Called To Serve

"I know you're going to love Guatemala and her people. Who knew my kid brother was willing to leave everything he knows: his home, family, friends, girlfriend, dog, car, adn all the comforts that come with it-- for the chance to teach others about our Savior, Jesus Christ, in a language he doesn't speak or understand in a foreign country 2000 miles away? The Lord will do great things through you, and you're going to have the opportunity to bless the lives of so many people. Guatemala is so lucky @colemvalentine. I love you and I am so proud of you for making this selfless and courageous decision. See you in two, Elder! #ElderValentine"

We Cry Too

We are human, and often times people think that we, as nurses, could never understand. But that's incorrect. We do this weekly, daily, sometimes multiple times a day.

Read Me

We shatter too. 

Little World Traveler

Met a new friend on the plane today that described flying between clouds as swimming through a milkshake. She said she never wanted to leave. Kids these days. 👏🏼😂

Wave of Change

Another wave of change is coming.
I've encountered plenty of waves now.
I know only this:
That waves will still keep coming,
and the water will still keep moving.
And nothing ever stays the same.

So love the people you're with a little bit more.
Breathe in deep and take it all in.
And when an opportunity arises, take it.
Because that wave may not come again. 

Disconnect

There is a darkness

In the stillness

Of disconnect.

Everyone and everything

Surrounding you

Connects

But you remain empty.

Purge

I did something good today and took a step in the right direction. I've had to let go of a friend.

It hurts because they said they'd never leave, yet here I am again, alone. It's better this way for both of us, I think. I've hurt over it. In fact, I've been through the five stages of grief over it. Over and over again. 

And today, instead of burning everything in their memory, I packed it all up into a little cardboard box and took the memories to the goodwill to be used by others who can find them useful. And maybe sending them to the goodwill instead of the fiery furnace will be good karma. And maybe, just maybe, I can start healing this wound in my chest; fill its God shape with God, and be at peace. 

31 Days of Gaditude

1. My Therapist.
2. Prayers, unanswered, yet to be answered, and answered all the same.
3. Dogs that love to be loved, and the Humane Society.
4. My college roomate reunions and Drive-In Movies.
5. The temple.
6. Used Book Stores
7. Tom and Chee Mac and Chee Grilled Cheese sandwiches. And people to share them with
8. Patients and families that appreicate the work I do
9. Noodle Dogs
10. Book Binding, Paper Stores, and Friends who teach you new things
11. My little brother.
12. Nashville skyline sunrises on the way to work
13. Spiced Scones Nature Wick Candles
14. Friends who spend the entire day in target with you
15. My Great Aunt and Uncle
16. The ability to change
17. Hugs
18. Being on call and not getting called in
19. J.K. Rowling
20. Sundays
21. Love Notes
22. My Dad
23. A good nights sleep
24. Love notes
25. Friendsgiving in Kentucky
26. Peppermint Bark
27. Benadryl
28. Long drives
29. Thunder Storms
30. Little Ladies who lose their cars in parking lots and hitch a ride with you to find them

A God Shaped Hole.

It's like she has died.

But she is not separate from me. I do not know where she starts and I end. She has become the twin attached to me. I depended on her to make me whole. My self concept and self esteem was defined by her. I was content when she was here and I had her approval. And now that there is this empty space, my anxiety is rising. I feel this intense need to fix it, to patch the hole in me, to salvage what might be left. This loneliness pervades my soul. I live in a shadow.

The distance is eye opening. The past six weeks have been operation after operation of surgically removing every trace of her from me. Without any anesthesia. Without any narcotics. Slowly, meticulously, and I'd like to say, carefully. They tear flesh from flesh, muscle from muscle, bone from bone. I know it's better to be cautious, but part of me wishes they'd just rip this bandaid off and get it over with. I am tender to the touch. I am bruised and sore. I am broken.

It started with a God shaped hole. But I did not fill it with God. I sought belonging and safety and found it. I shared too much of my load and I was trusted with hers too. I couldn't tell my own thoughts or emotions from hers. They were just a continuous flow. I mirrored her. Or she mirrored me. But now I am just myself. Just one. Just me. I thought I could build a home inside a person, but I know now that people are not homes.

