I. AM. BACK.

Hello from the depths of my extremely comfy sofa! It is January 11th 2021 and the world has not exploded yet, at least not literally. What a damn year we've lived, and honestly I feel like the struggle to stay ourselves and stay faithful to God and to our friends and not stray from everything important and holy and sacred is at a crucial point. There is SO much divide, so many voices in our ears telling us what they want us to hear, so many new things to fear. But hear this: BE STEADFAST. 

Be persistent in prayer, and keep alert as you pray, giving thanks to God.

Be persistent in prayer, yall. These are the break out the rosary times, the get on your knees times, the help the old lady across the street times. The go to church when you don't feel like it times, the pray your way to sleep, go out of your way to be kind, sing Jesus songs in praise times, the never lose hope in the goodness and grace of God times. Because what else can we do? What else do we have control over except how we can effect the people surrounding us? Make constant, deliberate, minute-to-minute choices to be the best version of yourself. It will probably make a bigger difference than you could ever imagine. These things tend to have a ripple effect.

In other news, hi! I'm back! Took me long enough. I haven't written in goodness knows how long, so bear with me as I re-acclimate to dumping my thoughts here in the little blog that could.

I won't bore you with the last year or two of my life happenings, except for saying that I've gained more nieces and being an aunt is the best thing on the planet. I'm a Godmother now! It is glorious and I am so in love.

I am in the process of doing a 1,000 piece puzzle that my brother-in-law got me for Christmas. Usually, I can do these babies in one sitting, but this one has me burning the midnight oil on day 3. See below...

 Not for the faint of heart, and most of it is ocean. But I shall conquer.

I don't have much brain juice tonight, but I promised myself that I would slap something on here to kickstart my new resolution-- at least 1 post a week for my sanity and re-ignition of my love for writing! So, dear reader, whoever you are (I may be addressing absolutely no one), gear up! 2021 has just begun, and so has my new lease on life and my renewed sense of loving life where I am. It's bound to be a fun, random, chaotic ride, but let's do this.

Trying to find my voice

Life lately has felt... hard. I continuously wrestle with these nagging feelings of discontent, the sense that I am not living up to my own standards. It's a nasty feeling, a constant, lingering bad taste in my mouth feeling. I love my job, although I can't do it forever-- I make very little money, but I found something that I'm truly great at doing. It's passion vs. priority. Can this job sustain and fulfill me? No. Unfortunately. Is it something that will always be there for me if I chose to go down a different path? Yes.

I struggle with being a multi-potentialite. If this phrase baffles you, I highly recommend watching this  TED talk. It's pretty wonderful. Basically, I have so many interests and would be so good at so many things, I have absolutely not been able to put myself in a box. I'd probably be better fit for a trapezoid or a rhombus.... or a freaking dodecahedron. Slap on a pretty raging case of adult ADHD, mild depression, and whimsy and you get me; I am a walking, beautiful disaster of ideas and inaction. Why do I feel paralyzed when I have soooooo much to offer? All my friends are doing great things, growing successful in their jobs, getting married, having babies, DOING their lives, and here I sit in my jammies at 1:45pm, procrastinating taking a shower before I go into my 3pm-11:30pm job, feeling like a failure. Why am I depressed? Why does it feel SO hard for me to DO things? I know I'd be happier if I somehow found the giddy-up to do some yoga or wake up early and take a walk, prioritize my prayer life instead of last minute "car-prayers," aka two minutes before pulling into work rattling off what I'm grateful for and asking that the Lord bless my day and the ones I interact with, that what I do during my day be for His glory, and speeding through an Our Father, some Hail Marys and daily offering prayers. And then always the Saint Michael prayer.

I should sit down and make time to actually BE with my prayer times every day.

I feel like I have an open mind and heart, that I have a willingness for change and growth in my life, but every time I explore my options, I run into a brick wall of dismay and disappointment. I feel like a car that's always gunning on fumes. I'll jet forward with a good amount of acceleration, only to start sputtering and stalling and breaking down before I even get started with my journey. Why? Is it because I lack initiative? Have I really been that weak that I've let other people or situations influence my decisions so much that now I have no voice? Am i simply afraid to be bold? Am I that terrified of what people think? Im I scared of rejection or being lonely?

I already feel very lonely in a lot of areas in my life. It cripples my will sometimes. I'm pretty good at setting my own traps. I wear my heart on my sleeve and let my mouth run when I'm feeling things and maybe I shouldn't. Maybe I'll save those rants for the pages of a journal or my keyboard.
I think I've created in the minds of my loved ones a general feeling of weariness. I am a broken record, I take the easy way out, I give up on challenges for more comfortable things. I settle.
These thoughts make me want to scream, to yell so loudly, yet my voice has a tired audience.
I haven't been my own agent, I have not made strong decisions, or maybe when I have, it hasn't appeared that I've been able to stick to my guns.
I hate disappointing people. I hate feeling weak. I hate that they can't understand the intensity of the burning I feel, the explosion of gumption and wonder and freedom and beauty and conviction that is a constant eruption just under the surface of my skin, buried just deep enough that it can't nudge its way past the front I assume when I humble myself to circumstance.


This is to be continued, I actually do need to go shower before work. But I promised myself I would try to write more. So this snippet is a start, I suppose.

God bless my day, and yours.

