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We all know I hate my job… or my floor… or people in general… whatever.  The point is, I’m looking for alternatives.  Everyone says there are so many avenues in nursing but everyone fails to point out that, 1) those avenues are rarely open to you unless you have 2+ years floor experience or a higher degree and 2) those avenues involve abstract titles, leaving you wondering how the heck you get from point A to point B.

For instance.  Fellow nurses tell me, “Why don’t you look into research?”  I ask them what a research nurse really does.  “Well, ya know, they help with trials and stuff.”  What does that actually mean, I ask.  They fumble.  Pause.  “Ya know, I don’t actually know what they do.”

That seems to be a trend in healthcare.  Titles exist but rarely does anyone know what the in and outs of the job truly are.  So it takes research and time to contact people who are involved in a certain area, to ask questions and find answers, to see if it’s something that’s worth exploring as a career path.  In the meantime, I’m stuck here.  Before each day of work I become depressed, anxious and sad.  Family and friends sense it and ask, “What’s wrong?”  I hate my job.  “Well, find another one.”

WOW, I never thought of that.  Now that you said it, I will definitely be spending my free time in the wee hours of the morning applying to anything that I am eligible for.  Thank you for changing my life!


It’s like treading water with an island in sight.  I can tread for a very long time and will swim toward the island, obviously.  But what do you do to cope, to survive, between the time in the water and the moment you step foot on dry land?

I have another part time job.  I volunteer.  I take part in a unique work out class.  I travel.  I spend time with friends.  I have my distractions at home but nothing takes away the agony of swiping my badge and walking onto the floor.  It is an all-consuming dread.  What can I do on the floor, in the moment, that is both productive and calming?

I decided to create a count down.  I officially have 77 more work days until my one year mark.  I chose my one year mark because if, at that time, I am not in a different position I will quit.  So worst case scenario, I have 77 more days of this crap until I’m entirely free.  For some reason “77 days” sounds more bearable than “6 months” or any other phrase that represents a seemingly unbearable amount of time.

It’s stupid but it gives me something solid to hold onto.  I lock myself in the nutrition room on the floor and repeat to myself, “This will pass.  Seventy-seven more days at most.  This will pass.”  It helps.

 Also, alcohol helps.  


What?  You know it’s true.