Emerging From Hibernation

“You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you read a book (Lady Chatterley, for instance), or you take a trip, or you talk with Richard, and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom(when hibernating becomes dangerous and might degenerate into death): absence of pleasure. That is all. It appears like an innocuous illness. Monotony, boredom, death. Millions live like this(or die like this) without knowing it. They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children. And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death."”  - Anais Nin

I am hibernating.  I have been hibernating.  I was cocooned in a false sense of comfort, of security.  I know this.  I actively let myself be lulled into this "comfort", of being "home."  Home wasn't the answer, and I know this definitively by the restlessness, the impatience in my heart, in my soul.  It's time to wake up.

I must be destined to be a travel nurse, because I find myself getting that restlessness about the 3 month mark after being any one place.  I was held captive by circumstance, by a relationship that was more or less doomed from the start...but, bright eyed optimist that I was, I was set on my course, dedicated to what I felt was my purpose.  13 years in my "prison", and now...near anxiety attacks at the thought of being held anywhere for too long.

There are people that are doubting my choice.  Some not very nice comments have been made to me, by people I love very much, because of my decision to take a travel contract and leave this "home" I have established.  My "emotional stability" has been called into question.  I can't even express how badly that fight hurt me.  I'm never happier than when I am traveling, and right now, being here, being stationary, is making me restless.  So, to have my "decision making ability" questioned, because of a hiccup in my personal life...well...thanks. 

One of my best friends asked me not long ago, "Mandy.  What are you going to do when there is nowhere left to run?"  My response was short.  There are now 7 billion people on this planet.  There is always somewhere to run.  I want to run.  I look forward to moving every 3 months again...seeing new places, meeting new people. 

I have a WIDE support net.  I make friends easily, and I am fairly well traveled.  Yes, I've been "down" lately, and personally, I think I have a fucking right to be.  My life has been a little bit topsy turvy for the past year to two years.  Just when I thought I was standing on relatively solid ground, there went the rug.  Right now, I'm a hell of a lot better than I was 2 weeks ago, and each day is easier and easier.  Staying here...that's the trouble. 

I find it funny how I can be MORE lonely when "surrounded" by family and friends, than when I am on the road...but I am.  It's oppressive, right now, this loneliness.  And I hate it. 

Traveling makes me happy.  I want to be happy, and I want to stop ALWAYS thinking about how my decision is going to affect someone else's happiness.  For once, I want to do something for myself, and feel no guilt.  I am resisting the guilt on this point.  I have no ties, nothing tethering me to this point on the map.  Nothing tethering me anywhere...free as a bird.  And I am counting down the days (19) until I can take flight again. 

Recovery

“There is nothing in the world so wonderful as to love and be loved; there is nothing so devastating as love lost.”

Love is an addiction.  It gets you high, you focus on it to the point of excluding other aspects of your life...friends, family, job.  You find this person, you connect, and suddenly, your world revolves around them.  You make plans, you laugh and scheme together.  They are the first thing you think about during the day, the last thing you think about at night, and most of what you think about at all points inbetween. 

And then...one day...it's just...gone. 

And, usually, really, just one of you is left standing there with a shattered heart, confused mind, and horridly vacillating emotions. 

Then comes the withdrawal.  Worst case, it makes you physically ill.  It's worse than having your loved one die.  The dead can't willingly ignore you.  They can't purposefully prove that they don't care, maybe never cared. 

Then comes the part where you make an utter fool out of yourself.  Fixated on what you must have done wrong, to make them so abruptly fall out of "love" with you.  How, seemingly overnight, this person that swore they couldn't be without you, doesn't even acknowledge your existence.  You. Are. Nothing. 

And your brain is very smugly telling you "I told you so.  I tried to warn you."  Yes, brain...you did.  But, my simple, girly heart beat you into submission with a Louisville slugger, and now you've earned the right to say "I told you so." 

My eyes and my ears betrayed me.  I know it was too soon, too soon after betrayal and loss to invest myself, yet again, in someone else...but...words are my strength, AND my kryptonite.  And I was utterly swayed by pretty words.  And then destroyed by their absence.

In my case, my "withdrawal" was compounded by some serious illness, both legitimate and psychosomatic.  But, I have no excuse for my behavior.  I truly couldn't help myself...desperate, pathetic.  Wanting so badly to talk to him again.  Words...and the pain of being ignored.  The realization that, in all probability, you never even cross his mind. 

So, you make the choice to start recovery.  Rehab for the broken heart.  Where in the HELL do I begin that process? 

