Where Am I?

It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything.  A little bit of a long while.  To say my life has been a blur since the last post would be an understatement.  I'm in law school now.  Oh, I'm married now too.  Funny the twists life takes, isn't it?  If you look at my last post from April 2012 it's a little bit ironic I ended up meeting my husband just a couple months later.  Life is funny like that.  But this is a blog about old people, and while my hubby is awesome and all, he's not old yet.  So we'll move on.

If you'd asked me a year and a half ago if I'd be sitting on a couch in Nebraska right now surrounded by first year law books and stressed out of my mind about upcoming finals, I would've laughed in your face.  The short version of the story is this:

I loved my job as an activities technician immensely - so much so that I just had to be my dreamy, idealistic self and decide to make it better.  I found myself getting worn out (caring about people takes its toll on a girl!).  But I thought that was a selfish thing to worry about, so I kept trudging along.  I always swore I would never let it become "just a job" - that I would always go the extra mile for my residents.  Yet there I was, slowly but surely letting that happen.  The sad thing?  I had only been there for a year and a half, and I was only 22.  Not to mention I had the "fun" job, you know because all we have to do is play bingo all the time, right? (<--sarcasm).  But still, it dawned on me one day: If I'm this worn out being a young, spry little chicken with what should be the most fun job in the world, how do all these nurses and aides and administrators feel?  People who dedicate their lives to this field, doing the "dirty work," probably entering into it as enthusiastically as I did, only to be worn down over time to where it becomes "just a job."  Caring for our elders is the most rewarding job a person can have.  Unfortunately, it's also one of the most thankless.

Inspired by the people around me, and by my own fatigue and frustration, I started to wonder why things couldn't be better.  I didn't know how exactly they could (I still don't), but I knew there definitely was room for improvement.  As much as I loved my residents, I knew if I stayed in that position for long, I would continue to be frustrated with the inadequacies of our system.

So I took a leap.  I studied my buns off, ate a ton of blueberries (Eat Smart for a Healthier Brain), and took the LSAT.  I figured if anything was ever going to actually improve, it had to come from the top.  Nursing homes are incredibly regulated by the government; everything we did was in response to regulations.  Regulations that I didn't understand.  Regulations that I want to understand.  Regulations written by people who probably don't understand.  People who probably either never knew or have forgotten what it's like to be doing the dirty work.

I found out there were only two schools in the country that offer a law degree coupled with a masters in gerontology: University of Southern California and University of Nebraska.  As much as I'd love to take my chances with the California sun, I found myself applying to Nebraska and here I am (that wonderful hubby tagging along was a completely unexpected but oh-so-life-saving bonus).  

I'll admit, sometimes it's really hard to be motivated to read through case after case about property titles, sales of goods contracts, federal jurisdiction, etc etc etc.  It's hard to imagine how this is going to help me make the world a little better for our senior citizens and those who care for them.  I'd rather be back at my old job, sitting on a resident's bed while they tell me stories (stories so rich it's hard to believe they're real, but knowing that they are because the truth just pours out of the resident's eyes).  Having them look at me like I'm the only person in the world who took the time to listen.  I don't want to sit here, day after day reading page after page, straining to understand concepts that seem so far off topic from my goals. 

That's why I'm grateful for the things that remind me why I'm here.

My brother-in-law introduced me to the show "Derek" a couple months ago.  I don't think the timing was a coincidence.  For one thing, Ricky Gervais is a genius (he's the guy that created the original British version of The Office).  If you haven't heard of the show, go watch it on Netflix.  I'll probably write my next post solely about it, I love it that much.  Some of the quotes put me in my place just when I need it most.

I'm also grateful I found a nursing home here to volunteer at twice a month.  It's not much of a time commitment (unfortunately law school likes to tell you they own all of your time), but I get to hear some stories again.  I get to look into those truthful eyes, and at the staff tirelessly caring for them, and I remember who I'm doing this for.

I find myself being so appreciative of all the moments I've had that brought me to this point.  I think back to my own grandparents.  To the old woman in England who got this whole thing rolling over a simple cup of tea.  To my parents who taught me that I can do anything I set my mind to.  To my older sisters who showed me I can do anything I put my mind to.

I think of all that, and I remember why I'm here.  And suddenly I'm not so worried about how dull my reading assignments are.  It's like Kev said in episode 7 of Derek: 

"I should have tried, yes, should have worked hard.  But I gambled.  And I drank.  And I begged, and I hoped, and I cowered.  I’m a failure, I guess.  But I’m not a failure ‘cause I didn’t succeed.  I’m a failure ‘cause I didn’t try."

I have to try.  So for now, I'll keep reading...