Walk the talk

It's 3:07am and I have laundry in the dryer and I have a car that is in desperate need of repair and a wart on my finger currently saturated in compound w and it hurts like a bitch and my floor in my room needs to be swept and I had a crazy evening at work and I'm breathless for MORE. Not more chaos, not more unrest, not more insecurity, not more life junk in my metaphorical life trunk. I am so on fire and hungry for more of what makes me ME. One tiny piece of that is writing, and I apologize to myself (because I know damn well that no one is reading this) for falling abysmally short in this regard. Fact is, I have skimped on so many things that make me and cultivate my existence. I'm literally living paycheck to paycheck, but I've lately realized that Ive let that reality become my personal MENTALITY. Like I, myself, my needs and goals also have started to adhere to this crazy business of "staying afloat." Well, crazy notion that has begun to gnaw away at my soul, I damn you to where you belong which is under my slightly sore feet. I am so determined, more than ever, to be, to live who I am regardless of outside circumstance or physical obstacle. My heart is just bursting and I've been quenching the fire for way too long. I'm ready, I'm actually ready to take on life without being afraid of what people think of me. I'm afraid of the undertaking, absolutely, but what the hell doin have to lose? More to come, I promise. Gah, I'm stoked for the future. So much is in my control when I let myself sit behind the steering wheel. Mentality shift-- all systems are go!

Courage, Dear Heart.

It's 4:42 and I can't help it,
I don't know what to do when I am so 
foolishly, wonderfully, selfishly wrapped up in
you.
I called it off and I am having trouble justifying why,
I want to cancel out my reasons to make this equation
an easy solve.
Truth is, I am so in love it hurts and he 
he still has my whole heart,
this irony is still my epiphany, yet it makes it
impossible to breathe.
Why erase the only thing that kept me breathing in the first place?

I battle with the why's, I can feel his sorrow,
I hear it in my ears like a bad song on a loop,
I feel his pain as mine refuses to wane.

Still, I have to be brave if this is for the best,
I cannot bear the moments in between my unrest
when I let myself think of the absence of him.

I know he waits. I know I do.

But treating the symptoms never cured the disease, 
there are things we have to do that neither 
one nor the other can appease.

it must be mutually exclusive.

There's a dark poetry in this pain
because amidst the blackness, this total abyss,
we both have much to gain.

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.

Patience with Patients.

I told y'all I'd be back to haunt your inter web space.

So, I'll catch you up a bit.

Working in memory care is a constant challenge-reward vortex. I am absolutely people-and-emotion-and-physically-exhausted at the end of every work day, yet when I get a day off, I find myself wanting to pop into work to see my residents and make sure everything is going smoothly. (Plus I secretly enjoy coming into work wearing what I like to call "people clothes," aka non-scrubs. I recently was at the grocery store and recognized one of my nurses in the same aisle as I was... I debated whether or not to blurt the first hello, but it entertained me that a few glances were exchanged between us with no apparent recognition on his side. I opted to keep the amusement of my anonymous existence outside of my scrubs to myself.)

Today, I walked into work, and one of my residents ( and yea ok, we are never supposed to have favorites, but this little number and I had a golden connection from day one) who I am convinced, despite her inability to express herself in a lucid manner most of the time (she is almost CONSTANT chatter, it's amazing, she is the energizer bunny of mostly gibberish conversation) knows my face and responds to my way of caring for her beautifully, saw me and said clear as day, "OH! hey you you you! Hi! Oh you, I like you!" Couple this with the sweetest, almost childlike, clingy hug from her, and I was butter. This is the same woman who most people had given up trying to toilet or shower because she retaliated so physically aggressively, but for some reason, I hit home with her. For months, I was the only one who could get her in the shower, much less onto the toilet without her beating me up. ( I will admit, I have had proof of her feistiness in the form of scratches and admittedly ugly bruises, but at the end of the day, and after almost a year, she knows my face, and she knows my voice, and she trusts me) She seeks me out for hugs and in her gibberish tells me all the things she is thinking and I sit with her at the piano, and somehow, some way the former pianist in her emerges, and I am sometimes fortunate enough to hear her play something almost flawless, always beautiful. This, folks, is why I can show up to work every day and not be mad about it. I am so, absolutely, totally in love with my sweet residents. They all still have a mind, and in my opinion, it just doesn't cooperate with them sometimes. This may sound naiive, but when you catch the lucid moments from the people you are CONVINCED can't make any sense of things, you are humbled and really realize that you're caring for your elders, adults, people who absolutely still expect to be treated with dignity and kindness and respect. It kills me when I hear people talking about my residents right in front of them. Like they can't process. I thin they can hear and process way more than they can output or express. Just an opinion. But I try to talk to all of my residents (even though in my heart, they are all my babies) just as they are-- my elders, accomplished people, and fellow conversationalists. Even if a resident has silly, gibberish speech, or is slow to respond or doesn't make sense, I talk to them like I would to my boyfriend, my mother, my dad, my friend. They deserve normal speech, after all, they have like 50,60,70 years of life experience on my ass. I respect that shit.

There was a day a few weeks ago when I had to send one of my coworkers with my debit card to walmart to grab me a new pair of scrub pants because mine had just been splattered to the knees with someone's poop. I have photographic proof, but no one would appreciate that.

