In Transition - the Camino, the VA, and the Next Steps

This blog post was originally titled "Contemplating the Camino." Although I can now officially call it "Planning for the Camino." Or "I Just Quit My Otherwise Perfectly Great Job." Or "How to Prepare for 3+ Weeks Alone With My Father, Away From My Precious Daughter, and Walking Nearly 200 Miles." Or "But What Will We Do About Money?" Or maybe later, hopefully later, "Finding My Way."

It's been on my Bucket List for several years to walk the Camino de Santiago, specifically walking the Camino with my dad. He's done it more than a dozen times in the 15 years since my mom died, experienced various Camino routes and distances. A couple years ago we talked about doing a multigenerational trip - Alex, the Bean, my dad, and me. I learned then of the VA Rehab Medicine department's two-week max leave policy, and the trip felt overwhelming enough then that I think I was somewhat relieved to have it not work out then. But it came back on my radar this Winter. My dad and I talked about it, and it seemed like a distinct possibility. I spoke with my supervisor at the VA about the prospect and was told, once again, that the Rehab Department policy allows an employee to be absent on leave for no more than two weeks. She explained that if I had actually accrued three weeks worth of AL (annual leave), she might have more ground to stand on for requesting an exception. But alas, I currently have a mere 10 hours of vacation and wouldn't even earn three weeks worth in the next year.

So I hemmed and hawed. Do I actually seize the opportunity and go on the Camino? Could it wait? Should it wait? Can I justify quitting my job? Should we plan for a walk later in the year? But what about my dad's health? Or what if I actually get pregnant one of these months? Should we bring Francie? What about Alex? Do good mamas really leave their precious babies for weeks at a time? Will I get sick of my dad? Will I get sick in general? What if I don't like the experience? What if I DO like the experience? What if I want to keep walking and traveling? What if I don't like spending that much time with myself, my thoughts? What if I'm bored? What if I get hurt walking for so long? What if there are bed bugs? And can I really leave behind my favorite little Bean? No one quits the VA, it's like the crème de la crème for medical SLPs. Am I crazy to leave my job? What if my next job totally blows? I don't want to regret anything. But won't I regret NOT going?

I ruminated. I had restless nights. I brainstormed pros and cons. I tried to write about it. I talked travel and walking details with my dad. I mulled over all the decisions with Alex. I got diarrhea at the thought of it all (a la talking about childbirth). I tried to meditate on it, to assess my true, gut feelings. I daydreamed about the various scenarios while jogging. I cried about it to my therapist.

Alex offered incredible support, even in the face of my absence for 3+ weeks and the loss of my part-time income. He encouraged me to quit my job, to take a trip-of-a-lifetime with my dad, but ultimately to separate the two decisions from one another.

And I had the support of Paul and Chris, who enthusiastically agreed to assist Alex with his single dad duties and help care for my girl.

And the support of my dad. I mean, did you see that postcard?!? Not that you can probably read his illegible handwriting anyway.

I received support from my coworkers, Rachael and Ellen, and, surprisingly, from my supervisor, Andrea. From my girlfriends (who are pretty much relentlessly supportive of each other). And maybe even from Francie, who said it's cool to go for a long airplane ride and then a long walk.

Ultimately, I decided to step through the open door that is walking part of the Camino with my dad. I gave notice of resignation at work on Monday. My last day will be May 16. My dad booked our plane tickets - first to Block Island to visit my brother for his 40th birthday and to meet my new baby niece (!), then on to Madrid. The plan is to walk about 17 days from about Leon west to the final destination, Santiago. But, as my dad continually reminds me, walking routes/plans are subject to change, based on weather, crowds, etc. Fortunately I'm just along for the ride so am happy to remain flexible and with few expectations.

