Even Convicts Get One

Today was a good day. Not in a "i did this amazing atypical task and rocked the world's socks!" sort of way, but in the normal people doing normal things way. I bought my first piece of real furniture that I intend to keep for years, and it was on sale. (i love ikea. love it love it love it. and also my bestie, Sarah, who helps me make large purchases by offering her minivan, her husband and her companionship on her _anniversary_. she is dedication, and I adore her.) After saying goodnight to my assembly team, I checked the mail and found a piece of junk mail. And a letter from the Virginia Board of Nursing informing me that my application for licensure as an RN is complete; pending receipt of my transcripts from college.

Life is actually moving in a positive direction. I can even almost get the feeling of "something's gotta go wrong cuz I'm feeling too damn good" out of my mind. Almost.

The feeling I can't shake is the one that wants to make a phone call. Just one. To say "life is amazing! I'm going to be a nurse, can you believe it?? Warren's wife is beautiful, you'd love her. Laura's really a go-getter on fire for Jesus. Annie's just incredible.-but I wish you coulda given her driving lessons. ............i love you, daddy."

It's one day shy of being 5 years since I hugged my father. Convicts get phone calls....and I just want one.

show me your war face

Nursing school has been three years of trying. Three years of bending over backwards to comply with regulations and a methodology of thinking that turns my brain into knots. It's maddedning. It makes me cry when I'm not the sort of girl who cries. It frustrates me unlike anything else. I just want to graduate and be done. But before I can get that little piece of paper that declares me capable of taking a test I need to finish 3 more months of this junk. Which is why, tomorrow, I will be meeting with the associate dean regarding my preceptorship. Preceptorship is supposed to carry some amount of prestige with it. It's an opportunity above and beyond the typical nursing school experience. And while my precepting nurse is fantastic, I am really starting to wish I hadn't signed up for it. Additional clinical hours and requirements with my full time work/full time student lifestyle are just running me ragged. Add the seemingly arbitrary and baseless grades given on weekly homework assignments and, well, it's fast becoming more of a headache than it's worth. So, tomorrow, I will take my overly exhausted self to see this instructor and tell her just what I think. I am paying for this torture and have been paying for it for years. It's time they actually pay attention to what's going on and acknowledge the reality above the theory.

just a whisper

today, well, yesterday, i was faced with two friends going through similar situations. neither of them live close enough for me to chat over a cup of coffee or something else warm and comforting, and that makes me sad. the other thing making me sad (aside from the fact that my smart phone apparently doesn't allow for capitalization of letters while blogging...) was the fact that i couldn't get myself to verbalize what i *really* thought. i said what i should have said, at least to one of them, but i couldn't say what i've wanted to say for a long time. why? why is it so hard for me to tell somebody the whispers of the quietest sort in my heart?

i'd like to think that it's because they're just silly thoughts i have complimentary of my commitaphobe tendencies, but i'm pretty sure it's more due to the fact that, while i'm doing well with my busy life, i am not yet fully alive.

but i want to be. and when i am, i want the courage to whisper out loud.

Epic

Can we live epic consciously? Or is it something that just happens around us and sucks us in without warning?

That's something I've been thinking about a lot lately. The men and women who fought in World War II must have had some idea of the magnitude they were living. But at the same time, all of those battles and heroic gestures were simply the result of regular choices. The eyes of history see the epic decisions, but did the eyes of the present?

I want to live an epic life. But I seem to get bogged down in the presentness of it all sometimes. I know what the good decisions are most of the time, but it's so much easier to choose something else. I should get up earlier, work out more, eat better, have a training schedule set for all of the skills I want to hone: shooting, running, rescue, nursing. I should be a machine. A machine with empathy and gentleness and wisdom and all of these other things that I do not possess enough of. Unfortunately, I'm human. And my humanness makes me tired. Machines don't get tired. The machine schedule I feel pressured to enact gets confounded by my humanity and this thing called life that keeps happening around me. But at the same time, I know that machines don't live epics. Humans do. Humans who make choices. Every. Single. Day.

And I'll take you for who you are

Have you ever stopped to think about the fact that God just loves you as you, where you are for who you are? Not for who you could be, or who you will be, or what you do, or might do, or any of that. Right here, right now. He loves you. All of you.

I think I forgot.

Just singing the lyrics to get them out of my head
This melodic sad story of things left unsaid
If I knew what it meant I would tell you myself

So buy us a song on acoustic guitar
Make me believe that it’s really not far
To get to the dreams I thought were only my own

Could you tell me the truth about the distance between
All that we want and all it could mean
If the reality were only so easy to see

just tired.

