One Breath at a Time

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

"And everything's gone terribly wrong that can,
But one breath at a time is an acceptable plan, she tells herself. . . "

                                                 - Tamburitza Lingua
                                           Ani DiFranco

Fact 1: I am fabulous at planning things.
Fact 2: I am ridiculously Type-A.
Fact 3: I catastrophize like a PRO.
Fact 4: I am the WORST at being patient.
Fact 5: This is an absolutely horrible combination. 

So, if you have spoken to me, even in passing, in the last 3 weeks, I've probably mentioned (read: obsessively talked about) how I am waiting to hear from USP about my interview for PA school.  When I interviewed on December 19th, they said that we'd be hearing about acceptances in the first week of January.  For those of you playing the home game, that was LAST week.  When nothing came in the mail or email for the entirety of last week, I wasn't ENTIRELY surprised because admissions committees are notorious for saying one thing and doing twelve other things, usually without telling any of the interested parties. I called and left a message on Friday, then emailed on Monday and called another person in admissions... all without any answer.  By Monday night and Tuesday, I was legitimately depressed because as Fact 3 points out, I catastrophize like a pro and had somehow decided that not only had I been rejected, I was going to get rejected from the rest of the schools that I haven't heard from yet, and then I'd have to post-bacc/retake classes which is not only expensive, but time consuming... and I'm not OLD by any sense of the word, but PA school takes 2-3 years and I'd be spending at least a year doing the post-bacc thing... and someday I'd like to have children, preferably before I'm 35, and God knows if I can even HAVE kids.... so I essentially had talked myself into believing that I am never going to get into PA school and that in the process of trying, I will have squandered my reproductive years and subsequently lost both my career and family aspirations... and that because of that, Ken would leave me and my friends would think I was crazy and so then I'd be alone.  Forever.

Basically, I'd be a huge failure at life, the universe, and everything.  

All because I didn't get an email or a large envelope in the mail.



So today, I decided that I was going to call and get someone on the phone at USP.  It took me three separate tries, but I finally got one of the administrative assistants to answer the phone and she transferred me to the Admissions Director, who clearly had silenced her phone once the first week in January had passed and she knew she'd be getting a deluge of phone calls from anxious people like myself.  She told me that no, no decisions had been mailed as of yet and that I hadn't missed anything, and that yes, she had been getting approximately a thousand phone calls a day (probably only a slight exaggeration).  I asked if she had any idea when they'd be going out, and she told me "sometime within the next two weeks" so I guess the "first week in January" was really the "last week in January".  

But hey, I haven't been rejected!  Yet...?  (See, still catastrophizing.)

Anyway, now I can breathe.  A little.  And stop stalking my mailbox.  Sort of.  I told you, I'm really bad at being patient.

And I just want to be able to plan my life, for pete's sake.  It's really annoying to not know what the hell is going on in August... which I realize sounds kind of absurd because August is 8 months away... but Ken and I want to move in July and we have to tell our complex in May whether we're staying, so we're going to start looking in late April for places... which is ALSO really annoying because I'd like to move NOW, or at least know where we're moving in April, because that's only FOUR months away.  

So yes.  Basically, my brain is a disaster, as per usual.  But I haven't been rejected from PA school, so that's good.  

In other news, my joints are KILLING me today and I just want to go home, fill my prescription, take drugs, and lie down under the heated blanket for awhile.  Thankfully, it's just after 4, which means I can do that.  And tomorrow is Thursday, AKA: Almost Friday, and Friday I'm taking a half day because my dad is flying in for the weekend.  I really hope that I don't feel disgusting.  Wishful thinking, perhaps.

And so with that, I am off... into the disgusting, rainy, freezing, wet, mess that awaits outside.  Brr.

- A

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