So I have had several folks comment about my lack of recent blogging activity. Sorry folks, even on Spring Break, I was a BUSY girl. I don't have the kind of sit down and ponder for hours about what I might say on here time these days. In fact, the ideas for these blogs usually come directly from a conversation or an idea that "flits" around in my head while I'm driving. Yes, I just used the word "flits". Sue me.
So I'll just give you an update on me...and we'll see where that takes us. You know I'm in nursing school, and it's kicking me in the pants. But we start clinicals, and I'm excited to see what happens next in that journey. Of course, every professor has decided we're behind, so they are kicking things into high gear at the point in the semester where you think you've got the routine down and can relax just a bit. I am back on my 4 test this weeks, none the next rotation -- happy, happy, joy, joy.
My dad just remarried, the verdict is still out on how I feel about that, but I did my part to ensure it was a memorable day for he and Lori -- even if I'm not fully "there" with the whole idea. As a good friend would say, I "put my big girl panties on" and dealt with it the best way I could. I may have a future in wedding planning...or maybe not. I had some great people there to support me and it meant a lot. I threw my own after party, and kept my party dress on because I could!
It's Holy Week -- and that means "busy". Need I say more? And I'm really looking forward to Easter dinner. (and Brad's Fried Chicken...yum!)
hmmm. yeah, I've got nothing.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Lessons I learned from my momma...
So I am apparently in avoidance behavior mode -- I'm physically tired of studying. I have no idea how I am supposed to comprehend (and retain) 930 pages of a book filled with every Diagnostic Test known to man (and woman, and child...) So, I've talked on the phone with Adrienne. I've taken a break to make dinner and get it in the oven. I've taken several breaks for football. And I've allowed myself to think, and to feel, and...
Mondays are a blessing and a curse -- generally speaking. I love that Mondays usher in a new week full of possibilities. I love that I get to spend Monday evenings with some really cool people -- and that I get to do what I love as part of that time together. But not all Mondays are "easy" -- some are downright monotonous, and others usher in feelings and emotions long suppressed. This Monday is no different, and yet, this year I have vowed to treat it differently. With respect, with due diligence, and without the kid gloves.
Those closest to me -- who actually read what I write from time to time (I'm sorry it's been so long) -- know that my mom died three years ago. January 25, 2007 to be exact. There isn't a single day that goes by that I don't miss her -- and yet I can say that the sting of missing her "eases" a little more each day. That isn't to say that I don't think of her, that's a daily occurence. Sometimes I say things that sound just like her (and my children are so blessed by those words) -- yes, you too will sound "just like your mother" someday. Sometimes I hear a song on the radio and I'm literally transported back to another time and another place, with her sitting in front of me at the dinner table or a conversation replaying in my mind.
Sometimes those memories are accompanied by laughter, and sometimes there are tears involved. (Newsflash: I cry almost every single day.) The tears aren't always sad -- sometimes, they follow a "belly laugh" or five. But they are mine. I own them, and I wouldn't trade them for all the shoes in the world. So tonight, while I'm taking a much needed break from studying, I'm thinking about all the lessons I learned from my momma -- she was a petite woman with a huge, infectious laugh. She rarely took things for granted, especially during the last decade of her life. She loved all things related to family -- even when family was really hard to love. So in honor of her -- and the woman I am because of her -- I'm going to give you just a taste of her wisdom. I can't possibly capture every nugget of "all things her" in these words, but it's in these tidbits that I remember -- and laugh, and cry.
1. The phrase "clean your room" isn't an invitation to rearrange the furniture -- or is it?
2. You really can't take it with you when you go -- but you can share it with those you love.
3. Don't say "I love you" just to say it -- but if you say it, say it often and mean it.
4. Eeyore was the most misunderstood of all of Pooh's friends. "It wasn't much of a tail, but I was kind of attached to it."
5. If you're lucky enough to have cute feet, wear cute shoes.
6. The people you love the most, and who love you the most -- are always just a phone call away.
7. Your mother can be your best friend, but she's still your mother.
8. The "stuff" you have in life isn't what sets you apart from the rest of the world -- it's what you do with what you have that matters most.
