Best Intentions

10 Mar

Sandy, my stepmother, called me this afternoon while I was at the library. This was after a series of text messages about where I was and if I was able to take a call. In hindsight this was pretty polite of her, but at the time I was slightly confused. I told her she could call, which she did, only to ask me whether I had heard of travel nursing or not.

Sandy had not heard of this profession and was very impressed by the hourly rate that an acquaintance’s daughter was making for a job in Connecticut. I listened patiently, thinking I understood where she was going with the discourse. Sure enough, after a minute of talking, she trailed off, wanting me to say something.

I thanked her, both for the information and for looking out for me.

The entire conversation was interesting in the sense that Sandy never calls me. We’ve spoken on the phone at times when I’ve called my dad. I’ve called her at times, when we’re low on garbage bags, when it’s her birthday, etc. She does not call me. As soon as she was done talking about the travel nurse job, that was it. We both got off the phone.

This follows on the heels of my uncle suggesting (perhaps also trying to be helpful) that I attend a two-year college for a physical therapy degree. Besides the fact that you can’t get such a degree in two years, why are people who have little to nothing invested in my life be pushing for me to settle for something so… small?

It was annoying, I admit, since I’ve told her and my father both that I’m going back to school in the first place for physical therapy. I don’t want to be a traveling nurse. I don’t want to stray from the path that I have decided. It took several months of prayer, meditation, and counseling (AKA serious consideration) to make this move at all. To change my mind for a different occupation, even if it is in the same location, feels like betraying myself and the work that I have already put into this journey. Too many people in my generation are wishy-washy and I don’t want to be one of them.

I was talking to my former roommate last night who suggested I create a timeline for them; something to give them some comfort should they start to feel antsy about the amount of time I’m staying in their house. I did not think I had been ambiguous about it, but it’s possible. It’s not a bad idea, a clear timeline. I will prepare one, but I also live in a family whose motto is “Si suus dog noli id reficere.” Until they ask, I will keep the information to myself.

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