A friend of mine posted this on Facebook tonight. It seemed remarkably appropriate for my current situation. Well, except no princes have been proposing to me lately, however that is hardly the point.
I hear women call themselves survivors frequently. I have had that term draped around my neck a time or two myself. I realized today I don’t want to be a survivor. I don’t want to simply survive my life. I want to thrive. I want to find new adventures and challenges. I don’t need to be rescued.
Too often we allow the baggage of our past to drag us down. We find ourselves swimming against the current and fighting our own progress. Sometimes it is best to simply relax and see where the river’s flow will take us.
I refuse to be a captive to the little voice in my head telling me I can’t succeed. I refuse to settle and fail to accomplish my goals to the absolute best of my ability. I won’t be a victim to my thinking or anyone else’s actions.
I have already achieved so much more than I ever believed I would. There is no indication I am going to be a failure. I deserve to give myself a break.
Survival is about living with the past. I am going to do well despite the past. I can do anything I want to do.
Some people say they are fighters. I don’t want to fight. That is painful and violent. I am going to live my life with an open mind and an open heart. I am not a fighter.
Oh, Adele. You rip my heart out! I don’t know if it is your voice or your haunting words.
I know. It’s a cliche. I am that girl. The one who loves a good cathartic cry. Who doesn’t love looking back on their life and wallowing in sentimental, sloppy emotion?
It’s a relief. It’s not real crisis. It’s a safe outlet for stress. I find my attraction to superficial emotion helpful.
My job leaves me with wounds I can’t articulate. Every now and then I need an outlet.
Adele, I thank you for the excuse to cry. Most women (even a few men) get it. We all need to feed our inner drama queen from time to time.
My big move to the Northeast is coming up fast! One big hurdle is done, now just waiting for a few more smaller things.
I started planning my road trip, and I am ecstatic to think about me and my pup on a grand adventure. I am going to see a huge swath of the country I have yet to experience.
As a human being, I must admit I am tired of all the violence. I am tired of the mass shootings. I am tired of the terrorists. I am tired of all the fighting over imaginary lines and ideologies.
As a species we have evolved enough to send a man to the moon. We can have instantaneous communication with people anywhere in the world.
Can someone explain to me why we are such assholes that we are unable to treat our fellow humans with a little respect and dignity?
Is there a point to all of this? Most assuredly there is not. I am frustrated with the fact that I am becoming desensitized to the point I am no longer surprised that gunmen went and shot up a group of innocent people. I should be broken by this news, and yet I am not. It’s just another day.
I don’t want to live in a world where this is okay. I want people to care about others. How have we managed to ignore the progress of mankind?
There is no excuse for hunger. There is no excuse for people not receiving medical care. Children should not have to risk their lives to go to school.
On a smaller scale, you have domestic violence and bullying. Why the hell can’t we figure it out? This is not that complicated. People should do their part. We should all be working towards a creating a better world.
Just stop hurting people.
I don’t want to be afraid.
I remember when I was a little girl, I would lie awake at night and worry about whether or not there would be a war here. Now, I feel like I am not even safe at my place of work. Gunmen keep attacking healthcare facilities. We have active shooter training.
What the actual hell? Why is this necessary? Why can’t we just make it stop? It seems so simple. Stop hurting people. Keep your hands to yourself. Don’t call people names. Maybe you don’t always have to be right.
I am not the most girly of girls. I struggle with the normal things most girls seem to be able to do. One of the most challenging aspects of girlhood has been hair styling. I am not even kidding. For years I did not even own a blow dryer. Forget about a curling iron. Seriously, I am the girl who shaved her head at 17.
For the past few years I have been a little more adventurous in this department. I have been growing my hair out and learning how to use more cosmetic products. (The eyeliner remains hit or miss.) I own a good hairdryer and have actually invested in a flat-iron. I am not saying I use them every day, there are still a lot of days that a ponytail is all you are going to get. Sorry, I am not sorry.
Despite my forward progress, the curling iron and all other curling apparatus have remained completely shrouded in mystery and challenge for me. Imagine my delight when I found resources for creating curls while you sleep! AMAZING!All I need is a headband? I have those! In my suitcase! So, I had to try it out.
I think the curls turned out pretty well. I was a little nervous my hair was too big and fluffy, perhaps I would be drawing too much attention to myself. I did the only natural thing to do. I paired it with red lipstick. I mean nothing says understated quite like bright red, come kiss me lips. Somehow, I managed to ignore the intense anxiety welling up in my as I walked out the door.
Femininity is a daunting skill for me. I struggle with it. Dammit! Where is my girly girl brain? The girl who understands what clothes go together and whether or not the electric blue eyeshadow is slutty or not? It is really unfair. How do you know where the line between daring fashionista and garish clown resides?
What are the rules? Don’t try thumbing through fashion magazines. It does not help.
I want to rock red lipstick. I think women who are willing to risk the red smear and mess of red on their teeth are ballsy. That is the kind of woman I want to be. It really has nothing to do with what other people think or like. I want to do it for me.
