The Lobster and God

I look like a lobster. It's true. My face is beet red and starting to peel. I am on day four. I would love to have an exotic story about how this came to be. I have thought of a few scenarios - skiing in Colorado in the sunshine and wind or lying on a beach in Mexico, drinking a margarita and falling asleep with a book in hand. That would make the current look worth it. The truth is far less glamorous and is more along the lines of 30 minutes in the dermatologists' office under a bright light that fried my skin in hopes of taking away precancerous spots on my face and buying me more time in between their growth and development.

My dermatologist had brought up this photo therapy before as an option but I wasn't really interested until I realized I had met my deductible and was tiring of the regular freezing off of precancerous spots. So I agreed and scheduled it when I had a few days off in case I looked a bit red. I was not prepared for what I actually look like - or that I would still look like this four days later. Just the rule of staying inside for 48 hours was hard enough but then when my house arrest was up,  I realized I wasn't too excited to go outside considering my current look. The only time the past few days that I have not been uncomfortable is when I am outside running in the dark and the cold air is hitting my face.

Today when I got up I really debated whether or not to go to church with the kids. My face is still pretty dramatic. I am not one super excited about drawing attention to myself. I even told the kids I wasn't sure I was going to go because I was self conscious about my peeling, red skin. Then I heard myself and realized the ridiculousness of what I was saying. We were getting ready for church. Church. I know different people have varying reactions and experiences with church. With all the life changes this past year I haven't always found it to be the most comfortable place for me to be. But, the premise of church, is a gathering place to worship God...A God who I know loves me, lobster face and all. A God who never would have sent His only son to live on this earth if we were all perfect. A God who sees ALL my imperfections and loves me anyway. If I choose not to go to church because of my self consciousness over my red face, what am I saying to my kids? We should only go when we are feeling and looking good? That is actually the exact opposite of the message I want to send. God sees and loves the broken. He KNOWS I am not perfect. So....I got myself dressed, slapped three pounds of lotion on my face and went to church. I am too imperfect to even try to pretend I am perfect any more. It's too tiring and not honest.

I have had a lot of time to think the past few days. This face experience is really a fitting way to end this messy, sometimes uncomfortable year. There has been pain, self examination, kindness and healing this year. I have not always felt like getting out of bed and going outside to face the world, even before I looked like a lobster. But you have to keep showing up...even when you are red, peely and uncomfortable. Merry Christmas. And may we all find more kindness, love and truth in the new year.

More peace and less regret

To regret (verb) 1. feel sad, repentant, or disappointed over (something that has happened or been done, especially a loss or missed opportunity). dictionary.com

I have been thinking about this word a lot this past month. We have had a higher than average number of patients on comfort care/hospice at work. A few have died at the hospital while others have left to finish their journey at home or a care facility. I have been the nurse for a couple of them. I consider it a blessing to be able to care for someone at the end of their journey. It can be a sacred experience and I try to do what I can to make them more comfortable as their physical time on earth comes to a conclusion.

I have thought a lot recently about what that would be like to be at the end of the journey - how would I feel about my time here? Would I wish I had done more? Said more? Erased certain times? Do I have regrets? I believe the honest answer is no. I hope I have decades more to explore, love, laugh and live. There is a lot I would still like to do, see and say. But, it is refreshing to realize that I don't feel regret.

To regret something would mean I would wish it hadn't happened. And I have my moments. But this is not a way I want to live. I believe that every decision I have made, path I have traveled, has lead me to here. And here is pretty good. Have I made mistakes? Definitely. I make them probably daily. But, if I am paying attention, I learn from the mistakes. They usually make me better. My kids know I screw up ALL.THE.TIME. I was hanging the Christmas lights and putting in garage shelves last weekend. Tears, swearing, sweating and do overs were involved. I still got it done. Hopefully seeing this reminds them that they are free to make mistakes too. Life is too hard to try to be perfect. I believe I have apologized for the wrongs I have done when I am aware of them. I am not afraid to say I am sorry when I have made a mistake. I think that, in part, keeps me from regret.

