Fear after 50

This back-to-school business is exciting, but as with any thrill ride, its flip side is terror. The fears are looming large tonight, so I'm putting them out there where I can see them. Lucky me...you all can see them, too.

1. It's scary to think about coming home after a long day of school and missing the opportunity to debrief (in person) with the one who knows me best. Twenty five years of marriage creates a certain amount of interdependence in even the most stubborn of people. Call me corny as Kansas in August, but I really like hanging out with the guy I married. It's a good thing, because due to my vision issues, Steve gets to be my chauffeur/bodyguard most days. Any marriage counselor would say a couple months of individual autonomy will be good for both of us. But what's good is not necessarily what's comfortable.

2. I'm a compensating introvert. And one of the important objectives of this sabbatical is to get out there and meet folks of different generations with different values and world views. Some days I can muster the courage to plop my dinner tray down at a table full of strangers and strike up some small talk. But other times, my wallflower self takes over and I could more easily do a hundred pull-ups than try to break out of my shell and make a new friend. Hope I can get over myself.

3. I'm a former marching band geek who participates in adult spelling bees. The dorm I'll be living in houses many of the student athletes (i.e., cool kids). So while I should have left those stereotypes behind long ago, I have a vestigial fear that I'll still be on the outside lookng in. Worst of all, the millennials I'm hoping to befriend may well view me as a weird Mrs. Kravitz figure...a matronly wet blanket to their youthful hijinks.

4. There's a really good chance I won't do this perfectly. I recently looked at my college transcript from 1972-76. Guess what? I took four years' worth of classes I knew I could ace. While this did wonders for my GPA, it left me with huge blind spots which will prevent me from ever becoming a Jeopardy champ. Fortunately, I chose this summer's classes a few weeks ago when I was in fearless mode, so instead of further honing my writing skills and getting the easy A, I'll be grappling with Class Guitar (showcasing my stage fright, performance anxiety, and mediocre musical talent) and Web Design (learning Flash, Photoshop, Dreamweaver, html, and other skills not necessarily correlated with a writer's DNA). I'll do my best. But unlike getting my journalism degree, it probably won't be pretty.

5. The dorm bathroom will be way down the hall. In the middle of the night. This reality makes pitchers of beer at the Big Ten Bar less appealing, for sure.

In conclusion, to everyone who's been saying, "Wow. You're really brave," I say, "Um. Not so much."

Please send me a few good, confident vibes if you're so inclined. And I'll try to spare you any further meltdowns.