I was out somewhere the other day and a friend didn't recognize me in my scrubs. It's okay; sometimes I don't know myself in them. I am still a newcomer in a foreign land, still going through my days wondering if I will ever walk into my workplace and feel the ease of belonging. Will the native language ever sound familiar to my awkward ear?

Last night Joe and I were talking about our "ideal life" and the various ways that we picture it. Mostly I was letting him talk, and he told me that something he likes about his job is that he feels like there is room to advance. He described it as "a road out of this cul-de-sac I am in." These words struck me because I feel very much right now as if I am in a cul-de-sac. I mean, sure- there's plenty of ways to advance as a nurse. If you have the opportunities. The money and time to advance.

If you love ti enough. If you fit.

I like where I work for the most part, but often I feel like I am riding on a large continuous passive motion machine. Mindlessly doing the same tasks over and over. And then I think: well, what is it I want from life, anyway? I wanted to learn a trade so I could help my family out financially, and here I am. I am doing it. And I think I could be content there if I just accepted the fact that it's my fate to be there.

Then I remember my dream: to work with pregnant women and make a difference in their lives. To build programs that educate them and break the chains of poverty and abuse. To help them take charge of their health and their parenting. And then I get restless where I am.