September 9, 2020 Another day. I’m so frustrated with this never ending pandemic. I just want life to go back to normal. I want to turn on the news and not hear about the coronavirus. It’s been 6 months. I never thought the world could be so abruptly ended the way it has been. I need to think clearly and I can’t right now. I don’t sleep, but I’m exhausted all the time. I look in the mirror and see every flaw. Why? I don’t know actually. I wish I did. I think oh I used to be so cute. How will I ever find anyone else? I’m so lame, I never want to do anything and I’m a bitch or I’m bitchy. Maybe that’s the mentality that led me to someone like him in the first place. I remember a coworker telling me no man was going to want to date someone with three kids. He was wrong of course, but I certainly carried that with me. It wouldn’t have bothered someone with higher self esteem. This has been hard. There are worse things in life. Way worse and I know that. I see that on a daily basis at work. People’s lives shattered in an instant. People sick, near death with no support system whatsoever. I have enough and I have more than a lot of people. And things will never make me happy until I heal myself, address the emptiness inside of me. I will find love again. I know that I will. Even if I’m afraid of it and I am. Mostly because love can be wonderful and is love misery? Is that what I think love is? I don’t want that. I want to build a fulfilling life on my own. I want to be close to my kids—to know them, to really know them. I want a little house that’s mine. The security of being debt free. I am happy he’s gone. I am at peace that he’s gone. I don’t owe him a thing.
Sometimes I wonder if Shakespeare was also Jesus, in a Bruce Wayne is also Batman sort of way, but whatever no offense is intended here and I do love the teachings of Jesus Christ. By the way every statement made in that particular journal entry of mine was true with the exception of wanting my life to return back to normal. I just hadn’t figured out that was my problem yet.
Every last one of my wishes has since come true, except the return of normal and I am so grateful for that.
It’s true what they say about manifesting, you have to feel it to believe it and once you believe it, you will absolutely start to see it.
So I hope my intended picture is beginning to form in your mind. My job as a Trauma ICU nurse is rough and lol kids, that’s an understatement. Sometimes it borders on horrific and indescribable. I always find it challenging to articulate what it’s like to watch people’s lives, hopes and dreams shatter until there’s nothing at all left except for one flat electrical line on a cardiac monitor.
Oh that means the patient is dead in case that wasn’t obvious.
On the flip side, I always find it hard to articulate why I love being a nurse. However, working as a nurse, is a whole different story. So there’s part of my dilemma with the catchphrase,—
I am.
It’s hard to separate Nurse Kristin from Real Kristin, so hard actually that I simply recognize it’s a thing and don’t overly worry about this anymore. Occasionally when I find I am required to really parent my now older children, do I know I need to think about maybe separating my true self from The Nurse.
As a mother, losing a child is my worst nightmare. As a nurse, watching you potentially lose your child is my worst nightmare. This is my personal lens and not true of all nurses, especially the ones who are not parents.
For the most part death in the hospital is usually anticlimactic, often brutal and not at all what it looks like on your screens. Personally I feel people should become more aware of this. No, no one will die screaming, and although patients do bleed out sometimes, they don’t die clutching their abdomen whilst shouting victory or any other prophetic last words. The healthcare providers will usually not shed a tear over you, at least not while they’re in the workplace. They will simply go on about their day, maybe finish the lunch they were starting to eat when your heart decided to stop, and soon will receive another patient.
Prior to 2020, I often described myself as “dead inside” and often worried about this, felt like there was maybe something wrong with me.
I believe that’s what people are trying to say, when they say they’re dead inside or soulless, when it’s far more accurate to say they’ve become very desensitized and well there are options to manage this job hazard. However I know I always have empathy galore for my patients and their families, (I am no empath) and telling everyone I was dead inside or had no soul anymore, never really made sense to me either.
I knew this to be one of those personal lies I often told myself. The fact that I can see a human makes it much easier for me to do my difficult job.
The things I see at my job, also have a way of making me feel quite paranoid about humans and the state of the world in general. Again there are ways to manage this and it helps to become aware of the simple fact we could die at any moment.
