Sunday, September 16, 2018
It feels weird to be back in this space writing again; it feels weird to write, if I'm being honest. I have largely avoided it during the latter half of school, maybe in part due to a perceived lack of time and in part due to a lack of what to say and how to say it. It's been a lot of avoidance on my part, a lack of desire to confront my feelings and who I've become in recent years.
I am finally on the other side of graduate school and am at the culmination of all that I have desired. My career as a nurse practitioner has just begun, and I am lucky to be working with some of the most wonderful geriatricians and geriatric NPs that I could ask for. It's funny about dreams though. Dream jobs, specifically. They have a way of looking really shiny and bright when they are the object of your desire, but then once you're closer up, they're fuzzy, difficult to grasp hold of, blurred. At first, I thought that maybe dream jobs were just of dreams, not something we were meant to grasp on this side of eternity. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that just because they are shiny and bright and exactly what you want to be doing, they still require hard work and refinement and a bit of elbow grease.
These days, I spend two hours in my car every day driving to and from my dream job. Sometimes more than that, if I don't get to leave Indianapolis by a decent time and get caught in terrible traffic. I always told myself that I would travel two hours every day for a job I loved, but that I would never do it for a job I just felt mediocre about. I still think I love the job I am doing, but Lord knows it's more difficult than I imagined.
The hardest thing for me is finding my sense of optimism again. It is disheartening and discouraging every time someone says, "You drive HOW far?" or comments on my drive somehow. Believe me, it took me a long enough time to convince myself that this drive would be normal; trying to convince others that it's fine takes all of my energy. When I think about it really, though, the drive isn't half bad. I actually am growing to love my morning commute-- I sip coffee, listen to an audiobook or podcast, and take the time I need in the morning to prepare for my day. The evenings are another story-- sometimes I am angry and tired and ready to be home. But if I can learn to love my morning commute enough, I think I can make it.
But as for my dreams, they live on. I think I thought of my dreams as a final destination, a landing place for me once I escaped school. Now, I realize that dreams aren't necessarily a landing spot, but a dynamic journey where you passions are ever-growing and evolving.