Until recently, I’ve been dabbling my career in subacute-skilled facilities. The “medical side,” for the lack of a better way to put things. I have spent nearly 6 months away from the field…only to find out that I’m back in psych.
Fml. *mic drop*
Last night, commenced my first day, full-time, off training, in charge of an acute psych inpatient unit…again. At about 1740, a nursing assistant (mental health worker…behavioral health specialist…Oh for heavens sake, stop changing the title) yelled to me “SOMEONE IS TRYING TO AWOL!”
My evening summed up = AWOL + COMBAT + HURT RIB + SPIT ON MY FACE + IMs + MIND NUMBING PAPERWORK = I HAVE NO IDEA WHY I’M BACK IN PSYCH! #Sigh.
From time to time, I still think about my old nursing teachers and classmates asking me…”What do you plan on specializing in?” And if you’d ask me back then, 100% of the time, it was always in question. But, I definitely would have never thought I’d be in psych.
Perhaps, I’m a mess too (who am I kidding, my ass is a #hotmess)…maybe my craziness attracts my own subconscious intentions to drive myself back into the field. A place where I can be one with my own mentality. A place to be one with peers. A place where I can feel in control. A place where I can be the sane one. I shake my head, just thinking about it. I don’t know…maybe I’m just used to it.
I’m used to hearing someone scream ridiculousness, on a consistent basis. I’m used to jumping from 0-60, on a code green. I’m used to the mind numbing restraint and seclusion packets. I’m used to talking to the wall, with someone who isolates. I’m used to redirecting the internally preoccupied. I’m used to taking care of the bi-polars, the major depressives, the staff splitters, the med seekers, the med cheekers, the hypersexuals, the detoxing ones, and on and on.
I guess, in sense…I’m back home. I suppose that means something…like I was never meant to leave.
Cheers to myself…
P.S. Sorry to all my readers and followers! I know it’s been a while, since I’ve posted.