Something's gotta give.

That something always ends up being my immune system.

I didn't run a single shift of rescue throughout all of September.

I made great grades in September.

I didn't get sick in September.

I went to church more often in September.

I could kinda feel hope starting to grow again in September.

Now we're a week away from the end of October, I've picked up rescue again and loved it, made ok grades (though we'll see on Thursday if that's truly the case), gotten sick for a full week, missed church every Sunday and feel as though I'm just faking life, let alone hoping for anything other than a pillow and maybe a spontaneous show of generosity from my bosses in the form of a massive raise.

Yeah. Something's gotta give.

And I don't mean my immune system.

in the bano

Things to add to my list of life experiences: being hugged by a patient in the bathroom.

I had just walked with her to help make sure she was ok and explain the whole clean catch urine process. That was it. I felt for her, to be sure - teary eyed and essentially friendless in a country not her own, the victim of what was probably drug induced violent assault - her story was awful. But her quivering hands stretched out over my shoulders after I encouraged her to "respire, por favor...uno, dos, tres...." in my pitiful attempt at Spanish nearly broke me down.

Truth be told, it was a fairly slow night at work. No big traumas, no strokes caught in the nick of time, just a lot of abdominal pain, some drug seekers and a few interesting mild injuries. I have no idea how that woman's story goes from here. I hope it gets worlds better and that she's reunited with her family and people who genuinely care for her. And I hope that I never lose the fact that she - and every other patient - matters.

romanced

What is the exact definition of romance?

I don't know. And my current internet connection won't let me access a dictionary to find out. But when it comes to healthcare and my role in it, that's the only word that I can seem to fit. I am romanced by my job.

Cheesy - and kinda scary - I know.

Really? I ask myself. I mean, really. The whiny people, the close encounters with body fluids, the ceaseless beeping of monitors and call bells, the heirarchy and subsequent gossip? I like this?

Yep. I do.

I love the chance to help people. I love being part of something that's bigger than me. I love learning about how the human body works. I love getting a difficult IV. I love that, even on days when I don't want to be at work or deal with anyone, I can still say that I love my job.

There are nearly unlimited opportunities in healthcare. Most of them have initials: RN, NP, MD...hospitals are full of more acronyms than a military base.

And then there's the history. You can look back at the history of humanity and see evidence of medicine in practically every era. Greeks and Romans, medieval times, eastern medicine...the list continues and advances through time. Everything we know today is thanks to the efforts and errors of previous generations.

Society isn't unfamiliar with my romance. There is plenty of entertainment out there based on healthcare drama. I think the close association with life and death and the drama inherent to them draws people in. It's fascinating in ways unlike anything else.

There is no try.

I think the thing that’s been eating at me so much recently is this question:

If we spend all of our time just “keeping up appearances” aren’t we simply living shadows?

For the past few years I’ve tried to consistently be the same person, no matter the circumstance. As it turns out, I have such a wide variety of interests and broad spectrum of friends, that it seems I cannot be me without offending someone. So I’ve become this half version of me that people cannot fully embrace because I can’t fully be present.

Don’t say what you think because it may be offensive. Don’t do what you want because you’re obligated to be somewhere else. There are bills to pay and people to impress.

Why?

Am I so terrified that my opinion will leave me friendless and alone?

Even when I know I’m right?

How arrogant is that?

And twisted. I mean, seriously, it goes back to that whole “I want him to like me” mentality. If he doesn’t like me for who I truly am, then what sort of relationship do we have? And let’s be honest. That hasn’t worked yet for this still very single nearly 26 year old white American female.

Twenty six. It’s my golden year. Why do I feel like I’m asking the same damn questions I had seven years ago? In some ways it feels like I was closer to knowing who I was then than I do now – at least there wasn’t as much artifice in between me and the person people see.

Even more maddening, I tell other people this constantly. “You cannot control how people react to you.” But I try. Oh, do I ever try. I observe, evaluate, consider and anticipate and keep my mouth shut because of it.

Sometimes it’s because I see things as bigger than they really are. Sometimes it’s because I just don’t have the energy to fully engage the situation. And sometimes it’s because I’m afraid of being rejected along with the Jesus I supposedly love.

That’s what this really comes down to, isn’t it? Faith. The questions, the answers, the lack of answers, the ignoring the answers, the questions the answers raise…and the nagging suspicion that, despite all I’ve done and tried to do, I still don’t get it.

