The hunt continues..

At this very moment, I should be at my second interview. I'm supposed to be showcasing myself to prove that I can be an asset to the facility and that I am moldable and eager to learn as a novice nurse, blah blah blah. Instead, I rescheduled it, and honestly will probably respectfully decline if even given an offer to accept the RN position.

Out of my circle of friends from school, only one gets my theory, but I'm really praying I am making the right choice. 

There is so much pressure to take the first job you get offered because the job market as a new grad RN, even with a BSN & PHN, is fucking tough. You submit the resume and letters of recommendation along with thousands of other new grads, with that number growing every few months, in hopes of at least landing one interview so they can put a face to the name and, if nothing else, remember you for another position. Trying to stand out in the sea of other eager, new graduates is something proving to be more challenging than expected. 

My job submission list is reaching close to 50 at this point, with one interview, two rejection letters, and no offers. About every other day, the career services center at my school sends a mass email for possible job opportunities, and off we go, all of us, once again, applying for the same positions along with the rest of the entire community of new grads, and at this point, most of us don't expect even a letter of rejection. Of course, any job sounds good right about now, or at least that's what everyone tells me. I had been ignoring the emails from the career services department regarding skilled nursing facilities because I hear complete horror stories, but after feeling frustrated in Hawaii, I decided to put in my resume for the next SNF opening. 

As luck would have it, the nursing manager emailed me with a scheduled interview time. I saw it and immediately thought well, shit. Don't get me wrong, I am happy to at least hear back from a possible job, but deep down I don't feel that I should just take what I can get, like everyone tells me. From the stories I hear about SNF's, they are underpaid, required to work insane hours beyond their contracts, and their nurse to patient ratio is borderline dangerous. As a new grad nurse, I want to be challenged, but damn I also want to keep my license too. To be perfectly honest, I don't even want to interview for this position because I feel I might be tempted to take it, and I don't know if it's a risk I should be taking.

I would be opening up a new facility, so I don't even have much to go on as far as day to day operations as of now. I assume I will have to manage a team of LVN's and CNA's, which would be great as far as teamwork and delegation on my resume for future opportunities, but am I ready for that? I feel like I would need training much longer than I might be offered. Or I could just take the position if it was offered to me, increase my malpractice insurance, and tough it out...

I don't know. I feel like I need to listen to my gut instinct on this one. I know a hospital RN position would be best for me, so why should I settle? Or even put patients in danger when I don't know if I would be ready? I know what I'm worth, and not for nothing but I know what my degree is worth, and I didn't bust my ass stripping through school to pay off a $127K tuition and end up at a SNF feeling untrained & underpaid. Maybe if I was younger and I had time to waste, but I feel like my first job is crucial. I mean, what if I couldn't even get into a med/surg position after the SNF experience? And since the OR is my ultimate goal, I know I still need acute experience for that.. will reputable hospitals even count a SNF as acute experience? And if I start my master's program by the summer for my NP, I will have to disclose that looking for another RN position at a hospital, and hospitals don't want a master's student, only a graduate. 

UGH.

My head hurts just thinking about it. I wish I knew the right choice to make. Or maybe my thinking is so way off and I should just take a SNF position. This is where having parents would be really great. Also, a way to look into the future would be nice. 

In any case, I'm going to go to the interview. If nothing else, I can practice answering disease process questions and medication recommendation scenarios. 

It can't hurt, right?

The Unfuckable Truth: Maintenance Sex

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Back to Cali.

After 11 glorious days of not working, I went back to the club this week. Even after rubber tramping, it felt so nice to not be in 8inch heels or have sweaty hands touching me. I even started to get back on a normal sleeping schedule and I stopped experiencing shooting pains in my back when I finally did get to bed. I have never taken off work that many days in a row, but damn I needed it! After the last night of me being at the club involved vomit all over my legs and ass (have I not posted this?), I was ready to get the fuck to Hawaii. I didn't even open up my fake number app the entire time, which will be a whole post on its own, and I loved it. 

However, all good things come to an end. I took an extra day off after coming back from Maui because there was an actual war going on in my uterus, so I ended up going in on Thursday. 

I almost don't even want to count it because it didn't feel like work. I went in after attending a nursing seminar with nurse managers from various hospitals around the area, and I was in such a good mood after that that I felt like I was beaming. Even more exciting was that I knew that one person was coming in to see me and I couldn't wait to tackle him. This is the same person I kept in contact with during my trip, my Mr. Tie Tuesday, the guy who I'm pretty sure is a long lost something of mine because well.. we get each other. People with the same humor get each other. Anyways, he got there before I did, and I was so excited that I ran out half dressed in my sweater, stripper bottoms and flats, and almost actually tackled him. 

