I Remember

I slept in that day, because I had forgotten to set my alarm. Had I set it, I would have woken up to NPR coverage of the planes crashing into the World Trade Center (I was living in CO at the time, and was 2 hours behind the east coast). But instead I woke up, rolled over to see the time, panicked, and raced into the shower. When I got out of the shower and was walking back to my room to get dressed, I checked my cell phone and saw that I had missed multiple phone calls from my co-worker. I called her back as I picked out my outfit.

"What's up?" I asked casually.

"Have you turned on your TV today?"

"No - I forgot to set my alarm, and now I'm racing around trying to..."

"We're under attack."

"What? What do you mean?"

"The World Trade Center got hit by a plane... and then another plane... turn on your TV."

*pause*

"Oh my God."

"I talked with [Executive Director] and we agreed that we will all still work today. We have to decide if we still want to go through with our event on Friday."

"Wow... yes... of course."

"So come in when you can. There's a TV in the office downstairs so we can keep tabs on what's going on."


Standing there, watching in disbelief, I saw the South Tower fall. And just before I left for work, I saw the North Tower fall as well.

Ten years later as I see the video footage of that day, I am brought back to my basement apartment in Colorado. Standing in my towel, wet hair dripping on the carpet, watching an unfathomably horrible tragedy play out on my television screen.


Today I pray for peace for the victims and their families - on this anniversary and every day. I pray for the people of the United States of America, that this anniversary might remind us all of our interconnectedness - that we might all be encouraged to reach out to our fellow human beings, just as we did in the days following the attacks, rather than focusing on our differences.

I came across this today. It is a letter written by Ian Adelman to his friends and family the afternoon of September 11, 2001.

"On one hand, it is amazing to see people looking out for one another as everything appears to fall apart around them, but it is deeply saddening to think that it takes this kind of catastrophe to get people to overlook petty concerns and just be kind to those around them. The saddest thing is that while we'll all remember the physical event-- most of us won't be able to remember the way we felt. If only people could hang on to that feeling of common ground with nearby strangers that such a disaster instills. If we could somehow keep that in our emotional memory, we'd be better equipped to move forward--whether in the context of a local community, a nation, or a planet."


And because I am never one to miss an opportunity to reference The West Wing, here are some incredibly poignant words spoken by President Bartlet, regarding an attack on a college campus:

"We did not seek nor did we provoke an assault on our freedom and our way of life. We did not expect nor did we invite a confrontation with evil. Yet the true measure of a people's strength is how they rise to master that moment when it does arrive. 44 people were killed a couple of hours ago at Kennison State University. Three swimmers from the men's team were killed and two others are in critical condition. When, after having heard the explosion from their practice facility, they ran into the fire to help get people out. Ran *in* to the fire. The streets of heaven are too crowded with angels tonight. They're our students and our teachers and our parents and our friends. The streets of heaven are too crowded with angels, but every time we think we have measured our capacity to meet a challenge, we look up and we're reminded that that capacity may well be limitless. This is a time for American heroes. We will do what is hard. We will achieve what is great. This is a time for American heroes and we reach for the stars. God bless their memory, God bless you and God bless the United States of America. Thank you."


God bless the memory of all those lost on 9/11. And God bless the United States of America.

First Quarter Updates

1. The landlord for the new apartment called today and told me that the apartment is mine if I want it. This is AWESOME on so many levels I can't even stand it. I will sign the lease in a week.

2. Thanks to my 2011 savings plan, this is the first time I've signed a lease and not had to borrow money from my parents for the deposit. I feel so grown up!

3. I already bought a couch. It looks like this and it pulls out into a really comfy bed. This means that guests can stay in a room that isn't mine when they come to visit. Yay!

4. Work is still crazy.

5. I get to see my parents again next weekend! Two weekends in one month - and both sightings in Boston. How lucky am I?

6. The Decemberists "This is Why We Fight" video hits the internet tomorrow. This makes me happy.

7. In the meantime, I've been obsessed with this song, ever since Seth and Emi sang it for me a few weeks ago. Of course, I prefer their father/daughter acoustic version, but until they record it as a single, the original will do.

8. I re-read this post, and am pleased to report to you that I have checked off all of my "other goals" - I got my LICSW, took a swing dance class, and miraculously overcame the sickness from hell that lasted for nearly the entire first quarter of 2011.


So there we are, mid-April in 2011.

Happier Things

I've been told perhaps I should post a few happy things on this neglected blog so as not to scare off the 6 readers I have left.

It's late tonight, so for now I'm going to post a list of things that are currently making me happy, and/or things to post more about later:

- This song makes me happy.

