story

Daily Post 004: School and Storytime

Standard

Wooo! Writing twice in one week! Two in a row actually. That should be an achievement in itself.

Quick recap before getting into more “life” stories since I do have a stash of some pretty good ones… ones without graphic pictures of near-death experiences due to cats…

Not a whole lot to report for yesterday. I did laundry. I meal prepped. That’s another thing that should be listed as an accomplishment. I haven’t been prepping meals or grocery shopping like I used to. I’ve been haphazardly eeking by for so long that anything even halfway resembling my previous routines is celebrated as a win inside my head.

So yeah, there’s that. I put clothes away. Still waiting for the drawer organizers to come via Amazon. Looking forward to those and forcing organization back into my life. I talked to a coworker for a while. I organized the bathroom drawers where I keep all my morning stuff. Still not 100% happy with them, but they’re better than they were.

Mama Ox cleared off a shelf for me in the kitchen last night. That might be factoring into my whole “lack of routine” mood. For the longest time I didn’t have a place to keep anything. Maybe with having a spot where I belong in the kitchen that will change.

I did go through my notebooks yesterday. I haven’t been the best about making to-do lists but out of everything, that’s probably the one thing I’m most consistent with other than meds.

I registered for my summer class. That took some back and forth with my dean since the class I needed wasn’t showing up for me. It was nice to “talk” to her. It’s been almost four months since I’ve had any interaction with the nursing staff. I had another email this morning from her with the contact information for my Nursing Lab 2 instructor. I plan to reach out and introduce myself since she’s one of the few people I haven’t met in person yet.

I also found out I can register for fall classes already so I intend to do that at some point. Maybe today. Today is going better than it was this morning.

There was a lot of sexy time yesterday with Ox. Not going to lie, I was totally ok with all of it. I don’t think it was so much the sex that I needed or wanted. It was the intimacy. The closeness. The touching. The warmth. The moments of life not mattering and to-do lists not existing and levels of productivity not being met.

For a few hours, none of that mattered. It was just me and him and that was really nice. Connective. Stress-relieving.

I did read him my writing. That’s something I like and sometimes dislike about our relationship. He lets me read my writings to him. It’s how he can know what’s going on in my head. What I’m feeling. What I can’t communicate sometimes when we’re trying to have a conversation because I still don’t know what I think or feel yet.

It also means he knows about the times like last week, where he said my name. He sees me cry as I read out loud how I felt and why I felt that way. And so, just like that particular writing, yesterday he heard all about my connective experience with Jon and I realized how it must have made him feel like a third wheel.

Here Ox is, super supportive, stood with me through cancer, let’s me cry, and never once said “no” to anything I wanted to do with the bedroom. Yet here I am, talking Jon up like he’s the only support person I have in my life who understands me or cares… It left me feeling sort of shitty to be honest. It gave me some things to think about at the very least. I’m still thinking through them.

So… that was yesterday. No trip to the gym. No breakfast with my brother since we did lunch on Tuesday. No crazy day of crushing my lists. But it was a good day overall and in the frail emotional state I find myself in most days recently, I take comfort in knowing that I was able to have two good days in a row. I got stuff done and while it might not have been everything, “some things” is more than the “nothing” it could have been.

Today hasn’t been a total wash either which is comforting. I woke up at 8:30 which is late for me. I didn’t do a whole lot. Had part of a protein bar, talked to Ox, curled back up in bed…

It wasn’t until around 10:30 that I started actually “doing” anything. Jon had messaged me asking to take his dog out. I guess he had been running late and didn’t get a chance to do it before he had to go to work. Since I was literally still in bed I didn’t have a reason not to agree to help him out.

Ox called when he was off work. We agreed to meet at the diner I really like for lunch. That forced me to get out of bed finally. I drove to meet him and we had an enjoyable meal together. I don’t know why I love their omelets and hash browns so much. Maybe because it’s the closest thing I can get to Waffle House here in Nebraska.

We went to Costco afterward to get gas. That was the last “work prep” task I had on my list. Making sure I didn’t have to wake up super early in the morning to fill up before driving to work.

Nope. Here I am with clean clothes, food for lunches, and a full tank of gas.

Irrational Right Brain: Bring on the work week!

We stopped at Walmart after filling up. Ox wanted to look at mounting brackets for a hard drive. We also wanted to take a look at some bedding stuff and totes for winter clothing.

The mounting bracket was a bust as was the bedding. But we did get the totes so I can take care of some of the remaining piles in the room. That will feel nice when I get around to it.

