January 9, 2019 | On Resigning, Beginning Again, and Learning That a Dream Has No Obligation to Follow My Calendar

I have developed a peculiar relationship with the word pending. It is a small, seemingly harmless word, consisting of seven letters and an extraordinary capacity to ruin an otherwise pleasant afternoon. A document is pending. An application is pending. A response is pending. Somewhere, presumably, a person with access to important information is going about an ordinary working day while I sit here wondering whether my entire future has been temporarily placed inside somebody else’s filing cabinet. I have learned that waiting can become a remarkably demanding occupation, especially when there is no salary attached to it and no convenient explanation of when the working hours will end. The most frustrating part is that life outside the application process continues as usual. The sun rises, people go to work, bills remain stubbornly uninterested in my ambitions, and the calendar advances with the confidence of an institution that has never experienced uncertainty.

It has been two months since I resigned from my nursing job at St. Vincent General Hospital. Writing that sentence still feels a little strange, although the separation anxiety I experienced during the first few weeks has gradually faded. I had grown accustomed to the familiar routines of hospital life, the colleagues whose faces became part of my working days, and the particular rhythm of a profession that rarely allows anyone to become too comfortable with their schedule. Leaving meant giving up more than a regular workplace. It meant stepping away from a version of my life that had become familiar, even during the exhausting shifts when I privately fantasised about the extraordinary luxury of uninterrupted sleep. I had spent so much time wanting an opportunity to move forward that I had almost forgotten how unsettling it could feel to release something I already possessed.

I had intended to write about my resignation much earlier. After all, leaving work should theoretically have given me more time for blogging, reading, reflecting, and attending to the personal interests that had been waiting patiently behind my hospital responsibilities. I imagined mornings without rushing to prepare for duty and afternoons when I could finally sit at my desk with enough energy to arrange my thoughts into respectable sentences. Instead, the weeks disappeared into a collection of errands, plans, paperwork, and concerns that proved perfectly capable of occupying an entire day without producing anything particularly impressive to show for it. Apparently, unemployment from one position does not automatically translate into freedom from responsibility. It simply allows other unfinished matters to present themselves for immediate attention.

My principal focus now is the dream I placed on hold almost two years ago: working abroad. It is an ambition that has remained somewhere in my thoughts even while I was occupied with hospital duties and the everyday demands of earning a living. There were periods when it seemed distant, almost like a destination I had marked on a map without knowing which road would eventually take me there. But the desire never entirely disappeared. Every so often, something would remind me of the future I had imagined for myself, and I would wonder whether I was making progress or merely becoming more accustomed to postponing the attempt. Eventually, I reached the point where I wanted to give that ambition my serious attention again, even though doing so required another professional transition and a considerable amount of uncertainty.

I wish I could describe the process of pursuing a nursing career abroad as a straightforward sequence of carefully completed steps. It would make a wonderfully reassuring story. A person decides what she wants, prepares the requirements, submits the applications, receives a favourable response, and proceeds towards a future that has been waiting politely for her arrival. Unfortunately, the actual experience involves a far less cooperative arrangement. There are documents to gather, qualifications and professional requirements to consider, applications to complete, and decisions that depend upon organisations and circumstances beyond my immediate control. Even when I have finished one task, another question often appears to replace it. I sometimes feel as though I am assembling a complicated piece of furniture without being entirely certain that every necessary component has been included in the box.

What makes the process particularly exhausting is the uncertainty surrounding its outcome. When I was working regular hospital shifts, I could usually identify the responsibilities immediately before me. Patients required care, documentation needed completing, and colleagues depended upon the work being done properly. The demands were real, sometimes overwhelming, but they were at least tangible. Pursuing an opportunity abroad is different. I can complete the requirements available to me, prepare as carefully as possible, and follow the appropriate procedures, but I cannot determine when somebody will respond or whether an opportunity will become available. There are days when I feel productive because I have completed another necessary step, and others when I seem to have spent an extraordinary amount of energy accomplishing little more than waiting.

