"Blessed are the pessimistic...

for they hath made backups."

This is on the marquee of a church I've passed nearly everyday this week. People have always told me that I'm on the pessimistic or negative side. And I've always had a plan B (and usually a C, D, and Z). So I guess the marquee could be called true, at least in my case.

I've been asking myself this week what has happened to me.

I was a responsible, stable, diligent, persistent person. Up until February of this year, I had an impeccable resume. All of my supervisors thought I was a fabulous employee, and I was making every logical step towards my career goals. I was involved in a church where I was a small group leader and people thought I was a fabulous Christian girl. I had a dog who I loved, and I believe loved me. I had a steady income with a perfectly comfortable one bedroom apartment that I had decorated in a very cute 20-something way. I had a daddy and a grandma. I had some place to go for Christmas. No, not just some place to go. Some place I was EXPECTED to be at. They didn't invite me to Christmas; I was already there.

I moved to Seattle, and at first I think I was still me. I was still normal and reliable and not disappointing. I was in a reputable doctoral program and had an assistantship with wonderful people giving me wonderful experience. I was involved in a church and starting to make friends.

Then I dated a boy (no, not a man...a boy) from that church. He did something that, by everyone's account including his own, was just plain selfish and stupid, and I let it unravel me. I quit my doctoral program. I also ditched the Christian faith I had grown up on, and had become frustrated with and disillusioned by for the past few years. My grandmother, was also my best friend, sold her house she'd lived in most of my life, and moved to live with relatives as it was decided she couldn't live on her own anymore. I was looking for jobs and had a panic attack when I didn't find a job within the first two months (because I had no plan B when I left school, as I always had in the past) so I took one that I didn't really want in Texas.

Then I met another...this time, a man. He, however, was in Washington. I was in Texas, unhappy at the job I'd taken that I didn't want. The man and the doctoral program I should never have left were both in Washington. So I came back.

The job hunting resumed and I finally was offered a position at a for-profit institution. They approached education in a very different way than I was accustomed to, and it was not a good fit. The business model and "sales position" left me feeling empty.

To boot, my father died suddenly just three weeks into this new position.

I came back after the funeral and other arrangements were taken care of and functioned for a couple of weeks. Then, overwhelmed by life, I stayed in bed, cried, was physically ill and probably other things for the last couple of weeks.

I wonder if I hadn't dated the boy that I could tell was going to do just what he did if I would be sane now. Or if I'd stayed in school back in February and kept my assistantship and that would have kept me sane. Or not ditched Christianity, even though I already had inside even if I hadn't announced it yet. Or stayed in Texas in May and lived life in Denton, back to church at the Village and back to advising at UNT. Or if I'd not said yes to the for-profit "sales position" that I should have known was not going to suit me, and been willing to keep going with the job hunt. Or if I had not lost my father suddenly.

But I suspect that the problem isn't my location. It's that I am lost. Every decision I make leads me further down Failure Road. I am now facing the possibility of a barely more than minimum wage job while I try to finish my class and figure out what to do. How to care about anything.

I find myself now unraveled, hanging on at the end of the fraying rope.