Welcome to the first episode of the Wild Thing podcast.
This is the real meat and potatoes episode that you've been dying to hear.
This is for anybody who's asked what my plans are for the future.
I'm going to tell you.
I'm going to tell you everything.
I'm even going to add some backstory, just for a little flourish.
For those who don't already know, my name is Marcel.
I'm a 30-something year old female who's been working as a registered nurse in the ER for years.
The second half of my career being primarily a travel nurse.
I've done contracts in both Canada and the USA, although Canada's home to me.
The purpose of this podcast is going to detail what I plan to do with my life.
I plan to share the experiences around the decision I've made and what's led to this point,
how it unfolds, everything in between.
So here it is.
Here's what comes next for me in my journey after the contract in Saskatchewan ended early September.
The truth is, I really don't know.
I made the decision to take some time off work without expectations regarding the career.
What it looks like right now is probably three to four months off,
and it's been a long time since I've had a real break.
And I won't put it lightly, it's taken a toll on me and my entire being.
So my priority is rest.
I want to reconnect with myself and my mental health.
But, not so fast.
You should all know me well enough by now to know that this isn't the full story.
I've held off as long as I can in announcing this, simply because I've been so disorganized,
exhausted, and honestly scared to share this piece of my plan with you.
Essentially, I'm taking steps to leave the bedside behind, to pursue some of my passions,
hone my talents, and just see where life takes me.
I want to live according to me, how I feel my life should be lived.
I want to feel fulfilled, and I want to live life on my own terms.
This starts with tapping into a side of myself that I haven't fully explored yet,
my artistic and creative passions.
I've always been very creative.
When I was younger, I would draw.
I sometimes dabbled in painting, and I've always been pulled towards the craft of writing.
When I was younger, I would fill duetangs.
Remember those? With short stories.
Story outlines, novel ideas.
Even now, when life is busy, my notepad in my phone is filled with notes
that are almost fully laid out novel ideas and story ideas.
Poetry and prose? Hundreds of works exist, a vast majority of which remain unseen.
And when life was too busy to sustain any sort of hobby at all,
I've always kept up with writing in the form of a journal.
So, my friends, end of September is where it begins.
I have a weekend getaway planned, a writing retreat with an author who has greatly inspired me over the last few years.
It's a retreat with workshops focusing on emotional writing, connecting trauma through story,
and about the general world of writing, becoming an author.
It takes place in a gorgeous spiritual retreat that will allow time for yoga, meditation, hiking in the mountains, all between our scheduled sessions.
These are all aspects of self-care in which I indulge regularly in order to stay mentally and spiritually healthy.
That's the beginning of my journey, where I hit the road, where I follow my soul wherever it takes me, and document absolutely all of it.
A little hush-hush secret I need to now announce and has been posted already at this point.
A few months ago, I bought myself the most perfect trailer.
I plan to leave home fully stocked and ready to go, and I don't plan on looking back for some time.
I really need this to be free. To let my creative spirit free.
I plan to camp, boondock, and just let my creative spirit take flight. Go where it takes me.
I can't even fathom how much creative inspiration I'm going to come across, but I'm so excited for whatever comes next.
I'm going to indulge in any writing urges that crop up.
If I want to stop and paint a gorgeous landscape as it inspires me to do so, I will, rather than just letting it rot in my notepad as something to do in the future when I have time.
Most importantly, rest, sleep, nap, take days to do nothing but sit in my cozy camp chair snuggled up to a good book, podcast, music, or simply the silence and sound of the outdoors.
I fully plan to mix that in with the things I love spending time doing, cycling on perfect paths through beautiful landscapes, hiking trails I've had on the back burner for months, and discovering more, and anything that really pops up in between.
I'm entering what I like to call my spiritual pilgrimage era, and you guys are coming with me through this podcast, through my social media, and someday, a book.
My goal for this is pure transparency on everything within this journey. Good, bad, ugly, I want to include it all.
You see, this journey isn't just about resting, it's also about repair, discovery, growth.
I've been open and honest with everyone about many of my struggles with mental health, especially after the pandemic.
But the truth is, I've been struggling again for a good while now, and I think it's time to open up about it.
I tell myself, you just never know who's listening, who may need to hear these words.