I have asked myself some uncomfortable questions during these past few weeks. Why am I still here? Why does progress seem to happen more easily for other people? Why have some of the things I worked towards taken so much longer than I expected? I know these questions are not particularly original. I suspect almost everybody who has pursued a difficult ambition has encountered some version of them. Nevertheless, they become remarkably convincing when circumstances are uncertain, especially during quiet moments when there is little to distract me from comparing the life I imagined with the one I am actually living.

I think comparison has been one of the more unpleasant companions of this particular season. I see people reaching professional milestones, travelling to new countries, or beginning chapters I have been hoping to experience myself. I am genuinely pleased when good things happen to people I know, but there are occasions when their progress makes me more conscious of my own unfinished plans. I begin wondering whether I should have done something differently or whether I have made decisions that delayed my opportunities. The mind becomes an exceptionally talented investigator when supplied with uncertainty, capable of reviewing years of decisions and producing several theories about why life has not developed according to its preferred schedule.

Yet I know that appearances rarely reveal the whole story. We see somebody celebrating an achievement without necessarily knowing the work, delays, compromises, or disappointments that preceded it. We compare the visible result with our own unfinished process and forget that the two situations may have very little in common. I have had to remind myself that another person’s success does not automatically provide evidence of my failure. Their circumstances may be different, their opportunities may have developed through a different route, and their priorities may not resemble mine. Understanding that does not immediately eliminate my frustration, but it gives me a more reasonable way to examine it.

Leaving St. Vincent has also made me think about what it means to move forward. There is an understandable temptation to associate progress with something visible: a new position, a higher salary, a completed qualification, or a plane ticket confirming that a long-awaited journey is finally happening. Without those things, it can seem as though nothing is changing. But I am beginning to appreciate how much preparation occurs before a result becomes visible. Gathering requirements, reviewing professional options, making difficult decisions, and learning how to manage uncertainty are all activities that may eventually contribute to a larger outcome. They do not guarantee success, and I would be foolish to pretend otherwise. Still, they are not necessarily meaningless simply because they have not yet produced the result I want.

I have sometimes wondered whether resigning was the right decision. Not because I have forgotten why I made it, but because uncertainty has a way of making familiar circumstances appear particularly attractive in retrospect. I remember my colleagues, the work I had become accustomed to, and the satisfaction of belonging to a clinical team. I also remember the demanding shifts, the exhaustion, and the responsibilities that left limited time for pursuing other plans. Both versions belong to the same experience. It would be dishonest to describe my former job as either entirely wonderful or entirely difficult simply because I am now looking at it from the other side of resignation.

There were many things I appreciated about nursing at St. Vincent. I developed skills, learned from colleagues, and became more confident in responsibilities that had once seemed intimidating. I gained friendships and memories that will remain important regardless of where my career eventually takes me. I also encountered difficult working days that taught me about patience, communication, and the practical realities of caring for people in a busy hospital. Leaving does not diminish those experiences. If anything, the distance has made me more conscious of what they contributed to my professional development. I hope that wherever I work next, I carry the useful lessons with me rather than assuming that a new environment will require me to begin with nothing.

At the same time, I have to resist the temptation to turn the decision into something more dramatic than it was. I resigned because I wanted to concentrate upon another professional ambition. It was a significant choice, particularly because the outcome remained uncertain, but it did not automatically transform me into a remarkably courageous person whose future had already been secured. I still have practical responsibilities, questions, and moments of doubt. I still need to prepare properly and consider the consequences of my decisions. Making a difficult choice can create an opportunity, but what happens afterwards still depends upon effort, circumstances, and factors I cannot entirely control.

