I used to be a bit of a Pollyanna – always looking on the bright side and figuring that things happened for a reason. I think that’s a pretty easy way to be when the “changes” you experience are things like not speaking to your high school best friend by the time you both graduate from the same college. The horror. You accept this as a casualty of growing up and move on because everything happens for a reason, etc.
Unfortunately, when you find yourself months out of school and nowhere closer to answers, hit with huge existential questions about what type of life you want for yourself and how far you feel from achieving that life, all you see are closing doors and no open windows. Being a Pollyanna becomes impossible.
I feel like I was sitting in a pretty gloomy place for a large part of my early 20s. Maybe everyone goes through that and maybe no one wants to hear about my days as a terrible sadsack because as far as lives in crisis go, mine has been relatively comfortable (I’ve always had family and friends nearby and my husband who loves me and I’ve managed to live in gorgeous LA, albeit in tiny spaces, for the past eight years). However, despite my clear recognition that I am, even in the darkest times, incredibly lucky, I’ve been miserable about not reaching my potential for years now (just what that potential is, though, is anyone’s guess).
So, imagine my surprise this week when I found myself really, genuinely optimistic about the next few months. I feel like I have a plan for the first time in ages. It might not seem like much, but I can’t wait. The plan:
1) Get my thesis research done and write the damn paper. Hopefully.
2) Fly to some faraway land and participate in an archaeological field school next summer. I have always wanted to do it, but have always felt it was too expensive/we couldn’t afford it. I’ll have some money saved up and can finally use the $2,000 in Governor’s Scholarship money I won in high school. No more excuses.
3) Leave field school and meet my mom somewhere in Europe and tool around and have adventures.
4) Come home and try to get pregnant in earnest, having accomplished the last thing I’ve wanted to do in my 20s that would be impossible to do with a child. Have a baby in 2014. All will be well.
I’m starting to think there was a reason Clomid didn’t work. Maybe I’m having a stroke.