Nomadic Nurse Diaries

Dear Road Trip Diaries,

Trigger Warning: Mental health, depression, suicide, PTSD.

It’s been a hell of a week… you know, the kind of week that feels both like an eternity and a blink of an eye at the same time. But here I am, finally out in Washington, and I had my first day at work. Spoiler alert: it went well, but more on that later. First, let me catch you up on how I got here, because oh boy, was it a journey.

Packing my van took way longer than I had imagined. But then again, packing up your life into a 10’x6’ space is no small feat—especially when that space also has to accommodate two small cabinets for clothes, one miscellaneous cabinet, and three drawers to hold everything else, including my podcasting equipment and art supplies. You get the point… no space, but tons of stuff. I ended up packing a box and sticking it in the passenger seat, with the intention of eventually finding homes for all those odds and ends. Honestly, though, I think I did a pretty damn good job. I’m making it sound smaller than it really is. There are tons of little hiding spots built into the van. I just need to declutter a tiny bit more—maybe one more purge of things—and it’ll be perfectly organized. Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself.

Now, let’s talk about the road trip. I left my house in Salt Lake City at 9 PM and headed north. I had a decision to make—the short and direct route through Idaho and up to Washington via Portland, or the long and scenic route. I’ll give you one guess as to which one I took.

Yup, long and scenic route. Because why take the easy way when you can take the one that feeds your soul?

My first stop was Utah State University, the place where I got my first degree and spent a solid seven years of my life. I drove through downtown Logan, taking in all the changes. The town had grown, but it still had that charm I remembered. It’s like running into an old friend who’s changed, but in all the right ways.

After a couple of hours on the road, I took Stella out for a walk on campus. It was empty, lit by the half-moon, and I had nothing but smiles and love while I was there. Which, honestly, could use some reflecting on because, if I’m being real, I seriously struggled with my mental health while living in Logan.

That town saw me through the darkest period of my life. I want to be real and relatable, always, but I won’t go into too much detail—because why? It’s not necessary. But I struggled A LOT with depression my early twenties, even earning myself a spot in the hospital at one point. I battled suicidal ideation on a regular basis due to a certain trauma that happened and, frankly, my brain chemistry hating me.

But despite all that, I felt none of those old emotions walking around my familiar campus that saw me through all of it. I had a smile plastered on my face the entire time, feeling content and full of thanks and love for the place. Because all the years later, (I almost just told you guys my name haha!) I am doing really well, thanks to that place.

Writing this now, I wonder if maybe I was feeling that way because I made it through. Maybe Logan will always be a place I hold dear. After all, my formative early twenties were spent there. I hope that no matter what, I’ll always be able to look back on it with fondness.

After our long walk covering all of the campus, we got back in the van and headed north again. At this point, it was midnight, and we were driving through rural Idaho on a one-lane highway. Our destination: Montana.

Spoiler: we didn’t make it to Montana that night. By 1:45 AM, I was zoning out. Not from tiredness, but from the sheer monotony of that one-lane highway, only lit by Poppy’s headlights. The scenery was nothing but endless hayfields and sagebrush. I love hayfields and sagebrush, don’t get me wrong, but not when I haven’t slept and need to stay vigilant for any surprises on the road. So I decided it was time to pull off and find the nearest rest station.

Only, I couldn’t find a rest station. By this point, I was fighting to keep my eyes open. After an hour more on this highway, I had made it to Pocatello facepalm and was totally exhausted. Apple Maps directed me to a Love’s rest station.

Spoiler: the rest station is now an apartment complex. Thanks, Apple Maps.

So, we settled for a nearby neighborhood. I found a quiet corner and turned in for the night. I woke up at 5:45, not wanting to make anyone uncomfortable with a suspicious van outside their home. I don’t blame them for feeling this way—if I saw a van like mine parked outside, I’d be side-eyeing it too. We drove to a Chevron, where I took Stella out and got ready for the long road ahead. Side note: that Chevron has phenomenal coffee. Best gas station coffee I’ve had, hands down.

With a cup of delicious coffee in hand, we set off for Bozeman, Montana—a place I’ve always wanted to see. But that’s a story for another time. This is just part one of three in my road trip saga, so stay tuned for the rest. Trust me, it gets better.

Until then, cheers to the open road and the little adventures that make it all worthwhile.

The Nomadic Nurse