As of whatever-time this morning, it's official: I did not get a psychology internship, will not be completing my doctorate within the next few years. This is okay. Really. It's fine. It's what I was hoping for this time around, given the weird-badness of the one interview I had, and my basic decision that I've changed my life plans and goals and hopes and aspirations, and the idea of working 60-hour weeks in order to get one more diploma is not right for me. Maybe it will be someday... but not now.

What is going to drive me insane about this is people's insistence on feeling sorry for me, pitying, sad, disappointed, whatever. My mother, my former classmates, even my husband have made sure to tell me that they're, in some form or another, not thrilled at the direction my life has taken. Which is fine, they can feel however they need to feel - but most of them are insisting on feeling bad FOR me, as though somewhere deep within my soul I must be weeping and wailing, and I'm just putting on a brave front now. So they're feeling sorry for me, and I'm not being cooperatively miserable. I've stopped trying to convince them that I'm content, even happy, with the turn of events.

So, that's that. I'm a little frustrated at my inability to effectively put my thoughts and feelings into words about the whole situation, but otherwise I'm fine. It's nice to have confirmation and an end to it all. Last year, I went through what's called the Clearinghouse, which is basically when all of the sites with empty intern slots and all of the interns without placements jostle in a chaotic and demeaning manner to get something, anything. I found it more stressful than any other part of the process, and I didn't get a placement anyway. So I won't be doing that to myself again. I'm just done. Amen.