In September, I have a place on a course at Goldsmith’s. I’ve mentioned it on here before, I think. Basically it is an M.A. called Writer/ Teacher, on which you hone your Creative Writing skills while taking education modules to enable you to teach creative writing to others. I think it sounds great and, while not a PhD as planned, might really suit me.
Other people think I should give myself a break from stress. That if this M.A. has stressed me out to the point that it has, maybe rushing into another is a bad idea. That maybe I should take some time out, claim benefits, volunteer, or take a less stressful job. I don’t think I can afford to do those things, financially or mentally. After my degree I spent two years semi-unemployed (16 hours a week as a pub toilet cleaner). I spent those years so unhappy. Granted, there are jobs that cause less distress than pulling a Scottish Highers textbook out of a dirty loo, but I think most jobs are pretty stressful. I would rather be getting stressed out doing something I love, than getting semi-stressed over something I hate.
As I have mentioned before, being ill has made me more determined to do well. And I feel a determination not to let any more of my life be spoiled by this. If I lie back and let it, it will claim me. I can’t be claimed. I need to do and be the things I want and I can’t do those things living in fear of the Demon Stress. Life is stressful. I can’t avoid life on the off-chance it stresses me out a bit. Can I?
Still, I’m doubting myself. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m destined for the Jobcentre and Oxfam. There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s just not what I wanted my life to be like.