I didn't become a nurse until I was 39. Do I regret not doing this earlier? Absolutely not. I needed to grow, learn and age before I was ready to be a nurse. I was not prepared to see the blood, phlegm, sadness and crazy that I now see regularly. Another bonus: I saved my back for decades which is good since I will likely have to work until I am 80. Some people are ready to be nurses at 22. I was not. 39 was just right for me.

I am working hard to live in the now. It doesn't always come naturally to me. I can mull things over too long instead of letting them go. I am also a planner - always trying to be ready for what happens next. The patients this month have reminded me to live in the here and now. When I am truly present, I can find the pure joy in a face time conversation with a friend that has me laughing so hard my stomach hurts. I can find joy in waking up to a text after a hard work day telling me to pull out my sparkly headband for work and that my Starbucks will be delivered to me.

Living in the now makes me appreciate the dinner time conversations with my kids that you can only have with teenagers. I have a whole new vocabulary - although when I tried it out on them a few days later they were HORRIFIED. It was great fun. I can look at my sweet Christmas tree in my new house and love it knowing that Mason worked for a looooonnnng time whittling the trunk to try to get it in the stand. It smells amazing, has beautiful lights and ornaments and is perfect.

Living in the now allows me to enjoy the way up Dog Mountain even though it was cold and steep. We had to do the steep to conquer the top. I wouldn't have enjoyed sitting in front of the fire at the end of the night if I hadn't worked so hard each step of the way.

There is no good end game with regret. Instead of regretting things that have happened I have learned to appreciate that they have been a part of who and where I am. Today I will find joy in today. And I am grateful for the patients I have met this month that reminded me to appreciate the journey.

Gratitude and Four Crazy Women

A couple of weeks ago I said the words out loud...."I don't think I can handle one more thing." I try not to say this often. When I am in my right mind (maybe half the time?) I can list all the positives and they SIGNIFICANTLY outweigh the negatives - like it isn't even close. I know this. I was just having a moment where somethings were burying me - some unexpected minor health things, work stressors, blah blah blah. If I looked at each one individually, not a big deal. I was just feeling the weight at the moment. And then I said it...to a friend. I shouldn't have been surprised when that one more thing came knocking just a few days later. Again, alone, nothing major. I forgot about this damn spot on my arm my dermatologist had biopsied. Totally off my radar since I spend so much time in my dermatologist's office anyway. We are friends now. Anyhow, it came back cancerous. This is not the end of the world. I just need to go in, get it completely removed and up my visits to see him. I like to think he likes to see me so often because of my fabulous personality and not my crappy skin. Whatever.

This is not a big deal but it rested on top of a pile that was already getting to me. So....I gave myself an hour to cry, take a car ride with Annie, and feel sorry for myself. Then, I got to work on the list I created for myself on my 46th birthday. I made a bucket list - but just for this year. Each year is precious. I don't need a bucket list for life - nothing is guaranteed. I need one for right now. This year. It is short. I'm not going to disclose the few things that are on it. It's mostly just for me. I knew if I could start making some progress on it, I would feel better.

One of the more ambitious things on the list is hiking the Grand Canyon. I have never seen the Grand Canyon. A friend told me a few years back that she had been invited to do a rim to rim hike. I have always loved being outside and hiking so this sounded like the perfect way to see the Grand Canyon. I made a list of my friends that might be just crazy enough to join me. It's a short list. I floated the idea to one of my besties, Jenny. Always honest, her response: "I want to want to hike the Grand Canyon with you." I love her. So basically I read this as  - "please don't ask me to do this with you. I will if you need me but I don't really want to." I could probably do this myself but I don't really want to and it seems like not the safest idea. Rim to rim is 23 miles of super intense hiking with crazy elevation gains and losses. So, I looked at my short list and started a group chat with four fabulous, beautiful, smart, funny, kick-ass women.

Guess what???? THEY ALL SAID YES. We are in. Let's do it. You are crazy. Are we going to die? 

