As it turns out, I am absolutely scared to death of being comfortable. Because I think that comfort is ridiculously sneaky and has the potential to keep you in a place you were maybe never supposed to be.
I recently made my eternal peace with grad school (potentially an inaccurate use of the term eternal – since I have in no way resolved to never pursue graduate studies again in my life, but only to stop pretending that the pathway I was following was right, simply because I was there and doing it). This decision left a fairly significant chasm in my life.
By rights, there was no physical chasm. I actually have had a job this whole time. An incredible, purposeful, important job, where I know what to do and where I am loved like a member of an extraordinary family. A job that I should have been totally content to return to.
Given the situation at hand, I obviously began my pursuit of “what next?” (please note: I completely understand how, at first glance, this type of behaviour might appear flighty, unsettled, unappreciative, nomadic, idealistic, or even pompous….but hear me out). The initial realization that there had to be a “what next” came almost immediately following my beauty school drop-out moment. Basking in all my pink-haired glory, my thoughts went back to Africa of course.
“But I am not ready Lord, we both know that. There is so much more to learn and to know.”
It was almost humorous to me considering myself in the middle of a bush somewhere, with a cupboard full of expired bottles and viles, attempting to decipher how each (or better yet how I) might be of any assistance to anyone.
"Ok, so not now. I'll get more experience….got it"
So, where do you get experience? Where do nurses have to learn to deal with the unexpected and unknown with grace, flair, and confidence? I didn’t spend my teenage years in love with George Clooney for nothing.
"Absolutely! Emerg … perfect!"
Enter: Fear. The allure of comfort.
Emergency departments are scary. I think I remember a distinct putrid smell. Most people that come to emergency departments are irritable, annoyed, and tired. From my experience with human beings thus far, this combo doesn’t make for the most pleasant of interactions. Nurses dealing with emergencies have to think on their feet. They have to have a wealth of knowledge categorically stored in their brains for instant retrieval in the critical moment. They have to have supreme confidence and common sense. I have none of these. I desperately desperately want them (thus the decision to work in a place where I will be forced to acquire them), but I don’t have them.
Thus the dilemma: which is more risky – doing something that is intimidating or being comfortable? The allure of comfort is just so strong. The desire to stick where I am with what I know. To stay where I am comfortable and loved. But, how thankful I am to have a God who convinces me that the not doing something because I am afraid is so much more dangerous. Because there is a path that I need to walk down, and apparently there are some things I need to learn before I can head out.
It seems that God and my Starbucks cup were thinking along the same lines today: “Failure's hard, but success is far more dangerous. If you're successful at the wrong thing, the mix of praise and money and opportunity can lock you in forever”.
And so, here I am: afraid. An ER-nurse-to-be (as of Tuesday). Unsure of what to expect. Convinced that I am going to be overwhelmed. Confident that there are going to be a million things to learn. Fairly sure that there are going to be moments that absolutely blow chunks (probably literally). And, yet here I am, wholly convinced that doing anything less would scare me to death.
Archive for July 2009
posted by Jenn on ER, George Clooney, Nursing, Starbucks
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As it turns out, I am absolutely scared to death of being comfortable. Because I think that comfort is ridiculously sneaky and has the potential to keep you in a place you were maybe never supposed to be.
I recently made my eternal peace with grad school (potentially an inaccurate use of the term eternal – since I have in no way resolved to never pursue graduate studies again in my life, but only to stop pretending that the pathway I was following was right, simply because I was there and doing it). This decision left a fairly significant chasm in my life.
By rights, there was no physical chasm. I actually have had a job this whole time. An incredible, purposeful, important job, where I know what to do and where I am loved like a member of an extraordinary family. A job that I should have been totally content to return to.
Given the situation at hand, I obviously began my pursuit of “what next?” (please note: I completely understand how, at first glance, this type of behaviour might appear flighty, unsettled, unappreciative, nomadic, idealistic, or even pompous….but hear me out). The initial realization that there had to be a “what next” came almost immediately following my beauty school drop-out moment. Basking in all my pink-haired glory, my thoughts went back to Africa of course.
“But I am not ready Lord, we both know that. There is so much more to learn and to know.”
It was almost humorous to me considering myself in the middle of a bush somewhere, with a cupboard full of expired bottles and viles, attempting to decipher how each (or better yet how I) might be of any assistance to anyone.
"Ok, so not now. I'll get more experience….got it"
So, where do you get experience? Where do nurses have to learn to deal with the unexpected and unknown with grace, flair, and confidence? I didn’t spend my teenage years in love with George Clooney for nothing.
"Absolutely! Emerg … perfect!"
Enter: Fear. The allure of comfort.
Emergency departments are scary. I think I remember a distinct putrid smell. Most people that come to emergency departments are irritable, annoyed, and tired. From my experience with human beings thus far, this combo doesn’t make for the most pleasant of interactions. Nurses dealing with emergencies have to think on their feet. They have to have a wealth of knowledge categorically stored in their brains for instant retrieval in the critical moment. They have to have supreme confidence and common sense. I have none of these. I desperately desperately want them (thus the decision to work in a place where I will be forced to acquire them), but I don’t have them.
Thus the dilemma: which is more risky – doing something that is intimidating or being comfortable? The allure of comfort is just so strong. The desire to stick where I am with what I know. To stay where I am comfortable and loved. But, how thankful I am to have a God who convinces me that the not doing something because I am afraid is so much more dangerous. Because there is a path that I need to walk down, and apparently there are some things I need to learn before I can head out.
It seems that God and my Starbucks cup were thinking along the same lines today: “Failure's hard, but success is far more dangerous. If you're successful at the wrong thing, the mix of praise and money and opportunity can lock you in forever”.
And so, here I am: afraid. An ER-nurse-to-be (as of Tuesday). Unsure of what to expect. Convinced that I am going to be overwhelmed. Confident that there are going to be a million things to learn. Fairly sure that there are going to be moments that absolutely blow chunks (probably literally). And, yet here I am, wholly convinced that doing anything less would scare me to death.