Today is the day the tornadoes hit around Peoria. As I'm standing outside watching a tornado from the deck, I could feel the same storm brewing in my chest. My life tends to constantly have the makings for the perfect storm just waiting for the final element that will set the whirlwind into motion. I hesitate to be too transparent but I know that the storm in my chest is a result of the secrets that I keep.
I've been walking a long road of hiding reality, but isn't that the example my whole life has set? Put on a smile, lipstick, and some great eye makeup and no one will see the sadness. I can't hide them this time. The scars of insecurity, of self doubt, the ache that never goes away... I wear them like a piece of jewelry these days.
The truth is, it's all my fault. My expectations are too high and my heart is too sensitive. I wish I could change my past, decisions I've made, baggage that I carry, hateful words I've said... I wish I could take it all back. I would do so many things differently. I would strive to be a different person. I'm not the wife or mother that I always thought I would be and it makes me sad each time I think about it.
I'm selfish. I'm sloppy. I'm insecure. I'm needy. I'm demanding. I want a fairytale that doesn't exist...
Saturday, November 23, 2013
This Life of Mine
Once upon a time I was an innocent girl, shy, reserved, prim and proper, covered in pink lace with bows in my hair. I stood on a picnic table singing at the top of my lungs; 'You Can Paint a Rainbow' by Rainbow Bright. I can recite all the lyrics to this day. I knew little of the evils of the world and in my isolated, protected bubble they were kept at arms length. Except for the things that weren't.
My childhood was woven with challenges, my adolescence dripping with emotion, and my adulthood reflects it all. I carry some baggage that I can't ever seem to unpack; baggage that my husband gets to carry more often than I like, but when I sift through pain, the fear, and the memories I'm reminded that all of those things have shaped me and molded me into my current self. At times I am slow to laugh, quick to criticize, and I pop off without thinking. I've established boundaries of protection which I can't always explain and at times I find that I'm less trusting and more guarded than I ever thought I would be. I've been hurt by strangers and friends, and those who say they love me. It's a part of life, I know, yet still I feel my heart harden with each new assault. You may not know my story. You may have called me names or judged me. In truth I have been all of the things you say. My life has gone into survival mode more times than I can count and with that comes consequences. Sometimes I think that my survival mode takes a tiny piece of me and keeps it in that dark, lonely place paving the path for quicker access next time.
With all of this being said, all of the struggles in my life have written my story. The story of my parenting, the story of my compassion, the story of my fear, and the story of my salvation. I know I'm not the only one who carries a scar from their past. As the saying goes, Be kind to each person you meet for you never know what battles they are fighting.
My childhood was woven with challenges, my adolescence dripping with emotion, and my adulthood reflects it all. I carry some baggage that I can't ever seem to unpack; baggage that my husband gets to carry more often than I like, but when I sift through pain, the fear, and the memories I'm reminded that all of those things have shaped me and molded me into my current self. At times I am slow to laugh, quick to criticize, and I pop off without thinking. I've established boundaries of protection which I can't always explain and at times I find that I'm less trusting and more guarded than I ever thought I would be. I've been hurt by strangers and friends, and those who say they love me. It's a part of life, I know, yet still I feel my heart harden with each new assault. You may not know my story. You may have called me names or judged me. In truth I have been all of the things you say. My life has gone into survival mode more times than I can count and with that comes consequences. Sometimes I think that my survival mode takes a tiny piece of me and keeps it in that dark, lonely place paving the path for quicker access next time.
With all of this being said, all of the struggles in my life have written my story. The story of my parenting, the story of my compassion, the story of my fear, and the story of my salvation. I know I'm not the only one who carries a scar from their past. As the saying goes, Be kind to each person you meet for you never know what battles they are fighting.
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Re-Fueled By Quiet
I've always been a fairly outgoing person. Maybe a little shy, reserved, and cautious, but outgoing and not afraid to speak to others. I had a lot of friends in grade school and high school, dated a little, raised my hand to share in class, talked back to my mom, and enjoyed being on stage singing and dancing. As an adult I have fewer friends, don't date, rarely talk back to my mom, and would sing or dance only in a crowed room after having a beverage or two. I speak freely in my job, make friendly acquaintances easily, I share portions of my story with anyone who might care enough to listen and share my spiritual beliefs when appropriate. I don't hesitate to talk to strangers, and I feel comfortable standing up for things that are important to me. I would call myself an extrovert. The odd paradigm is that at the end of the day or a busy week, I am re-fueled by quiet.
It has taken conflict in my marriage and lots of introspection before I began to realize that being with people making small talk and bouncing from one conversation to the next is exhausting to me. I would much rather be part of a deep, meaningful conversation sitting at home with a glass of wine than to be among a large crowd of people all chattering across the room. My brain often interprets the noise like the loud roar of a machine and I eventually step back and exit from the conversations being juggled around me. In turn I look disconnected, uninterested, snobby, anti-social, and bored.
