I’ve spent the past five days in a state of angst:
Who will I be when I grow up? (though really, at 28, shouldn’t I be grown?)
Will I be happy with the career choices I have made?
Did I make the choices I did purely because K made them, and I wanted in some way to feel as valuable and important as her?
The end result of all the angsting is that I probably wouldn’t be happy as a therapist. Don’t get me wrong. I’d be a DAMN good therapist. But would I be a happy one? Knowing I could be writing?
I don’t think I could.
So I’m working on a plan to change these things. More writing. DEFINITELY more revising. And perhaps a BFA in creative writing is in my future.
Genre Impaired 
If you’re supposed to be fully grown at 28, than I am really in trouble!! And the great thing about choices–there will always be more to come.
Love the new look!
And thanks for saying I’m valuable and important. I feel the same way about you, no matter what path you choose.
hey renee,
thanks for taking the time to read my essay about my mom’s death. i’m glad it helped, perhaps even inspired you, in that moment of “angst.” we all go through uncertain times–it’s part of life, but at least it seems you are asking yourself the right questions, which in time will get you to where you were meant to go. best wishes to you while you make your way along “the journey.” (and if it’s any consolation to you, there was an 81-year-old in my MFA program, so it’s not too late.)