Not everyone can afford the time or money to uproot themselves, and nor do they necessarily want to, in the same way that I am now, but I think there will be a lot of insightful and helpful things that I will learn and can share,
even if it's just being able to connect with you guys in a meaningful and vulnerable way, so that we can all know that we're human, and we have similar feelings.
These things are not often talked about. Right now, as I record this, I am announcing, I am utterly, completely burned out and exhausted.
I mentally cannot cope or handle the way which my life is going, and has gone for some time now.
Most days, one foot in front of the other is as good as I can give, and I just can't do it anymore.
Let's talk about it. Let's get into the why.
I grew up being well aware I was different from others.
I could see it in the way people responded to me in my behavior, the way my peers would shun me, and the way I was always left to feel like I didn't quite belong,
the way that I was always questioning the things around me and the why, where I was essentially told, it doesn't matter, it's just how it is, you need to follow the rules and the way that things are.
I grew up a loner, I was bullied and set apart from the rest, and that didn't change for a long time, if ever.
Even today, I feel like I don't belong most places, though my perspective has shifted in the reasons why.
The education side of things growing up didn't help, I was left to feel like I had something wrong with me.
Why was it so hard for me to succeed, to get good grades?
Why couldn't I just do what everybody else was doing? Why couldn't I focus, pay attention?
The teacher would start talking and before I knew it, I had drifted away into a world in my mind, and when we put pen to paper,
I desperately searched around the room to see if I could find clues as to what we were supposed to be doing in that moment.
As I got older, in university, the same struggles remained.
We would do lectures and I would need to reformat how it was taught so I could teach it to myself.
I used a voice recorder and I would take notes and then reteach myself in the evenings.
As a child, my report cards were littered with comments. She doesn't pay attention, she needs to focus.
She makes careless mistakes.
The real issue was the way that society operates and has operated for many years.
A formal education system designed to train youth to accomplish what the greater plan asks of us.
Follow the rules, conform, output what is asked of you.
The quote,
If you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, that fish will forever believe it's stupid.
Has never rang more true than with someone like me.
After all that, can you blame me for having the belief that I am not competent, not smart enough, simply just not enough?
I struggled while in school because I just didn't learn the way the education system presented the information.
I had different learning styles and needs.
As a result, I was led to believe I was subpar, that I didn't have special talents, no notable skills.
Much of what I was told without being told directly was I just needed to get through high school and then figure something out at the end.
Just pass, just focus on getting through.
Who knew what that even meant?
It was just hanging on, step by step, until I could walk across that stage with a grade 12 education.
Unbeknownst to me, there were moments throughout my life that were occurring that now really stick out to me and I think about them often.
These are little moments in time when I felt seen, heard, and appreciated.
And I'm going to share them with you because I think they're very important, especially at this point in my journey.
When I was in the 10th grade, I decided to share a poem with a teacher that I had written about suicide, something I'd written in support of a friend who had expressed ideation.
The teacher thought it was really good.
She asked if I could read it in front of the class, and I did.
Thereafter, I signed a document providing them permission to include it into the school curriculum to read to future students in the course.
This is something that I had forgotten and only resurfaced when I started reflecting on my ability as a writer.
I had a karaoke machine in my room and would sing over songs I loved, recording them.
I remember I recorded an Avril Lavigne song and for some reason I let my art teacher listen to it.
She immediately brought me to the music teacher.
They insisted I must join music class and do vocal lessons and start performing.
I didn't do it.
I was too scared.
I found every excuse and I talked to myself out of it.
In the 11th grade and in nursing school, much of the poster board presentations were handmade by me.
Instead of printing papers and sticking them to Bristol boards, I would use acrylic to paint what I wanted to show.
In sketchbooks, I would draw anatomically correct pieces we had been examining in lab.
I remember I did a project on the GI system and painted a large scale replica of the entire system.
The teacher was shocked as if I had taken the time to do that for a science project.
He told me at the time he wished he could give me bonuses for creativity.
That same project, it was a 30 minute oral presentation about the digestive tract and its importance to the human body.
When all was said and done, the teacher held me back after class to ask what my career goals were for the future.
I want to be a doctor, a GI surgeon specifically.
I had answered with such certainty.
What a shame.
You have such a strong voice.
You're not shy.
You're an excellent public speaker.
I think you would do great in a career that taps into this.
He was saying I could command a room.
Felt comfortable speaking to dozens of students and gave the impression I was comfortable doing it.
