A Note on Change

A note on change, on finding yourself, rediscovering yourself, and revisiting old haunts as a new human. (The first thing I've written in a WHILE that's made it out of the draft and for-my-eyes-only journal-esque folder --Hi everyone!)

Tomorrow I start a 13 week contract at a hospital I worked at in December of 2014. It was an assignment that I took last minute, and which moved me from the Bay area to Los Angeles. At the time I was planning on staying 13 weeks, making some money, and then going back up north where traditionally the travel money is better. That was three years ago, and here I sit in my own West Hollywood apartment.

The contract this time was again last minute after a sudden change at a previous assignment. Such is the life of a travel nurse. Let's get the "I'm dreading-s" out of the way real quick. It's night shift, both a pro and a con because night-shift people are my people. Working night shifts is my absolute jam. Love everything about it. The reason it's in the dreading section is that my days off (four per week, so a majority my life) I feel like death warmed over and the only thing I have the energy to do is make it from my bed to the couch. It also means that I'll be precisely in the center of LA rush hour traffic -both getting to and home from work. It's only 17.6 miles, but in LA we don't measure distance in miles, we measure it in time. Which means it's approximately two hours away. No joke. Also, I hated the hospital. Since leaving the first assignment I had there I have deterred several nurses from going there because "it's an unsafe 3rd world refugee camp, an absolute danger zone for your license."

Now, because I like to focus on the positive, let's count the blessings. First of all, it's a job. And it pays well. The travel options are rough right now for some reason. There are many travelers who don't have a contract at all. I'm extremely blessed to have a job, let alone to have a job that let's me stay in the city I've fallen in love with --I don't have to move, change my yoga studio, hair team, coffee shop, the palm trees, the near-continual sunshine, meal-delivery plan, etc. Second of all, I loved the people that I worked with when I was there before. Third of all, the travel nurses mantra, "it's only 13 weeks. I can do anything for 13 weeks." Bonus for me, at the end of these 13 weeks I get to go to a much-anticipated yoga retreat in Bali. So there's that to look forward to.

Continuing the list of blessings, I'll get to make my own schedule for the most part. Which means that I can sign up to work every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. This is beneficial for several reasons. With the exception of getting to work Friday night, and home Monday morning, my commute will go from 2 hours to 45ish minutes. Which means more sleep for me. Also, in the world of people who routinely work weekends, pro-tip: doing shit on the weekends SUCKS!! Seriously. Going to target Saturday afternoon? No thanks. Try getting to the beach on a Sunday --way to crowded, and let's not even talk about the traffic. Dinner reservations on a Friday night? Ugh no thanks. All of these things are SO MUCH MORE ENJOYABLE Monday-Thursday when the rest of you souls are not doing them because you are at work or have to be at work early in the morning. So. Make my own schedule, work weekends, better commute, blissful days of complete freedom during the week.

This I broke down in my head fairly quickly after agreeing to the contract. What's getting to me now is trying to decide if it feels like a big step backwards. I was a COMPLETELY different person when I moved to my little apartment on the beach three years ago. The girl that moved to Hermosa beach was one who was relatively unsure of this new life she was fluffing out for herself. Not sure who she was or where she wanted her life to go.

The nurse that is going back is worlds more confident, sure of herself, four sizes smaller, her complexion is clear, her skin is soft and smooth, her eyelashes are longer, she laughs more, she smiles more. She's healthier & happier in all ways. She knows who she is and she loves herself. She's also debt free. That one was a goal she'd been working toward since traveling again. Everything else can be traced back to one tiny dot. The tip of the teeter-totter that swung my life in a better direction was a single visit to a hair salon. I'm not joking.

The day I walked in to Nine Zero One salon changed my life. My hair was a mess. It was long and heavy and split-in-not-just-the-ends. the color was dull and lifeless. It was literally doing NOTHING for me.  I walked in and I was nervous. Nervous that I wasn't good enough or 'cool' enough or 'pretty' enough to be there. After all, it's a salon for famous people. The girls at the front desk greeted me with genuine smiles and brought me back to the lounge to change into a 901 robe and wait for my stylists. I was instantly put at ease. I put the robe on and couldn't help but grin. This was a bucket-list item for me. Something I had to splurge on while I was in LA --getting my hair done at one of the premiere salons in the nation. I put the robe on, I waited with small bursts of residual nerves, and was eventually called back. I sat in Tim's chair and all traces of nervousness evaporated. Tim and Tabitha asked what we were doing cut and color wise and what I was thinking. I said I wanted to try a balayage for the color and to take several inches of the unhealthy part of my hair off but that I was open to suggestion. Talking to them was easy, I shouldn't have been surprised, but I honestly was. There wasn't a single note of pretension anywhere in the salon. Every single person there loved what they did and it showed. They all smiled, they all laughed and they all took an interest in YOU. I thought I would die when the salon owner (whom I had religiously instagram-stalked for years) came over and put her hands in my hair and told me what great hair I had and made sure I was happy, and told me how wonderful it was looking.  Before I left the salon with a head full of gorgeous hair, my life had literally been transformed. Several people while I was there looked me in the eye and told me with all sincerity that I was beautiful. I was not only told I was beautiful, but made to FEEL it. I WAS beautiful. And I was beautiful because I was me. I gained so much confidence and put effort into my appearance, because I'm worth it. My hair is healthy, beautiful, and SO well taken care of. And not only was I worthy of taking care of my hair, I was worthy of being healthy, exercising, and loving life. Needless to say the salon went from a bucket-list item to a necessity I will commute to no matter what time zone I'm living in.

