“Sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.” -Marilyn Monroe
I am constantly reminded to pull up my big girl britches at work. It is easy to complain about the lack of help, the long hours, the intense labor that goes into one of my days. And then I look at who I am caring for, and remember that my chaos looks blissful to them.
Over the last few weeks, I have dealt with some really sad cases. The sort of cases that remind you that your hurt feelings, stresses about moving, or other quality problems really are just good luck. It is by the grace of god that I have a job I love, have a plethora of friends to hold me, hug me and support me during my dark hours, and the right to choose a partner who is crafty, savvy, and who wants to share a lifetime of love and adventures with me.
A few weeks ago, I held space for a 60 year old man who was actively dying of lung cancer. I had forgotten how violent and destructive death can look. As I watched his family tearfully try to make decisions about his end of life care, I realized that there were not enough statistics or intelligent arguments to make such heavy decisions any less painful. This man was drowning and his family's world was falling apart; they had no other words other than "Save Him." I felt honored to watch the compassionate discussion held by a thoughtful and caring physician. I was, and still am, in awe of how this doctor compassionately offered insight, while always allowing the patient and his family to be in control of their destiny. I will miss working with this doctor. She has truly inspired me.
The next day I witnessed a young man of 47 be told his cancer had re-emerged. It was unclear if their was any chemotherapy that could be used to eradicate it. I held his hand, we talked about the loveliness of San Francisco, our mutual beliefs in aliens, and together we got him up to the side of the bed, just so his feet could ground for one moment. It was inspiring and made my temper tantrums about feeling left out of social functions, and my irritation at Nascar about broken cars and workshop clutter seem rather immature.
The move to SLC has brought a rainbow spectrum of emotions for me. I am much less bipolar now, and have surrendered to the excitement of something new. My last day of work is a week from tomorrow. I feel like a chapter in my life is being concluded, and with a happy ending. I think I feel a similar happiness as Noah does as he masters riding his bike without training wheels. Just like him, my training wheels are off and it is time to ride.
I have been overwhelmed by the outpouring of love sent my way over the last few weeks. I am truly beginning to embody the Integration that I have so desperately sought after in the last few years. I feel accepted by my peers at work, and so many folks have gone way out of their way to tell me and show me how much I will be missed as a part of the 4B team. Even though Gabby is out of the country, she calls every few days to check on the process of the move, and I feel so blessed to have her in my corner. Nascar is holding down the new fort in Salt Lake, and even though it has been over a month since we have seen each other, our team work is high functioning right now.
There were some dark days, early this month. The extended version of this move has been exhausting. My bedroom is a mess of boxes and packing paper. Gabby subletted her room while she was out of the country, so I have a new roommate. Bless his heart, he had no idea of my manic tendencies. Lucky for both of us he is an easy-going, gypsy kind of guy. Needless to say, the crazy amount of change in my life has been slightly chaotic, but manageable. I am exercising a lot more often, and have maintained my commitment to not abuse alcohol in the name of stress reduction. I have had to make some hard decisions and I have had to slow my roll, but it feels good. The two to three times a week weight lifting and yoga sessions are really making my big girl britches fit my big girl curves better.
Last Sunday I walked the Mission, listening to DJ Professor Stone and shooting photos of grafitti. I was basking in my love for San Francisco. San Francisco has inspired me to become the person I am today. From volunteering at Larkin Street Youth Center for homeless kids and being motivated to go to Nursing School, to reading the Tales of the City books and trying to encounter a counter culture, I have developed a sense of self that was empowered by living in such an alternative and artistic city. The graffiti has always spoken to me, and I have made a habit of shooting photos of some of these masterpieces. On so many walls, in so many artistic ways, are renderings of the woman I want to be. I am inspired by the murals, not just artistically, but also spiritually. Perhaps, as good luck would have it, integration is complete for a while.
|Pan in Pan's Perch|
|For Noah and your love of Transformers|