32 days.
Could this please be over?
It’s my least favorite part, the waiting, the nagging, the constant feeling of having forgotten something despite my trusty Martha Stewart lists. Could I please just be married to the boy already? I am excited to be married. I am no longer excited to have a wedding. I’m tired of my wedding.

For some reason (read: money) I’ve taken on some extra stuff at work for another department, so that means working at home instead of watching The Voice or Thursday Night Football. And it’s killing me because I miss Adam Levine and I am driving myself to more and more physical pain by doing this. I have a nerve problem in my right arm and between thank you notes and my regular job, it’s always aggravated and sometimes I’m just clutching my arm, silently screaming. I’m back to left-handed mousing. I have to have nerve transfer surgery the week after my wedding. Happy honeymoon to me.

So why volunteer to do the extra work?

I need to get out of here. I have to do SOMETHING. I am sick of being called a communications coordinator and doing nothing more than making a shitty newsletter nobody reads, posters that other people take credit for, and covering the tails of people who can’t figure out how to order a sandwich from Jimmy John’s or save a Word document as a PDF. It’s built into Office 2007, people. Leave me alone. I want more than this. I can do more than this. I am trying to prove it to somebody, to anybody who will give me a chance to do it.

The process of proving myself is terrifying.

I had an interview disguised as a lunch with some people in a department that’s rejected me before. I am cautiously optimistic, but only because I was invited to apply, so it’s not exactly a cold call. And it’s like a sock in the gut to feel like I’m setting myself up to do this again, but I am at the end of my rope here. If it doesn’t happen this time, I’m doing what I least want to do and leaving the company that has been good to me for 10 years. I will be aggressive and i will find something else. I love healthcare. I love THIS HOSPITAL and I believe so, so much in the work we do and in the skills and the vision of the people here. I’ve been in the boardrooms and I’ve been in the ER bed and I’ve been under the knife in the ORs more than once. I WANT TO STAY HERE. And I will sell the shit out of this place if they let me.

There are many people here who appreciate my work, who thank me for my help with their sandwiches and PDFs and who are kind and lovely souls. But I can’t build a career on platitudes.

If anyone says “at least you have a job,” or “be patient,” they’d better duck and cover. I’m not an idiot. I’m frustrated. Good enough is not enough, and I am tired of being afraid to push my boundaries. I’m tired of dreading my work day and dreading rejection. I’m ready to be the good kind of afraid, the kind that comes with the jitters of leaping into an unknown that’s full of the promise of something different and the chance for something better.

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