I have a deep, healing, yet purple bruise on my left upper arm from a tiny 89 year old lady who pinched me so hard that my eyes watered. when I finally had her in bed, she thanked me and apologized if "she said anything offensive." Close enough. Remind me to trim her nails.

I have a resident that, maybe 30 years ago, was a registered nurse. Sometimes the only way I can get her to settle into her room for the night is by telling her that it's the hospital on-call room, and that she's had a long shift and that I made sure she has somewhere to rest. She is so grateful that I made the on-call room up so nicely for her, and I sure her that someone will make sure to wake her up for rounds in the morning.

Have I mentioned that it's three in the morning and I have insomnia? Oh shoot, it's almost 4. I have to stop and pick this up later. Until then, here's to another post on the little blog that could.

New Beginnings (part one?)

I hereby interrupt this posting lull with breaking news! I am back and determined to keep this little-blog-that-could alive.

I don't know where I left you, but I haven't the focus to zero-in on the wheres and whens, so I'm probably gonna skip a few chapters of my life since I last posted. I will, however, give you a certified and abridged synopsis of my goings-on since I finished my latest semester of Nursing school in May.

Here goes.

Being back in Virginia from January-May was a complete whirlwind of surreality. School felt odd, and I felt old jumping back into the mix. I was surrounded by wide eyed, energetic true sophomores who whispered about their fake IDs and clubbing stories during Microbiology lab. Having taken a 3.5 year break, I felt a huge maturity rift between most of my classmates and myself. It both helped and hurt me. Commuting was a blessing and a curse-- blessing because I operated on my own terms and could come and go as I pleased, curse because I had less time truly "being" on campus and cultivating working relationships with classmates... study buddies are extra helpful in nursing school, and I had few. I was lonely, yet determined. In sum, I did really well in all of my classes. I ended up having to make up a clinical at the end of the term because I missed the first one [because my chicken pox titer (fancy word for making sure I've already had the virus) wasn't back from the lab yet. So, so lame.]. Due to unforeseen stomach trouble resulting in my inability to leave the house, I was an hour late to my clinical make-up, resulting in my automatic failure for the course, clinical and lecture. I appealed, contended, did everything I could, but it was futile. I got an F on my transcript because of a rebellious GI tract, folks! in short, failing that course essentially set me back a full year in the program because it's only offered in the spring. I was disheartened and disbelieved, but there it is. It sucked. It still kinda sucks. I can't help but wonder what life would be like if I had just stayed at school before I left the first time, stuck it out for the full four years and graduated on time. Then I stop myself and realize I wouldn't wish that for the world because so much LIFE and learning and skills have been learned because I left initially, and the fact that I received that F may have been just another weird blessing in disguise. I am so happy that I am not at school in Virginia right now.

I moved back to good old South Bend in May. I went with my boyfriend Stephen to his brother's wedding in Bloomington and it was one of the best weekends I have ever had.

Oh, yeah, Stephen is here. and it's the best. he is a constant reminder that God is in it for me to win at life. Cause Stephen is a total winner. (enter all the extra mushy lovey dovey emotional stuff.)

I resumed my job in home care and met some of the most wise and amazing old people and got to take care of them. They encouraged me, shared their lives and their families with me, told me I was going to do great things, and left a lasting effect on me. Two of them passed, leaving me not knowing how to deal with the loss. I work in healthcare, I deal with loss all the time. People die, it's the finish line of natural progression. But something stops me every time and my breath catches-- each loss feels new. There has never been one person I am less sad or heartbroken about being gone than another. Each one feels new and exactly as difficult. I realize it is because I spend my heart on the people I care for. I actually cannot help it. I am wired this way. For a time, I was tormented by these losses, inconsolable, actually. I felt like I was in a tunnel that had no end. I continually spent my emotions and heart and mind and physical energy on people that just end up dying. Why is it worth my time?? Why is it worth the grief I go through, or giving so much of myself to someone who may very well not even recognize me the next day? Why do I put myself through this?! Then I got some words of wisdom. Some of them from Stephen, bless his heart, and some through prayer-- It makes a difference. I make a difference. A specific difference in specific lives, all the time, throughout my day every day. I once told someone that I'm a CNA (certified nurse's assistant) and they replied with, "Oh, so you're basically wiping ass for a living... like a professional ass-wiper!" I don't recall how I responded at the time, probably something insecure/masked with sarcastic whatevers, but in retrospect, I want to go back and correct that person and set them straight. Yes, I spend a lot of my day helping old people go potty. Yep, that includes wiping them. It also includes dressing and undressing them, bathing them, changing their sheets, doing their laundry, feeding them, tracking every time they urinate or have a bowel movement, doing their skin assessments, being kicked, slapped, pinched, cussed-out, and unappreciated by the people who can't make heads or tails of why someone has to do these things for them. But the thing is, after being slapped around (old people are STRONG, by the way, mark my words) and cussed-out and screamed at while trying to help "Jane" get her jammies on and go potty, once she's tucked in bed, she says thank you and she loves me.

So maybe thats a natural progression for me to say that I now work full time at a memory care assisted living facility!