- I'm going to look at an apartment tomorrow in the middle of the day. This is an insane plan for multiple reasons (it requires that I drive to work so I have a car to get to the apartment, then park at home and grab a cab to return to work so that I don't have to drive home from work in the middle of Opening Day traffic). I have no idea if the apartment will be the right fit for me or not, but I'm tired of cursing my ever-shedding roommate every time I walk into the bathroom, and think I should explore other options in an effort to maintain my sanity. That said, if tomorrow's viewing doesn't go well, I won't be too disappointed. But if it feels right, it could be an exciting new step for me.

- Tomorrow is Opening Day! I'd be more excited if the Sox had demonstrated an ability to play the game of baseball so far this season, but I'm still excited and hopeful at the start of the home season.

- I get to see my parents tomorrow. In my city. That's always a treat (usually I have to trek north to see them). :-)

- I'm going swing dancing Saturday night. I've been taking a class. I should write about that sometime - it's been a fun experience.

- A really nice and happy thing happened at work last week. It's a follow-up to a previous post, and it makes me smile a lot to think about. I don't often get to share happy work stories on this blog (or I don't often choose to share them, I guess), so perhaps that will go up here too.


All for now. Hopefully some continued happy thoughts to follow...

Doubt Comes In

ORPHEUS & FATES
Doubt comes in
With tricky fingers
Doubt comes in
With fickle tongues
Doubt comes in and my heart falters
And forgets the songs it sung
Where are you? Where are you now?
- Anais Mitchell, Hadestown

When I never get past a first date with a guy and all my first dates are comically bad, it's easy to lose sight of the point of dating. My dating life becomes a source of entertainment for myself and others. That's how it's been for so long that it's become the norm.

When I get past a first date, I'm always cautious, because there's almost always a "but" - as in, "he's nice, but..." or "he's funny, but..." I try to keep an open mind, but I know myself well and I'm obnoxiously good at separating the wheat from the chaff.

Sometimes I make it to a third date, but it's rare.

Never a fourth.

I recently met a guy while out at an event. We made plans for a first date and that went well, so we made plans for a second... and then a third. Every date was a good one - we talked, we laughed, we shared bits and pieces of our life stories - and as time went on, bits of future talk crept into the conversation: "When you get your next statement in the mail, show it to me and I'll explain it to you," he said (when discussing what he does for work and me admitting I don't understand it). "Next time we go out, we'll have to go there," he said.

This was all new to me. I don't think about the future with guys I date for one of two reasons:

1. The guys aren't the type of people I could see myself with long-term.

or

2. They aren't talking about the future, and I don't want to jump the gun.

But this guy talked about the future. He made jokes and remembered things like what night I have class. He drove a practical car even though his income far exceeded mine. He liked to share food when out on a date. He had a million and one quirks that I found entirely endearing. He was thoughtful and funny, and he knew how to kiss.

And so a part of me that had been dormant for ages - a tiny flicker of hope - awoke inside me when I met this man and things between us seemed so easy and right. And I began to think about the possibility of a future with him... the possibility of not just a few dates, but an honest-to-goodness relationship. And I could picture it. I could really picture it.

It felt like it was actually going somewhere. And for the first time that I can remember, I stopped trying to talk myself out of or into a man, but just enjoyed being with him and slowly building the relationship.

It was during this process that I was reminded that dating is not just a source of bad date stories, but that if/when it works out, it's supposed to be a source of happiness and friendship. I haven't experienced that in so long that I had forgotten.

And then I remembered. I remembered what it felt like to feel excited about a guy, and to have a guy seem to be excited about me too. It was a new experience for me, and I was happy and optimistic about this quirky man who made me smile.


But then he wrote to me this morning to tell me that he met someone else a few weeks ago and wanted to "give it a shot" with her. He said he couldn't date two people at once, and that he hoped I would understand.


The funny thing is that my first reaction wasn't shock, or sadness or any emotion directed at him. It was anger at myself for letting my guard down. As though not imagining what it might be like to be in a relationship with him might have
somehow kept this from happening.

And so I responded to him with words that I truly believe, even though I hated that I had to write them to him. I told him that there need to be feelings on both sides in order for things to move forward and ultimately work out, so if one person isn't feeling it, it's probably not going to go far. And I told him I was bummed, but I wished him well.

And only then did I get sad. Rock-your-core, punched-in-the-gut sad. Because when I go on bad first dates, I am never reminded of what I'm missing. I'm reminded of how ridiculous dating can be. But with this man, I was reminded of what it feels like to connect with someone, and to enjoy being with him.

I was reminded of what I don't have.


In my everyday life, I make it a point not to feel sorry for myself. Though there have been times in my life when I've lamented my single status, those times are few and far between. I enjoy my independence, and I trust that I'll find a mate when I am meant to.

But just for this one day, I couldn't help but feel sad. Sad at the loss of something that on most days I don't even miss. But that today suddenly made me feel achingly alone.

And then the doubt comes in... is it me?

Am I too picky? Do I write off men too quickly?

Or did I do or say something that made this man write me off?

Was it the weird thing I said on the second date? Was it the fact that I insisted on paying for our third date? Was it that I wasn't in shape enough? Was it that I told him that I was good at my job? Did that make me sound too cocky?


