Lady of the Night...No More

I'm writing this in the early hours of the morning after my last night at work. It's incredibly hard for me to imagine that after
spending 40-60 hours a week here for the past year and a half, I'll walk out the door this morning and just not come back. Yesterday morning when I got after work, I was struck with such an agonizing sadness about it--about leaving the wonderful people I've made friends with, and also leaving the role that, in spite of myself, I've grown comfortable with. I told Matt yesterday that I applied to law school back when things were unfamiliar, stressful, and difficult--and that somewhere in between applying to school and actually leaving, I somehow got comfortable here. I never saw it coming. Older nurses would tell me that the first year would be hell, but then it would get better. I couldn't believe them; I was convinced that I was in entirely the wrong profession, that I would never develop the physical skills or the intellectual capacities that the job demanded. I'm still a novice by all means, but I think I can say that I was wrong. I can't say exactly when it happened--when I stopped tasting panic when I was assigned a labor patient, or when my mind first did something besides simply go blank when an emergency arose--but perhaps because the idea that this career wasn't forever took the pressure off, I found my stride. And loved it. And looking back, I'm glad I applied to law school and decided to go when I did--because if I'd felt then about nursing the way I do now, I'm not sure I could have done it.

From this experience, I've learned I've learned so much that I hope will smooth the transition back to square one--starting over, and in a profession I have even less initiation to than I did into nursing. I've learned that I was never hopeless, only inexperienced; I've learned to listen to the voices of experience when they tell me that ease comes with time. I've learned how to both trust myself and rely on others in an emergency. I've learned that I can both think on my feet and admit when I'm wrong.

I'm also comforted by the memory of how brokenhearted I was to leave geriatric nursing--but that I've never regretted it. I remember people I trusted telling me, "We're sorry to see you go, but this has to be the next step for you. You'll be glad you did." Those people were right, and I hear them saying the same things again. I'm so excited for this next adventure, but being glad to go doesn't dampen my sorrow at leaving. It also doesn't completely offset the loss I feel at giving up what has been such a huge part of my identity--my place in the night nurse culture. I feel like in a way, I don't know who I am if I actually sleep during the day. And maybe I don't. And I'm realizing that that's OK.