I’ve never been a patient person. Time drags at me like sandpaper over the skin, and I want to get up and push and push until things start moving, even if they move in the wrong direction. I don’t like to wait. I don’t like to not know what comes next.
And so, the enforced waiting for responses from PhD programs makes me crazy.
I love and am happy for my friends who are getting responses, and I wonder what’s wrong that I’m not.
I agonize over the rejections I’ve already gotten, but at least I know for those schools. Two no votes, five unknowns. Five potentials. Five schools in Schrodinger’s box. Am I alive, or dead? No, I’m waiting.
Some friends have acceptances, and I am so very pleased for them. Some have interviews, and I am happy and nervous on their behalf. I have…this low rolling pit of anxiety, making me want to push and push and step on the metaphorical gas with all my might.
Hard to believe that in a few months, this part will all be over. I won’t wish the time away. But I really hate waiting.