Conflicted Artist and Confounded Scientist

**Just to preface, this was written almost around the beginning of August. I just didn't post it. My feelings have changed, but I figured I'd still post it anyways.**

I'm twelve days away from California and maybe 28ish days from clinicals in a still-to-be-determined hospital. And in three days, some of the people in HR will be holding a meeting for those of us interns who are interested in future employment here. The reality of leaving Mayo, starting my fifth and final year of undergrad studies, and then entering into the world on my own is setting in BIG!

I feel like a kindergartener who feels pressured to stop using training wheels...Except now I'm almost 23 and maybe I should to drag out a toolbox and sort through all the wrenches and sockets and such, and start planning how I will take my training wheels off by graduation in May of this coming year. I've already considered the pros and cons of choosing between Minnesota and California to start off my career, and I can honestly say that I think I would be entirely content, and more probable, happy, living either place, especially if I find a solid church out here.

Now that I've got that of my chest, my next question has to do with what I value in life and about my scope of practice in nursing. To choose one location over the other is to sacrifice proximity with my blood family and my church family versus working at an institution where nursing seems like it's been boiled down into a science instead of an art. Every nursing student learns early on in their education how Florence Nightingale viewed the nursing profession: it is both an art and a science. It is an art in that it requires skill and coordination, in addition to the ability to individualize or adapt care to each patient. It is a science in that it deals with human physiology and how to impact it with different medicines and therapeutic interventions. Basically, I feel really conflicted right now.  I'm an artist and a scientist and to deny one of those facets of me feels treasonous on a psychological level. I don't want to choose between having my cake and eating it. I'm praying for a fresh perspective in the upcoming weeks...My feelings will probably...undoubtedly change by the time I finish typing this post because that's just the transient nature of emotions. My rational side will kick in, I'm sure of it.

In the mean time, though, I've been talking with my big brother and my mom--two people who know my disdain for making big decisions. They listen attentively, reflect back to me what they hear, and then quiet down. Their rationale, ever unspoken, is completely evident to me and reminds me that I'm a conflicted mess of emotions. I'm excited, hesitant, scared, awkward, and who knows what else inside about this next phase. They know I must make this decision on my own. They deny themselves the personal satisfaction of telling me what's best because they know that telling me what to do doesn't ever work. Plus, it's to my advantage that they let me squirm in the discomfort because it's practice for other big decisions I'll need to make. I'm grateful for them and their wise silence (even though it makes me squirm).