I stopped at the apartment to take care of the dog. Since Jon wasn’t home and everyone else was at work, the apartment was extremely quiet. I ended up staying there for a while, napping, soaking in the solitude. I hadn’t realized how much I missed silence and the lack of energy around me until I curled up on my memory foam couch under my weighted blanket and just breathed.

I didn’t have to think. I didn’t have to do. I didn’t have to worry or process or any of the stuff I feel like I have to constantly do. It was one of the best naps I’ve had in a while.

After waking up I came back to the house and so here I am. Writing. I feel ready to pack away the winter stuff. I feel able to register for those final classes. It’s odd how a little bit of alone time can completely change my mindset and mood, but there we are.

There’s still a few hours left in the day. It’s sunny outside and the wind it’s horrifically cold. I still have time to write a list and take care of a few things before enjoying an evening of cross-stitching and I’m looking forward to all of it. The productivity and the relaxation. I’m even looking forward to going back to work which is something I forgot I could do.

Alright. Now that “catch-up” is done, on to storytime.

Early on in the renovation process, Ox and I decided that we were going to tear out the ceiling. The room had a drop-down ceiling for whatever reason. Neither of us liked it. So since we were working on the room anyway, we decided we would take the extra time to get rid of it and make the room more like what we wanted it to be.

Well… come to find out while the addition was being built, someone stepped through the ceiling, so there was a giant hole no one knew about in the southeast corner of the ceiling… Well… there was no going back with the drop-down ceiling at that point, so it became an issue of, “How do we want to fix this?”

We tabled that issue for a bit as we continued removing tiles from the ceiling. When we got to the northeast corner we started finding Reese wrappers… in the ceiling…

Ox looked short of sheepish as he explained when he was younger he and his brothers used to have a bunk bed in that area, and his bed was the top bunk. The wrapper most likely was hidden in the ceiling after he had snuck candy from his parents.

I gave him points for being creative in hiding the evidence. XD

So… with all of the tiles and supportive framing removed, all that was left of the drop-down ceiling was the metal supports lining the walls. They were being held in place with screws.

Irrational Right Brain: I can totally take screws out and be helpful! Woo! Something I’m not terrified of fucking up!

Universe: Hold my beer.

Things were going well. I had taken the east wall supports down, most of the south wall, and was beginning to work on the north wall. I got about three screws in. Everything’s going fine. Got to the fourth screw. Began to take it out… and the power to the house goes out.

Irrational Right Brain: Oh god! Oh god! Oh god!

Ox had been out of the room while this was going on. He came back in calling out, “What did you do?”

Me: I did what you told me to do!

We got the power turned back on by flipping some of the breakers. Ox had me get back on the ladder to show him EXACTLY what I had been doing when the power went out. As I started trying to remove the screw I could see sparks inside the wall.

At that point, Ox took over. We got the screw out and removed the drywall around the area in question. Wouldn’t you know… thirty years ago when Ox’s dad had been building the room, he put a screw directly through the electrical wiring and into a stud…

Yeah… THIRTY YEARS… and the house never caught on fire… So now whenever I have to use a power tool I give Ox shit about knocking the power to the house out or being “set up for failure” from thirty years in the past.

We were able to fix up the ceiling and we corrected the electrical issue. I have way more respect for people in those home improvement/remodeling shows. This endeavor was no joke. It did make for some good stories though, and even though there were moments of frustration between Ox and myself, I think we worked pretty well together as a team.

Musing Moments 130: LFTIO – Story Reflection

Standard

DSS Leadership – Assignment 7
Book – “Leadership from the Inside Out”




The book shared four stories. I am to reflect on them and explore how they may spark important emotions, memories, values, and influences.

Story 1 reflection – Book Revolution

Summary: A young girl in China was forced to leave her home with her parents during China’s Cultural Revolution. They had to relocate from their home in the city with modern conveniences to a small village in the mountains. Her parents were forced to leave their jobs. They had to abandon all of their possessions. Instead of packing necessities, the girl’s father packed books. When she wasn’t helping her family survive, she read.

After a few years, her family was allowed to return to the city and she was allowed to return to school. She applied to college. She scored above her grade level. She was accepted into a fellowship program at Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine and is now a medical researcher at a global company.

“The vision, values, and courage of my father remind me daily what true leadership is: maintaining your dignity; staying true to yourself and what is important; care for others at great personal risk; and courageously challenging authority when your deepest values are at stake.”


