What the #%&! Am I Doing?

This week at work, amid the several hundred showers, I was recognizing a familiar feeling. I recognised the oddness and could place it, even dressed in scrubs and with gloves on my hands.

I'm not the only person who reads while on break. Outside of housekeeping, I'm the only person who hasn't obtained a bachelor's degree, and often recently it's popped into my head at work - while someone is swearing at having to triple chart something, or the strutting Machiavelli of a tech who is micromanaging the showering of patients -

WHAT THE HECK AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE???

My brain is practically rotting in my head during the day, and while I am excellent at what I do at work, and love helping people and having the patients I shower and help to the bathroom thank me profusely, I know I am wasting my intellect. My role at work has changed somewhat, with more responsibility and being the 'shower queen' because the higher ups know I have a brain and ability and I will get the job done. But what am I DOING? Sometimes doubt gnaws at my brain making me itchy and sleep awaits until sunrise.

Maybe when I go back to school, I've been thinking. I'm an excellent student. I was an Honor Roll student, for crying out loud. Took me forever, yes, but I was steady. But I've thought seriously of becoming a Physical therapist, but that's a four year degree. FOUR YEARS. At which realization my mind casually states "Because it's not like you have any other responsibilities, do you?"

The sarcasm stings like the salt water my thoughts are drowning in. I need to work.  When I did my taxes for last year, I was actually nauseous when I saw what my taxable income had been. How on earth will I manage on so little? While it was obvious that a huge part of my stress comes from budgeting everything so closely.

So when - miracle of miracles - I got my current job, the sudden, welcome, influx of money made an incredible difference in life, in our home, on my stress levels. The payoff being long hours away from my boys, and tiredness, yet I can see how the boys are also learning from my working. You work to support your family. Everyone needs to work to support the family. Work is hard. Work can be fun and satisfying. You do what you need to do for your family. It may be buying cereal, it may be listening to yet another excited story about the wonders of Medal of Honor or Pokemon, it may be waiting up way too late doing dishes, mopping the floor, cleaning up throw up, three times from Markus' friend, Dylan, spending the night tonight and once from Markus.

But time at home is already at a premium. I'm torn, trying to work out what I should be doing. I need to work, to make sure food's on the table, shoes are on feet, that there is the opportunity for fun and hockey and baking. I need to work.

You do what you need to do for your family. I have a job that I enjoy, that is happy to give me two weeks paid leave this year. I have a job that provides - and will continue to provide - the funds for cereal and a myriad of shoes for growing feet and hockey helmets and plans a plenty.

So what the ____ am I doing? I am working. I get satisfaction from my work, and the pay check is greeted with satisfaction and thanksgiving every week. I am wrestling with my demons, to make sure I am doing what I should be, for my sons and myself. I want to study, to graduate with a nursing degree but I don't even now if I will get in to the program. I wrestle my demons, arguing, pulling hair, and choke holds. They are scary, but sometimes bring clarity amid the bruises and sleepless nights.

I can get another degree, find a job that stretches me intellectually, but it can wait. It's going to have to. And for now, I'm satisfied with that decision, sprawled naked and dripping on the floor after a divorce. You do what you have to do for your family, despite and because of it all.

In the meantime, I write.

{End of school - Summer Blast party}