Over the past few months, I've been playing around with the idea of going to nurse school after learning that I'm only two classes away from qualifying for the RN program at my local community college (I have anatomy and physiology left to take, and I've already taken those classes in other forms--Anatomy and Physiology of Farm Animals and Human Biology). At my community college, the RN program is a lottery system since about 250 applicants try for 45 slots. Some people wait years. I didn't see the point, and I brought up the idea to my mother (after some preliminary research) that I could just attend Fresno State. I could live in Hanford, Ca with my grandmother (father's side). My dog would be welcome there, and my horse would just live a few miles away. My mother was firmly against the idea--both me living in Hanford and driving to Fresno and me going to school in Fresno. She cited the dangerous nature of the roads during the winter, the deathly fog that occurs in the morning and only fades into the afternoon.
The Stanford inpatient psychiatric team, however, was happy to learn that I was thinking about my future, because both it was important for anyone, and because it meant I wasn't always thinking about hanging myself or jumping off the building, etc. They wanted me to find meaningful work, no matter what that was.
During the family meeting, with Mom on the speaker phone and the rest of us in the small conference room, the attending psychiatrist brought up the idea to my mother. "We're excited that [Jae] is thinking about these things, and what she's going to do with her life, and what next steps she's going to take..." He offered. He talked specifically about Fresno State.
"I'm encouraged that [Jae] is wanting to go back to school full time, but I'm against Fresno State.." Mother had her reasons. She even stated that Fresno was a "demilitarized zone." The team asked her questions about her opinion, and she mostly commented that Fresno was just a bad area. Someone from the group, I don't remember who, asked her how long ago was her last trip to Fresno. "About twenty years ago," she commented.
Faces around the round gave that nod, and looked to me sympathetically.
Over the weekend, I did research and realized that Fresno State's BSN program is impacted, and there's a good chance that I will not be accepted. The average accepting GPA is a 3.75. I don't remember my current GPA (at one point it was a 3.9, but I've endured some hits since then), but it's probably a little bit less than that. I figured I'd break the news to my mother, thinking she would be happy or relieved.
Her response was, via TXT message, "Are you positive that is your chosen profession? How are you going to keep your dog and horse living in Fresno?"
I explained to her what I previously wrote in the beginning of this essay. "She's an emotional support animal, she can stay with me in my residence. They can't discriminate.." This is true. I asked my mother, "Do you have better ideas??"
"No I just don't understand..." She writes, "Trade school for vet tech is an option...have you looked at any trade schools? for any occupation?"
I was beyond hurt. I was heartbroken. I didn't want to be any nurse. I wanted to be an PMHNP, with the autonomy similar of a doctor, but you spend time with patients similar to a nurse. And other educational options are available, including research. There was more than one way to skin a cat I was finding out. But my mom didn't aspire with me for these big goals. And swimming in those big, deep dark holes, I wondered if mom thought, was I just not intellectually capable of handling university work. And again, did I believe I was acceptable of the rigors of university work.
What kind of person did my mother think I was? Dull? Stagnant? What kind of work would I ever achieve? My attending psychiatrist told me that I would just have to defy her expectations. Do it while she looked on in bewilderment. Maybe so. But what do I believe? I have to internalize the positive messages, and turn away from the negative ones. Ignore James when he calls me a "stupid bitch" a million times a day, which he does. I don't get called a brilliant bitch. To be fair, you don't need to be brilliant to be a nurse practitioner, but sometimes in struggles, I wish I heard more compliments from the people around me, i.e. my mother. I'll admit to that, as ashamed as I am to do so.
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