Have you ever been out running errands in your favorite pair of jeans, when all the sudden you realize they aren’t fitting like they used to? I’m going to put this bluntly people, so try not to be offended. The cold hard truth is my butt isn’t holding up like it used to. I came home and decided to put them at the bottom of my drawer. Then I went out and ran several miles.
I’m having a bit of an identity crisis at the moment. At one point today, I was my own hairdresser, and trimmed my bangs. That never goes quite like I want. Later in the day I actually pulled a recipe off the internet, as if I enjoyed cooking, and then opened an email from my mom that had cute pictures of baby animals with witty sayings. It was at that point I think I hit rock bottom. Wait, no, I think my lowest point was discovering I have a huge butt.
Billy’s been working from home quite a bit lately, so that’s a nice distraction when I get bored and need him to make me some coffee or replace the children’s bathroom sink. He’s had an awful wicked bug for the last 24 hours, and without violating his HIPPA rights, all I will say is that if swimsuit season started tomorrow, he’d be ready. I thought about trying to use my new nursing license by giving him a head to toe assessment, then finding out his pain scale, following up with questions about his hydration status. But as I laid on the couch, I thought, “If I give him free nursing care, everyone is going to expect that”. Sometimes you have to establish healthy boundaries right from the start.
Anyway, all that to say things are weird around here. The kids are back in school, I’ve passed my nursing boards, and all I am doing is puttering around here while waiting around to get a job. And that doesn’t mean I’m not looking. Every day I spend quite a bit of time scouring the internet, looking at job opportunities, and applying wherever I can. If I want to move to North Dakota or Pennsylvania, I’m guaranteed a job. Billy says I’d freeze in both places, so I guess those options are out. I’m not giving up however. I’ve made several calls and sent emails. I’ve tasted rejection, which in turn has led me to chocolate, which might be part of the aforementioned problem (aka: my huge butt)
My sister and I were texting briefly this morning, and she reminded me that when she became a nurse, it took her a few months to get a job too. It was comforting to hear that, and helped me to lower my expectations a little bit. She also mentioned that I should think about getting a puppy to give me a purpose. And if not a puppy, maybe a miniature pony. Both very good ideas.
If nothing else, this quiet season of life has given me time to be introspective. After five minutes of solitude, I learned a valuable lesson about myself. Sitting around thinking isn’t my thing. I’m a doer, not a thinker. I’ve always been that way, but especially now after two years of nursing school, my whole mind, body, and soul wants to constantly be on the go. People keep telling me to relax, and enjoy some time off. They’ve said “you deserve it, so just go celebrate”. The problem is I just spent two years learning, and I’m afraid if I sit too long, I might start to forget everything I just learned. Nursing skills are something you want to maintain, from what I hear. You don’t want to be out of it long enough to forget what hole that the tubes go in or come out. You don’t want to forget how much oxygen a person should be on, or how to administer medications. Nursing is precise and important, and I’m excited to be out there using my newfound knowledge, as well as gaining skills.
But life doesn’t always give us what we want, does it? Sometimes we have to sit on the sidelines and be patient. This is hard to do, in a world that tells me if I don’t have a title, than I’m not very important. It’s a lie I know I’ve bought into once or twice, or a hundred times. So for as long as God wants, I will try to be content in the waiting, and trust that the right job will come along at the perfect time. Until then I will run as many miles as it takes to wear my favorite jeans again. Maybe I’ll volunteer at the kids’ school, or volunteer for hospice. Maybe I’ll even step up and make some chicken noodle soup for my poor Billy. No matter what I do, I will wait with anticipation knowing that story for me has already been written, and the plans for me are good.