• Current Reading List

    Peaceful Action, Open Heart - Thich Nhat Hanh*** Eat, Pray, Love*** Peaceful Living - Mary Mackenzie(daily reader)*** The Vein of Gold - Julia Cameron (this is a read a chapter a week type book)*** Dubliners - James Joyce*** Nursing: The Philosophy and Science of Caring - Jean Watson*** The Diary of Virginia Woolf. Volume I***
  • Two roads diverged in a yellow wood and I, I took the one less travelled by, and that has made all the difference.
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Continued careening cogitations

I have been in a flurry since my last post. I have tried to think of other words to describe my state of mind, but flurry just says it all. So many changes happening right now. The day after my last post, we decided firmly to sell our home. Well, I guess we had already made the decision, but we chose a realtor and set a date. April 1st.  Yes folks, that is just mere days away. So I really should be shampooing carpets instead of blogging, but I just had to get a few words down. There is just SO much involved in selling. So much to get ready and prepare. For the past week the house has looked like a tornado swept through, but ever so slowly things are starting to become organized and look better than the place has ever looked (well except for the ripped up tile in the kitchen, but that will be resolved soon hopefully).

In addition to the above stressors (and starting to think about where we are going to move when we leave here because we don’t have the slightest clue), I have been looking and interviewing for new jobs and still training for the 1/2 marathon. So as you can imagine, there is much more to talk about then I even begin to have time for.

The biggest, well maybe most distressing, thing that is on my mind is the very real possibility that I may take a night-shift position again. The mere fact that I am even contemplating it is boggling my mind. My first thoughts when thinking about returning to the graveyard shift, are thoughts of despair. Ugh, can I really put myself through that again, emotionally and physically? Obviously there are a lot of negatives to returning to nights, but in this case the positives heavily outweigh the negatives (even though those negatives pack a major punch). I think the money will be great. I will have scheduling flexibility so I can go back to work on my doctorate AND the organization will pay for said degree. Additionally it will be going back to work in a familiar environment – just in a different capacity. That in itself is a positive – but also carries some heavy and possibly negative punch: I will be supervising people who used to be peers, some of whom have personalities that are….well lets just say…intense.

And the damn rain today is preventing me from my long run. dammit.


too much to say

My thoughts are like little bumper cars today….careening wildly around the enclosure of my mind and smashing into each other with reckless abandon. Unlike bumper cars, whom do not generate progeny with each collision, my thoughts crash against each other and form new little thoughtlets that quickly grow and yearn for new avenues of thought… “follow me here”, “no, no I am the one you want to follow”, “pick me me MEEE”. As soon as I mentally turn to follow one train of thought, there is another demanding equal attention. I want to write about my body and health, about running, about the clothes I wear when running (and wondering if there is a running line out there for overweight women’s bodies)…I want to write about my spirituality and this sense of being led and guided, but at the same time feeling so very blind and frightened as all these changes are happening in my life. I want to write about nursing and my thoughts on being a nurse, my personal philosophies about the practice of nursing and how I am forced to look harder at myself and my practice during this time of looking for new job possibilities (what do I really want to do? and why?)

Ah me, so many thoughtlets. I also want to start getting together thoughts for this book I want to write. I mentally write paragraphs and start new chapters just about every day…but the getting onto paper is a challenge. I actually think I want to “write” this book, or at least start that way until my thoughts are more cogent. So I bought a pretty little journal to get started on this process about two weeks ago. And there it sits on my coffee table, its pristine pages quite neglected.

I think it is no coincidence that I am stirred into movement (both mentally and physically) today and the sun is shining. Well, most of the time anyway…there are quite a few puffy white clouds and some even have ominous dark linings…but they are scattered enough to let that marvelous sunshine through. As I type, I am sitting on my front steps and reveling in the feeloing of the sun on my face. I am like a bear coming out of hibernation , a long and cold and sickly hibernation at that (still dealing with the vestiges [i.e. mucus and snot that have taken up residence in my upper bronchioles and sinuses]) of that darned bronchitis …and I yearn for activity. Well at least I did make a “writing date” and I finally ran (still hacking) today. Its a start.