Most every resident living there has some form of dementia. There are few exceptions. This makes for one heck of a work day! Dementia is sneaky and presents itself differently in each person via personality changes and habits. Sometimes it reveals itself in nervous ticks or repetitive questions. Sometimes it makes people consistently worried/concerned. Sometimes maternal instincts tighten and you've got 90 yr old "Jane" carrying around baby dolls because those are "her babies" and they can't be left alone in her room. Those are her actual babies. Sometimes complacency sets in, and as a caregiver, you have to figure out clever ways to communicate to a brick wall of response. You start to develop clever ways of cuing someone to stand up, walk, sit down, reach out their hand, etc. I never would have thought I could have spent 20 minutes trying to explain to someone/convince/desperately ask someone to sit down on a potty before. Oh but i have, and i do. 40 hours a week. My favorites are the ones who basically regress to childhood. They may be speaking gibberish ( and some do), but you pick up enough to know that they had bad childhood experiences and their negative reactions are prompted by certain things. You start to learn their patterns. One lady counts when she starts getting upset. Ive heard her get all the way up to 97, then she went to 11 and started back at 1. You have the 100 year old who was a medical professional and you just can't help but admire the hell out of him, even though he can't remember what he practiced. You have the 90 year old lady who was a nurse and can kinda talk about it when you prompt her but when she gets off topic, she cannot let go of the fact that "someone has been in her room and all of her things are stolen." Not one of these people are the same. Each one with different behaviors, each one affected by the same disease, if thats what you call dementia. The fact of the matter is, I get to take time to learn about the person who lives in the dementia riddled body. I have every reason to believe that they know exactly who they are, their bodies just cannot cooperate with them. It's heartbreaking, tough work. But the times when you catch someone in a lucid moment and they tell you that you're beautiful, ask you if you are married and  have kids, if not they'll pray one day you will, tell you stories of their lives and childhood, impart knowledge or advice, confide in you about hardships, but most of all, when at the end of a hard day, when I feel beaten up, exhausted, sad, I hear the words "thank you" from someone whose bottom I wiped and whom I clothed in jammies and tucked into bed.

It's getting far too late and I haven't written this much in eons. for now, I guess this was part 1. God bless you if you read or followed even half of this post. I always warn you, this is my brain vomit.

Anyways, Im grateful for another day of being able to give and be given to. Nighty night.

Rants and Raves, My Pity Party Alternative

It's so hard to maintain an equilibrium, isn't it? Especially for people [like me, and probably you] who have demanding work or school schedules, so much expected of you, and in turn you expect so much from yourself. And then emotions and personal relationships enter the crazy fray and there are moments when you stop and realize that you feel caught; this crazy web of expectations, the personal urge to be your best self, the duty of friendship to other people, being accountable for your actions, and being responsible for curtailing rash reactions to adversity…. it all suddenly comes to a head and if you've thought you've been overwhelmed before, you laugh to yourself because you've finally realized how hard it is to be an adult.

I am struggling. I have so much on my mind, so many things I want to shout out loud, so many things I want to be able to fix, so many people I want to talk to face to face, I want that one shoulder to cry on and that face to look at and the comfort of being in the presence of someone who gets it. I want to scream and laugh and argue and sob and dance, all of these things out loud, but circumstance and geography hold me back and hinder me so unfairly to be able to do these things how I want, with the people I want. I could punch so many things, I could drink myself numb, but nothing will outweigh or deafen the blaring fact that I am solely responsible for the wellness of my heart. I cannot run, nor can I hide from anything that is happening. I would be foolish, oh, and I have been, more times than I care to count, to think that I can stifle and silence my struggles. I have learned fairly recently that facing and addressing hardship, head on and boldly and soberly, is actually the easy way out. It is so much more painful and grievous and poisonous to allow your problems or concerns or sadnesses or angers fester to the point of self destruction. I could be a spokesperson on "keeping it all in," and I'll cut to the chase when I say that it's not worth it and it doesn't work. You hurt yourself and the people around you, and you magnify your pain.
I realize I've gone on a professional tangent.
Bottom line is, I am currently face-deep in crazy school assignments and exams and papers and meetings and relationship struggles and feeling isolated and written-off. I am struggling immensely with finding my equilibrium. Everything that pertains to us is personal. My relationships are personal, my schoolwork performance is personal. How then to prioritize how to feel? Emotions abound. Schoolwork has expressed a vengeance that I have never known, yet personal relationships that have a grip on my heart are constantly in the back or forefront of my brain and I seem to be unable to isolate my attention.
Hi, I'm Mary, and I'm a puddle of anxiety, stress, glimmers of hope, and exhaustion.

I need to be able to focus. On studies, on relationships, on self-love, all separately yet simultaneously. I love a good challenge, but today this feels like an impossible feat.

I'll end by saying that I know God is good and he wants to give me the desires of my heart. The only way that I'll be able to forge ahead is by trusting God with my body and soul and heart that he provides and he is good, and he will not let anything come my way that I can't handle.

I'll offer up my anxiety and confusion and feelings of defeat for the gazillions of people in the world that have way more to worry about than I do.

Shoot some prayers or good vibes my way as I embark on another arduous week of nursing school bedlam.

Is it a snow day tomorrow, or is this just my insomnia?

Yes, yes yes!!! I have a snow day tomorrow! Oh, bless you, wimpy Northern Virginia and your fear of 5"snowfall forecasts. The Indiana girl in me want to scoff and chuckle at how silly it is to cancel university classes for an entire day because of a "daunting" forecast, but since five inches of snow and 15 degree lows are record-breaking here in the DC metro area, who am I to complain? I have a ten page microbiology research paper due on Friday that I have yet to give my undivided attention. What better way to spend a snow day than to be in my jammies drinking way too much coffee and writing a report on antibiotic resistant bacteria? If you think of one, let me know. [Okay, yes, I can think of an abundance of brilliant alternatives, but school-duty calls].

