In going with the theme of pregnancy, this is where reality hits. I was ecstatic about getting an offer, seeing the stick I had pee'd on turn blue. Now, I'm doing the math and thinking this is mad, i.e. I can't afford to raise this kid. The question lies in do I give it up for adoption or keep it and maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised; translation: child genius.
There's a reason it's past 1:30am on a Tuesday night and my mind is still wide awake despite numerous libations I imbibed over the last 6 hours. I had a hard time sleeping last night because of the myriad of thoughts racing through my mind. They centered mostly around Australia and specifically my packing list. I can't help that I am a worrier and detail oriented, which makes the former a million times worse.
My first attempt at serious compensation negotiation failed miserably. Either the Australians are Nazi negotiators or I suck at negotiating. They shot me down in every avenue possible, down to the flight accomodations of coach versus business (my last ditch effort). Maybe my salary package is inflated acccording to their standards, but I'm an American and I think in USD terms, goddammit! The whole thing left me feeling defeated and questioning the life choice I am about to make.
I suppose I can be resourceful. I can pray to the housing gods that they will be kind to me and perhaps I will find a one-bedroom deal or non-psycho-lame CLEAN roommates. I've endured Christmas alone in a foreign land, what's another one under the belt. At least this one will be in English rather than Portugese. The only thing I am questioning is why am I so anxious for a change. Why am I leaving such a wonderful network of friends in San Diego to pursue this pipe dream I never had until a month ago? Am I crazy? All I see is difficulties ahead. Nothing makes sense, yet there is a strong desire to go because of fear of regret.
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