I love these women. Our common connection is the medical field. Smart move on my part. I want women who can resuscitate me or administer first aid if I need it. So we are making plans. We have training hikes planned and are going in April. I am SO EXCITED. One even convinced me to finish our trip in Vegas to celebrate our accomplishment. I have never been nor have I ever really wanted to go but I agreed. If she is crazy enough to meet us from Chicago at the Grand Canyon, I will go to Vegas with her.

Their willingness to be part of my bucket list, to love me when I don't always feel lovable, to experience life with me, caused my negatives to drop significantly. I can do all the other things again. The list of hard seems smaller at the moment. It always does when you have people who believe in you on the journey.

I am reading Anne Lamott's book "Almost Everything: Notes on Hope." She wrote this about gratitude: "Gratitude is seeing how someone changed your heart and quality of life, helped you become the good parts of the person you are." No matter what our training and hike ends up looking like, I have incredible gratitude for these four amazing women. And in this upcoming week on Thanksgiving, I am reminded of all I have to be thankful for.

The Blessing of the Train

A week ago I ran the Portlandathon Half Marathon. I did it to raise money for Sherwood Young Life, which is a huge part of Audrey's life right now. I was pretty well trained and looked forward to the run - well, mostly. Usually come race morning I am nervous, regretting my decision and texting Jenny. She always gives me a pep talk and convinces me to actually make my way to the starting line. There was a good turnout and the weather was decent. Audrey and a couple friends were going to be at the start/finish to cheer on everyone running/walking for Young Life.

I have a history of ALWAYS starting out these runs too fast. I can't help myself - adrenaline, nerves, the crowd. ALWAYS. I feel pretty good until about mile 8-9 and then I am DYING. So, this time I decided I would try something different. Sometimes races have pacers. I have tried to stay with a pacer before but my enthusiasm usually gets the best of me so I pass the pacer and then they often pass me in the end. Makes no sense. I know. This time I told myself I would stay with this pacer the ENTIRE TIME. I was proud of myself. Way to try something new. I was going to feel great at the end of this run. The problem is YOU SHOULDN'T PICK A PACER/PACE THAT IS TOO FAST. And I did. I decided to pick the pacer that runs near the top of my mile pace. So, guess what? By mile 8 I was dying. Same story. I even had to pull myself over to the side for a minute and give myself a pep talk. The route wasn't very pretty. Five miles to go still seemed like FOREVER. So, after a minute I convinced myself to start running again and to just slow it down. I don't consider myself a very competitive person in general. When it comes to beating myself though? Very competitive. I want to go faster. I want to beat a certain time that I have set. It isn't about the other racers (well, most of the time). I am running against myself. So, I told myself to chill.

The pep talk, combined  with my new favorite running song and life anthem, Pink's "I Am Here," convinced me to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Around mile 10 I also ran by a guy running the half in his exoskeleton with a crew of people. Amazing. This enabled a man who was paralyzed to complete a half marathon. With renewed inspiration, I continued. Around mile 11, I rounded a corner and there in front of me, and in my way, was a train. It was a very long and very slow train. A crowd of runners that had been ahead of me had also started to gather. There was no other way for us to get to the end. Clearly some runners were very frustrated. Initially, I was too.  I stopped my timer and stood there with the ever growing crowd.

The marathon had joined up with us half marathoners by then and these are people probably on pace to qualify for the Boston Marathon. And now they had a train to contend with. I felt their frustration. This would likely keep some of them from qualifying. The train stopped a couple of times. In those brief instances, some people decided to climb through/around the train to all the volunteers' dismay. I was nervous the train would start and we would have a medical emergency on our hands. The delay continued but my attitude started to change. I felt bad for the runners trying to qualify but what did I have at stake? I was mentally struggling. I had stopped my watch so I could still get my own accurate time. Audrey was safe and waiting for me. While inconvenient, the train wasn't really a huge problem for me in the scheme of things. I chatted a bit with the runners around me. A few people took videos of the crowd and I rested my legs. By the time the train was finally past I felt rested, renewed and like two more miles was possible. My legs had turned into 100 lb bricks during the rest but once they moved for a few minutes I found my stride again. Before I knew it, the final mile was in sight. The scenery became prettier and I saw the finish line. When I checked my time, I had finished the last two miles post train at a pace faster than I had been going pre-train.