Perhaps that is where patience becomes particularly important. I have never considered myself exceptionally gifted at waiting, especially when the subject involves something I have wanted for a long time. I prefer understanding what needs to happen, completing the necessary steps, and receiving an answer within a period that seems reasonable to me. Unfortunately, the world does not appear especially interested in adopting my personal timetable. Applications move through processes, opportunities become available according to circumstances I may not know, and sometimes a person must continue preparing without having any reliable indication of when the next development will occur.

I used to think patience meant simply enduring the delay without complaining. I imagined a patient person as somebody who remained permanently calm, accepted every inconvenience gracefully, and never questioned why things were taking so long. By that definition, I would probably require several additional lifetimes of practice before qualifying. But I am beginning to understand patience in a more practical way. It involves recognising what I can reasonably influence, completing what needs to be done, and resisting the urge to interpret every period of uncertainty as evidence that something has gone wrong. It does not prohibit frustration. It simply asks me not to let frustration make every decision on my behalf.

There have been days when I felt tempted to abandon the entire idea. I would look at the requirements, consider the time already spent preparing, and wonder whether the effort would eventually produce anything worthwhile. Sometimes the uncertainty seemed more exhausting than an actual hospital shift, because at least a shift has a scheduled handover and an identifiable end. Applications, meanwhile, possess an extraordinary ability to remain unresolved while making no apologies for the inconvenience. I can understand why people become discouraged during long processes, particularly when repeated attempts have produced disappointing results.

But I am also becoming more careful about what I mean when I tell myself not to give up. Persistence is valuable, but it should not require repeating exactly the same approach indefinitely when circumstances suggest that something needs reconsideration. I want to remain committed to my ambition while being willing to improve my preparation, seek reliable advice, and consider alternative routes if necessary. There is a difference between abandoning a meaningful goal and recognising that the path towards it may need adjustment. I hope I become wise enough to know when to continue, when to change direction, and when to step away from an approach that is no longer practical.

This is particularly important because I have already experienced enough disappointments to know that determination does not guarantee an immediate reward. I have submitted applications, waited for opportunities, and encountered circumstances that did not develop as I hoped. Each experience has required me to reconsider what to do next. Sometimes the answer involved more preparation. Sometimes it required accepting that a particular opportunity was not available. And sometimes I simply needed to allow myself to feel disappointed without immediately transforming the experience into a judgement about my entire future.

I have noticed how easily disappointment can become personal. An unsuccessful application begins as a decision made within a particular process, but the mind can interpret it as evidence that we are somehow inadequate. We forget that selection decisions may depend upon numerous factors, including requirements, available positions, competition, and organisational priorities. I do not want to pretend that every rejection is meaningless, because some may provide useful information about areas I need to develop. But I also do not want to assign every disappointing outcome a significance it cannot reasonably support. One result does not explain everything I am capable of becoming.

Perhaps my nursing background has helped me recognise that progress often requires repeated assessment and adjustment. During clinical training, we learn procedures, receive feedback, and gradually improve through supervised experience. We do not expect every skill to become effortless after one attempt, particularly when it involves complex responsibilities. Yet when dealing with our own ambitions, we sometimes become strangely impatient. We assume that because we have worked hard and waited long enough, success should now appear as proof that the effort has been recognised. I am learning that the relationship between effort and outcome is considerably less predictable than I would prefer.

That does not make preparation less important. It simply reminds me that preparation improves our readiness without giving us complete control over opportunity. I can strengthen my application, ensure that documents are accurate, develop relevant professional knowledge, and approach each stage responsibly. Those are meaningful actions regardless of whether a particular application succeeds. I hope that thinking this way will help me remain motivated without turning the entire process into an endless argument with circumstances I cannot immediately change.

During these months, I have also been grateful for the people who have offered encouragement and perspective. Some conversations have helped me reconsider questions that seemed impossible to resolve alone, while others have simply reminded me that professional uncertainty is a familiar part of many people’s lives. I appreciate those who can listen without immediately insisting that everything will work out exactly as I hope. There is something reassuring about being able to express doubt without having it dismissed or transformed into an inspirational speech. Sometimes what we need is practical advice, a thoughtful question, or the company of somebody willing to acknowledge that the situation is genuinely difficult.