I discovered hot yoga which changed my life in ways I can't adequately quantify. I learned to breathe. I learned to be. And to be still. I learned to be soft, I learned to be strong. I learned that you never know what you show up with each day until you try. I learned I'm stronger than I think. I learned that my body is amazing and capable of so much more than I give it credit for. My mind is healthy and calm, my body is fit and strong, my life as a complete whole is just... GOOD.

I've read countless books, been to two different countries, made SO many new and amazing friends, and I'm really just reflecting what a difference a few years can make. It's so strange to feel like you're starting over in a place you were at three years ago, but at the same time going back as a whole new person so it's really not starting over at all. I'm excited to see where this 13 weeks takes me, and how the people I left there three years ago have changed as well. Cheers to changes, cheers to growth, cheers to 13 weeks until Bali!!!

The nurse that left:

And the one that's going back:

On Doing That Thing I Do

There was a time in my career when I would walk out of the Emergency department at the end of my shift on top of the world. Actual physical excitement, and I remember thinking on several occasions, 'I can't believe I get to do this job!' I was the luckiest girl in the world. This was all I had ever wanted to do. And now it was here and it was everything I thought it would be and more. Fast forward a few years and the enthusiasm wains. But I've become damn good at what I do. And I'm still proud of what I do. I tell people, I save lives for a living. And it's true. Fast forward a few more years and I'm crying on the way in to work and sitting in the parking garage for ten extra minutes trying to force myself to go it. I get home and can't wait to take my scrubs off. Because I'm so excited to not have to be a nurse anymore that day. I'm tired.

A couple more years. A new state. More sunshine. More freedom. I no longer cry on my way into work. I don't hate my job most days. The fact that this feels like 'success' the fact that I don't loathe my job anymore feels like a win? That's depressing af. I see new nurses and student nurses in the ER and they're so excited. So passionate. And I tell them to hold on to that for as long as they can. They smile because they think I'm joking, but I'm not. I'm not mocking their enthusiasm. I'm giving honest advice.

My uber driver this morning asked me if I liked my job and I told him, "Some days. And some days I wish I'd gone to beauty school." This is not a knock to people who have gone to beauty school. Those who know me know that the people who do my hair are two of my most favorite people, and people that I hold a great deal of respect for. Both for the amazing work that they do and the hard work they've put into their careers, their art. It's something I'd thought about doing once upon a time however briefly, and sometimes I wish I'd done something else. Anything else.  But what I told my uber driver this morning wasn't wrong. I do like my job some days.

I just got home from the Emergency Nurses Association Conference. Three days of classes, mediocre food, and a whole lot of free pens, lunch bags, water bottles, and even a reusable ice pack. I have only been once before. A few years ago in Tampa, FL. The conference is annual, and after the first one I was so rejuvenated and loved it so much that I wanted to go every year. But life happens and work happens and I haven't been since. The thing about the conference is, it kind of feels like church for your job. You go to church on Sunday, you get spiritually fed, and you feel like you can make it another week.

You go to ENA conference and you get your shriveled, blackened, jaded little ER nurse soul revived. You feel like you can go to work another week. Because there is a reason you wanted to do this. That reason gets lost sometimes. twelve years of being yelled at, spit on, verbally abused, threatened, and belittled by patients contribute to that. But that's not the only contributing factor. Even through all that, most of us got into this business because we wanted to help people. We have a skill set and we have the determination to help people even when they're at their worst and most vulnerable. One thank you from a sweet little old grandma can undo a week's worth of abuse from other patients and their families.

The thing that's harder is the 12 years of being understaffed, under appreciated, reprimanded for not checking the right box on a chart, for charting but not scanning the motrin that the 18 month old spit all over your hand. Treated like a petulant child by management and administration. Nurses and doctors are no longer resources. We are commodities. We are disposable operators of the electronic chart robot who exist to click the right boxes so that the hospital can get paid. Oh, and hand out narcotics and turkey sandwiches. So that the hospital can get paid. That's not healthcare. That's not what we signed up for.

And so there's a disconnect. There's conflict. You get tired. And I don't want tired to be my story. Instead of coming to work excited every day to see what I got to do and then leaving feeling like I have the greatest job in the world, I just come to work. Sometimes excited to see my friends. I survive a shift. I fake a smile. I fetch all the turkey sandwiches and narcotics. I do the ordered tests that are unnecessary because it doesn't matter if we as doctors and nurses all think they're medically unnecessary. That's not what we're paid for. We're paid to make sure the hospitals and insurance companies get paid. And to not get sued in the meantime.  Does anyone know the ICD-10 code for holding the hand of the young woman who just got told she had cancer? What about for hugging the 95 year old man who's going home without his wife for the first time in 60 years because she died? What about the ICD-10 code for watching a patient walk in and knowing to put the crash cart outside their room because something isn't right, and you know that just from a glance. Where's that box to click?

