I did it. I finally did it. After what feels like a MILLION years, I defended my dissertation. Dr. [My Name Here]. Like, for real. I got the email this morning. It’s over. The damn thing is actually OVER. And I should be jumping for joy, right? Cracking open some champagne, dancing in the kitchen like a lunatic. But I just… didn’t. I got the email and I just kinda stared at it. Didn’t even tell anyone yet. My son’s off at college, my dad’s got his memory going in and out, and my mom… well, she’s got her own stuff to deal with. So I just… sat there. Then I started packing up my office, all my research books, all those notes. Years and years of my life, boxed up. And it felt… hollow. Like, what was all that FOR? I spent every single free minute – and a lot of minutes that weren’t free, let's be honest – hunched over books, writing, editing, trying to make sense of some obscure corner of history that NO ONE else probably cares about. Missed so many soccer games, so many school plays, just so I could get this done. So I could have this fancy title. And now I got it. And I feel NOTHING. Less than nothing. Just tired. So bone tired I can barely lift these damn boxes. I used to think this was the finish line. The thing that would prove I could do something for ME. Not just for everyone else. Not just driving Dad to appointments or calling Mom’s doctor or making sure Kevin remembered to pay his tuition bill. This was MY thing. The one thing that was MINE. And now it’s done. And I’m just… here. With a house full of boxes and a quiet that’s LOUDER than any noise. What the hell do I do now? What even AM I without this? I don’t even know. And I’m kinda scared to find out. Like, really, really scared. I just keep thinking… was that it? All that work for this empty feeling? God. I’m such an idiot.