I am panicked like a lost child.

It comes and goes-- the anxiety. I do not notice when I have fallen asleep. It races toward me like a train out of control. Every time I wake up I feel the train hit me again. As it pummels through me, it slows-- making sure I notice it is present; making sure I struggle. I feel the panic the white rabbit must feel, running late, counting train cars, and waiting for them to pass through my soul. It is excruciating. I am a restless soul. But I remind myself it is just my thoughts and feelings. I can sit with them and I can breathe.

Even my best coping skills cannot calm me. I have depended on her to shush my worries and be the calm one. Praying is all that works. I pray for my friend. I want her to be happy, to find the self she is searching for, to know I care about her. She is going through a Hell of her own, I'm sure. A Hell that in previous circumstances I would do anything and everything to protect her from. I am human, I know now that I cannot keep the people I care about from pain. It has helped me to remember the good things she has taught me, how safe I felt, and how much progress I have made. I am trying to believe that her opinion of me does not matter and that my self concept and esteem can exist without her approval. It is easier to move forward remembering the good. The more gratitude I feel towards her, the less anxiety I feel.

And one day I will heal. And I will fill this God shaped hole with God instead. 

Expecto Patronum

Some days I just cannot.

I cannot get out of bed, or get dressed, or make myself a bowl of oatmeal. Some days I am lucky to get just one of those things done.

I am not the Energizer Bunny; I am human and I get run down and warn out and spread thin.

I think sometimes people look at others and see their Pinterest Perfect lives and Instagram worthy photographs and think these people have all their shiz together. It ain't a fairytale, that's for dang sure.

Depression is ruthless; Even with the right medication. Even with a great support system. Even when you're doing a really fantastic job at caring for yourself and balancing multiple aspects of your life. Even when you're doing everything right.

I have known this darkness for years now. But it wasn't until recently that I accepted that I could not face it on my own. I've found the right combination of medication after much trial and error. I have found a God send of a therapist who has worked wonders with my stubborn and prideful self. But even still, the darkness comes around. I know how it moves, what it clings to, what it flees from. I've learned but I'm still learning. 
Gosh, there's still so much to learn.

Sometimes it just shows up uninvited and makes itself at home, wrapped around my shoulders. It's heavy, but it's a familiar heavy that blends in so well. Sometimes I don't even realize it has taken residence for days. And then the weight hits, hard and heavy and I end up how I did this morning. It stays well past its welcome, because it was never welcome to begin with. It's not so simple to send it on its "merry" way. Funny to think you could send a darkness like depression on its merry way. Ha. It's not like flipping a light switch on or off. It's changing all the time; clinging to this dark corner, fleeing from one enlightened one. There are always more corners to shed light on. It's a process. There is always progress.

Today I woke up and couldn't move.

I wasn't paralyzed. My body was physically fine.

Mentally, I was drowning. My limbs were lead. My head was deep under water.

I knew I needed to move. I told myself to move. But it took all my energy to do it.

I tried to stand up and slumped to the floor like clay off the pottery wheel.

Sludge.

It was like my body turned into a slug and I was lying there wondering where the hell I had got a hold of polyjuice potion. It wasn't graceful, but it wasn't a bloody mess either. I'm not sure the floor was much more comforting than my bed. It wasn't a carpet or a rug. It was just the cheap linoleum that looks like wood and hides dirt fairly well. Well, it hides it well until you think you've found solace with your cheek on a cold, hard wood floor that isn't clean. Then it doesn't hide anything so well. I wanted it to be comforting, but I am numb. I wanted the cold floor to heal my aching and hollow soul like an ice pack healed my childish bumps and bruises. I stared blankly at the baseboards across the room like a gas gauge on empty. In that moment, there was nothing and no one that could lift this weight from me. It just "demanded to be felt" like feelings so honestly do. I wanted someone or something to wrap its arms around me and tell me that it's okay to feel like this, and that it will get better. I know it's supposed to get better. It has to.

But I feel so ashamed.

The darkness creeps in and tells me I'm nothing. I'm worthless. I'm broken. I'm weak. I'm defective. I'm unloveable. I'm unwanted. I'm alone.

