6 days vacation & other random thoughts
I took a 6 day vacation by myself last Thursday, so I've been away from computers for quite a while. The vacation was a much needed breath of fresh air and time for soul searching. This year has been one of the hardest and saddest of my life so far, yet at the same time I've found so many reasons for hope and happiness. Most of the reasons for the above are too personal to put into words in this forum, but as a result, I needed some time to put things in perspective to make some hard decisions about my life. The main thing that I've learned is that there is no way to postpone a decision... that even if you do nothing, you have made a choice and your life will follow the direction dictated by that choice.
I spent the last 6 days exploring places both familiar and foreign to me. One of my adventures was a 20+ bike ride roundtrip to a little college town. While I didn't get an official population count, I'd be surprised if the town had more than a few thousand residents, even with the full college student population there. Once I got there, I sat and had lunch at a local restaurant, and sat for an hour observing small town life. Upon finishing the ride, I sat for a while, reflecting on my sense of accomplishment for doing this trip by myself. It's not something I'd usually attempt alone, and I did just fine. I felt serene, connected with my surroundings, and both physically exhausted and mentally euphoric.
Another adventure was participating in a handgun training class. The class was one of the most difficult things I'd ever done before. My career position is an unarmed one. I have never had formal handgun training. Before this class, the only experience I'd had with a handgun was a 2 hour excursion to an indoor shooting range. The rest of the class appeared to have comfortable, if not extensive knowledge of their capabilities with handguns... and then there was me.
I have always been terrified to try anything new that might involve making a fool out of myself in front of anyone. I can remember a time when I was about 11. My family went to Cape Cod to visit my grandparents at their campground cottage for the 4th of July. The campground had a traditional picnic and field day during the holiday. One of the events was a foot race around the campground. All of the kids were going to participate in it, and I was excited about entering also. I remember my aunt letting me borrow her running shoes, since all I had were the old fashioned Keds. My whole family was there to support my effort in the race. We all lined up at the start line and waited for the whistle with our families cheering us on. Once the whistle blew, the pack took off down the street. I hung with the pack all the way to the first corner, but that was pretty much the last I saw of them. Everyone began to pull away from me... even the younger kids. By the time I made it around the second corner, I could see a blur, through my tears, of most of the racers rounding the third corner. From that point I simply ran back to grandma's house and up to my room. I never did finish the race, or go back to the picnic out of fear of humiliation. I couldn't stand the feeling that I would be the object of anyone's pity or scorn because I couldn't manage to keep up with the rest of the group. My mother and my aunt came looking for me eventually. One to console me for my perceived humiliation, the other to tell me that everyone was worried that I had gotten sick or hurt. I wasn't physically sick or hurt... emotionally was another story. Both wanted me to come back to the picnic, but neither pushed. Looking back, I wish they had made me return to the picnic, because I might have learned much earlier in life that all most people expect from you is to give your best shot at what you attempt. It's much more impotant and rewarding to try new activities, even if you find that they aren't something you wish to continue, then to live your whole life regretting that you never took the chance.
Anyway, back at the class, every time the instructor looked at me to signal that it was my turn to shoot, my stomach would attempt to exit my body via the southern route while my heart took the opposite leap up to my throat. It's difficult to function when you are experiencing these sensations. The best I could do was to try to disguise my panic with indifference. (By the way, indifference is NOT a good thing with handguns.) My head was screaming "What are you doing here? You barely know how to load one of these things, much less do anything else with one... how are you going to unload and clear the chamber without making a fool of yourself, HMMM?" I took a deep, calming breath and went for my turn, and didn't do half bad. I ran into a few problems when my weapon began to jam pretty regularly. That was stressful, since my entire goal was to not stand out in the class as a neophyte. With each jam, I became more stressed and frustrated. Luckily, the instructor was very patient and reassuring thoughout the class. During a break he offered to test the gun I was using, and he had the same problems that I'd had. (What a relief to know that it wasn't from my error!) He'd brought an extra gun with him and offered to let me use it for the remainder of the class, which I gratefully took him up on. The rest of the class went without any further problems. We tried all sorts of different defensive positions during the class, which I'm not going to get into here, but by the end of the class I'd say that I felt comfortable with my new skills. I even managed to pass the final proficiency test at the end of the day. That class was among the hardest things I've ever done because it required precise thought and physical action on my part, in front of an audience, with a measurable result at the end. Give me a written test any day and chances are I'll score 90-100%, but make me perform a practical test and you'll have my insides churning like cream into butter. My fight or flight instinct already has tickets to some Caribbean hideaway. But if I manage to stick it out and complete the task, I invaribly do just fine and come away with an incredible sense of accomplishment and self-worth. This class was just such an experience. One that I feel all the richer for experiencing.
After my soul searching vacation ended, I came to a decision that seems rather abrupt to most of the people that know me. My sister called it my 'random thought.' I decided to apply to medical school. It's been a thought that whispered itself in my head from time to time, but never very loudly until recently. I'd never brought the subject up seriously with anyone until I spoke with my sister about it this morning, partly as a sounding board, and partly to try to convince her to do the same. Medical school has always been her dream. It has been an idea that I have toyed with on and off since high school. During and immediately after college, I didn't feel ready to take on the responsibility of a medical degree and caring for sick and injured people. I was much more interested in the environmental biology, ecology, forestry and outdoor recreation. Now, 7 years into my career, I'm ready for a bigger challenge. I often joked that I'd go to medical school when I was 40 or 50, but I've reached a cross road in my life now and it's time to make my decision. I am determined to take the saddness and disappointments of the past year or so and find a way to turn them into a positive experience for both me and my children. As is typical for me, I'm REALLY nervous about taking the steps to making medical school a reality. But just writing it down in a public place confirms for me that I will pursue this to my degree.
