Finding my Focus...

*cough cough*

Pardon me as I blow the dust of my poor abandoned blog. I've had a few times where I started to compose a post for here, whether on the computer or just in my head in the shower (where I find myself doing most of my thinking) and found I could barely finish a sentence, let alone a blog post. Lately my head has mostly been an uncoordinated jumble of thoughts, ranging from positive and exciting (I spent a week and a bit in Europe, so that was pretty cool), to the negative and not so exciting (mostly work stuff).

The negative thoughts, unfortunately, are the ones that aren't so easy to get rid of, so I've been a little leery to sit down at my blog, not wanting this to be super whiny or negative. This is supposed to be "My Pile of Good Things" after all. So why write this post now? Mostly for catharsis. I won't deny that I'm going through a bit of a mid-(twenties)-life crisis, but the one thing I remain powerfully aware of is that my life is full of good things. As much as there are things in my life that I find stressful and somewhat depressing, I have watched over the last month as friends have been dealing with far worse - from losing friends to losing the life growing within them. I am also reminded every day when I go to work how truly fragile life is - I have had patients with history of sexual abuse, to patients nearly losing their lives while trying to bring their child into this world (and that's just this past weekend!).

Okay so where's the positive in all this? That's why I've been trying to remember. The hugs from patients as they walk out the door. The sincere "Thank you's" from terrified fathers, and exhausted mothers. My co-workers. They make the days at work bearable. It's the things I fill my life with OUTSIDE of work, however, that give me joy. My photography has recently been a huge source of joy for me. And yet, at the same time, a huge source of stress. A good stress though, the kind where you are truly being challenged and the effort that you put in has a real, tangible payout. I've always longed for a creative outlet in my life. I'm not a hugely creative person, and I'm also kind of lazy. I realize now though, that the abandoned scrapbook pages that sit on my desk, and the abandoned cross-stitches that sit beside my chair in the living room are there because I was searching for something I could really pour my heart into. I think I've found that in photography. I say I *think* because I'm very aware that I am very new to this craft. One thing I know with certainty is that it has been a LONG time since I have found something I am actually this invested in, this interested in, and have this much desire to better myself in.

What else gives me joy? The people I fill my life with. My friends who I sadly don't see enough of, but treasure when I do get to see them. My family, who I am blessed to see LOTS of (and the older I get, the more I realize how much of a blessing that truly is). A church family who accepts me, flaws and all. A loving God who accepts me flaws and all!! All 202 Facebook friends who have all touched my life in various ways and in various degrees but without whom I don't think I would be me! Silly TV shows, singing along to a great song at the top of my lungs driving down the highway, talking to myself, chair dancing in front of my computer (yep, I'm doing it right now), sitting alone in a dark movie theater losing myself in a big bag of popcorn and a really good movie, a really good book, a really good cry, this kid, enjoying junk food when I really know I shouldn't, and way more things then I can even think of right now!!

It shouldn't be this hard to remember the good things in life, but some days it is. When your day grows dark, count your blessings. It's amazing how much it can brighten your day!

Two other things to brighten your day...they certainly brighten mine!!

You are My Sunshine(s)...

People talk about how great it is to be a mom. People talk about how great it is to be a grandma. What I've never understood is why there aren't more people talking about how great it is to be an auntie! Particularly a single auntie with a fairly generous budget (both for money and for time). I find as an auntie I get the best of both worlds. I'm young enough and (mostly) in shape enough to run around after the toddler-turned-big boy, yet I'm old enough that I feel confident watching him, and taking him out and about as if he was my own. I've got a car-seat in the back of my own car, yet I have the freedom of knowing that it isn't always filled! I can sleep/eat/read/watch tv/and pee in peace, but I know that nearly any day still has the possibility of being filled with snuggles/hugs/kisses and love-filled smiles. I can spend as much time as I want with the little stinkers and still have the freedom to go home after it all. I was there when both of them were born, and I hope I can watch them grow up and eventually have families of their own. It isn't always wonderful, but they are both bright spots in my life, and for that I will always love them.

Alexa

Nikolai

We're in this Together...

I am a nurse by profession. I did not dream for years of becoming a nurse, in fact, I sort of just fell into it. The original plan was that I was going to enter medical school with the eventual plan to become a pediatrician. Never one to not have a back-up plan, instead of the typical Bachelor of Science in pre-med, I thought it would be a good idea to get my undergrad degree in nursing, a fail safe in case I didn't get into med school right away. Heh. Hello back-up plan.

Sure enough, I entered nursing and found a passion for what they were teaching us. Caring for people day in and day out, being there for them during their darkest and brightest hours, making a viable difference in people's lives? Count me in! It all sounded so amazing. Combine that with the fact that I was quickly beginning to realize that being a doctor was not as fascinating as it looked, and I figured that nursing was for me. During my four years of nursing school everyone who found out I was in nursing school looked at me with stars in their eyes. I was going to do something wonderful. For the first part of nursing school, I believed them. However the more I worked in the hospital the more the real world kicked in and my rose-coloured glasses were soon dark and dusty.

After school and senior practicum I was hired by the rural hospital that would be my home away from home for the next 14 months or so. I was excited to start "real" nursing, but I was shocked to find out how real it truly was. Nursing can be quite a gritty world. My first year of nursing was a "baptism by fire" of sorts where I learned the cold hard facts of understaffed hospitals, overworked nurses, far too sick patients and the dangerous combination of the three. This harsh realization, in combination with working with some world-weary older staff led to a personal crisis of sorts. What the heck was I doing in this world? Why on earth was I a nurse? But by the grace of God, and by the priceless support of my dear friends who were dealing with their own version of this personal crisis I made it through.