It taunts me and laughs when I question if there is really a single soul that cares.

It screams "Stay down. You've already lost."

It's easy to believe, when there's an elephant sitting on your chest.

In an LDS Conferemce talk, Jeffrey R Holland stated the following:

"In striving for some peace and understanding in these difficult matters, it is crucial to remember that we are living—and chose to live—in a fallen world where for divine purposes our pursuit of godliness will be tested and tried again and again. Of greatest assurance in God’s plan is that a Savior was promised, a Redeemer, who through our faith in Him would lift us triumphantly over those tests and trials, even though the cost to do so would be unfathomable for both the Father who sent Him and the Son who came. It is only an appreciation of this divine love that will make our own lesser suffering first bearable, then understandable, and finally redemptive."

"So how do you best respond when mental or emotional challenges confront you or those you love? Above all, never lose faith in your Father in Heaven, who loves you more than you can comprehend. As President Monson said ... : “That love never changes. … It is there for you when you are sad or happy, discouraged or hopeful. God’s love is there for you whether or not you feel you deserve [it]. It is simply always there.” Never, ever doubt that, and never harden your heart. Faithfully pursue the time-tested devotional practices that bring the Spirit of the Lord into your life. Seek the counsel of those who hold keys for your spiritual well-being. Ask for and cherish priesthood blessings. Take the sacrament every week, and hold fast to the perfecting promises of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. Believe in miracles. I have seen so many of them come when every other indication would say that hope was lost. Hope is never lost. If those miracles do not come soon or fully or seemingly at all, remember the Savior’s own anguished example: if the bitter cup does not pass, drink it and be strong, trusting in happier days ahead."

(You can read the whole address here)

There will be good days, and there will be days when I question my sanity. It's something I'll learn to manage and something, that one day, I hope to overcome. Even when I'm feeling depressed, God's love can still reach me. When I think I'm alone, I can be assured that I am not without Heaven's help. I am grateful for the atonement of Jesus Christ and for the peace and reassurance I can receive when I pray. I love the power in prayer. I know that the Lord hears our prayers and that He answers them. He may not always answer them how we think He ought to, but He will answer them in His own time, in His own way. I'm grateful for the blessings He grants me and for the people He places in my life. He is so patient with me. I know there are mountains to climb, but I'm so glad I'm climbing with Him.

*Depression affects 1 in 10 Americans and is more prevalent than you might realize. It is not something to be ashamed of. If you or someone you know is struggling with depression, visit the Bring Change 2 Mind website for resources made available to you. If you or someone you know are in crisis, please visit Lifeline or call 1-800-273- TALK. The hotline is available 24/7 and is confidential. If you'd like to learn more about what Mormons believe, visit LDS.org.

Tender Mercies Part Nine

Love At First Sight

My girl, Patience, knew how much I wanted a turquoise bookcase so all my beloved books could have a home of their own (they currently live in boxes since the move). I introduced her to a store called Nadeau, and I've frequented the store the past two months, intent on purchasing the perfect bookcase. Shipment after shipment came-- but still, no sign of my inquiry. Well, when I returned from my much needed vacation, I was informed by a little bird that there was a bookcase calling my name. I drove to the store eager to see for myself and when I saw her, my soul could not part with her. She has since been adopted.

Thank goodness for thoughtful friends who love Nadeau as much as me. 

Coral Speaks

Did you know coral makes a popping sound? I snorkeled today and it was like the ocean was breathing-- a whole new world on the ocean floor and it made my heart so happy. 

Airport Thoughts

Traveling is one of my favorite things because it's a time where I can be quiet and contemplative. It makes me happy to get to the airport a little early and browse the book stands just in case I finish my own books, or I decide one of their books could be too much a part of my soul to part with. Books end up becoming dear friends, and I don't feel quite so alone.

Although I must say being alone suits me. There is no need to justify or compare. It's just me in my head-- which could be all sorts of hell, but sometimes if I'm lucky, it's not so hellish and is more like a chance to breathe. Although anxiety doesn't let me exist still and quiet for long, some of the times I'm most at peace are when I can just be quiet and bury myself in my books or stare out a window at the parts of the world I just pass by and never experience.

