The weather has officially turned. It’s spring, most assuredly. We are sleeping with windows open, our magnolia tree is nothing short of spectacular, coats are all tucked away in the closet rather than on the coat rack, and last night we ate dinner outside on the deck. Time is flying at high speed towards the end of the school year for the kids and the start of my return to school.

My first class, Communications 101: Introduction to Mass Media, starts in just a couple of weeks (May 28th). Yesterday, I spent some time trying to get into the habit of checking my student email and learning about the online platform where my class will be hosted. I sent emails about orientation and class advisement too. I also decided to pay my tuition for the semester.

Oh what an unexpected, emotional, and quite physical reaction I had to that.

As soon as I typed in my credit card information and hit submit payment, I was completely washed over with fear. I was holding back hard against tears at the corners of my eyes, I felt my heart rate quicken, and I just wanted to throw up. Even as I type this and try to think of how I want to explain my thoughts/feelings, nerves have my hands wringing.

Sending in that payment yesterday made the act of returning to school feel all the realer and it brought to the surface a moment of vulnerability that I truly wasn’t excepting.

Can I do this? What if I’m not smart anymore? What if it’s all over my head? What if I suck at writing papers? What if I make a fool of myself?

Not to mention the financial side… I’m struggling with the guilt of spending/investing so much in myself when Jacob needs braces and Ron’s job is always in jeopardy and and and…

I called Ron yesterday when all these feelings were causing my heart and stomach to flutter. I could hear his smirking smile on the other end of the line, his knowing. He did as he always does, with his constant sense of logic and practicality, he assured me this is all going to be a breeze and that I’m beyond capable. I think that is one way we balance each other. I’m all emotion, he is all logic. He spoke to the part of my brain that knows better than my racing heart.

So, I know, I know, this is the right thing to be doing.

Still fluttering though, I also sought comfort with my dearest college professor friend, Lindsey. (We journal text so much she and I.) She had just the reminder needed, and as soon as I read her word… really, my word… with a deep sigh I let it go. She said…

“Being a flutter is a good thing. You CARE. ”

YES!!

I care. I care so much… about learning and growing… about my family and their needs… about acceptance and excelling… and, about knowing and not knowing.

I knew care would be the right word for me this year, but I don’t think I knew just how right.

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