How Did I Get Here??

I've been a blogger for many years. To this day, most of them are unpublished and hidden in the interwebs. But I decided that for this new chapter of my life I would write a blog AND share it. Blogging is my therapy, and I'll be needing a lot of that in the upcoming semesters. I am GOING BACK TO SCHOOL... words I never, ever thought I'd utter again.

This particular blog is going to be long (I'm usually wordy, but this one will be worse). There's a lot of back story to explain why I'm here and doing something completely nutty like taking classes in my late 20s. So go ahead... get a drink and take a potty break. If you're truly interested in reading this part, you're in for a long ride.

I always knew I wanted more. What exactly MORE, I didn't know. I went to college right out of high school and got a crappy degree that shouldn't really count as a degree. I had an A+ scholarship and blew it, all because the school pissed me off. See, from middle school on I knew I wanted to be one thing: a court reporter. If anyone from "back in the day" is reading this, you probably remember this tidbit about me. And because I landed on my dream career at such a young age and didn't ever change my mind (I'm a decide-and-commit kinda girl).... I never explored any other options. So my senior year, they got rid of the program.
Just like that. Gone. There was a lack of interest, and they didn't have a need for it anymore. We tried, but I couldn't be grandfathered into the program. It was simply too late. In order to use my scholarship, I had to attend a community college in the state. The closest (and probably only) one with a court reporting program was in STL. I had ZERO interest in moving there. And in an instant, my destiny changed. Do I wish I had just moved eastward and done the dang thing? Nope. I really don't like change, and I really don't think I would've liked it there. It wasn't meant to be, for whatever reason. But what happens after that is a little painful, and some days makes me think my life is some kind of sick joke.

As of my senior year, I had a boyfriend who was going to school in St. Joseph, so I might've been swayed by the idea that I should stick around town to make sure things would work out. I was the one, after all, who thought I'd marry him (blah blah) and looking back, was the one who really tried to keep us together. Whatever. So there was that, plus the idea that I hadn't even considered moving away for school for ALL THESE YEARS. So I froze... and then I got pissed. I meeeeean, PISSED. How in the hell could they do this to me?! What was I going to do now?? I kinda wish my parents had been more aggressive toward my life direction, because you never know. And in this case, something did change, and it wasn't my mind. But since I had never explored any other options, I literally didn't know what to do or where to start. I went ahead with the enrolling process and all that crap... grudgingly. I just can't describe how angry I was with this school. So my freshman year, I'm taking all those BS classes that you take just to say you're in school. One day, my mom (who worked for the college) tells me that if I don't declare a major, I'll lose my scholarship. This scholarship, mind you, was paying for tuition AND books. I had mere lab fees, and I'm almost certain my mom covered those the couple semesters I had them. I think my response was, "I don't care, pick one." And that she did.
Of course, she made me agree to it before she changed it. It sounded easy enough and I was sure I'd be good at it. What I DIDN'T think through was that it was as pointless as underwater basket weaving, and that it would get me crap for jobs (and money). I was officially going to receive an AAS in Office Administration. It was the same degree my mom had, but she grew up in a different time. She got jobs and made money, and would eventually work her way up the ladder. By the time she "retired" (I use that loosely because she's still working, even in the same field), she was making decent money and still really enjoyed what she did. All it meant for me was being beat out for jobs by people who had never gone to school but had more experience than me. I worked for an animal clinic for 4 years and always wanted to go to massage school. I knew I wasn't going places being a secretary. So I did just that.

In 2006 (3.5 years after graduating SFCC) I started commuting to KC twice a week. I picked MTTI because it was close-ish and would allow me to work quite a few hours while still going to school. It was a crap commute, but I ended up with a carpool. That helped a lot. For a solid year, we drove 90 minutes one way (hit rush hour both ways) and went to school for 9 hours. I quickly decided I wanted to land in the medical field doing massage, leaning toward physical therapy or chiropractic. What I wasn't told was that those jobs don't exist. Thanks to insurance, PT won't touch LMTs (they tend to do their own "massage") and chiropractors didn't have a need for us. *sigh* I thought I had a job lined up with a local chiro, who would later completely screw me over. I sent out dozens of resumes with no return. Then, a girl from my carpool told me that the local spa would need a part time MT. Welp, I guess if I wanted to do massage, this was my shot. That, my friends, is how I ended up at Bodyworks... where I currently work. And until a few months ago, I was working 60 hours between there and some crappy office job just so I could have some benefits AND be paid enough to survive. This crap is for the birds, y'all.

See, the difference in me and a lot of people I know is how I was raised. From a very young age, I was expected to provide some things for myself. I started working at the fair when I was 14 to pay for my school clothes. By the time I was 16, I worked at a fast food place across the street for a car and insurance. And so on. I was never handed anything. I never had help, except for my parents letting me live at home. I guess that's quite a bit of help. But I couldn't seem to move out because I was paying for student loans and a car payment, insurance, cell phone, some credit cards, and so on. I lived with them until I was 24 despite all the hateful comments I got about it. I was an adult, alright... I just never got the chance to move out on my own because I had to pay for stuff where I was!