It sounds sad.

But it's not really. It's comforting being alone. No one can hurt you. No one can love you either.

I'm sure there's a balance in there somewhere and I'm just cleverly hopping from one end of the seesaw to the other. I'm a work in progress. I'll get there.

Sometimes I think about quitting my job to become a dish washer and dog trainer.
Today is one of those days.
It's one of those weeks, actually.
Sometimes I don't know why I chose to be a nurse, because it's nothing like I thought it'd be. 

The Pause

I feel like a semi colon describes this perfectly. Pause, and then action.

Tender Mercies Galore

Sometimes I stress so much.

Like 180 degrees wide.

And I try to force things into working my own way in my own time.

Sometimes it's ignorance. Other times it's just me being selfish.

Sometimes I forget that God has a handle on things.

Even when I don't.

Sometimes you're in a bind and need a place to live and the money to move there and your life feels like a mess because you don't have a place to belong. 

And then it's blatantly obvious God is working behind the scenes. Because He places a post in your Facebook feed about a lease up for grabs and you get home after stressing all day and week and month and open the mailbox to a check that covers the rent for that lease and more. All within a matter of 2 hours. And you think to yourself-- Lord why did I ever question you?

I am so slow to learn.

But I am so grateful that He teaches me.

Miracles

I remember a time when this little munchkin thought she lived in a hospital. The hospital was more home than home was. So much so, in fact, that she would be ecstatic to visit the clinic, hospital, or emergency room at any chance. 

I also remember when she lost her hair to chemotherapy and all the Ugly that came with it. I remember her carrying her infusion pump around with her. I remember her extra appendage of a PICC line in her arm-- there since I had first met her years ago when she had the chicken pox. Thinking back now, it seems so simple what made her happy; chicken broth, being held, dressing up like a princess-- she'd just climb into my arms and snuggle with me. 

I remember getting the news that the first transplant had failed and that she would need a second. I remember pleading with God for a miracle, even though He had already answered that prayer for her older sister months earlier. I hoped she would live, but I was scared she would die. Life is so fragile. Through it all she was positive and happy and even when she didn't feel well and spent the majority of her day over her friendly pink bucket, she did not complain. It was all she had ever known really; being sick.

This month we celebrated her seventh birthday. There was a time I wondered if she'd even live to see her next birthday, let alone her seventh. She's still bright eyed and happy. She's still the little champ I've always known. She still shouts my name and runs to me with her arms open when I come to visit. And I'm just so grateful I have had the chance to learn and grown with this little one and her family.

Her hugs feel like home. And her freckles kill me

Back to School

There's something about the hustle and bustle of back to school season that makes my inner child so excited. And this morning I was thinking about some of my favorite things: Crayola crayons, Ticonderoga #2 pencils, Elmer's glue, brand new pencil cap erasers, and new packs of college ruled lined paper etc. as the back to school commercials and sales pop up everywhere I look it seems.

And then it hit me. IT'S HARRY POTTER SEASON. Fall always brings the magic of Harry Potter and it starts with back to school shopping. And then the excitement of a new beginning, the familiarity of autumn and its sights, smells, and sounds. It's warm and glowing and nostalgic like jackolaterns. 

Fall has always been my favorite. Now I know why. Thanks J.K. Rowling, and Happy Birthday Harry!

Maker of the Stars

"Author of my hope,

Maker of the stars,

Let me be Your work of art,

Won't You write Your story on my heart."

And then she decided to stop wishing on stars and to start praying to her God who created them.

Life Goals

Growing

I was thinking today because there's no telling exactly what my mind will revert to after four shifts in a row and my Jesus music on.

I was thinking about growth. How much I've grown in the past couple years. Not just physically into and adult, but mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and my capacity as a human being in general.

You might have thought I'd say India is what really changed me. 

Or moving across the country to Tennessee and starting my profession.

Or maybe it started way before that when I started nursing school and just started out on my own.

But in reality there is only one real thing that has helped me grow into me: therapy.

Not physical therapy. 

Psychotherapy. 