9. I was her favorite child. So was my brother.
10. You can do anything you want with your life -- sitting idly by and letting life happen around you isn't an option.
11. You're never too old to have a new hobby. (She was my age when she received her private pilot's license.)
12. Forgiveness doesn't always come easy -- but you owe it to yourself to try.
13. Laughter really is the best medicine.
14. Don't wait to live your life -- today is as good a time as any to start.
15. The people who love you most, no matter the distance, are there when you need them the most.
I love you momma -- someday I hope to be just a fraction of the woman you were. I was one of the lucky ones. ~sheri
“When I stopped seeing my mother with the eyes of a child, I saw the woman who helped me give birth to myself.” -Nancy Friday
Mondays are a blessing and a curse -- generally speaking. I love that Mondays usher in a new week full of possibilities. I love that I get to spend Monday evenings with some really cool people -- and that I get to do what I love as part of that time together. But not all Mondays are "easy" -- some are downright monotonous, and others usher in feelings and emotions long suppressed. This Monday is no different, and yet, this year I have vowed to treat it differently. With respect, with due diligence, and without the kid gloves.
Those closest to me -- who actually read what I write from time to time (I'm sorry it's been so long) -- know that my mom died three years ago. January 25, 2007 to be exact. There isn't a single day that goes by that I don't miss her -- and yet I can say that the sting of missing her "eases" a little more each day. That isn't to say that I don't think of her, that's a daily occurence. Sometimes I say things that sound just like her (and my children are so blessed by those words) -- yes, you too will sound "just like your mother" someday. Sometimes I hear a song on the radio and I'm literally transported back to another time and another place, with her sitting in front of me at the dinner table or a conversation replaying in my mind.
Sometimes those memories are accompanied by laughter, and sometimes there are tears involved. (Newsflash: I cry almost every single day.) The tears aren't always sad -- sometimes, they follow a "belly laugh" or five. But they are mine. I own them, and I wouldn't trade them for all the shoes in the world. So tonight, while I'm taking a much needed break from studying, I'm thinking about all the lessons I learned from my momma -- she was a petite woman with a huge, infectious laugh. She rarely took things for granted, especially during the last decade of her life. She loved all things related to family -- even when family was really hard to love. So in honor of her -- and the woman I am because of her -- I'm going to give you just a taste of her wisdom. I can't possibly capture every nugget of "all things her" in these words, but it's in these tidbits that I remember -- and laugh, and cry.
1. The phrase "clean your room" isn't an invitation to rearrange the furniture -- or is it?
2. You really can't take it with you when you go -- but you can share it with those you love.
3. Don't say "I love you" just to say it -- but if you say it, say it often and mean it.
4. Eeyore was the most misunderstood of all of Pooh's friends. "It wasn't much of a tail, but I was kind of attached to it."
5. If you're lucky enough to have cute feet, wear cute shoes.
6. The people you love the most, and who love you the most -- are always just a phone call away.
7. Your mother can be your best friend, but she's still your mother.
8. The "stuff" you have in life isn't what sets you apart from the rest of the world -- it's what you do with what you have that matters most.
9. I was her favorite child. So was my brother.
10. You can do anything you want with your life -- sitting idly by and letting life happen around you isn't an option.
11. You're never too old to have a new hobby. (She was my age when she received her private pilot's license.)
12. Forgiveness doesn't always come easy -- but you owe it to yourself to try.
13. Laughter really is the best medicine.
14. Don't wait to live your life -- today is as good a time as any to start.
15. The people who love you most, no matter the distance, are there when you need them the most.
I love you momma -- someday I hope to be just a fraction of the woman you were. I was one of the lucky ones. ~sheri
“When I stopped seeing my mother with the eyes of a child, I saw the woman who helped me give birth to myself.” -Nancy Friday
Monday, November 23, 2009
as yet, untitled
It was pointed out to me, by some very devoted blog followers of mine that I have been a slacker in the blog department. I have indeed. I could go on for many sentences and give this excuse or another -- or I could just leave it at "I've been uninspired". Technically, that's not the case, but sometimes it's best if I process BEFORE I purge. Believe me, you don't wanna read these things before I've had a chance to mull it over in my mind for several hours, minutes, days, weeks -- however long it takes.
As the holidays roll around once again, I'm reminded that life isn't all roses and rainbows. There's a fair share of dysfunction that comes with this time of year. And anyone who tells you their family is a "pure joy to be around" is lying to you. Families are full of flawed, imperfect, sometimes emotionally and physically draining people. People not unlike myself. I tend to be stubborn. I tend to "dread" this time of year. I tend to cry a lot -- and laugh even more. Newsflash: I am not perfect, and I don't claim to be. Although there are a few things I'm quite good at. I can sing a little tune. I am apparently very good at chemistry (who knew?) and I can clean mirrors with the best of them. That's the short list.
