The 50 mile celebration

I have now outlived my dad. This is what gives me most pause about turning 50. He died 10 days before his 50th birthday. I was keenly aware of the milestone 10 days before my 50th. I remember thinking how crazy it would be if that was my last day. I have lived a full life and am so extremely blessed with my friends, partner and kids. And, also, I feel like there are so many more experiences left to have. 50 still seems so young.

I had many thoughts about turning 50. I have never been too tied to an age or growing older. Of late I often surprise myself when I look in the mirror because my grey hair and increasing wrinkles betray an age that I forget I am. I believe I look my 50 years (and I am not looking for compliments here) but physically I feel better than I did a decade ago. I never stop to consider my age when I am thinking if I can or cannot accomplish something. I have a lot of younger friends and coworkers so maybe that helps me feel like it is all relative.

In addition to a birthday trip to Maine and New York where Dan and I toasted our 50 years on this planet, I knew I wanted to do something else to commemorate the day. Never really one for a party, I knew I wanted to somehow include my beloved people and my love for the outdoors in the celebration. I did not want to run 50 miles.....that just seems too long and painful. So, the 50-mile hiking adventure was born.

Today I wrapped up 50 miles of hiking spread out over 10 days with some of my favorite people. When this idea was forming a few months back, I made a list of friends and hikes. The specific hikes and distance were not as important to me. Each person I asked could tell me what day and distance worked for them and then I would find a hike. The adventure began on October 15. I kept a spreadsheet of the distance and hikes. I had left today open to finish whatever was left to get me to the 50 miles (turns out 5.58 miles).

The last 10 days have been truly beautiful for me. I am forever grateful to all of my amazing hiking partners. It was a chance to catch up, reconnect, enjoy our amazing state and remind me of my beloved community. I know each person who said yes was committing to make time in their schedule to hike and celebrate with me and did so with love. I am a better person for each one of you and the love you have shown me this week. Audrey joined one hike and Mason, since distance prevented him from joining, called me on my actual birthday hike and rode the same distance of the hike on a bike in Indiana to commemorate the day.

My heart is full. I am grateful for a body that will carry me 50 miles. I am grateful for my tribe and all the conversations and miles I have logged these past 10 days. I can't wait to see what the next decade holds.

Mission Impossible

   
I had a friend tell me once, when my kids were small, that she was surprised I had become a mom. It was an odd thing to say. I think she meant it more because I was not outwardly warm and fuzzy and was introverted I guess? It didn't feel like a compliment and it has always stuck with me. And, truthfully, being a mom has been one of the best things I ever did. Mason and Audrey are two of my favorite humans on this whole planet. Which makes this whole empty nest thing a bit challenging.

I did not know this part would be so hard. I was focused on making sure everyone was organized and ready to head off to college for the fall. With Mason at this point, it's easier. He is in his junior year and since school is in Indiana, most of his stuff lives in a storage unit by campus during the year. For Audrey, there was a lot of lists, purchases, plans and angst. She is super organized though so other than one really full day of dorm shopping and picking up some things here and there, she had most of it covered.

I cried when Mason left. I didn't go with him this time. As he was getting ready to go he asked "is this the year you won't cry when I leave, Mom?" Nope, not a chance. I told him that it appears I will cry each time he goes whether it's summer, Christmas or spring break. So we might as well get used to it. I recover but, since we are in the third year and it happens every time, nobody should be surprised.

Since I have done this with one kid already, I knew taking the second kid would be HARD. She is within driving distance which maybe makes it a little easier? Maybe? But, I anticipated the tears and, true to form, they came. And, this is with the entire move-in being PERFECT. Her roommate is lovely and such a good fit for her. She loves the dorm she is in and was already going into rooms and introducing herself before I even left. She has already hammocked multiple times, ridden the bus, found yoga and a church where somehow she scored plants and a ton of fruits and veggies. I couldn't have asked for a better transition.

So....the kids are safe, thriving, surrounded by some good humans and content. That is everything I could hope for. What I did not anticipate is the void left behind. I expected the tears on departure and the strange feeling of not having them here but the void was unexpected.

It makes sense though, doesn't it? For 20 years I have been responsible for the care, mental and physical well being of two humans.  It's wild when you think about it...how dramatically your life changes once they arrive and how for 18 or so years you are responsible for all the things surrounding them? Sure, it changes over time. As they get older and learn to drive, instead of being a glorified Uber driver, you are watching them on Life 360 making sure they arrive safely at their destination or to discover why they aren't home. Conversations change too. No longer are you talking about who they sat next to at lunch or what reading assignment they have but instead discussing climate change, relationships, sex, budgeting...you know, the easy stuff.