And if you want to know more about my experiences with therapy, how my relationship with myself, others, and God has been strengthened, or about how therapy has changed me, I'd be happy to tell you about it.

#endthestigma #bringchangetomind

Maybe I'm supposed to be a nomad.

Maybe I'm not supposed to have a place.

Others do.

They have family or friends or a place of their own.

The comfort of familiarity, of stability, of being wanted.

I just exist.

I find myself intruding on the sacred moments of families, on the meditative moments of individuals, in the moments people have welcomed me out of politeness or pity but those same people actually wish I'd just leave them be.

Scuttled from human to human. 

Kept at a distance.

She's different than us. We can't claim her, can we?

Can I really blame them?

I don't actually belong anywhere.

And my hollow self feels the cold shudder and ache of the longing to belong. The emptiness of a heart beating to belong. Begging to belong. 

Desperate?

Despicable.

Don't you know you only lose what you cling to!?

Maybe I try too hard. 

No. 

Maybe I don't try hard enough.

And then it burns hot like ice: Grow up little girl. You don't belong anywhere. Find your own way. 

You'll always be alone.

And dream that Lewis was right.

Double Edged Sword

Nursing 101(13): Tiny Humans

Sometimes days at work drag. They're long and awful and the patient load is hard. 

And sometimes tiny humans come to visit sick grandparents and they just wrap you around their little fingers and think you're the coolest because your job is to make grandpa better. 

And then you let them listen to their heart with your stethescope and then mom's, and dad's, and then grandpa's too. And they call your stethescope "my heartbeat". And it just about melts your heart.

And you sneak them the best strawberry ice cream because it's pink. Just like their little bows and socks. Even though dad already snuck them skittles just a bit earlier. He didn't stand a chance hiding that one from mom. Their white shirts were speckled with rainbow colors.

And sometimes those little tiny humans wave to you from grandpa's room and run to greet you. Sometimes they catapult into your arms and make you feel like you're so so special. 

And then the day you thought was dragging comes to a close. And those tiny humans, well, they made more than just a tiny difference.

When Working on a Holiday

Thank you Paul Kalanithi for using words so eloquently to describe exactly how I feel about my profession.

Untitled

Every Grey's Anatomy "which character are you" quiz I've ever taken, I've been Lexie Grey. I'm pretty sure Meredith is my sister because #relateable (and buzzfeed quiz results don't lie).

Thanks Mer. #onmywavelength

Love, Little Grey.

CCRN

Guess who's the newest certified CCRN!?
This girl. Right here. 

