up as I waited for an answer.

I’m giddy. I can’t stop daydreaming about all the things I would do. I have pictured myself strolling along the Charles river, or speeding through the infinite corridor. Countless times I have planned outfits, thought of prepping meals on a Sunday afternoon. I dreamt of going for a swim or a run or spending time in the gym. And this has put a smile on my face.

All too soon it vanishes. I’m back home doing dishes and I mentally slap myself. I can’t allow myself to feel this good. I’ve been raised not to think too much about things I wanted lest it may go away. So I force myself to think about what would happen if the opposite of what I wanted happened- they deny my request to return.

Things would be the same way they have always been. Spend my weekdays at home doing chores, except now my sister would be in college somewhere and I’d be all alone. I would get annoyed at the little things and dream of the time past. In addition I would be stuck studying for a degree I do not care for at a less than stellar institution.

Waiting isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. It’s a series of hots and colds. One time I’m contemplating rainbows and sunlight I’ll be getting if my dreams came true, the next I’m scared shitless of what I’ll have to endure if it didn’t. To make matters worse, there’s nothing I can do about it, so I just wait. 13 days to go...