Friday, January 13, 2017

Waves are Meant to Break

I am painfully aware of how often I talk about the weather. How bland! Yet it is a blameless practice that usually leads to other topics. If I can be spared from gossip and judgment when speaking, that's good-- so I can forgive myself another post that mentions the weather.

This is the worst time of year in the northeast. I feel terrible. I'm exhausted and cold. Small things take a lot of effort. I haven't had the confidence-- or the energy-- to write much of anything. I daydream about moving to Hawaii. Aloha Ai, indeed.

Today is an anniversary: Mom's birthday. She would have been 74. Knowing this day was approaching has definitely colored my week. All I really wanted was to be left alone to manage my exhaustion and stay current with school.  ...more than anything. But, I was not to be left alone. I know well enough that life does not stop, and some good things happened: the clinical site I'd been assigned to for the past two weeks encouraged me to apply for work when I get my license, saying emphatically that "We've never had a student we liked as much as you." My program director was pleased when she got the report. Overall, I got to see some neat stuff, apply some theory, and I felt pretty confident and capable; if exhausted.

Gratefully, the measures I have in place for simplicity of living do work. About the only thing that would make it simpler is if I had a chauffeur, a cook, and a butler.

Even simplicity can be difficult to navigate when there is unsettled sleep. I had a dream about Mom yesterday morning that kept me close to tears almost all day, made somewhat worse by the material we covered in class, specifically cancer. In and of itself, "cancer" doesn't bother me --I find it endlessly fascinating, in fact-- yet the lecture was ill-timed. At the end of the school day I caved and ate a whole bag of potato chips. It was that; or it was crying, and I was NOT going to cry.

However, wisdom speaks in many voices, even if not specifically addressing me. I rode this tidal wave of grief, with God holding my hand, all the way home last night. After I had enough of the crying I made myself sing so I could catch my breath. Home, I found Jon cheerful, observant, and cajoling me in on ordering pizza. He hugged me, not letting me off the hook. "I'm not hugging you for you. I'm hugging you because we have to decide if pizza is going to happen."

It happened. We stuffed ourselves on pizza and watched Caddyshack, and I didn't dream last night at all.