To beginnings, as well as to the end

My last day of class was yesterday. I am relieved about all the pressure that has been lifted suddenly (though I am still finishing up an essay and have one more assignment to post - both of these things are enjoyable for me). 

I've decided to take a 6 month hiatus from school.  This decision feels good, but it also makes me slightly nervous. I know I will go back for more; having the degree is too important to me not to go. I also know it doesn't matter how long it takes. I'm only 23 years old, I have the rest of my life to learn, but the critic is whispering that even though it feels good, it's bad.  It's not good enough, it's what quitters do. I'm a fool for giving up - I should stay in school until I get good at it. 

She also tells me that I won't actually do the writing that I want to do for myself over the next several months - she's setting me up to feel guilty for something new. My life wouldn't seem to be complete without overwhelming guilt about something.

My compulsions have their own compulsions and if left unsupervised, I'm likely to eat the entire house down, so I'm packing up my stuff and heading to Goblin Valley with some of my people. I hope the time away will help me figure what I'm actually eating, because it's not just a bag of potato chips.

The interesting thing is that this doesn't feel like the pit. It feels like I'm on the surface and a storm is raging on over my head. I've been really angry on and off for the last few days. Angry about food, angry about my childhood,  angry. It's kind of nice to not be sad anymore. I feel like in my life I've been served some emotional injustices and I'm SO GLAD to see that they weren't my fault.