Yesterday, like my seventh grader and so many around the country, I went back to school.

It’s been nearly a quarter century since I enjoyed olive, mushroom and onion pizza at Kirby Student Center. Two and a half decades since I studied media relations in the orange-and-white checkered Ven Den. Twenty-five years since I drove circles around the Darland Admin parking lot hoping I’d see someone, anyone walking out so I could snag their parking spot.

Despite the passage of time, I approached the semester much the same way I did back then. The evening before, I drove to campus to figure out where to park, and to locate the classroom, the coffee dispensers, and the bathrooms. I bought an actual, paper textbook at the bookstore. I filled a pink Nalgene decorated with an “Ithaca is Gorges” sticker and placed it in the fridge so it’d be nice and cold in the morning.

The only meaningful difference?

Instead of packing colorful Sakura Gelly Roll pens and a binder full of reinforced looseleaf into my Birkie-branded backpack, I brought a laptop.

Walking into a classroom of 18- and 19-year-olds at 46 was just as scary as it was when I was 18. What if I’m immediately identified as a weirdo? What if no one sits at my table?

But you know what? It was totally fine. Better than fine. It was great. I’m completely energized.

After a parting from a position – and people! – I loved, I’m taking my time to reset, and I’m exploring Every. Single. Option.

I’ve been vaguely interested in healthcare careers for several years, and that interest grew during my recent surgery, when I experienced firsthand what a difference a great nurse can make during deeply difficult, vulnerable times.

While my most likely next move will be to stay in my beloved marcomm, I always like being ready, just in case (the stockpile of canned black beans in my basement confirms this). And no matter what happens next, tackling A & P will cement my yoga teacher and fitness coach learnings, and improve my abilities with my side gigs.