At the time I thought, what the fuck is this?
Is that even a real job?
How do you become a public speaker?
Do you go to school for that?
Is there a degree?
Is it even certifiable?
Foreshadowing.
But I now look back and think damn.
In society today, there's so many inspirational people who do presentations for a living.
People who are invited and get paid to do larger scale public speaking events.
Just think of TED Talks.
Many times over the years, I'd be approached by friends and family to help compose documents,
rebuttals, letters of resignation, formal papers.
I remember both of my parents telling me at multiple times, you're really good at writing.
I was told I sound professional.
And my mom joked, I don't even know where this comes from, but you have a way with words.
I was even asked to help edit APA formatting in first year university after completing the grueling 20-something professional papers we had to write and submit to finish out the year.
All these little moments slowly turned into this mountain I hold now and present to you.
I really hope more flashbacks like these will pop up into my life and I will diligently document them and hold onto them.
They're very precious to me.
Small moments where I was being told I was talented, seen for abilities I was born with that are unique to me and only me.
Unfortunately, talent wasn't viewed as a skill.
The focus ended up towards academics and sure shots.
The real careers, degrees, titles, certificates, certainty.
Over the years, I've shared some of my writing with my social media in the form of prose or poetry, primarily through Instagram.
It's a fun, creative way for me to have an outlet in the world, somewhere where I feel misunderstood.
Most of the time, I'm able to creatively word what I'm trying to say, though things end up sounding cryptic.
It helps allow for privacy and expression.
In sharing these pieces, I've noticed friends and family tell me, if you ever write a book, I'll read it.
Sometimes it comes out as, hey, when are you writing that book?
Which I would just laugh off.
But there was a voice in the back of my head.
What if?
We're going to change lanes here for a bit.
Obviously, I graduated high school and being extremely stubborn, I managed to get into a degree program and became a registered nurse.
But that's not to say it was easy. It was a massive, huge struggle.
That's something we can talk about another time.
While I was in school, I had decided I wanted to be a travel nurse.
I wanted to only need to work part time to really get to live a full life.
The measure of success for me looked like not needing to look at prices at the grocery store or at the restaurant.
I wanted to be able to join friends on random last minute vacations and adventures because I had the time and the funds to be able to get up and go on a whim.
I didn't want to be someone who said, oh no, I can't. I need to work.
I don't have enough money saved up. I don't have enough vacation time.
I need to plan for a year, slowly saving to get to where I want to go for one weekend of fun.
As is not surprising, I didn't do any of that.
I started working full time right out of school, justified by I need to get experience and a good base.
The years rolled by. I felt the pressure to meet certain financial deadlines and goals.
Retirement, buy a house, save for the future.
I'd feel guilty taking time off.
Even when I moved to full time travel nursing, I always felt an urgency to have a backup plan.
What are the next steps with regards to work?
I needed to find a date that I would return to work if I took time off.
I really let society dictate my life.
As most people do, how enticing.
The idea of a stable career, a house.
You meet a partner, you have kids, you feel settled, you work to retire.
And then, then you can finally live your life just like everybody else.
But my brain, it continued to feel restless, unsettled, and it pushed back against this model.
Hard.
I just didn't realize the internal struggle I was fighting.
Why was it so hard for me to adhere to this?
Despite being told repeatedly and made to believe it was the right thing to do, the right order of things,
it was much easier to blame other things contextually.
And of course, when COVID hit, the perfect storm had arrived.
I worked ER during the pandemic and I just crumbled.
I sought help after feeling like I was going crazy.
I was diagnosed with ADHD.
During the rigorous testing for diagnosis, I underwent IQ testing and the results left me absolutely speechless.
I was gifted in writing and language.
I was above average in other disciplines.
Comprehension, reasoning, recall.
But math, I was diagnosed with a disability.
Unable to perform math at greater than the seventh grade level.
Unable to carry out the functions in the way whoever says is the correct way to do it.
At the time, I remember my gaze softened.
I cried.
It allowed me to feel so much compassion for little me who had struggled for so long and felt like I was stupid.
After all, it turns out it wasn't that I wasn't trying hard enough where I wasn't intelligent.
I just couldn't execute what was asked of me.
Something exists in the way my brain is structurally formatted that prevents me from excelling at anything more than basic mathematics.
