How I Became an Editor
When I decided to go to college as a forty-something, there was no question in my mind that I would be an English major. I was born to be an English major. I had no idea that the journey I was about to embark on would change me forever. I anticipated a degree broadening my job opportunities. I did not expect that every belief I’d ever held would be challenged or that I’d be forced to ponder the merits of my beliefs.
After a series of unfortunate events and a hair-raising divorce, I found myself a middle-aged, empty nester, with no job skills except as an administrative assistant. Additionally, I was treading the waters of debilitating depression with no relief in sight. I took a long, practical look at my life. I sought treatment for the depression and enrolled in college. As daunting as the four years of higher education looked, at least I would be doing something for the next four years.
High anxiety, coupled with my depression, made the idea of taking face-to-face classes and interacting with people intimidating. I opted to take my freshman year of college online, comfortably tucked away in an oversized chair in my tiny house on seventeen acres.