Two weeks into Virginia, I've waded through the emotions of moving. It's been a shallow wade, nothing strenuous, but the necessary steps were followed.
My succession of thoughts:
First: "I'll never stay here. No one should bother to visit."
Second: "It isn't that bad. I can handle this."
Third: "I like it here, maybe I'll stay a while."
Suffice it to say, I am doing fine.
Questioning the VA system at first, I wondered in orientation why the emphasis seemed to be on the probationary periods of employment, after which, "You cannot be fired!" I've always considered my job security as a basis of my ability, production, and attitude. So I wondered what sort of folks were looking for this type of job. I had some concerns.
After an adequate yet not excessive period of orientation to the VA and the computer system (five days), I entered the trenches of patient care. Every time I'm away from my profession, I get this feeling that I've outgrown it, that I need to find something new. Yet I find when I'm actually doing my job, thinking and working, and making connections, I'm filled up in a way that confirms this was a good choice in career for me.
The first couple days were fairly hairy, feeling overwhelmed at the complex patients and computer charting. (Every job has a different computer system, even if the last place I worked was the Army.) But it was a fairly steep learning curve. The kindness of the patients, coupled with that of my staff, has made the transition rather seamless, and fun. I've enjoyed my two weeks of service and look forward to learning more in the upcoming months.
The glitch is, I don't know where I will be come April. This is exciting and fearsome. I feel that my days of wandering aimlessly are numbered, as I wouldn't mind to be in a more settled place, both emotionally and physically. The wanderer is inside me forever, and will resurface. I am certain I'll live abroad again. (I would bet my life savings.) But I think maybe a period of contemplation, repose and reconnection is upon me.