I'll never know.

I just have to trust that for whatever reason, he was not my bus. And that things will all work out as they should, eventually. Because they always do.


EURYDICE
Orpheus
Hold on
Hold on tight
It won’t be long
’cause the darkest hour
Of the darkest night
Comes right before the dawn
- Anais Mitchell, Hadestown

Complications

I'm going on vacation this weekend. Taking 5 days and heading south to New Orleans where I've never been to meet up with good friends from college and their friends. I'm using a free flight that had to be used before February 2nd, and staying at someone's house, so I'm hoping the budget part of the trip is relatively manageable.

I remember thinking when I booked the trip, "I will have just taken time off from work for Christmas - it seems kind of silly to take more time so soon."

As it turns out, this trip could not be planned for a better time.

Work has been tough these past few weeks. A family I became very close with had to make difficult end-of-life decisions for a family member they loved so dearly. I attended the funeral for that person yesterday, and then returned to work to have a very difficult conversation about DNR status with another family. I went home exhausted and hoping for better today.

Alas, that was not to be. I had thought I was mentally prepared for what today would bring, but I forgot about the x-factor. The fact that one never knows what patients will be admitted overnight, how very sick they can be, and how complicated their family dynamics can be.

As the social worker, fixing and/or managing the sickness never falls to me. But managing and putting band-aids on broken, messy, and/or complicated family dynamics is most definitely in my job description.

Throw in my more typical (but still required, even on crazy days) tasks of introducing myself to new families and orienting them to the unit and the hospital, and my day went from predictably bad to unpredictably miserable. I didn't leave until 8:30pm.

I feel like this always happens when I'm working a short week and gearing up for a vacation. All the chaos that might have been spread over 5 days somehow knows to squeeze itself into 3. On one hand, I'm glad I'm dealing with it all, as I always hate to leave a mess for my coworker who covers for me when I'm out. On the other hand, I'm exhausted, and unsure how I'll rally to make it to work tomorrow... especially given that I'll be walking to work in a snow storm.

It's as though every ounce of my energy must be drained before being able to go on vacation to replenish it.

I don't even have the energy to pack.

And yet...

I still wouldn't trade this job for any other in the world.

Prayer for Fibby

It's been a tough month at work - a tough few months, really. Lots of complicated social situations. Lots of sad stories. Lots of heavy loads to help people carry...

There's an ongoing situation right now that eats away at me. It makes me sad. It makes me angry. It makes me frustrated. I'm mostly able to leave it behind when the work day is over, but sometimes it takes the whole walk home to fully shake it. And of course, it's always waiting for me when I return to work in the morning.

I knew that I'd have a day that centered mostly around this situation when I headed to work yesterday morning. I had checked email throughout the weekend and was aware that there had been some issues that would need to be addressed when I returned. I got to work, took a deep breath and plunged right in.

The "water" was deep, and the situation upsetting. I met with one person, I met with another, I organized a meeting of the care team, and then I documented in multiple places the plan to move forward. I stayed an hour late to finish all of this and was exhausted by the time I began my walk home.

It was a full-body exhaustion: physical, mental, and emotional. As I turned down my street, I was mentally preparing to leave the day behind when I walked through my front door. I spent the last few blocks taking some deep breaths in an attempt to let go of the day, but it was still hanging on.

Two blocks from home, I looked up and saw a few adults in their early 20s walking towards me.

"Excuse me," one girl said, "Do you have a second?"

"I might," I responded cautiously.

"It's not for anything weird... I mean... Well, we're with the ______ Church and I'm wondering if there's anyone you'd like us to pray for - maybe for you or for someone you know who is having a hard time?" She and her friend both smiled and looked at me kindly. "My name is Meredith," she said.

I'm of the belief that given the line of work I'm in and the challenges I so often witness there, I'm in no position to turn down prayer. Whether it be to a Christian, Jewish, or Muslim God, whether the god be male or female or gender neutral, if someone offers to pray for me or the families I work with, I won't say no.

So I thought for a moment, wanting so much to request a prayer for this family that is causing me so much heartache but not wanting to violate any HIPAA regulations. "Could you pray for the families at my hospital?" I asked. I told her where I worked and the population I serve, and tears came to her eyes.

She asked if she could put her hand on my arm, and when I said yes she began to pray.

I don't remember all the words of her prayer, but I do remember how kind and earnest she was. It wasn't a cookie-cutter prayer. She said "um" and "uh" as she strung together her thoughts into words. But her simple, honest prayer carried a surprising depth and weight. She praised her God for wisdom and love, and acknowledged that God's heart can break just as ours can. She asked for strength and peace for the families in the hospital. And she asked for strength and peace for me.

She finished her prayer and I thanked her. We chatted for a bit and then parted ways.

