So......where were we?

Okay, so I thought I would resume blogging by scanning in a copy of the letter I got from the nursing program. That's what I thought when I went on hiatus. Which suggests, now that I look at it, that I thought I had a pretty good chance of at least scoring an interview--an odd level of confidence for someone with the self-esteem issues I collect (I have several back issues and possibly a couple of subscriptions). Proof, if ever you need any, that the universe enjoys a good laugh as much as anyone.

I got the letter a week ago, and I opened it in the front yard with trembling hands, and then I quickly skimmed it for the key words. It was apparent almost immediately that "unfortunately" was probably not a good key word to find. I decided fairly rapidly that it was unlikely to be part of a sentence like "unfortunately for the other candidates, your application was far superior" or "unfortunately, the english language limits our ability to tell you just how cool you are". And, true enough--it wasn't either of those. It was, in fact, more of an "unfortunately we cannot offer you a position in the program, thank you very much, don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out" kind of thing. (I might have embellished the last part a bit. Just a bit.)

I'd have scanned it in anyway, but it would have required uncrumpling it and digging it out of the recycle where I buried it--turns out that even in moments of extreme distress, I am still able to "think green".

If any of you lived close by, you would have felt the whooshing of the roller coaster as my emotions ran around on the track over the next several days, only no one was giggling or anything. Thankfully, no one lost their cookies, either, but I would have liked a little bit of giggling. Truth is, it's been hard. And I want to say that I'm so grown up and so self-actualized (ah--THERE'S the giggling) that I am philosophical about the whole thing and that I always view the loss in a healthy and mature fashion, focusing on how much I've learned and so on and so forth. Sometimes, for brief seconds, it's even true. Sadly, it is also true that I have moments of anger, of pain, of angst, and of thinking the entire committee are a bunch of poopyheads and wondering how in the world the uber-tanned 23-year-old in my CNA class with the $300 handbag and seemingly no real interest in anything medical because it's "icky" managed to get in while I did not. Seems that they're accepting Malibu Barbie this year, but not me. (Yes, I've had moments of nastiness, too. I'm not proud of them.)

Mostly, now, the worst is over. I hate it that I didn't get in, and I feel like a failure and I feel embarrassed and I feel like I let down everyone who loves me...but these feelings are coming less and less. They're being replaced by the knowledge that the universe invariably manages to lead me where I need to go and that this is not the sort of crisis that warrants as much attention as I'm giving it. People are dying all over the world....this is a mere bump in my incredibly blessed road. Granted, it's a bump that really pisses me off...but still.

Truth is, I've been thinking a lot about passion. I've always said that nursing is my passion...but I'm starting to see that it's really not. It is, in fact, a vehicle for my real passion. The real passion, the one that feeds my soul and assures me that I have a reason for being in the world, is that ability to connect with people. To help hold their fear or their pain or their anger. To make a difference, not necessarily in their lives--a lofty goal, that--but at least in their right now. In their hurting. Nursing would be a great way to get to do that, but it isn't the only way. For right now, I've decided to go back to work for awhile and rethink things. I can't reapply for another year anyway, so I'm excited to go back to my passion, to feed that thing inside of me that absolutely demands to be fed and, quite frankly, has been starving for the better part of a year. I may reapply, I may not. But I will make the decision knowing that what I am and what I can give is enough--no matter how I end up giving it.

I went to my old employers looking for references and both of them have asked if I'd like to come back. The inner child is clearly expressing herself in my desire to relay this info to the nursing committee while saying something terribly mature and eloquent, such as "SEE?? SOME people appreciate and want me! Nanny-nanny-boo-boo, you poopyheads."

Assclowns would be a bit more satisying, I admit. Probably a bit more dignified, too.

Lest you think I've done nothing but wallow in the pit of assclownery (a good word, I think), I offer this:

I think you saw the beginnings of the reddish one on your left; the next one in (the teal) is made from Panda Wool/Bamboo blend in a pattern from their website (I know--ME, using the correct wool for the pattern. I had to sit down a minute myself). Next, the pastelly one that really does beg the question of what happens to my brain in the presence of wool fumes. I mean, it's pretty and all...but also probably the least "me" kind of yarn I've ever purchased. Gave me a run for my money, too, possibly realizing that it was in the hands of someone who didn't truly appreciate it and might well make it into a toilet tissue cover or something. In the end, I designed the pattern myself and that's the sock you see above. To tell you the truth, I was so aggravated at that point that the toilet paper hat with the little ruffle was starting to look pretty good, so the fact that it's even sock-shaped is a sort of triumph. Lastly, the purple one whose mate is almost done (I'll be finishing it today). I love this one quite a bit. It's from a free pattern called "Saucy" and it's a surprisingly quick knit.

I told a dear friend that I felt a little funny about calling myself Ms. Knitingale, seeing as how I didn't even make it to the interview stage of the nursing school application. She said (kindly) not to be ridiculous and I started thinking: maybe "nurse" isn't just a profession. Maybe it's also a state of mind. Maybe a person who will be there for you when you're afraid or in pain is a nurse of your soul. Maybe someone who takes joy in making a connection when you most need it, is a nurse of the heart.

I'd like to think so, anyway.