After a bit more journeying I have made it to the unit that I now call home. Moms and babies. At least it's mostly happy. The work is very different than what I started out doing, but for the most part I love it. I really do. And I really have to remind myself of that. A lot. I'm beginning to realize just how much nurses have to give of themselves every single day. When I started out I gave, but I didn't keep any of that love and care for myself. I didn't realize that I was allowed to. Now I realize that not only am I allowed to, but it's the only thing that will stop me from going crazy. Now I start with giving to myself. Not in a selfish way, but I'm learning that only by caring for myself can I give care to anybody else.

I worked this weekend. They were both bad days. Probably some of the worst days I've had in a long time. One of those kind of days where multiple nurses found themselves in tears multiple times throughout the day. It's not important why it was bad. I could place blame, point fingers (and frequently did this weekend) but in my heart I know that they were bad days for the same reason anything in this world is bad. Believe it or not, but the devil can sour even the beauty of moms and babies. That son of a bitch. Sunday night, while I eyed the clock desperately hoping that I had gotten everything done and that I could finish my charting and get home at a reasonable hour, a colleague came in the room. She had a much worse day than I had, and I had done everything reasonable that I could to help her. She wanted to thank me for what I had done for her and I brushed it off first with a joke about how I was just glad that MY patients had mostly behaved themselves that day (it hadn't been the case the day before) and said something to the effect that, "Well that's the only reason anybody survives this place, because we help each other out."

In an instant I realized just how true that was. Nursing is a hard, bitter career. It brings the worst and the best out of you. It attracts some of the most impressive women (and men!). People either idealize nurses, or (those who know them slightly better) view them as surprisingly cynical and bitter. Many ask "Why are you even IN that career if it's so bad?" I think this weekend I realized we don't always do it for the patients, we don't always do it for ourselves, but we will always do it for each other! While I sometimes hate my job, with a passion (and really, lets be honest...doesn't everybody hate their job sometimes?), I will always love nursing for providing me with another family of sorts. I have been blessed with some amazing colleagues that, when they are working, I know that no matter how rotten and miserable the day might get, it is already better for the simple fact that I am not going through it alone.

Talk British to me....

In the last couple of years I have developed a new fascination, or obsession if you will. The British people. I blame it on my brother. Quite innocently he introduced me to a new (and yet very old) show called Doctor Who. A classic show in Britain, Doctor Who is much beloved by geeks in North America, and has quickly grown in popularity over the last few years. I believe Darryl introduced it to me sometime in 2005, when the "new Who" as it has been called, started airing. We, of course, watched it on probably illegal downloads, but we loved it nonetheless. What Darryl didn't realize of course, was that by innocently introducing me to Doctor Who, he would be spawning a bit of an obsession of mine, particularly when in 2006 David Tennant, my Scottish hero, would take on the role of Doctor Who. Never underestimate the female mind when adorable Scotsmen are in play.

The infatuation that I had for David Tennant first gave me more of a working knowledge of Who than any sane girl should have, but in recent years, has introduced me to other aspects of British television and radio. Youtube searches, mp3 downloads, as well as North American movies and television, have found me developing quite a taste for British humour (which can be more classy, and more crass than North American humour, sometimes at the same time!), as well as an unhealthy desire to speak in a flawless British accent.

I suppose, in a way, it shouldn't come as a surprise. After all, I grew up with Coronation Street playing on our television set. The one TV vice my mother allowed herself was British, so why shouldn't one of mine be the same? Who knows, if Coronation Street contained a good looking male lead when my mother grew up watching the show, and if she had the terrible, but amazing powers of the Internet, maybe she would have found herself in a similar predicament!

I'm sure one day I will mature past the stage of silly obsessions. Or perhaps when I eventually travel to England I will find that it's NOT the magical land of my dreams (I hear real British people are actually quite unfortunate looking, with bad teeth). However in the mean time I shall continue swooning whenever I hear an English or Scottish accent, and giggling like a little school girl when David Tennant appears on TV.

Choose Your Own Adventure

Do you remember the classic "Choose Your Own Adventure" books from when we were kids? I remember going through a phase of reading them over and over again when I was in elementary school (of course, that may also be related to the fact that our school had a pretty sad collection of books when I was in elementary school, so it was "Anne of Green Gables", Janette Oke books or "Choose Your Own Adventure") (Of course I may be most definitely am exaggerating, but still).

Anyways, my point, I'm sure I was going to make one..... RIGHT! Choose Your Own Adventure (CYOA from now on, cuz wow, that's kinda long to type) -- I just can't help but wonder what life would be like if it was a little more like a CYOA book. I mean, yes, we make choices about our life, but don't you ever wonder what your life would be like if a few major decisions were done differently?

Don't get me wrong, overall I'm fairly happy with where I've ended up. But as I watch friends from high school get married, have their first kid and then their second, and as I watch guys and girls a few years younger than me (who I can't help but still think about as "kids") get married and start their lives together, I can't help but be curious about what my life would be like if I was married and had a kid or two. Especially if I knew that a few pages away was the life I was living today. I just wonder, if we had that ability to see our lives at different stages, and the results of different decisions, if we would be happier with what we have?

Of course, it is a good thing that my life is NOT a CYOA book because I seem to recall always picking the options that I thought would be more exciting, and then ending the story WAY before I was ready for it to be over, forcing me to go back and pick a less exciting option, allowing the story to continue. I think I'll leave the choices to the Big Guy and watch my own story unfold.