I walked home feeling lighter, less anxious, and relieved. Relieved in the realization that I am not carrying these burdens alone. Relieved at the idea that there might be some larger power that will help me through these difficult days - if not by solving the complex social problems I witness at work, at least by sending people like Meredith to pray for me when I need it most.

These are the questions I ask every day, on my way, on my way, on my way...*

I was walking home today, in a rush to get there and finish packing before driving up to Maine, and walked past two people sitting on a bench.

"Excuse me?" said the female, "Could you answer a question for us?"

"Sure" I shrugged.

"What do you think your purpose in life is?"

"Um, I, uh..."

"We're not going to record your answer or anything. We're just having a discussion and wanted to get more input."

"Well..." I began, "I guess I'm not sure where to go with that... do you mean career-wise, or personally, or...?"

"How about answering this question instead," said the male. "Which is more rewarding: interpersonal connections or self-satisfaction?"

I thought for a moment before I responded, "I don't believe one can have self-satisfaction without interpersonal connections."

They seemed satisfied with my answer and I continued on my way.



What about you? Would you have stopped to answer questions from strangers? What would your answers have been?



...*

Change

It's not that I haven't wanted to write, it's just that I haven't been sure what to say. 

The past 6 months have presented me with some personal challenges, and though I've never been shy about sharing personal bits of my life on this blog, these challenges have involved other people and have made the sharing a bit tricky. I want to write because it is therapeutic for me, but I also want to respect the privacy of these people I care about, even though neither of them reads this blog.

The short version is that there was a friendship that was dissolved and a friendship that was rekindled. Two different friendships, which means that in addition to regaining a friend, I also lost one. It's been hard for me to write about, because it's been hard for me to accept. This was a relationship that I had thought was one of my strongest - a person whose friendship I valued very highly. And in the end, there was no fight or discussion or explanation, this friend just faded away. It was unbelievably sad for me, as there was nothing I could do to save it. For a long time there was a big hole. Now the hole is smaller, but there are still days when I see something that reminds me of my friend and there's a pang of sadness that hits. I still hold out hope that someday this friend and I will reconnect, but I've had to learn to live my life without this friend in it, and that has taken some getting used to.

The friendship that has been rekindled is also complicated. We were friends, and then we weren't for a while due to scheduling and other commitments. And then I reached out and so did this friend, and now we're back in touch and in each other's lives perhaps even more significantly than we were before. Conversation flows, there is unconditional support, and I am so glad to have this person back in my life... except that this friend is moving in a few short weeks, and even with phone and email, I fear that I will be left with yet another hole that will be hard to fill.

Change isn't bad. I know the friend who is moving and I regard each other with a significant level of respect and trust and appreciation that distance should not impact. And I know that the fact that I have lost this other friend does not take away from the many fun and meaningful times we had when we were in each other's lives. With change comes new opportunity, and hopefully growth. But despite knowing all that, I can't help but wish for the good old days sometimes - the days before things changed.

At the End of the Day

There are some days when I leave work feeling energized and elated, and there are some days when I leave work feeling as though I've been punched in the gut. Particularly difficult are the nights I leave work not knowing if patients who were in critical condition when I left will still be there when I return. 

In professions that deal regularly with matters of life and death, there is a significant amount of self-care that practitioners must do in order to keep from burning out. People often think of self-care as being something extravagant like getting a massage. But actually, self-care can be as simple as turning one's pager off and leaving work on time.

At the end of days like today, I have a lot of ambivalence about leaving my work behind. I know that the only way I can continue to do my job well is to take time away from it and all of the intensity and stress it brings, but I get so invested in the patients and families that it's difficult for me to leave them when I know they are struggling. Can they get by without my support? Of course. But if I can relieve their stress or ease their sorrow or help in any way, I want to do so, and it's difficult for me to walk away. But in order to have the energy and strength to return to work each morning, I must leave work at night and try to put out of my mind the scary and sad realities that these families are facing 24/7, with no option to escape. 

It has taken some time and practice, but most of the time I can do it. However, some days I find that my walk home at the end of the day has not cleared my head, and I am still weighted down with the reality of what I see every day. 

Last night, after a difficult day at work, I returned home and checked blog updates before I went to sleep. I clicked on flotsamblog - one of my favorites - only to find this post. It was a punch-in-the-gut reminder to me that even when babies survive through prematurity and families bring them home from the hospital - even when they are many months and even years out from having been in a hospital - they are still fragile, and there are no guarantees.

When I returned to work this morning that reminder weighed heavily on me. And as I saw my patients struggle with their individual battles, I said silent prayers for each of them that they might leave our hospital healthy and never return. 

I never knew Maddie Spohr or her parents, but from what I have read, there was a lot to love. The online community of Maddie's friends and supporters has raised over $22,000 in her honor for the March of Dimes as well as additional funds through PayPal to support her parents during this unthinkably difficult time. I am moved to tears when I think of the loss of such a small and joyful little life - and then moved to tears again to see the widespread reaction and incredible outpouring of support and love within the blogging world. 