By writing.  I have hesitated in writing this.  I don't think there is a chance he will read it, and I hope he doesn't.  This is me, getting this out of my head.  This is not intended to hurt anyone.  I worry things over and over and over until I drive myself insane.  I stress myself out.  Writing...helps me deal.  Write it down, and hope it blows away on the wind, like Dandelion fluff...

I am ready for these feelings to float away on the breeze.  I want to move on.  I am trying. 
 

Whatever gets you through the day...

“Time doesn't. All that Time does is make it more distant, put more space between you and what happened. It doesn't heal anything. I don't know how or what does the healing, but it isn't Time.” - Mercedes Lackey

The last 9 days or so of my life have been...unpleasant.  Scratch that, they've been a clusterfuck of epic proportions.  I never get "sick."  I get run down, tired...I have days where I don't feel my best...but truly sick?  Rarely.  When I do, it usually is a scary thing for me.  I may be a nurse, but, like MOST nurses, I don't deal well with being sick.  I am resistant to seeking care.  So...by the time someone forces me to a doctor or an ER, I'm in trouble. 

This wasn't as dangerous as the time I had strep, fever of 104 and a very angry doctor yelling at me, an asthma patient, for not coming in sooner because my throat was dangerously swollen. 

But, 2 liters of fluid via IV later....

Anyway, I am feeling better, thinking more clearly.  The other stressors going on in my life during this week have been..addressed, and I feel relief.  I am still hurting, but the hurt is lessened, and is being replaced by understanding.  Progress.

Once again, I got lost in someone/something else, and myself took a seat at the back of the bus.  My head...was/is a mess.  I only know of two cures for that, in my world....writing, which is this, and cooking.

Cooking...is a magical thing.  It really is.  Sure, you can ignore the recipe, fly by the seat of your pants and hope it turns out to not be a disaster.   But, there is...comfort in the recipe...the steps you follow.  The measuring, the cutting, the methodical process.  Once you've been someone who cooks for awhile, you can deviate from the recipe with confidence, add your own touch.  You learn to eyeball a measurement without actually breaking out the spoons and cups. 

This is why I love cooking.  It helps me regain my focus.  I haven't really done any cooking since I moved into my apartment.  Not REAL cooking.  I will fix that next week. 

I need to establish a routine again.  Just for awhile.  I need to organize.  :)    Whatever gets you through the day, right? 

I disagree, with the quote I've used.  Time does heal....it's the distance and space it provides that is the healing factor.  Time facilitates. 

The art of "okayness"

Right now...I am not ok.  I will be, because I always am, in the end....but for the moment, I am not "OK".  I will say I am "fine".  I will say, "Don't worry about me."  I will put an incredibly convincing smile on my face for the world to see, and you will believe me. 

But....I am lying. 

I am screaming on the inside.  I am crying when I am alone.  But, I won't let anyone see that, because others can't help you heal.  No one can take your pain, and if you let them try, they only exacerbate it.  Tenfold. 

But, I will keep lying until that day when I AM "ok".  I don't know when that will be.  My own stupidity keeps leading me into situations where "not ok" becomes the norm for me.  I really should have gone into acting, because truthfully?  I'm REALLY fucking good at it.  Hey!  I guess I DO have a talent. 

My patients will comment on my "beautiful smile" and how kind, and caring I am.  And, I AM kind, and caring.  I love my job, and I am so thankful I have it.  Even when I have a patient that frustrates me to the point of going into the bathroom and letting out a string of profanities that would make a sailor blush, I usually have another patient that I can channel that anger into a little extra TLC for....

The beautiful smile part...well, I work nights, it's dark, and a lot of these people are febrile...they don't see clearly.  Nothing "beautiful" about me. 

So.  I'm not ok.  But, you don't have to worry about me.  I will be fine.

No one panic, if you bother reading this at all.  These are just words, and words are my release. 

Gratitude

“Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow.”

I have been feeling particularly blessed lately.  Thankful beyond words.  This is a new feeling for me, one I am definitely not used to experiencing on a regular basis. 

A few months ago, I couldn't imagine feeling this way.  My outlook was...bleak, to say the least.  I have always tried to look at events in my life as lessons, regardless if they were good or bad experiences, every thing is an opportunity to learn and grow.  But, that pain...I never thought anything good would come from THAT. 

While now, I can look upon it and say with certainty that I learned a valuable lesson...I never, ever want to experience that again. 

Today, 5 or so months later, I wake up in the mornings with a smile, I say a little thank you before I get out of bed.  I am home near my family again, I have a great job with amazing coworkers, I have an apartment that I am quite fond of (and will really love once I get..you know...furniture and stuff)...and I am entering into a new relationship with someone who makes me laugh daily, who makes me feel special, and I have good friends surrounding me.  My life, IS truly blessed.  I feel peaceful, and content. 

