MAMACADABRA

In the fall of 1993 I was a senior in high school and I was trying to decide on the colleges to which I would apply.  There were the obvious ones and then there was the one at which my neighbor Jeff was currently a freshman.  The University of Iowa.  My mom and I visited that fall and it was everything I thought a college should be.  Big, gorgeous, a river and bluffs, large old mansions housing the greek system, a fabulous political science program, and an even better law school.  Oh…and Jeff.  My neighbor.  The one who was going to the University of Iowa pre-med.  The one who introduced me to Metallica and the finer points of Guns ‘n Roses.  The one whose initials in combination with my own made-up every password I used for every single thing until just a few years ago.  Swoon.

I applied to several schools and hoped for the best.  My girlfriend EY and I went to visit again in the spring and my mind was made-up.  THIS was the school for me.  I would start that fall, finish in four years (ahem), go on to law school, and a mere seven or eight years later I’d be dating Jeff who would now be a doctor and I’d be a lawyer, and we’d live happily ever after listening to 80’s and 90s’s rock.  It was going to be perfect.

The time it took the schools to respond seemed like forever.  I waited, and waited, and waited.  I received word back from every school EXCEPT the University of Iowa.  I was a maniac.  I couldn’t stand it.  Plans needed to be made damn it!  What was TAKING them so long?!

As the weather turned warmer, and all of my classmates knew where they were going, I still didn’t.  One particular week I got sick.  I have crazy a-s dreams when I’m sick and this time was no exception.  In one of them I dreamt that a voice was telling me I had gotten into the University of Iowa.  I woke up the next day and all of the anxiety and aniticipation was gone.  I just knew I’d be accepted.  I calmed down and enjoyed the many end of year activities.

Not a week later I received my letter of acceptance.

I’ve always had faith.  Sometimes I’ve had faith in things that seemed questionable at the time but I always held onto it.  When I was fat I always knew I’d slim down.  When my marriage felt like it was in shambles I still had faith (sometimes less than others) that if we really worked at it we could figure it out.  I’ve had great faith in people, relationships, The Secret, and myself.

Yes, so about that…of all the things in which I’ve had great faith…I sometimes don’t hold on tightly enough to my faith in myself.  There are days (or sometimes weeks…or months) when I feel like a failure.  Or like people are looking at me and thinking I’m ridiculous.  Or that I will never again be at the fitness level I once was.  Or that I will continue to be in jobs that I don’t love because a) this is the career path I chose and I can no longer go back in salary, or b) I’ll never be able to do THIS for a living.

Something changed for me the other day.  I don’t know what triggered it or what it means but suddenly my faith in myself and my future are completely revived.  I feel pretty strongly, with absolutely no signs or proof, that something big is coming.  Something with my career.  At work I’ve been involved in a pretty time intensive project all week.  Morale is low.  People are being rude to each other and if it were any other time I would be really frustrated.  But I’m not.  I’m calm.  And collected.  I’ve been unflappable at work because…something big is coming.  Big.  Huge.  Amazing.

I’m excited and I can’t wait, and I may sound like I’m either a) dillusional or b) full of sh-t, but it’s neither here nor there because very very soon something big is going to happen!

TODAY:  What if, despite a lack of any tangible proof, I keep the faith that something big is coming my way?  What if I need to be more protective of the faith I have in myself?

PS – I never know if everyone will get the references when I use song lyrics in my titles.  So I guess if you see a title that makes no sense…Google it.  It’s likely lyrics to a Foreigner or George Michael or Bel Biv Devoe song.

PPS – For those of you who read yesterday’s post, allow me to share with you my complete and utter frustration with the fact that my dog just came in the house smelling like dead fish.  So.  Gross.