Two more days until Spring Break! My destination: colder-than-here, Indiana. Home, home, home! Home to my parents and hilarious little [but way taller than me] brothers and Stephen (favorite person, #1, boyfriend, best pal) and open spaces and CORNFIELDS sprinkled with snow [more likely they will be wilted and soggy-brown] and my old room and my house that is always freezing because my dad believes in layering as opposed to big heating bills! I can hardly wait. I am a large research paper, a 3 hour Nursing lab, one micro lecture and a ten hour drive away from where my heart is.

For now, I should try and get this sleep-starved body to sleep so that I can write my paper tomorrow and then be as lazy as I can for the rest of the day.

GAH can't wait for home. Love and hugs and lack of traffic! (I should stitch that on a pillow, damn the DC traffic and its evil ways.)

10-4!

Nursing Student Woes: the first of many rants and stories about being in nursing school

Aside from the initial eye-squinty cringe that overtook my face due to the bad color scheme I've got going on here as I opened the page to revisit neglected blog, I also realized how truly neglected it is! For someone who truly loves to write their thought-vomit down as a form of self-medicating, I am going to make another attempt to update frequently.

Nursing school is rumbling along, with every stressful and hilarious circumstance that accompanies the nature of the beast. Seriously, are we all crazy to be doing this?! I'm convinced that I am either a complete moron, clearly the most clueless student in the world, or this stuff is actually really freaking hard to learn.

I hope it's the latter, because I'm paying good money to not understand half of what my microbiology professor is lecturing so nonchalantly about.

So, I had some adventure-y happenings last week, albeit stress-crying was briefly involved, things worked out, like they always do.

[Back story: I went to this university for nursing in 2010- halfway through the 2011-2012 semester. Leaving halfway through your sophomore year is not something I recommend for anyone, but if you're a nursing student, I hope you get as lucky as I did to have somehow magically been able to start right where I left off, 3 years later. So, there you have it, my 23 year old self, more gray from three years of working in restaurants and as a CNA (Lord, I could write a book about being one, best thing Ive ever done), is back in the saddle as a super-sophomore nursing student, hell bent on getting that BSN.]

So, that should kind of get you up to speed. If you're reading this and if you're a nursing student, or have been one, you probably know that in order to start clinicals, you basically have to scrounge up and sign away your entire life's health history to the school/institution, in addition to paying way too much for background checks and drug tests that you don't need. (I mean, seriously, can't you pleeeeeeease trust me when I say that I have never committed a felony, I am not a pedophile, and I don't snort anything, shoot anything up, nor will I pilfer any medical weed from my cancer patients?! The lack of trust, I tell ya…) Needless to say, I did not have all of my life's health history documentation at the ready, nor did i have a magical Mary Poppins bag from which to retrieve it. Alas, I had to spend about 72 hours collectively on the phone with a vast amount of people in Indiana (home state, represent) in order to track down my immunization records, flu shot records, physical forms, etc. so that I could get them faxed to me. Then I had to pay and arm and a little bit of my soul to get a renewed CPR certification, a physical (walk-in clinics be damned! I walked out a broke soul, I did), and a lithe more here and there and everywhere. (I should say that this is all pretty much happening on the wednesday and thursday before my first friday clinical…) The kicker was that with the exception of one tiny detail, I had everything set and ready to go to clinical. I was so exhausted and proud of myself for actually getting all my shit together, and wouldn't you know it, I get an email saying I couldn't go the next morning because I didn't have a chicken pox vaccination. [IVE ALREADY HAD CHICKEN POX OMG]. So that was a little bit distressing. I cried a little bit, then turned to my friend Cabernet Savignon who always seems to be able to make it better.
Moral of the story-- make sure that if you're coming in in the middle of a school year, that you find out about any crucial paperwork you need to have in order to actually do the schooling you're paying for. I got lucky and the first clinical was orientation and i didn't miss anything. There's also a make up day, praise Jesus. However, too close of a call for me. CabSav won't always be able to come to the rescue! Keep your ear to the ground, people.

Aside from the occasional snafu (totally my bad, by the way, I take full responsibility for not being on my game), nursing school is truly exciting. I'm starting to see the light at the end of this grievously long tunnel I've driven myself into, and I'm so excited for the future!

Also, to all the CNAs out there who are studying nursing, how GREAT will our geriatric rotation be?! Look out, world, I am no stranger to the smell of C-Diff! When it comes to dealing with poop, all of the poop, we are masters, all of us.

Wednesday, schmendsday

Oh, goodness, I've neglected you again, little blog. That's okay, I'm certain no one reads you, unfortunately.

Well, it's a glum looking day outside, very grey and droopy. I made myself get up early today and start my day off with a good prayer time. I don't have class until 3:30 today, so I had little motivation to roll out of bed at 8am, but I am very glad that I did! I'm trying to develop new grown up habits, starting with a morning ritual. I just think that any given day will go better if I have a set routine. Soooo, hooray for day number one!

I straightened my hair today just because I could. I keep forgetting how short it is! I miss my long hair sometimes. But, I won't dwell on vanity today! Today's for giving.