The transitions in high school help prepare for their leaving. No longer are you so much the focus as they spend more time with friends. Well...except for covid where they were forced, for better or worse to spend more time together. But even as they grow and mature and you think you are decently prepared....it is still unexpected.

And this is from someone who has a full time job. Also, for the past few years of them being at home, they were only with me about 50% of the time since their dad and I got divorced. And, I have hobbies and friends outside of them. All the things were in place that in theory should make them leaving easier.

But, there it is...a void since they have gone. I miss them. I recognize that my life with them will never be the same. I am not being dramatic. This is how it is supposed to be. Their independence increases. They will still return home for breaks and maybe if they need a place to live short term while they get situated after graduation. But, them being dependent on me for their everyday needs, is gone. And, it's harder than I expected. My role is evolving. I told them both over the summer that I don't know how to parent this age. I am learning and it is not always graceful and I screw up and will continue to. It's okay. It is just how it is.

I am not asking anyone to feel sorry for me. I have two amazing humans out in the world doing great things AND calling their mom and checking in. I will be okay as I learn a new normal. I have a job I love and a partner who adores me. I had a beautiful friend with kids a bit younger tell me that she didn't know the adults felt it quite like this because nobody was talking about it. So, that's why I am talking about it. I have to imagine that each parent who watches their kids leave feels different. It must depend on the kid, the relationship, the circumstance. I have to imagine that some are a bit relieved when they get to this stage. None of this is wrong. My experience is that it is lonely when they go. Pieces of my heart are in Indiana and Washington and I have to carry on in some new kind of normal. It may take a minute, but I will figure out the new normal until the next transition. But this I am certain of.....I have done hard things and can do them again. Carry on.

Who Are You Now?

Summer is such a time of transition for so many. I see Audrey now wrapped up with high school and looking towards her next adventure in college and know the transition is a little unsettling. My friend just told me her 8th grader is having trouble finding a rhythm with summer since she is on the cusp of high school. The unknown, a new chapter. Exciting, disarming, unsettling, hopeful, all the things.

I cried when the graduation march started. My youngest at the end of her time with me. Things will never be quite the same - and not in a bad way. She will need me differently. I need to be different. The tears were happy and sad. I am so proud of all that she has weathered and of the person she is. She ended high school with so many accolades. One of my favorites being "most likely to brighten someone's day." I concur. She brightens mine all the time.

So many changes the past five years. Some I saw coming...some I did not. Dan often reminds me that my value is not in my productivity (trying unlearning 4+ decades of this belief) but in who I am. Okay, but who is that? Many of the roles I associated myself with are....fleeting? changing? In transition? I am no longer a mom of kids at home. I no longer will have people to tell to be home at a certain time or get their homework down before heading out with friends or ask if they will be home for dinner. I know some people see empty nesters as enviable. I can see the benefits but I will miss much of it for sure. I am a huge fan of these two humans I have helped raised. I still cry every time Mason leaves. And I still struggle when he comes home knowing my role as more of an advisor than an enforcer.

In addition to my role as mom, I  put so much value in my role as an oncology nurse. Thinking that that role helped define who I am. And, while I love my job, I am reminded this week that it also doesn't define me. It isn't who I am but what I love to do. For the past two years I have been vigilant about avoiding COVID for a multitude of reasons. Obviously, nobody wants to be sick, but also the thought of passing COVID on to one of my immunocomprised patients is TERRIFYING. They can't fight it like I can. So I have been as vigilant as I can be. And guess what....2 years and a few months in, I am on day 5 of COVID. The irony? I think I got it while one of only a few people masked at a graduation party. I could be wrong. Who really knows? But that's my best guess. And, guess what? I'm replaceable! COVID will not end my run as an oncology nurse. And, I don't believe so far that I shared COVID with anyone other than Dan (who, to be fair, refused to isolate from me). But, in the end, I call in and they replace me. I didn't even get a "hope you feel better." I got a "please refer to the modified flow sheet and we will see you back on day 6 if symptoms are improving."

