“When one door closes, another one opens.”
Right? Right? I keep saying this to myself, but all I hear is crickets. My sleep was cut short on Tuesday by a phone call from my manager. Yes, the call I’ve been waiting for! I answered the phone with a smile on my face, only to end the conversation by choking back tears. Not tears of joy. Tears of dissapointment, hurt, defeat, confusion, sinicism, anger,and utter shock.
I didn’t get the job. The unit I have worked on for over 2 years has denied me the position as a Registered Nurse. After my inital cry and mildly-sorrow-numbing Babyruth, I called my parents, only to break out into tears, again.
What was I to do? Grant it, interviewing for this position did not stop me from applying elswhere, but after my interview, last week, I knew this position was mine! How could I have misjudged this?
I called my manger back after the inital conversation and requested advice for things I should improve on for my next interview. My request was followed by a snow cloud of, excuse me, bullshit. The further my manger went into an explaination, the more I and Frank, were convinced this was NOT his real reasons for denying me.
Unfortunatley, eating disorders are very real problems that can affect anyone. This time, last year, my job was being threatened by mine. In fact, my manger has asked me to resign, to which I refused. This current conversation with my manger had me fully convinced that the eating disorder played a key role in his decison.
I was happy for Heather, who got one of the positions. I knew she was a shoein! My happiness for her, did not outweigh my own disappointment, however. I spent the entire day on an emotion rollercoaster, reviewing the time since I came back from my FMLA… my interview, my work performance, the interactions I’ve had between my team members, patients, and families… everything. No one… not me, my parents, my co-workers.. no one could figure out why they had made this decision.
To further feel beat down, I recieved an email congratulating the two candidates that had been offered the positions. As if the email didn’t rub it in enough, I was even more devestated when I read the other girl was actually a classmate of mine, who I had just graduated with.
How? How? How could this have happened?
It took everything in me to go to work that night. Not only was I physically tired from the lack of sleep, I was mentally drained and put down. I almost called out. How was I supposed to face these people that just rejected me? I knew calling out would be unproffessional and immature, but as I began my walk from the parking garage to the hospital, I stopped dead in my tracks. I felt like the kid that peed her pants and no is reurning back to school for all the kids to laugh at her.
I had to call my dad, who gave me a pep talk as I made my way to my unit. Is it my unit, still? Is it a unit, now? What am I doing here? I tried my best to put on my big girl pants as I entered the closed unit. I was greeted with hugs, “awwws,” kind words, and “I’m sorry Sammy”s, as though someone had died.
I think in a way, I did. My spirit died. A piece of me had gone missing. I’m empty. Where do I belong, now, if not on this unit?
The team was wonderful, as they all lent me sympathy, and validated my feelings. What will I do without this team? This is my family.
I keep telling myself that I need to let God do His thing. He has a plan for me, and although the journey has been bumpy, and the road is looking pretty bleak, He has an ultimate plan for me. And where that takes me, I’ll find true pleasure and happiness.
No matter how many times I remind myself of this, the pain is still there. The dissapointment, and ever dwindling selft worth continues to daunt my thoughts.
Something will happen. Things will turn around. I wouldn’t have been through all that I”ve been through, to end here.
When God closes one door, He opens another.