So as we embark upon this season of thanks giving, I am reminded that there are a lot of people in this world a lot worse off than me. At least my sense of humor is intact, if not somewhat cynical in nature. I do love to laugh, and I have a lot of people in my life who help me with that daily. I also have a family full of people who actually enjoy cooking. I like to bake. I love to cook, but being a full-time student with homework (what WAS I thinking????) has taken its toll on our family's dinner planning schedule. Luckily, there are 4 of us, and all of us like to cook so we spread the love around and everyone is happy.
I have a laundry god (but don't let that get around). I have two wacky dogs who greet me at the gate each time I pull in the driveway (sometimes on the right side of the fence, other times at the car door). I have a husband who thinks I hung the moon (we don't have to tell him otherwise) and two daughters who while at times can be "typical teenagers" -- they also have a wit that can match any other on this planet. We laugh a lot! I have great friends, who build me up -- even on the days when I'm tearing myself down. Those days tend to be the days I don't feel smart enough or pretty enough, or...
I guess all that is to say, no one is perfect. No life is perfect. Least of all mine. But I'm okay with my imperfection. It fits me like a glove, and I am well-suited to the way it feels. That doesn't mean that I can't be constantly striving for a greater sense of me -- but I've lived with me for 37 years. Some of those years rocked, and others fizzled. I am beautiful, funny, smart -- the right amount of talented to make me always want to be better. I'm a great friend, an even better listener, and if I'm on your side -- you will always take the seat in front of me. I'm a Scorpio -- and everything that goes with that. And I'm very thankful that there isn't another me in this world. Not only would that be emotionally draining for the folks who know me, but likely there would be competition.
So in the coming days, I challenge you -- tell the people in your life how important they are to you. You might think they already know (and they just might) but take the time to say it anyway. You might not ever have a second chance at making someone's day. And those people that you struggle with, and we all have those people in our lives, don't waste your time and energy trying to get even -- let it go and learn to love. Learn to forgive. Learn to be your best self. Trust me, it's contagious. ~sheri
As the holidays roll around once again, I'm reminded that life isn't all roses and rainbows. There's a fair share of dysfunction that comes with this time of year. And anyone who tells you their family is a "pure joy to be around" is lying to you. Families are full of flawed, imperfect, sometimes emotionally and physically draining people. People not unlike myself. I tend to be stubborn. I tend to "dread" this time of year. I tend to cry a lot -- and laugh even more. Newsflash: I am not perfect, and I don't claim to be. Although there are a few things I'm quite good at. I can sing a little tune. I am apparently very good at chemistry (who knew?) and I can clean mirrors with the best of them. That's the short list.
So as we embark upon this season of thanks giving, I am reminded that there are a lot of people in this world a lot worse off than me. At least my sense of humor is intact, if not somewhat cynical in nature. I do love to laugh, and I have a lot of people in my life who help me with that daily. I also have a family full of people who actually enjoy cooking. I like to bake. I love to cook, but being a full-time student with homework (what WAS I thinking????) has taken its toll on our family's dinner planning schedule. Luckily, there are 4 of us, and all of us like to cook so we spread the love around and everyone is happy.
I have a laundry god (but don't let that get around). I have two wacky dogs who greet me at the gate each time I pull in the driveway (sometimes on the right side of the fence, other times at the car door). I have a husband who thinks I hung the moon (we don't have to tell him otherwise) and two daughters who while at times can be "typical teenagers" -- they also have a wit that can match any other on this planet. We laugh a lot! I have great friends, who build me up -- even on the days when I'm tearing myself down. Those days tend to be the days I don't feel smart enough or pretty enough, or...
I guess all that is to say, no one is perfect. No life is perfect. Least of all mine. But I'm okay with my imperfection. It fits me like a glove, and I am well-suited to the way it feels. That doesn't mean that I can't be constantly striving for a greater sense of me -- but I've lived with me for 37 years. Some of those years rocked, and others fizzled. I am beautiful, funny, smart -- the right amount of talented to make me always want to be better. I'm a great friend, an even better listener, and if I'm on your side -- you will always take the seat in front of me. I'm a Scorpio -- and everything that goes with that. And I'm very thankful that there isn't another me in this world. Not only would that be emotionally draining for the folks who know me, but likely there would be competition.