What do you want to accomplish today? If you were at your best right now, what would you be doing? What makes you tick?

I'm offering up my day to the Lord. I want him in my thoughts and conversations and choices, in the classroom and in my car when I drive. Ill choose to not to be wistful on this gloomy Wednesday, and instead I'll make some homemade sunshine.

Here's to a rockin' day! Pay it forward, smile, be bold and love well.

Commuter Chronicles: Day 3

I found a deliciously close parking spot today! Somehow it just made this otherwise quite and cloudy day a happy and light one.

So this past Monday, I showed up for my Clinical Nutrition course, and with the exception of one other student, no one showed up, not even the professor. I've been spending my day trying to figure out what the heck is going on… because there's no way on God's green earth that I am paying for a class that seemingly does not exist. Twas very curious, it was. Let's cross our fingers and toes that this gets resolved!

I spent 90 dollars in the bookstore today. Damn the textbooks that are custom-written for specific courses! My wallet is hungry.

There is little to say about today. As I said, it's a bit gloomy outside. There was a powdered-sugar dusting of snow on the ground this morning, which from my understanding thwarted the masses that commute in the DC Metro area, and the traffic was a chaotic mess. Glad I missed that. These east coast weather-wimps. It makes me chuckle. I drove to campus around noontime (my class doesn't start until 3:30 today, fuel for the procrastinator in me), and listened to my audiobook on the way. It's actually not a bad commute. I tend to not take the 66 bypass because the traffic and unruly drivers can be obnoxious. Instead I opt for taking Lee Hwy all the way to Glebe (where my little school resides). The drive takes about 20-24 minutes, and aside from the many stoplights, the drive doesn't bother me one bit. It gives me just the right amount of time to say my prayers for the day and collect myself to gear up for the day.

You know that feeling you get when you get drawn into yourself maybe a millimeter deeper than usual, and you become daydreamy and nostalgic? You don't get sad, you get wistful. The most pleasant, self-indulgent kind of melancholy that tends to stick with you for the rest of the day. It's a selfish kind of forlorn; you reminisce about people and places, you tend to stare off with a dreamy look in your eye, then realize you look like an airhead, then make yourself turn from airhead to lunatic when you laugh audibly at yourself for spacing out. Every once in a while, though, I let myself indulge in the melancholy, for because just as loneliness threatens to interfere with the solace, hope jumps in to give your sentiments a glowy hue of promise.

Well, that's my rant for the day. I'm gonna go find a ladies room, smoke a cigarette (two separate endeavors, mind you), and go to class. Tally hoe! (where on earth does that expression come from?)

Happy Wednesday.

Commuter Chronicles: Day 2 (and day one cont.)

Soooo, day one went swimmingly. My Fundamentals class was the typical first-day business-- going over the syllabus, asking a billion questions, etc. I like my professor, though, I'm excited about the course. All of the clinical stuff we'll be doing this semester is pretty much exactly what I had to learn to be a CNA, so I'm ready to knock it outta the park.

Back to what I was saying about having a renewed freedom and peace in life.

I embraced and discovered the true, pure, weightless freedom and peace that comes when you bare your soul to the Father. Coupled with a really excellent confession right before Christmas, and an abundance of prayer, the Lord has been so generous in providing for me. It rings true that when you offer up your worries, hopes, sorrows, dreams and struggles to the Lord, he absolutely provides for you. Psalm 37:3-4 says,
"Trust in the LORD, and do good; dwell in the land and befriend faithfulness. Delight yourself in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart."
This passage speaks truly to what the Lord desires of us; to delight in him by giving our whole self over to the power of his clemency and power, and in turn, he delights in us and gives us the desires of our hearts. After I threw everything I had been going through and struggling with at His feet, the Lord was so amazingly quick to act, in ways I cannot even begin to describe. He opened so many doors that I thought I had permanently sealed shut because of my actions and choices. I gave him my darkness, and he dissolved it and replaced it with blinding, beautiful light. I am 600 miles away from home, from my amazing parents, my wonderful boyfriend, and yet I have never felt more close and secured to the people I love. God's mercy and love is pouring out from every corner of my little world, and I refuse to take Him for granted. I am striving to give every day to him, every conversation I have and every choice that I make, I want Him to be in every one. There is no happiness without the Father, nor can there be love. Because God IS love, personified in his son Jesus, and through the works of the Holy Spirit, he is ACTIVE, alive in this world, and to pretend that we can ignore it is foolish. I will foolishly love the Lord, and trust in him with everything. He is my captain and my companion, how blessed I am to have a friendship with Him. AAAAAAMEN!

Today I have two classes, Microbiology (yiiiikes, I'm scared for this one), and my Microbio Lab. I hope I have a good professor, they can make or break any given course. I have so much to do!!! I haven't bought any of my books yet, I need to figure out my uniform for clinicals (back in scrubs again, hooray!), I need to get CPR certified (I have no idea how I've made it this long without having done that…), and tons of other little nitpicky things that are annoying yet essential.

I'm ready to give my day to God and conquer my schoolwork and have good conversations and be productive!!! (If I succeed, I will high five myself.)

I hope everyone is having a happy happy Tuesday. If this is not the case, think of ten things in ordinary life that you are grateful for. Here, I'll do it to.