The train was a good reminder. For many it was a huge headache - I am sure the race organizers will be dealing with the aftermath for a long time. But for me, out there running to raise money and not to qualify for any race, the train gave me a chance to rest, catch my breath and get some perspective. The pause allowed me to remember that two miles really isn't that far...less than 20 minutes of my life. I don't always love my first reactions. When I first saw the train I was irritated. But, it ended up being a positive. I need to remember that one. If I could hit the pause button more often before reacting, I  probably wouldn't have to apologize as much - or wish I could relive a moment in time. I have come across a few unexpected trains this past month. Just when I think I might get a stretch of flat open highway....a train. But each time it has ended up being less of a big deal than I initially anticipated. Next time I round the corner to the unexpected, instead of frustration, I will try to remember to welcome the unexpected opportunity to breathe and gain a new perspective.

Skinny Jeans Suck

I love fall and it has nothing to do with pumpkin spice lattes. Honestly, I'm not a fan. I love the cool morning air, the colors of the trees and the start of fall sports - even though both of my kids gave up fall sports a couple of years ago. I generally don't mind summer coming to an end although school does make everything a little more chaotic. The only part of fall and back to school I really dislike? BACK TO SCHOOL SHOPPING. 

To be fair, I don't like shopping even on my best day. Never have. My mom said I was a real pain whenever I had to go shopping as a kid. I always said I had a headache. Maybe it had to do with those 800 perfume smells in the department stores perhaps? Headache perceived or real, I dislike shopping greatly. I can think of 100 things I would rather do than shop - most of them involving being outside. So, I approach each back to school shopping adventure with a bit of dread.

Mason and I are super compatible shoppers. We are in and out of a store in 20 minutes. It's great. No sweat. Audrey and I...not so much. I have tried different strategies, including having other people take her so it's more fun for everyone but this year I felt like I needed to do it. I tried to make it an adventure, we included the Nike Employee Store (which I still dislike but at least I can get a new pair of running shoes with this trip), Starbucks, Cafe Yumm and then we headed to the Woodburn Outlet Mall.

We had agreed on going to just two stores - the Nike Outlet and American Eagle. I was prepped, caffeinated, fed and full of positivity. Truly. Until we got to American Eagle. Audrey was ecstatic as she gleefully went around and picked out 150 things to try on. Mason even found a few things, tried them on and was done in a record five minutes....and then we waited. 

Audrey was no longer chatting with us from inside her dressing room. She had gone pretty quiet. Finally I asked her if she was okay. A long pause and then a super discouraged voice. "I don't like any of it. None of it fits." And then I remembered one of the biggest reason I don't like shopping.....this. How clothes, sizes and fit can change the way you feel about yourself in an instant. I knew that voice coming to me from the other side of the dressing room. I have been that voice. Why can't I even fit my leg in to this pair of pants that is supposed to be my size? Why is this shirt so small? Why is my body not what I thought it was?

I am convinced that whomever invented skinny jeans was either a man or someone who didn't have hips or wished they didn't. They did not make these clothes for strong, muscular women. And, even those of us who think we have a pretty good body image, can be reduced to tears in a dressing room in a matter of minutes.

Mason was standing next to me as this was happening. I got a very familiar pit in my stomach as I began to understand what Audrey was experiencing and trying to desperately figure out the right words to say while dealing with my own memories and feelings related to body image. Mason turns to me and says, "what's the big deal? I'm a bigger size than I was last year." I turned to him and said, "pay attention here. This is an important lesson. This will happen to your sister again and probably to girls you date in the future. This is a real issue. Girls look at the numbers and the models and wonder why their body doesn't look the same or fit into the size they thought it did or should. The sadness and image issues are real." I don't remember exactly what I said to Audrey but I did ask her if I could go pick up some different sizes or look for something for her. I told her what I firmly believe, most of the clothes are not made for 5'9 strong girls and....I am sorry. And I was. How can I keep promoting the message of being strong, healthy and active and not worrying about numbers when an industry is telling her something else? How can I make my voice louder? How can I be more than "you are just saying that because you are my mom?"

