Everything happens for a reason.
I always used to say that I believed this.. used to. Through for much of my young adult and adult life I couldn’t figure out why my road went the way it had. Part of me still wanted to hold onto the notion that somewhere written in the stars (and not by some deity, for I am absolutely nonreligious – but if that’s your thing, rock on.) I wanted to believe that with every set back and misstep and unexplainable unfortunate occurrence that there was some lesson to be learned.
There’s a reason why this year had gone the way it had. I kind of get it now.
For the past few months, I’ve been completely heartbroken regarding the trajectory of my life. I had been betrayed, unsupported, and thrown to a curb like a stray dog. For the past six rollercoaster months, I’ve felt like a passenger with zero say on the construction of the tracks or the speed of the car; I was headed into a brick wall with no emergency break. The end of the year was like ripping off a three year bandaid: 1 part vindication and about 8,000 parts utter misery. I felt as though I had lost everything of value in my life.
And then, the tide had turned again.
Much to my own surprise, I was able to relet my apartment in one week and move out in two. I was selected for a new job the day after my previous contract had ended, and within this new district, the board of education approved their contract the day after I had my second interview (a contract which was in limbo since April of 2015). I am now employed at my alma mater, the dream I once had after meeting the best teacher I’d ever known.
Someone’s looking out for me, and she’s steering my car from crashing.