Author: ladyquirky

Learning to live life as an adventure.

Familiar

~ ladyquirky ~ Leave a comment

Why do we gravitate to people and places from our past?

Nostalgia is a dangerous friend. She tends to paint our memories with warm and inviting hues, all while editing out the reasons we left in the first place. Perhaps this is why we pine for that one guy or remember our former relationships as much happier and healthier than they ever could have been. Oh, and he is the most handsome and the funniest dude we ever met. We cannot imagine finding anyone as special as he is.

So, you remember my job? The one I am divorcing? It cracks me up that I am so much happier now, and I still find myself only remembering the good times and wondering if I will ever have those experiences again. I do not allow myself to wallow in these destructive thoughts for long, however I find them creeping about when I least expect it. I am so grateful for my new opportunities and I am really thriving. So, why do I long for familiar people and places?

I actually believe this is normal. You know the old saying, “the grass is always greener,” is not always true. The interesting part is how our emotions influence our memories and how it is shockingly fluid. My mood at any given time can profoundly impact my personal version of events. If I am enjoying my day at the new job, I tend to remember the old one with disdain. I ruminate on the days I felt ostracized and taken advantage of. I remember how it felt when I was banging my head against the wall, wishing for an escape hatch. The very next day can find me lonely and homesick, and I only remember the good times. I find myself wistful and longing for the ease of familiar places and people. I miss the inside jokes (Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot.) and the comfort of being able to be myself.

The other day I was at my old clinic seeing a few patients. When I first got there I felt horribly discombobulated, and I was terribly lonely. My dungeon of an office had been made over for a new doctor, and I felt like I was trespassing. I was adrift in a sea of fluorescent lighting. I did not belong there. It was not like a homecoming at all! Don’t get me wrong, it was not all bad. Once a couple of people walked in the door and we were catching up, my mood settled and I was happy again. By the time I left, the nostalgia had taken root again and I was wishing I could turn back the clock and start over and correct my mistakes from the past.

Unfortunately, you really can’t go home again. I imagine this is similar to trying to return and assimilate back into your hometown decades later. You remember things as they were, and it is impossible to anticipate the influence of time. Everything changes. You are not the only one who grew up. My ego is fragile, and I can’t believe this place could survive without me. Ha! They are doing just fine. They managed to function before me, and they will function without me. I am not that important. This may be the worst part. I poured my heart into this job, and that probably was not necessary. I placed entirely too much value on this role. I let it become my definition of self. I did not know who I was without it. Talk about unhealthy. 

Now I have a unique opportunity. I am learning to stand on my own two feet professionally. I have heard people say “your first job should never be your last,” and I think that is true. Just like a family, you were a kid when you started, and sometimes you have to be shoved (even if it is against your will) kicking and screaming from the nest. If you are especially clingy, (I am not saying I am) you may clutch the side of the nest and hang on for dear life, all the while pleading for someone to just pull you back in. Seriously, this is ridiculous. Well, it is! It was long past time to move on, and you were miserable! The situation had ceased to be healthy. 

I know people think I am being overly dramatic when I compare leaving my old job to a divorce, but divorce is the best way for me to explain the constant ebb and flow of emotion surrounding it. I still find myself vacillating between relief and nostalgic grief. I am sincerely ready for simple acceptance to take root. I truly believe this is right around the corner. The best thing I did was put physical distance between the job and myself. Oh, except you still work there sometimes. Is that similar to a booty call? Yikes! I had not thought of that. Oh well. Sigh. I suppose you gotta get some somewhere. I am mostly kidding. Sort of. Not as much as I would like. 

Now, please understand. I need to keep an open relationship with this place. I need the security. They are still my work family. I like to have roots. Much like a toddler, I want freedom to roam but I still need a mother ship to keep me grounded. So, the prodigal daughter will come back from time to time, and I will ride the emotional roller coaster, then I will head back out on the open road and continue to seek new adventures and input just like Johnny 5. (I’ve been trying to figure out how to put that reference in here for like 30 minutes.) I had no idea I would be so drawn to a quasi-nomadic existence. I am finding it suits me and at least I am not bored. I just like to return to my home base regularly.

