I Am Not Dorothy, and This Is Not Oz

So, yet again, I've been MIA for months. And I apologize. But over the past several weeks, I've been struggling with what to do with myself. And it's not an easy thing to figure out.

I majored in psychology in school. I have a shiny Bachelor's Degree in the field of Psychology. Which I love. It fascinates me to no end. People are intriguing. Psychology was absolutely and entirely enjoyable for me to study. However, in retrospect, I'm not sure it's the best field for me to make a career out of.

As you all may or may not know, I am an introvert. Hard core.

I enjoy learning about people and listening to people, but I don't do so well with talking to people. Especially not groups of people, as I discussed in a previous post.

I know being a psychologist doesn't necessarily mean I have to communicate with groups of people, but still, the ability to speak comfortably with strangers is kind of important. And I'm not so good at that. Not verbally anyway. I'm much more comfortable sitting at my computer and typing out words than I am sitting across from someone and chatting over coffee. (Which I actually drink now. On account of being a barista.)

So, after weeks of thinking, "did I waste four years of education on a degree I don't want to use?" I've become a little stressed out. On top of that, I had another birthday on March 31st, so I got to think "Wow...I'm another year older and I still have NO clue what to do with my life!"

Actually, I'm fine with my age. I'm not quite to the point of dreading birthdays. Yet. But what bothers me is how many people I know my age who are either a) in Grad school, b) working full-time, or c) getting married, while I am a) not in school at all, b) working part-time, and c) single and living at home. Which--by the way--is not as awful to me as it is to some people. My family and I get along really well. For the most part. And since they're kind enough to let me live here, "until [I'm] 112 if [I] need to," according to my dad, I am happy to take the offer. Just so you're all aware, I do not plan on living with my parents until I'm 112. 111, maybe, but 112 is just pushing it.

I jest.

I do plan on moving on with my life. I've just been stuck in the swirling chaos of my own mind for a while. I feel like Dorothy after getting sucked up by that tornado.

Unfortunately for me, my brain-tornado has not dropped me from a world of black and white into technicolor Munchkinland, onto a Wicked Witch with ruby slippers, and into the hearts of the Munchkins who had been living under her reign of terror. A kindly Good Witch traveling by bubble has not floated into my life and said "Follow the Yellow Brick Road to the Wizard of Oz, and he will solve all your problems." Also, I do not have a talking Cowardly Lion, Tin Man, and Scarecrow to be my friends on my epic journey to self-discovery. I do have a dog, but she's kind of lazy and wouldn't enjoy a long trek to an Emerald City all that much. She is good for a snuggle though.

All of this to say...pardon my absence. I'm just trying to find myself a little.