I have met people whose experiences have encouraged me to think differently about success. Some have followed relatively direct professional routes, while others have encountered delays and unexpected transitions. Listening to those stories has reminded me that careers rarely unfold according to one universal sequence. A person may spend several years developing experience before receiving an opportunity, while another may discover a different direction entirely. Neither situation automatically reveals the person’s value or the quality of their effort. I am becoming less interested in finding the perfect example of how my future should unfold and more interested in understanding which choices make sense for my own circumstances.

I suppose that is part of growing older. During my younger years, I imagined that important life decisions would become easier as I gained experience. I expected adulthood to provide greater confidence and a clearer understanding of what I wanted. In some ways, it has. I know more about my professional interests, my preferences, and the responsibilities I am willing to accept. But experience has also shown me how complicated decisions can become when they involve genuine consequences. There is often no option that eliminates every uncertainty, and sometimes choosing one direction means accepting that another possibility must be postponed.

The future feels particularly difficult to describe at the moment because I am standing between two recognisable versions of my life. The first involved hospital shifts, familiar colleagues, and the regular responsibilities of nursing in Cebu. The second remains largely an ambition: working abroad, developing professionally in a different environment, and discovering what opportunities might become available beyond the Philippines. I have stepped away from the first without yet entering the second, and that interval has proved more unsettling than I anticipated. It is strange to leave somewhere because you hope to move forward, only to discover that the next destination remains uncertain.

Perhaps that is why I have struggled to write about this period. There is no neatly completed story to tell. I cannot announce that every document has been accepted, every difficulty resolved, and every ambition fulfilled. I am still preparing, waiting, and trying to make thoughtful decisions. My circumstances do not yet provide the satisfying conclusion that people often expect from a personal essay. But I am beginning to think that the unfinished stages deserve to be documented too. They are part of the experience, even if they lack the excitement of a successful announcement.

I have always enjoyed recording important milestones, especially when something I worked towards finally becomes possible. There is pleasure in writing about an achievement after the difficult parts have passed, because the uncertainty can be examined from the reassuring position of knowing how everything ended. Writing from the middle of an unresolved situation is different. I have to acknowledge questions whose answers I do not possess and feelings that may change as circumstances develop. It requires a little more honesty than simply arranging the past into a beautiful story where every disappointment conveniently leads towards success.

I do not know whether every difficulty I encounter will eventually make sense. Some experiences may become useful lessons, while others may remain frustrating events I would rather not repeat. I am slowly becoming comfortable with that possibility. Life does not need to justify every inconvenience through an extraordinary future reward. Sometimes things take longer because processes are complicated, resources are limited, or opportunities depend upon circumstances outside our control. Recognising those realities does not make me less hopeful. It allows me to remain hopeful without expecting the world to organise itself into a perfectly satisfying explanation.

My faith continues to influence how I approach this uncertainty. I believe in praying for guidance and trusting that God remains present even when circumstances do not unfold according to my plans. But I also recognise that faith does not excuse me from preparing carefully or making responsible decisions. I can pray for an opportunity abroad while continuing to review requirements, improve my readiness, and seek accurate information. I can trust God without assuming that every delay is a secret message or that every disappointing outcome has been arranged specifically to teach me something. Sometimes the most practical expression of faith is simply continuing to do what is right and necessary while accepting that the result is not entirely within my hands.

I have been thinking about the phrase right time, something people often mention when discussing delayed ambitions. It can be comforting to imagine that every event possesses a precise moment when it is destined to happen. I understand the appeal, particularly when waiting has become exhausting. But I am beginning to approach the idea with a little more care. Opportunities depend upon preparation, circumstances, decisions, and occasionally sheer unpredictability. I cannot know in advance when everything will align, and I would rather avoid assuming that an unsuccessful attempt happened simply because some invisible calendar had declared the timing incorrect. What I can do is remain attentive to the opportunities available now and prepare for those that may emerge later.