1. pillows
2. sunshine on front steps
3. H2O
4. parking spaces, no matter how far I have to walk
5. sunglasses
6. clean laundry
7. gazebos
8. nice security men
9. words
10. sharpies

There you go! It'll put you in a good mood if you think of ten things, I promise.
Until tomorrow!

MC

The Commuter Chronicles: Day 1

Goooooood morning!

Today is my first day of classes back at Marymount after a 3 year sabbatical, during which I worked as a CNA and learned a lot about life, love, the peaks and valleys of hardship, mistakes and how my decisions affect the ones around me. It was a tumultuous journey, very messy at times, but not completely void of happiness. The past three years have been essential to my growth as a person, a daughter and as a friend. Frankly, for most of this time, I failed to be a trustworthy person to the people who love me the most. I made choices that tore down and damaged relationships, and in turn, I lost a lot of integrity and self-respect. I had been following a path that darkened my life and clouded my judgment, but by the grace of God, I am finally facing the sunlight.
Although I hate the person I was, I love the person I am becoming. Never have I felt such peace in my life. This has everything to do with letting go of the control that I thought I had over everything in my life and giving the reins completely over to the Lord. The illusion, the lie I was living; telling myself over and over that I was in control, when all the while I let myself be slave to circumstance and foolish whims. I had no control, I lived minute by minute, grasping at fleeting moments that seduced me with their guise of fulfillment, only to immediately be thrown on my face and be consumed with regret after I let myself be lured. The emptiness of how I lived makes me sick at heart. I was the Enemy's favorite playground. I gave him every opportunity to be my puppeteer. Only after stepping back and realizing with disgust at the grotesque way I was living, did I finally relinquish everything to God. The result is a freedom that I can only express as dazzling.

Confession, prayer, honesty, and willingness to heed wise advice have quite literally saved me. The Lord has acted so fully and immediately in every facet of my life, and there are no words to express my gratitude. I am the happiest, lightest, most Mary I have ever felt. My cup overflows with lust for life, for God, for true friendships and love. My heart is so open, it bleeds and gushes a waterfall of happiness. How blessed am I.

To be continued, I am going to run outside and smoke a cigarette before I try to learn some Nursing Fundamentals.

I lost my electricity, so I ramble about old people

Oh to be without electricity. Mother nature seems to be reluctant to hand over fall to winter, as severe tornado weather has just eaten up a good bit of the upper midwest. Thank goodness my family's home was free of damage, in a neighborhood full of felled trees and split power lines. No power seems like a pretty fair situation given the surrounding circumstances. I am currently sitting in a Martin's Deli using their internet and sipping on a giant Peach Snapple. I guess I have no complaints.

I have to leave for work soon... oh work. It's gonna be a brutal Monday, I think. Considering that there was a full moon last night, I have a sneaking suspicion that I will arrive at work with the news that one of my residents died, or people will simply be acting wacky. The whole "must be a full moon" thing when life seems funky is actually no joke. It coincides every time. Weird, huh? But true.

Life is a twisty whirlwind these days as work has picked up and life continues to barrel ahead clumsily, but at least it's covering some ground. I work at a wonderful nursing home in Elkhart, IN. I say "wonderful" because not only are the people I work with excellent, but the facility itself is just nice. It doesn't have that quintessential "nursing home smell." Instead of feeling stark with a faux-sterile smelling atmosphere, it's warm. The colors, the smells, the people, the vibe. I'm so grateful.

Working with old people was never something I expected to do. Frankly, old people always scared me, made me feel wildly uncomfortable and sheepish. But, for some reason, I find myself surrounded by them, filled with an unconditional desire to care for them, comfort them, and love them. It's got to be God, that's all I have to say. Most of my residents are over 90 years old, and then a lot of them are over 100. Isn't that incredible?? One of my favorite residents (shh, don't tell) is 104. She is adorable, never stops talking, and kisses me on the cheek. You'll find so many kinds of personalities in old people. There are the ones who have, for lack of a better phrase, "made friends" with their situation-- being completely dependent on other people to get through daily life activities. The ones who accept their care with (what has GOT to be a huge amount of humility) and graciousness. Then, there are the ones who just don't want to be there. The ones whose eyes have lost a luster for life, the lightless ones. These people will either vocalize their frustration with living and make it known that they just want to die, or, in many cases, they just won't say anything. The ones who stay silent are the ones that break my heart the most. Albeit, it's all heartbreaking. In a very short time, I've lost my heart to these people. The sad ones, the silly ones, the mournful and the peaceful. They all have his or her own cross that I imagine is nearly impossible to bear. Most of us can share our burdens, whether through conversation or physical interaction with our peers. Imagine being able to do neither, to be trapped in a body that doesn't work, yet having a mind that is alive and more or less perfect. They have a special kind of suffering. I think they are one of the Devil's favorite playgrounds. There are certainly a lot of cracks where the Enemy's poisons of deception and despair can easily seep. I pray for these people almost constantly. Everyone should.

Well, time is getting away from me, I need to pack up and head to work.
Here's to everyone having a Monday that makes you think. Challenge for today: Don't complain about anything. There are too many people who have troubles that I cannot even begin to know how to empathize. I am alive, healthy, free, happy, blessed, and loved. Oh how much I have.

Until we meet again, little neglected blog.

