I am occasionally a little superstitious.
When a big change is happening in my life, I look for signs that it is a change in the right direction.
When I got into the History Master's program, everything seemed to be falling into place. I got in to the program I wanted, I got the advisor I wanted, my best friend wanted to move with me, and I was able to borrow furniture from a friend.
But then when I got out there, things started to fall apart. I couldn't find an apartment for us to rent, the History department said there were no grad students around and I should come back during the first week like a normal person, my advisor couldn't meet me because he threw his back out golfing. I started panicking. This was not the way things were supposed to have worked out.
My first year did not go exactly as planned. I had kidney stones on my first day of classes and when I finally attended a class, the students were still grand-standing how much they knew and I started crying in class because I had no idea what they were talking about. I slowly understood that you didn't need to know all that crap, and I had some insightful things to say, but I spent most of my classes feeling overwhelmed and stupid. Which is probably why it took me three more years to write my thesis.
So why am I going back to grad school?
I learned my lesson. (I hope). I learned that fate and luck and divine intervention, if there are such things, can only get you to the door. I have to open the door and do the work to get what I need out of the program. And what I need are the skills for a lasting career.
Besides, I got into the program, and I have already found a good little apartment, walking distance to the school, for a very reasonable rent.
All signs point to yes.