Last night my work and my outside life collided, and at the end of today I am left still reeling from the impact. 

"The streets of heaven are too crowded with angels tonight... but every time we think we've measured our capacity to meet a challenge, we look up and we're reminded that that capacity may well be limitless."   -TWW

One of Those Weeks

I can't remember the last time I had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week. It's been a while. So I guess I was due? 

Monday brought a cryptic email from my supervisor telling me that she needed to meet with me regarding a "patient relations issue". It turned out to be nothing bad, but I spent the entire day with a knot in my stomach trying to figure out what I might have done wrong and/or what family might have had a complaint about my work. Not a great way to start the week.

Tuesday I was paged before I even got into work about a family situation that had escalated to a near crisis point. By the time I arrived at work (10 minutes early, thankyouverymuch), the family had already left, but there was much de-briefing to do about how this matter was handled and how to prevent a similar situation in the future. And though absolutely no one blamed me for what had taken place, I felt awful that I hadn't been there to help during an incredibly difficult situation. 

Wednesday, I started getting sick. The "oh no, my throat hurts and I know what that means" kind of sick where you know no matter how much zinc/vitamin c/echinacea you take, it's still going to get you.

Thursday I stayed home sick from work. I also received an unexpected email that has left me feeling unsettled and grumpy for the past 24 hours.

And today I realized mid-day that the grant proposal I have been working on that is due March 2nd is due on MONDAY because February is a short month. I also realized when I went to pay my credit card bill at 8pm tonight that it wouldn't get posted until March 2. It's due the 1st. And when I called the company to ask if there was anything I could do, and they said, "yes, go to this website and you can pay it until 11:59pm tonight and it will still post today", I then realized that the credit card with the number I would need to be able to pay it online, was on my desk at work.

So it's been that kind of week. A terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week.

But there have been glimmers of goodness in the week too: one of my favorite kiddos coming back to our unit for a few days, getting to hold that same kiddo's twin brother while he smiled at me with all his might, caring comments from friends when they found out I was sick, free lunch today (there IS such thing as a free lunch, people, there IS!), and an honest-to-goodness, rock-solid GOOD first date. Yes, you read that correctly. In the midst of my hellish week, I went on a date, and that date was good. 

Go in Peace

A typical stay on my unit in the hospital can last from a week or two to a few months. Rarely do we get patients who stay with us for more than that. Naturally, the longer a patient is with us, the more we all (nurses, doctors, social workers, etc.) bond with the family. 

One might imagine that the main purpose of ICU interventions is to do everything possible to save lives. That is true to a certain extent, but an equally important role of the ICU medical team is to decide when there is no longer anything that can be done to improve a patient's health, and to help the family through the difficult decisions and experiences that follow. Usually, this happens in a predictable way: families have been kept up-to-date on the patients' progress, and are not surprised when the medical team comes to them with a discussion about end-of-life issues. But there are some times when family members are not on the same page as the medical team... and some times when family members are not on the same page as each other. In those cases, it is our job as a team to help families get to a place where they are able to let their dying family members go. 

Today, after months of medical updates, ethics consults, and intense conversations, we managed to get two family members who were not on the same page about how to care for a patient to agree on how to move forward. And though I think many of us on the medical team (and some family members) felt great relief to know that the family and the medical team were finally in agreement about what was best for this patient, there was also a great feeling of sadness to realize what that meant. 

There are many sobering moments in my line of work, but none so sobering as when we see families make the selfless decision to let go of a loved one who is suffering. The "easy" choice is to keep a loved on alive at all costs. It is much more difficult to recognize when the pain and suffering felt by a person being kept alive by artificial means outweighs the pain and suffering that the surviving family members will be left with after that person's death.  

These next few days will not be easy. For the first time in this job, I have offered to come into work over the weekend if I am needed. I do not pretend for a moment that this family with whom I have spent at least an hour every working day for the past few months will go quietly from my mind after their loved one has died. They have become a part of my daily routine, and I can already imagine the tug I'll feel at my heart when I walk by their room and it is empty or occupied by a new patient. But as I came to accept long before the family, this patient is ready to go, and will find peace soon in a way that was never found in this lifetime. 

Go in peace, sweet one. Go in peace.

Matters of Life and Death

After 3.5 weeks of relative quiet at work, the end of last week brought some pretty intense situations. I sat in on my first family meeting at which the medical team told the family there was nothing left that could be done. I watched another family struggle to come to grips with the fact that their child was not going to live. And I witnessed intense grief of a family going through an unthinkable tragedy outside of their hospital stay.

All in one day.

It was the kind of day in which I kept feeling heavier and heavier with the weight of these families' stories, and that ended with me sobbing in my office at the end of the day. This is my dream job - helping people through impossibly difficult times and helping them navigate the delicate balancing act between heartache and hope. It is everything I want to be doing, but sometimes, like last week, it becomes difficult for me to separate a family's grief from my own.

