A count-your-blessings moment

This morning, I was filling out paperwork for tuition reimbursement for a class I would like to take in the fall. Professional Writing in the Sciences is the first course in an online master’s program in biomedical writing, and my modest workplace reimbursement would cover it. JG and I figured that I should just take the class, get it reimbursed with my 2008 funds, and then decide if I wanted to pursue the program. Feeling very competent with all of my ducks in a row, I downloaded the forms from the intranet and began the process.

Then I realized that I was not on top of things. Much to my chagrin, the tuition cost per credit had increased since I did my initial calculations, so this first trial class would not be fully covered. I had wrongly assumed that I only needed to complete twelve classes for this program instead of the sixteen that were required, which meant that I would be taking courses for an additional year. Furthermore, my boss informed me that, though not explicitly stated in the policy, the reimbursement amount was subject to taxes, so I would not receive the full amount.

When I plugged these new factors into my spreadsheet of costs, the effect was dizzying. I would have to pay that much to get a graduate degree for that long? Even with the tuition benefit from work, we would have to go much deeper into debt than I had originally thought, and I suddenly wondered if taking out a loan for sheer self-improvement was really wise. An advanced degree might render monetary returns, but there was no guarantee. Plus, we’ve been saving for various other things (a big vacation, a kitchen renovation), and the size of the necessary loan dwarfed these other expenses. Did I really want to commit myself to five years of part-time classes and a huge loan only to be back on the job market and uncertain? Call it sticker shock or reality, but it was hardly a fair trade. I e-mailed JG with my new information and misgivings about the plan, saying that I felt very defeated.

I had reached a level of panic of record intensity, at least in recent memory. Outwardly, one may not have observed much stress, but my breath quickened, and my hands were trembling. Anxious statements circled inside my brain, each egging the other on, and as much as I knew that I should get off that line of thinking, I could not dislodge myself. It was too important, too heavy, too immediate.

I was chatting with OPH at the time, and I instinctively started to spew my stress into the chat box. She talked me down from the ledge, and we commiserated over our respective struggles. Despite the cathartic venting, I still felt like there was a gray cloud of my head, and I typed resolutely, “This is a count your blessings day for me.”

And so, I did.

• I had a great lunch of leftover chicken cacciatore.
• Last night, I finished a really hard climb that has been taunting me for three months.
• I have a low-stress workload right now.
• Our evenings are empty for the rest of the week.
• I am taking Friday off.
• I visit my sister just ten days!
• So far, I’m enjoying the book I’m reading.
• Ted and I had a peaceful, uneventful walk this morning.
• At my request, JG agreed to make ribs for dinner, and we’re having them tomorrow night! My contribution is corn bread.

This type of exercise is very unnatural to me; one of my greatest character flaws is that I automatically seek out the negative in order to fix it. It’s also one of the things that makes me good at my job, but what do you know? Cheesy platitudes about positive thinking aside, I felt better in spite of myself.

Later, JG and I talked about my e-mail, and his suggestions were simple: try out the first class to see if I like it; wait until halfway through to decide about the program as a whole; and investigate financial aid. If nothing else, I still had reimbursement money for the 2008 calendar year, so it would be better to use it rather than postponing the course indefinitely. Maybe talking to a financial advisor would help to quell my anxiety. Yes, that all made sense. Forming a plan of action made the situation seem much less desperate. Deep breath. Carry on.