I can't wait to really get going in my new life.  I finally feel like I have the potential to do much, and nothing holding me back.  I'm no longer mired down in my worries of the day...of every day.  I limited myself so much, because I didn't feel good enough to do what I wanted to.  I still have those moments, but they're coming farther and fewer between now. 

My life is going to be an adventure, and I cannot wait. 

Want

"Never allow someone to be your priority while allowing yourself to be their option."  - Anonymous

Lately, I've had one dominant thought.  I want. 

I want to be happy.

I want to be loved.

I want to be IN love.

I want, desperately, to be the first thing on someone's mind when they wake, and the last thing on someone's mind when they fall asleep.

I want to be that one friend that is the important one...the one that you cannot wait to tell your big, or little, news to.

At various times in my life, I've been that friend.  I've been in love, I think, I hope that was love...hurts like love...

I don't think I've ever actually been LOVED.  I've definitely never been the air that someone breathes...I've never been that person that anyone could not imagine life without.  That person that is so important you would rather die than hurt them...

This is why I don't read romance novels.  They don't make me dreamy and hopeful for a love that strong.  They make me sad because I know I will never have that kind of love.  It doesn't exist for me. 

But still....a tiny part of me wants.  I am tired of being "the option" while I make others my priority.  

But, I don't know any other way to be, and I'm terribly uncomfortable with "me" time. 

Tsunami

Ride, ride this wave of mine.
There are brighter things out on the other side.
Ride, ride this wave of mine.
I know that things are going to be alright.
- Tsunami by Res

The decision has been made, and while there is peace in it, there is also a storm at the center of my being.  This is the right choice, I know, and while it's painful now, it will get better.  The tears are far from over.  This is a death.  Relationships are living, growing, breathing things, and must be tended.
 
I've never had a very green thumb.

I never actually wanted to BE married.  I did want children, more than anything, but the marriage part was never a passion for me.  I just sort of...was married one day.  And the children never came...at least not for me.  It's taken a couple of months of panic.  Of obsessive talking, repeating, rationalization...realization that things were altered irrevocably.  Pain.  No, not pain, AGONY.  This is a death, but would death be better than this?  No one person should EVER hurt this badly.  It's not worth THIS to love someone else.  To trust them...

Moments they come and then they go.
You'll feel so high and then before you know,
I could have sworn our future was set in stone
But I guess some things it's just as well for God to know

Acceptance. 

The statement.

"It's Over."

Now, I just wait on a signature.  I am moving on.  I am setting out on that journey to the bright other side.  I am scared, but I am excited.  It's different this time.  Before, I was still tethered to this place, this person.  I will not be tethered this time, and that frightens me a little.  I will REALLY be on my OWN.  The storm begins to circle, and the waves get just that much higher.
 
August 15th.  Time to ride the wave.

So now I concentrate on turning wrong to right
I am going to let go things I held inside so tight
I'm going to live and let forgive things said in spite
Clear out the smoke and usher in the light

Change

All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.
Anatole France


I have thought a lot about change, recently.  The necessity of it, for sake of sanity and survival. 

I think I've stayed stationary for too long.  No, I KNOW I have.  We moved a lot when I was a child...3 schools in 2 different states during my 4th grade year alone.  I have had the wanderlust since I was small.  It's what lead me to very rashly leave Minnesota and move to Texas in the first place.  I never dreamed that I would still be HERE 13 years later....

"We must die to one life before we can enter another."

I was happy when I was traveling as a nurse.  I lost 50lbs.  I rediscovered my sense of humor, my independence.  My best friend said it was like the real me finally came alive again.  Friends tell me that they would hate moving every 3 months.  I think it suited me perfectly. 

My last contract was awful.  I left it early, and I returned to Texas.  I returned to my old life, but it seemed different.  Better.  DH was making an effort, a real effort it seemed.  Agreeing to move somewhere other than Tyler after his graduation.  I had a job I loved, and things were going so amazingly well.  I was utterly blissed out.  I should always know better.  Every single time I feel truly happy in my life, fate or God or whatever kicks me in the face.  This kick was delivered via letter.

"We must die to one life before we can enter another." 

I killed my minnesotan life to move here and start a new life with a man I loved.  Who lied to me from the start, but my self conscious 19 year old self forgave and believed "never again."  My 19 year old self who had never been noticed by boys, so desperate for "love" that I forgave cheating immedately.  My Daddy raised me to never have to rely on anyone.  It was important to him that I be self sufficient, independent, strong.  I have failed utterly in that regard.