I don't know. I don't have the answers. All I can do is keep repeating what I know to be true. My kids are beautiful, strong, kind independent beings and exactly who they are supposed to be. I hope it is enough. 

The Chapter You Don't Read Out Loud

I saw this quote the other day on a friend's facebook feed "Everybody has a chapter they don't read out loud." Yep. This is so true. I know it in my life and the lives I see every time I go to work. Some chapters are meant to be shared and some aren't. Despite having a blog and probably divulging more than my kids would like me to - especially when it's about them - I generally consider myself a private person. There are things I intentionally leave out. Not every thing is meant for public consumption. That's why I struggle writing this...

I am currently in the midst of a chapter I would prefer to not read out loud. The problem is, I don't think it's fair if I leave it for my kids to do on my behalf and I am starting to see that happening. So, here goes....Michael and I got a divorce. I am in the process of buying a house that should close first week in August. While I know this will come as a surprise to many friends and acquaintances, this has not happened suddenly and I trust that if you know us well, you know that this is not a spur of a moment decision. Nobody is going through a mid life crisis. There is no victim and villain in this story. There is just a family trying to navigate a very new and difficult situation with as much grace and love as possible.

We are sad. This is a difficult time and we have two AMAZING kids that we will continue to love and support and we ask that you do the same. I guess my other ask would be related to another quote I saw on my feed the other day: "Check on Your Strong Friends." Everyone has a story. Most we don't know.

The Rearview Mirror

We have had a big month around here and we still have a week to go. Audrey returned home from Malibu full of stories and in love with Young Life's camp located in the Princess Louisa Inlet in British Columbia. She also returned home with bronchitis that took forever to clear and now she is following it with a stomach virus. Mason's month has been much more positive. He wrapped up his high school golf season with a great finish at the State tournament. I definitely was not that passionate about anything as a kid so it is fun to watch him pursue his dreams. I was never asking my mom to wake me up at 5:15 so I could do anything before school - particularly anything that involved sweating. It was definitely a highlight to see his dedication and perseverance through this season and he can hardly wait for summer golf.

As if that wasn't enough, he turned 16 last Saturday. 16. Phew. Since it wasn't a weekday, I didn't have to race to the DMV to grab a number at 8 am. We did what I am sure all 16 year old kids do for their birthday... we took 16 friends to golf for the day. He was in heaven. I had been thinking about this milestone for about a month. Once he turns 16 and starts driving his need for me changes. Let's be honest, at the age my kids are right now, most of my time with them is spent in the car. I drive them EVERYWHERE. My coworkers think it's funny that most of the meetings we have on days when I don't work, I call in.....and I am always calling from my car. If it's a meeting where we are talking about things that teenagers might find disgusting, I make them put in their ear buds. It's just what you do as a parent of kids this age. You drive. All. the. time. 

Sometimes I complain about the driving - especially when they both need to be somewhere at the same time. Sometimes I get tired of being on the road and singing in the car. But, more often than not, I kind of enjoy it. We have had some really good conversations in the car. Here they are - stuck with me in a moving vehicle. A captive audience. I wouldn't trade that time for anything. Mason and I especially have had good car conversations. Audrey, on the other hand, will often turn her full body away from me in the car to avoid engaging. Teenage girls are a special breed that I am still trying to figure out.

So I started thinking of how things would change when Mason started driving. I would no longer have the same concentrated time with him. I wouldn't connect with the people that I see because I am dropping him off at his activities in the same way. I am excited for him and this new sense of independence. He is a good kid. Sometimes when I say things about him to people who don't know him well, they suggest that maybe I am being naive about certain things in regards to him. I promise you...I'm not. Since age 3 this kid has felt the need to confess anything he has done wrong to me. Sometimes it has been more than I wanted to handle and as he has aged I have suggested that maybe I don't need to know EVERYTHING - just most things. But, shoot, I would take oversharing with under, ANY. DAY. I'm not naive in this area. I know my kid.