Tony is my polar opposite in this area as are most of the people in our circle. It's important to Tony to go out and be social no matter how busy the week has been. It's important to me to have some down time where I can just "be". I need to quiet the noise in order to feel refreshed.
I wish before judgement came an effort to understand. I'm guilty of this myself, passing judgement without seeking to understand where the other person might be. I'm going to work on this. I'm going to fail more times than get it right, but I'm going to work on it.
If I accept you for you, would you accept me for me?
It has taken conflict in my marriage and lots of introspection before I began to realize that being with people making small talk and bouncing from one conversation to the next is exhausting to me. I would much rather be part of a deep, meaningful conversation sitting at home with a glass of wine than to be among a large crowd of people all chattering across the room. My brain often interprets the noise like the loud roar of a machine and I eventually step back and exit from the conversations being juggled around me. In turn I look disconnected, uninterested, snobby, anti-social, and bored.
Tony is my polar opposite in this area as are most of the people in our circle. It's important to Tony to go out and be social no matter how busy the week has been. It's important to me to have some down time where I can just "be". I need to quiet the noise in order to feel refreshed.
I wish before judgement came an effort to understand. I'm guilty of this myself, passing judgement without seeking to understand where the other person might be. I'm going to work on this. I'm going to fail more times than get it right, but I'm going to work on it.
If I accept you for you, would you accept me for me?
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
This Career that I Love
A few weeks ago I watched a man walk past me at Walmart with braces on his legs, pushing a wheeled walker, carrying a bouquet of flowers for his wife. This man was a patient of mine when I was doing my clinical time as a student at ICC. I was with him the day he took his very first steps after his accident that left him paralyzed. My heart just about burst from my chest to see him walking even though he had the assistance of a walker and braces, he had been given back his independence. I was so proud of him. If anyone could overcome the odds it was this man.
When I worked at the hospital in the cardiac ICU, I found people everyday that had the determination to beat the odds; some were able to while others died trying. In the cardiac ICU, the day could change on a dime. A patient that made steady progress could be gone when you walked in the next morning and likewise a patient who couldn't respond might be communicating and following commands. Each and every day I gave out "the rock star award". It was my own reminder to find the highlight of every day, something praiseworthy, something to remind myself how important my job was. Of course there were patients who would refuse to work with me before I would even open my mouth to introduce myself and then there were those who just couldn't.
I adored working at OSF. I loved being in the "hubbub" of Peoria. I would watch the news in the morning and potentially work with a patient featured in a story that afternoon. My job always brought me so much joy. I will never, ever forget walking a sweet little lady who was on a ventilator with a team of people. We were quite the parade going down the hall, but it brought me joy and it brought her strength. My patient became my friend. Her smile was contagious and her drive to get home was inspiring. I knew that I made a difference. Sometimes I made a difference by crying with a patient, sometimes it was by making recommendations for discharge that would give the patient safety and allow them to go home, and sometimes it was by having a real, honest conversation about the reality of the situation they were in. Sometimes I miss this setting...
Today I work in a school with kids as young as 6 or as old as 16. These kids are so neat. They remind me that despite the cards I've been dealt, I have to pull up my boot straps and keep on truckin'! These kids know no limits. It was one such child that lead me to this path in the first place. A sweet little girl named Emily. I remember being completely enamored with her equipment and how she would stand even though she was in a wheelchair. I loved seeing her on the floor. She had a magnetic smile. I will never forget her face.
When I was in high school I told my guidance counselor that I wanted to be in Physical Therapy. I knew nothing about what a degree required, after all, she was supposed to tell me that, right? She told me that my grades weren't good enough and directed me toward education. I knew that wasn't the right path for me, but she was the expert. Here I am countless years later, loving my job, being inspired every day, and making a difference. In the school setting the differences that we make are on a smaller scale than that of the hospital. But a child has a special way of melting my heart.
I can honestly say that I'm living the dream. As I've read back on old posts I'm reminded of how much I fussed over my education and I wondered if it was worth it. It totally was. I would do it all again in a heartbeat if I had to.
Go find your dream; don't give up until you do.
When I worked at the hospital in the cardiac ICU, I found people everyday that had the determination to beat the odds; some were able to while others died trying. In the cardiac ICU, the day could change on a dime. A patient that made steady progress could be gone when you walked in the next morning and likewise a patient who couldn't respond might be communicating and following commands. Each and every day I gave out "the rock star award". It was my own reminder to find the highlight of every day, something praiseworthy, something to remind myself how important my job was. Of course there were patients who would refuse to work with me before I would even open my mouth to introduce myself and then there were those who just couldn't.
I adored working at OSF. I loved being in the "hubbub" of Peoria. I would watch the news in the morning and potentially work with a patient featured in a story that afternoon. My job always brought me so much joy. I will never, ever forget walking a sweet little lady who was on a ventilator with a team of people. We were quite the parade going down the hall, but it brought me joy and it brought her strength. My patient became my friend. Her smile was contagious and her drive to get home was inspiring. I knew that I made a difference. Sometimes I made a difference by crying with a patient, sometimes it was by making recommendations for discharge that would give the patient safety and allow them to go home, and sometimes it was by having a real, honest conversation about the reality of the situation they were in. Sometimes I miss this setting...