It's like being too short to reach the top shelf, but instead of being given a stool or having someone help bring the items down to you,
you're just left feeling that you are the problem because of how you are, because you can't accomplish what's asked of you.
But looking at language and writing, wow, it felt so freeing to have someone show me on paper through a standardized test, might I add,
that I have the capability and mentation of someone who is highly intelligent, gifted even.
In that moment, I realized there's absolutely nothing wrong with me.
It's the system around me.
Being stuck in an environment that did not support or nurture me my needs and how I learned, I wasn't seen or heard.
And instead of recognizing this, it was easier and cheaper to just tell me I was the problem.
I needed to try harder. I needed to do better.
After university, I took a slew of self-interest courses in preparation for a possible grad program.
And guess what? I finished with a 3.5-4.0 GPA and complimented on my formatting of discussions and forums by professors.
No problem. I was never dumb. I was never stupid and I was never an idiot.
Unfortunately, we live in a world where the things I was good at in childhood were things that didn't get you a certificate for a job.
There was an amplified focus on the things I was not good at.
Maybe it was to try to get me to do better and be better at them.
Technical, translate into options, I guess, and most science courses involve math.
So these areas where I excelled were discouraged silently, encouraged only as a hobby,
things to do if and when you have the time outside of your education, your future career, and your real job.
The guarantee.
Over time, with the results of this IQ testing, I have come to acknowledge and accept that I can and do admit to myself and to the world.
I am talented. I am a good writer. I'm a good painter. And I'm creative.
So here I am today, admitting these beliefs out loud without the shame I've carried for years.
Parallel to this, I have realized that while living in the real world as an adult with a real job, I'm still struggling.
I'm starting to see that yet again I'm living in another societal system that I'm not built to thrive in.
As an individual, I see things differently.
There are other ways to live and to succeed.
Ones that don't leave you feeling like you're a prisoner or a shell of a human being, void of life,
where you don't need to struggle and expend every ounce of energy you have within you just to keep up and be a part of this real world.
The one that we're all supposed to be thankful to exist in.
Because I have continued to struggle so much, I realize it's a sign telling me something has to change.
Why am I chasing something I don't enjoy?
Something I have to work so much harder at when it's essentially effortless to be good at something I enjoy that I'm good at?
What the fuck am I even doing here right now?
I had the pleasure of meeting an incredible colleague in the workplace who told me I remind him of a good friend of his.
A friend who struggled many years trying to pass a final exam as a physician to be licensed to work.
He decided to take a break. On his time off, he invented these amazing devices enabling underserved people
access to supplies and services that were forbidden due to the war.
He told my colleague he still intends to write and pass that exam.
My colleague laughed and said, what the hell are you doing?
He couldn't see he had these amazing skills, talents, and utter genius that were better served elsewhere,
where he was actually finding success and progressing society in new ways,
but he still felt the need to prove himself where he didn't thrive, where he didn't belong.
He looked at me and said, you remind me of my friend, and this stuck with me.
Staying where I am not thriving, with skills and talents I have that could be better utilized and honed elsewhere.
Doesn't that just seem counterproductive and honestly stupid?
I often think, imagine what the world would be like for us and those around us,
if when we were kids we were offered guidance on our unique ability and talents,
and our unique ability and talents had been nurtured instead of discouraged.
My question to myself really is this, why am I ignoring what I'm good at?
The world needs, and will always need, art, artists, writers, creatives, independent outside the box thinkers,
people who progress society, push us in different directions,
people who seem crazy but end up inventing new technology that we won't believe didn't exist years ago.
So what if there isn't a roadmap to lead me there? It isn't impossible, it can't be.
And if it seems to be, then it's my time to shine and make it possible.
I listen to audiobooks of creative geniuses who are well ahead of their time,
and many of the things we get to experience today, technology for example,
wouldn't exist if one of them hadn't decided impossible is possible.
Oh, and spoiler alert, these people are a lot.
Talk about inspiring to somebody like me.
Think about it for one second, on a lesser scale than technology.
There are kids making millions of dollars on YouTube and TikTok, unboxing toys.
People make a living writing novels, the same ones you and I both buy and read and enjoy.
Someone has to be putting their time and effort towards this.
People have general conversations on podcasts, record them, and people listen.
They pay their bills this way, outside the norm, outside the box careers,
and they're doing what they love.
I can tell you, I know exactly what they're not doing.
They're not working shift work, they're not doing a nine to five.