And yet, I returned.

I spent the weekend practicing some self care, hanging out with friends and babysitting, and then returned to work on Monday. Yes, I was a little bit scared of what would be waiting for me, but I was also determined to find new families to remind me of the hope and resillience that can be found on my unit that can help to balance out the tragedy.

So "balance" was the key word of the week, I guess. This week, I supported another family through the death of a patient. I also made dedicated time to support the staff, who are impacted by these losses (both individually and cumulatively). And in the middle of all the grief that surrounded me, I found hope. Hope in some of the new familes who have arrived on the unit. And hope in the patient who moved to a non-ICU floor and who is now one step closer of returning home with her family.

Every night, I am exhausted when I get home. Every morning I'm nervous about what the day may bring and my capacity to handle it. But multiple times a day, without fail, I am honored and humbled to work in such an incredible place.

To Bling or Not To Bling

Yesterday I got the official offer for my new job, which included a start date (September 22) and a salary. The salary isn't huge but it's definitely decent by social work standards, and anything is going to feel like a lot after having no income for the past two years.

Today I had to run some errands that required that I go to a mall where there is both a Gap outlet and an Ann Taylor outlet. Naturally, I had to stop into both and see what kind of deals they had for some new work clothes. Though I don't have the income to purchase a lot of new clothes now, I definitely felt that I could justify a few new things - especially a new "first day of work" outfit (thank you, H, for putting that idea into my head!).

Sitting around tonight watching the Sox game, I found myself online browsing jewelry on craigslist (I accidentally clicked on the "craigslist" tab and then decided I should click on something I had never clicked on before, which is how I got to "jewelry"). Most of the pieces listed were entirely forgettable. But this one caught my eye:

It wasn't the gold band that did it for me (I'm more of a white-gold/platinum gal myself), but the setting. It's interesting. It's different. And according to the post, the diamonds were hand-cut by the seller's grandfather in Kentucky. That's pretty cool. 

However, despite using the change in my employment status to justify my clothing shopping spree earlier in the day, I did not use that same logic on the ring. I determined that only if my salary were 3-4x larger could I justify purchasing celebratory bling, and so the ring remains online. My two pairs of new pants and three new tops, on the other hand, are hanging happily in my closet.

Glass Half-Full

It is only appropriate after my last post about my mother finding a matchmaker to help me get a date that I get a call from my sister telling me she is engaged.

Now let me first just say for the record that I am absolutely excited for her and I love her and I love her fiance and she deserves all the happiness that will come to her with this wonderful man.

And yet... she's my little sister. And in less than 6 months she has purchased a house and gotten engaged. I think I'm starting to understand a little bit how it must feel to be a younger sibling, watching your older sibling go through all the important life milestones first and being happy and also jealous at the same time.

I'm not a glass-half-empty kind of person by nature. I'm really happy with where my life is right now and I'm not the type to feel sorry for myself about being single. And yet there's a piece of me that is definitely getting a little down that I haven't yet found someone with whom I can spend my life.

A few years ago, my standard line was, "I know there is someone out there and I'm not worried - I'm sure we'll find each other." I still think that today, but I have to admit I've now considered that it might not happen. DON'T WORRY reader friends - I haven't considered it too seriously. I'm definitely not giving up. But the fact that I've admitted to myself that this whole "finding a life partner" thing might be a little harder than all my coupled friends make it look is noteworthy, I think.

I had a friend who told me recently that she had been thinking about all her single friends and could say why all of them were single... except me. Now of course she could have been saying that to be nice, but I like to think she meant it. I definitely have single friends who are single for good reason (and often don't know that reason), and I also have single friends who are absolutely relationship-ready, but just can't seem to find that person.

I've been "relationship-ready" for a while now. It didn't come easy - there was a lot of soul-searching through reflection, conversation, bad dates, and bad poetry before I figured out who I was and what I wanted. And now I know exactly what I want and unlike the me of years past, I'm not willing to settle for less.

But is that really a bad thing? I like that I'm clear about what I want. I like that I know what I'm worth and that I know (after some memorable experiences) I don't have to or want to settle for less. I believe that I can have funny and kind and intelligent and independent and adventurous and mellow and sexy and an understanding of the rules of basic grammar all in one person.

Most importantly, I still believe I can find that person.

So this is a public pep-talk, I guess. A reminder to myself that despite all signs pointing to the contrary, I will most likely not end up an old maid. (And a reminder to all of you out there who are reading this and who are in relationships that the LAST thing I want to hear is any variation on the popular, "Yeah, it's tough out there, but you'll find someone!")

The fact of the matter is that though I haven't found someone for myself yet, I can still be really excited and happy for the other people in my life who have. And it's not like I don't get to have some fun in the process too - fun weddings to attend, the honor of officiating and/or being the maid of honor in a few, and now the baby showers (oh, the baby showers!).

