On being a worry wart

Sometimes I wonder how I didn’t see myself as a librarian until someone pointed it out. I’ve found through my readings on librarian blogs, that I already think like a librarian. In fact, I already worry like a library science student, too. I know this thanks to a post from the Hack Library School archives.

Back in June 2011, Alyssa Vincent, a second-year library science student at the time, shared a post entitled How I Learned to Keep Worrying and Love Library School. Boy, did I ever find this post at the opportune moment.

A couple of days after I signed the promissary note on my first graduate school loan, I panicked. What was I doing throwing away a decade of work on a whim? And racking up a sizeable chunk of new student loans before my undergraduate loans were fully paid off? What the heck is wrong with me?

And then, by some twist of fate, I was zooming through the archives of one of my (now) favorite blogs when I happened upon Vincent’s post. I was nodding and agreeing (out loud in an empty room) to everything she wrote:

But nearly every student—even the one who can’t stop foaming at the mouth over becoming a member of the American Library Association and speaks in acronyms—will at some point question their commitment to school and the profession.

I mean, I haven’t even started the program and I was already too stressed to sleep. But then, I also woke up at 4 a.m. three days after adopting a 1-year-old terror of a puppy, convinced that it was a terrible decision and that we had to return him. Thankfully my husband talked me down and my now three-year-old puppy (yes, he’s still a puppy) is making my life better everyday. But everyone worries, and we should. I mean, a decision isn’t worth it if it doesn’t wake you up in the middle of REM sleep with night terrors, right? As Vincent puts it:

The best and most meaningful decisions we make have the most emotional baggage attached to them.

In other words, the greater the leap, the greater the reward. But sometimes it’s nice to have the reality check to remind me that I’m not the only crazy person in the room. Of course, since the particular room I’m typing this in is empty, maybe I am. And I’m okay with that.

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