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Can someone please explain this to me. This looks like a backboard suspended on pulleys between two buildings at my new hospital. Why? Why would someone put this here? Why has no one else ever noticed it? Believe me, I have asked. This is driving me nuts. I see it every day. Perhaps they ran out of closet space? It is there in case the need for emergency evacuations requires a backboard? Maybe it is a message for incoming alien spacecraft. Seriously. What is this thing? Who put it there? Is it a prank? Hmmm

 

One Year and The Top Ten Things I Have Learned.

~ ladyquirky ~ 2 Comments

So, it has been a year since I started this blog. Personally, I like to think I have learned a lot from the exercise. So, what have I learned?

  1. It is okay to use my voice in my writing. I guess the alternative would be using someone else’s voice and who needs that? 
  2. I think my excessive use of commas is improving… oh, and I don’t use as many … and — . hehe. By the way, I am not losing the italics or the parenthesis; I love them. 
  3. I have given myself permission to be honest in my writing. I can share my experience, and it really does not matter how other people feel about it. I can be unapologetically me. What a nice change of pace. It really got old, all the apologizing for being myself. People either like me or they don’t. I don’t worry about it as much anymore. 
  4. I still have a lot to learn about grammar. Damn, I wish I had paid more attention in school. I thought it was all so boring. Now I watch YouTube videos about punctuation in my free time. If only Mrs. Roe could see me now. 
  5. My friend (the one I affectionately call Lil’ Bro) does not like lists. I am just throwing this in here to see if he is reading this. 
  6. I really want to be a writer. It turns out, googling How to be a writer is extraordinarily not helpful. 
  7. I need to proofread more. Yeah, no promises. I am probably still going to fail at this.
  8. I love words. Finding new words and figuring out how to use them is way too much fun. It has helped combat my sense of ennui. See what I did there? 
  9. I see the world a little differently. I am paying more attention, and finding potential story lines. Why else would I name a random raccoon Bandito Del Toro and a green cricket Buddy Hoppy? Seriously. 
  10. Perfection is not required. This has been a really good lesson for me. I used to avoid anything I could not do perfectly. Now, I enjoy the process so much more. I don’t have to wait until I figure it all out. I can live and write now. I can do the best I can, and that is enough. 
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It’s not a road trip without an obligatory selfie. I remember back when I never took photos. That was a shame. Why do we do that? Yet another topic to ponder someday in a blog post.

It has been a year since I started this blog. I am growing as a person and I can see the changes in every aspect of my life. I am happier, healthier, and becoming a better person. I still have so much to learn and I am so grateful. Life is good today.

So, Happy Birthday to my blog.

Just a few thoughts

~ ladyquirky ~ Leave a comment

I am here to be of assistance.

How can I help you?

Is there anything else you need from me?

I will do my best to address your concerns.

This is why I am here.

 

My job is to provide a service. I am a resource. Let me know what I can do to help.

I am not here to get involved in drama. I am not here to compete in a popularity contest.

Where is the breeze?

~ ladyquirky ~ Leave a comment

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There is absolutely no breeze here. The night (well, it is actually morning) is still. The wildlife, (insects, really) are chirping and calling to each other. I love this time of morning. This is when I get to wake up and write.

Writing has become an essential part of my week. I would like to say I find time to write every day, however life gets in the way sometimes. I am not completely convinced I have anything important or useful to say, however I am certain I enjoy this new ritual. (Perhaps it is not all that new anymore.)

I go back and read some of the older things I have written, and sometimes I want to rewrite them or update them. I think that may end up being one of my projects. The fun part is trying to think of interesting ways to frame certain thoughts. I do not want this to become a journal. I want it to be an exercise in self-expression and finding my voice.

Writing is the place I can say exactly what I want. I can edit it, and take the time to attempt to get my point across. I get to tell someone what I think without them interrupting and influencing my diatribe. I don’t have to change my opinion based on other’s feedback. This is the one place I don’t have to respond to you. It’s rather selfish, and gloriously self-involved. This is my corner of the world.

I love a good story. An interesting tidbit or juicy detail that illuminates your personality. I grow and learn from your experiences as well as mine. Some people are gifted story tellers. Sometimes it is the colloquialisms they use or the timing they employ to make the punch line zing. Not every story is a joke, but the good ones have a point where one stops and just enjoys the moment.

