Ch-ch-ch-Changes!

This is the 3rd blog post I've attempted to make in the past week or so. I've wanted it to be more than just a bulleted update list, and I haven't really felt like digging into deep, meaningful feelings. I also have no funny stories to share, not that the majority would find funny at least. So, in order to scratch the "blogging itch" I will give an update-I just won't bullet it. Maybe once I begin, thought will flow. ;)
I accepted a job in Columbus last Thursday. It seems strange to be moving home so soon, and we are sad to be leaving Birmingham. We really enjoy it here. Close enough to home to shoot down for a visit, but far enough away to feel like we're on our own.

It's been a tough almost-year together, I mean, we lived in a camper for 4 months, but still enjoyable. Our fist year of marriage is almost gone. We made it (though, admittedly, there were times that it didn't seem like we would make it through the night). It's so true what they say about how being married to someone puts them in a different light. I mean, who in a million years would predict that one day, there would be an argument about dryer lint? No one. That's who. But it happens. You fuss about the dyer lint. And where somebody does or doesn't put their shoes. Trivial things. And it's funnier still, how some days, those trivial things are so endearing. It's almost cute how he always leaves toothpaste in the sink. And other days, it's enough to make you want to rip your (or his) hair out. It's always so much cleared in retrospect that it really wasn't the shoes, or the dryer lint, or the toothpaste. It was something deeper. Something else was wrong, but sometimes, feelings are so hard to name, so hard to pin down, and it's easier to be mad about the trivial thing. The thing that is sometimes cute.

I feel like, come May 22, while we eat our year old cake, we can be happy with all we've done and been through together. Our first year of marriage was not always easy, certainly nothing I'd ever imagine. Did I mention the camper? For 4 months? And how we lived on $100 for a month? And how we couldn't run the microwave and the AC at the same time? (It seems so funny now). And, God bless David, we made it through my last semester of classes, and comps. I assure you, I wasn't so easy to deal with for the months of October-December.

I don't mean to make it sound all bad. Because, by all means, it hasn't been. Those have been our hiccups. Our little glitches in the programming. We've come out of them stronger. Stronger together, and that's what counts. We've learned so much about each other. What we need as individuals and as a single unit in order to thrive. We've learned so much about giving. About giving fully of yourself, and how when you don't do that, when you each give 50%, thinking it will make 100%, you really only feel 50% filled.

And now it seems, we're returning home. I don't mind it. I could have accepted a job in Tallahassee just as easily. We picked Columbus because it's still home. We want to be a part of our niece and nephew's lives, our family's lives. And it will be nice one day to have grandparents close enough to babysit. It's just hard packing up again. And I mean that literally. I've moved at least once, every 9 months, for the past 4 years. Last summer alone I moved 3 times. I also mean that figuratively. The majority of my friends are in this area. I've lived here for 4 years, and I've had the closest friendships of my life here. And I'm so afraid to loose that. I've always been able to make friends quickly. I'm outgoing, giggle easily, and am a bit of a joiner. I won't turn down too many invitations. Keeping friends is where it comes more difficulty for me. I tend to become so absorbed in what's going on where I am, that I don't reach out to those far away. One of my dearest friends lives only 45 minutes from me, and we hardly see each other. This does not bode well for me moving 3 hours from her. So I guess I will just have to keep that in mind. Make a million times extra effort to talk to, and to see, my friends, while making new ones.

The waiting game

Well, as any of you who follow me on Twitter know, the all so stressful job hunt has begun.
Birmingham has relatively few options for a gal like myself who just couldn't stomach a nursing home, so I sent my application/resume to everyone else and was rejected quite promptly by most of them. Due to the recession, and the fact that I will be completing my Fellowship year, places just aren't interested.
I have had a few good leads. I'm still in the process of filling out my application for Children's Hospital...I'm on about page 20 now. And I had a follow up interview Friday afternoon at Easter Seals (a not-for-profit therapy and vocational rehab organization working with children through adults with special needs).
I am currently waiting on the call to see if I got the job...or not. I've had my phone glued to my side all day today (per my supervisor's permission) and have literally almost vomited any time I heard a phone ring in my proximity. I mean, I've felt the burn in my throat. Tasted it. It feels a lot like waiting on my acceptance letter into graduate school. Only bigger.
The thing is, since I really only have 2 options in this area, David and I have discussed relocating.
The longer I await the phone call, the more real this possibility becomes. On the one hand, I'm excited about the thought of moving somewhere we've never been, and experiencing that together (Tallahassee, Pensacola, and Savannah respectively-Oh, and Columbus too), but on the other hand. That means David leaving his job so I can have one. And leaving our friends. And just the plain fact of moving again, just a short 9 months after our last move. If this job doesn't work out, then I'm not entirely sure what we're going to do. Where we will end up.
So right now. We're just waiting.

My Heart is Full and Happy

A friend walked back into my life today. A friend, that several months ago, was no longer a friend. Was a painful memory. Memories of my own faults. Of the fragile nature of human relationships.
The memory and tears of our friendship crumbling are still painful. We were both facing difficult times in our lives, and when the breaking point was reached, we took the easy road and we broke. There were tears, and there was anger, and hurt and apologizes and pride that got in the way of every good thing.
But now, thank God, we've seen through the other stuff, seen through the hurt and the anger and the things that were said. We've reached through it all and found the love. The powerful love of a friend. A real friend.

The first 8 weeks

Well, I did it. I made it through my first 8 weeks of my internship (okay, I've finished 7 weeks and the 8th is the one I'm on now...). For better understanding, here is a lowdown on how our graduate program works:

1st semester (Fall): 4 classes and 2-3 clients on campus-all kids-you're tired a lot, but doing okay...
2nd semester (spring): 4 classes that are really hard, 2-3 clients on campus-kids and adults, or diagnostics-you're really tired, and beginning to feel the pressure and the stress is building, spring break gets you through, but just barely. everyone is beginning to look frazzled.
3rd semester (Summer): 2 classes that meet everyday for 2 weeks, another 2 classes that meet everyday for 2 weeks, with a weekend in between. Clinic consists of off-campus opportunities, on campus clients and/or diagnostics. You feel like they've started sucking out your soul.
Break! (2 weeks)
4th semester (Fall of 2nd year): 3 classes, on campus clients with off campus clients, or just off campus 3 days a week. COMPS. You feel like they have sucked your soul out and put it through a woodchipper.
5th semester (Spring of your 2nd year): They give your soul back! Two 8 week internships, one at a medical setting and the other at a school. It's a lot of work, but it's fun. And you're finally doing something you love (at least part of the time).

So anyway, I'm about to finish my first 8 week internship. I've been at a High School and I have loved every second of it! I can't wait to start at the outpatient rehab center I will be at next.
It really is just so wonderful to come home in the evenings and have time to relax. Time to clean. To cook. To enjoy being married to a wonderful man. David really was great through it all. He was patient. He put in extra work around the house. He didn't kill me when we both thought I was going crazy. And now that all that is over.

I feel like a different person now. Maybe it's just because it's been a very, very, long time since I haven't had the responsibility of school work. Whatever it is though, I'm glad for it. I love this new feeling. This new me.