Ahh, that's better.
I have one month of school left. Did I say that already? I don't remember. Here's the thing with nursing school: the struggle is never over. Even when that final has been turned in and you're faced with a whole summer of possibilities ahead of you, you can't exhale. The stress is overwhelming and the uncertainty is debilitating. I guess that's the point of nursing school. They stress you out, have you pick yourself up, you learn to adapt, because really, we need sturdy nurses. So, here I am, once again learning to adapt.
When I had my LPN training, the stress was excruciating. People threw up before finals. Hair loss was as common as weight gain. It's not so bad this time around, probably because it's a lot of "been there, done that". Still, here I am at the end of a semester, wondering where the last 3 months of my life have been, and what the aftermath of this semester will be. Will I pass? Yeah, I'm not worried about that. Will I be the same as when I started? No, because stuff like this makes you grow, whether you like it or not. I can already see a change in classmates. There's a abundance of confidence, despite the pressure that we receive through the program. We're becoming educators, advocates, and real nurses before our eyes. Will I be able to focus on the small things, suck the marrow out of this summer, and relax? I hope so, I really hope so. Will my dog forgive me for the lack of adventures this spring has produced? Yeah, because that's what's so great about puppy dogs.
One more, just to get my fix.
I'm having one of those funky days today. Days that seem to go by too fast, and at the same time drag on. Where you want to soak up as much sunlight as possible, but desire so greatly to crawl in bed and shut everything out. I have days like this every so often. I use to have them daily, but have managed to keep them at bay with various coping mechanisms.
Trying desperately to stay out of the funk, I'm sitting here with the blinds wide open, focusing on the sunshine in the aftermath of the afternoon rain, smiling at little puddles and raindrops on green leaves, thinking about great things that are possible for this evening (painting toenails bright pink, playing with a energetic puppy on the stairs, and watching LOST), while Kelle Hampton's blog is open on my browser, so I can just listen to what's playing on her page. I'm trying so hard. Think good thoughts. Turn the music up. Dance around the room. Get outside and breathe that rain air in.
The problem with funky days and Harrisburg? I don't have any place to escape to. I don't have an ocean to confide in. I can't bury my feet in the sand and count the clouds. Forests are still bare and don't have ancient Evergreens for me to confide in. Point-no-Point is so far away. The city that inspires me is in another time zone. And that makes me so incredibly sad sometimes. As much as I love my guy and am inspired by where he's from, I can't deny how much of me is because of where I am from. We are all like that. That's what this blog is ultimately about. It's written all over these pages.
So instead of Pike Place and the Olympic Mountains, I'll find solace in parts of my past that came with me. Jason Mraz music will life up my soul and spark that dancing girl. I'll stare at the little peas and corns and thyme that are springing up from the soil that I planted them in 3 weeks ago. I'll make my bed and wrestle with my pup on it's white covers. And maybe tonight, while I'm watching the best show of all time (next to Buffy, I'll admit it), I'll not only dream about those forests and about sleeping under it's canopy and starry sky, but I'll plan something. A camping trip, a hike, a menu of food that tastes best when cooked on an open flame.
And, if I'm lucky, maybe I'll fall asleep to the rain, and forget where I'm not for awhile.
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