There is also something liberating about admitting that I do not have a complete plan. I know the general direction I want to pursue, but I cannot predict every stage of the journey. I may need to reconsider my expectations, respond to changing requirements, or make decisions based upon information that has not yet become available. That uncertainty can be uncomfortable, especially for somebody who enjoys planning, but it is also part of the situation I have chosen to navigate. I hope to become more adaptable without losing sight of the ambition that encouraged me to begin.

Perhaps the most difficult part of this season has been learning to measure my days differently. When I was employed at the hospital, a shift provided a clear structure. There were responsibilities to complete, colleagues to work with, and tasks whose progress could usually be observed. Now my days involve activities that may not immediately produce visible results. Reading application requirements, preparing documents, and waiting for responses can feel less substantial than completing a demanding clinical shift, even though they require attention and organisation. I have had to remind myself that productivity does not always produce something dramatic enough to photograph or announce.

Still, I want to maintain some structure during this period. I know how easily uncertainty can consume an entire day if I allow every unanswered question to demand immediate attention. I am trying to concentrate on manageable tasks, make time for the interests I neglected during busy working months, and preserve enough routine to prevent the application process from becoming the only subject occupying my thoughts. There are books I want to read, blog entries I have been intending to finish, and ordinary activities that deserve attention even while an important professional ambition remains unresolved.

I have also been reflecting upon what success would actually mean to me. Working abroad is an important goal, partly because of the professional and personal opportunities I hope it may offer. But I do not want to assume that reaching another country will automatically resolve every difficulty in my life. There will still be responsibilities, unfamiliar situations, and challenges requiring patience. I may need to adapt to a different working environment, establish new routines, and manage the emotional demands of living away from familiar people and places. I am excited by the possibility, but I want to approach it with realistic expectations rather than treating it as a magical destination where ordinary human problems no longer exist.

I think that distinction matters. There is nothing wrong with wanting better opportunities or pursuing circumstances that may allow us to develop professionally and personally. But I would like to avoid placing the entire responsibility for my happiness upon one future achievement. If I decide that life can only become meaningful after I have secured a position abroad, I risk overlooking the people and experiences that already matter to me. My ambition deserves effort, certainly, but I do not want every day before its fulfilment to become merely an inconvenient waiting room.

That is easier to understand intellectually than to practise consistently. There are still afternoons when I become frustrated by the lack of progress and wonder whether I should have accomplished more by now. Sometimes I need to remind myself to stop reviewing the same unanswered questions and concentrate upon something useful. Other times, I need to accept that I am disappointed and allow the feeling to pass without constructing an elaborate argument about my future. I am learning that being hopeful does not mean maintaining a permanently cheerful expression. It means continuing to consider worthwhile possibilities even when the outcome remains uncertain.

I have also begun recognising that rest is not necessarily evidence of laziness. After leaving hospital work, I sometimes felt guilty whenever I was not actively completing something related to my plans. I would look at the time available and assume that every hour should be used productively, particularly because I had made a significant decision to concentrate upon applications abroad. But constant activity does not always produce better decisions. There are moments when stepping away from an unresolved problem allows me to return with a clearer perspective. I want to remain disciplined, but I also want to avoid becoming so consumed by the process that I neglect my wellbeing.

The separation anxiety I felt after resigning has gradually eased, and I am grateful for that. During the first weeks, familiar working routines occasionally returned to mind, especially when I remembered colleagues or wondered how the ward was managing without me. There is a strange adjustment involved in no longer belonging to the daily rhythm of a place where you once spent so much time. Eventually, however, those thoughts became less immediate. I began accepting that the hospital would continue with its responsibilities and that I needed to direct my attention towards the next stage of my own journey. I could appreciate my time there without needing to remain permanently attached to the routines I had left behind.

