For 16 weeks, I have been fighting an uphill battle.

I’ve been trying to learn when my life wouldn’t allow for it. I’ve been trying to push through pain that I am not equipped to handle. I’ve been fighting emotional demons that have thrown me so far into the valley, that at times, I haven’t even been able to see the mountain I set out to climb.

But today I reached the top of that mountain.

Today, I finished my first semester of graduate school.

I made it.

These 16 weeks have been difficult. Sometimes nightmarish. I wouldn’t hesitate to say that they have been among the worst weeks of my life. They have been filled with more pain, stress and effort than any others.

I’m not going to get a report card with straight As. In fact, I strongly suspect that the Bs will vastly outnumber the As. And I don’t care. What I care about is that (aside from one class that’s still questionable) I passed all 8 classes I took this semester.

I passed.

I know it seems silly to be so elated about this. It’s just school. It’s only one semester out of the 9 I have to get this degree. And nearly all 94 of my classmates can make the same claims of success that I am. I’m not unique, I did what everyone else did, and in some cases, not as well.

But I didn’t think I’d see this day. And I’m proud. I’m elated. I’m beside myself.

I survived this semester of hell.

I climbed this impossibly high mountain. And the view takes my breath away.

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