I still can’t stick with a decision long enough to see it through to completion. Still can’t express genuine affection without feeling as though I’m overstepping some invisible line.

Still look at myself first instead of keeping my focus directed on the only One who can fix any of it.

I ask the questions, beg for answers and try so hard to make it all work out. Only to fall flat on my face with lack of self discipline.

Do I know how to fix it? No. But I am going to stop half trying and see if that makes a difference.

Incepted

Everyone's asked the question, "what if real life is a dream, and my dreams are real life?" At least...I'm pretty sure everyone's asked it. I've asked it more than once, so that should make up for the few people who never thought to ask.

Anyway, Inception takes that question to a degree I don't think I could ever have imagined - quite skillfully - and makes a few other points along the way.

How much of our relationships are based on our perceptions of people, and not the people themselves? If you love someone, are you loving them with all of their idiosyncrasies, or are you loving your perception of them and how they fit into your world and how you see things?

And can you really build those architectural puzzles like never ending staircases?

What about building a less invasive version of the Matrix, using .....bracelets....that sucks you into the dream of the person on the other side of the wire?

Why do I always end up typing such dissatisfactorily short thoughts on this thing lately? I have more to say, my brain's just too sleepy to spit it out coherently right now.

Maybe I Really AM a Commitaphobe

Am I the only person who has seasonal friendships?

There are so many people who have been integral parts of my life...and we just don't talk anymore. It's not like there was a big blow up or anything. Out of the dozen or so people I can think of, only two fall into that category. Instead it's almost as if life drifts us apart like clusters of seaweed on the tide.

What's perhaps even more bizarre about the whole thing is the fact that certain people among my drifters seem to try to cling to how things were before; while others just pick up where we left off. Then there are those who never really drifted very far away, so the connection is still there, just . . . loosely; and the rest who are basically totally gone.

...in other news, we just had an earthquake. *blink*

Somewhere

There is a place I want to be
Where time slows down and my heart can breathe
Every day is peace and free
That's the place I want to be

There is a place I want to live
Where strength and comfort are gifts I give
Hearts are softened and safe to dream
That's the place I want to be

There is a place I long to see
Where trust is safe inherently
The only danger to be found
Is a step not taken to unseen grounds

My soul wants freedom, space to be
And rest from all that's wearied me
Someday it won't be just a dream
Until then, glimpses, hopefully

Here in the Quiet, I wonder

Just what kind of nurse will I be?

And why can't life be like TV, where people work all day at a frenetic pace and then somehow have the time and energy to look fabulous while chilling out with their friends over a couple of drinks and still get a full night of sleep?

Will I ever be consistent?

And what is it like to fit into a single digit sized pair of pants, anyway? Or to use styling products and accessories with skill and reliable results? Do girls really use make up every day and enjoy it? Does it make a difference?

Can I really talk to God and represent Him to the people I love who don't have a clue about what He's really like?

Without falling on my face or disappointing people I love most in the world?

It seems that I can go for only so long before dropping dead in the middle of the race, and that doesn't seem to make a whole lot of sense. I mean, we're supposed to run with endurance, not brief spurts of exhilaration. Just when I'm getting the whole balance of working out, eating right, sleeping and even a little bit of fashion sense thrown in for fun, the spend time in the Word, talk to God, build quality relationships, learn things part goes out the window. I don't want a random amalgamation of junk. I want awesome.

We always think that if we change something, it will get better. All that needs to change is us. A new town, new car, new degree, new relationship, new job won't make the difference. I keep thinking that my life will slow down when the semester's over, or when I get my degree, or if I quit running so much rescue.

It won't. I've gotten addicted to the ratrace I hate so much...even though I swear I'm one of the laziest people to ever convert oxygen to carbon dioxide. The externals don't make the difference.

God, help.

Torning (Tonight + Morning)

We got a call right when I walked in the door at 1757 - dispatched as an illness, arrived on scene to find conscious but unresponsive guy. Unfortunately, I was driver on that call, so I had the chance to look inept and wander around getting stuff for everyone else doing actual patient contact. *sigh* honestly, I need more practice with patient contact in situations like that. They're the kind that still freak me out. If a person can talk to me we can get things eventually worked out. Case and point: the call we just got at 0317. Post op dude with catheter problems. He thought we could just flush it at his house....not so much. The medic showed up, asked if I was comfortable treating it BLS and left to grab more sleep. I would like to take this moment to brag on my awesome crew and state that our response time - out of a dead sleep for 2/3 of the crew - was 2 minutes and the total call time was 63 minutes. Rock it, ladies :-D

Sarah and I raided Bloom for strawberries, bread and cheese. She concocted a spice and olive oil mixture that had the firefighters raving about gourmet cooking - even though few of them actually sampled the awesomeness.

