Running Away & A God Who Talks Back

Earlier this year I made a career change from being a permanent staff nurse at an ER in Oklahoma City to being a traveling nurse. Traveling nurses are temporary staff.  They take contracts that typically last 13 weeks. You go wherever you find a contract—it's a gypsy lifestyle.  I had always wanted to do traveling nursing; it sounded great for my career, it would help me pay off my undergrad student loans, and I could see the country 13 weeks at a time.  I was intrigued.  Then I hit a point in my life where I needed an escape, and traveling nursing sounded like my golden ticket.

I had started going to counseling a couple of months before and barely scratched the surface of things I'd never talked about.  After a few weeks I felt like I wasn't making any progress (and I get annoyed when I'm not good at something), so I stopped going.  The last time I saw my counselor I told her that I was trying to find a job as a traveling nurse and she said, "I think that sounds wonderful.  And I want you to travel, but I don't want you to run.  There is a difference."  I swore that I wasn't running from the very things I could never seem to talk about on her couch.   A few months later I also walked away from a relationship that wasn't really ever a relationship but I was hurt and heartbroken.  Everything seemed like it was falling apart, like all the plates I had been spinning began to wobble and they'd come crashing down at any second.  I was working two jobs.  I felt like I wasn't keeping up with being a good family member and friend.  I felt like I was treading water.  I felt like a failure.  I felt unwanted.  I felt suffocated.  I was tired, and I didn't want any of it anymore.  I didn't want two jobs and heartbreak and to pretend that I was fine when I was a complete mess on the inside.  I was desperate and cornered, and I prayed (begged), "God, get me out of here. I can't be here anymore. Please. I'm not running, I promise. I just can't be here anymore. Please get me a way out of here."

I'd been applying for some traveling contracts in my home state with no luck, then one Tuesday afternoon I randomly got a call about a contract in North Carolina.  I was desperate, so I applied and got a phone interview that afternoon and got offered the job 20 minutes later.  I was sitting in the parking lot of my gym and I don't even think I gave my recruiter a chance to finish her whole sentence before I said, "Yes. I accept. What do I need to sign to make it official?"  And when I hung up the phone I sat in my car, hot tears streaming down my cheeks, head laid back against the seat, eyes closed.  It was a moment mixed with "what the hell did I just do?" and "Thank you Jesus. Thank you Jesus. Thank you Jesus."

Then I called my Mom and said, "Hey!  I'm moving to North Carolina...."

So I moved 1200 miles from OKC to Eden, North Carolina.  Eden, like the Garden. When I heard the name of the town, I couldn't help but give Jesus an imaginary thumbs up.  How poetic of You.  Eden.  I felt like Jesus was giving me a chance to take a breath, pursue a dream, explore, do something new in me.  Somewhere on the 20 hour drive to Eden I thought, I promise I will try not to screw this one up like Eve did.  Just don't put an Oreo tree anywhere and we're good, okay?

A week in to my new job/life I sat in a church in Greensboro on a Sunday morning.  I was exhausted and still terrified of all the newness, but so thankful.  I thought all the things that were suffocating me were 1200 miles behind me, and I thought the 3 months ahead of me would allow to me to catch my breath and heal.  And on that Sunday morning I scribbled down a tired and honest prayer: "Leave me here.  As long as it takes for me to learn whatever it is that you have for me.  Leave me undone and uncomfortable, don't let me plow through.  Sit and work, unravel, unwind.  Whatever it is you have to do in my heart that I wouldn't let you do in Oklahoma, do it here in North Carolina.  Whatever you're doing in this discomfort, I'll hate it but I'll love you for it.  So leave me here, show me what you have for me here."

Fast forward to several weeks in to my contract.  I was sitting on my yoga mat one night in the middle of the living room, because yoga teaches you to focus on your breath, and sometimes sitting on that mat is a tangible reminder for me to breathe even if I'm not doing yoga.  I know I sound like a hippy/nut job, but stay with me.  I was having a rough week and I felt panicked and frustrated, hence why I made myself sit on my yoga mat and breathe.  I thought I was supposed to be healing out there.  But healing looked different than I thought it would.  I thought it would mean forgetting, but instead it meant a lot of remembering.  After sitting for awhile, I started praying.  I didn't know what else to do and I was confused. Why is this happening?  What is going on?  Why are all of these that I was supposed to forget magnified out here instead of going away?  That's not how this was supposed to go.  This is uncomfortable.  What are You doing?  (I was actually more mad than frustrated).  And He gently, patiently, answered back.  You asked for this, Kenz.  You asked me to do something, and I am.  What you're trying to keep buried, I want you to dig up.  Dig it up, do the work.  Healing is active, so if that's what you want, you're going to have to do the work, Kenz."  ....Oh.

So then I was sitting on my yoga mat frowning.  Well...shit.  That's not what I had meant when I prayed that little prayer on that one Sunday morning.  (I think that's part where He laughs at me: when I'm annoyed that things don't go how I had originally planned).

I had promised over and over that I wasn't running from my problems, but I was totally running from my problems.  It was like I had gathered all my problems and given them this pep talk: Okay guys, I'm going to move and you guys are going to stay here okay?  I'm going to forget all about you!  So dumb, I know.  

I had lost 20 pounds since the summer, cut my hair off, and then moved across the country...and I didn't feel any different.  How painfully quarter-life-crisis of me, right?  But I really thought I would feel different.  Until I didn't, because I hadn't actually dealt with anything.  I had just moved it all around and played an emotional game of tetris trying to shove it all away somewhere. 

So, that's what I'm learning: you can cut off all the hair you want, lose however much weight you can, run mile after mile in new running shoes, go to hours of yoga classes, change jobs, move across the country... but your issues will still be your issues and you won't feel okay if you're not really okay (read that as many times as you need).

North Carolina wasn't just all nights of sitting on my yoga mat frustrated and confused.  I had so much fun and learned a lot of good things professionally and about myself.  I met incredible people and some of them became family.  I'm thankful to be pursuing this dream of traveling nursing, but even more thankful for a patient God who is teaching me things along the way.

So here's to running away and coming back, and to the God of them both who will whisper back to you on your yoga mat.

P.S. I'm still traveling but I'm not figuratively running anymore, so no worries.  I really am following a dream of mine and learning a lot professionally, too, and I'm excited to be doing it.   

P.S.S Sometimes I actually practice yoga instead of just sitting on the mat, in case anyone was still stuck on that.