No, this post is not about dating. I'm done thinking about that remember? I've got bigger fish to fry anyways.
If you're new to my blog or to my life, let me catch you up. I'm having a quarter life crisis. From the outside, all appears wonderful and blissful. I have a family that loves me, a great job where I get to take care of sick little babies all day, I own my own house, I have two great dogs...what more could I want right?
Well all of that is just fucking dandy. Yes, I swore. Don't get me wrong I am EXTREMELY grateful for all of my fortunes and I know I have everyone except myself to thank for them, mainly my parents and God.
But the truth is, I'm screaming inside for someone to tell me what to do. In my last post I talked about how I've been struggling with volunteering. I've always been very passionate about rescue dogs. In college I wrote a business plan for my own dog rescue, "Changed for Good," named after the song from Wicked. Wicked is an inspiration for all things in my life but especially my passion for animals, because, I'm the one that has been changed for good by my two rescue pups. But for a lack of money and know how I became a nurse by profession and recently started volunteering again at a local shelter to try and fill that void.
Instead, the void has become a deep pit and I find myself in tears every time I leave the shelter. My sister thinks that I need to keep going, that it is "stirring something up inside of me, and that's a good thing." And part of me wants to just kick myself and force myself up from my fetal position and get on with it. Life sucks, mine doesn't, so quit crying and get a move on helping those in need.
Part of my problem is my growing dissatisfaction with my job. The 12 hour + days are kicking my ass. My motivation is waning (is that a real word?) and my lack of a desire to continue my education in this field is concerning. I love the babies and their families but it's not enough for my heart right now.
So back to the root of my problem, the little voice inside my head that is screaming for me to figure out what my purpose is, what path to take. Right now I can't even find the path, I'm a blind man crawling in the forest grasping for anything that resembles a path to jump on.
I've recently started eating healthy and "natural." I have a real interest in having a garden this summer and as I was researching "how to grow an organic vegetable garden" on the interweb I stumbled across this amazing blog Farm Girl Fare.
This amazing middle aged woman up and moved from California to middle of nowhere Missouri and became a farmer. Now, I have no intention of moving to middle of nowhere anywhere but at the same time I'm jealous of her. I want a huge garden and chickens and donkeys and a dog sanctuary.
When I told this to my mom, she asked me where this woman got all her money. Humph. Money, the ever lasting problem. And now they've increased the cost of the powerball tickets making it less likely for me to play and win.
How can I live organically, somewhere beautiful where I don't have to hear the beer bottles of my neighbor clinking outside my window, where my kids can pick fresh vegetables from my garden and learn that chickens are pets, not food (for some reason I can't consciously explain, I've been picking the chicken out of my food lately) and yet not be isolated and still have community and be close enough to go see Wicked and go to the dog beach and drop my kids off at grandma's house and go out to a nice restaurant.
If you know where this place exists, please let me know. I want a rural urban life. And I want to save animals and rescue homeless and abandoned dogs. I have no money, but all the heart.
I've been applying for second jobs to increase my bank account so that someday I might be able to do something about my unsettled-ness. Some of them are nursing related and some are not. I have no idea what I want to do, it's in God's hands. All I know is I do not want to watch Eunice's face in the window anymore as I pull out of my driveway in the morning, not to return for 13 hours.
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