Wish me luck!
I spent the last 6 days exploring places both familiar and foreign to me. One of my adventures was a 20+ bike ride roundtrip to a little college town. While I didn't get an official population count, I'd be surprised if the town had more than a few thousand residents, even with the full college student population there. Once I got there, I sat and had lunch at a local restaurant, and sat for an hour observing small town life. Upon finishing the ride, I sat for a while, reflecting on my sense of accomplishment for doing this trip by myself. It's not something I'd usually attempt alone, and I did just fine. I felt serene, connected with my surroundings, and both physically exhausted and mentally euphoric.
Another adventure was participating in a handgun training class. The class was one of the most difficult things I'd ever done before. My career position is an unarmed one. I have never had formal handgun training. Before this class, the only experience I'd had with a handgun was a 2 hour excursion to an indoor shooting range. The rest of the class appeared to have comfortable, if not extensive knowledge of their capabilities with handguns... and then there was me.
I have always been terrified to try anything new that might involve making a fool out of myself in front of anyone. I can remember a time when I was about 11. My family went to Cape Cod to visit my grandparents at their campground cottage for the 4th of July. The campground had a traditional picnic and field day during the holiday. One of the events was a foot race around the campground. All of the kids were going to participate in it, and I was excited about entering also. I remember my aunt letting me borrow her running shoes, since all I had were the old fashioned Keds. My whole family was there to support my effort in the race. We all lined up at the start line and waited for the whistle with our families cheering us on. Once the whistle blew, the pack took off down the street. I hung with the pack all the way to the first corner, but that was pretty much the last I saw of them. Everyone began to pull away from me... even the younger kids. By the time I made it around the second corner, I could see a blur, through my tears, of most of the racers rounding the third corner. From that point I simply ran back to grandma's house and up to my room. I never did finish the race, or go back to the picnic out of fear of humiliation. I couldn't stand the feeling that I would be the object of anyone's pity or scorn because I couldn't manage to keep up with the rest of the group. My mother and my aunt came looking for me eventually. One to console me for my perceived humiliation, the other to tell me that everyone was worried that I had gotten sick or hurt. I wasn't physically sick or hurt... emotionally was another story. Both wanted me to come back to the picnic, but neither pushed. Looking back, I wish they had made me return to the picnic, because I might have learned much earlier in life that all most people expect from you is to give your best shot at what you attempt. It's much more impotant and rewarding to try new activities, even if you find that they aren't something you wish to continue, then to live your whole life regretting that you never took the chance.
Anyway, back at the class, every time the instructor looked at me to signal that it was my turn to shoot, my stomach would attempt to exit my body via the southern route while my heart took the opposite leap up to my throat. It's difficult to function when you are experiencing these sensations. The best I could do was to try to disguise my panic with indifference. (By the way, indifference is NOT a good thing with handguns.) My head was screaming "What are you doing here? You barely know how to load one of these things, much less do anything else with one... how are you going to unload and clear the chamber without making a fool of yourself, HMMM?" I took a deep, calming breath and went for my turn, and didn't do half bad. I ran into a few problems when my weapon began to jam pretty regularly. That was stressful, since my entire goal was to not stand out in the class as a neophyte. With each jam, I became more stressed and frustrated. Luckily, the instructor was very patient and reassuring thoughout the class. During a break he offered to test the gun I was using, and he had the same problems that I'd had. (What a relief to know that it wasn't from my error!) He'd brought an extra gun with him and offered to let me use it for the remainder of the class, which I gratefully took him up on. The rest of the class went without any further problems. We tried all sorts of different defensive positions during the class, which I'm not going to get into here, but by the end of the class I'd say that I felt comfortable with my new skills. I even managed to pass the final proficiency test at the end of the day. That class was among the hardest things I've ever done because it required precise thought and physical action on my part, in front of an audience, with a measurable result at the end. Give me a written test any day and chances are I'll score 90-100%, but make me perform a practical test and you'll have my insides churning like cream into butter. My fight or flight instinct already has tickets to some Caribbean hideaway. But if I manage to stick it out and complete the task, I invaribly do just fine and come away with an incredible sense of accomplishment and self-worth. This class was just such an experience. One that I feel all the richer for experiencing.
After my soul searching vacation ended, I came to a decision that seems rather abrupt to most of the people that know me. My sister called it my 'random thought.' I decided to apply to medical school. It's been a thought that whispered itself in my head from time to time, but never very loudly until recently. I'd never brought the subject up seriously with anyone until I spoke with my sister about it this morning, partly as a sounding board, and partly to try to convince her to do the same. Medical school has always been her dream. It has been an idea that I have toyed with on and off since high school. During and immediately after college, I didn't feel ready to take on the responsibility of a medical degree and caring for sick and injured people. I was much more interested in the environmental biology, ecology, forestry and outdoor recreation. Now, 7 years into my career, I'm ready for a bigger challenge. I often joked that I'd go to medical school when I was 40 or 50, but I've reached a cross road in my life now and it's time to make my decision. I am determined to take the saddness and disappointments of the past year or so and find a way to turn them into a positive experience for both me and my children. As is typical for me, I'm REALLY nervous about taking the steps to making medical school a reality. But just writing it down in a public place confirms for me that I will pursue this to my degree.
Wish me luck!
posted by VA girl at 10:33 PM
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