Like many, I imagine, I have been so defined by my roles: Mom, Nurse, Wife, Believer, Friend. I am just beginning to realize that this isn't right. So, if I am not defined by my roles, who am I? In truth, I think this will be a question I am asking for the remainder of my life but I thought I would start, in the midst of so much uncertainty, with what I know to be true here:

I am a lover of:
Life
My people
Fairness
Autonomy
Order
My People
Running
Mountains

Kindness
Health
Coffee
Learning
Reading
Wine
Chocolate

If you are feeling out of sorts, maybe start with your list. There are so many reasons to feel out of sorts right now and I am finding that being out of sorts leads me to a greater and more real truth. And, once I understand the truth about myself, my beliefs and who I am, action also becomes more clear. So here is to your list and the greater truth.

Mental Health and The Adult Adjacent Population

You know what we don't talk about enough? Parenting the adult adjacent population. I love the term adult adjacent. I was talking to a patient a few months back about my kids. This individual had kids a bit older than mine. We were talking about how they are mostly out of the house, doing adult like things...until they aren't. Until they call you and tell you they lost their phone, inadvertently missed a final exam or only have three day's left of contacts in their dorm (obviously random examples not meant to implicate anyone I know.) This patient referred to this set as "adult adjacent." Brilliant. They have moments where they pass as adults...and moments were they remind you that they aren't there yet.

I did not know how hard this time would be. And I say this from a position of loving who my kids are and who they are becoming. They are kind, smart, funny and remember to call home. I call them out on behavior I am not a fan of and they do the same to me. We have great conversations. It is still DAMN hard. Not hard like when they were small. That was so physically exhausting when they were learning how to walk, run, share, make friends, navigate school. That is a hard time and people talk about that time more. And then in high school it seems like parents often go a bit more silent. Silent for various reasons. Silent because our kids would be embarrassed if we talk about some of the things we are navigating. Silent because we want our kids to keep talking to us and if they thought we were sharing they might stop. Silent because we have years of parenting under our belt so we should at least pretend we know what we are doing.

Guess what? I don't. I have not done this before. I am making it up on the fly. Sometimes I have brilliant moments and sometimes I have terrible ones. I told Mason when he was home for Christmas that I LOVE being his mom AND it is hard to be his mom. And he knew what I meant. And, no worries, he is still talking to me and still loves me.

I have had more conversations than I can count with friends, coworkers and acquaintances that are parenting this adult adjacent set right now. And, the common theme that I am finding is that this population is NOT OKAY. And, as the people trying to love and support and help them navigate through this unprecedented time, we are struggling too.

What a time to be trying to chose a college or a career, meet people, navigate COVID and keep your shit together. I have heard many times how, even when the pandemic starts to recede, we will have a mental health crisis that we are only starting to see the beginnings of. And I believe it. I know so many people who are dealing with anxiety and depression either personally or with their adult adjacent people. So, let's talk about it. Let's get rid of the stigma. Let's use our collective knowledge and intellect and start directing people to help so they don't have to sit alone in the dark.

I have anxiety. Have for years. This is not new. On most days, I am a functional anxious person. Functional though because I have an amazing counselor, partner, and group of friends who love me well. And, I run. Sure, I run for my physical health but even more for my mental health.

I have kids with anxiety. Both of them. No worries. They pre-approved this message. I also have one that was recently diagnosed with ADD. This is not a surprise to me but the journey to name it has been a long one. We are still wrapping our head around how best to create structures to allow him to flourish knowing our conventional learning systems and structures don't work the same for those with learning differences. I am also learning it is much harder to help navigate the healthcare system on their behalf once they approach and turn 18. Providers don't have to talk to you and won't always let you set up appointments. And, as a nurse who works with people 17 and up, I get this. Sometimes having the parent present is not helpful. Sometimes the kid who do better with the parent present. Sometimes. 

I agonize regularly knowing there are limitations to how much I can help my adult adjacents. I can guide them. I can provide resources. I can help reduce the stigma regarding mental health and seeking help from professionals. But then? Then I have to stand cheering from the sidelines, answering the phone, answering questions and support whatever direction they chose. I had no idea HOW HARD PARENTING THIS AGE would be. I said it. And from the conversations that I have had with others who have kids this age, I am not alone.

So, let's talk bout it. Let's talk with our adult adjacents. Let's provide resources. Let's admit we don't know what the hell we are doing but they aren't alone. And then let's talk to each other. Let's talk to the parent who is looking for a counselor for their kid who they just learned is depressed and let them know they aren't alone. This has been the LONGEST two years. Information is changing all the time. Let's admit we are all doing our best. We are here. We will show up for our people and for each other. And if you need someone to walk this path with you, reach out.

Jenny makes me shirts to wear at work that carry messages with them. Sometimes I wear them for my patients, sometimes I wear them for me. I wasn't at work today and I wore this one. This one was for me.