damned sadness

i am sick unto death of it. sick sick sick. i feel like i have been sad forever. i know that i am likely doing some avoiding, or maybe i am in denial, which just prolongs the feelings, but i hate it nonetheless. this week has been really hard. i am tired of waking up feeling sad. feeling sad about a lot of things and feeling a lot of damned grief. grief has always been an emotion which i avoid like the plague. i guess most people do. it doesn’t feel good. it is hard and uncomfortable and makes my eyeballs ache.but i have NEVER dealt with any grief like this. compared to this, the complicated grief i experienced as a result of rape and a lost marriage seem like nothing. that may be an illusion designed to protect my fragile self, but whatever the hell…this grief hurts. and it is complicated by other damned factors. stuff with another sister for one. primarily that my husband is half-way across the country and i have barely spoken with him. worry for him and feeling helpless because i don’t know what he is going through and i can’t be there for him. i miss him so acutely it is like a knife wound. we have been apart for much longer than this, so don’t think i am just being a clingy whiny baby (and if you do think it just keep your damned mouth shut).  but never under such trying circumstances for both of us. maybe this is supposed to be like this so i can have time with my sadness (damned sadness) and space to grieve, while allowing him space to deal with what he needs too. but the missing and the lonliness is torturous.

well it hasn’t all been black, so since this post is probably the most depressing post i have ever written (its all about perspective you know) i will briefly focus in on what has been good this week.

I have been surrounded by love, by women that love me. by men that love me. my brother, my father, my nephews, and even my husbands friends who have kept in touch with me to make sure i am okay. beautiful women that call me, and come to see me, take me out, email me and generally let me know that i am loved. i am so grateful for all of them. truly what i want to do is lay in bed on stinking sheets and pull the covers over my head and sink into impenetrable sadness. but these wonderful women won’t let me. blessed women.

i went to a meeting on wednesday and there was this beautiful woman from a time in my past when i was in a lot of pain. she meant a lot to me then and it felt so good to see her now. then there were all the other women. this is a meeting of women that i used to consider family…and somehow i drifted away from them, perhaps i judged them or felt that i was ready for something else. the enveloping love that i felt at that meeting was overwhelming. i started to cry and it felt so healing to just let the tears pour down my face and know that all of those women were supporting me in my grief…women whom i have loved for long, women i barely knew, and women i had not met before. the tears flowed and i felt a tiny glimmer of healing. wrapped in the love and support of women in recovery. it is one of the most profound experiences of my life. then, when i left them meeting a post-it on my window said “you are loved” with a little heart. no signature. just an outpouring of love. i felt the message was straight from my goddess…showing me her love and telling me that i would make it through this.

and as if that message weren’t clear enough. the next day, my marathon clinical day, i left the hospital feeling so drained and dreading going home to an empty house. well empty except for two little inconsolable kitties who mew their distress at my distress and the absence of their beloved person. when i get to my car, there is a little note. i know not from whom…well i do know, again a note from my higher power. it said “i love your bumper stickers. god bless you too” (i have a lot of bumper stickers…love them, and one of them says “god bless everyone, no exceptions”). I needed that love, and i needed to be reminded of it today as i sit holding the phone worriedly, sadly.

Post Success Depression

IMGP3113Yesterday I participated in my community’s music and arts festival as an “artist” selling my jewelry. I have never before sold the jewelry I make, I have always made it for myself and for gifts for friends.  The festival went well, and having nothing to compare my experience to, I was most pleased last night after the hubbub of the festival. There were highpoints, and there were low points, but I did make some money and I did get a lot of praise for my creations and overall I felt pretty good about my day.

That was last night. For some reason this morning I feel dejected and struggle with feelings of low self-worth. I feel uninspired, dull and generally not artsy or creative. I find myself thinking that the only reason I made any money was because of the purchases of friends who were “being nice”. I find myself thinking that they and other persons who bought my jewelry will later regret their purchases. Despite a part of me that says all of these feelings are ridiculous and that I should feel better about myself, I just generally feel gloomy. I did an inventory to see if that would make me feel better – and (excluding earrings which I sold very few) I sold about half of what I presented. That seems pretty good.  And yet I feel like curling into bed and hiding my head.

What is up with that? I am writing this out in a effort to understand it myself. It seems like I “should” be happily riding on the waves of a successful venture. And yet I doubt myself and mercilessly scoff at myself and my aspirations at labeling myself an artist. Who am I kidding?

Perhaps it is the gloomy day. Perhaps it is that I looked on Etsy last night and compared myself and found myself lacking. (I am thinking about creating an etsy shop to sell the rest of my jewelry). Perhaps it is simply my ego trying to keep me from enjoying my success. Perhaps it is a delusional side effect of the sunburn I received yesteray.

and I say blech.