Is it ever possible?

Is it ever possible to find a place in this world where one can be one's self?  I have been finding lately that it is much easier for me to be silent than to be myself, make jokes, be angry or hurt... or whatever I'm feeling...than it is to share with people.  I offend when I don't mean to or become the bad guy when I try to help.  Even with my family and friends, the people I'm supposed to be able to be open with.  In the end, I end up feeling rotten and alone.

Case in point.  A nurse at work made a mistake.  Not a big mistake but something that needed to be corrected.  I took her aside to tell her the right way to do it and she cried.  I made her cry.  I didn't mean to and I thought I was being nice.  I went home feeling like the meanest person in the world.

I can't tell my grown kids when they hurt me without being the bad guy.  I can't talk to my husband about things that are bothering me because he doesn't see it as I do.  I can't joke with my friends to blow off steam because then I am insensitive.

So I will sit quietly.  Keep what I think and feel to myself.  Eventually, it won't matter anymore.

A reminder of myself

A friend of mine reminded me tonight who I really am and what I can do when I put my mind to it.  I've been so overwhelmed with stuff happening "to" me that I'd forgotten that I really do have control... over how I react to the world and the stuff that sometimes just seems to bury me.  Sometimes someone will say something at just the right time and a light bulb will go on.

See these medals?

I earned those.  With a lot of blood, sweat, and tears.  Literally.  It seems like a lifetime ago but it was really over the last 2 years, the last one being in May.  I may be sidelined now with my injury but I WILL get back to my old self again.

See the sign on the shelf?  My daughter was just under 2 when my husband made that sign to cheer me on at the Disneyland Half Marathon last year.  Now, when I run on my Dreadmill she stands next to me shouting "go mommy, go mommy!".  My Princess B believes in me and who am I to let her down?

So, thank you Dawn, for reminding me of what I have inside of me.  I know you didn't intend that with your simple questions but that's what you accomplished.  Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. <3

Peace.

Transitions

Until recently, I'd never really thought of all the transitions that we, as people, go through during our lifetime.  Sometimes we call them milestones, turning points, or achievements but it pretty much means the same thing: change.

I've never been a big fan of change, of any kind.  I tend to mourn the passing of time for the same reason a toddler doesn't want to nap... I'm afraid I'm missing something.  Instead of looking for the beauty and adventure in the newest phase of my life, I become incredibly sad about leaving behind the current phase.

I've been thinking a lot about life lately, reflecting on the things I did or didn't do...and how many times my life has changed dramatically.  From birth, we grow and change, at first on a daily basis.  As we get past the infant, toddler, and preschool phases that growth slows down.  I'd always thought of those phases as being the most dramatic changes but as I've gotten older, I've changed my mind.

As an adult, I've experienced major changes many times.  I married, had kids, moved across country twice, had my heart broken when I lost my boys, divorced, started a career, went back to school as an "older" adult, remarried, started a second career, and had another child at an "advanced" age.  Now I find that I am again transitioning into a new time of my life while continuing to remain in the old one.  It is quite unsettling and isolating.

I feel like no one really understands why I feel the way I do.  I also don't want to hurt anyone's feelings because of the reasons I am sad.  By that I mean why I feel isolated and not a part of any group or able to really open up and lean on the people I call my friends.

See, I belong to a unique (and dare I say, elite?) group of older moms of toddlers.  By older I don't mean in my 30's.  Heck no, they are mere amateurs!  I had Princess B when I was 44...6 weeks after my first grandson was born.  So if you do the math (and I know you were...), I am 47 years old.  I am approaching menopause and I am pretty sure my child bearing days are over.  Now, my friends who are my age are puzzled by my feelings of loss and tell me on a daily basis that they don't have any idea how I could possibly keep up with a 3 year old.  I get a lot of "better you than me!" comments...which, if you think about it, is kind of rude.

On the flip side, the moms I know who have kids Princess B's age are significantly younger and are still expanding their families.  While I am extremely happy for them, it is also extremely difficult for me to hear about getting pregnant.  It hurts, sometimes like a kick in the gut, to know that I am done.  It is not their fault that they are younger and still in that stage of life.  It's not their fault that I am past that now and am having trouble adjusting to it.  And because it is not their fault, I don't want to share with them how I feel, even though they are some of my closest friends.  Or maybe it's because they are some of my closest friends.  I don't want to make them feel badly or like they can't talk about it.

I know that I am extremely blessed.  I have 5 beautiful children.  I'm (mostly) healthy.  I'm married to a good man.  I have a job I love.  I'm getting ready to embark on a huge adventure.  I have a lot to be grateful for.

I will get past this.  I will eventually embrace this new time in my life and get back to enjoying the simple act of living in the moment.  Longing for the past is as bad as wishing time away...it takes us away from all that is beautiful in the present.

Peace!

Not a post for everyone

This isn't a weight loss blog but since it's a blog about me and my life it will definitely include some weight stuff.  Fair warning for this post...if you don't want to hear about weight or fitness, this is a post to skip.