There are times that I feel that I am overflowing with happiness for others. But it is shared happiness, and it is mine just as much as it is theirs. I feel so lucky to share in the lives of so many incredible people. And though I haven't found funny and kind and intelligent and independent and adventurous and mellow and sexy and an understanding of the rules of basic grammar all in one person just yet, my friends encompass all of those qualities and can fill that role in the meantime.

So for now, I continue to celebrate life milestones with others, and to trust that the happiness of finding a partner-in-crime-for-life will come to me to.

I Heart Free Air Travel

So I returned home from class tonight to find an email waiting for me from Southwest Airlines with the subject heading Bonus Credits for a Hometown Victory. They're giving me 3 bonus credits (16 equals a free flight, so 3 is no small change) because THE RED SOX WON THE WORLD SERIES. This email makes me want to say publicly (to the handful of you who read my blog) that Southwest, despite its cattle-call boarding system, is pretty awesome.

Speaking of THE RED SOX WINNING THE WORLD SERIES, I was walking to school from my internship tonight (both which are near Fenway) and there were no less than 4 helicopters and one blimp flying overhead to report on the fans gathering to welcome the players back home. It was fun to be that close.

Not sure yet if I'm going to be able to sneak away from my internship tomorrow to see the start of the parade, but I'm gonna try!

This past weekend was my a cappella group's 45th reunion, so I spent the weekend in cold and rainy Vermont singing my heart out with about 60 other women. It was an amazing weekend, and energized me in a way that I really needed. I came home feeling refreshed and ready to tackle the second half of this semester.

Also (this is BIG news!), I came home to newly washed sheets. Ok, the sheets being clean isn't really big news (ok, it kind of is), but what IS really big news is that before I put my clean sheets back on, I put my heated mattress pad on my bed. Then I went away for the weekend, so last night was my first night of the season with the heated mattress pad. For those of you who have never experienced the wonder of the heated mattress pad, let me just say this: mmmmmmmmmmmmm. Despite my bedroom being somewhere around 50 degrees last night (here's why), I was snug and warm.

Almost took away the sting of my fantasy football team losing yet again.

Almost.

Exhaustion Sets In

So my schedule is kind of nuts... Monday-Wednesday, I have my internship all day. Thursday I babysit all day. Monday and Tuesday nights I have class from 6:45-9:15. Thursdays I have class from 4:00-9:15. And then there are Wednesdays...

Every other Wednesday I babysit for a family to allow the parents to have a date night. But on the other Wednesday nights, I have class. From 4:00-9:15.

And what I'm discovering (after my second of these such weeks with Wednesday classes) is that I am 100% exhausted on those nights. I just got home from class, and I am ready to crash. All I have the energy to do is watch bad TV (yes, the game was already over by the time I got home) and read other people's blogs and sometimes (though not often) update my own.

So now I get into bed by 9:30, watch The Daily Show online, and go to bed by 10 or 10:15.

Kinda kills my social life. But... on the other hand, it's an investment to make sure I can make it through tomorrow.

Gratitude today for:

- Diet Coke
- Josh Beckett
- The sleep I'm about to get

And so it begins...

So school has started, and with it my internship and 2 regular babysitting jobs. Fortunately for me, I find most of those things enjoyable, so even though my life has gone crazy in the blink of an eye, I'm not freaking out.

Well, not entirely.

I've been a little overwhelmed with everything lately. I don't think I went through this stress last year when I started school because I didn't know what I was getting into. I was really excited about everything, and that was about the only emotion I remember having.

This year, I'm both completely excited for my internship and classes, and also completely terrified. This internship is a huge deal, as I'm the first person from my program to ever have an internship working with patients at the hospital I'm in.

Now, after a week of my internship, I am still both excited and terrified. Every day, I walk into the hospital and am filled with this amazing feeling of knowing it's exactly where I'm supposed to be. At the same time, I'm thinking, "I can't do this!" There is so much to learn (finding my way around the hospital, learning the heirarchy of doctors and nurses, and God forbid my pager ever goes off - I won't have a clue what to do!) and some of the family situations I've seen are just tragic. I escaped working with (or seeing) any really hard cases last year, and I have more than made up for it in my first week here. Just reading a case report about the abuse of a child is hard, but then when I see the adorable helpless baby I just read about, it makes it sickeningly more real.

That said, I know that I have the skills and support to do the work I'm there to do. My supervisor is incredible and even though it's only been a week, I trust her completely not to put me in a situation I can't handle.

My uncertainty is a funny feeling to have, because I came off of last year so self-confident across the board - in classes, in my internship, and in life. Now all of those pieces of my life are being re-set in this new school year, and I'm still getting my feet under me. I know it's going to be an incredible year and I definitely feel like I'm where I'm supposed to be - I just need to be patient and trust in that feeling.

