The Next Big Decision

So it's 12:15 and I can't sleep. I've had a cup of Sleepytime Tea and just resorted to a sleeping pill. I'll be wiped out all day, but c'est la vie. I've got a lot of Big Thoughts going through my head as a result of a conversation my husband and I had this weekend. He lost his job about a month ago and hasn't had any luck finding a new one, though he has applied like crazy. I've only applied to a few since I'm not finished with my assistantship or school until June 30th. He thinks I should apply to the Research Associate I applicant pool, just in case--which would put me working where I currently have an assistantship. And if we were to stay, he would go back to school and finish his Bachelor's Degree. This is what's got my brain running 90 to nothing. His lack of a BA has been a point of contention for a while. He had every intention of finishing back when we were dating, then he stopped after we got married at my edict that we couldn't afford any more student loans until he knew what he was going to be when he grew up (as he changed his major 3 times). Since then he sort of fizzled out, finishing his Associate's in business by a technicality when they changed the requirements such that he'd already taken everything he needed to take. Our point of disagreement came because I always believed he would finish, and his actions in recent years said otherwise. He doesn't like school. That's never been a secret. But to me, a BA is the minimum requirement--like a high school diploma was to previous generations. It's the base level requirement for any entry level job that's worth anything; therefore, it is the sensible thing to do. We've had many fights on this issue, so when he brought this up this weekend, I was surprised. He has, I suppose, gotten to the point where he is tired enough of fighting high turn-over jobs to actually do something about it. So our next step is to go talk to an admissions counselor here at Mississippi State (which is where his boocoodles of hours are) and find out how far he is from finishing a bachelor's degree in...something and what the somethings are that he is closest to. If is means us staying here for one more year or even two so that he can go to school full time and finish, then I am absolutely 100% for it. I want it more than he does. I don't give a damn what reason he chooses to go back, so long as he does it and takes it seriously. It will make such a Huge Difference in his ability to find a job from here on out. And I think it would do a lot for his self-esteem to have finished something. So at this point I am frantically praying about what I am supposed to do in this situation. Should I put off applying to jobs in outside areas, concentrate on getting a job here, checking out the freelance editing opportunities so that I could garner a little extra income and experience while my husband finishes his degree and I wait to break into publishing? Or should I just apply to everything that interests me anywhere and hope he finishes elsewhere later? I will, of course, write like a maniac wherever we go or whatever I end up doing. But of course, he will finish in less time here than he would somewhere else since all of his credits are here. And it is far cheaper to live here than it would be somewhere bigger, so it might, perhaps, be easier to begin seriously paying off our remaining debts. As much as I don't want to stay here, I have to admit I'm leaning in that direction, if it means my husband will finish his degree. He could go to school full time and get some sort of part time student job to help out with bills. I see a lot of positives to this situation. I suppose it comes down to two factors: 1) my finding a decent job and 2) him really being willing to go back to school. We shall see.

Big Decisions

Well the grand Grad School Campaign is drawing to a close. I have received rejections from all but two schools, and those I expect any day now. After my rejection from Texas A & M, I decided to be proactive and get my resume updated and uploaded to all the major job search engines. I have taken each letter with philosophical grace--I am simply supposed to do something else. Other than writing, I don't know what that Something Else is. I have been slowly moving forward on my novel and fending off the questions of well-wishers who have been routing for me throughout the Campaign. My own disappointment I can handle. I cannot absorb anyone else's. After this week I am wearing a little thin. I met with my boss for supervision this morning and we just sort of skipped that part and she asked how I was doing. With everyone else I have been fine. But with this lovely, intuitive woman looking at me I felt like dissolving into a puddle. Which of course Wouldn't Do as I spent a great deal of time and effort on my non-tear-proof makeup this morning, and I was supposed to have 3 clients today (2 didn't show). I described my proactive stance and she encouraged me to be RE-active. I haven't cried. It's been inconvenient or inappropriate when I felt like it and once I was alone, I couldn't do it. That's how I have always been. Which amounts to crying very little. Except at movies. So perhaps I should rent a sad movie this weekend just to get it out. The Patriot would do the trick. I bawled all the way through it when I watched it in the theater once the youngest son dies. I have been under so much stress these last few months. I have now traded one Limbo for another. At least the previous version was confined to specific locations. Now I don't know where we will go or what specifically I will do.