Tender Mercies Part Seven: A Letter to My Friend Ashleigh

Dear Ashleigh,
I'm not sure if I told you this, but there is a gorgeous place here in Tennessee called Cox Road. It's a long and winding road that paints a picture of a beautiful life. There are horses and cattle and cute little houses with lots of land. There are porch swings and tree swings, and miles and miles of possibilities. It's so green Ashleigh, and in the Fall, the colors look like some sort of masterpiece. It is a masterpiece actually. And God paints it all the time. I think the speed limit is something around 55mph. But we both know that everyone puts a lead foot on the pedal. I always want to drive slowly down Cox Road, but there are so many cars moving so quickly, that I can't really do that safely or without making a whole bunch of people really irritated. 
The first time I drove down it, I was on my way to my friend Andrea's house after a really long and hard week working in the ICU. One of those weeks where there are a whole lot more goodbyes than miracles. Being new to the area, I had gotten lost and ended up on this road. The road reminded me of you, because first off, it shares your last name. And second, the Coldplay song, "I Lived", came on just as I started up the road. That song automatically reminds me of you because the first time I heard it was at your memorial service when I watched the movie your friends put together of your trip to Romania. ( Oh how you love that place.) And now, every time I hear it, I can't help but think of you. So now I purposely drive out of my way down Cox Road on the way to visit Andrea, just at a speed faster than I'd like. And quite honestly, faster than the law probably allows for.
Well, with all that in mind, I want to tell you about my Ragnar Race. This past month, I ran a 200 mile relay race from Chattanooga, Tennessee to Nashville, Tennessee. Each of the twelve runners on a team run three legs. When I got to my third leg, I thought I might collapse. I waited for my teammate to finish his leg and slap the slap bracelet onto my wrist in the runner's chute. My anxiety was high like it always is before a race. And my body was so tired and so sore. I'd already run about seventeen miles and I didn't know how I was going to run another seven. So I prayed. (More like begged). I knew I couldn't finish the seven miles alone so I asked God to help me finish my race.
And then God answered almost immediately. My teammate slapped the bracelet on my wrist and I took off like a rocket out of the chute and down the hill. When I reached the bottom, my body was already telling me I had overdone it. Tears welled up in my eyes really quick. It was going to be a really long seven miles. I paused and waited for one of the volunteers to stop traffic so I could cross the road. Then I started back into my run and looked at the road signs. I was running down Cox Road. The same Cox Road that I had wished so many times before that I could slow down and enjoy. The same Cox road that reminds me of you and our friendship and all the things you taught me. And I know you were there. In that moment, at mile one, when I thought that I couldn't go any further. When I didn't know how I was going to finish another seven miles. God blessed me with your memory and your sweet spirit. I know you were there running with me, encouraging me, pushing me, pulling me, lifting me to higher heights. And then I didn't know if my tears were tears of gratitude, or pain, or exhaustion. They were most likely gratitude. Because the rest of that seven miles was a huge prayer of gratitude and just soaking in all that I could of Cox Road before I turned off of it and onto the next chapter of the leg. It was such a tender mercy to me.
It was so good to be with you again, Ashleigh. It felt so good to feel your spirit and to enjoy those sweet miles with you. I will always be grateful to a God that would bless me so graciously in a time of need. I will always be grateful to a God who blessed my life with yours. And I am so grateful that your short lifetime crossed paths with mine. Continue to watch over us. We all love and miss you.

  Love,
Jessie

PS: Happy 24th Birthday!

"The Invisible Boat" and a Tidbit on Codependency

"Picture ourselves standing on the shore. Way across the water is an island called serenity, where peace, happiness, and freedom exist from the despair of alcoholism and other problems. We really want to get to that island, but we've got to find a way to get across the water-- that huge void that stands between us and where we want to be.

We have two choices. In the water is an ocean liner, a cruise ship that looks real posh and cozy. It's called treatment, therapy. Next to it, on the beach, sits a group of odd-looking people. They appear to be rowing a boat, but we can't see a boat, and we can't see the oars. We only see these happy people sitting on a beach rowing an invisible boat with invisible oars. The invisible boat is called Al-Anon. The ocean liner honks, summoning us aboard the treatment and therapy cruise. We can see the people on board; they're happy and waving to us. Then there's these goofy people hollering at us to join them in their invisible boat. Would we choose the liner or the invisible boat? Of course, we'll get on the ocean liner, the luxury cruise. The next thing we know, we're headed towards the island of happiness.

The problem is about mid-way across the water, the ocean liner stops, turns around, and heads back to shore where we started from. Then the captain orders everyone off the ship. When we ask, "Why?" he says, "Our cruise only goes so far. The only way you can ever get to that island is by getting in the invisible boat."

So we shrug our shoulders and walk over to the people in the boat. "Get in!" they holler. "We can't see any boat to get into!" we holler back. "Get in anyway," they say. So we get in, and pretty soon they say, "Pick up an oar and start rowing." "Can't see any oars," we holler back. "Pick'em up and start rowing, anyway!" they say. So we pick up invisible oars and start rowing, and pretty soon, we see the boat. Before we know it, we see the oars too. Next thing we know, we're so happy rowing the boat with the goofy people we don't care if we ever get to the other side. "

-- an excerpt from Codependent No More by Melody Beattie

We were not made to be reactionary. We were made to be revolutionary. 

I was not made to be codependent. I was made to be my own person. With my own needs, desires, and decisions. And as I learn to recognize these patterns, stop them, and place a new strategy in their void, I will become revolutionary. I may not be a revolutionary to the world, but I will be revolutionary to my world. And that's all that really matters. The view is only going to get better from here.

#Overachiever

Today I called off work in anticipation of taking the GRE. When I got there, the receptionist asked for my name and ID.