I think that has been one of the quieter changes of the past two months. At first, resignation felt like a major event, something that required explanation and adjustment. Now it has become part of the circumstances I am learning to live with. I no longer wake up expecting to prepare for another hospital duty, although I still occasionally find myself thinking in terms of shifts and working schedules. The absence of those routines has created space for other responsibilities, and I am slowly becoming more comfortable with the uncertainty that accompanies this transition.

I have wondered whether my future self will eventually read this entry with amusement. Perhaps by then, the documents I am currently worrying about will have become ordinary details in a much larger story. I may be working in another country, remembering how uncertain everything seemed before the opportunity arrived. Or perhaps my path will have developed differently, leading towards circumstances I cannot currently predict. Either possibility reminds me that I should be cautious about making dramatic declarations while standing in the middle of an unfinished process. I do not know how this chapter will end, and pretending otherwise would only make the writing less truthful.

But I hope that whatever happens, I will be able to recognise that I made a serious effort. I want to look back upon this period knowing that I considered the available options, prepared responsibly, and made decisions according to what mattered to me at the time. I do not need to guarantee that every attempt will succeed before allowing myself to pursue it. There is value in approaching an ambition thoughtfully, even when uncertainty remains part of the arrangement.

I also hope I remember the people who encouraged me during this transition. Professional ambitions can become so personal that we forget how much support contributes to our ability to pursue them. Family, friends, former colleagues, and people who share useful information can make an important difference. I appreciate those who have listened to my frustrations without dismissing them and those who have offered advice based upon their own experiences. Their encouragement has not eliminated the work I need to do, but it has reminded me that I am not required to understand every complicated process entirely by myself.

There are times when I miss the satisfaction of completing a hospital shift and knowing that I have contributed to something tangible. Nursing can be exhausting, but it also provides a sense of professional purpose that is difficult to reproduce during a period devoted primarily to applications and preparation. I look forward to returning to clinical work when an appropriate opportunity becomes available. I want to continue developing my skills, learning from colleagues, and providing responsible care to patients. My ambition to work abroad is connected to that professional identity, and I hope the transition eventually allows me to build upon the experience I have already gained.

For now, I am trying to remain focused without becoming consumed by the destination. I can prepare carefully, continue learning, and take opportunities seriously while remembering that my life is happening in the meantime. There are ordinary conversations to enjoy, relationships to maintain, and moments worth appreciating even when my plans remain unfinished. I do not want to look back upon this period and realise that I spent every available day imagining a future place while barely noticing the one where I was living.

Perhaps that is the most useful understanding I have gained so far. Growth is not always accompanied by a visible achievement, and focus does not require excluding everything else that makes life meaningful. Sometimes growth involves recognising our assumptions, becoming more patient with uncertainty, and learning to respond thoughtfully when circumstances do not cooperate. Focus involves choosing where to direct our effort while accepting that some outcomes cannot be controlled through determination alone. Neither process is particularly glamorous, and I suspect both will continue requiring practice long after I have finished writing this entry.

I began this essay complaining about the word pending and its extraordinary ability to occupy my thoughts. After reflecting upon the past two months, I realise that much of my frustration has come from wanting a definite answer about a future that is still developing. I left St. Vincent General Hospital because I wanted to pursue another professional opportunity, but the period between leaving and arriving has proved considerably less straightforward than I imagined. There is no dramatic conclusion to announce today, no successful application to celebrate, and no plane ticket waiting on my desk. There is simply the work I have already completed, the preparation still required, and the intention to continue making thoughtful decisions.

I think I can live with that for now. I would certainly prefer a favourable response arriving promptly, perhaps accompanied by a polite apology for the inconvenience caused by prolonged uncertainty. But I am beginning to understand that waiting does not necessarily mean standing completely still. I can use this period to strengthen my preparation, reconsider what matters to me, and develop a more realistic understanding of the ambition I am pursuing. I can also allow myself to enjoy ordinary life without treating every moment unrelated to my application as wasted time.