I get too excited to see him. It's like being really hungry and then seeing the food being delivered to your table, if that weird analogy makes sense at all.

Maybe I just need to eat breakfast...

Anyway, the night was a blast. I felt great to have my first night back with Mr. Tie Tuesday because I know I will just hang out with him until he decides to call it a night, and I genuinely have fun. It was a perfect welcome back to work.

Friday night, I was still on the same high. I wasn't in the mindset of thinking about working all day.. I just kind of let it go. The bitchiness, the anger and the frustration just seemed to escape me during the day because I forgot what the night could bring me and I felt so carefree. That is a hard feeling for me to have. I went a little late after dinner in downtown, so I was surprised at how easy it all seemed. I don't know if it was my carefree attitude that guys were picking up on, or that glass of Pinot Noir was kicking in, but I was just a little ball of fucking happy-go-lucky sunshine. 

At one point during the night, this older gentleman grabbed my hand, asked me to sit with his friend, and plopped me in the lap of a man I very much recognized! I only remembered his middle name was Michael (even that is a stretch for me because I never remember names), but I instantly hugged him because I remembered I liked him. Sometimes I might not know their name, or how much they spent, but I remember that it wasnt a fight & they are actually fun company, so I go with my gut instinct. He didn't remember me at first, but once we were dancing he said, "Sasha! How could I ever have forgotten you!", and didn't have me dance with anyone else the entire night. 

If I may just say this without sounding ungrateful, once again, but as much as I love having guys that are nice company, respectful & spend money, this guy is a tough one. Not because of him, but because.. well....

He looks like my father.

This is something I didn't expect when I started dancing. I never thought that one day, 5 1/2 years later, I might dance with a man that so much resembles my dad. It is this one thing that almost makes me wish he was some asshole guy I could write off but NO. He's the opposite and so I have to grin and bear it. And of course, it isn't just one thing, it's EVERYTHING. His age, his light brown hair, his facial expressions.. jeez. Though I haven't met one person who exactly has my father's tough, Brooklyn, smart-ass attitude, this guy came pretty close. I actually closed my eyes during our dances. I FELT SO CREEPED OUT.

I wonder if other dancers have ever experienced this...

Thank goodness this guy paid me good or else I don't think I could've let it continue. It's almost shameful.

Last night was just a pleasant surprise that (almost) made me forget about how I danced with the lookalike of my dad. My Mr. Tie Tuesday came in unexpected and I couldn't be happier. The time seems to slip by so fast that it doesn't even seem fair. It's always nice to have good company around, and he is definitely that. 

I wish the happiness high could have stuck throughout the rest of the weekend, but alas, I am here on a Sunday night, TIRED AS FUCK (thank you redbull/vodka from last night), in this dead club, watching the few guys in here dance & sing to every song like it's a fucking kareoke bar (like, what is that?!). 

I guess I better get to it & scrape whatever money I can tonight.

Rubber tramp.

Well, it is finally the last day of my Maui vacation.

Please note that I said "finally" and not "already", because I am really ready to just go home.

The night after I passed my nclex, I sat at work by myself on the plush, stained red chairs that lined the wall, wondering how many more quiet nights I could tolerate in that place, when I got a text message saying only check your email.

I opened up my email to find two plane tickets to Maui, a congrats for passing my boards (and for a possible end to nightly panic attacks about the NCLEX). I freaked out and actually jumped out of my chair. I had wanted to do a super relaxing vacation after graduation, but my sociopathic mother made sure that didn't happen. After the dust settled with that whole situation, it was just in enough time to take the boards and since I had missed so much work to study, I pretty much figured Maui was out of the question. So when I saw that it was actually going to happen, and during my birthday week, I felt so overjoyed I didn't know what to do with myself! 

Over the next 6 weeks I went shopping for new bathing suits, read online blogs about the best waterfall trail excursions, and prepared for an amazing trip. I wanted to do the "best of both worlds": stay in a super nice resort hotel with an ocean view for the first half of the trip, and then move over to the other side of the island & literally stay in the jungle. 

I really, REALLY, should have thought it through. 

The first half of the trip was great. Though my company is very much detached & quiet, I tried to ignore that and have fun anyway, even if it felt like I was by myself. I drank my weight in Mai-tai's, snorkeled with turtles and went to an amazing, traditional luau on my actual birthday. I felt relaxed, constantly buzzed, and just generally happy. Sure, I didn't get the one fucking thing I actually wanted for my birthday, but I am NOT ungrateful (It's not like I sat back & had everything paid for me either, so I don't want it to come off like I am some spoiled chick).