I am so grateful today. I have been lucky to know so many people who are full of interesting stories. Their adventures keep me curious about the world. I hope I figure out how to write my stories so that others can enjoy them. I am going to keep working on it. Our stories are how we become immortal. Until then, I have to go to work.

Am I am Humanist?

~ ladyquirky ~ 2 Comments

  I have devoted much of my life to defining my … for lack of a better word, spirituality.

It has been a struggle. I have attempted (and failed) to assimilate into Christianity. I have tried to be “Spiritual, not religious,” and I have often considered myself agnostic. All of these have left me with a huge void in my life. I do not get the same peace others speak about. All I am left with is more questions than answers.

I try not to judge. If your religion works for you, I respect that. I respect it works for you. I no longer try to kid myself into believing it will work for me. I am no longer wandering down that lonely street.

The terminology applied to those who do not believe seems to be shrouded in negativity. I do not like the term atheist. That seems to imply I have missed something, or I am living without a moral compass.

For me, the opposite is true. I have a strong moral and ethical viewpoint of the world. I believe in attempting to be useful. I believe in mankind. I believe we should help our fellow man. I believe we should care about our communities. This does not make me a bad person.

I have sought religious comfort and conversion on many levels. I have “prayed” for God to “enter my heart” and show me the path to righteous salvation. I have been “saved” and I have been baptized. I wanted to belong to this community so badly. I found fear and isolation instead. I felt alienated from the group. I must be broken or faulty since I cannot find faith. This has been a struggle. The isolation I experienced trying to find God was painful. God would heal me. He didn’t. It wounded me in way I did not think I would ever repair. I did not deserve to live a good life. God did not want me.

My profession has granted me so many gifts. I finally found a way to serve other people, and I did not have to pray or turn my will over to a doctrine I did not understand. I am able to help by caring about other people. I can give my time. I can spend my energy learning and improving my skills. I have dedicated my life to being better. More importantly, I have dedicated my life to being of service.

Through my reading and research on my inability to form religious roots, I have found I am not unique. There is a whole school of thought centered in my beliefs. I am relieved to know I am not broken. I can find a segment of society where I am not an outcast. I do not have to go to church to meet a nice boy. (Funny: one of my patients this week is praying for me to find a good, godly man.)

I get it. For some people religion fills a void. Unfortunately for me, religion is too exclusive. I have been told to believe or leave. My doubts were viewed as an attack on their culture. I felt horrible. I was obviously a horrible person. Thanks for that. Your religion told me I was worthless as a child because I had questions. My attempts to understand “The word of God,” and what it meant in relationship to humanity as a whole, left me out in the cold.

I needed support and encouragement. I needed to be told it was okay to not believe. I did NOT need to be judged and damned to “hell” for not blindly following you. By the way, you all believe different things. You take what you want literally, and if it does not advance your agenda, you disregard it. I was trying to understand the rules. I wanted to be a good person. I did not want to lump everyone who had different ideas into a camp of morally bankrupt, evil people. I wanted to understand.

I have had people walk up to me, and say things like “Aren’t you Christian?” If you could just hear their tone of voice. It is offensive. I finally stopped pretending. I just said no. They quietly backed away waiting for lightening to strike.

Some people may be upset I am writing this. I am sorry to disappoint you. I wanted to believe. I just don’t. It does not seem rational to me. I can no longer pretend to believe in this supernatural omnipotent being who likes to meddle in the lives of human beings. Oh! He only gets credit for the good stuff though. All the bad stuff is either Satan, or attributed to free will. Sigh.

When my son was young, he had a stutter. (It was fixed with speech therapy. You know, science.) Anyway, his well-meaning grandfather prayed for Satan to leave his body. (Not on my side of the family, I assure you.) I have never been more angry. Don’t tell my child he has a demon inside him! What the actual fuck is wrong with you? No. That is not okay. That will never be okay. 

There are so many bad things in the world I attribute to religion. War, terrorism, bullying… It is not this grand loving scenario. To me, it is just another way to exclude people. No, thank you. I am good without all that.

