I'm doing better than I thought I would here.
When I first submitted my PhD application I almost threw up. I thought "what could be worse than going back there? My sister died there. I almost died there." But I also knew I had friends among the faculty and would almost certainly do very well among people whose interests align with my own (and would push mine in useful directions).
Wouldn't you know, this happened to be the best place I got into (with funding). It felt kind of meant to be. It felt kind of like being grabbed by the throat and kind of like a victory and a second chance.
And I'm doing okay. Only one "break down and cry in the middle of the sidewalk" moment. More than one "look around, how far I've come, I thought this was impossible" moment. Only a few "you're totally inadequate, how on earth did you think someone who nearly failed out of undergraduate could succeed in a PhD" kinds of moments. Quite a few "wow, I have something to offer" or "words are coming out of my mouth in surprisingly well-assembled clusters" kinds of moments.
I have to learn Ancient Greek. I'm a bit worried. But I'm standing at a post-midterm A in German and that bolsters my self-estimation of my talent for language-learning.
I haven't wanted to kill myself yet.