On Friday, we checked out of the hotel & got the rental car to move on the other side of the island. After almost 4 hours driving, I was just ready to get there & plan out my hiking adventures. The place was absolutely perfect and just how I had imagined it: a little jungle house with overgrown trees, a shower half outside and it all sat just perfectly on the cliff side. The view was just PERFECT.  

 

I mean really, just look at that view. I felt like I was Mowgli from the damn jungle book, and it was awesome. As I cooked dinner, I noticed I had been itching my leg for quite a while now, and when I looked down, I saw that I had huge welt-like bug bites. EVERYWHERE. As I went to examine them closer, I let out a startled scream as a tiny gecko ran over my foot.

I knew then that I may have gotten in over my head.

And just to show you what kind of bites I was dealing with, let me insert this picture of just one 

Now, I'm not saying I am so unlucky because I am a negative person, but it just so happens that I actually do have the strangest things happen to me. The kinds of things that my friends say, "That would only happen to you!". A calm, routine paddleboarding trip will end up with me being rescued by a nearby boat & having a full blown panic attack, or my brand new car will get hit twice in one day (PARKED). It is just annoying at this point, and something I really had hoped would not carry into my vacation. 

BUT OF COURSE...

The hurricane was supposed to hit our side of the island on Saturday and last through Sunday. Since most of the waterfall trails were closed, I enjoyed the warm rain (my favorite kind of weather), dove into reading (and finishing) Gone Girl, and just driving around Hana to look at whatever I could find. It truly was beautiful. Everything was green and warm and utterly perfect. We found hidden caves that you can only explore with flashlights and ate fruit right from the tree. My nature craving was getting fully satisfied, even with most of the trails closed. I was wet, muddy, exhausted and LOVING IT. 

I don't know exactly when things changed, but once they did, it felt like everything just kept going wrong. Those welt-looking bug bites began to cover my entire body, including my face, ears and hands. Hell, I even had one on my eye that had started to swell. But, I didn't want to be that annoying girl, complaining about a bug bite (or twenty) or that I had to deal with spiders out in the wilderness, so I just kept pushing on. The next two nights were almost miserable because of the itching, so when the hurricane passed and the seven sacred pools opened (my only real desire to come to Hawaii was to knock things off my bucketlist and waterfalls of all kinds take up 85% of it), I was dousing myself in bug repellant and literally running in my mud-stained rainbow sandals down to the trail. After 4 miles in, covered again in huge, painful bites and experiencing a fall which ended up cracking the lens of my nice Nikon camera, I felt so done. I couldn't have walked out of that trail any faster. I felt like I was actually experiencing it all alone, despite being with someone, on top of everything else, which is totally fine if I am actually alone. I tried to focus on my reading and having long, hilarious conversations with a good friend (which, thank the heavens, really kept a smile on my face the entire trip), but the cracking of my camera was the last straw. It was the last thing keeping me sane and it was gone. 

I just wanted to go home. 

We drove back to the rental house, and it was decided it was time to figure out a new game plan. We checked out early (not without finishing that last glass of wine, of course), and set off to civilization. I felt like I was giving up and kind of sad, but I gave myself some credit considering my womanly time just decided to show up and my hormones were fucking everywhere. We went to go see Gone Girl since I had just finished reading it (and damn was I disappointed in the ending) & discussed our options for lodging for the night. I figured we would probably end up in a cheap hotel, until my brilliant travel companion said, "Hey! I really wanted to go see Jaw's cove. There's a campground nearby, what do you say?". 

At this point, I was so tired from the day, hiking, stress and my womanly situation that I agreed and said, "Wake me up when we get there". 

LET ME TAKE THIS TIME TO MAKE ONE THING CLEAR. We are never, ever on the same page. Some people just get each other and aren't surprised by the other person's actions. 

We are not those people. 

I awoke to a harsh brake, followed my a noise I recognized but didn't quite understand in my groggy state. I strained to open one eye and looked at the clock. At least an hour of driving. I looked out the window just as the lights were being turned off to see the water. The fucking ocean in front of me. 

"What in the actual fuck?! You have to drive back.. Back up, back up!" (I told you before, I am the anxious one. Instead of seeing us pull up close to the shore, I saw our car being swept under a huge wave and me leaving a 7-year-old child without a mother. Yeah, my mind always goes to the worst possible situation).

"Why do you have to be crazy?"