By the time I moved out, I was working two jobs. That really didn't change for 4+ years. The final straw was when I got a job at a medical (slave driving) office working 40 hours, and kept 20 hours at the spa. That went on for over two years. Now, keep in mind that I've been looking for the ideal office job for nearly 5 years now. But I took what I could get, knowing it wasn't permanent and hoping that something came along soon. This job destroyed me, little by little. I became a person I didn't know anymore-- depressed, sad, angry, jaded.... you get it. I've never been treated so horribly at a job before, and I prayed for the place to burn down EVERYDAY. I don't wish that place on my worst enemy (....ok, well maybe SOME enemies). There were a lot of days that I didn't want to live, because if this is ALL life has to offer me, I'd rather be dead. It was a terrible place, I tell ya. Everyone around me tried to stay positive, but you can only hear "It'll get better soon" so many times before you can't hear it anymore. Because it never did. I finally contacted my manager at the spa and said, "If I walk out right now, how many hours can you give me there?" At the time, the answer was "nothing more than you have." But within a couple months, a full time position opened up and I snatched it up. Two weeks later, I had my last day in hell and started going to my part-time-for-four-years job full time. If anything, I knew I could stand to work at the spa. I didn't like that I wouldn't have health insurance or sick leave, but these are the sacrifices you make to keep yourself sane and happy.

As of April 2012, I worked 5 days a week for Bodyworks. They knew that I would continue looking for a full time clerical job that would give me the benefits I need as a single person. And I did just that-- I came home everyday and checked all of my online sources for job openings. I had almost everyone I knew aware that I was looking so they could inform me of any openings. I applied when I could, and when I couldn't... well, I just remembered that at least I wasn't miserable in my job and that something would come along. I'm sure that a lot of my friends and family got sick of me talking about it. After all, I was sitting at 5 years of job searching. But one day I was having a quarrel with this guy (to remain unnamed) who had been around pre-massage school. In his anger, he told me that I was looking for a job that was never going to come along. I guess from an outsider's POV, it looked that way. I mean, when is enough, enough?? His solution, of course, was for me to move to him (STL-- ironic??) but that just wasn't an option for me, again. Good grief, life is cycling!!! And of course when I read these words, I was pissed. How dare he!!! Jerk.
....Jerk. Dick. Ugh. Mean person.

While that jerk didn't convince me that what I was doing was WRONG, he did plant the idea in my head that maybe just maybe I should consider another route. What if that job never DID come along? What if ten years from now I was still rubbing on people 40 hours a week and hoping for some health insurance to come along? And worse, not have a dime saved for retirement. I don't think my location has anything to do with it-- jobs are scarce everywhere, and the field I'm qualified for has a million other qualified people applying for the same jobs as me. It's a very exhausting, depressing situation when you think about it. Way to go, economy!

I had tossed around the idea of going back to school a lot of times. But I didn't know for what. I kept waiting for SOMETHING to knock me over the head and say, "Hey, this is what you wanna do with your life..." but nothing ever did. Going back to school seemed pointless if you didn't know for what, right? Well, every time I got literature from the local college, I'd sit down with it to see if anything caught my eye. I remember seeing "sonography program coming soon!" and just kinda filing it away. Little by little, I did some research on the profession. I checked the school's website for information and found nothing. Hm, confusing. Apparently it was SO new, they hadn't even found a director for it, much less published prerequisites. If I had my way, all of this would've started last semester. But I tried to sign up for classes and got a bunch of confused looks and conflicting answers about classes. I decided holding off would be best because I didn't want to waste time on a class I maybe didn't need.

It was probably best that I didn't start then, because now that the haze has cleared I have a much better vision of what's to come. The dust has settled at the college and they have the program mapped out. I know exactly what I need to take now. It has given me time to really think things through and become realistic about the whole process. If I'm going to commit to this, and REALLY try to get into this program (and I AM), I'll be left with one option:

I'll have to move home.

When the day comes that I'm in the intensive program and unable to work (except for Saturdays, maybe), I'll need money to pay my bills with. It doesn't make sense to live in an apartment when I can be saving all that money to survive on down the road. The big move won't happen until after this first semester, though. I need just a little more time on my own. And let's face it: the less time I have to spend there, the better. I don't want to do this, and I'm sure my parents aren't thrilled about it either. But if it means that when I'm finished, I'm able to support myself and be comfortable, then we're all for it!

I have signed up for classes and start in TWO DAYS! It's all very surreal, and I really can't believe I'm doing this again. I'm excited, nervous, terrified, and even feel a little crazy. I hope that you'll follow me on this insane journey of self-discovery and growth. It's bound to be entertaining most days.
If you're still reading this, you're quite the trooper. Give yourself a pat on the back, my friend.