Friday, February 5, 2010

Well this is embarassing...

My life has always seemed to follow a pattern. I love to plan ahead - I make plans and research my options and create this awesome future for myself. Then the rug gets pulled out from under me and I find myself facing a completely different direction. In high school, the plan was Eastman School of Music, then London Symphony, then best violist in the world. Lofty goals, I know. The rug in this instance was depression, which led me to stop playing as seriously and consider psychology instead. I ended up at BYU-Idaho, a psychology major. Pretty far away from Rochester, New York, but it turned out to be a great experience.

For graduate school, I had the idea of going out of state again, heading out on my own, an independent and fiesty young woman. I was accepted to Lewis and Clark College in Portland, Oregon. I drove out to find an apartment, but I just couldn't do it. It didn't feel right. I drove back to Utah and took a job instead. Little did I know the upcoming rug - the trifecta of crashing my car, losing my job, and getting dumped within days. Out of money and unemployed, I moved in with my aunt. On the first day at my new singles ward, I met a cute South African boy named Sam.

Sam and I have been pretty good about flying on the seat of our pants and letting the wind blow us around. Soon after arriving in Hawaii, I felt really compelled to continue on with a PhD. Not having much time to research, I only applied to BYU, with complete confidence that I would be accepted. We started spending time on craigslist, marveling at how cheap our apartment would be, how we would be able to get a dog and it would be great to be able to buy a gallon of milk for less than $6. The last few weeks since submitting my application have been nerve-wracking. I am constantly checking my email and my application status online. Worried about the cost of a plane ticket for the interview, I emailed the department secretary to ask when I would be notified of the interview dates. Just hours later I got a reply: "Our program faculty have met and selected those applicants who will be invited to the Admission Seminar. I'm sorry to inform you that you were not one of those selected to attend the seminar nor continue with the admission selection process." My heart sped up, then promptly fell to my stomach. My cheeks reached boiling point. Then the phone on my desk rang. The secretary told me that my next client had arrived. Super.

That evening, Sam and I had a good talk on the beach to discuss our future plans. The next day at work I took advantage of the fact that all of my coworkers are therapists, and talked things through. Today I feel good. I've been looking at jobs, and am excited to enter the workforce. We're hoping to go back to Southern California, but I know at this point to just say, "I guess we'll see!"


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