This is not about religion bashing. This is about me. I have many people in my life who are devoutly religious. I actually respect it from them. I believe they believe it wholeheartedly. I believe them when they say they are praying for someone. I do not expect people to hide their religious views.

All I ask is please, don’t try to force me into agreeing with you. That makes me a liar. Please don’t demand my soul. I will continue to try to help society and to serve my fellow man. Just don’t paint me into a corner and tell me I am going to hell. That is cruel. I am not possessed by demon spirits. I am not a secret devil worshipper. I am not amoral. I have a strong ethical base. I know the difference between right and wrong. I respect your freedom from religious persecution. Please respect mine.

PS: I do not have a problem with you expressing your views. I am not going to go around and tell you you are wrong. I am going to respect you, and know that it is your truth. That is okay. Right?

It’s been 2 weeks. Now, what am I going to eat?

~ ladyquirky ~ 4 Comments

I am hungry. It is dinner time. I am thoroughly sick of everything here. I know right up the road… (at the place you can buy beer!) there may be something new. (This town is dry. Why are there still towns that are dry? Give me a break.)

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This is seriously a place. I swear. Not a great selection but, you take what you can get.

First things first. Beer. Beer sounds good. I have had a long week.
IMG_9722Now, I have to be honest I don’t usually get my seafood fix at establishments whose appearance is better suited for snow cones. This looked interesting though. There were other cars there. I assumed they were locals. It should be fine.

IMG_9721It was pretty good.

My only complaint about all the food here: it is so salty! I don’t eat a lot of added salt to my meals. In fact, I tend to border on gross, bland food because of my disdain for overly salted food.

I am more than 3/4 of the way through the long stretch of 18 days. I am getting tired. Today, I overslept. I am ready to go home, see my cats, see my family, use my new washing machine, sleep in my own bed, and get back to real life. Even if it is just for a week.

This week has been hard. I miss having my work family around me. I could have used a shoulder to cry on this morning. It’s okay. I will be fine. This is part of it. I have heard some amazing stories, and my heart is a little bigger for this experience. I have to do what is best for my patient, even if it breaks my heart a little. After all, it is not about me.

Now, I want a snow cone. #FourMoreDays

Who is the boss of me? – this started out as a serious post, and unraveled from there.

~ ladyquirky ~ Leave a comment
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Fabian Oefner, the artist who took this picture- he gets me.

When I was a child, I was quite cognizant of exactly who had the right to tell me how to behave. If an adult gave me instructions, they were to be followed. My mother insisted we (my brother and I) were going to be well behaved children. For the most part, we were.

Now, I am an adult. I still crave direction. I don’t like ambiguity. If you have certain expectations of me, I need to know what they are. It is that simple. I tend to defer to whomever appears to be in charge. It just seems like respect to me.

As a professional, you have to be somewhat self directed and regulate your behavior independently. This is a lot of responsibility. I think this skill is honed somewhat in college. You are given a well- defined list of expectations (syllabus) and then it is up to you to meet your obligations. You develop time management skills, and learn that you can no longer wait until the last minute to do a semester’s worth of work. Oh. Wait. No, I did not learn that. I spent all semester agonizing over what I had to do, and then 12 hours before the due date I would finally sit down and try to assimilate the information into something coherent. 

All the planning in the world, and I still rush through every thing. I wonder if this is a common problem. I try to keep up with every thing, and I have the best of intentions. I still wait. Where does the time go? Oh, well yeah. I stopped working and watched that infomercial. I found a blank piece of paper which was oddly lonely and wanting some doodles.

I wake up hours before I have to leave every day. I have to have time to waste. It takes me forever to get ready. Right now, my hair is dripping wet, and I am partially dressed and partially back in my PJs. Why couldn’t I just finish getting ready? Well, I decided to write about wasting time. I am wasting time writing about wasting time. Can I label this behavior productivity?

I start a book, which reminds me of another book I wanted to read so I go off to find the other book. Oh, look there is a stack of mail to go through. I make piles of mail. Not sure what each pile means. I convince myself I am sorting it out. Stick the mail in various spots around the house. So I can find it later. When I stumble across these random stacks of mail…. sometimes 6 months later, I am not sure why I kept it.