Did this story touch you in some way?

It did. I found it inspiring. I feel a connection to the girl’s father. He felt that knowledge and his books were worth risking his life to keep. I feel he has a deep sense of honor he was unwilling to give up. I admire that quality in him and I feel he passed that on to his daughter.


Do you have a story in your life that resonates with this story?

Not to this extreme. I faced several application rejections due to having purple hair. While I realize that sounds a bit trivial in comparison, it is in the same vein of not compromising who you are to satisfy others. My hair does not affect how well I am able to do my job. I am not going to give up something that makes me genuinely happy in my day-to-day life to simply earn a paycheck. I knew I was making the task of finding a job harder by not conforming and dying my hair back to its original color. I also knew that I would find the “right” job by being true to who I was and am. I would find something where it mattered more what type of person I was rather than how well I could fit a cookie-cutter pattern.


Story 2 Reflection – The Deeper Voice Within

Summary: A man is diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s disease. Eventually, he became unable to walk or talk or care for himself. He was able to communicate using a computer by slowly tapping out words to form sentences via slight head movements. When interviewed by Diana Pierce she asked what he wanted people to know about his daily life. He answered that he still wanted his thoughts to be known and that it was hard having his friends and family members ignore him, “as if I am just a green plant in the corner of the room.”


Did this story touch you in some way?

I feel a great deal of empathy for this man. It must be horrifically isolating to be talked around rather than talked to. I cannot imagine how it must have felt for people to not wait long enough, not be patient enough, to allow him to reply and to have conversations with him anymore as if the disease had somehow changed him.


Do you have a story in your life that resonates with this story?

I don’t think I do. Reading about this mans view of how he was treated by people he loved and cared for, friends he had known for years, reminds me of how important it is to listen to someone, even if it takes them longer than normal to talk. Everyone deserves respect and to feel valued and cared for; not ignored.


Story 3 Reflection – The Gift of Life

Summary: Young couple suffers several medical complications with family members and premature twin girls. All the medical complications resolved themselves. Everyone survived and is alive, but it was one hell of a year for the couple and their family. Living through the trials life threw at him laid the foundation for the husband’s leadership skills, priorities, and values.

Did this story touch you in some way?

Not overly. I can respect the man’s choice to donate his kidney to his brother and the struggle he and his wife faced with their premature twins. I can also relate to learning deep lessons and discovering yourself through harsh, demanding, and unexpected situations. Out of all of the stories in this section, this is the second most relatable for me, so I’m unsure why it is the one which sparks the least emotional response.

Do you have a story in your life that resonates with this story?
 Yes. The year after my mother died.


Story 4 Reflection – The Compassionate Thing

Summary: Man’s father leaves the family. Ends up needing care due to an accident. Son stays at the hospital with the father and eventually becomes his caregiver. The father passes away and the son reflects on how because of the accident he was able to grow up and reestablish a relationship with his father.


Did this story touch you in some way?

Yes. I can empathize with the resentment the son felt in the beginning and the release he felt when he was finally able to work through his emotions to have a genuine relationship with his father.


Do you have a story in your life that resonates with this story?

This reflects a bit on how my own father and I were able to reconnect after my mother’s death. It is the most relatable story out of the four for me.

MUSING MOMENT 129: LFTIO – STORY 3

Standard
DSS Leadership – Assignment 6.3
Book – “Leadership from the Inside Out”




For the 2-3 most impactful and formative experiences and / or relationships, tell the entire story here: 


Story 3 – The Middle of Nowhere

The first few years after my mom’s death were hard for me. I had lost my strongest support structure, I had lost the relationship I had been in, I had lost my home due to losing that relationship, and I had left my career.

Essentially, everything I had been using to identify who I was had been taken away from me. I was no longer a teacher. I was no longer a girlfriend. I was no longer anything, and so I found myself with a vast expanse of nothingness within myself. A never-ending plane of smooth unmarred whiteness where once there had been “me”, or what I had felt was me.

I found myself in a phase I had never been before. Building. Who did I want to be? What did I want to be? What did I stand for? Why was I alive? What was my purpose, my reason for waking up each day knowing that mom was dead?

It took a while, but eventually, slowly, one day at a time, one breath at a time, I found myself. I found the answers to my questions and with each answer, a brick was laid on the plane of whiteness. A foundation, solid and unshakeable. I was going to be me and I was going to live my life and Life couldn’t stop me from doing it. I wouldn’t let it stop me.