Some may say it is silly or trite to make wearing red lipstick a life goal. I think the bigger issue is whether or not I am willing to walk out of my house and wear exactly what I wanted to that day. Every moment I resist the urge to wipe it off is a little victory for me. This is similar to my old goal of wearing a dress. Now I buy and wear dresses.
I am noticing small changes in my ideas about who I am. I am braver and I am proud of the person I am becoming. Personal growth is hard to measure. It is okay to use the little things to evaluate growth. Confidence waxes and wanes throughout the day. I require frequent self- checks to keep my inner dialogue and self- doubt in check.
I wonder if other women have these issues. The confidence required to wear my hair a little bigger and my smile a little brighter is hard achieve. I used to stare at the ground and avoid interactions with random people. Now I try to be more approachable. It is almost as if I am inviting people to look at me, or offering my costume for their inspection.
Then I remember I am not seeking your approval. I chose this mask for me today. If you like it, thanks. If you don’t, oh well. To be completely honest, it is not even for you. I am expressing my confidence in my unique way. I am giving myself permission to be seen.
Stolen from pinterestAs I scroll through my Facebook news feed, I am inundated with happy couples.
“She said Yes!”
“Happy Anniversary to the love of my life…”
“I have the best boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife…”
“I love you Baby.”
Blah, blah, blah, blah. It’s not that I am unhappy for these adorably sickenly sweet couples, I just don’t get it. I am not there. I am not feeling all those cotton candy rainbows and butterflies.
I am the single friend. The perpetual third, fifth or sometimes even seventh wheel on any adventure. My friends are all fantastic about including me and I have to be honest, their husbands are exceedingly kind and never treat me like they wish I were not there. They are my friends!
Most of the time I am not even bothered by my singledom. Believe me, I would rather be single than be in a relationship that does not work. No, thank you very much. Then there are those moments that sneak up on you and catch you completely off guard. You find yourself wondering what on earth you are doing wrong.
Maybe I should try Tinder again. Maybe I should start texting all those people I used to “date.” (We use that term loosely in these parts.) I can’t believe so-and-so is getting married. WHAT?!? Look at that! He went back to her?
These thoughts are fleeting. Once I get through the initial barrage of disbelief I am happy for the couple. Well, unless I am thinking less than generous thoughts. “I bet they get divorced in six months.” or “She is only marrying him because she wants a baby.” These thoughts leave me feeling mean and I don’t like them. I try to suppress those thoughts and stop thinking about it all so negatively.
Why, if I am so happy for these people, do I find myself a little angsty, defensive, and judgmental?
Perhaps it is related to the feelings of inadequacy I experience when I evaluate my life. I have been told by society I should want to be married, have 2.4 children, a dog, and a house in the suburbs by this time in my life. When I evaluate my life on these terms I am failing miserably.
Who says I have to use this yardstick to grade my choices?
When I take a step back and honestly evaluate where I am in my life, I am doing pretty good.
I am reasonably successful professionally. My relationship with my family and friends is strong. I pretty much have the ability to go and see anything I want to experience. I have a great relationship with my only child. New opportunities are pouring out of the woodwork in both my professional and personal life. I get to go on adventures whenever I want to. I have phenomenal mentors who continue to support me as I grow and experience new things.
The only piece of the puzzle missing is a significant other. I forgot to fall in love somewhere along the way. Oops. My bad. At this point in my life, I am not even sure how a relationship would fit in. I am busy traveling and planning my next move. I am not interested in having an external influence to my choices at the present time. (Obviously, aside from my family.) I am going out and seeing what I like and essentially deciding who I want to be. What kind of life do I want to live?
Yes, sometimes I get a little lonely. We are programmed to want someone warm to cuddle with sometimes. (Euphemisms abound. Remember, my granddaddy reads this blog.) Seriously though, I am happy. I am not Desperately Seeking Anyone. At this point in my life, he would have to be amazing. I cannot even fathom what this man would be like. I try to envision what I think would make me happy, and I fail.
So, despite my snarky feelings about *your happiness, I am perfectly blissfully unattached.
*Obviously, not you, this was intended for people other than you. I love you and only want the best for you.
If you want to see more emo heart pics… I stole this one from Pinterest.
My son and I are driving down the street listening to a morning radio show. Queen Latifah is the guest. He is about nine years old.
The Boy: Huh. I thought Queen was a guy.
Me: What? Queen? Oh! Do you mean the rock band Queen?
The Boy: Yeah, We Are The Champions.
Me: That’s a rock band. The lead singer is Freddie Mercury. (Secretly relieved I know this bit of trivia.)
The Boy: Oh, yeah. What’s he doing now?
Me: He died a long time ago.
The Boy: What did he die from?
Me: AIDS.
*At this point The Boy lets out an exasperated sigh. He gives me the look I have grown much too accustomed to. You know the one, the look that says “my mom is the stupidest person to ever live.”
The Boy: Mom! (all annoyed and incredulous voice here.) To AID someone is to help them. (insert eye roll)
*Really? He is nine. How am I already stupid? This is decidedly unfair.