Oh, I was reading a book. Pick up magazine and thumb through it. I dogear articles I want to read later. If I were smart, I would just read it real quick. I spend so much time preparing to do things. It is a struggle.

Oh. Crap. I need to go fix my hair. I pin up the top and start to work on the bottom half. Oh! I need to check Facebook. I have 300 emails. Start going through them. I should save that one to look at when I have more time. I need to drink some water. Walk into the kitchen, and see that I need to do some dishes. Start the dishes. My hair! I have to fix my hair. I wonder if the cats have been fed. Wander into the other room to check the cat bowl. Get distracted on the way by a Target bag. What is in here? OH! Socks. I love socks.

I now have ten minutes to get ready for work. Ponytail it is.

I need a nanny. Maybe a house husband. What was this post supposed to be about? Oh. Who is the boss of me? Unfortunately, me.

This is just a sample of what my mornings are like. The struggle is real. I did read an article about the cartel digging tunnels. I want to read more about that. Oh… I want one of those miniature foxes. Are these earthquake people right? I should go visit Seattle before it is washed away.

ADD and me. It is always entertaining. Squirrel.

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Oh! I want to paint. I wish I had paints. I wonder if I could go get some. Doh! I have to get ready for work. Let me check my email real quick. I wonder what is on HBO right now…. Oops. I forgot to take my meds. Oh. and I have to get dressed.

Your Nurse Practitioner is only human…

~ ladyquirky ~ Leave a comment

  I may have underestimated the power of human connection. As a Nurse Practitioner, I am fortunate to get to meet and know so many different people. You can try all you want to keep an emotional distance. You can attempt to maintain “professional boundaries.” You can almost convince yourself these patients and their family do not affect you.

Sure, this is reasonable. It is all about self-preservation. You have to be able to leave work at work. Otherwise, you would be entrenched in stress and grief all the time. I have to be able to laugh while I am at work. I cannot allow myself to be mired down in the misfortune of the sick and suffering. I am not only a Nurse Practitioner, I am also human and I cannot help but to forge a connection with people.

It may be your wit and charm. Perhaps you told me a dirty joke I was not expecting. Your face may light up when you talk about your children and grandchildren. It does not matter what causes me to allow you into my heart, it just happens. We are humans.

When I am at work, I pour most of my energy into evaluating what you may need. I am filled with self doubt, so I agonize over every decision. (Well, as I mature and have more experience the agony is decreasing.) I hold myself to nearly impossible standards. Sometimes I am inexperienced in your particular condition. The panic sets in and I have to start reading. I rack my brain and try in vain to remember everything I have ever heard about this situation. I do not take my ignorance or inexperience lightly. I ask questions and I am very forthcoming about my need for assistance. My ego is not so fragile that I can’t ask for help. I work hard to remain teachable.

Keeping in mind when I am at work and I make a mistake, the consequences can cost lives or cause irreparable harm. I am invested. The boundaries have to be blurred a little. This makes it difficult when a patient is not responding to the course of action we have laid out. It is especially hard when we run out of tricks to try. Sometimes there is nothing we can do. This is the hardest part of my job.

Now, if you come to me looking for answers and I reach out to the experts and there is nothing else to be done… what now? I don’t get to sign off and retreat back into blissful ignorance. I am now tasked with explaining the situation and helping you decide on which actions are appropriate for further care.

I find this job especially cruel when I think you are going to do well. I see initial success in our last-ditch efforts. The Hail Mary pass seems to be working. Then, despite the successful catch, we fumble the ball. I am going to scramble to try to recover it. Sometimes the damn ball just disappears.

This is the worst part. Dying is part of life. We are all going to die someday. Yes, we can try to help people live as long and healthy lives as possible. There is going to come a time when I have to be willing to sit with you and discuss whether or not you want to continue aggressive medical care. If you tell me you are done, I have an obligation to honor wishes and to support your family through that transition. It goes against every thing in my heart. I want everyone to live happily ever after.

I can try to have boundaries and walls. I can try to keep work separate from real life. Sometimes, I will fail. In order to heal from this grief, I have to acknowledge I am experiencing it. I have to allow myself to feel. I do not want to become a cold, unfeeling person. This opens me up to heartache. I am okay with that. It also opens me up to feeling sincere joy when my patients do well. It is not all just another sad day, there are lots of victories. I get to feel them too. Yeah, it is exhausting at times. It is hard. I would not want it any other way.

