And so, the adventure begins.

Today, I packed. And unfortunately, I haven't done it well. Packing is stressful for me, and I realized this morning that this is the reason I always wait until the last minute - the less time I allow myself to pack, the less time I am stressed. Perfect logic, right? Well, if I wasn't moving to a new country for a year, I'd be spot on with my logic.

Fortunately, I began my new adventure over a year ago when I decided to go back to graduate school. Abroad. I researched programs in Italy, South Africa, Australia, and Canada, but I finally decided to apply to schools in Scotland, more specifically, the University of Aberdeen and the University of Edinburgh.

And let me tell you, the whole process of getting to the point of packing has been an adventure in itself, and not always a good one. I decided on the programs to which I wanted to apply late last year, yet somehow my fear of rejection and failure delayed my applying. But along came February, and I became anxious. I had to do this; I had to move on and experience the world of opportunities that lay ahead of me. So I did it. I filled out the application to the University of Edinburgh; I bugged old professors of mine to write me recommendations; I filled out the application to the University of Aberdeen; again, I bugged those same professors to modify their recommendations. And then I waited.

I hate waiting. I find no joy in it. It is stressful and vulnerable, and I just don't like it. Except that I asked for it. We all know that when we apply for something, anything, we must await a response. And so, that's what I did. Through March, through April, and into May. I had just about given up, assumed that my applications had been lost or forgotten, and then I received an email from the director of my program at the University of Edinburgh saying that she was delighted to have received my application and had passed along her recommendation to the Graduate School of Social and Political Sciences.

Hope. It's an amazing feeling, and finally, I was filled with it again. But then came the waiting again, and several more weeks passed before heard anything more. Meanwhile, I hadn't been sleeping too well. It was nearing the end of May, or so it felt, and I had yet to hear any confirmation from either school. I was in near desperation to know something. And finally, I open my eyes at 6:30 on May18, 30 minutes before my alarm was set to go off. According to my daily routine, I opened my laptop that lay on my bedside table, refreshed my email page, and squinted my eyes.

There it was - a new message from the University of Edinburgh. And unconditional offer into the MSc Childhood Studies program. "Dear Stephanie, I am delighted to inform you that the University is offering you admission to MSc Childhood Studies- 1 Year." I had more energy at that moment than I had had for a long time at 6:30 in the morning. Needless to say, I was no longer squinting. My eyes were wide with excitement, and possibly with a fair bit of surprise, too. They accepted me. They accepted me. What a good day that was.

And two days later, I received my acceptance letter from the University of Aberdeen. I now had the privilege to make a decision about where I wanted to study. In the end, though, I decided on the University of Edinburgh.

That hope that I mentioned before, it came back, and I welcomed it with open arms, gave it a big ol' bear hug, and promised not to let it go.

Well, I almost lied. No one told me that getting accepted was the easy part. Now I had to figure out how to pay for this education I'm trying to get. And apparently I have to have a place to live while getting this education. And then there's that little sticker they put in my passport that says I'm allowed to be in the country. That little sticker was hard to get.

So up to this point, I'd gotten my applications in later than I had wanted, I'd been accepted to a program later than I had wanted. But it was okay because I was still on track. A while back, though, I learned that you can't stop time. It doesn't really wait on you to take care of business. You gotta git 'er done.

Time was passing quickly. Work had ended; May had passed; June had opened her door, let me step in for a moment, and pushed me out, closing the door faster than I had a chance to realize what had happened. And so, here was July. I wasn't ready for July because too much needed to happen. The end of July meant the end of summer, and I wanted to have everything finished by that time.

But without getting into too much detail, my loans were delayed. The poor employees at the University had several hundred US loans to process, which they couldn't start until after July 1. Can we say rush hour on I-285?

July hurt. It hurt my hope, my pride, my passion, my desire. July made me want to give up. Then July left me, empty and afraid. I was so afraid that it just wouldn't happen, that I would never reap the benefits of overstepping my fear of failure, of persisting through months of waiting, of researching hours upon hours of how my dream was possible.

July left me with August, and August stared me down. Timid and insecure, I looked back, seething on the inside because I don't like it when others stare me down. My emotions boiling, I fought August. This is MY dream, and I will have it.

By the 3rd week of August, my visa was in my hand, and when August came to a close, I had a roommate and a place to live. Hope.

Now, here I am, taking a break from packing to begin telling my story. On the heels of my adventure, I quicken my pace, excited and ready to latch on and begin the endeavor of a lifetime!