Over the weekend, I had a pretty miserable time at work.
There’s the doctor that I swear, when I’m around, 50,000 things seem to go wrong. The IV goes bad, we’re missing equipment, I trip and fall on my face. You get the drift. The sort of things that make me look like the suave, confident, professional nurse I am pretending to be.
To be completely honest with you, it’s incredibly hard and stressful because I hate when I can’t do something well.
I know that I’m failing a bit in the losing weight department, but for the most part, in my life, when I set my mind to something, I accomplish it.
But when it comes to working as a hands-on hospital-based nurse?
I feel like I’m failing.
And I’m not sure I want to fix it.
My biggest struggle with myself, I think, is over-thinking things.
An ironic statement, yes, I realize.
I struggle so much with just accepting myself and my life right now. It was my goal for this, my 27th year of life, and this weekend felt like a test.
I am so ridiculously happily working from home as a writer. I love everything about it, from writing about prostate screenings to sharing my love of pregnancy in a far-off manner on sites like Babble and Everyday Family. I love the chaos of fitting in work around being home with my children. I love smelling the scent of a fresh cup of coffee brewing and the anticipation of sitting down at my desk, surrounded by the things I love and finding just the perfect words for myself or for a client.
But I feel a tremendous guilt about thinking about giving up hospital nursing–or even considering the fact that I don’t love it as much as I love working as a writer. I feel guilty because, as many people have commented on here, I should just be happy to have a job. I feel guilty, because after reading my Time magazine last night, I realize that I am part of the narcissistic “millennia” generation that is so worried about being happy that they are ruining their chances of happiness with unrealistic expectations about life.
I want to stop worrying. I want to stop the guilt.
I want to accept myself for who I am–flaws, failures, stretch marks and all.
I want that for all of us.
The ability to keep calm and carry on.
Wherever that may be.