Beginning in the fall of 2010, when I started my Masters program, I began panicking about how to make the degree worth it and where I would be in five years and how to ever afford to buy a house and pay off loans and have the kind of (totally reasonable) life I want to have. This continued until around May this year, when I got off birth control, got my teaching job back and decided to just live my life and take things one step at a time (with step one being getting my thesis proposal approved), as opposed to trying to do everything at the same time in an effort to accomplish every goal by the time I turn 30 (be debt free, find the perfect place to live, own a house, have kids, etc).
I’ve been okay with this. I remind myself that I am only 26 and that life is long.
Until, of course, I have lunches with friends who are about to graduate medical school and start their residency and then I feel like a total failure, despite the fact that I’ve known my whole life that I don’t want to be a doctor.
What I’d really like is stability and the promise of someday making more money. A girl can dream.
In happier news, Fertile Myrtle was back in town this past week for Thanksgiving and we took my fake niece to Disneyland. It goes without saying that that was the cutest thing I’ve ever done.
I also learned that Myrtle is pregnant with another girl, which is super exciting. I will have a friend who has daughterS, which freaks me out. I am officially an old person.
Myrtle told me I should pick a random day of the month (like, say, ASAP, because everyone is getting anxious about the contents of my uterus) and take a pregnancy test on that day each month. This seems to be an intelligent plan, considering I am apparently never going to get a period again and I have friends who got pregnant without having cycles and I should just do that for peace of mind until I can figure out what to do about my doctor situation.* I was going to implement this plan this weekend, until I found myself at the local grocery store, staring at a wall of pregnancy tests locked in plastic anti-theft boxes. I am a grown woman and could not stand the thought of one of the teenage male cashiers having to wrestle with the plastic box to sell me a test. No thank you.
I’ll get some tomorrow.
*The doctor situation: The OBGYN who has been overseeing all my Provera/Clomid/blood test/no menstrual cycle craziness is a woman I started seeing in June at the recommendation of my aunt, who just recently suffered (non-life threatening, but still pretty horrible) complications at the hands of this doctor during a routine surgery. My aunt and I have different last names and look nothing alike and I’m pretty sure this doctor doesn’t remember my namedropping my aunt at our first consultation, but I feel really uncomfortable with the situation as it stands and am in the market for another OBGYN. Thus, I have been making zero progress on the baby train as I try to secure another doctor. Joy.