"We must die to one life before we can enter another."

That letter...felt like death.  It very effectively killed me that day, some part of me deep inside withered away.  My trust?  Possibly.  April 11th - letter arrives, April 15th - divorce is filed.  A week later, I'm agreeing to try and "work it out" and "accept this".  One part of me is screaming at me to run, and run fast, and the other part is speaking softly and coercively.  Sure...you can't ACTUALLY have a child...but now, there is one....

The devil is in the details, and temptation is a bitch. 

In the months of my "trying", my depression got a firm hold on me.  I haven't had a REAL problem with depression since high school.  I wanted to leave.  I didn't WANT to work this out.  I didn't WANT to accept another woman's child.  But, some part of me made me try.  Because, I didn't want to hurt HIM by leaving.  So ridiculous.  And in those months, I came face to face with the blackest part of me.  In those dark months, I actually considered taking "We must die to one life to enter another" literally. 

The thoughts were fleeting.  Transparent, like a ghost.  Obviously, I didn't do anything.  Not that I would have, not because I value MY life so much....but it would harm my father beyond repair.  I actively loathe myself.  I truly feel as if I am not worthy of anything, anyone.  I feel disgusting, and would be perfectly content for no one to see me.  I put on a shiny, happy face.  I crack jokes, and make others laugh.  I miss laughing. 

No one knew.  I really don't think anyone knew that I was so close to that edge.  No one ever approached me, reached out to me in concern.  So, I am HOPING no one knew....because the alternative, they knew and didn't care, is too painful to consider. 

But, somewhere in those dark moments, my spine returned, shining bright white in the darkness.  I told him I could NOT accept this.  I chose to leave and find my happiness, than stay and drown in my sorrow.  I am leaving, as soon as it's feasible.  I am leaving Texas (and while I have friends here, I cannot wait to see this place in my rearview).  I will travel again.  I will give in to the wanderlust and be as nomadic as my OCD self can be. 

"For what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves.." 

I am leaving the weak part behind.  Discarded like an old skin.  I will rediscover that independent person that was almost formed when I left home.  I will be happy. 

Grace

I suppose it's about time I publish another one of these things, not that anyone reads it.  ;)  In keeping with the previous theme, I've decided to contemplate Grace.  Grace comes in many forms, has many meanings, from physical grace (which I UTTERLY lack.  I fall down, frequently and without reason...), to grace and decorum in your manners and actions, to having an understanding of God's grace.  And those of you who many be reading this for the first time, no, I'm not a Bible-thumping, right wing crusader of God or anything.  But, I have my beliefs, and if you want to have an open talk sometime, let me know.  :)

That being said, Grace has meaning for me.  It's something I've thought about, had lengthy discussions on.  One particularly meaningful discussion was held with a dying patient of mine...this patient was my "one".  The one you get close to when you know you shouldn't, the one you let in and love like family, the one who is going to break your heart into a million shards when the day comes when the cancer is stronger than her will, and she conceeds defeat in THIS battle, and does so with amazing grace, on her terms, the best she can manage.  You learn the true meaning of grace, you see it in action and it floors you, the power of it.

There is such a thing as saving grace.  It's what keeps you grounded when you want to scream and deny God or whatever power/being is out there in the ether.  As a nurse, I have come to the conclusion that there IS something beyond this world.  There IS something else.  There is a force, a power....something.  Miracles happen, prayers are answered.  Sometimes, it's not exactly the miracle we wanted, the answer we were seeking, and sometimes, it takes time to see that yes....this IS the answer.  To me, the ability to have that time and that realization is a form of saving grace.  A person's "saving grace" in any given situation is never the obvious rescue.  It is the unexpected event that draws attention to a different path.

I pray.  I pray every day for my patients.  I pray for myself, to have the strength needed to be that source of support, of strength, of reason...to be whatever I am needed to be today.  Those of you who know me, really and personally, know that I'm a bit of a curmudgeon.  I'm sarcastic, mean, and snarky.  But, when I am with a patient - a fellow curmudgeon or someone in crisis, I'm a different person.  I'm not saying I'm awesome, but I do seem to have a way with calming "unruly" patients.  More times than I can count, I've received report on a patient that the previous nurse has referred to as "the devil" or "just unbearable, unreasonable".  Strangely, I rarely, if ever, have a problem with them.  Of course, to hear my mother in law tell it, it's because I am just like them and we can relate.

I, however, think it's grace working through me.  Just sayin.  Sola Gratia, people.