So in the coming days, I challenge you -- tell the people in your life how important they are to you. You might think they already know (and they just might) but take the time to say it anyway. You might not ever have a second chance at making someone's day. And those people that you struggle with, and we all have those people in our lives, don't waste your time and energy trying to get even -- let it go and learn to love. Learn to forgive. Learn to be your best self. Trust me, it's contagious. ~sheri
Thursday, October 29, 2009
When it rains, it pours...
So, I'm not gonna lie, this day ranks right up there -- and that isn't a good thing. It started out as a decent day and then went downhill fast. Now there wasn't one "incident" that led this day to the far reaching under land -- it was just that several things hit at one time. And it's been a LONG time since I've had a day like today, a really LONG time.
So as I'm sitting at work, listening to the rain beat down on the roof -- the building is empty except for 3 other people, I find myself looking for the "lesson" in the rain -- both metaphorically and literally. Those of you who live in Arkansas, know that this has been the year for record rainfall in these parts. It has rained quite literally 23 days in October -- and this ain't Seattle.
So I'm thinking maybe it's a lesson in patience -- and then I remember Job and I don't want to go down that road, so it must be some other lesson. Perseverance maybe, or a lesson in being thankful for what's right in front of you. Or maybe it's a lesson that hasn't yet been revealed to me -- and I'm just supposed to allow the storm to carry me where it will, turbulent waters and all.
I'm not sure what is in store for me, but this isn't the worst day of my life -- I've endured far worse than a little "rain" -- so I'm going to put on my life jacket and hang on for dear life -- and someday I will look back on today and it will have just been a small blemish that I made into a much bigger deal than it really was. I'd say "bring on the rain" but quite frankly this girl needs sunshine. Then it occurs to me, without the rain, sunshine wouldn't be appreciated nearly as much. Hmmm, maybe that's my lesson...
sheri
So as I'm sitting at work, listening to the rain beat down on the roof -- the building is empty except for 3 other people, I find myself looking for the "lesson" in the rain -- both metaphorically and literally. Those of you who live in Arkansas, know that this has been the year for record rainfall in these parts. It has rained quite literally 23 days in October -- and this ain't Seattle.
So I'm thinking maybe it's a lesson in patience -- and then I remember Job and I don't want to go down that road, so it must be some other lesson. Perseverance maybe, or a lesson in being thankful for what's right in front of you. Or maybe it's a lesson that hasn't yet been revealed to me -- and I'm just supposed to allow the storm to carry me where it will, turbulent waters and all.
I'm not sure what is in store for me, but this isn't the worst day of my life -- I've endured far worse than a little "rain" -- so I'm going to put on my life jacket and hang on for dear life -- and someday I will look back on today and it will have just been a small blemish that I made into a much bigger deal than it really was. I'd say "bring on the rain" but quite frankly this girl needs sunshine. Then it occurs to me, without the rain, sunshine wouldn't be appreciated nearly as much. Hmmm, maybe that's my lesson...
sheri
Saturday, October 10, 2009
what a weekend...
I'm not gonna lie, today was a killer day. It wasn't killer in the sense of "I worked hard" or anything of that nature. It was emotionally draining. I drove to Mtn. Home yesterday for what was supposed to be a fun weekend "reunion" of sorts with old high school friends (and it was to a very limited extent) but in the process of looking forward to spending time catching up and telling stories and laughing a lot (because that's what we all do when we're together) life happened. My best friend from college lost her momma, so my fun weekend turned into a "support your friend when she needs you the most" weekend.
I guess I didn't take into account that I might somehow be affected in some way other than being sad because momma Jo died and my friend was grieving a huge loss in her life. I mentally "prepared" myself by listening to happy music for the entire drive up. I even wore a dress that kinda makes me happy. And I made it through visitation just fine -- of course, so did she. But today was another beast all together. I fully expected there to be tears, and lots of them. I've been there and there's no way to describe what a girl goes through when your momma dies. But the part I forgot, was how a daddy reacts to the death of his wife. It came out of left field and caught me completely by surprise. And then the flood gates opened.
And not only was I totally unprepared for the magnitude of water pouring from my eyes, I found myself sitting at a funeral without a single tissue in sight. I guess I underestimated my reaction in more ways than one. I was a brownie for all of five minutes and I did learn to "be prepared" -- but today I was unprepared to the nth degree. Note to self: tissue packs for the car and purse are necessary at all times, just in case you need them...