Ah. The first words actually directed at me, and it was a dumbass remark. I rolled my eyes and turned over, thinking we were leaving but no. It was too late to go anywhere else (my reasoning because I was exhausted) and I just wanted to sleep. I had, unknowingly, agreed to be a rubber fucking tramp for the last night on my "vacation". I am blaming my annoyance on my period, but what the hell?! I thought we were actually camping somewhere, not sleeping in the fucking rental minivan on the side of the highway. 

I couldn't sleep. I knew my period was a situation I had to deal with, not to mention my anxiety. Other rubber tramps were nearby, and all I could think about was someone coming up to the window, forcing me out with a gun to my head and taking off with the car. 

YEAH. My mind seriously goes there.

I was pissed and stayed in the front passenger seat, too tired to argue, but I somehow woke up with my heart monitor going off and tears covering my cheeks in the back row of seats. I had been waking up about every 15 minutes with horrific nightmares, and he was trying to stop me from shaking (because I seriously look like I might be having a seizure in my sleep when I get the nightmares). I wiped the tears, tried to quiet my heart monitor (because every beeeeep beeeep beeep sounds to ME like stroooke, heaaaart attack, suuuudden death) and realized I never dealt with my "situation".

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

I had went from sipping champagne at the Westin to basically showering in the fucking ocean on the side of the road. I just wanted to cry from feeling icky, angry, and just overall over it.

I know I sound like I'm just upset all of the time, but I really try my best to look on the bright side of things. Honestly, it isn't my strong suit and if it's that time of the month, forget it, because my hormones have decided my emotions for me and my uterus has decided to unleash it's full fury and pain inside of me, so just let me be.

After a coffee, brushing my teeth and washing my face in a fast food bathroom, even in all of my annoyance, I decided to make the most of my last afternoon. My traveling partner was begging to get me a hotel room, but I really just wanted to forget about it all. We went to the aquarium, had some drinks in silence, and ran our asses through the airport home-alone style, just barely catching our plane (which, really, would have put me over the edge if I missed another flight). We slipped into our seats and I finally was able to knock the fuck out. 

I will have to say, though, that maybe actually catching my flight is an end to this bad luck storm of the past few days. I am notorious for missing flights. Once, I sat with my headphones in in a corner boarding area, unknowingly watching every single person board my flight and take off. They had to pull me from the flight I actually tried to go on: New York > Japan. I know, I'm ridiculous.

I just cannot wait for this trip to officially be over, which won't be until I get my feet back on LA land. I want to smother my little panda's face with kisses, sleep in my huge California King bed, and get to fixing this crazy tan line. 

Aloha, mahalo, whatever. 

LA, my ultimate frenemy, I'm coming home.  

The hunter

I never thought I would make it this far. Well, okay, I knew eventually I would make it, but damn it felt like it was a never ending process. 

I passed my NCLEX in mid-august, the day before my little one turned 7 years old (which was the promise I made to myself when I first got accepted to the nursing program). It was a Saturday and I was scheduled to take it at 1pm. I woke up after two horrible hours of sleep and went through my list of tips given to me by my predecessors and the amazing Kaplan professor I was blessed with: 

"Eat a hearty breakfast!"

"Don't drink too much coffee!"

"Screw it, if you are used to drinking coffee every morning, do it! Today is NOT the day to change your routine."

"Don't look at your notes"

"Ok, maybe glance at labs.."

"Wear the ugliest & comfiest clothes you can find!"

I left the house wired on 2 cups of coffee, dark circles under my eyes (that I had no intention of covering up), wearing the baggiest, warmest, long sleeved tee I could find & comfy tights with my new chucks. For some reason, I felt like new chucks would make me feel more "together" paired with an outfit that instead made me feel like I was a married woman of 10 years finally giving up on myself. I drove myself to the testing facility, which was thankfully only 20 minutes away, and just sat in the parking lot. I wanted to cry. I wanted to panic and drive home and forget all of this stress.. maybe just drive to some dark dive bar & drink myself into a mindless stupor so I could just FORGET that there was so much responsibility landing on my shoulders on that VERY day. 

I didn't. 

I walked up with my little packed lunchbox and fucking did it. I started to hyperventilate when I made it to question 76 and it was some easy pathophysiology question. I remembered the golden rule of, "if you know the answer, you aren't doing well". I literally put my head in my hands & had tears streaming down my cheeks at question 105, but I DID IT. 

Then, question 126 and boom! It shut off. 

Wait.. that was the only answer I actually knew.. what the fuck does that mean?? Did I fail?!

I quickly started to plan my disappearance from my social circle, social media, and life in general. 

What should I delete first.. Instagram? No, Facebook. Definitely Facebook. 