So on Monday after school we went directly to the DMV. We pulled our number and we waited. He was nervous and his eyes were inflamed and red because of allergies. I promise. Allergies. It makes for a great driver's license picture. I knew he would pass. He's a smart kid. The test took him like three minutes. And then we drove home, he grabbed Audrey and they went to dinner. Without me. As they sat in the driveway in the drivers' and passengers' seats I went through my safety words of wisdom. Finally Audrey says to me, "mom, you are causing a scene!" That's right sweetheart. It's my right to cause a scene. The kids that have been with me for 16 years are about to drive off on their own. In a car. Without me. And then they did.

I know this is just the first of many huge milestones that are coming in the near future. I know I am not emotionally prepared to handle them. Already I am looking at my weekend ahead of me not sure what it will look like. Two weeks ago it would have involved driving to a lot of activities, mostly golf. Now it will involve watching them drive away. Someone said to me, "it will be great, Now you will have time for all your hobbies." Don't get me wrong. I have hobbies. I like to run and read. I like to dig my hands in the dirt sometimes. But, I also like to hang out and talk to my kids and this will change. It will be different and it's going to take me a minute. I haven't been waiting for this time so I can start my list of 100 projects. I don't have 100 projects. I like them....mostly...at this age. I like who they are becoming and what they want to talk about is interesting.

So, it's been an emotional week. Today we picked up Mason's car and he is already at the golf course. He texted and told me he made it. He is excited. I will let him fly (after he cites the 100 safety rules) and we will figure out our new normal. At the end of his birthday I was saying goodnight to him. I hugged him and told him I was a little sad. He hugged me back and said, "I know, Mom. I am too." And then I knew for sure that we would be okay.

Nurse Life

At the end of a work day, I am spent. I don’t run on days I work because I fully believe for the 13+ hours I am at work, I am expending all my emotional and physical energy. I am pretty drained by the end of my work day - in a good way. In the post running a marathon kind of way. I was talking to a coworker who said she didn’t know she was an introvert until she started this job - and maybe it had created it in her. It’s possible. If you are giving it your all for that many hours, you kind of want to be like a turtle and crawl in your shell at the end.

On my way home from work earlier this week, I thought about what makes up my day - trying to figure out what it is the makes me feel drained.  I think those people who have family members that are nurses or healthcare workers don’t always understand how we can be kind and caring at work but grumpy by the time we get home. I was talking to a friend the other day whose daughter is thinking of being a nurse. When I told her some of the things that make up my day, she was surprised how much time I spend taking patients to the bathroom. Yep. Glamorous. Guess what? I spend a TON of time taking people to the bathroom. As well as a bunch of other things. I love the diversity. It is not for everyone. But if you are thinking about it, here is my day in kind of a stream of consciousness list...

6:15 am. Coffee. Get a run down of 24+ patients from the outgoing night charge nurse - diagnoses, behaviors, progress, setbacks. Make mental notes of the staff/patients that might need extra help based on what is going on. Check the code carts and say a quick prayer that we won’t use them today. Make coffee for the visitors - but don’t drink it because i am a coffee snob. Fill supplies. Answer alarms and call lights. Assist confused people back to bed. Look at the staffing for tonight and tomorrow and alert necessary people that we are understaffed. Check on my friends in ICU, check their candy jar and take out any chocolate, look for empty beds in case one of our patients spirals downward. Return to the floor and realize two patients are indeed circling the drain and seem to be rushing to see which one can claim the one remaining intensive care bed. Assist the direct care nurses and end up transferring one patient who seems to have some significant bleeding to ICU, more patient bathroom visits, passing meds, another cup of coffee, get told TWICE to go to hell by a patient I am trying to help. More meds, more bathrooms, rounds with the doctors, track discharges and admits, help break coworkers for lunch, eat...repeat the above at least two or three more times. Add into this mix irritated family members, sweet patients, a few more admissions and discharges, probably another “go to hell” and then the sad news that the patient we sent to the ICU has passed away. Pause... let that sink in and feel really, really, sad. I touched this man’s hand just four hours ago and he yelped at how cold my hands are. They are ALWAYS cold. I told him what I say often, “you know, cold hands, warm heart.” For a second they seem to forget that I am touching them with my icicles.  I can’t dwell on my sadness for long because there are more patients to receive meds, coworkers to assist, patients to wheel out- - one of my favorite jobs because it takes me off the floor and outside for some fresh air. Making the assignment for nightshift. A few more meds and bathroom trips and it’s time to wrap up. 