In addition to all of that, I was also sitting by myself -- mind you, I was surrounded by other people, but none that I knew personally. And then at the end of the service, the "ticker tape parade" started. Now I'm not trying to sound cold or callous. I know that different traditions are in place for different families -- some are in place in my own family. But the "walk past the casket in a single file line" part of funerals is not my favorite. First off, the person is no longer present in the room. Secondly, as someone who's been down that road a few times, it's torture to watch other people's reactions to that part of the service. And so for a moment I debated. Do I sneak out the back or fall in line and do what's expected? I did the latter. And when I had walked past (with only a slight glance), tears in my eyes -- I looked at my friend and she mouthed "I love you" and I knew that it was all worth it.
I found myself playing over and over in my head things that I might say to Nikki and her sisters to help them get through this tough time. And then I reminded myself that words won't fix the hurt in their hearts, and they likely won't remember the words of this day past this week. So I put my words on the back burner and was just their friend -- who came to support them on a tough day. I ate lunch with their family. We went back to her dad's house (myself and former classmates/neighbors) and we laughed -- a lot. Mind you, there were only two people that I was actually close to in high school and I wasn't the former neighbor who grew up next door and caused all kinds of trouble. I was the college roommate, former sister-in-law, bridesmaid, and friend who was there to share in the laughter -- and the tears.
I know what her journey will look like -- kinda. But it's her journey, not mine. We share the loss of a mother, but not the moments that led up to that loss. As her friend, I can be an ear when she needs one and a shoulder to cry on. I can be the friend that just listens when she needs to scream and yell (and there will be many days where she wants to scream and yell). The friend she confides in when she thinks it's too heavy a burden to lay on her sisters who are grieving in their own way. And I can offer her encouragement when she gets frustrated by the fact that her daddy's journey of grief won't make sense to her or her sisters. Those will be the things that mean the most to her when she finds herself a little more distanced from the magnitude of grief she feels at this moment. I won't lie, you are forever changed when your momma dies, but if you're fortunate enough to have family and friends that help hold you together on the days when you can't do it for yourself -- you come out a little stronger on the other side. ~sheri
I guess I didn't take into account that I might somehow be affected in some way other than being sad because momma Jo died and my friend was grieving a huge loss in her life. I mentally "prepared" myself by listening to happy music for the entire drive up. I even wore a dress that kinda makes me happy. And I made it through visitation just fine -- of course, so did she. But today was another beast all together. I fully expected there to be tears, and lots of them. I've been there and there's no way to describe what a girl goes through when your momma dies. But the part I forgot, was how a daddy reacts to the death of his wife. It came out of left field and caught me completely by surprise. And then the flood gates opened.
And not only was I totally unprepared for the magnitude of water pouring from my eyes, I found myself sitting at a funeral without a single tissue in sight. I guess I underestimated my reaction in more ways than one. I was a brownie for all of five minutes and I did learn to "be prepared" -- but today I was unprepared to the nth degree. Note to self: tissue packs for the car and purse are necessary at all times, just in case you need them...
In addition to all of that, I was also sitting by myself -- mind you, I was surrounded by other people, but none that I knew personally. And then at the end of the service, the "ticker tape parade" started. Now I'm not trying to sound cold or callous. I know that different traditions are in place for different families -- some are in place in my own family. But the "walk past the casket in a single file line" part of funerals is not my favorite. First off, the person is no longer present in the room. Secondly, as someone who's been down that road a few times, it's torture to watch other people's reactions to that part of the service. And so for a moment I debated. Do I sneak out the back or fall in line and do what's expected? I did the latter. And when I had walked past (with only a slight glance), tears in my eyes -- I looked at my friend and she mouthed "I love you" and I knew that it was all worth it.
I found myself playing over and over in my head things that I might say to Nikki and her sisters to help them get through this tough time. And then I reminded myself that words won't fix the hurt in their hearts, and they likely won't remember the words of this day past this week. So I put my words on the back burner and was just their friend -- who came to support them on a tough day. I ate lunch with their family. We went back to her dad's house (myself and former classmates/neighbors) and we laughed -- a lot. Mind you, there were only two people that I was actually close to in high school and I wasn't the former neighbor who grew up next door and caused all kinds of trouble. I was the college roommate, former sister-in-law, bridesmaid, and friend who was there to share in the laughter -- and the tears.
