Death By Nervous Exhaustion

The snow storm that blew through my town was so fierce that they gave it a name. Winter Storm Carver left us with about a foot of snow in the past twenty-four hours. The plows deposited a nearly solid wall of it at the foot of my driveway that ended just shy of my waist when I stood next to it. I am 5'10 and every bit the sturdy Germanic peasant woman and still I ache tonight, in muscles I didn't know I owned. Apparently spending hours upon hours of my time lifting heavy patients is a different kind of exertion than that expended shoveling through nearly four feet of snow. At any rate, tonight I am tired, both physically and emotionally.

Tomorrow morning at ten a.m., I will be sitting before a panel of my co-workers answering questions and explaining what I can bring to both my employer and the nursing industry itself. While the words fly nearly effortlessly from my fingertips or from the end of my pen, often when I try to speak them they stick at the back of my throat like a too-big bite of peanut butter sandwich. I want acceptance into this program more than air, more than love. The cost of my education will rely on my words tomorrow. Here's hoping that they flow free and clear, and that tomorrow's meeting culminates with a "congratulations, you're exactly what we need" as opposed to a "thank you for your time, but you're not what we're looking for".