Annnnd I fought with the internet because it's stupid for some reason. I guess basic functionality is here, but I feel lost without chat. This same annoyance pattern can be seen with my frustration at TNT for not letting Mac users watch episodes of the new medical drama "HawthoRNe" online. I don't have cable tv and I'd like to watch this show, ok?! hmph. Ah well, in little over a month all thoughts of free time activities will be out the window. I'm going to sleep now.

I think that learning to love is like learning to walk.

Horribly necessary, incredibly awkward and altogether pretty awesome

After you've done it for a while, you kinda take it for granted, and when it gets stripped away the pain and yearning for it to come back is overwhelming.

Rehab?

Harder than I want to think about right now. Just let me cry.

And so it was...

...that winter left the mid-Atlantic, and with it, Naomi's mutant power of developing lizard skin.

And also, apparently, Naomi's ability to concentrate on things like school work and tests that are happening in 24 hours.

We've had the most gorgeous-bordering-on-disgustingly-hot weather for the past couple of days. Today is overcast and drippy, but the green of the grass and the leaves is so vibrant and alive that it really isn't a "curl up and sleep" sort of cloudiness. It's aching with the promise of now.

That's how I feel these days - aching with the promise of now. Promises mean anticipation and future awesomeness and "wait and see, it's gonna be great!" but I'm living now. In the present tense.

So I ache.

And wonder what to do and where I'll go and how it all works out, only to conclude that it WILL work out, somehow and all I can do is my best, right now, so quit thinking, start doing and....

it's finals week. why am i blogging? :-P

This is Me

I think that I don't write very much any more because I'm getting better at talking - and I actually have people to talk to now. As opposed to high school when I knew basically nobody.

That said, there are still a number of things that float through my head that I don't really express very much. Or maybe I DO talk about them, but a certain depth of exploration can be had when words are written rather than spoken. For instance: I am sick of being fat. I have been fat for years and years and years. For a long time, I didn't know anything different. I thought it was normal to be a size 14 at 14 years old, and, well, to continue until you hover on the border of XL for years at a time in such a way that is nearly maddening. "Normal" clothes don't fit, and "plus size" is like wearing a tent. Great. Besides that, though, there's an entire facet of my personality that never gets to explore because of being overweight. I LOVE being outside. I went on a 13 mile hike this past summer and it was absolutely amazing -- though it took a heck of a lot longer than it should have for a 23 year old person. Hills kill me...probably always will, but they shouldn't make me feel like that after 10 minutes. I want to snowboard, ski and RUN. I want to ride in a 3 day event [and I have a trainer pushing for me to do just that this coming Fall . . . ] I want to dance.

Sure, I want flat abs. Who doesn't? It'd be nice to have things that are supposed be toned be...toned. But it's more than that. I'm sick of being the fat funny friend. I'm sick of wondering if the only reason I rarely get hit on is my weight. Not that I WANT to be hit on by skeevy dudes, but it makes you wonder when your 15 year old sister has to figure out how to handle that sort of thing when you've never had the problem.

I realize that there are so many people out there with health problems and other issues that prevent them from living an active vivaciously physical life. I'm not one of them. I'm just freakin fat.

And yeah, I've been sick of it for a long time, and sure, I've tried various diets and work out routines and whatever. I've gone down and regained and contemplated anorexic behaviors. The only thing I haven't done is actually gotten better. This isn't a disease, this is a lifestyle of ignorance leading to poor choices and denial.

Turn the lights on; it's over.

Being Single/in a relationship/Married . . . . Human?

The macadamia and I saw "He's Just Not That Into You" the other night. Of course, being girls, we don't really need a reason to start talking about relationships and people, but the movie definitely spurred some conversation. What does a healthy relationship look like? Which of the relationships portrayed in the film most closely resembled that? How much of a difference is there between relationships with a Christian foundation and relationships without one? (Somewhere in there, I pointed out that there is a significant portion of the female population that NEVER gets marred. She didn't believe me, but we looked it up - 24%. That's almost 1 in 4. Given the number of weddings I've been associated with, well . . . I won't say it here, she'll hit me again.)