During the first year, I obtained an apartment. Though it never felt like home, it was mine and I no longer had to worry about where I would be sleeping at night. I began taking classes as a way to get my foot into the medical field. I took a nursing assistant class though I never became state certified. The thought of succeeding at something while mom wasn’t there to celebrate with me was still too much to face at the time. I took an EKG class as well as a phlebotomy class where I overcame my fear of blood and needles. Eventually, I interviewed with DaVita. When asked if I felt dialysis was something I could do, I replied with, “I honestly don’t know. But I can promise that I’ll try my best and in the end, that’s all I can do; my best.”

I made it through the Star Learning program; two months of training where I was taught about dialysis and the skills I would need as a patient care technician. Once I was through training I began working full time at the downtown Orlando clinic. As time went on I became a stronger member of my team.

On a personal level, I began going to fitness boxing classes as a way to deal with the strong emotions of my grief. That led to joining a dojo where I learned jiujitsu techniques along with Muay Thai. Martial arts gave me a way to connect with myself. It gave me a new circle of people to interact with and a common interest to bond over. I met several key people in my life during this time which helped build me up as a person. They helped me discover things about myself and the type of person I not only wanted to be, but continue being as well. More bricks to add to my foundation.

During this time of growth and discovery, there were also negatives. I began working 12 – 16 hour days since that’s how the clinic was run. My time at the dojo and the gym became less and less. My roommate was consistently unable to pay rent and I found myself donating plasma as a way to keep making ends meet. I had to drive past my old place of employment nearly every day, a reminder of the emotional pain I had experienced and was continuing to go through, along with previous apartments which had harbored abusive relationships.

While there were positive aspects of my life in Florida, there were also negatives and while I felt this need to “get away” and start over, I didn’t know how. Where would I go? What would I do? How would I move all of my stuff? How would I afford the move when I already struggled with rent and personal bills?

It was a situation where there was so much to figure out it was easier to just stay where I was and accept that life just sort of sucked and would suck for the next while.

During the second Christmas without mom, against all financial logic, I rented a room at an extended stay for a week, packed up my computer, took time off from work, and spent a week alone, away from all of the stressors in my life. I renewed my subscription to World of Warcraft and spent a majority of the week inside my room playing the game with my younger brother.

It was the week of my birthday and this was my birthday gift to myself; surviving and getting through one of the hardest times of the year without having to worry about my roommate’s dirty dishes being in the sink or the endless piles of dog fur floating around the apartment. No patients or teammates to explain my sadness to. Just me and an imaginary world where I could run around and blow up bunnies or pick flowers if I wanted to.

During this week there was a guildmate I began talking to. Through the course of our conversation my discontent for Florida came out and how I wanted to move but didn’t know where I would go and all of the other unknowns that went with the concept of moving.

“Well, Lincoln is pretty much the opposite of all of that,” was his reply to my story.

Though I didn’t know it at the time, a seed had been planted. The name of a town led to an InDeed search for job opportunities. Seeing opportunities led to looking for my own company in the area. That led to receiving the blessing from my former FA to reach out to the FA’s in Lincoln. That led to a trip to Nebraska and an interview, which led to moving halfway across the country to start my own life in the middle of nowhere.

There were people who thought moving was a bad idea. There were people who thought it was a good idea. And then there was me. Lost. Confused. Caught somewhere in the middle. Unhappy but not sure if moving was the right choice to make or not.

I would be leaving my brother. My clinic. My patients. My friends. My dojo. The last remnants of my old life. And I would be leaving for what? A possibility of things getting better? A “maybe life won’t suck as bad”? I didn’t even know if I would have a job when I got there. It was just a promising interview and knowing that medical areas usually had a need somewhere. Did I want to leave everything I knew and trade it all for some unknown leap of faith here I hoped I landed on my feet across this giant chasm?

Would I regret not moving and trying to make it work if I were to die tomorrow?

Maybe a little stark and morbid as far as a decision-making process goes, but one of the final things mom taught me was that life is short. I’m not ok with arriving at my death and regretting my choices, so if I were to die, would I regret moving or not moving more?

After sitting and thinking about my answer, I realized my answer. Yes. Yes, I would regret not moving. I would regret not trying. I would regret not knowing if it had been the best decision I could have made for myself, or the worst one where I would have to figure out, once again, how to recover from a mistake.

So I moved.