She checked the list once.

She checked the list twice.

ANXIETY.

"Do you have another last name?" She asked. 

"No."

She checked the list a third time, while I checked my confirmation email. 

I sighed. 

Don't worry everyone. It was my bad. My #overachiever self just showed up to take the GRE a month early. Didn't want to be late, you know?

Double Digit Run

I did great til mile 8. Slid into home base face first, scratched up my right side pretty well, but got up and kept on going. My legs are noodles. But I did it. 

And I'm getting stronger every day.

Tender Mercies Part 6

I lost five patients in four days.

Death was busy collecting souls.

On my fourth day, I sat in my car before work and couldn't get out. My anxiety was a nine out of ten and my body felt heavy from the emotional load of an increase in patient deaths. The week had been a roller coaster and my mind was an out of control carousel; but this was no amusement park. Some sick nightmare if you would.

I prayed in my car and ask God to please help me be less anxious. Enough to get me into work because I knew death was waiting for my patient upstairs on the 6th floor; But if I could just get to work and get started on my day, my anxiety would subside and things would work out. I also felt incredibly lonely. So I also asked Him to please find a way to show me that I'm loved. I took a deep breath, turned off KLOVE that was playing on my radio, and set on my half mile walk to work. 

The day went fast, and my anxiety was near non existent. But I still had no sign that day to remind me that I was loved. I gave my patients their last bath, prepared them to meet their Savior, and tried to comfort families that couldn't be comforted. I remind myself that I gave my patients dignified deaths, because sometimes that is all that comforts me.

And I remember thinking; Father I chose this profession so I could be an instrument in your hands, and I know your way is best-- but does it have to be this way. Does he have to die now? Could she see her family one last time? Who is going to walk Claire down the aisle? Who is going to take Alaina fishing? Who is going to be Trey's number one fan at T-ball games? What will happen to their homes and their spouses and to the plans they made? Life has been so good to them. Is this really the end of their journey here? 

When their final breath becomes only air and the family leaves after their goodbyes, I prepare their body for the morgue. There on the counter was a letter addressed to me. A simple thank you written in his daughter's shakey handwriting. She was an ICU nurse herself. She knew the prognosis long before her family could come to terms with it. I felt her love and appreciation for me. And I knew again that I had chosen the right profession. I knew this is where the Lord wanted me to be. 

God is on the move.

Hallelujah.

He is waiting and ready to bless us abundantly if only we ask. 

Life of Pi

" Faith in God is an opening up, a letting go, a deep trust, a free act of love-- but sometimes it was so hard to love... Despair was a heavy blackness that let no light in or out. It was a hell beyond expression. I thank God it always passed... The blackness would stir and eventually go away, and God would remain, a shining point of light in my heart. I would go on loving."

--Yann Martel

Runner's High

I just got back into running high mileage consistently in preparation for my Ragnar Relay in May. 

Needless to say there have been days where I've stayed in bed and told myself "just five more minutes, or ten, or sixty." And there have been days when Liz has had to give me a boost out the door with some crazy mantra to get me moving. 

And today I needed a boost. So Liz gave me a boost. Love her. 

And then I ran 7 miles instead of the 6 miles I had planned. And I shouted at every mile, "I love running! I love hills! I am responsible for loving myself!" That's when it clicked. The "runner's high". 

The truth is, after mile 3 another mile is nothing. Another mile is just around the corner. Another mile is just a couple more steps. And I'm no longer running. I'm flying. And I'm free. And I'm shouting crazy mantras into the air while all the other runners, bikers, and dog walkers stare at me like a mad woman. 

I am responsible for loving myself. 

So I run.

My Relationship With Books

Bliss

Swing Sets and Taylor Swift.

I can breathe again.

Nursing 101 (Part 12)

Some days, I want to quit being a nurse. Some days it's hard. And I read this post on a blog recently that I feel sums up the feelings quite well. Thanks Brie Gowen.  

Therapy and Covenants

Taking the Sacrament: Spiritual Boost:: Attending Therapy: Emotional Boost

In other words, Therapy is so very good for my soul.