Law School: Do I Have the Stomach for It?

Warning: This post is not for the faint of heart or weak of stomach.

Today I started my fourth week of law school. I’m gonna be honest with you guys… it’s been a little rough.

More than a little rough.

A lot rough. 

Okay, I’ll just tell you: I puked at school. 

Let me explain. If you don’t want to read anything gross, revolting, or generally icky, skip down to the summarizing sentence about the struggle being real.

My body revolted to leaving kamp with drainage. My drainage revolted to moving to Austin by becoming a sinus infection. My sinus infection revolted to the first type of antibiotics by resisting them. The first type revolted to the second type by fighting for supremacy in my frail body. My frail body revolted to all of this with increased heart rate, dizzy spells, sweating, nausea, and general characteristics of dying. I’m basically mid-Little Women Beth right now, which is really tough for a full-on Jo.

You can imagine how much my constant illness made the other law students want to be my friend. 

Seriously, so many of the people here are great. They are smart and hardworking and they have really good opinions on things. But when you’re dying, it’s really hard to hear people or respond to people or stand upright.

But I kept dragging myself to class because dangit, Bethlyn taught me that real women go to class no matter how sick they are. 

Two weeks ago, on a Wednesday, I sat down in Property and felt my stomach lurch. I snuck out of class and looked for a trashcan. No dice. I started walking briskly to the nearest bathroom (downstairs). I did not make it. Well, I did make some of it. But I mostly did not make it.

I spent the next twenty minutes washing off my shirt, drying it on the hand dryer, shedding a few tears because I puked at school, and laughing because of course I puked at school. It’s incredibly mortifying and upsetting and gross. Why wouldn’t it happen to me? 

Luckily, a very nice cafeteria worker (Jennifer, you da real MVP) helped me clean up. I went back upstairs, waited till Property was over, got my stuff, went home, and slept for two days. I’m feeling much better now, but holy mug was it a long road to get here.

Guys, the grad school struggle is very real. It’s all trying to make new friends and learn a new city and join organizations while studying the hardest thing I’ve ever studied in rooms full of people who are smarter than I am. 

I forgot how much I HATE transitions until I got here. I miss Wichita: the women and the weather and the warm, beating heart of the city. I miss Norman: my Tier Zero and my wonderful Walker 10 boys and my Cherokee Gothic library and the Sonics on every corner. I miss Kamp: the challenges and familiarity of programs and the old friends who know my soul and the families with parents who love on you and kids you can love on. I miss my family.

But as much as I want to be grumpy at Austin (million-degree city fulla dingdang Longhorns), I can already see the sweetness poking through. As I write this, I can see the State Capitol building. The worship at Austin Stone Church made my heart so happy. Lady Bird Lake (or Town Lake, as I think I’m supposed to call it) is the perfect place to watch a sunset. I’ve got some really wonderful people in my class at UT Law, and several of my professors have been so kind in the wake of my illness. 

Then of course there are still sweet things from outside of Austin that I can feel here, like visits from my dad and my Wichita women, and weddings in Dallas with my mom and in Wichita, and the continued friendship of people like Sarah and Whit and Scheele and Hutto (side note: the deeper I go in to grad school, the more I need these people. Doing this stuff alone is a very bad idea). 

I’m still a little grumpy. But I know I’m not grumpy at Austin. I’m grumpy at change. And the longer the semester goes on, the less change there will be. I’m settling in here now, and I know this is where I’ve been placed. The next three (or more?) years are about discovering why.

Bring it on, Austin. I can take it.

And there’s only about a 12% chance that I’ll puke on you.