About winknbees

I love hard, cry hard, and learn everyday. There's nothing in this world I wouldn't do for my babies.

Rotations continue

I have one more week and then this rotation will be in the books. As these past several weeks have gone by I’ve found myself discouraged. I know that hospitals are necessary, I know that many medicines are necessary as well. I know people get sick and people die. But. But how can I help? What difference can I make? Any at all?? I wonder how these became so sick? What happened? Some of them seem like they just don’t care anymore. When did they give up? When did they lose hope?

And then… am I being overly critical? Am I really any better? Sure, I’m healthy, for now. Sure, I think I have my act together. But really? Three years ago? Four or Five? Did I have my act together then? Not really. I had some who would ask me why I put up with so much? Why did I stay for so long? Why didn’t I leave when things went bad? I’ve been asked why didn’t I change things back then? Why?? Why did I stay 25 years with a man who couldn’t love me?… these questions are kind of like asking someone why do you bother breathing? Why do you bother eating? There’s no real answer except it seemed the right thing to do at the time… (Please don’t stop breathing or eating, by the way.)

So, an outsider, someone who hadn’t lived in my shoes, who hadn’t any way to compare her life to mine, would probably wonder why I didn’t change for so long. I wish I had an answer. I wish I did. If I did then maybe I could help another lady find the answer too. I know, in part, some of the reasons. For one, I loved him despite everything. For two, I had hope for things to get better. (It wasn’t until I gave up hope that things started to change.) Three, I felt like it was wrong to leave… no… matter… what. The church is very vocal about leaving a marriage. (And because of that, many, many women are still in abusive marriages, with no hope for a way out, thinking that somehow they can pray their husbands to treat them well… But that’s another post.)

And so I think of the patients I have met these past two months… Did they decide to quit? Or give up? Is it too hard to dream of better things again? Does it hurt too much and they just want it all to end? I see the man or woman who is my own age and at the same time I see them as they may have been as a healthy child… or if not a healthy child, as a child with hopes and dreams, none the less.  I guess, the hardest thing, is seeing each individual as a person, a creation of God, who, for some reason or another finds himself or herself in a lonely hospital bed staring at the ceiling with wires and tubes attached everywhere wondering what on earth to do next. I wish I could show them a picture of themselves when life was good and full of possibilities and dreams, so that I could remind them that they don’t have to give up. I want to remind them that they are worth the effort of getting well. I want to be able to sit with them and listen to them and to give them hope again.

How? As a student I have no power, and I have no permission to just talk to them. So, with determination, I move on, and I continue to dream. Partly to dream of the day when I am no longer the pee-on that I am and am able to do exactly that. Until then, I offer them a smile, a soft touch, or a gentle ear when I can.

thank you for reading,

me

 

Sunshine and Rotations

I’ve been busy these past couple of weeks. It’s like I barely have time to breathe. As a Student Pharmacist I am required to do rotations, and the last year of school is all rotations. I’m not complaining. I love it! I love actually having a chance to use all of the things I’ve learned. I love being able to work with real patients, real people, real lives. It’s hard work. This rotation is in the hospital environment and so my patients are sick, really sick. If I can do something that helps them to get better or to feel better so that they can go home then I have done well.

Each person, each patient, is so very individual. There is no one who is treated exactly the same because no one is exactly the same. Pharmacy is intricate. I love it. This week I’ve already been touched by the lives of dozens of people. Elderly mothers, grandmothers, great grandmothers… in their 80s and 90s. Men who are forced to the hospital by their wives. People who suffer chronically from pain. And people who have lived such lives that it’s not a surprise they show up in the emergency room.

I look on and I wonder how they got there. I wonder what went wrong, what could make them better. It’s not all about the medicine. There’s a man who is an alcoholic and now has nowhere to go, another who is recovering from cancer, a lady who doesn’t qualify for a transplant. There are many who go home well, and there are others. These others who now have to face the end of their time here. Who now have to face the reality of death. Life is 100% fatal and there’s no way around it.

I’m reminded to be grateful for my health and yet I am also reminded that my health is not a mistake. I work hard for it. I eat healthy food, lots of fresh fruits and vegetables. I drink a lot of water. I take the stairs frequently. I exercise. I sleep… I try to balance my life in a way that keeps me healthy. It’s not an accident. Health is only maintained on purpose. Sure, there are things we cannot control, but those in the hospital? Most of them had more control than they knew. Most of them could have prevented themselves from needing to be there. The smoker could have quit, the obese woman could have gotten help sooner, the alcoholic as well.

So, I wonder, as I go there each day, how did things go wrong? What happened? Why did these people quit taking care of themselves? Or why did no one ever tell them they had a choice? Please don’t bash me. It’s true. Absolutely true, there are things that can not be avoided. But, trust me here, you (and I) have a lot more control of how we end up than we believe. Even the smallest of positive changes can be celebrated for every little change can be built upon and then, then, our lives can be full and healthy.

thank you for reading,

me

Going it alone

“Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.”

– Robert Frost

I’m at a new crossroads. The one on the left is full of possibility, it looks bumpy but it could lead me to a place that is full of wonder and delight. The one on the right is predictable, it looks rough and rugged but I know where it goes. I have to choose. Left or right?

If I choose left I go on my own. I have to rely on me. Only me. I have to trust myself and my abilities to pull myself out of the mud. I have to prove to myself that I am capable beyond what I believe.  The possibilities of an amazing life and future follow this path.

If I choose to take the path on the right, I get more support. I get to stay in the safety of knowing things will be fine. I get to rely on others and allow them to help me make my decisions. This isn’t all bad. The path on the right will lead to a good future, one that is predictable.

But the path on the left? It could go poorly. It could lead me through many, many trials. Trials I have to pass on my own. Am I strong enough? I don’t know. I’ve made it this far.

The right? It might go poorly, but probably not. Except, I’ll never find out how great I can be if I choose that way. I won’t have to deal with the extremes and it might be better than the one on the left, especially if the left path fails.

The question is am I willing to settle for “fine” or “good”? Or am I willing to challenge myself for a chance of “great” and “excellent”? What do most people choose? Most people choose to do the path on the right because it requires no work. People have given up on dreams and are “too tired” or “too old” to try anything new.

I know which path I’m going to travel. I know that I cannot settle. Already my life is amazing compared to a few years ago there’s no reason it cannot get better. Instead of thinking I’m in my 30s or my 40s, 60s, 80s… try thinking I have 70, 60, 40 or 20 more years yet to live. I haven’t even lived half of my potential life span! Why would I give up now?  And yes, I said “give up” because settling is quitting. And quitting is giving up. If my heart is beating anyway, might as well make it worth the while.

thanks for reading,

me

PS. The path on the right is a lie.

Mom?

Today marks 8 years since my mother died. Over the last four months I’ve loved her, missed her, hated her, loved her some more, and just wished I could talk with her. I’m glad she no longer suffers and I’m glad that she didn’t have to see me go through the things I’ve gone through the last couple of years. She would have been livid if she knew all the stuff her ex-son-in-law put her daughter through. I don’t think it’s possible to never need your mom again. I’ve wanted to ask her so many questions. I’ve written her a letter that she’ll never be able to see.

There are so many things I would talk to her about right now. With my eldest getting married in a few days, I’d start with apologizing for how I behaved when she was planning my wedding without my help. That would be where I start. But, if we had time to sit down over a cup of tea I think I’d go back to where things really went wrong. I’d ask her why she disappeared when I needed her the most. I’d ask her to explain what was going through her mind when her husband decided I shouldn’t keep my baby. I’d ask her how she could have possibly allowed me to let someone kill her first grandchild. I’d ask her where she went, after telling me that she’d help me anyway she could. I’d ask her why she wasn’t strong enough to stick up for me. I’d ask her why she put up with my dad. I’d ask her a lot of things.

I’ve forgiven her for most, if not all of it, but I still wonder why. I know my father was a difficult person to live with and one that you just never argued with. I don’t know what went on behind in private. I do know that I learned that I was to be subservient to my husband from him. And at the same time I never once doubted that both of my parents loved me.

It’s interesting, when I look back on it. My mother tried to tell me to love myself, but she was late on that. My father? He still lives and I’ve mostly forgiven him for many things yet I still want to know why. Why did he make me choose death? I’d like to understand what possessed him to think that it would be better. I know my mother knew, there’s no way that she couldn’t. I know she knew because she had already given birth to three babies. She knew what I was going to have to deal with. She insisted I get help, help I never got until this year.  My father, though? Did he not realize that forcing me to go through that would end up with me hating myself for the next 30 years? Did he realize that for all but the last three months that I truly believed that I was a murderer? How could a father choose to put his child through that?

Then, there’s the other side… If I talk to him will that open new wounds? Did he understand the implications and just think that he needed to make it happen anyways? Was he trying to protect me in his own way? There’s forgiveness there for him. Still part of me wants to know why. Why did you let your baby girl out of your sight? Where were you? Why didn’t you protect me? So many questions. No answers.

Questions I don’t really want answers to, not yet. Someday? Maybe. Maybe I’ll sit and talk with him on it one day. I haven’t yet, but I might. What would you do?

Thanks for reading,

me

 

What if I fail? Oh. But, my darling, what if you soar?

The messed up quote above by Erin Hanson “What if I fall? Oh. But my darling, what if you fly?” Is one with special meaning to me today. I have been flying in and out of my safety nest now for about three years. My therapist finally told me that I’ve out grown him, that I am quite capable on my own. But my fear comes quickly. My fear of failing. Even while having to return to him time and time again after feeling so much better and after working so hard for the life I have, lead me to believe that I was a failure.

I was beginning to believe I had ‘failed therapy’ and there was no use even trying anymore. But, instead, I have learned that life after abuse is a lot of back and forth. The forward motion is wonderful but sometimes we go back in time. Sometimes we wake up from a nightmare or sometimes something reminds us of something awful. All the feelings I had take over like it was yesterday, and all of the things I’d accomplished since then just vanish. All of my hope and dreams take a back seat and I find myself sitting on the steps sobbing again. Failed.

But no! It’s not failure. It’s realizing that I have finally left that life and how hugely opposite my current life is now. Those short treks back in time serve a purpose to remind me of the contrast my life is now. They remind me to stay the course and to steadily move forward despite the difficulty. Really? What could be more difficult that the actual leaving, anyhow? Leaving? With all of its secret preparations, the lies to stay safe, the hushed conversations, the quick plan making, the changing of subjects. Leaving? With the constant fear of being caught, or of not getting out in time? Leaving? The real threat that anything, I mean anything, could happen to make him angry. Leaving? I don’t think anything is quite as hard as that.

So I remind myself, that when I go back in time (which could happen for no apparent reason) I am merely reminding myself of how great my current life is. So, back to the point, failing therapy didn’t actually happen, even when I had to go back again and again. I’ve been flying in and out of his nest now for a long time. I know, deep in my being, that this time is the last. Somehow, it seems so very final. He promises, as always, that if I need to see him that he will always be there. Immediately I think, liar. How can he promise that? Then I realize he’s not lying. He truly believes if I need him again that he will be around for me to visit. I relax and accept his statement.

I ask him, instead, if he’s kicking me out of the nest so I can learn to fly on my own? His answer, was quite different than I expected. He tells me, instead, that I have been flying all along. Then I ask him, “but what if I fail?” He knows me well, he knows more than I ever expected him to… and he answers me, “Oh. But what if you soar?”

So now I ask myself? What if I soar? What happens then? My life has been challenging under anyone’s measure. Often I wonder how I got where I am, just like others wonder how I managed it all? Then I remind myself, I got where I am because I chose to go down this road. I made difficult decisions, I took the hard road, I pushed and I struggled, and sometimes I crawled and I screamed but all in all I learned how to fly. I learned how to fly on my own. Now, what if I can soar? I will attempt to soar. I will open my wings and allow the wind to hold me up. I will do what I must. And, I will likely go back in time again. It will be OK because my wings will become stronger over time. And one day, I will truly soar.

And what about my safety nest? What if I find I need to land for a bit of time? What then? Will that then mean that I have failed? No. It will mean only that my wings are tired and I need only to find my course again. I know that storms will come, I know that there will be many times in the future where I could forget how to fly. But I also know that I can heal and that I can gather myself a hug and renewed energy. Then what will I hear? I will hear his voice asking me, “have you taken care of yourself lately? What are you doing for you?” For these words will be what I need to hear, old habits die hard and I need the reminding.

So the question remains? “Oh. But, my darling, what if you soar?”

 

thank you for reading,

me

Life is Short

Life is short. It’s precious and it’s so easily lost. Today was a day to remind me. I came across a motorcyclist accident. He didn’t seem OK at first. But by the time the EMS arrived he was talking. I wonder what he will do with his second chance on life? Will he go out and bike again, only more safely? Will he bother buying a better helmet, one with a face shield? There were so many people there but only a few were willing to get in and get dirty to save his life. Will this young man, who could have easily met his creator today, decide to live life to the fullest from here on out? Will he decide to take his life in a direction that could lead to new things? New purpose? I wonder. I hope so. I hope he decides that with this second chance he will cherish his life just a little more.

Or will he, instead, become scared of living? Will he decide that life is too dangerous to get on a bike again? Will he become scornful and forget that his life has value? Will he give up on life because it seems too fragile? I hope not. This seems to be what so many others have done. There were many people there watching the few, or just waiting. Were these people scared to help or did they just not know what to do? I hope they just didn’t know how to help and so stayed out of the way because someone did know.

After leaving him with the EMT, I took my children on to their father. I hugged them both tight and told them that I love them. I know that life is precious. I have not forgotten. I will not forget. I’ve lost many of those I love and I know that I will lose more. I don’t want to, but life is 100% fatal. Life is so short. Remember to live.

thanks for reading,

me

The Next 30 Days

It’s “crunch” time. It’s almost the end of the semester. Four plus exams, a case study, and two Practicals left in less than 20 days… only 8 days of actual classes. Four finals followed immediately by mediation with the ex, then starting rotations, then my daughter gets married… less than 30 days from today. My friend, Time, must feel the need to push me forward because this Time is coming so quickly now that I keep thinking I’m forgetting to do something. From one minute to the next I have no idea what I am doing. I’m OK for a bit if I just sit and ignore everything and concentrate on only one thing, but then I get sidetracked because of something I forgot.

I have choices still, I have to remind myself that I do still get to choose. I get to choose whether I will “freak out” and yell at my kids while they run around like wild animals in the house while I study. Or I could take a deep breath, send them outside, and refocus. I have the choice whether I let myself feel the overwhelm that is trying to set in or I can notice that it’s there and stop and plan a way to go forward. Everything I do is a choice.

Problem is is that some of these choices were made earlier when I felt like I had more time. Habits are hard to change. I fill my calendar from morning to night, from Sunday to Saturday and fail to schedule time for me in. This habit has got to change. Sure, I know I’ll be able to make it through the next 30 days. I know I will still be breathing when it’s done, aside from an act of God, these next 30 days will pass. At the end I will have passed my classes, successfully mediated with my ex, married off my daughter to a great guy and be in the midst of my rotations. This will all happen. I believe it. I have faith that these next days will pass and I will survive it. I might even be better for it.

In the meantime, though, how do I go through these days with grace. How do I keep a loving tone in my voice and a caring look on my face? How do I be the person I want to be while I travel through this stressful season? These are real questions. I am definitely open for suggestions.

I know I will force myself to sit and write so I don’t forget this part of my life, and so I can vent. I know I will put myself to bed with things left undone. I know I will continue to rise in the morning. What do I need to do to keep myself sane? More of what I already do but I have to be deliberate. I have to deliberately get up and drink a cup of tea and read before I start my day. I have to deliberately take myself outside and exercise in the fresh air. I have to deliberately make myself go out with friends despite my exams. I have to remember to live my life around and through the next 30 days.

There are three things I know that help me a lot. Writing, reading and eating on time. Sleep is also a huge factor on the way I feel. If I am sleep deprived I tend toward being depressed. If I am hungry, I tend toward overwhelm. Writing helps me do brain dumps and reading helps me think on different things.

Maybe I’ll learn not to schedule everything at once someday. That would be nice, free Time.

So here’s to the next 30 days!

thanks for reading,

me