I know what her journey will look like -- kinda. But it's her journey, not mine. We share the loss of a mother, but not the moments that led up to that loss. As her friend, I can be an ear when she needs one and a shoulder to cry on. I can be the friend that just listens when she needs to scream and yell (and there will be many days where she wants to scream and yell). The friend she confides in when she thinks it's too heavy a burden to lay on her sisters who are grieving in their own way. And I can offer her encouragement when she gets frustrated by the fact that her daddy's journey of grief won't make sense to her or her sisters. Those will be the things that mean the most to her when she finds herself a little more distanced from the magnitude of grief she feels at this moment. I won't lie, you are forever changed when your momma dies, but if you're fortunate enough to have family and friends that help hold you together on the days when you can't do it for yourself -- you come out a little stronger on the other side. ~sheri
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Words
Something I know about myself -- I like words. I like to use words. I try really hard to use my words to build others up, but I think that goes back to the "treat others as you would like to be treated" lesson I learned from my momma. I also like to use my words in this setting. This blog is actually like my diary (only I don't bore you with all the details of my life.) Trust me, you don't have that kind of time and since I have never been one to journal daily, neither do I.
And there are times when I wish the inspiration would hit when it's convenient, like when I'm actually sitting in front of the computer. That rarely happens. Take that back, it NEVER happens. I usually get the inspiration to blog over the course of several days. Usually it's a build-up of several days worth of conversations. An idea hits, I let it "churn" for a few days and then I have this intense need to get to the computer and purge so I don't forget some nugget or morsel that I really need to hear. That's right, that I need to hear. I said this was a diary. While I'm opening myself up to you, the reader, this blog isn't really about you. It's about me. It's about lessons I've learned, or lessons that I need to remind myself of daily. While most of those lessons are applicable to others, I don't usually write for "them". I write for me. It's my way to release tension and relieve stress -- to de-clutter my mind so that I can move on to the next thing that needs my attention.
Those who follow this blog, know that I'm in nursing school. And one of the classes that my particular school requires is a class called Spiritual Perspectives for Healthcare Professionals. It is without a doubt my least favorite class. UGH! (Did I mention it's also at 8 am?) The idea of approaching healthcare from a spiritual perspective isn't where the problem lies. It's the professor. I find him to be a bit callous in his approach to teaching. He's funny. He gets LOTS of laughs -- I'm usually not one of the folks laughing. Now, I appreciate humor. I get comments about my laugh all the time, it's huge and easily recognizable. But when you're talking about serious issues, it's easy to downplay them for the sake of comedic relief.
Maybe it's my personal experiences that lead me to this conclusion. I will never find talking about death or dying -- or the process one goes through in getting there -- to be a "funny" topic. Today, he casually mentioned having to "counsel" a patient who has stage IV Pancreatic Cancer. He made light of the fact that this person "hasn't connected the dots". He even got chuckles from the class. Maybe it's just me, but I was offended for that person. I am sure he is better at his job and dealing with each particular situation than he is about giving specific examples to his students. However, the entire time he was talking, I kept thinking -- that person is someone's mother/father/sister/brother/child/friend. Perhaps I should offer a disclaimer -- death and dying are something I have had considerable experience with. I know it's a part of life. I know that at some point in time, everyone will deal with it. But in my short 36 years on this planet, I've dealt with more than my fair share. I think that makes me much more sensitive to other people's feelings about it. Perhaps it will even make me a better nurse.
Now, I'm not naive enough to think that my sometimes overly emotional nature isn't going to come back to kick me in the pants at some point in time. And what I ultimately want to do with nursing will likely have more than it's fair share of tears. My nature is to connect with people. While I may not have a lot of close relationships, I tend to connect emotionally -- at least on some level -- with others. I know that about myself. My hope is that I don't ever become so accustomed to "doing my job" that I forget why I wanted to be a nurse in the first place. I hope I'm never one of those people who does it to "make a paycheck" but that first, and foremost, I remember that each person I encounter in my job is someone's parent/child/spouse.
And there are times when I wish the inspiration would hit when it's convenient, like when I'm actually sitting in front of the computer. That rarely happens. Take that back, it NEVER happens. I usually get the inspiration to blog over the course of several days. Usually it's a build-up of several days worth of conversations. An idea hits, I let it "churn" for a few days and then I have this intense need to get to the computer and purge so I don't forget some nugget or morsel that I really need to hear. That's right, that I need to hear. I said this was a diary. While I'm opening myself up to you, the reader, this blog isn't really about you. It's about me. It's about lessons I've learned, or lessons that I need to remind myself of daily. While most of those lessons are applicable to others, I don't usually write for "them". I write for me. It's my way to release tension and relieve stress -- to de-clutter my mind so that I can move on to the next thing that needs my attention.
