|photo by Sergey Nivens via Adobe Stock|
The hours spent meeting and talking with other writers. The workshops that inspired me to go after my dream. The buzz of adrenaline that ran through my veins when I thought, "I can do this! I can be a writer!" All of it was wonderful. I was excited to be back at school, even for just a day. Walking the halls of that fine institution felt so right. I wanted to stay there, to be a part of it everyday. For years.
When reality hit on Monday morning I felt deflated, forlorn, a fraud when I had to put away my work-in-progress to attend to the needs of my patients. Second thoughts about my career choices hounded me: