Tidings of Comfort and Joy?

         20 babies and 6 adults were murdered this month. I just found out that today (Christmas Eve), 2 firefighters were slaughtered and 2 other firefighters are injured from what appears to be a trap to lure them in and kill them.  As if that wasn’t enough this Christmas Eve, a police officer and a bystander died from wounds suffered in a parking lot shootout in Texas. Earlier this month, there was a shooting in an Oregon mall that was packed with holiday shoppers. According to CNN, even the mall Santa had to drop down to keep from getting shot. And these are just a few of the headline stories! What about the world news? Do I even need to mention the unrest and violence going on around the globe? What about the local news stories of murders, car accidents, and kidnappings?

            What comfort and joy?

            Many a Christmas family gathering will be torn apart when the conversation turns to gun laws, foreign policy, the last election, or the fiscal cliff we will be going over. We are all worried. Taxes are rising. The economy is still crawling by. Our healthcare system is going to be completely changed, and no one knows exactly WHAT will happen.

            On a personal note, I have friends battling cancer and other illnesses. Some are unemployed and are unsure what this New Year will bring. There is suffering everywhere. Life is uncertain. People get sick. People die. Just driving to the store is a dangerous proposition.

            Where is the peace on Earth, goodwill toward men? Not here.

            I believe in the Christmas story. I respect all different beliefs, but I have chosen to believe there is a God. Underneath the tinsel and the lights there is a deeper meaning. For some, this deeper meaning is family and giving. I love that. I agree. For others, Christmas is a stupid holiday and a waste of money. It is getting easier and easier to be completely cynical. It comes down to a choice.

            Christmas means hope. Christmas means this nasty horrible planet we are living on is not the end. Even if you don’t believe it, you must admit that the idea of God coming down to this terrible place to save us is appealing. I have chosen to believe this is true. I cling to the fact that this life is not all there is. I have to.

There is still good in the world. The firefighters, the police, and the paramedics/EMT’s that put their life on the line and see unspeakable horrors give me comfort. My fellow nurses, the doctors, the nurse’s aids, and all the hospital staff dealing with very sick and dying people with compassion day in and day out give me comfort. The men and women of our military that sacrifice so much to keep evil out of our country give me comfort. My family and friends that have proven that they have my back no matter the situation give me comfort.

This year we have to look hard to find comfort and joy, but it is there! I wish that on a personal level that you can find it this Christmas.

“Then the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord! And this will be the sign to you: You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger.’And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying:

‘Glory to God in the highest,

And on earth peace, goodwill toward men!’”

Merry Christmas!

            

Lights! Camera! Massacre?

                I love going to the movies. I love the experience of sitting in a dark theater, and spending the next 2 hours transported into a different time and place. I love the surround sound. Someday I will overdose and die happily on movie popcorn. I even love watching the previews for movies soon to come. Going to the movies for me is a chance to let my guard down, relax with friends, consume empty calories, and admire various attractive gentleman actors.

                The movie experience was attacked.

                We are all horrified at the event that took place in Colorado during “The Dark Knight Rises” premiere. I think those of us that go to the movies on a regular basis are even more shaken.

                The shooting happened at a midnight showing which changes the dynamics. People that go the midnight showing of a premiere are typically hardcore movie buffs. The atmosphere was sure to be festive. The long awaited conclusion of the Batman trilogy is here! People were there to relax and enjoy. It was more like a party. This has made the shooting all the more horrifying and violating.

                I myself just saw “The Dark Knight Rises”. I enjoyed it thoroughly, and honestly look forward to owning it and seeing it repeatedly. When the credits started to roll, however, an unexpected thought came to me.

There is an entire group of people that didn’t live to see the end of this movie.

                It is human nature to be sad, scared, and angry at such an event. It is also human nature to blame.

                As soon as the news of this massacre sunk in, my next thoughts were “Will we now have to be stripped searched to go into the theater? Will we have TSA like security now? Here comes the blame game”.  

                And the blame game has started indeed! Should we have more gun laws? Because somehow more laws will make things better. Should we make concealed weapons more available? Because somehow in a dark, noisy, crowded theater with gas bombs going off, a disoriented layperson will no doubt be able to shoot the perpetrator no problem.

                OH! And lets ban costumes in the theater! Somehow that will keep us safe! Costumes are bad! Never mind that the suspect in this case was wearing freaking body armor NOT a costume.

                I know! How about the parents of this psychopath! Lets blame them! Somehow they should have told someone that their son was…uh…disturbed? Because we all want a police force that runs around investigating reports of “disturbed people”.

                It is human nature to blame and I get that. Blame means there was a cause. We want a cause because it means we might be able to control it. Somehow the fact that this was caused by a true psychotic individual that could not by any reasonable means be stopped just isn’t acceptable. We must make more laws! We must have more guns! Less guns! We must do something! We must blame someone! We must have control.

                Ah control! How we humans love control! We love to live in this façade that we have control of things around us. There are certain elements that we can control yes. We can take steps to make sure the odds of control are in our favor. Ultimately, however, events like this tragedy remind us that sometimes shit happens. As much as we try, sometimes some crazy person with a gun will kill a bunch of people because it is fun.

                I guess my thesis here is to feel free to discuss this tragedy and how it can be prevented, but don’t leave your head behind. Let’s stay real people. (For instance, banning costumes. Really?) Don’t let your fear and paranoia steal your freedom or peace of mind…or your movie experience.

 (SIDE NOTE: Not sure where to put this so I will shove it here. I DO THINK that we should consider not allowing children to midnight premiers of PG-13 or R movies. This has nothing to do with the massacre and certainly has nothing to do with preventing such events, but I am frustrated that children were allowed into the theater. A 6 year old is dead who should have been in bed at that time of night. No blame here. I don’t judge her parents. I am not even going to touch the whole movie rating thing even though there is no way in hell I would allow my 6 year old to see Batman due to content. But what adult wants to sit with a child at ANY late night or midnight movie? I think between certain hours no children should be allowed into anything but G or PG movies. Period.)

My heart hurts for the families and the survivors. My thoughts and prayers are with them.

It’s Good To Be The Nurse…

Last year at this time, I was pinned as a graduate nurse. Looking back on that day, I am astounded at how far I have come, and how graduating was truly just the beginning.

The day I graduated nursing school was one of the proudest days of my life. The day I took the NCLEX was one of the most terrifying days of my life. The day I found out I PASSED the NCLEX was the most joyful day of my life. After I took the NCLEX, it took 3 days for the California Board of Nursing to post the results. 3 days I never want to relive. I was told that the Board of Nursing posted online the new licenses at 4am in the morning. Guess what I was doing? I was checking at about 4am in the morning.  When I would check and nothing would appear my heart would sink and the agony would begin for another day.

Then at about 5am on the morning of June 30^th, I woke up, grabbed my itouch, and my blurry eyes searched the site. On the tiny screen of the itouch I saw something I had not seen before on my previous searches. My name with the initials RN. Felicia Ann Lubecki, RN. I am not ashamed to say my heart skipped beats, my head started whirling, and the tears began to flow down my face. I wanted to scream, shout, run, dance, climb the walls, skydive, etc. I was done. I did it.

This was the beginning of a new challenge. Job hunting.

Here I am one year later, and thankful to be one of the few that have managed to find a job as a new grad nurse. Not only a job, but my first job. In some ways this has been a curse. Not only have I had to learn how to be a nurse, I have also had to learn what it means to be part of the work force. I have learned how to clock in, how to have a 30 minute lunch, how to keep your stuff out of the way in a crowded break room, play nice with the co-workers, etc. I am also going to flat out say it is nice to have a paycheck. Really nice. Okay it is freaking awesome.

Nothing really prepares you for being an RN. When something goes wrong, and everyone is looking at YOU for answers, it can be hard to swallow. The RN is the absolute center of care. Doctors come up and ask you for updates and rely on the accuracy of your information to choose treatment. You are constantly getting bombarded with lab personnel, respiratory therapists, radiologists, and all other staff you can think of who want guidance regarding the patient. As a student I was one of those being guided. RN means I am doing the guiding.

Leaving school and starting your first RN job is like being a baby bird and getting shoved out of the nest. Either you are going to start flying or you will plummet to the ground below.  Sometime along the way, you will begin to plunge. Guaranteed. You have to learn to reach out for the helping hands to stop you from falling. (And if needed, demand those helping hands). So much of being an RN is knowing who to ask for help, knowing your resources, and knowing what you DON’T know.

There are many days when I am overwhelmed. There are days when I truly wonder why I didn’t become a park ranger instead. I hate dealing with doctor’s egos, angry and bossy family members, combative patients, drug seekers, non compliant patients that don’t take their medications and end up in and out of the hospital on my tax dollar, and a million other little things only another nurse would understand. However, there are also a million little moments that only a nurse sees.

When a frail old lady grabs your hand because she is scared out of her mind at what is happening to her. Those moments after a person gets a terminal diagnosis, and you just sit with them while they try and process what was just said. The WW 2 veteran with no family that hugs you and tears up when it is time for him to be discharged. The last few moments of someone’s life when you let them know it is ok to let go...

Saying you are a nurse, and being a nurse are two very different things. Some RN’s are burnt out and cranky. Some don’t have the common sense to save their life or anyone else’s. Some are there to get their paycheck only, and do the bare minimum required of the job. Most, however, are truly amazing individuals that rise to any circumstance. We are as different as anyone can possibly imagine, but we have one thing in common. We know what it is to be in the trenches of humanity. While others run away at the sight and smell of sickness and death, we stay.

It’s good to be the nurse…

A Place of Refuge

It is no secret I am what you could call obsessed with a nearly 1,200 square mile area of the Sierra Nevada called Yosemite National Park. I was telling someone the other day about my summer vacation plans, and the plans all revolved around this one place. The response? “You must really like Yosemite”! Um…yes, I really like Yosemite.

While other babies spend their 1^st birthdays in a nice clean house with parents that let them go head first into a cake, I spent my first birthday crawling around a Yosemite Valley campground eating dirt and chasing squirrels. (Actually the squirrels tried to steal my food and crawl on me much to my father’s irritation). While other people spend their 21^st birthday bar hopping and getting smashed, I spent mine on top of Half-Dome eating hostess cupcakes for birthday cake. Many of my life events were spent in Yosemite.

I think everyone has a place. A place where the world and all its problems are far away. A place where you can take inventory of your life, and realize that you are truly just a small part of a huge universe. A place for perspective. A place to dust off the weariness that day to day life brings. Mine is Yosemite. This is not to say Yosemite is safe. In fact, I think that is part of its appeal to me. It is an unforgiving wilderness. Don’t let the Ahwahnee Hotel fool you. People get swept down waterfalls and fall off granite cliffs on a fairly regular basis. Nature demands respect that our soft pampered lifestyles do not understand.

Somehow we think that we must defeat anything remotely uncomfortable. This is not a new idea to us homo sapiens. Thank goodness for people like John Muir who dedicated his life to preserve wilderness in a culture that wanted to destroy it. We have come a long way from the days with regularly scheduled bear feedings for the public to watch. The philosophy was to either tame or obliterate nature for our pleasure. Many wanted to turn Yosemite Valley into something akin to an amusement park...some still do. Even worse are those who want to turn parts of the National Park into a dam to send water to San Francisco! Oh wait…they did that. Can you say Hetch Hetchy?  

For those of you who have never been backpacking, let me describe it for you. After you have been on the trail for 3 days, you are stiff, dirty, and tired. You smell like bug spray, sunscreen, and body odor. Your skin is covered in layer upon layer of dirt that has been ground into your pores. Your hair is oily and sticking to your scalp. You are ravenous for a hot meal of carbohydrates and protein. You can’t wait to shower, scrub down, and slip between the clean crisp sheets of a soft bed to sleep for at least 14 hours. How does this sound appealing?

Because you climbed waterfalls. You braved sheer rock cliffs. You slept on untarnished ground. Instead of fighting nature, you became part of it. You discover a world that exists without you controlling it. A world bigger then yourself.  At the end of your adventure, you feel at your very core satisfied. You feel alive.

John Muir said, “Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul”.

 
I fully understand that a good tromp into nature is not everyone idea of a good time. I was born and raised in the forest, so being around rocks, trees, and dirt is second nature. I feel very claustrophobic in the city. Trapped. Everyone has different comfort zones, and mine is NOT surrounded by concrete, noise, asphalt, and buildings.

In fact, I ask a favor of you. Tread carefully, respectfully, and, if nature isn’t your thing, stay out. People die in Yosemite every year because they do not respect or understand the wilderness they have entered. If you do visit, stay on marked trails and read signs. Don’t swim above a waterfall. Stay behind retaining walls even if you think you could get “the perfect picture” by climbing over it. Obey the rangers and use them as a resource. Know your limits. Still not your thing? Six Flags is great this time of year!

I don’t know of any words that really express how I feel when I am in Yosemite Valley. There is something about being surrounded by granite cliffs and waterfalls that is calming. Reassuring.  Energizing. Addicting. There is something unique about the Yosemite wilderness that is unlike any other. It is the one place on the face of the planet that when I am there, I don’t want to be anywhere else.

 John Muir summed it up best when he said “Yosemite Park is a place of rest, a refuge from the roar and dust and weary, nervous, wasting work of the lowlands…”

Exactly.

One Life to Live

      Anyone who says they have only one life to live must not know how to read a book.  ~Author Unknown

Books are the closest thing we have to entering another world, to time travel, or to parallel universes. A great book leaves you tired. Exhausted even. When you put a book down after the conclusion, it takes a split second the reorient yourself to your existence.  Depending on how epic the book is you just finished, you also feel…sad. An odd feeling of depression seems to hang over you once you leave the universe made up of ink, paper, and your mind.

According to my mother, when I was about 3, I grabbed a book, and demanded to be taught how to read. Dick and Jane books were my first novels. The first word I could read? “Look”. When I was about 4 I could “read” (aka recite) the entire book “Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel” to my then infant brother. I remember being about 6 or 7, dad coming home from a long day at work, and he would read some of “The Hobbit” by J.R.R. Tolkien to Sean and me. I remember my little girl imagination getting so wrapped up in the words dad would read and, as only a child could do, get totally lost in them. When dad would stop reading (it was typically bed time), I still remember the feeling of being jolted back to Earth.

                At some yard sale when I was about 10, my mother picked up a Nancy Drew mystery book for $0.25. I remember being so taken with this book, I hid it with my Bible to take to church that weekend. (Yes I did get scolded for reading it in church). This was my first experience of being locked in a world not my own that I could access myself (dad didn’t have to read it to me), and not wanting to leave it. I wanted more. This led me to an entire new experience. The “junior” section of the library! I quickly learned while the library didn’t have a limit on the number of books I could check out, my mother did. ;) Apparently you can’t come home with 40 books at a time when you have chores and homework to do.

                The best way I know how to describe the way I read is I devour books. When I go into a library or bookstore, I am like a starving kid at an all you can eat buffet. I don’t know how to pace myself. During nursing school, my first stop after the conclusion of every semester was the library. I would hide my textbooks, and read pure fiction having NOTHING to do with nursing. Freedom. I am also nostalgic about a physical book made of paper. Book readers (i.e. kindles) have their place, but I feel the need to be able to turn pages. I guess the danger of paper cuts adds to the excitement…

As tacky as this is, this blog was inspired by the fact I recently finished a series that I reminded me why I read. I am oddly sheepish to say that…yes…it was “The Hunger Games”. *ducks for tomatoes* Yes it is for “young adults” and I outgrew the young adult section when I was 16. Yes, my need to read it was brought on by the movie. *cringes again* But I will also admit I have recently not been reading. Work, TV, movies, and yes, the internet have been my distracters. (Oh I have other excuses! I work odd hours and the library isn’t open when I can go. I used to stop by Borders regularly and they are now out of business, etc.)

                My point of this particular rambling? Pick up a book again. Every year I reread all 6 Jane Austen novels and “The Lord of the Rings”. The first quarter of this year is already gone and I haven’t touched anything. *hides in shame*

               Already reading? Go support a local library. Read to a child. Find a book drive for a local school and donate. In this world of virtual worlds and constant stimulation, children, teenagers, and yes…even adults, need reminding what it means to curl up with a book.

The ironic and witty Jane Austen herself says it best:

                 “The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid.” ― Jane Austen

Go and live another life that you will only find in the pages of a book…

If you're Irish and you know it...

                St. Patrick’s Day is upon us! A day to lie about how Irish you are, wear green, and add whiskey to everything.  Many will eat corned beef, cabbage, and of course…potatoes. Some of us will dust off our copy of the old movie “The Quiet Man”, and others will watch clips of Riverdance on youtube.

                As most already know, I have Irish blood flowing through my veins and I am insanely proud of it. I can’t tell you what percentage. I don’t know when my ancestors came over from Ireland. I only know my mother’s maiden name screams Irish, and her fair skin and red hair meets the stereotype. I have never step foot in Ireland, and I know many of my perceptions of Ireland are probably ignorant and stereotypical.  I have tried to educate myself on at least some of the basics. For example:

-Corned beef and cabbage is truly an American invention. The Irish immigrants who came to the U.S.  ate it because it was cheap.

-There are 3 leaves on a shamrock…NOT FOUR.   

Honestly, the $1 green beads you picked up at the grocery store, and the leprechaun hat you bought at walmart is fun, but like most holidays, missing the significance. I am not catholic, and I don’t know anything about Saints days. I do know, however, that I adore looking deeper into a culture and a people that have survived so much hardship. The Irish are a poor people. For a long time they were a suppressed and abused people whose culture was almost stamped out. When they immigrated to the U.S., they fought more prejudice. (Does “No Irish Need Apply” sound familiar?) Forgive me from stealing this quote from Wikipedia but I think it explains it best.

“…the American stigma on domestic work suggested that Irish women were failures who had “about the same intelligence as that of an old grey-headed negro.” This quote illustrates how, in a period of extreme racism towards African Americans, society similarly viewed Irish immigrants as inferior beings”.

The Irish were looked at as dirt.

I love the Irish culture because it tells a story of people that survived. Because of their extreme history, there is no moderation in Irish emotions. The Irish are known for their deep melancholy. (Have you ever heard an Irish lament? By the end you feel like your very soul is weeping). It is a culture that knows what it is to starve to death and be persecuted.

In contrast, when the Irish are happy, it is more like euphoria. (Have you ever heard an Irish jig? If you don’t smile, stomp your foot, and feel like life is good by the end of it you probably don’t have a pulse).  I think the ability to experience joy is proportionate to how much sorrow one has dealt with. The Irish people have certainly suffered, but their ability to celebrate life is infectious. This is not a new idea as evidenced by the following:

 “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling, sure 'tis like a morn in spring.

In the lilt of Irish laughter you can hear the angels sing,

When Irish hearts are happy all the world seems bright and gay,

And When Irish Eyes Are Smiling, sure, they steal your heart away.”

            My overall point is that among the cheap four leaf clovers and the green beer, is a story. A story of strength and the tenacity of the human spirit. It is about people that have experienced hell, and love life all the more because of it. This is a lesson we all should take to heart...

Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig oraibh! (St. Patrick’s Day Blessing On You!)

Demons, Pet Peeves, and Running...

I love running. Many people think I am insane and ask with a bewildered look on their face “why do you run?”. If you have to ask you don’t get it. Essentially, however, I run to keep my demons at bay. These demons take all sorts of shapes and forms. Now before you call the men in white coats let me describe these demons.

                The first demon I run from is called anxiety. This demon haunts me. It effects everything I do to some degree. I am naturally a control freak in an uncontrollable world. Running fights this demon from taking over my mind. Running gives me mental clarity and keeps me out of the fog of worry.

                I run from the demon of a hospital gown. I work on a cardiac unit, I stand behind the care we give, but I don’t want to be a patient. I am running from diabetes, heart disease, obesity, and overall bad health. I want to live a long and full life, and running helps me do that.

                I run from the demon of passivity. Running is the opposite of being passive. Running requires me to make a conscious decision to move. It requires me to push through pain. It requires that I get off my lazy butt and do something.

                I run from the demon of physical limitations. I love hiking. I love backpacking. I love to move. Without running to prepare me, I am physically restricted. I hate the feeling of watching others more athletic than me climb mountains and do things I can’t. I hate the look of joy on others faces while they get to live life to the fullest, and I am too out of breath to continue.

Now that I have explained to you WHY I run, I want to educate you on some runner’s pet peeves.

1.       A marathon is 26.2 miles. A Half-marathon is 13.1 miles. A 10K is 6.2 miles and a 5K is 3.1 miles. When you sign up for a 5K fun run and say “Oh yeah I ran a marathon this weekend”, it makes us mad and it makes you look stupid. When you say “I ran a marathon that was 6.2 miles”, it shows your ignorance and we laugh at you.

2.       We hate it when you say “Run, Forest! Run!”. It isn't funny. Shut it.

3.       People who can't/won’t control their dogs. Keep them close. If they snarl, step away from the sidewalk. I don’t want dogs coming into my path as I run by. Just cause you love your dog doesn't mean i do too.

4.       Dog poo. What is wrong with you dog owners? Clean up after your pet. No runner wants to dodge dog poo and having to clean it off our shoes makes us livid.

5.       If a race says no dogs, don’t bring your dog to the race. If a race says yes to dogs, and has a special start area, use the start area. Why do you think that the rules don’t apply to you just cause your dog “is really sweet and loves people”? Follow the rules.

6.       People who ask me how my last 5k marathon was. See #1.

7.       When you are running a race, and people yell “you are almost there”! Your idea of almost there is not mine. Shut-it. It isn't helpful.

8.       When you tell someone you run, and they immediately say “oh running is so bad for you.” Running is better for you then that candy bar you just ate. You just wish you could run too.

9.       When you are walking, please be aware of faster people coming up behind you and kindly move.

10.   People at races who line up near the front, then jam things up in the first quarter-mile of the course by walking or running very slowly. Worse: Slow runners who line up near the front, then saunter along with one or more companions, side-by-side, three across. Usually chatting loudly about something stupid.

Can’t run? Walk. A 14 minute mile and 7 minute mile is still a mile. No matter how slow you go, you are still lapping everyone sitting on the couch. Do me a favor, and don't regale me with all the reasons why you don't run or walk.

Running is a mental sport, and we are all insane…

Tis the season...

Tis the season for Felicia to get restless. Edgy. Fidgety. Uneasy. It is the season of planning trips, but not yet getting to enjoy them. It is the season of waiting for rain and snow, and once you get it, dealing with the rain and snow. It is the time of year where the joys and festivities of the holidays are truly over. All of us Christmas lovers have FINALLY packed up ALL the decorations, and tons upon tons of cookies are finally gone.   Valentine’s day puts up a pathetic attempt at something to celebrate, but it truly is the doldrums.

                Some could also call this “cabin fever”. I tend to look longingly at the new summer apparel coming out, and I can’t wait to pull out the flip-flops, tank tops, and shorts. The hiking guidebooks have a tendency of appearing all over the house, and REI goes back to a frequently visited website. I start scouring the web looking for spring/summer road races to plan winter training runs.

                To stay sane, I am the kind of person that needs to be outdoors. The weather has been quite fair in California this winter so far, but I have not really been able to appreciate it. Work has kept me busy, and it is hard to plan a good ole’ camping trip when you expect a winter storm any day. (I do not go winter camping). I can’t wait till spring, but considering we have had little precipitation, spring is going to be quite brown and dry. *sigh*

                I shall deal with this stage of life the way the way I do every year. I shall continue to plan, I will start concentrating on getting myself physically ready for summers challenges, and I will try my best to appreciate every day as it comes. It is amazing how we can’t ever seem to live in the present.

                Is it June yet?

Occupational Hazards

          It was my 3^rd day on the floor of the cardiac unit. I was having some confidence issues to say the least. This lack of confidence was beginning to eat at me, and started to become very apparent. I was starting to feel like I was a total failure. My mentor nurse was a fabulous woman who sat me down and told me something so simple but so profound it has stuck with me since.

“You are not your job.”

In this society, our very identity seems to come from what we do for a living. I suppose this is a logical course of thought considering what we decide to do with a majority of a time can say a lot about us. For instance, park rangers are typically going to be people that like the outdoors…or at least don’t mind it. Law enforcement officers are typically people that don’t mind walking down dark alleys with unsavory people lurking in them. I know there are exceptions to everything, but certain types of people are drawn to certain types of jobs. Stereotypes come from some truth. 

             As someone who recently was in the job hunt, job hunting is depressing. Not having employment takes a huge chunk from your self-esteem. For obvious reasons, being able to provide for yourself is not something to take lightly. Starving can’t be fun. Having said this…

             While a job is vital, your job does not define you. A rude and bitter person is a rude and bitter person whether they sweep floors or perform brain surgery.  A content optimistic person is a content optimistic person whether they fix cars or sit behind a desk all day. Your personality can attract you to a profession, but the profession does not define you.

           We tend to get lost in titles. The longer and more prestigious the title, somehow the more valuable a person is. Essentially, we are nothing but a bunch of imperfect humans dealing with imperfect humans. I think this fact is shown most intensely in healthcare. We expect health professionals to fix us no matter what we have self-inflicted on our fragile bodies. Health professionals feel this expectation, and we do want to fix people. We feel like failures if we can’t…sometimes like we fail as a person.

           The point of all this, is to take pride in good honest work, but realize your work is not your identity. I am sure most people already realize this, but I am learning this now especially as a nurse. In my particular profession, I see people that live and breathe nursing and when they have a bad day they internalize it. I do love nursing, but I want to work to live, not live to work. I want to do the best job I can, but be able to go home and not feel like I failed at life if things don’t go perfect. (And remember that successes at work don't necessarily equal a successful life). Again, this seems to be a trap healthcare professionals especially tend to fall into. (We want to fix when no one but God can truly fix).

           Not sure if any of this makes sense to anyone but me. (This is the RAMBLINGS of Felicia after all). I guess it all goes back to remembering what truly matters in life. Family, friends, and being a decent human no matter what you do. When you die, people are going to remember one thing and it is not how sucessful you were in society or how much money you made. It is kindness.