The Valencia me

My short-lived Boston dreams are over. I just learned that the position He-weasel applied for has been filled. The Valencia me is feeling very sad, disappointed and otherwise grumpy. This was so perfect. This was what I wanted. I was sure this was going to be the one. We were finally going to get out of Valencia.

Prior to learning the bad Boston news, I had already been feeling a little mood indigo. For the last two weekends I have been in all day test prep classes that kept me away from my He-weasel. His work schedule, as of late, has been such that he is gone before I get up in the morning and he is in bed almost a half hour after he gets home, so weekends are the only time I get to see him. But thanks to Marriage and Family Therapy test prep classes I haven't seen him even on weekends and instead have spent it learning ways to approach an exam that is so maddening, confusing and anxiety producing that I am feeling sure that the exam was created to serve as a deterrent from California having too many psychotherapists.

To make things worse I have a raging case of PMS, Chicago homesickness, claustrophobia induced by our postage stamp sized apartment and the reemergence of the 16 year old me that has a propensity for eye rolling, audible huffs and puffs, and extremely dramatic body language. The return of the 16 year old me was constellated by having the most irritating and least bright would-be therapist in the state of California sit next to me at the test prep class(even though I put my stuff all over the chair and the desk next to me and went as far as putting my feet on the chair so as to make it PERFECTLY clear that I wanted to be left alone. Yet, my dim and obtuse classmate made a bee line straight for me and seemed attracted to my non-verbal demands to be neighborless. My silent rage at his presence seemed to only fuel his desire to chat with me while the teacher lectured which only made me angrier and so the cycle continued ).

This guy was so annoying that I had other students in the class invite me to come to sit next to them just so I could be a little further away from him as he clearly had a colossal case of cooties. A fellow classmate and I, in attempt to prepare for the exam, felt compelled to diagnose this guy. We concluded that he had "Annoying personality disorder"( You won't find this diagnosis in the DSM-IV and yet there is no question that such a personality type exists). My annoying classmate also FREQUENTLY disproved the well loved academy theory that there are no stupid questions. Stupid questions were asked at frequent and regular intervals. And, annoying guy, if you are reading this, it is my professional, if unlicensed, opinion that if after completing a Masters degree in counseling psychology and 3000 clinical hours if you don't know the difference between major depression and dysthymia you ought to consider another career. Perhaps toll booth operator?

Between the Boston news, the PMS, He-weasel deprivation, and my clueless classmate I am feeling really rotten. I no longer feel hope or expectation. I am no longer waiting for the phone call that will change our life and announce our Boston move. I am back in disappointment, grief, and some mild hopelessness. The Valencia me is not in the mood to study or workout or do anything in the least bit constructive or productive. Today there will be chocolate, naps, bad TV, J Crew online shopping and a temper tantrum or two in which I will grieve the Boston me that might have been.