Gratefuls

A: Audiobooks
B: Bridget Feeks
C: Cousins
D: Determination
E: Employment!!!
F: Finishing clinicals
G: Generosity
H: Health
I: Intelligent conversation
J: Jokes
K: Kicks. The kind you wear on your feet.
L: Love, everywhere.
M: Mercy
N: Naked Juice
O: Occasions to sing for no reason.
P: Parents and their wisdom
Q: Q....uidditch
R: Rest
S: Scrubs
T: Teachers
U: Understanding
V: Victory
W: Winning at life
X: marks the spot
Y: Youth and its opportunities
Z: Zoom

26 Grateful-fors

Hello, sunny Tuesday. You're lovely, nonchalant and whimsical. It's one of those days that the sun has a mirror effect on the trees, all shiny and dazzling. I'd like it to be September always.

Quick life update: I will be starting a 3 week CNA [Certified Nursing Assistant] training program this coming Monday. The gist of it is this: One week of classes, two weeks of clinicals. After those 3 weeks, I will take a state-certified exam in two portions, and if I pass, I'm certified! Ta-da! I'm pretty excited to start this chapter of my life. What's funny is that I feel like I've been waiting forever to get my foot in the nursing door, and ultimately made this simple choice to be a CNA before finishing my RN degree. Funny how life twists your arm sometimes. Anyway, I'm so ready for what will be a very scrub-clad existence.

As for the title of this post, I've decided to try and do at least a weekly "ABC list of things to be grateful for." My challenge will be not to repeat my list items. Here goes.

A: Autumn. It's so lovely.
B: Ball-point pens.
C: Chapstick.
D: Driving.
E: Eating.
F: Family [original, I know]
G: God.
H: Highway sunrises.
I: Internet
J: Joy
K: Koala bear hugs from babies
L: Lancelot
M: Marlboro
N: Novels
O: Overcoming Obstacles [do I get 2 points for this one?]
P: Paper
Q: Questions that make me think
R: Reading
S: Stationary
T: Talking
U: Underwear [I mean, right?]
V: Very awesome life
W: Wine
X: sorry, x-rays, I don't like you, but you're the only X I can think of right now.
Y: Youth
Z: Zzz's

Okay, that may have been very lame, but at least I did it! I'm sure my lists will improve as time goes on. With the danger of letting myself start a long ramble, I think I'll leave this post be. I'm glad I'm Tuesdaying happily.

New Leaf

It's been a while, little blog.

I'm going to start trying to post more frequently, if only because it forces me to organize my thoughts.

Life has been a medley of ups and owns as of late. Twinges of joy are starting to abound as my sister's wedding is quite swiftly approaching. Saturday is the day!!! I am the maid of honor and have still not finished my toast for the reception. I don't want it to be the quintessential corny, overly-sentimental memoir of our sister-ness, but I also don't want it to be too short and lame. Lord help me achieve a happy medium.

My mom is working like a fiend to wrap up the millions of wedding details that cease to dissipate. I'm so proud of her. She works so hard and composes herself so gracefully. How lucky am I to have a mom like that?! My cup runneth over. Both my parents just astound me. They are such champions for their children. They'd walk through fire for each one of us. I love them so much.

Spiritually, I'm trying to mend myself. I've gone through a couple vicious spiritual "winters" and emerged from each better in some respects and worse in others. I am fiercely trying to turn over a new leaf in these terms.

Frequent the sacrament of Confession
Commit to daily prayer
Attend Mass like I mean it
Seek wholesome friendships and relationships
Be honest with myself
Discern
Prioritize

These are heavy to-do items of mine, but I'm determined to commit. To live them, to think about them often, to let them shape my actions and conversations. I don't love myself right now, and this has got to change. How can you expect to be loved, and I mean truly loved and appreciated by others if you don't first love and appreciate where your life is headed and love and appreciate yourself. I guess those two go hand in hand. If you don't love yourself. you'll make decisions that reflect lack of self-respect. In turn, you tangle yourself in webs that you never foresaw, but in turn have to address. Addressing those are no fun. Albeit, you learn. My God, do you learn. [Just fyi, I derived that statement from C.S. Lewis, so I felt okay using God's name that way.] But isn't it better to let "learning" lie where it may, and let God take over? Why is it so hard for me to let go of emotion and let God step in and be my autopilot? I guess it's being human, isn't it? God gave and entrusted us with free will. I mean, I truly believe that it's one of the inexplicable beauties of being human. But it entails that at any given moment, we are at liberty to choose. How scary is that? Some people latch onto that aspect of humanity as an absurd and twisted freedom, but they don't realize that they morph it into a cage they've made for themselves. Choice is a gritty affair. It is not to be abused, yet it always is. It's why sin exists, and it's why everyone has emotion and stress and terror and fear and pain. I guess I just hope that I can steer myself away from choices that create cages. One thing I am undoubtedly certain of is this: choices made through prayer and the power and guidance of the Holy Spirit can only lead to perfect freedom. Perfect in its most lovely, naked definition. One of the definitions of "perfect" is "complete." In my opinion, no one can be truly complete if they don't live in the Lord. This is why my aforesaid "to-do" list is so important. I crave freedom in the Lord.

It's late, and that's more philosophizing than I've done in a long time. But I'm glad I did. I'm going to post more soon. Not that anyone reads this, but maybe a few do. Regardless, I'll continue my thought-vomit soon, I think.

I can't believe I ended that paragraph with the word vomit. Ew.