jumping off the boathouse
I finished an assignment in Dayton, Ohio last Thursday, and this past Thursday started my new assignment in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. I was sad to leave Dayton and the great group of nurses I worked with. I was happy to be going back to Baton Rouge to work with the great nurses there. Holding happy and sad in the same hand at the same time feels odd. Sad to leave Dayton; happy to get to Baton Rouge. Sad to be so far away from my kids; happy to be in BR near my mom, brother and lifelong friends.
Change. I hate change. Change is what travel nursing is all about, right? That's the gig I signed up for. I can choose NOT to be a travel nurse and make the necessary adjustments to my life - but (and I swear this is true) the thought of being stuck in a typical 9-5 Monday-Friday job with 2 weeks of paid time off a year sounds dreadful.
What?
Yes.
D R E A D F U L.
I like the freedom travel nursing brings. Even though I hate change.
Let's just leave it as I am "change averse" or "change resistant." Call it "jumping off the boathouse syndrome." During our summers at Lake Burton the kids would have great fun jumping off the party deck on top of the boathouse into the water. Looked like a blast. I wanted to be the cool fearless mom and do it. Here's how that typically went: I would tell myself "get up there and jump!" "No worries!!" I would get to the jump off spot look down at the water and in the span of about 10 seconds have every worst case scenario imaginable pass in front of my eyes. Fear of doing a fatal belly flop or some other likely-not-to-happen tragedy would flash through my mind. 1001 reasons NOT to jump roared through my brain like an auctioneer calling bids. Many times I'd climb down and console myself that at least I knew I could say "No" (something a people pleasing junking like me has a hard time with), and that it was equally good for my kids to see that it's ok to acknowledge your fear and know your limits (or some other psycho-baloney-bullshit).
The few times I did toss caution to the wind and JUMPED off the boathouse it was exhilarating! Fun! (and I was OK) But that inner struggle was a World Wide Wrestling style smack down. A true War Between the States of being. A battle for who I was. Was I a live out loud/take the world by the balls kind of gal or a cautious, timid, ruled-by-my-fear creature shivering in the corner? (too many times the cautious, timid, fearful me won)
That's change. Standing on the edge of the boathouse in the heat looking down at the water. Live big be bold and jump or back down, be fearful, live in the shadows. Jump or no jump. Either way a choice has to be made and with it change is gonna come. This has been the metaphor of my life. Be bold or be wimpy. Face my fears and do it anyway or run from my fears and go hide.
Running and hiding takes a lot of energy. Being bold and living out loud takes energy too - but it's an energy that is reflected back to you like sunshine on a mirror. Living out loud ends up giving you energy. Running & hiding is the emotional equivalent of a black hole - sucks the energy (and life) right out of you.
Here's to jumping off the boathouse!!!
naturally,
Nurse Joanie
Change. I hate change. Change is what travel nursing is all about, right? That's the gig I signed up for. I can choose NOT to be a travel nurse and make the necessary adjustments to my life - but (and I swear this is true) the thought of being stuck in a typical 9-5 Monday-Friday job with 2 weeks of paid time off a year sounds dreadful.
What?
Yes.
D R E A D F U L.
I like the freedom travel nursing brings. Even though I hate change.
Let's just leave it as I am "change averse" or "change resistant." Call it "jumping off the boathouse syndrome." During our summers at Lake Burton the kids would have great fun jumping off the party deck on top of the boathouse into the water. Looked like a blast. I wanted to be the cool fearless mom and do it. Here's how that typically went: I would tell myself "get up there and jump!" "No worries!!" I would get to the jump off spot look down at the water and in the span of about 10 seconds have every worst case scenario imaginable pass in front of my eyes. Fear of doing a fatal belly flop or some other likely-not-to-happen tragedy would flash through my mind. 1001 reasons NOT to jump roared through my brain like an auctioneer calling bids. Many times I'd climb down and console myself that at least I knew I could say "No" (something a people pleasing junking like me has a hard time with), and that it was equally good for my kids to see that it's ok to acknowledge your fear and know your limits (or some other psycho-baloney-bullshit).
The few times I did toss caution to the wind and JUMPED off the boathouse it was exhilarating! Fun! (and I was OK) But that inner struggle was a World Wide Wrestling style smack down. A true War Between the States of being. A battle for who I was. Was I a live out loud/take the world by the balls kind of gal or a cautious, timid, ruled-by-my-fear creature shivering in the corner? (too many times the cautious, timid, fearful me won)
That's change. Standing on the edge of the boathouse in the heat looking down at the water. Live big be bold and jump or back down, be fearful, live in the shadows. Jump or no jump. Either way a choice has to be made and with it change is gonna come. This has been the metaphor of my life. Be bold or be wimpy. Face my fears and do it anyway or run from my fears and go hide.
Running and hiding takes a lot of energy. Being bold and living out loud takes energy too - but it's an energy that is reflected back to you like sunshine on a mirror. Living out loud ends up giving you energy. Running & hiding is the emotional equivalent of a black hole - sucks the energy (and life) right out of you.
Here's to jumping off the boathouse!!!
naturally,
Nurse Joanie
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