Me: Oh, AIDS is an illness some people get.
The Boy: Okay. How do you get it?
Me: It develops after you catch a virus called HIV. It makes your body unable to fight off infections.
The Boy: (eyes are a little wide now) How do you get HIV?
*Oh, shit. Remember age appropriate. What do you say about this? You don’t want him to be needlessly afraid. My mind is racing a thousand miles a minute. DON’T screw this up. You don’t want to break your kid.
Me: Ummm. You used to get it from blood transfusions, but now they screen blood so you don’t have anything to worry about.
The Boy: Why did Freddie Mercury have to have a blood transfusion?
*Oh, crap. Seriously kid? Now, remember this is not a civics lesson. You do not have to go into Gay rights or how we don’t judge people who are different.Get it together.
Me: Well, you can get it from exchanging bodily fluid. Moms who have HIV can pass it on in breast milk, some people get it from doing drugs, and you can get it from unprotected sex.
The Boy: Oh. Okay.
*Wait a minute! Why is he not asking what that is? Hmmmm. I wonder if he knows what protection is. I kinda hope not.
Me: Do you know what I mean when I say unprotected sex? Do you know what protection is?
The Boy: Yes, I sure do. You always wear your cup!
Me: (After breathing a huge sigh of relief) Yes, you do. Never take it off.
This short exchange was a turning point for me as a mother. I managed to have a somewhat informative conversation with my son and even managed to say “sex” to him without nearly vomiting. I find him endlessly clever and I was quite impressed by his insightful questions. I probably could have done without his assumptions about my inherent stupidity… but, you take what you can get.
Do you have any funny stories like this? How did you handle these questions about adult topics with your kids?
Hospitals do not close for the holidays. This means healthcare providers have to spend time away from their families and go to work. I have never minded working holidays. To be completely honest, I consider it a privilege.
When patients are in the hospital on a holiday, it is the last place in the world they want to be. We do not typically schedule elective procedures during those times. The people who have to be admitted usually have no other option.
I do not see any point in refusing to work on a holiday when we celebrate locally. I can go spend a couple of hours with my family or even celebrate another day, it is not a big deal to me. My family will fix me a plate, or even send a huge spread of food for me to share with my coworkers.
Christmas Eve of 2013 I was at work in the MICU. The unit was full and we were slammed when I get a phone call from my mother saying my brother, sister-in-law, and two nephews were in a bad car accident outside a small town about two and half hours away. They had been traveling to visit her family. We were not able to get much information about their condition over the phone and my sister-in-law had already been transferred to a larger hospital.
I dropped everything and went to go take care of my family. That drive was so long and I have never been more desperate to get more miles between me and Lubbock, Texas. I had to get to my brother and my nephews. When I finally arrived to the hospital, my nephews were in a hospital room filled with toys. They had been doted on and loved by so many people. Someone had gone and bought them some clothes to change into because theirs were dirty. DPS had brought them teddy bears. I believe it was a nurse’s aide who went and bought them cars and trucks from somewhere. I have never been more grateful. My boys were okay.
Christmas that year was terrible. My brother could barely move and could not see due to his injuries. His wife was in the hospital preparing to have the first of many surgeries. The boys were very stressed out, although physically they were okay. I would have much rather have been able to work that holiday.
My family is okay if I am working. There are no big personal tragedies or crises. I can focus on my work because my family is safe and healthy. If I have to leave work because someone is hurt or sick I am a mess. Work is so much easier. Once the day is over I get to go home and escape whatever nightmares transpired at the hospital.
I can devote a few hours to another person who is having a bad holiday due to their medical condition. I can spend time with a family who is saying goodbye to their loved one on that day. It is the least I can do. I did not lose my family when they had an accident on Christmas Eve. We were lucky.
My role as a healthcare provider is important to me. It is humbling and I am proud of the career I chose. I have worked hard to be able to help people. I sacrifice a lot of time with my family and friends. I work long days and some days it is so hard.
However, I will keep working holidays. I will do my best to provide care to my patients and their families when they really just want to be at home celebrating. It is my way of showing my gratitude for my good fortune.
If you find yourself or your family in the hospital on a holiday, I imagine there are more people who do not resent caring for you. If their family is like mine they will be gracious and understanding of the service we provide in our professional lives. We adapt and adjust our plans so we can be of use. Don’t worry, we are not being left out of the festivities. If we are lucky, we are good friends with our coworkers and they have become extended family anyway. It is the least we can do.
Adventures require light travel. This means you either part ways permanently with all your spoils, or you enlist the help of your awesome family to pack them away in cardboard and tape while you rush off to work.
Yes, it is emotional. It is probably one of the best things I have done. I am stepping out of my comfort zone and learning to stand on my own two feet. I am making decisions with the future in mind, instead of letting fear root me in place.
How do we acquire so much crap? I may need that someday! Don’t throw that away! Of course I know what it is! I really have no idea… But, it looks important.
Thanks guys. I threw away some more stuff. Like 4 things. Lol. I love you- and I owe you one.
The Accidental Boxer 