The other night I stayed an extra hour to fill in. When I went to assist a patient in a room it became very clear to me why we change shifts at 12 hours. I started my interaction with her with enough patience. But, after I had gotten the patient everything she asked for and was leaving, she asked for another blanket. I retrieved the blanket. I was about to leave and then she asked for some more water. I retrieved the water. I was about to leave and she told me I hadn’t covered her toes completely. Deep breath. Okay now. Time for me to go. I will make sure your night shift nurse comes and checks on you soon. Yep. Time to go home. Nothing. Left. Empty. 8 pm. Leave hospital. Tell kids it was a crazy day. “Mom, you always say that!” Yep. Don’t tell them about the patient the died. Instead remind them not to do drugs or drink to much when they are older - because I have likely seen the adverse effects of these decisions played out on the hospital floor that day. Put on my pajamas, turn on the Olympics and pretend I can triple flip on a snowboard.

Best profession ever. I wouldn’t change a thing.

So Many Feelings

I jokingly told someone that I am not available for meetings on Thursday nights because I am doing my part-time job as an uber driver. I was only partially kidding. On the days I don't work, more often than not I can be found in the car. Thursdays can be especially long. I don't mind it too much. These days are fleeting. In a few months Mason will be able to get his license and I won't have as many opportunities to chat, sing and discuss life with them in the car.

So last night, after getting them home from basketball and golf and trying to get everyone ready for bed - oh and tending to Audrey's newly sprained ankle, Mason asks me if I want to do this personality test that he had to do in class. I think he was procrastinating going to bed and I was too fried to really care or know the difference. I have always found Myers/Briggs and similar tests kind of fascinating, so I was game. He set me in front of his chrome book and I got to work answering all my questions. He told me to do my best to not be indecisive and just pick all the neutral answers.

A bit later he comes back down to read my results. His words, "Oh my gosh, mom. You are almost ALL feeling. I didn't know someone could be that much of one thing!" Um, yes. Have you not noticed? He also was surprised how much I leaned towards introverted. Yep. Meet for coffee. Not at a party. There was one question that asked if you enjoy parties where you dress up or there is a theme. I believe I might have said out loud, "I would rather jab sharp sticks in my eyes." Audrey thought this was a bit aggressive.

As Mason and I read the characteristics of my personality type - which they deemed the "Defender" I was struck by how accurate I thought it was. Didn't hurt that there was a picture of a nurse next to the title. I guess some of our personality traits draw us into the medical field. Strengths of this personality include supportive, hard working, enthusiastic and working on constant improvement. Weaknesses? Overload themselves, take things too personally and internalizing feelings too much. Yep. But because I am working on constant improvement - I am trying to change these things. Because I take things too personally, I am frustrated I don't get there quicker. See what is happening here? Not all these traits work together in harmony.

It was nice to be reminded for a moment not to beat myself up quite so much. Some of the things that bother me about myself are an inherent part of my personality. I am envious of my coworkers who can leave their job at the door. This definitely helps sustain them and will probably avoid burnout. Meanwhile, I still think of patients from months back and have not been able to shake the pale, lifeless face of the man who I saw succumb to cardiac arrest earlier this week. My dreams/nightmares lately have involved balancing patient acuities and treating patients. No wonder I don't always wake up feeling rested.

It was good for Mason to have insight into my personality too. I think he connected for a moment why I have some of the reactions I do. It was also good for me to hear how his test had turned out. I would have picked him as an introvert but he came out with a slightly more extroverted bent - and after he explained to me, I could see it.

These tests aren't all accurate. I don't put great stock in the results and I won't use it as an excuse the next time I cry too easily when I get overwhelmed. But, for a moment, I saw some recognition and explanation that made sense to me about how I react like I do at times. That will help as I work on my constant improvement.