Today I work in a school with kids as young as 6 or as old as 16. These kids are so neat. They remind me that despite the cards I've been dealt, I have to pull up my boot straps and keep on truckin'! These kids know no limits. It was one such child that lead me to this path in the first place. A sweet little girl named Emily. I remember being completely enamored with her equipment and how she would stand even though she was in a wheelchair. I loved seeing her on the floor. She had a magnetic smile. I will never forget her face.
When I was in high school I told my guidance counselor that I wanted to be in Physical Therapy. I knew nothing about what a degree required, after all, she was supposed to tell me that, right? She told me that my grades weren't good enough and directed me toward education. I knew that wasn't the right path for me, but she was the expert. Here I am countless years later, loving my job, being inspired every day, and making a difference. In the school setting the differences that we make are on a smaller scale than that of the hospital. But a child has a special way of melting my heart.
I can honestly say that I'm living the dream. As I've read back on old posts I'm reminded of how much I fussed over my education and I wondered if it was worth it. It totally was. I would do it all again in a heartbeat if I had to.
Go find your dream; don't give up until you do.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Not A Perfect Mom
Most of my friends are in the midst of building their family, multiplying in numbers, having babies... Call it what you will. I on the other hand am raising a pre-teen and a tween. My girls are going through hormonal changes, friend drama, boyfriends and crushes, math homework, sports activities, and all things One Direction. They have boy band posters covering their walls. We have "The Best Song Ever" blaring throughout our house as two different girls listen to the same song in two different areas of the house at two different parts of the song competing in volume. I get eye rolling, door slamming, the biggest most drawn out sigh you've ever heard, hands on hips, hair flipped over shoulder, and tears, tears, tears. Some days I wonder how we are going to survive and still be "friends" when the dust settles.
I'm often asked by those friends who are raising small children, "Can you give me lessons on parenting? Your girls are so well behaved!" In truth, this is one of the best compliments you could ever pay me. My mission for the last 13 years has been to be the best mother that I can. Some days I cry more than they do because I feel like a complete failure yet other days shed tears of pride at how amazing my children are. Don't get me wrong, I can't take all the credit, but I think it's time for parents to take credit where credit is due in the good, the bad and the really, really ugly. I can tell you where I fail my girls. I can tell you the most hateful thing that has spewed out of my mouth as they have my blood boiling. I can see my errors, my shortcomings, the gaps in my parenting on a fairly regular basis. I know what part I can take credit for and I know what part I have to take credit for.
As to the key to my parenting, it is simple. If I say I'm going to do it, I will, no need to test me. They usually do and end up... crying. And, I always, always think backwards. What behaviors do I need to instill in my girls today so they are honest, respectful, trustworthy, accountable, humble, compassionate adults? Is the behavior I'm allowing in line with my hope for their character? I've asked myself this question so many times and so many times I've changed my response based on the answer. It's really hard to be the mom who doesn't allow this or that or to be the mom who has high expectations. But someday I want my girls to appreciate the lessons that they learned as children that some adults still don't have a grasp on today.
I'm grateful that I can't offer my kids the sun and moon and stars. If I could, it will be really hard me to say no and for them to understand why I choose not to. With all that I've done wrong, I hold onto hope that I've done enough right to give my girls their best possible chance at having a great character.
I'm often asked by those friends who are raising small children, "Can you give me lessons on parenting? Your girls are so well behaved!" In truth, this is one of the best compliments you could ever pay me. My mission for the last 13 years has been to be the best mother that I can. Some days I cry more than they do because I feel like a complete failure yet other days shed tears of pride at how amazing my children are. Don't get me wrong, I can't take all the credit, but I think it's time for parents to take credit where credit is due in the good, the bad and the really, really ugly. I can tell you where I fail my girls. I can tell you the most hateful thing that has spewed out of my mouth as they have my blood boiling. I can see my errors, my shortcomings, the gaps in my parenting on a fairly regular basis. I know what part I can take credit for and I know what part I have to take credit for.
As to the key to my parenting, it is simple. If I say I'm going to do it, I will, no need to test me. They usually do and end up... crying. And, I always, always think backwards. What behaviors do I need to instill in my girls today so they are honest, respectful, trustworthy, accountable, humble, compassionate adults? Is the behavior I'm allowing in line with my hope for their character? I've asked myself this question so many times and so many times I've changed my response based on the answer. It's really hard to be the mom who doesn't allow this or that or to be the mom who has high expectations. But someday I want my girls to appreciate the lessons that they learned as children that some adults still don't have a grasp on today.
I'm grateful that I can't offer my kids the sun and moon and stars. If I could, it will be really hard me to say no and for them to understand why I choose not to. With all that I've done wrong, I hold onto hope that I've done enough right to give my girls their best possible chance at having a great character.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