My mind likes to sometimes torment me, often likes to hit me with a recollection from its vast memory bank when I least expect it. Sometimes the memories, these flashes back, are so strong, I worry I could be experiencing a combined auditory/visual hallucination. The Nurse in me thinks I should go for an MRI, maybe I have a brain tumor, or some unknown cancer has metastasized to my brain, or perhaps it’s that PTSD, I have a slight touch of. By the way, that’s another job hazard, always forming these differential diagnoses in my head.
My vivid memory is a gift, a blessing and a curse if there ever was such a thing. The ability to recall, practically word for word everything I read including pathophysiology texts, Critical-Care Nurse board exam questions, or all of the Advanced Life Support training algorithms, usually comes in handy. My memory is wicked, makes me a great test taker, and super chill in emergencies, so I do like to think my memory serves me well; also feel I have helped saved many lives with some of my quick thinking and even quicker decision-making skills. According to the internet, and my mother Debbie, I do not possess a photographic memory.
My memory will also allow me fight like hell when I’m sure I’m correct, however I don’t always feel the need to prove I’m correct, so then I’ll often back all the way off and say nothing at all. At least that is when I’m outside of the workplace, but if I am advocating for a patient stand back please. I will use everything in my power, every last resource at my disposal, in my always attempts to advocate for my patients. Truly, this has probably always been one of the most frustrating aspects of my job since I know I am only one human.
One day it occurred to me I could start advocating for myself, thought if I could advocate on my own behalf, half as well as I could advocate for others, well then my life might improve and I wouldn’t feel so stuck and miserable.
Currently most of my gifts all work for me, and my emphasis here is on the word currently. Oh and another thing, these days my hot inherited (lol) Italian temper is easier to control and it also keeps me safe. So I don’t worry about that either, just aware it’s there if I need to access this more vicious aspect of myself.
Although I appreciate the mandatory violence prevention training sessions I have to take annually,— along with all those active shooter drills, and the mass casualty events preparedness training, I personally don’t ever feel I take too much new information away. My instincts are pretty damn good about people, haha yeah spot on actually.
When I was a child, I vividly recall watching one of my uncles knock his brother off of Nanny Shirley’s roof, with a 2 x 4,—before he jumped to the ground and continued the fight that began on the roof. I don’t remember why they were on the roof, but I feel like we were all on the roof a lot more in the 1980’s. In fact Nanny Shirley, who was 5’2”, could break up any fight,— she did have 4 brothers and 3 sons, so she usually broke up fights with a switch from her weeping willow tree. Oh and my Nanny made you go pick the switch she was about to whoop your ass with. If she was really mad, she made whoever was mad at you, go pick out the switch.
God I miss that woman.
One day in my mid 40’s, I woke up and realized how tired I always felt. I was so tired of being told I was crazy by some men in my life, —who for years rather enjoyed my passionate enthusiasm—until they decided this no longer served them. I wondered why these men, and there were many, would call and text me, repeatedly ask read: beg to see me again and do this for umm years, if they truly believed I was so crazy? Or sorry I should say they felt the need to tell me I was mentally unstable and in need of professional help?
Nanny Shirley always said, it takes one to know one. My ultimate conclusion related to my relationships was either both of us were crazy, or maybe perhaps some of the men I knew were assholes who truly care didn’t care about me at all, even though they claimed to love me,—but instead decided to diagnose me with a mental illness they’re un-fucking-qualified to diagnose.
Love me or leave me alone. Thank you 😻
Author’s Note: The above article, with the exception of the journal entry, was published in July of this year, has been revised a little and the original version can be found somewhere on my homepage.
Here’s a meme. Btw can’t wait to see the redux of this one!
“wanting my life to return back to normal. I just hadn’t figured out that was my problem yet.”
What is really normal ? I mean even weathermen don’t use “normal” temperatures anymore - it’s average !
I think the chaos in your life is what has always been the norm. It’s just now you find or realized that it’s defined your direction, defines who you are and your purpose. Oh, and now you like it ! I think 🤔. Soooo - why go back ?
And as for love you or leave you ??
I’ll take the love. Leaving could make things a little dull here 😉.
Go Nanny Shirley 💪🏻💪🏻😎