Envisioning 2022

 Life's Work    

I have had a cold this past week. I know it's a cold because I tested for COVID because you can't just have a normal cold any more without panic and doubt creeping in. I think it was a combination of becoming run down with Christmas, work and the whirlwind of activities I tried to cram in - tubing, zoo lights, peacock lane to make this weird world seem as festive as possible. New Year's Eve was a comedy of errors and we ended up serving the kids a fancy dinner at midnight - which might sound like a great plan but when you generally don't function well after 9 pm, cooking at 11:30 is not ideal. Anyhow, it's just a cold.

Feeling a bit low, I watched church online instead of attending. My church, Resonate, is small, spaced and very vigilant so I feel safe attending when I am well. But last Sunday, I watched. In addition to leading the church, the pastor owns my favorite coffee shop across the street. They also serve whiskey at the coffee shop. He also quotes Brene Brown on occasion. I can't think of a more perfect fit for me. On this first Sunday in January he was talking about envisioning the year ahead in a more strategic way. Not resolutions per se, just giving different areas in your life some thought and attention to plan for the year ahead. I am not big on resolutions but I can get behind good planning. One of the areas was thinking and planning around your "Life's work." He did not refer to it as your job but your life's work. The place where you want to put your talent and energy to express who you are. This was probably the only area I didn't take any notes. For the record, I am not much of a church note taker on normal days. I have often resisted places of worship that provide me with a program and an outline where I am supposed to fill in the blanks during the sermon. This is not how I learn AND not at all how I experience God. The church I attend now does not provide those outlines or ask me to do anything I am not comfortable doing. I digress. I said to Dan, "how fortunate am I? I am doing this." I don't feel the need to do any planning in this area. I AM doing my life's work. I have no doubt about it. If you asked me what my dream job is I would say that it is exactly what I am doing. 

I knew once I started nursing school that it would be a good fit. It's the balance for me between the head and the heart. The schooling is no joke. You don't sleep through Pharmacology or Anatomy and Physiology AND you get to care for people. To have real conversations. To problem solve. To navigate a crisis. To work with like minded people. I knew nursing was the right fit and I thoroughly enjoyed my time working in neurology and medical/surgical to learn various skills and increase my knowledge base but being an oncology nurse? I believe that is my life's work. Maybe it will change down the road but for now, I found it. New chemotherapy is being developed all the time. Learning is constant. But even more than the learning are the people. I work with the most incredible people. Some patients come once a month. Some come every week if not more often. I know about their families, their jobs, what they did for the holiday. I know about their nausea and their pain. And they know about me. Many of them know that I miss my Indiana kid and that Audrey is visiting colleges. The place we stopped for dinner after visiting Gonzaga was a recommendation of one of my patients who use to be a truck driver and drove to Spokane often. I have one patient who is avid golfer and after I had mentioned Mason was in a tournament that day and the school he played for she figured out how to find it online and was giving me regular updates throughout her chemo on the progress of Mason and his roommate. 

I know I am fortunate to be spending many of my days doing what I see as my life's work and, as an extra bonus, I get to do it alongside some amazing coworkers - kind, intelligent and funny. My kind of people. The downside? Well, it's oncology. It does not always end well and I get attached. This past month I have seen some loss and it has built up. Just yesterday I learned that one of my favorite patients I cared for when I worked at another location died from his cancer several months ago. I had suspected that he wasn't long for this world when I left that location as his cancer was unrelenting but I was hopeful. He taught me a lot about attitude and kindness in the midst of adversity. I know part of what makes me good at what I do is that I connect with a wide range of people. I dislike small talk. I would much rather just go straight to how you really are than pleasantries. But....this is the same part that makes this job impossible. I have seen people make the decision to go on hospice. I have had conversations with people who were just hoping to live until Christmas. And I can't let that go when I leave work. I think about the people I have shared these sacred moments with. I also want to remember to give just as much importance to the joys I get to experience - such as celebrating with the patient who was receiving her last chemo, or look at the picture of the patients' grandbaby in her first snow. The joys and the heartache are equally important.

I think the cold was one way to force me to slow down. Take some time for self care - which is not my strength - feel the losses of this past month, year and recuperate. COVID is once again sweeping through healthcare and everywhere else. We have staff out with COVID, patients who have cancelled due to COVID and many living in fear. I need to remind myself that it's okay to take a break so I can keep doing this for the many years ahead. So, as I envision my year ahead, I will continue to pursue my life's work AND I plan to get better and keeping myself healthy so that I can continue on with this dream.