On the professional front, I am fortunate to have some connections in the community. I am sad to be saying goodbye to working with this very specific population of veterans (history of concussion; ongoing reports of attention and memory difficulties, usually multifactorial in nature, including contributing factors such as mental health issues, chronic pain, poor sleep, and a whole slew of psychosocial stressors). I once identified this very position as my "dream job," so it feels a bit strange to be parting ways after just three years. But I have also learned in the last year that while I like problem-solving solutions for the myriad difficulties facing this particular generation of veterans, I don't necessarily love the 1:1 clinical work. I could certainly spend hours each day reading the latest research, talking about the treatment and politics and media coverage, or even reading/writing chart notes - but it is a different story when you step into that clinic room and there is an air of "please fix my problems." Those are big shoes to fill, and leave me wonting - to address this from a more systems-based approach, maybe.

I've been interested lately in a more expansive view of brain injury. Public health. Rather than using the micro camera lens that I do in 1:1 cognitive rehabilitation, I'm curious about zooming out, working with a more panoramic or fisheye lens. I am still fascinated and passionate about traumatic brain injury, particularly concussion and particularly in the OIF/OEF veteran population, and I'm hoping some time away will help me think outside the SLP box. I am interested in transitioning into a more creative role, one that more heavily involves collaborating with other professionals, keeping up-to-date on the current research, sharing that knowledge and experience, reading and speaking and writing and creating, and maybe toward the development of public health programs. I'm just spitballing here ...

I am hoping to get hired PRN or per diem or "on call" with one of the local hospitals here, ideally for inpatient rehab. And I have been speaking with a grad school friend of mine who works at a private clinic about what role I might be able to fill there. Fortunately, there are job opportunities for SLPs. A

But also, I hope to have a bit extra time off with my family this summer (tentative plans for Tahoe for the Fourth, Michigan in late July, local camping/backpacking - I know, greedy much?!?).

And also, there's writing. There's always writing, the dreams of success sitting in the back of my mind. I have ideas, but not much follow-through. In part, because I can't actually imagine making anything more of it than a hobby. But maybe the Camino will help me address some of those fears, judgments, and goals, too.

Financially speaking, my dad is a hero. He's got this trip covered. Save for souvenirs. He prophylactically denied any and all materials purchases, and that I'll need my own euro for the junk I might want to buy when the walk is all said and done. He is not, however, covering the Closeman Family basic living costs (especially those that are outside our means). Which is an issue, without a doubt. As we can't afford our current life on just Alex's teacher salary. We are hoping to buckle down and actually get some money saved before my job and thus income ceases to exist, but we've never been so stellar at that. What it really means is that when I get home I will likely have to return to finding work much more quickly than I fantasize about now.

As for childcare logistics, I have the ever-loving and support of my Baby Daddy, and also of Mimi (and Papa). Mimi has very generously agreed to come stay at our house while I am out of town, and has (attempted) to calm my nerves about traumatizing my child with abandonment issues, and encouraged me to do things both for myself and for other family generations.

The Bean will likely have a much easier time with my absence than I will. I intend to speak to my therapist about strategies to mitigate the intense separation anxiety I anticipate enduring in parting ways with my daughter. And probably from my house and husband, too. I'm already getting creative about ways to include Francie in my trip, like making a paper chain to count down days until I'm home, or designing some kind of interactive map that she can move me along each day. And there's always texting, the telephone, and FaceTime. My therapist assures me that, developmentally speaking, there is nothing inherently damaging about a mother leaving her 4-year-old for three-weeks-and-two-days for international travel. I, of course, fear the very worse. Eroding her secure attachment to me. Devastating her with my nightly bedtime absence. Total ambivalence about my return. But if her Big Girl weekend in the Bay Area is any indication, she'll be a total champ.

In prepping for the Camino, there is also the physical training and the gear. Which compared to all the mental and emotional gymnastics seems like a breeze. And a great excuse to blow too much money at REI and Athleta (see above about financial concerns). And to walk instead of run.

So, yeah, there's all that. I quit my job. I don't have another one lined up. I'm going on an international trip. To walk across part of Spain with my 72-year-old father. And will be apart from my daughter 20 days longer than I ever have, and from my husband 10 days longer than ever before. There are lots of things in the works in my head, but no real concrete plans beyond my arrival back home June 10. I'm hoping for adventures, memories, epiphanies, professional direction, writing, healing, and maybe even a little fitness along the way.

As they say, Buen Camino.