I feel like this is a sign I should get out of psychology entirely, and I have been looking towards the publishing industry. There are a great many positives to going on to get a Real Job rather than continuing on to the next level of graduate study. I will have more time to spend with my husband and solidify our marriage. I will have more time to write for ME and actually finish the manuscripts that have been floating around in my brain. We will be able to pay off our remaining debt that much sooner. If Miles (my blue Grand Cherokee with nearly 140,000 miles) dies in the next year, I can afford to get another used vehicle that runs. We will be able to buy a house before we're 32. I will have time to WORK on that house. I will have time for a Life. I do feel, deep down, that this is the Right Thing To Do. It's just scary. And it's hard to give up a long cherished dream. Particularly when one doesn't know what one will do instead.


In the meantime, I am doing everything I can to hold it together through the end of the semester (which is in 2 weeks). Then I will simply take a few days off of work and go to pieces. I have scheduled a half hour massage for Wednesday next week. I was going to wait until the semester finished, but... It's $35 which I probably ought not spend since my husband is currently unemployed, but I need it. I'm wound up so incredibly tight. I am also emailing my dad to let him know that since I am going to get a Real Job, I need a proper briefcase, and I have picked one out for a graduation present. And I'm scheduling a shopping trip with my mother to go pick out a nice professional business suit that helps counteract the fact that I look all of about 16 rather than a mature 26.

Now I'm going to continue to hope that my 1 o'clock doesn't show (I'm terrible I know...) so that I can go home early and nap. I had another bout of insomnia last night, so I'm very sleepy today.

Resignation

I'm back again. The third day I've been able to have afternoon tea and a scone in a row. I've been under a great deal of stress lately. In my position some people would look for a Xanax or Valium. I'm happy with my scones and tea. As I mentioned in a previous post, I am currently waiting to find out if I got into graduate school. I am, at present, finishing up a masters degree in clinical psychology. I have a 4.0, excellent GRE scores, research experience, and fantastic letters of recommendation. There is no reason why I shouldn't get in. And yet I have applied before to Phd programs, albeit in clinical psychology rather than social and didn't get in. Two years running. I have felt compelled to go into therapy since I was sixteen. And once I got here, I realized that that isn't it. That isn't what I am Supposed To Be Doing. I like research, so that was the Next Logical Step. Hence the third go round of applications and 2 interviews (though half the places to which I applied don't interview). I am on the wait list at the University of Oregon (though that doesn't appear as if it will work out) and still in limbo about Texas A & M (the other place I interviewed) as well as three other schools. The national deadline is April 17th. Ten days in which the rest of my life--or my life in terms of the foreseeable future will be decided. I have been under considerable anxiety over the prospect of not getting into graduate school. There is no safety net. If I don't get in, my husband currently is without a job, and I don't have the foggiest idea what I will do.

I spent 2 hours on the phone with my best friend this afternoon getting lectured (for lack of a better term--although in a very loving manner) about how I don't listen to God. I am a very independent creature who abhors dependence. I cannot stand the notion that anyone controls my life but me. These were very natural outgrowths of my life up to a certain point and are adaptive to an extent. But she thinks it is time I move beyond that. I have complained on innumerable occasions that I need to be hit over the head with a 2x4 or sent an email from God with the subect line: What To Do With Your Life or "The Plan". My friend says that many people would take the not getting in to grad school two years running before as a sign. But not me. I keep on plodding along because that's what I know. If I don't get into graduate school in ten days, it will not be the end of the world. Someone remind me I said that if it happens. But at least I will know, beyond the shadow of a doubt that I did absolutely everything in my power to make it happen. I will have done everything there is to do and satisfied myself of that fact. It was the "safe" thing to do. She proceded to point out a number of other arenas in which I have done exactly that--chosen the safe path rather than the risk. I must confess, I found myself somewhat shocked. I hadn't ever realized that I had that habit. But clearly I do. I've always chalked it up to practicality. But somewhere I have crossed a line.

My relationship with God has been somewhat touch and go over the years. After my parents' very messy divorce my middle years of college, I turned away and only in the last few years began to be on speaking terms with Him again. And as it turns out it's been mostly me speaking and refusing to listen to anything said in return. "No no no. This is what I want to do. I'm going to do things My Way." My way has been to be mulishly determined to pursue a PhD in psychology, regardless of whatever has stood in my way. And now, ten days before the Fat Lady Sings, I find myself floundering and able to admit that on some level I don't even CARE if I get into graduate school--I just want to Know to be Put Out Of My Misery.

