The Bed That Broke the Camel's Back

Post Edit: If you've been reading for a while, you know that things have gone terribly wrong lately, and this is just another post to allow me to vent so that I don't yell at people in real life. If you're new here, I don't recommend continuing. This is not a good place to start. In general, if there's no pictures, you can bet I'm just venting.

I am not an optimist.

Years of life experience have instilled in me a sense of skepticism and cynicism so strong that it's taken over almost all my other personality traits. I don't always express it, but my inner dialog is generally so harsh that it makes Lewis Black sound like an effiminate camp counselor.

Regardless of all the hard won steeliness the years have granted me, I think back to myself a month ago, and I don't know how I could have let myself temporarily become that person.

For one glorious month I was sure everything would work out.

I was hopeful.

Optimistic even.

I was happy and looking forward to the future more than I had in years.

There was a letter sitting on Dr A's desk that essentially said "We want you as a resident."

I was looking for a new apartment in a new city.

Elsie was getting the cutest bedroom set you've ever seen.

I had the suitcases dusted and ready to go.

Then came March.

No Match.

The letter was a lie.

Instead of looking for a three bedroom in a new town, I have to look for someplace smaller and cheaper in my current town.

The suitcases went back into the attic.

Elsie still needed a big girl bed, and like with all the other false promises of February, she wouldn't be getting the cutest set you've ever seen. (Seriously, the first time I saw it, I thought, "Wow, that is literally the sweetest furniture a little girl could ask for." I was thrilled, delighted, and shocked when told that Elsie could just have it since the owner didn't like it anymore.

I couldn't believe it.

Seriously, I couldn't believe it- when I see a gift horse, I don't look it in the mouth. I put up my shield and wait for a Trojan army to attack.)

Even if we are having to downsize, Elsie is still getting too big for her crib.

My friend Kellie had offered me her son's old toddler bed, but I'd politely declined since I thought Elsie was all set in the bedding department.

I called Kellie to see if the offer was still good, but she'd taken it to the Salvation Army. So I drove down to the Salvation Army, hoping I could get it for a steal, but it was gone.

I spent the rest of the day trying to find Elsie furniture. Finally, I found something I could afford. It was ugly and damaged in a last-of-its-kind-floor-model kind of way, but I could give it a coat of paint and make it work. So I found a salesman.

Sold.

It was already sold, it just hadn't been picked up.

I went home, but Elsie was napping happily in the backseat, enjoying the cool spring air from the open windows, so I just sat in my driveway and sobbed.

Not for any reason in particular, but because I knew that someone would be filling the residency spot that I thought was Dr. A's. They would never appreciate it half as much as Dr A would. They couldn't possibly need it as much.

Because (*stomping my feet*) I don't wanna sell/giveaway all my stuff so I can squeeze into a tiny apartment once again.

Because "the cutest bedroom set you've ever seen" had been sold for a song to someone who will never appreciate it as much as I would have, without even giving me a heads up so I could buy it.

Because my bad luck precluded me from even buying ugly furniture.

Because I had allowed myself the luxury of optimism, only to have my hopes destroyed so thoroughly it shook my faith in all things I still had faith in.

Because the cruelest thing you can do to a hard-hearted girl is to give her hope, then take it away.

Something I Forgot To Mention:

In the midst of all Dr A's soul crushing drama I forgot to mention one very pleasant thing that occurred recently- I got the grades back from my mid-terms, and across the board- I made the highest grades. Even in the class where I thought I would barely pass the test, I ended up making the only perfect score!

I do have Dr A to thank in large part- because of his uncanny ability to remember everything he's ever learned in school he makes an excellent tutor.

Also, one of my essays is being added to the handbook my professors uses, as an example of how it should be done!

I know it doesn't really make a difference in the frame of reference that our life is totally going down the crapper, but having a little something I can be proud of for myself is definitely a little pick-me-up. My only wish is that college professors would use those shiny gold stars that elementary teachers use. I do love me some shiny gold stars- to this day when I flip through my old piano sheet music for something to warm up my harp with, I still feel a pang of pride when I see those 20 year old shiny stars that remind me how my tiny fingers once rocked those songs on my music teacher's piano.

Farewell to facebook...

I de-activated my facebook account last week.

I miss it terribly, but my little family is going through incredibly hard times, and my beloved facebook friends only made it worse. I got so many messages last week, and I really didn't want to reply to them, but at the same time, I really didn't want people to think I'm ignoring them (even though, for my own sanity, I am). So, I decided it would be best to just digitally disappear for a while, until I have something more positive I can say.

It's not that I mind explaining what's going on, but most people wouldn't understand.

If you and your spouse have never spent a decade of youth, and 200000+ dollars pursuing a dream, only to watch it die over the span of three years, then it's hard to understand.

If you've never given up everything in exchange for something that turned out to be nothing, then you probably wouldn't understand.

If you aren't a doctor, or the spouse of a doctor then you probably won't understand the immense weight of this statement: Dr A didn't get a match... again.

What does this mean, laymen?

It means that for another year everything we've spent the better part of a decade working toward is on hold.

It means that we have to start paying back student loans, without the career that those students loans were spent on.

It means we have to find someplace new (re: cheaper) to live.

It means depression, anger, frustration...

It means another year of struggling to get by.

It means I just want to hide from everyone I know until March 2013, even though I could be writing this same post next year too, because when it comes to the NRMP there are no guarantees.

Basically, it means we're screwed.

scenes on a screen

Have you ever been watching a really bad movie, perhaps because your sweetie really wanted to see it?

It dragged, didn't make sense, involved characters that were impossible to understand, and in general was just so frustrating that you wanted to walk out of it? That's how I feel about my life right now. I'm stuck watching while things go wrong and there's really nothing I can do to change any of it. I can't alter the events unfolding before me- all I can change is where I'm sitting.

The Best Year

I can't believe it's been a whole year since I welcomed this lovely little lady into my life:

It's been an incredibly quick year,

But I can't shake the feeling that it's the only year of my life.

Did I live before she looked at me with those big beautiful eyes?

What did I do before there were sweet (albeit disgustingly slobbery) baby kisses to look forward to?

Somewhere in my head, smushed behind my knowledge of VeggieTales and the correct dosage of infant tylenol, there are memories of a girl who traveled, who read dozens of books on a Caribbean beach, who lived in a NYC high-rise and took two trains to work, but that person who put on Kings Of Leon and painted with wanton disregard of passing time and the amount of chemicals being inhaled, pretty much only shares my fingerprints (although I did a pretty good job of burning those off in a restaurant a few years ago). I can't imagine living in a world where my laundry doesn't smell like baby detergent, where there aren't mysterious snacks abandoned in random locales all over the house (a cookie in the bath tub?), where nobody laughs hysterically when I throw the sheets up like a parachute over head. I went a lot of places and did a lot of very important stuff in the first 25 years of my life but the last one is the only one I lived.