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.