And so I remind myself to breathe, because really that's about as much as I have control over in the end, and I try to make sure to notice the happy stuff, laugh at the silly stuff, and to do familiar things that make me feel like me (instead of like the half-crazed alien-me that keeps sneaking in and trying to take over).

This summer at camp, I spent a lot of time working in the office, and it was easy to forget the bigger picture (that there were hundreds of kids running around and having fun right outside). My coworker and I used to share stories of camp moments with each other to help us remember why we were there.

One day, we were walking down the path together and heard a little 11-year-old boy say to his friend "Cool!" and when his friend said, "What?" the boy said, "I just burped and farted at the same time!"

Another time, there was a group of kids headed to dodgeball, and their counselor led them in a chant: "What do we want?" "DODGEBALL!" "When do we want it?" "DODGEBALL!"

These were moments we couldn't have scripted, and we never knew when they'd happen, but they were the highlights of our summer.

So I was walking into the hospital the other day and starting to have that "I can't do this!" feeling of panic, and I stepped onto the elevator with a little girl who was with her mother. The girl was probably 9 or 10, and had a scarf covering her head. She ended up standing near the elevator buttons, and a man asked her to push "8."

"Certainly!" she said in the most cheerful voice I've ever heard in my life.

Man: "Thank you."

"You're welcome!" (again, super-cheerfully)

Woman on elevator: "You are a very polite girl!"

"Thank you!" *pause* smile and look over at her mom, "My mother taught me well!"

Woman: "Well, you are lucky to have such a good mother!"

Girl (smiling): "I know - she's wonderful!"


I walked off the elevator with a huge grin on my face, and a feeling of cheerfulness to replace my panic.

It's gonna be quite a year.

I Have Issues.

Ok, we all knew this. But really. I have issues. Specifically, I have serious issues with overcommittment.

And the thing of it is that I can't seem to learn from the past (at least not at any significant rate).

A year ago, I was supposed to be cutting my full-time work down to half-time, and taking a stats course in preparation for grad school. I was supposed to be using all my free time to pack up my apartment and do all the things otherwise associated with moving across the country.

What I ended up doing was 30 hours/week at my "half-time" job, and taking on a second job at which I often spent 20-30 hours/week. I didn't take the stats course, but I did end up working 50-60 hours/week, being stressed every waking hour, and leaving myself not nearly enough time to prepare for my move, which is why the day I was to leave SF, I was still trying to figure out if I could squeeze the blender into my car, or if would have to be left on the curb (answer: it fit on my lap for the trip down to LA and I re-packed the car down there).

So this summer, I think that I might have actually made a tiny step towards progress on this overcommittment front. As it stands now, I'm still babsytting for the two families I sat for all year. This ends next week. So that's a day and a half a week. And on the other weekdays, I have started working in the office of the day camp I'll be working at this summer. Full-time camp work starts the week of hte 25th. So my days now (and in the future) are pretty full, but do-able.

And then there are my nights... I decided that I needed to learn both Spanish and Sign Language RIGHT NOW and so I have Spanish class on Monday nights and ASL on Wednesday nights. And I've had 2 trainings for work in the evening this week, and I have 3 evening trainings next week, plus an open house on Saturday.

How does this mean I'm making progress on the overcommitted front?

Well, the two classes are both community ed classes, and are not for credit. Therefore they don't have tests or homework (other than the generic "practice at home"). Also, I was going to take a for-credit class (yes, in addition to the other two) on Tuesday nights that I didn't end up taking.

Progress is slow... but it's progress.

It's the little things.

So LB is done, and I'm wildly jealous. I'm sitting here in the library, typing away at a paper that just doesn't seem to be finding its way toward an ending anytime soon. And I had 2 classes back-to-back tonight, and I'm generally tired and kind of hungry and mostly I want to go home and go to bed.

And then a girl from my class comes into the computer lab and says hi. And then she says, "You know, Phoebe, I just want to tell you that you're really supportive."

And I'm not sure where this is coming from, so I sort of look surprised.

And she says, "No - I'm giving you a compliment" and she goes on to tell me that she appreciates how I stand up for myself and others in class, and how some people do it in a negative way, but I remain positive. And she tells me that as I handed a paper in to her last night, I thanked her, and how that made her feel appreciated.

And I was reminded yet again that it's the little things that often make a difference - the things we don't even know we've said or done.

And I went back to my paper (after typing this here blog) with renewed energy and a smile on my face, because sometimes - not often - but sometimes, you can find yourself the recipient of kindness and appreciation when you least expect it (and when you most need it).

Self-Science-Experiment Update: Good News, Bad News

Good News: Triglycerides are back down to normal levels. In fact, they're exactly half of what they were 6 weeks ago.

Bad News: Cholesterol level is exactly the same, HDL is lower, LDL is higher.

So it looks like I'm going to get to know my PCP a little more quickly than I had anticipated...

When did I get old?