i won't sell myself short.

I am starting out by saying that I have so much to be grateful for-- steadfast, amazing parents who amidst their own daily struggles would bend over backward and lasso the moon for me if I needed it, the best, most steadfast loving man I could ever hope to have is mine and he is the sweetest friend I've ever had, I am living independently, there is a little bit of food in my fridge/cabinets that will get me through the week (even though for the past few days, my diet has consisted of a bagel, leftover pizza, smoothie juice and lots of h2O), uber exists, I am aliiiive.

I had about a 5 minute conversation with my boss, and I mean the boss of my boss's boss today. When he took me aside, I at first thought that I was in trouble haha, because in the full year I've worked at this place, he and I haven't exchanged much more than hellos. To my surprise, however, he wanted my opinions on how things were going at work, wanting my insight as to how things could look better, emphasizing that he wants me to further my goals and recognizing that they certainly don't stop here. I was so encouraged. He gave me some very high compliments on how I do my job and made it clear that I was crucial to how the place is supposed to run. I felt free to express myself to him in that moment, both technical details on how a shit should operate, but also my personal expectations, goals and hopes. It all made me start to wonder "am I selling myself short?" I found something my heart is 100% in and that I'm incredibly good at, but the professional tier level I'm at is basic. It's a stupi thing that I've gotten the education I have this far and have learned so much and gotten so good at a concentration that I can't get credentials for. I'm wrestling with a stalemate. I LOVE my job. But I can't teach other people to have a passion, that's what this job needs is a heart that is willing and open and desirous to serve. It's a disposition, and to be good at the job, you have to go beyond the job description on paper. Memory care is so different than typical CNA work. So, so different. I chalk it up to parenting practice, because I have learned how to be patient in the weirdest, most stressful of times, I've gotten pushed to my absolute limit. Yet, I've managed to keep my cool and be graceful. It's a GIFT. I don't want to waste it or sell myself short. I have so many desires to further my education, keep myself in this field, do so many things... And no money or open avenues to do tht yet. So for now, I'll keep excelling at what I'm good at, keep an eagle eye open, and keep being prayerful. I refuse to sell myself short.

Grace

I've been thinking about the gift of grace a lot lately.
Work takes a ton out of me, emotionally and physically. In addition to feeling exhausted all of the time, I'm preoccupied with billions of other things. Work feels like my life, but the truth is, I've been so overwhelmed with things outside of work that I don't feel like I have the time or energy to address. I want to spend more time with my dad who doesn't have a ton of structure in his days. His latest stroke was the scariest thing I've ever experienced. He is leaps and bounds ahead of where he could have been, but I want to have the time to spend days with him doing stuff before I go to work. My car is a hot mess-- the brakes are failing and my two front tires are more bald than Mr. Clean and one of them is nearly flat. I work all weekend through Wednesday, I have a doctors appointment on Monday morning to discuss results of a CT scan that I had done, I'm anxious about my car getting me from point A to B, I was going to hve my car towed to the shop this morning but the tow truck people "got busy" even though I set up a pickup ahead of time, ergo, my car is still a ticking time bomb. My friend Valerie is having a birthday party for her son who I haven't even met yet and I can't go, my future "cousin in law" has a bridal shower that I can't go to either.... The list feels so heavy. And full of negatives. I feel like none of my time is my own. I'm struggling so much to stay positive and have a servant's heart. Honestly, I'm very grateful for my job because when I'm there, I can immerse myself in the lives of my residents and commit my time to being their helper. But when I'm not within those walls, I start feeling so overwhelmed by the unaddressed things in my life that I haven't had time or don't get time to do or accomplish or experience. I'm fighting resentment and anger and restlessness and fatigue. But at the end of the day, especially when I get happy texts from a friend or hear Stephen offering to take me to work and get brake fluid for my car or my mom texting me randomly or a person I haven't seen in eons tell me that I'm beautiful inside and out and asks about my day, I realized how love I am and how valuable the gift of grace is. Grace is accepting yourself where you are, accepting your limitations and humbly being grateful for the people and situations the Lord provides you with. God knows where you are, he knows your heart and all of its desires. He will not let you down. I have to keep steadfastly believing that this is a season of life that will only make me better, stronger, more faithful and grateful for the things I have. There is a ton I need to address and accomplish, but I also have a ton of wonderful people who love me and who will be on my sidelines and beside me when the going is tough. I am not alone. I AM NOT ALONE. And that's a beautiful thing. Grace is the reason why I can love, move forward, have peace, and accept the struggle. I know this post had so many typos and was basically a giant run-on sentence, but such is my brain-flow today. I'm determined to not be defeated by my disappointments, and instead to pursue my every day in this life season with humility, grace, determination and hope. I'm casting away the spirits of guilt, shame, and self-loathing. I can't afford the infiltration. Grace is not a get out of jail free card, it is a sanctified, precious, humbly accepted, beautiful thing.u