What do you do when you 'like' your job 'some days' but you can't imagine what else you'd rather do with your life? I don't have any permanent answers. I can tell you that one thing you do is you go to these conferences. You read books. You watch TED talks. You realize that your issues are not only your's. There are people from across the country, and even Sweeden and The Netherlands who feel the same way. You listen to talks from physicians who feel the same way and have a Facebook following of hundreds of thousands of people who feel the same way. You learn new skills to cope. You get the strength in your ER nurse soul revived, and you get the strength to try again.  And then you go back to work and you take care of the people. You do what you got into this business for. You do it for those people. And you try to check all the boxes to make the desk people happy, but you take care of people for the people. You do what you can. And that's all I have for now. But it's enough.

On Goals & Air Mattresses

Today has been an interesting one. I've been having a hard time readjusting to working night shift. Or nightshift-ish since I work from 4pm-4:30am ...ya know what? Never mind, that's a night shift. I forgot how truly crappy you feel. I had become so used to feeling like a normal person that I honestly forgot what it was like. And the days that you work are fine, because you're in a routine. And when you work 12.5 hours a day plus a 30 minute commute each way that only leaves 9.5 hours for sleeping, eating, showering, and getting ready for each day. Plus social media, because priorities.

As I was saying, I forgot how crummy you feel on your days off when you want to do things during daylight hours and maybe even see some sunshine. Because if you were to keep your same schedule you kept for working days you wouldn't see the sun for more than 2 hours. And that's not enough time for human beings. Especially for human beings who have happily adjusted to life in LA where it's sunny 345 days of the year. So I try to switch back to a slightly more normal schedule without screwing myself over when it comes time to go back to work.

Today it was a big accomplishment that I was able to get myself out of bed, ready for the day and out the door to enjoy the sunshine by 1pm. I explored the Beverly Center and went for a walk up and around Melrose. Because I'm powerless to just walk by a Sephora without going in, and I'm powerless to go in without purchasing something, I came out with $250 worth of stuff I hadn't planned on getting; stuff that I now needed. Then because I have no food at my house, nor any desire to go to the store to purchase some, I got to-go food from Craig's. Because, treat yourself. It's my day off.

Then I came home and decided that I should look into getting actual furniture for my apartment. Yes, that's right I don't have any furniture. Besides a bed. Because, priorities. Seriously. I have an air mattress in my otherwise bare living room. So I started looking at Ikea online, found a couch, chaise, chair, and rug that I liked and that were reasonably priced. Then I took a quick check of the credit card balance I've been working on paying off. And almost got sick. Because I forgot about the car tune-up I had put on there. And the afore mentioned bed. A piece of advice for adulthood? Never settle for the cheap bed.

So I logged off the Ikea website and thought, "Ya know what, I don't need a couch." And I don't. Is that weird? I feel like adults should need couches. But why? I don't honestly miss having one. My air mattress works perfectly fine for sitting. I was going to get one because I felt like that's something an apartment owner (renter) should have. Because, reasons. For some people, it might be something they need, and that's ok too. For me, it simply isn't. Because I'd rather pay off my credit card than have a couch. I'd rather get my hair done at the nice salon than have a couch. I'd rather shop at Sephora and get takeout than have a couch (or grocery shop). For me, my house is a home without a couch. And maybe when I get a couple more things done from my goal list I'll get a couch from craigslist. Maybe.

I spent the rest of the evening talking online to a friend who lives in Toronto. Talking about people who motivate us and goals that we want to accomplish, places we want to see, things we want to do. And it was a nice reminder for me. I've been doing well with paying off my debt and on spending my money on experiences instead of things. I could do better. I've slacked a bit recently. So I vowed to myself to write my goals down. Bring back the vision board. Make my goals visible again. Write them on the bathroom mirror, tack them to the wall by the door so I see them every time I leave.

No one accomplishes anything of note without working their ass off. That's just the way it works. And if you work hard and go hard and push through the parts when it's easier to quit, greatness happens. Everyone has their different goals. Everyone is different. So decide what it is that you'd rather do. What are you willing to forego to get what you want. What do you want most? For me right now? Number one goal: paying off my debts. So that I can accomplish goal number two, the only one that ultimately matters: see the world. Goal one is a necessary means to accomplishing the end-goal of number two. I'll admit that sometimes Sephora and feeding giraffes and Disneyland get in the temporary way of goal number one. There's a fine line between keeping your sanity and going overboard. A girl can't live on free walks to see palm trees alone. Every once in a while treats are ok. I just need to be better at choosing ones that I want enough to make it worth my time. Re-buckle down, re-focus, re-group. Put your game face on, put your head down, and charge ahead full steam with your goals. What are you waiting for. (If you say January 1st our friendship is in jeopardy. My loathing for and refusal to believe in New Year's resolutions is another post entirely.)