I cannot imagine what I will do with myself if I don't go on to more graduate study. School is what I know. It's the "Safe Thing" again. My brief 2 year stint in the Real World convinced me that I hated it and wanted to get back in and stay in the world of Academia where I knew how to function. And my friend is right. It IS a crutch.

If having my Best Friend (who happens to have a master's of divinity, whose opinion I probably respect above almost all others, and who knows me better than probably anyone) tell me I'm not listening is not a Clear Sign that I am, in fact, Not Listening, then it's time I stopped my arguing and humming with my fingers metaphorically in my ears and do so.

So here I am. I admit it. I don't know what I am doing. There. That should gain me entrance into Control Freaks Anonymous. I wonder where the nearest meeting is? I am throwing up my hands. You Win, God. I clearly don't have a clue and my way has clearly just mucked my life up Good and Proper. I am Human. I am Fallible. I am, above all, Stubborn as one of Your Mules. But that's it. I give up. I Don't Have A Clue. And I'm Listening. And uncomfortable as it may be for me, I am ready to hand over the reins.

Simple Pleasures, Small Blessings

"The first cup moistens my lips and throat.
The second shatters my loneliness.
The third causes the wrongs of life to fade gently from my recollection.
The fourth purifies my soul.
The fifth lifts me to the realms of the unwinking gods."

Chinese mystic
Tang Dynasty

If you ask anyone who knows me even moderately well, they will tell you that I love tea. Now, yes, I am Southern and do drink sweet iced tea, but that is another thing altogether. I'm talking about proper hot tea. I feel about tea the way our favorite Silly Old Bear feels about honey. Now based upon this particular quote (which I simply love), and taking into account that my mug, which proudly proclaims "Curl Up With Me Full Of Tea" [a gift from a wonderful friend], holds about 2 cups, then I have just finished cup number 4. Along with a scone, which is another of those immutable pleasures in life--one of those joys I picked up while living in Scotland. The tea did, in fact, come earlier. Having been generally wound up and stressed out lately, the fact that I got off early enough from work this afternoon that I could come home, have a nap, and go through the ritual of afternoon tea has worked miracles. A series of simple pleasures and small blessings. I was literally skipping around the kitchen as I heated up my scone and waited for the tea to steep. If asked, I would have to confess that I am something of a tea snob. I can't drink the inexpensive tea bags one finds at the grocery store. Once one has become accustomed to loose tea, one can never go back. And as I have an excellent source for said loose tea, I don't have to.

My good fortune this afternoon has me pondering about those very simple pleasures and small blessings in life in which I find so much joy. Indeed, where would we be if we did not take the time to be thankful and enjoy these things? Irritations happen. Things we would rather went well go wrong. Cars break (that's my most recent stressor). It can often be far too easy to forget about the good things because they may not be big. So I have my morning tea daily (this is required for me to feel human and face the day...otherwise Look Out) and count my blessings when I have the opportunity for afternoon tea. I love playing with my dogs, Daisy and Angel, who are some of my greatest joys in life. When it's winter I count my small blessings that the humidity is low and I can have long stretches of good straight hair days. In the spring and summer when it's humid, I can have long stretches of good curly hair days. These may seem silly and small things. But as far as I am concerned, anything that puts a smile on my face is a good thing and should be noted. I am contemplating getting a rubber duckie shower curtain for our new place. I think they're funny and they'd make me smile first thing in the morning (and as I am not a morning person, that is no small feat). In the meantime I believe I shall go enjoy a Not For School Book.

Welcome To The Thoughtful Spot

I have other blogs for various purposes, but I decided I would like a place to set down my philosophical thoughts apart from my daily blog where I just dump anything and everything about what is going on in life. I initially thought about A Circle of Quiet, which is the title of my favorite book by Madeleine L'Engle. But last night I was reading through The Tao of Pooh (another favorite) and came across a passage from Milne's Winnie-the-Pooh stories in which Pooh and Piglet are standing in The Thoughtful Spot and trying to decide on Something of Importance. And that image appealed to me. Standing somewhere in a peaceful Hundred Acre Wood away from the hustle and bustle of life to think about the things that are truly important. Wherever I end up for graduate school this coming fall (and that is one of the Big Changes which will shortly be taking place, or at least decided), I think I shall have to find my own physical Thoughtful Spot. But in the meantime, and even after, I would like to use this as my metaphorical Thoughtful Spot.