I was chatting with my sister last night, and we talked about the job interview I had yesterday. She asked if I was nervous at all. I thought for a second, then answered truthfully, “Not really. I either get the job or I don’t.”
I was thinking about that all night long. This is very unusual for me. I am a worrier. I especially worry about things that are out of my control, like, just to mention a few things that I have talked about on this blog, if my hypothetical children will have major depressive disorder like I do, if Roberto Roman will decide he wants to be a Mexican citizen after all and cause a huge international incident, if my kneecap is broken and I don’t have money to go to the doctor to get it checked out, if anybody reads and enjoys this blog… well, you get the picture.
So you can see why it’s strange that I’ve taken this attitude about getting this job. Yes, I want it. Yes, I think I’d totally rock in it. I love the location of the company. I love the hours I’d be working. I even actually enjoyed talking to the interviewers yesterday, and felt comfortable around them. (!) I stated it yesterday, and I’ll say it again; if my references pull through for me, I think I’ve got the job. My future is totally out of my hands at this point. I know I’ve done the best I can, and I’m just waiting.
Maybe it’s the Lexapro. Maybe I’m growing up. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m really not worried about what happens next.