Be free

Today, I felt like... Well, I did, fall short on personal and inttrpersonal expectations from the get-go. My insomnia kicked my butt. I cancelled plans so I could sleep, I was tardy to work, everything started out completely wrong. But I got a text from my mom (who is one of the several that I let down today) that said "Mary, don't be overly anxious about things today-- I know where your heart is. Be free. I love you."
She totally set me free. She didn't excuse me, but she didn't blame me either. She gave me the freedom to deal with what I am/was going through, and the freedom to accept the grace comes with failure. Moms are the BEST. And my mom envokes and embodies Christ. My cup overflows.

My work day was crazy. Everything went beautifully until about 6:30. My residents were fed, my dishes were cleared, all my residents were (or seemed to be) in a happy, post-dinner, I'm-full-let-me-sit-and-enjoy-my-carb-coma-nonchalance mode. Then I heard it. The unmistakeable "fall" sound. I knew a chair had been toppled over, I was just praying to God that one of my residents was not occupying said chair. Boy, was I wrong. In the literal two seconds it took for me to run the ten feet over to the source of the noise, all bets were off. I had a resident on the floor with blood pooling from his head. I was RIGHT THERE, how could I not have prevented it?! But there he was, still in his chair, but toppled sideways on the floor with drool streaming out from the corner of his mouth and trembling from the impact of the fall. I took a half look at the underside of his head that hit the floor and realized oh shit, call the EMTs. Head wounds can look exaggerated, they bleed profusely no matter the severity. But this one was the most extreme I have seen. I lifted his head to put a towel underneath, and the blood from the gash steadily streamed like the source was an open faucet tap. I do not exaggerate. So, with bath towels steadily saturating with blood, I sat with this man still crumpled in his toppled chair on the floor while I waited for some more backup so I could safely sit him and prop him up in order to apply some pressure to the bleeds. The ambulance was soooooooo quick to arrive, and with the EMTs, several firefighters as well. I felt very "triage" and professionally nursey with my gloved hands and bloodied towels and (to my slight chagrin, my own bloodied sneakers) as I informed the personnel about the incident and my resident's history. I was secretly amused at the somewhat subtle but easily recognizable surprise on the many burly and hulky emergency-men's faces when I was able to mostly lift and stand up this 6 foot tall dead weight resident of mine so they could get him on the gurney. Being a CNA builds lots of muscles, people, and you learn how to lift in sometimes seemingly impossible and weird ways. Our backs may suffer but our biceps remain!

Said resident is thriving after this incident, and I have since gotten bigger (actually smaller, yet feisty and combative) new fish to fry in terms of new admits. Im glad I'm good at my job. And I'm blessed to feel honored to do it. These are my elders and they deserve all the respect in the world for what they have and are currently experiencing.

I'm getting really good at handling dementia. Is there a specific career I can pursue straight from cna to expertise here? I have so much insight. So much advice. So much love and understanding for this population.

Who knows. I am blessed and honored to do what I do.