Those who follow this blog, know that I'm in nursing school. And one of the classes that my particular school requires is a class called Spiritual Perspectives for Healthcare Professionals. It is without a doubt my least favorite class. UGH! (Did I mention it's also at 8 am?) The idea of approaching healthcare from a spiritual perspective isn't where the problem lies. It's the professor. I find him to be a bit callous in his approach to teaching. He's funny. He gets LOTS of laughs -- I'm usually not one of the folks laughing. Now, I appreciate humor. I get comments about my laugh all the time, it's huge and easily recognizable. But when you're talking about serious issues, it's easy to downplay them for the sake of comedic relief.
Maybe it's my personal experiences that lead me to this conclusion. I will never find talking about death or dying -- or the process one goes through in getting there -- to be a "funny" topic. Today, he casually mentioned having to "counsel" a patient who has stage IV Pancreatic Cancer. He made light of the fact that this person "hasn't connected the dots". He even got chuckles from the class. Maybe it's just me, but I was offended for that person. I am sure he is better at his job and dealing with each particular situation than he is about giving specific examples to his students. However, the entire time he was talking, I kept thinking -- that person is someone's mother/father/sister/brother/child/friend. Perhaps I should offer a disclaimer -- death and dying are something I have had considerable experience with. I know it's a part of life. I know that at some point in time, everyone will deal with it. But in my short 36 years on this planet, I've dealt with more than my fair share. I think that makes me much more sensitive to other people's feelings about it. Perhaps it will even make me a better nurse.
Now, I'm not naive enough to think that my sometimes overly emotional nature isn't going to come back to kick me in the pants at some point in time. And what I ultimately want to do with nursing will likely have more than it's fair share of tears. My nature is to connect with people. While I may not have a lot of close relationships, I tend to connect emotionally -- at least on some level -- with others. I know that about myself. My hope is that I don't ever become so accustomed to "doing my job" that I forget why I wanted to be a nurse in the first place. I hope I'm never one of those people who does it to "make a paycheck" but that first, and foremost, I remember that each person I encounter in my job is someone's parent/child/spouse.
Monday, September 28, 2009
precious jewels
So, it's obviously late -- and since I have class in the am, I SHOULD be in bed. But life happens when you least expect it, and tonight it is happening all over the place. I think it's in the late hours of the night (or wee hours of the morning) that I find my mind most restless. I'm not exactly sure about why that happens, other than it's the only time I'm really still -- and quiet. I spend most of my weekends of late doing homework -- trying to fit in studying wherever I can during the week. I have time between my classes at school, so I use that time, as well. Tonight however, I have been somewhat distracted all evening. And it isn't just a random thought or getting off task for a bit, it's big "I really need to think about this" kind of distractions.
I'm really not trying to talk in code, although I do a pretty good job of that at times. I found out about a week ago that my bestie (you know the type -- you go for months or weeks not talking to each other except an occasional post to facebook but you're there for each other when it counts the most) is really having a hard time. I have really struggled with how to reach out to her. We were college roommates -- and unlikely friends who happened to need someone to share the rent with. We cried over boys together. We laughed a lot. She was maid of honor in my wedding. She married my brother (later to have her heart trampled by him). She was there for the birth of my oldest daughter. We lost touch for several years, and always seem to reconnect over some tragedy. I called her personally to tell her about my brother's death (and later to tell her about my momma). We have literally cried more than we've laughed in our recent moments together. We always say "let's keep in touch -- let's do better" and yet tragedy is what seems to bring us together.
So, I'm talking to her tonight on Facebook chat. She was on, I was up -- we both needed each other, I suspect. And the months that we haven't spoken just kinda melted away. She's having a hard time, it's a subject on which I can relate. I express my desire to be closer to her when she needs me -- she reassures me that I would be there if I could (and I am when it matters most) and then it hits me. Real friends are a dime a dozen. So then, with tears streaming down my face I do an inventory of my really close friends. I suspect I'm luckier than most.