How did they know? 

~ ladyquirky ~ Leave a comment

img_9655 This is pretty much a perfect fortune for me. How did the fortune gurus know that contentment is my most elusive goal?

I have shared about waiting for my life to begin many times. I always feel like I am waiting. Contentment is my white whale. The inner peace I have been hunting my entire life. I used to think it was success, fame, or fortune I was looking for.

So, what does contentment feel like? Is it just a feeling of calm? Is it gratitude? Does the rushed, panicked fear of running out of time dissipate?

I am not sure what this is going to entail. I am no longer sure what my future holds for me. I don’t even know what I want it to look like. For now, the closest thing to contentment I can find is satisfaction in knowing I am doing the best I can do. I am learning. I am working. I am being more open-minded.

I am experiencing new things at an astonishing rate.

Will I finally find contentment when I accept myself as being exactly where I am supposed to be?

These days I find myself a little adrift. I am forced to depend on myself, and to reassure myself I am doing an adequate job. There is no one looking out for me. This is new. I tend to adopt parents, role models, and mentors every where I go.

Perhaps contentment will come from standing on my own two feet. Finally proving to myself I can actually do it. I don’t have to have someone holding my hand through all the scary parts. I can work hard, and figure it out.

The adventures keep presenting themselves. I am going to make it a point to go experience as many new things as I possibly can. I do not want to feel like I have wasted my life waiting for some magic transformation. I have to facilitate the growth. I have to allow good things into my life.

No more remembering the past with rose-colored glasses. No more wistful daydreaming of the future. No more dreading yesterday or tomorrow. I am going to spend today loving the day. Appreciating myself. Treating myself a little kinder.

I get to meet new people. I get to be called a whole slew of pet names. Today, I got a “honey pie,” “sugar pie,” “hun,” and “Sweetie.” All in one patient’s room. (Kinda wishing they would have just called me Princess… but I suppose you can’t win them all.)

No one gets to decide who I am going to be except me. It is okay to set boundaries. It is okay to reach out to other people. It is perfectly acceptable to ask for assistance. No one expects me to be perfect. I can relax a little sometimes. Life is not a race. It is a winding path. You never know who or what you will encounter. May as well enjoy the surprise.

Sometimes clever (Aka smartass) is not the best way to go

~ ladyquirky ~ Leave a comment
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Nice.

Yesterday was my mother’s birthday. I was feeling a little homesick and wishing I were there to give her a hug and a kiss. So, I did the only thing I could think of. I sent her flowers.

However, I was a little distracted and failed to plan out what the card would say. I told them to just make it something nice for my mom. I told them I was out of town working and I missed her. Then, they asked what name they should sign the card. Hmmmm…. What is in a name?

I chose Princess. I thought it would make her laugh.

Well, they forgot to include the word “Mom” or “Mother” or “Madre” in the message. They referred to her as a Lady. So, later I get this text message… “Did you send me flowers?”

My first thought was “Duh.”

Well, perhaps I should have spent 45 more seconds to make the message a little more personal. I should have either used my name or a clue. (Although, everyone knows I am the princess….) There was nothing in the card to indicate anything about her or me. Next time I am going to plan it better. There will be no question who the flowers are from.

Oh, sending flowers is really easy. It is a nice gesture and you can even do it at the last-minute. It was pretty late in the afternoon when I made the call. So, boys and girls (Most especially my boy) there is no excuse for not sending your mother, sister, grandmother, best girl BFF, long-lost auntie, or whatever lady is important in your life flowers. Got it? NO EXCUSE. Make the women in your life feel special for a day.

They make a girl giggle and blush. For me, nice flowers are the epitome of thinking of you. It is not something you need. They only last a little while, and they brighten up any room. It is a pretty, fragrant little thing. We don’t hesitate to bring her dandelions and other weeds when we are only “this high,” surely our tastes (and budgets) should grow and mature as we do.

Love you Mom. Wish I were there.

PS: How are Gracie Belle and Bonnie Blue? Have you seen her yet? (My mom has never seen my baby cat because she always hides.)