What's it been like re-entering life in the US? I'm still not sure. In Jamaica I longed for everyday access to a computer, my reference books, old friends, walks in the woods, soaks in the hot tub under starlit skies. I longed for the freedom to move about freely and safely, to see familiar landscapes, and wear seatbelts!
Well, it's been a month since my return. So how come I feel unbearably restless at times, unable to sit still long enough to read a good book? And even the internet with its quick access to info seems vapid and superfluous. Perhaps its a bit of campaign withdrawal. Or maybe its adjusting to having to think about every small purchase I make and having the will power to say:" No, you don't need that, you don't have any extra money right now." It's made me realize how much time I spent searching stuff on LL Bean, Coldwater Creek and Amazon, com. Funny, I never really thought of myself as the materialistic type. I have what I need already. Excuse me, Kare--- you know you'd like a camera with a longer zoom capability. Wishing is OK, just don't get carried away.
I think I'm in a good place and happy for the most part. Returning to the Birth Center has been incredibly positive, challenging and rewarding. Juggling a myriad of tasks and patients can be stressful at times, yet I love the constant motion, the people interactions, digging deep into the recesses of my brain to retrieve bits of knowledge, being forced to make lightening quick clinical decisons. Yup, it's still there thankfully. For the first time in a long time,I'm feeling compelled to hone my skills, take new risks, try on new roles at work. Perhaps the little hiatus was needed.
I knew when I left for the Peace Corps that I needed lots of stimulation and varied activities to keep me stimulated and growing as a person. I was bored with my life. Now that I'm home, I'm aware that I have to, once again, make choices about how I spend my time. It's like shopping in a mega grocery store and having stuff swirling around me vying for my attention. It's disorienting and I feel like, oh please, don't make me choose. I don't want to read all the boxes and cans and compare. So I'm on the other end of the spectrum: too many choices and too few hours. It's something I've always wrestled with on a daily basis. Oh, yah and it'll be a lifelong dilemma. It's the curse and the blessing of being a creative person, someone who has an insatiable need to give of myself, yet a need to retreat into solitude and quiet. Holy, Moly it's a bitch at times! It's like having several taxi drivers shouting destinations at me and trying to sort out what they are saying and where I am going, all the while trying to stay safe.
Writing has been incredibly difficult, the words and emotions are stuck in my gut and I desperately want to let them out. I move on to other tasks hoping that my voice will return. So, I'll summon up patience and let it all percolate hoping that I'm able to make some sense of it all later on. It's not unlike waiting for wine to ferment. OK, I won't pop the cork until the time is right. But how will I know?
Geesh, it's difficult to watch Matt sort through the job search and find his way. I know it's his own struggle, yet I want to be a good listener and support him. I'm tempted to point him back in the direction of nursing, OK, so I mentioned it in passing. It's a bit like watching someone play pin the tail on the donkey from the sidelines. Oh, you're so close, oops, now you're headed away from the target. Matt's an amazing man with so many strengths and skills to draw upon. He'll figure it out. And I will too! Now, how was I going to spend my time today? Aaaagh!