Because I moved I am in the healthiest relationship I have ever been in. Because I moved I now have a renewed sense of family and belonging and home. Because I moved I have grown as a PCT. I am now a CCHT and NFACT certified. I am a CNA on the Nebraska registry and about to begin LPN classes with plans to continue to on to RN. I have attended Academy and plans are being laid for me to become a preceptor for my clinic. Because I moved I have floated to six other clinics and met the patients and teammates of my region.

Because I moved I can hear coyotes at night and see the stars filling the sky. I have found a dojo where I feel I belong and can continue to train.

Because I moved I’ve actually have had the time and space to make real peace with my grief.

So many of the positive events which have happened in my life can be traced back to that one week in the extended stay. So much of my life can be attributed to my choice to venture into the scary unknown and I wouldn’t trade any part of it for the world.

Sometimes you find yourself in the middle of nowhere, and sometimes in the middle of nowhere, you find yourself.

Musing Moment 128: LFTIO – Story 1

Standard
DSS Leadership – Assignment 6.1
Book – “Leadership from the Inside Out”





For the 2-3 most impactful and formative experiences and / or relationships, tell the entire story here:

Story 1 – The Makeup Kit

As hard as it may be to believe, I was once a little girl dressed in pink culotte outfits with twine braids in my hair, fairly carefree and for all accounts, happy. My parents were together. I didn’t question if there would be dinner that night. I played outside and when my clothes were dirty the laundry fairy magically washed them and put them away for me.

It was during this period of care-free, naive, and childish thinking that I had what has been a lasting and significant experience. I had a birthday around the age of six or seven. On this birthday I received a makeup kit as a gift. It was one of those cheap kits where the lipstick is more wax than anything and the eye shadow is much too glittery and the picture of the girl on the box is nothing like the makeup inside the package could ever hope to make you look like, but I loved it. It was my first “makeup” anything. My first “big girl” gift and as a little girl, I thought it was the coolest gift ever.

Since it had so many pieces in it, my dad had told me not to open it until all of our company had left. I always listened to my dad. He was my Superman. My hero. My knight in shining armor. As a child, I adored him and making him happy was always the most important thing, especially because I knew there were consequences if I did something I had been told was wrong.

That particular year, we had family visiting from out of town. I couldn’t remember everyone’s name. They were pretty much strangers to me, though I was told they were family and that they loved me. There was one cousin, an older girl, who really wanted me to open the makeup kit.

“My dad said not to open it. I’m going to get in trouble if I do.” I kept repeating that. Over and over each time she told me to open the package.

“Here. I’ll open it for you. Tell your dad I did it and then you won’t get in trouble.” She said as she took the package from me and proceeded to open it while I stood there. Looking back at it, there are all sorts of things I could have done. I could have gone and gotten an adult. I could have tried harder to stop her. As a small child, confronted with an older, wiser, more adult relative, I stood there instead, hoping that she would be right and that my dad would understand and listen to me and believe me when I explained why the package was already open. She was family after all. She wouldn’t do anything to get me in trouble. So if she said it was ok, then it would be ok, right?

That’s not what happened, though. When my dad saw the package was already opened later in the evening he asked me what had happened. I explained that the older girl had opened it. When he asked me what her name was I couldn’t remember it. He said it wasn’t ok to lie to him. I remember he was furious with me for disobeying him; for disrespecting him. And I, for my part, was crushed because even though I was telling the truth, that I hadn’t been the one to open the package, my knight in shiny armor didn’t believe me. My dad took my birthday present away from me and I never got it back. Ever. I cried myself to sleep that night.

How could my dad not believe me? How could my cousin have done something to get me into trouble? Why was I the one being punished for something I didn’t do? Why would no one believe me?

I know what it’s like to tell the truth and to have it not matter. I know what it’s like to face consequences for someone else’s actions that you tried to stop. It sucks. I feel a lot of my situation had to do with my age at the time. Had I been older would my dad have believed me more? Would he have thought of me less as a child trying to get out of trouble and more like a logical, rational human having a hard time articulating information?

From a very young age, I learned that people are going to believe what they want to believe and that judgment can be clouded by pre-conceived notions. I also learned that while it may not be your fault, you can still be held responsible to other people’s actions.

I try to keep this experience in mind when I personally feel wronged or disrespected or lied to. I try to stop and actually listen to the information being presented to me objectively. I ask questions and I try to get the full story. Not everyone is merely a little kid trying to worm their way out of getting into trouble. Sometimes we’re really telling the truth.