I always have a backup plan. It might be a result of the forest-fire that roared through my life a few years ago, but I suspect my need for a backup plan predates that by many years. It’s kind of funny, actually- since I’m not much for front-end plans- I wing a lot of things in my life, and am usually okay with that.
So I’m scheduled to graduate this June. It’s been an intense two years, but it’s been worth it, and I’ve been looking into different grad schools and programs with an eye towards a PhD. Yeah, I know. Crazy. Who’d have ever thought? I still wonder sometimes if I can pull it off, but that it’s even a legitimate possibility now is amazing.
So the thing is, this week my University
is dissolving dissolved my program. There was a chaotic few days of racing around, trying to get in with advisors and professors, and yes, it’s true, the program I had always considered my backup plan is now gone. Poof. Utterly gone. I had guaranteed admittance- and while I was hoping and praying for some of the other, higher-end schools, in the back of my head, I knew I had plan B. And that made me feel safe.
Now I’m hanging out in the breeze, and I have to find, apply, hold my breath and pray that some other schools decide I’m worth admitting and taking a chance on. Oh, yes, I know I should be able to find at least one- but that doesn’t change the fact that I find myself without answers, or even any certainty on where me and the kids will be living come fall. That’s a little unnerving.
Then I step back. Perhaps this is precisely what I needed- I was playing it safe, knowing there was a guaranteed spot for me in a mid-level state university. It’s possible that knowledge was a bit too much of a cushion, and I wasn’t necessarily risking what I needed to risk to find where I really need to be. I don’t know. But that’s how I’m going to look at it.
Now, the only thing I’m certain of is that the kids and I will be moving from our comfort zone here in eastern Washington, where we’ve lived for nine years, have gone through deaths and rebirths and landed in Little House, where we’ve healed and tended our wounds. Its time to leave the safety-zone, my friends.
It’s time to fly. Here’s hoping my wings are ready…