And then my brother called me a couple of nights ago and we started talking about the same sort of thing - only with a broader scope. The tone of the conversation was different simply because neither of us is in a relationship right now and we can ask questions like "is it really beneficial to get paired up with another person?" Sure, the desire's there for a reason, but if you're honest with yourself, are you going to live a life of fuller productivity for God with the distraction of another person? That, of course, raises the question of which is the greater distraction: desiring a relationship, or being in one. I'm not sure we reached much of a solid conclusion with that, beyond "Some relationships are really good and definitely founded on mutual pursuit of God...others, not so much. Right now, God has both of us in a place of 'being single' so we'll just go with that." It was a good conversation.

All of the talking got me pondering. And then I read 1 John before I left for work tonight.

"By this we know love, because He laid down His life for us. And we also ought to lay down our lives for the brethren. But whoever has this world's goods, and sees his brother in need, and shuts up his heart from him, how does the love of God abide in him? My little children, let us not love in word or in tongue, but in deed and in truth." ~ 1 John 3:16-18, NKJV

I could keep typing up verses from that book - there are so many that go *ZOT!* - but I'm pretty sure that all of the random brain things that I'm typing up already are going to get confusing, so I'm going to try to slow down my thoughts to match my typing speed and make the statement that I almost used as the title to this post: love sucks.

Regardless of the context - romantic, friendship, parent-child, passing acquaintanceship - love, real love, sucks. It hurts. It's sacrifice. There are definitely a bundle of benefits to go with it - and the warm fuzzies of knowing someone else cares are pretty cool - but when you get down to the nitty gritty of just what it is that God's telling us to do.....yeah, it bites.

Think about it: when Christ was on His way to the cross, that was love. That was why He came. We're called to pick up our cross and follow Him (Matt. 16:24). Our love for Him brings the likelihood of persecution and lack of understanding on the part of others (John 15:20). Putting some serious thought into the whole "marriage is a reflection of Christ's relationship with the church" thing will absolutely blow your mind. Christ died for the church. The church is martyred for Christ. Christians don't take part in certain lifestyles because we believe they are not honoring to God. It's a form of sacrifice not unlike the sacrifices that are made in solid marriage relationships every day.

*sigh* Ok, my train of thought totally got interrupted by various dealings here at work. The general point that I'm trying to make is that love is hard. But I guess that makes sense...I mean, it's a - if not THE - key aspect of God. Without Him, it's pretty much impossible.

I am not Wonder Woman

It's true. While I may have been christened WW back at my former place of employment, I can't do everything all at once. I've tried...again. And again, well, I've failed. But! I quit while I was ahead, and life is good :-) [side note: lifting heavy boxes of paper and stuff is no where near as difficult as lifting heavy people who want to bite you]

As further explanation of my current situation, I am no longer enrolled in the nursing program that I fought tooth and nail to get into less than a year ago. When I started in the fall with all sorts of administrative hoops and other idiocy, I had an inkling that this wasn't going to work, but I gave it a shot anyway. This semester, with more credits than I've EVER taken (except for that one time back in my freshman year when I tried 21...) and a full time job on the night shift, I basically died. Not literally, mind you. In fact, I've been doing better as far as life in general goes. Academically, however, life was going less than great. I completely forgot a paper that was due, fell behind by about two week's worth of assignments in an online class and finally ended up postponing an exam until the end of the semester. I never forget papers. Ever. While online classes are easy targets for procrastination, the point I was reaching was unacceptable. And postponing exams is very near the top of "things I REALLY do not like to do." All of the stuff that I had to do would render me incapable of logical thought. I would literally log in, look at my classes and freeze.
"I should study Pharmacology for tomorrow"
"But I NEED to study micro"
"Oh gosh, that stupid paper was supposed to be submitted three days ago"
"It's 4 in the morning. Why am I up?"
"Dratit, I need to read that other thing, too . . . ."

My brain can be a pretty crazy place sometimes - and thank you for the concern, but all of those thoughts were not voices and I'm not seeing things or having suicidal ideation.

After a great deal of consideration, consultation and a rather healthy dose of prayer, I decided to drop two classes. That places me at 10 credits for the semester, and I fully intend to pull a 4.0 on them. I do not believe that education should come at the cost of my life. I love everything I'm involved in right now - my job [well, you know, most of the time], rescue squad, my INCREDIBLE friends and family... and school is just another thing to add to the list. It's important, sure, but it doesn't trump anything else - except for maybe work...and work involves income, so that's not really possible for me right now.

It might take me until I'm 80 to graduate, but at least I'll have lived along the way.