They're not waiting until retirement to chase their dreams, their passions.
They're not waiting until retirement to use the skills they've been given.
They're not doing this on their two days off a week or after work when they're tired.
They're not waiting until they can cash their tiny pensions to write that novel
that ignites their passion and hope that they can make it past 70 to see it be published.
I am meant for something more.
Insanity is defined as doing the same thing over and over expecting different results.
I already know the outcome of doing what I'm doing.
It's this, feeling trapped.
The perfect setup for long-term regrets.
You guys, I have to do something different, and I will.
Just think, I've been there, I've done that, I tried to settle.
I bought a house in the city, I had a fiancé, I had a permanent job with benefits
and a set predictable schedule.
I apparently had it made.
I tried, I tried, I tried.
I wanted to die.
It didn't work for me, it didn't last.
How could it?
I had a mental breakdown.
I sold the house, I broke off the engagement.
I'm just meant for more.
Travel nursing was great, in a way, because it provided a great distraction.
I'd go somewhere new, I'd learn the ropes of the environment.
It would be overwhelming, busy, filled with adrenaline.
Just when you start to get your footing, your contract is up, it's time to move on.
Unfortunately, it's just a distraction from the truth,
where I simply didn't have the time to focus on anything but the chaos of the ever-changing environment.
The tasks kept me so busy, I perpetually drained myself,
never took the time to listen to the message that my internal dialogue was conveying.
I really notice it now that I've tuned in, how my body responds in time of distress.
I have a lot of physical symptoms and pains, that are actually my inner self forcing me to slow down, to rest, and to listen.
I did quite a bit of therapy and really asked myself, what is the attraction of travel nursing?
I've struggled with the notion that perhaps I did it to run away from myself, my problems, my unhappiness within me,
that maybe I couldn't sit with silence, and that my battle wasn't against society, but won against myself.
Things I needed to learn to work through, something about myself I had to learn to accept, to grow to love.
So it was time to try something new, the contract in Saskatchewan.
It was lengthy.
I wanted to see if stability in a home base or a sense of belonging was what I was needing, to face demons head on rather than running.
It would end up proving to be a desperate attempt at me continually trying to convince myself that I could be normal, I could fit in,
I could be just like everybody else, I could pretend the pain away, conform, and be absolved of a life that would continue to be full of struggle.
You see, when you change everything but have one constant and you still find yourself feeling the same dread, disappointment, lack of fulfillment,
you realize what the issue is, the only variable you haven't changed.
My job, my career, taking its toll on me.
The need to be good at it, all of it, a thankless job with excellent bedside manner.
You're smart and you're skilled, but you also need to be perfect with paperwork.
If people don't like you, if you don't vibe well, you don't belong, you're bullied.
Even if you're able to provide comfort to patient at a level that exceeds a routine baseline.
Where I always feel on edge, feel a need to continually prove myself because I want to be accepted and helped by others the way that I see others being treated,
not judged and shunned, but there's no accommodations or exceptions.
You either fit the desired requirements or you're just not cut for the job, but in reality, we're people, not robots.
We don't expect perfection from our patients, yet we are expected to be perfect and at our best every day on the job.
There's no rest, no breaks. You work full time, you need to show up.
Take your vacation to rest, otherwise buck up this is life.
I'm so thankful that I traveled.
It allowed me the opportunity to challenge my views and see the world differently.
On the road, meeting like-minded people who have shown me there's more to life than this existence.
Not everyone is like this.
It just seems that way when you're in environments that aren't supplying you the nutrients you need to bloom.
Think of flowers and how they can't grow and blossom without proper soil, sun exposure, water.
We aren't trees. We don't have deeply ingrained roots.
If we don't like where we are, we can move. We can change.
We actively make decisions that send us where we're going.
We choose.
Even when you don't feel like you're making a choice.
When you're continually complaining and not doing something to improve it, that's a choice.
Choosing to stay where you are. Stuck.
I'm talking about myself.
The amount of time I'd spend complaining about my unhappiness and how I launched myself into elaborate daydreams to escape,
instead of just making a change. To live out my dream instead of just fantasizing.
I was choosing to stay stuck and put where I was.
In the comfort. In the hell.
While factors and barriers do exist and are absolutely real, they're perfectly placed excuses.
I don't have any of that. I don't have kids. I don't have a house.