I had a rude awakening yesterday when I casually hopped on the scale.  I hadn't really been paying attention to anything weight related for awhile...not since I broke my toe in June, actually.  I still went to the gym to work with the trainer but I couldn't run and I ate pretty much whatever I wanted.  This wouldn't have been an issue 10 years ago but at 47 years old things have sure changed.  In 4 months I've packed on 20+ pounds.  I'm uncomfortable, nothing fits right, my endurance is shot, and I just feel yucky.  I hate looking at myself in the mirror.  When I saw that number on the scale yesterday (my heaviest weight EVER) I just wanted to curl in a ball and cry.  I didn't even weigh this much when I was full term pregnant!

I allowed myself to feel sorry for myself for about 5 minutes and then I went into action.  I joined Weight Watchers Online with the idea that paying for it would make me actually use it.  Today I saw my trainer and worked the hardest I've worked since my injury, including running a mile at race pace (sort of).  I huffed and puffed and poured sweat but I didn't complain once and I did what was asked of me.  Tomorrow I may not be able to lift my arms but moving is just over-rated right?

I tracked all my food today and went out and bought fruits and veggies for the next 2 days.  More than that and it will go bad so I'll just have to deal with shopping every couple days.

I've had so much water today that I slosh when I walk and have spent way too much time in the bathroom.

The thing is, I could continue to feel sorry for myself for this physical mess I am in, beating myself up and giving up saying I can't do it...but I can't do that.  It's not in me and now I feel challenged.  I WILL get to where I want to be.  I will be healthy and strong and beautiful.  I will make my family proud and I will be around when my youngest grows up.  I've faced many things in my life and I will not let extra weight be the death of me, literally or figuratively.

Oh, and for those who are wondering, I have 59 pounds to lose.  It is not a Biggest Loser amount but it seems like a lot to me when I am staring at the starting line.

I won't bore you in every post about this side of my journey...I know it can probably get old to people who don't understand how important this can be.  I've decided that since Mondays are my weigh in day, I'll save all my weight related updates for that day and have my regular post content the rest of the time (whatever the heck that is!).

Now go drink some water!

Peace

A time of reflection

Yep... that says "Jemmy" and is kind of an indication of how my actual birthday went.  I had to work and it was a long, complicated day.  The upside is that I had 2 cakes and 2 dozen cupcakes and my grandson and his mom sent me flowers:

Anyway, my birthday isn't what I wanted to talk about today...at least not directly.  Generally, every year around this time I go into a pretty big funk.  I don't know if it's because my birthday reminds me of the passing of time and I usually don't feel like I'm accomplishing anything or what exactly it is but it happens every year.  Except this year.  This year feels different.

I've had a rough summer.  Physically, emotionally, personally, and professionally it's just been a challenge.  Now, I find myself coming out on the other side feeling hopeful for the future...at least 85% of the time.  I'm in the home stretch with school, things are better at home, I'm feeling pretty confident at work, and we have a lot of big plans for the near future.  It's liberating to feel positive about life.  I never really realized how much energy it takes to be sad.

So here's to the next year that is sure to be full of change and excitement!

Peace!

A post about nothing

In the 11 days since my last post I have been busy, emotional, lazy, overwhelmed, uninspired, and just plain tired...not necessarily in that order.  As a result, this post will be as aimless as I've felt lately.

With the above disclaimer, I present my week and a half in pictures...

Princess B got her first big girl bed...

...and a black eye when she fell out of bed the first night in it =(

I got flowers, just because I'd had a hard weekend.

We did some artwork (that handsome guy is my grandson, L)

I did A LOT of homework (blech!)

 Colored my hair (it looks better now than it did at first)...

 Bought myself a Starbuck's gift card for my birthday...

Did a mountain of laundry (that I plan to fold tonight...I promise)...

In that 11 days I had:
1 garage sale
1 bottle of wine
1 transport to E. Chicago
2 patients in 5 work days
60+ hours of work
7 loads of laundry
14 cups of coffee
3 trips to the gym
3 miles of running (pathetic =( )
ENTIRELY TOO MUCH STRESS!

I will now take this moment to breathe and think of this:

oh yeah... I also talked to a couple of recruiters today and am feeling a lot more secure in my decision to move...so I guess things aren't all THAT bad...

My new mantra:  "just a few more months"

No Puppies and Rainbows Today

I have hesitated in writing a new post lately.  In my line of work, one has to take the sad days with the good days and lately there have been a lot of sad days in the PICU.  Some days it just seems so difficult to do my job.  People come into my life at the worst time in their lives and it's my job to be not only their child's nurse but their source of hope, comfort, and strength.  And when there is no hope of giving a parent the answer they want to hear, it hurts to be the one who has to continue to repeat the same answers over and over again.  Then there are the times when even though a patient will eventually be ok, the family won't.  Multiple traumas, fires, car accidents...how do you explain to a parent why one child was taken and another wasn't?

I often share my losses with my patient's parents if I think it will give them some insight on what they are going through.  While I know every situation is different, there is a common bond between parents who have lost children.  It is the club no one wants to join but it often gives one strength to know that someone else has gone through it and survived.  My emotional investment in my patients and their families can take a big toll on me, though.

Today as I get ready to leave for work, I mentally put on my armor and pray for the right words to say to parents who have lost children, parents who stand by and watch their child hurt while powerless to do anything for them, and parents who may or may not have their hopes dashed.  I pray for the strength to hold these parents up when they are unable to hold themselves up.

Peace.