My classes started a few days ago and I was pleasantly surprised. All of this time I've been thinking — or rather, stressing out — that I may have gotten in over my head. "Taking 12 credits over the summer is highly ambitious," said the advisor. "Are you sure you're going to be able to fit it all in?" she asked.

I have a tendency to do that. I get excited about something and really overload myself. I like to get a jump on things. I like to finish first.

These classes are going to be relatively easy, though. The professors are really great, the coursework is interesting to me, and now, I'm really excited.

I was talking to a new friend about Adrian yesterday. I told her how looking back, I don't know how I've done what I've done so far.

It seems almost unbelievable to me now that I gave birth, took care of an infant, moved around and have been working full time, all by myself. I don't know how I did it. I do know that now, as a result, I am a coffee addict. But hey, whatever gets you through, right?

But the truth is, I do know how I did it. I wanted to do it.

As if I didn't have enough going on already, I decided to add more to my plate. Something major.

I've decided to go to school. I've wanted to learn cinematography and film production for quite some time, and now I'm finally going to do it.

I stumbled across the program a few months ago while doing some research on the Internet. Of course, like anything of its kind, it's pretty expensive. However, they had some information on the site pertaining to grants and other sources of financial aid so I decided to go for it, and I applied.

It was a daunting application complete with questions like "Why should we give this money to you?" and "Explain your commitment and desire to be in the film program." The last question was an essay. I did the best that I could — it took me all day — and sent it on it's way. I didn't get my hopes up, though.

So I was shocked when I received the letter that I had been selected for not one, but two grants. They cover the cost of attendance and then some. I'm also taking out a few student loans so that I can spend more time focusing on this.

I enrolled in the accelerated summer program, so that I can start earlier, cram a bunch in, therefore finishing quicker. I always have enjoyed moving fast.

This is going to be great. It's going to give me something to focus on, something more important than Levi and all of his bullshit. There are some fabulous classes that are going to provide me with excellent opportunities for creativity. And I'm going to learn how to do something that I know that I will love doing.

Classes start May 19. I can't tell you how excited I am to finally be doing something good for myself.

Tonight is hard.

Everything is wrong this week. Students have been difficult. I'm fighting with Jake over e-mail. I'm overthinking things with The Boy like I haven't in a while. I haven't slept. I feel empty and exhausted and alone and utterly miserable.

So I'm sitting here in this chair and crying in my empty living room, and what feels the worst is that I am here alone. It's just me. There's no one to hug me, or make me a cup of tea, or just be a presence in the vast and echoing void that is this Friday.

What makes it worse is that, at the same time that it's horrible to be alone, I don't want the alternative. I don't want what I had with Jake back — he was lousy with the hugs and the tea-making anyway. And I'm reasonably certain I don't want anyone else here: I know, for sure, that I don't want to live with anyone. I don't want a roommate. I don't want a partner to move in. I don't even know that I'm ready to be in a same-city relationship.

So how do I reconcile this horrifying loneliness, this feeling of, I am here, in this chair, and there is no one here with me, this wishing someone shared this space and was with me, with all of that I feel in less exhausted and weepy moments?

I would like to sit here and cry without the additional cognitive dissonance.

After I moved out of a very abusive relationship, I realized I didn't know who I was. I stood in a shitbox apartment with thin walls and small rooms, and I thought of everything I used to be and what I was now.

I was nothing. I was hollow. I was worn down and tired out, and I felt ugly and undesirable. Toss in being fully responsible for a teen and a toddler, and I felt ... well, like a mom. Not a person. Not Julie.

Who was Julie? For almost 10 years, my partner told me what I was stupid, slow, naïve, useless, unthinking, and uncaring. I'd been told those things long enough that I almost believed them. I had no hobbies and no friends. Those weren't permitted. I had no support system. I barely had a job, too. Earning money was a no-no.

But now I was free. The opportunities of relearning who I was were amazing. I could do anything! No one would complain or criticize or tell me that I wasn't allowed. No one controlled my future but me.

So I didn't wallow and cry. I didn't feel miserable. I felt very unsure at times, like a child learning to walk, and I felt a little scared at having to take my own decisions - but take them I could. I took up old activities I used to enjoy, like horseback riding, knitting and doing laps at the local skating arena. I learned new hobbies, like playing guitar. I changed jobs and became a freelance writer. I bought books to read and I slowly — very slowly — saved up money to buy pieces of furniture that fit my preferred décor.

It still strikes me how lucky I was to not have to live up to anyone's expectations. I could start over, completely and freely. Life was a buffet, and I could taste whatever I wanted. I could choose my preferences and fill up my empty plate. It's a little ironic that sometimes, the hardest events to go through are the ones that bring the best opportunities.

Monday is a huge day for me. I'll be starting a program that will allow me to complete my Bachelor's Degree in Education with a specialization in English. While I am technically teaching in this field already, I want to focus my efforts on teaching a younger crowd.

I love engaging in the smiles of children and interacting with them. I work closely with my church nursery and this experience has allowed me to recognize in myself what I want most — to work with children.

I was homeschooling for three years, and this was probably one of the greatest achievements I have accomplished. I was in charge of the early elementary aged students and all activities associated with the local homeschooling organization. I loved it. I received tremendous feedback and the outreach of this effort was an incredible experience for me. This is something I don't have in my current position, and I realize that I need the reciprocation of others to enjoy the work I do.

So, while I've researched and planned and prepared for the schooling process, I officially embark on this journey on Monday. I'm excited and scared. I am dedicated though, and know I will work hard so that I can do well. I jumped in with the understanding that the time is now. I also hoped that by working towards a goal of mine, I would be less burdened by my divorce and legal muck.

I am taking a huge leap of faith. I hope everyone has the courage to do so, for themselves.

At the start of each year, I always sit and reflect. I take special note of what my expectations are for myself for the coming year, or things I resolve to work on that will help me get to those goals. I do this for my children as well - things I'd like to help them work on throughout the year. This was especially helpful while teaching them. Writing down my goals gives me great focus and a great sense of joy once those goals are accomplished.

My divorce will continue in 2008, hopefully wrapping up by this time next year (please?). While I don't have any control over this facet of my life, I'd like to consider that a door is closing. And where one door closes another opens.

I feel a door that has opened for me is enrolling in a program to finish my bachelor's degree in education. I loved working so closely with my homeschooling group, and out of everything in my life that has changed, I truly miss them the most. I miss the exposure to the kids, having fun with them and teaching them. I aspire to finish my education so that I can get back on the track of inspiring other children and parents. I love the outreach involved in working with young kids, and I'm ready to dive in to this passion.

I think for me, one goal at a time is going to have to be substantial. While my goal to finish schooling won't be finished in 2008, I have high hopes and ambition for the day when I can cross off this accomplishment from my list. Time flies, and I plan to make the most of this experience - which is what really counts, right?