On back-sliding after Bible College

Before I left for school, I was a bundle of nerves; anxious at what un-dreamed of adventures lay ahead, and even more anxious to leave behind my seemingly dead-end existence. I was working two jobs, as a librarian and a barista. 50 hour work weeks melted, indistinguishable from one another, in the unrelenting San Diego sunlight. By the time I actually made up my mind to go to Calvary Chapel Bible College, I was so hungry for it, not because I felt drawn to that certain school (though I undoubtedly was), but what I most craved was something other than what I'd been doing for so long. Change is both the thing I crave most and my most feared enemy. School was amazing and unlike anything I could have imagined, it destroyed me and rebuilt me over and over again, for four semesters. As anticipated, I learned things that shook my world and changed me from the inside out. It took me from the desert oasis of Murrieta, to the rainy, gothically romantic York, England. And my last semester was spent in the only actual Emerald City that exists; Seattle. Truths I had never expected to learn unfurled from the pages of books, the lectures from my teachers, and the lips of friends I would still die or kill for. The metamorphosis I've undergone these past two years seemed like the transformation one would expect from the brothers Grimm, or a Hans Christian Anderson fable. Only, instead of the ugly ducking turning into a swan, it turned into a pegasus- something entirely incomparable to what it once was. That's what it felt like to the winged horse, anyway. But most of what the Lord changed in me over the years weren't necessarily such physically discernable mutations. People at home, family and friends I'd known for years weren't looking at me with sidelong glances, wondering who I was and where the hell the real Isabeau was hiding. This was not the invasion of the body snatchers. It was almost disappointing; I thought that having a deeper relationship with Jesus and having a healthier prayer life would result in some kind of holy, pure, external glow. (I wasn't expecting a halo or anything- but more like the visage of Stephen when he was on trial and his face shone "like an angel.") I thought people would see heaven in me. I expected some sort of NT (New Testament) transfiguration. I once considered myself a realist, but saying these things now brings me back to the reality that I am, in fact, a dreamer (or maybe I'm just one of those overly-romantic homeschooled girls who needs to lay off the Jane Austen and Bronte sisters for a while...) And the crushing, foolishly unexpected blow of reality keeps pummeling away, gnawing at my cheekbones like a starving dog on his own leg. Two life-changing years gone by, and here I am. Where am I? Living in my parent's house, working at a coffee shop as a barista, and at a library. Now, if that doesn't sound like Square 1... I know we can never really retreat, go back, it's impossible that I'm back at Square 1, still I can't help but feel disappointed. Disappointment in myself, mainly. However, I can't decide if I'm disappointed in myself because I'm in the same position I was before Bible college, or because I thought I wouldn't be. I feel like my despair is a bad testimony against my faith. I feel if I share these things, people will say in their pious pretense that I "just need to have faith" and I "just need to pray more" and basically everything else I know already, which I'm struggling with at this moment. I don't want someone to come up with a fail-safe remedy or recipe for my problem. That's no one's job but mine. I need you, Jesus, come to my rescue.