One day, I hope to write about the experience from a place of greater certainty. Perhaps I will describe the moment an opportunity finally became available, the preparations that followed, and the unfamiliar surroundings of a new professional chapter. I imagine I will be excited, nervous, and probably occupied with an entirely new collection of practical concerns. Knowing myself, I suspect I will eventually discover that achieving one goal has a remarkable talent for introducing another set of questions. Perhaps that is simply how ambition works. We pursue something meaningful, learn through the process, and gradually discover possibilities we had not considered at the beginning.

But that story belongs to another day. Today is January 9, 2019, and I am a nurse who has been away from hospital work for two months, trying to revive a dream that has waited almost two years for my attention. I have experienced disappointments, questioned my progress, and occasionally felt tempted to abandon the effort. I have also received encouragement, gained perspective, and begun understanding that there is no single timetable capable of explaining everyone’s professional journey. I am still uncertain about the outcome, but I am becoming more deliberate about the steps I take towards it.

Perhaps the next time I encounter the word pending, I will remember that it describes the status of an application rather than the condition of my entire existence. My documents may be waiting for review, but I am still capable of learning, making decisions, maintaining relationships, and enjoying the ordinary parts of life. The distinction seems obvious when written down, although I suspect I shall need to remind myself of it whenever impatience begins making another appearance.

I hope this year brings opportunities, good health, clearer direction, and enough courage to make the decisions required of me. I pray that God continues guiding my steps, particularly when circumstances remain difficult to interpret. I also hope to become more accepting of the fact that meaningful ambitions sometimes require adjustment, patience, and an honest assessment of what is within my control. I do not know exactly where this journey will take me, but I want to approach it with a willingness to learn rather than an expectation that everything must unfold according to my original plans.

For the moment, I shall return to my applications, continue preparing what needs to be completed, and allow the future to remain uncertain without giving it unrestricted permission to dominate every thought. There are still things to be done, and I would rather spend my energy doing them than arguing endlessly with the calendar. If another disappointing result appears, I will examine what it means and decide how best to proceed. If an opportunity arrives, I hope I will have prepared sufficiently to recognise and pursue it.

I am learning that leaving a familiar place does not automatically mean arriving somewhere new. Sometimes there is an uncomfortable distance between the two, occupied by practical work, uncertainty, and questions we cannot immediately answer. I have been standing in that distance for two months, and although I would prefer a clearer view of what lies ahead, I am beginning to find my footing.

Perhaps that is enough for today. I do not need to announce that everything will eventually make perfect sense, nor do I need to transform every disappointment into an inspiring explanation. I simply need to remain attentive to the choices available, continue developing the abilities I may need, and remember why this ambition mattered to me in the first place. The rest will depend upon circumstances I have yet to encounter.

As for the person who eventually reviews my application, I sincerely hope they appreciate the extraordinary emotional significance attached to what may appear on their desk as an ordinary collection of documents. Somewhere on the other side of those papers is a Filipina nurse attempting to organise her future while maintaining a reasonably convincing appearance of patience. A favourable response would be greatly appreciated, although at this point, even a clear update would qualify as an exciting development.

Until then, I shall keep working towards what I can influence and leave a little room for the life unfolding around me. My career may be between chapters, but I am still very much present in the story. I have left one hospital, and I hope another opportunity eventually gives me somewhere new to begin. The distance between those two moments may be longer than I expected, but I would rather navigate it carefully than allow uncertainty to convince me that the journey has already ended.

Grow, focus, and keep the paperwork organised. Apparently, dreams have administrative requirements too.

January 9, 2019 | Two months after leaving St. Vincent General Hospital, revisiting the ambition to work abroad and learning to live with a future that has not yet provided a definite answer.

— Anj, RN, currently between professional chapters, faithfully preparing, and developing a complicated relationship with the word “pending.”