I cannot FAIL.. I've made it so far I just CANNOT FAIL. I quickly went out to my car, called a few girlfriends to talk me off the ledge and waited the 10 minutes until I could check to see if the website to sign up for the exam would let me sign up again. The trick was that if it didn't let you, it means you passed and a popup would appear that you could basically count on as your "Congrats! The pain and suffering is over! All of your years of studying and hardwork is.. kind of over!!" I literally felt every second pass by slower than the previous until I went to the sign up screen and .. NOTHING. The site was fucking DOWN FOR MAINTENANCE. I have literally never heard of this happening. I panicked until I realized I would have to spend the next 5 hours in the agony of not knowing. The panic turned into legitimate fear.

  

I am not one to be calm. I am the anxious friend you want to just tell, "shut the fuck up" because they won't stop going ON AND ON about the same issue they can do absolutely nothing about. 

So there I am.. in a typical fuckstorm of a situation that I usually find myself in and cannot get out of, but instead of being in panic mode, I completely shut down. I walked with no emotion or purpose.. a complete zombie of myself and went to the nearest Irish pub for a drink (or 5). I didn't want to be sober if I didn't get the pop up at exactly 8:00 (since I ended my test at 3:15 and they went down for five hours of maintenance at 3:00. Yeah, the story of my life). I couldn't handle my zombieness just lingering in my house like some negative and lifeless energy for my son to feed off of, so I took us to a movie. I couldn't even tell you what it was, THAT is how unfocused on anything else I was. I didn't care that my son was eating his weight in overly salted popcorn, or that there were more sexual innuendos than I had expected.. I just needed to KNOW. It was PURE TORTURE. As the credits rolled up it was 7:45, and I got a text message from my friend that said the site was back up and working.

HOLY SHIT. Was I ready?! 

I quickly signed in and attempted to sign up again when, sure enough, there it was: "the good pop-up" 

For good measure, and just to reassure myself that it is indeed real and I AM ACTUALLY a registered nurse, I'll post it again.

THERE. There it is. No notification email, no congratulatory letter, nothing. Just  the pop-up that changed my life. I cried UNCONTROLLABLY outside of the theater bathroom & once again inside my car. I do not use that loosely... I actually sobbed. I had black mascara running all over my face and sugar drunk couples looking at me like I was a crazy person, but I just didn't care. 

I WAS FREE.

My son hugged and kissed me and said, "I'm so proud of you mommy, you did it!", and finally, after so many years of not feeling like I was getting anywhere, I actually felt like I did. I DID IT. I crossed the finish line and I deserved to cry my eyes out in joy (which I did for about 15 full minutes in my car, again, until my son whined about probably wanting something I wasn't going to give him, per usual). I went home, fixed my face and went to work, but with a different outlook on my whole stripper life: it was coming to an end. 

Fuck you guys!! I don't care anymore because I'm a fucking RN now and I don't need you. 

Yah. ABOUT THAT.

Fast forward exactly 2 months later from "NCLEX DAY". I have applied to over 30 positions, have had one interview for some sellout surgery center (but fuck it, work is work right?), and since I was supposed to hear from them by Tuesday and it is now Wednesday, I am just throwing that position in the "it wasn't meant to be" bin. 

I guess I always pictured post-NCLEX life to be just as it is: beach days with friends, alcohol flowing at random times of the day without guilt & vacationing without reason. It is great, it truly is. I can't complain that I'm just miserable or that I'm not having a blast and enjoying my freedom. But, like I said, I am the anxious one. I am the one that my circle of friends watch out for because at a moments notice I can be hyperventilating with my joints locking up (respiratory alkalosis anyone?) and needing a paper bag & a shot of Ativan to bring me back to normal. So, with paper bag in hand, my anxious self is just that: ANXIOUS.

What will the next month bring me? Can I get into a new grad program? What if I take the first job I can get and I can't get into an OR position? Will I need to move out of state for work? How will that impact my baby panda? 

I expected the hunt, but I didn't expect to feel hunted. I can only describe my first failed interview to be compared to that of an animal lured with such enticing bait only to be slain with no regard for humane practices. Could I at least have gotten a call? A rejection letter? I have applied for more than 20 actual hospitals and only 1 has even taken the time to send out a rejection letter. 

IS NOT THAT THE HUMANE THING TO DO?!

Ugh.

 

The hunted. I am the hunted. 

It's funny how I thought I might actually be the one with a choice, or at least the direction, but no.

I am merely a dumb deer.

I can only hope that I can change my strategy and start feeling like the HUNTER. A hunter who knows her intelligence and skill so that to choose wisely and aim precisely, and hopefully come home with a head to display on the wall. To be honest, I just can't be a stripper anymore.