My only ties are my family and friends. And if they're true to you, that outlasts any career, life, or distance.
Any decision to change, move, or grow.
The incredibly inspiring people I've met have allowed me to pick their brains about their lifestyle,
the lessons they've learned, and of course, asking for words of wisdom.
The more life experience someone has, the better. I want to know it all.
This comes in the form of colleagues, friends, nurses, patients, parents.
A common theme from conversations is that of regret.
Not having traveled more. Not putting themselves first.
Not letting themselves even consider following their dreams because it wasn't a guaranteed gig.
The fear of judgment.
You often stop and see people's eyes glaze over as you see them go to a place of imagining what their life could have been if they'd taken that chance.
If they'd gone against the grain. I wish I would have worked less and traveled more.
I wish I would have done things that made me happy.
There isn't even room for fear of failure because then I know I would have tried and it didn't work.
Now I'll never know what could have been. That's heavy.
What about those who waited, counted down to retirement before they allowed themselves to live?
Those I've witnessed fall sick at times terminally.
Those who died just after retirement with their pocket full of plans for the remainder of their days on earth.
The days they'd been promised by the norms of society.
The golden years.
Gone in the blink of an eye or impeded by physical limitations caused by gruelling years of working a likely thankless job.
Or what of those I've witnessed who in retirement had to return to work and can't fully commit to enjoying life
because the guaranteed gig didn't offer enough of a pension to live, to enjoy life even marginally in their perfectly planned retirement.
Imagine working hard your whole life, planning on retirement as your salvation only to realize you can't ever fully retire.
No fucking thank you.
In the end, there's one constant.
I've never heard a single person say,
I'm sure Gladdy worked as much as I did or I regret not working more.
So let's bring it back.
I currently feel like I work primarily as my purpose and my life happens if there is time in between that.
I believe life should come first and work comes second as a supplement.
My job is so hard on me in this way.
I need so much downtime.
I don't get to enjoy days off.
My work rotation in Canada involves two to three days off consecutively and it's never enough to recover.
I recover just enough to go back to work just to be depleted again.
Never mind as a travel nurse where I often find my schedule changes on short notice and a new shift happens to appear,
breaking up a stretch of days off.
It leaves no time for art, no time for creative expression, no time for adventure.
I work and hope to find time to participate in hobbies and fun around it.
But I'm always just too tired.
Shouldn't it be the other way around where I live my life first and foremost and work comes second to supplement that?
What about the human aspect?
I'm someone who requires so much social downtime.
Small talk drains me and work provides nothing but a constant stream of this.
On the outside, I'm always trying not to fall behind on friendships.
I find I'm just not able to do it anymore.
How can it be that I ask myself constantly?
How can people have a full-time job and friends and go on trips, have hobbies,
without having a mental breakdown about how tired they are at the end of each week?
How can it be that I'm the only one?
I feel like life can work in my favor and not be such a struggle.
My recent trip in May with Tanner really encouraged this decision.
We went out for three weeks on the road.
We hiked.
We drove through multiple states, stopping at random.
If we wanted to bike, just because the path looked nice and we wanted to experience it then and there in the moment.
Not later if we have time.
We had no concrete plans, no obligations.
We didn't break the bank with experience.
I enjoy simple things in life.
Simply being and exploring fills my soul, captivates me, frees me.
I remember overlooking a valley and thinking, this is it.
This is what I'm meant for.
So many times I would ask myself, why do we need to go back to jobs we hate just to stay afloat
so we can have these experiences one or two times a year if we're even lucky?
Isn't that ass backwards?
Enter my current challenge, what I'm hoping to overcome.
To break free of the societally accepted and dictated path.
I'm going to be 35.
My biological clock is ticking, which is a scary thought in ways I actually didn't anticipate.
Do I have the babies or do I miss the chance?
I'm leaving a reliable guaranteed source of income.
I don't have enough saved for retirement.
The no guarantee is terrifying.
What if no one likes my writing?
What if I can't find someone to publish me?
How do you even write a book anyways?
I don't know what the fuck I'm doing.
I just know I need to do it.
What's the worst case scenario?
I come home.
I go back to work as a nurse or pick up while I'm on the road.
Though that thought of walking away and needing to return really defeats the purpose.
And with any luck, that's going to be enough motivation to ensure that whatever it is I end up doing here.
I make damn sure well I succeed.