When I was a freshman in college, one of the first things I was assigned to do in our Cornerstone class (aka College 101) was to write a 5 year after college plan…where would I be five years after I graduated?
I think the point was to help us decide on a major.
A what-to-do-in-college plan.
Wanna know how many of those things I actually did from my plan that ends on my birthday this year?
In my “plan” I wasn’t married, I went to grad school to be a shrink and I was living out West.
That little exercise did teach me a lesson, though.
Expect the unexpected. Don’t plan too far ahead…because it probably won’t happen the way you think it will.
If it does, you’re totally anal.
It is almost laughable when I think about it. I mean, when you write it on paper it comes out all, “I’m 26…married to a man who is 13 years my senior who was never married before…never even engaged…living in nowhere, Georgia where I write for a living.”
Five years ago, I had no idea that writing was my true calling. I just knew I could write emails and letters that would plaster someone to their seat starting with the very first sentence. Somehow that didn’t connect to an actual profession. I did toy with journalism in high school. I was on the yearbook committee for two years and everything.
But I ended up majoring in Psychology instead. I was captivated by it. I loved it…I loved class and I soaked up everything like a sponge. I couldn’t get enough. I think it helped me understand myself.
And I needed that.
I also had a boyfriend throughout my ENTIRE college life. All three years, minus a “break” in the middle that wasn’t really a break. It all went down the toilet after I graduated and we lived together. BIG MISTAKE. He’s the goose guy. The one with all the “great ideas” but was allergic to hard work.
But, had I not been with him…I may have met someone else…and I could potentially be married to them now…or at least in a long-term relationship.
I also got some wild hair up my ass about two weeks before my first spring semester was over. I decided I wanted to graduate college in three years. Why four when I can do it in three? Where that came from and why I followed through on it…I have not a clue…but I had to make all these special arrangements to be sure classes would transfer because I applied to a school close to my parent’s house a week before the deadline…which required multiple trips home during the same week I was taking finals (90 miles…one way. Not impossible but long enough to be annoying) to get everything in order. It was insane. I was in school all year long…for three years.
But I did it.
And then I half-applied to about five grad schools. I never finished any of the applications. I didn’t know what I wanted to “specialize” in so I just abandoned the whole thing. The part I had THE MOST trouble with were the essays on why I wanted to be in a particular program.
And I was awesome at essays. Essay’s are why I did so well on my anatomy tests. Because I always got all the points on the essay. I sucked at the “lab” portion because I refused to go after class to study Felix, our skinned cat or the hog heart. That was a little too up close and personal for me. So I usually always sucked at that part.
Anyway, I’m totally rambling.
After I graduated, I ended up living with the ex-who-was-allergic-to-work for about 5 months.
Then I called my dad all, COME GET ME. I packed up my stuff…which fit into like three boxes…and walked out without even saying goodbye. Mostly because the asshole was busy talking on the phone to whoever he was “seeing,” shut away in another room.
I lived with my dad for another few months while I was looking for a job.
I couldn’t seem to find one. So I started working at a restaurant as a server (NOT WAITRESS).
Who hires a recent grad with a PSYCH degree?
(The eventual answer is two horny men, by the way)
So, I worked late hours, I went on LOTS of dates with guys I never saw again and I went to the gym.
That was my life.
I was 21.
With no plans.
And then I found Tim and sent him an email.
My dad FREAKED OUT when I finally told him that Tim was 13 years older than me all, “HIS INTENTIONS AREN’T WHAT YOU THINK.”
I kept seeing him, anyway.
Yet, had I not graduated in three years…not been with douchebag the whole damn time…had I gone to grad school…and had I not randomly decided to start the whole online dating thing…
I would have never met Tim.
I wouldn’t have the life I do now.
And you think my story is crazy?
Wait until you hear Tim’s.
He had 13 more years to potentially screw it up go down a different path.
His is next…it’s coming.