I was driving home from work, the day before my birthday, and as often happens when I fall deep into my thoughts, I get channeled, from where? I don’t really know, but I have my suspicions. I was once a MJ fan, but as he descended into his own private hell, I turned away from his music, and his presence in the world. He made me feel more lost, as he became more lost. Man in the Mirror came on the radio and I knew it was speaking to me. It resonated deeply, as certain songs do with me. My now, many talks with the person in my mirror, were banging around in my head.

Some of this Person in the Mirror talk is repeat, but I think this is the point going on in my head. Getting to know that person, more deeply than having them shout at you from time to time, and you left wondering, what was that all about?

The “debrief” of my 55th year began, as my 56th year dawned. Birthdays make me very reflective. You know, the sort of reflection that can easily be considered a debrief. What went right? What can we improve upon? What are we definitely going to change? This involves a conversation with someone I didn’t learn to really pay attention until I was in my 40’s, sadly. I never paid much attention to that person. Oh I saw them. Her. I combed her hair, brushed her teeth, closely observed her sunburnt nose, or wait, is that another line on her face? I had spent considerable time looking into her eyes, searching for something. What? I’m not sure. I wasn’t sure until one fateful day in 2011, when after a particularly dirty altercation in the dirt and sagebrush with someone who had not really changed, but who had come fully from behind the screen from where they had hidden themselves for a good portion of our relationship. It wasn’t their fault. They didn’t really know the person in their own mirror either. They didn’t really hide from me, specifically, but rather than all those in their life who might want to more closely see the person in their own mirror. I could relate more than I cared to admit.

What this all boiled down to was, they were a good human, and I was a good human, but we were not good for one another. This was the realization that I came to, as I eyed the person in the mirror, tear stained face, smudged in places, from rolling in the dirt. Grains of dirt and sand in the creases of her ears. I asked that person, “Who are you? You’re not an angry human, full of rage and contempt. I don’t understand how this happened? How did this happen? Who ARE you?” More tears, but this time from the frustration of how I had gotten us here, in the place, grimy, sad, angry place where we landed, feeling the desperate need to feel something different.

I made a decision in that moment to make a change. Not one of those off the cuff changes that I was prone to. The impulsive changes that I just knew would be ok if I told myself it would be ok enough times. The thought formulated in my mind and then I made a silent action plan.

First thing up, I had to change careers. I’d been a vet tech since I was 14 years old! It was my heart and soul. It was what I talked about when I was in Advanced Biology, while in high school. I knew I wasn’t smart enough for “real college” (a fallacy that some of us kids fool ourselves into. Don’t fall for it!), so I threw myself into veterinary medicine at a level I knew I would succeed at. I cleaned cages, I learned how to prepare animals for surgery, cleaned more cages, walked dogs, learned how to balance the books at the end of the day, and I was happy. Being a vet tech came easy to me. When I was in my mid-twenties, I became of those allowed to challenge the VTNE via the “Alternate Pathway”. This means I had to have the veterinarians I’d worked for in the past document what they had taught me and then it had to be determined if I had the qualifications to sit for the board examination. I did, and I passed it on the first try. Not because I’m just that smart, but because I studied my a$$ off. When my kids and husband went to bed, I hit the books, and I hit them hard, for months. Failure wasn’t an option. Awesome, now what? “What” is following the passion, the lifestyle choice, that comes with being a licensed/certified veterinary technician. The work is rewarding and frustrating. It can make you laugh, cry, feel elation and depression all in one day. And…the pay is crumb, unless you work for an educational institution or a big box type practice. I wasn’t able to relocate somewhere with a vet school nearby and I figured out quickly that I wasn’t cut out for the big box practices where money was more important than the animal’s best welfare choices. I worked hard and soon I was that “old tech” that knew things, I could put an IV catheter in pretty much anything. I could teach others, lead from behind, clean cages and hope for the best. The best couldn’t pay bills for a single person with expensive habits (always comes back to the horses) though.

This led to conversations with trusted friends. Friends who suggested I look into crossing over into the world of human medicine. I had looked into this back in about 2005, when I suppressed the inkling that my relationship wasn’t all I was hoping it would be. I dropped my shoulders into the traces I had placed myself into and just kept trudging forward. Why? Because that’s what we do in my family. It’ll be ok, just keep going forward. So, here I am, finding myself revisiting this idea that I could perhaps study to become a surgical technologist…for humans (because goodness knows, I don’t have the math skills, or enough time on earth left to pay off the student loans to become an RN. Perhaps best explained in a post where we discuss, Lies we tell Ourselves). I figure out that I’ll need to do roughly a year of prerequisite courses, passing every one because…Failure isn’t an option.

In 2011 I applied to the Central Oregon Community College, got accepted and began the journey that would change my life in ways I could never imagine possible.

This Journey started with a talk with the girl in the mirror, who was looking back at me, asking, “Who ARE you?” Unsatisfied with the answer, I set out to make the change.

But, that’s for another blog post.

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