When I told Lisa I was going to start working at your old place, she said: "If Mom were here she would try to talk you out of it!" I never really doubted anything you said about it; but now that I've literally walked in your shoes I'm so upset that you put up with all that you did. I thought I knew what I was getting into, and to an extent I've been right-- working short handed, old equipment, staff tensions, shift-blaming-- this is endemic in the industry and I signed up for it when I enrolled in school. I knew I would be tired but I thought I'd have adjusted by now.
I guess I am saying that haven't; and at this point I'm wondering if I ever will, and I wish you were here to tell me that everything is going to be okay.
And what the hell? How did you do it with your chronic pain and exhaustion? I'm angry at myself for not knowing just how hard you worked. Right, I didn't know, but I wish I had. Of course you were the agent of your own life, meaning, you would have changed things if you believed it was worth it for you and it is my error to apply my opinion to your choices. But SERIOUSLY, MOTHER-- you didn't have to work so goddamn hard.
Maybe it is my own disinclination for struggle that I am trying to justify, and maybe I need to just put in a little more time to it and sleep better. I don't know. I'm starting to feel attached to some of my residents and when there's time for TLC a bubble of joy and love floats up in my chest and I know without a doubt that nothing is wasted and there is beauty in everything. It makes me cry.
Every goddamn thing is making me cry. It's my day off, I think I'll cry.
Talk to you later, Mom.