I can remember a time not too terribly long ago (therapy comes to mind) when I was given the assignment of doing an inventory very similar to this. I was in the middle of a rough time. One relationship was strained, to say the least, and I was actually having a pity party because I could only count 6 close relationships (excluding my spouse). I think I read somewhere that a person is only capable of maintaining 6 close relationships at a time. And as far as total relationships you can have at one time, it maxes out around 30. I know a few people who would be hard pressed to come up with a handful.
So I count myself lucky. I have several friends that it doesn't matter how many miles separate us, we still manage to pick up right where we left off. And we have a lot of fun together. I have some friends that I know I can talk to about anything that's going on with me -- good, bad and ugly -- and their love for me isn't going to waiver. And I have a couple that are precious jewels. Not only do they love you no matter what -- BUT they also tell you you're beautiful when you have mascara smeared down your face and your eyes are puffy from crying. And they are willing to cry with you if necessary (and it's almost always necessary) and they don't really mind because they know you would do the same thing in that situation.
So, friend -- my thoughts are with you. I understand, and I know exactly what you're going through. I am in my car and headed to your house, just say the word. We will undoubtedly cry together, and laugh in between -- and I will tell you "you're beautiful" even when your eyes are puffy and you have mascara smeared down your face. You don't have to be strong for everyone else. (I know how hard it is to see your daddy breakdown.) It's okay to fall apart -- your real friends will be there to pick you up and put you back together. While the "together" may never be the same, you will come out on the other side. And someday, late at night, you too will do an inventory of your relationships. You will realize that you are one lucky girl, with really great friends -- who would do it all over again, as many times as necessary.
I'm really not trying to talk in code, although I do a pretty good job of that at times. I found out about a week ago that my bestie (you know the type -- you go for months or weeks not talking to each other except an occasional post to facebook but you're there for each other when it counts the most) is really having a hard time. I have really struggled with how to reach out to her. We were college roommates -- and unlikely friends who happened to need someone to share the rent with. We cried over boys together. We laughed a lot. She was maid of honor in my wedding. She married my brother (later to have her heart trampled by him). She was there for the birth of my oldest daughter. We lost touch for several years, and always seem to reconnect over some tragedy. I called her personally to tell her about my brother's death (and later to tell her about my momma). We have literally cried more than we've laughed in our recent moments together. We always say "let's keep in touch -- let's do better" and yet tragedy is what seems to bring us together.
So, I'm talking to her tonight on Facebook chat. She was on, I was up -- we both needed each other, I suspect. And the months that we haven't spoken just kinda melted away. She's having a hard time, it's a subject on which I can relate. I express my desire to be closer to her when she needs me -- she reassures me that I would be there if I could (and I am when it matters most) and then it hits me. Real friends are a dime a dozen. So then, with tears streaming down my face I do an inventory of my really close friends. I suspect I'm luckier than most.
I can remember a time not too terribly long ago (therapy comes to mind) when I was given the assignment of doing an inventory very similar to this. I was in the middle of a rough time. One relationship was strained, to say the least, and I was actually having a pity party because I could only count 6 close relationships (excluding my spouse). I think I read somewhere that a person is only capable of maintaining 6 close relationships at a time. And as far as total relationships you can have at one time, it maxes out around 30. I know a few people who would be hard pressed to come up with a handful.
So I count myself lucky. I have several friends that it doesn't matter how many miles separate us, we still manage to pick up right where we left off. And we have a lot of fun together. I have some friends that I know I can talk to about anything that's going on with me -- good, bad and ugly -- and their love for me isn't going to waiver. And I have a couple that are precious jewels. Not only do they love you no matter what -- BUT they also tell you you're beautiful when you have mascara smeared down your face and your eyes are puffy from crying. And they are willing to cry with you if necessary (and it's almost always necessary) and they don't really mind because they know you would do the same thing in that situation.
So, friend -- my thoughts are with you. I understand, and I know exactly what you're going through. I am in my car and headed to your house, just say the word. We will undoubtedly cry together, and laugh in between -- and I will tell you "you're beautiful" even when your eyes are puffy and you have mascara smeared down your face. You don't have to be strong for everyone else. (I know how hard it is to see your daddy breakdown.) It's okay to fall apart -- your real friends will be there to pick you up and put you back together. While the "together" may never be the same, you will come out on the other side. And someday, late at night, you too will do an inventory of your relationships. You will realize that you are one lucky girl, with really great friends -- who would do it all over again, as many times as necessary.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)