A Flowering Vine

When people ask where I’m from, there’s a fleeting moment of uncertainty when I’m abnormally aware of my hands, standing lost and unsure of myself as I decipher the twists and turns of my path and try to pin down my origins. Eventually I collect myself and answer in one of three vastly different ways, depending on the questioning party. And then I act all nonchalant, pretending that the simple inquiry hasn’t just thrown me off my game.

Here are the three levels of answers to that massively complicated question:

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Talk About It And Bring Tissues

Happy International Women’s Day! How did I not know that was a thing? This is a holiday I could totally bedazzle and get behind. I would’ve thrown a fabulous party and made some buffalo chicken dip had I known. Ah well there’s always next year. Unfortunately there were no celebratory shenanigans around here. My daughter and I did get to spend the entire day together, but not because we set out to be extra supportive or empowering. We just happen to both be pitiful and sickly. Turns out we have a gnarly case of the snot plague. Our faces are leaky and our throats are hateful lava holes. It’s pretty gross and I think it’s best if we hold off on trying to be profound or inspirational, at least until all the lisping and mouth breathing subsides. Next year, all bets are off.  We’ll inspire and empower and profound the socks off of next year’s Women’s Day! Go team!

During my travels to the various doctor’s offices and pharmacies today, I noticed several newish vehicles with in-memory-of decals on their back windshields. I don’t entirely understand the sentiment behind a rolling memorial like that and, given my lack of knowledge on the subject I want to be especially careful not to judge. Here’s the thing: I think we need to talk about these uncomfortable topics. Really get in there and talk about them with the people we love and those who care about us. Bear with me here. I’m headed somewhere.

For the sake of setting that uncomfortable conversation in motion, I’d like to hereby state for the record that I will straight up haunt anyone who tries to remember me by plastering my sad death date on the back of their car. Just no. There are a thousand ways you’re allowed to memorialize me: donate my organs, scatter glitter, plant a tree or some happy flowers, write a poem, go on a dolphin cruise, or light some paper lanterns and get weird about the twinkly night sky. All of those things are completely acceptable and appreciated. Just know that the back windshield tombstone is not how I want to go out. I’m glad we got that straight.

While we’re on the subject of uncomfortable end of life wishes, lets really get in there and get awkward about it.

Organ Donation

I know. It’s a touchy subject. I completely understand why you feel that way, but this is a conversation that absolutely needs to happen, so hang on to your keyboards and follow me.

Full disclosure, I am one hundred percent PRO organ donation. If I’m no longer alive enough to use my organs without the assistance of machines, I would be honored to pass on anything worth having to someone still in need of mortal things like lungs and livers. That being said, I wouldn’t judge you for making a different choice due to your values and beliefs, provided that choice didn’t come from a place of misunderstanding or fear.

This is a very personal decision and you should take the time to fully research and understand your options. The thing is, just making that decision is not enough. You have to sit down with the people close to you and tell them what you want. Did you know that even if you’ve designated yourself as an organ donor on your driver’s license or in some registry, your next of kin can negate that decision in your final hours simply by objecting to it? It’s true. I don’t necessarily agree with that, but I understand why it happens. It would be cruel to tear a family apart by going forward with donation despite objections.

That’s where you come in. You have to talk about it, more than once, with more than just one person. If you really want to make sure everything goes as planned and there are no hard feelings or lingering questions by those left behind, set up a power of attorney! Put it in writing so that great grandmother so and so can’t derail your wishes by saying you hated needles when you were two. Also, have a sit down with your great grandmother so and so and tell her what you really think. It’ll be good for you guys. She might think you’re crazy and newfangled but that’s okay because you already know she’s strange and crotchety, and you still want to be just like her when you grow up. You love each other. So talk about the important things while level heads can prevail, and then talk about it some more just to quiet the pesky doubts that tend to grow unnoticed in the dark silence.

I’m too snarled up and sickly to be articulate tonight, so do me a favor and follow this link for some hard core organ donation feels.  There’s more where that came from. Get you some of this, and a big helping of this too. I’ll share my tissues. My daughter and I have plenty of tissues today what with the leaky faces and the snot plague.

Sniffle Snort,

The Glittery Nurse

Benchmark Birthday and New Orleans

It’s the beginning of birthday season in my family, and that has me wondering about what sort of year this birthday might bring. The numbers in my age this time around will be the same sequence of numbers in my birthday itself, which is decidedly promising and full of happy intrigue. This year has already brought so many wonderful things with it, and I’m convinced those magical moments are meant to multiply, without the implied mathery, because I don’t math very well.

So far, I’ve had the honor of joining a profession I’ve always idolized, and gained my RN title, which was not easily earned. That alone is enough to make 2016 worthy of historic notability in my life’s sparkly timeline, don’t you think? I’ve met and connected with some pretty fantastic new nursey type people over the last two months and just last weekend I was able to see New Orleans for the first time! The nurse training program I started in January is finishing up this week and I’m finally going to head home to start the new life that took my family and I years to piece together.

I have so much happiness in and around me right now as I watch my world begin to bloom. Antique dreams that have been in my life long enough to have their edges worn and softened, are bursting out of their soil and looking up at the shining sun full of possibilities. The very words you’re reading are seedlings sprouting from a wish I made as a wide eyed 12 year old looking up through a window at the stars, wanting to be heard. I didn’t know I would get to do this, and I’m amazed and awed that you’re here, feeling it and reading the random things that spill out of my heart.  Thank you for that!

I have some unbelievably cool things in the works for all my nurse friends out there, and I can’t wait to tell you about them! It’ll take some time, months even, before I can spill the beans, but just know this: it’s big and it’s fun and I think you might have a giant happy fit over the impending awesome.  I don’t feel completely prepared for all the plans I have, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned recently it’s that feeling ready is not a prerequisite for starting. If anything it’s a hindrance and a roadblock that could easily stop me from doing anything at all. So I’m pushing through the self doubt, and preparing, holding my head high so as not to miss out on any of the unexpected awesome that might come my way.

I realize these are excruciatingly vague references to things I’m not disclosing, but I’m using these cliffhangers as a pressure relief valve for all my excited, wobbly-stomached feels. Sorry about that. Maybe I should just tell you about New Orleans instead of rambling on about amorphous ideas and plans. Would that be better?

Okay, so my brother and his amazing fiancé live about as far away from me and my family as life could take them, unless you’re the Scott Kelly type. Our successes and loves took us down very distant paths and so we miss out on a lot of the small day to day things. They had planned a trip to Nola, and being that it’s so much closer to me than, say, the moon, I had to go, even if it was only for one night. So I spent every possible moment of my weekend in New Orleans making memories and having a blast with two of the coolest kids I know. They let me be as kitschy as I wanted, and even bought me beads so I didn’t have to abandon my dignity. Wasn’t that thoughtful? They’re pros at New Orleansing, having been there a time or two before.  I on the other hand was admittedly touristy. I drug them around and made them do all the obligatory things, like beignets, grenades, hurricanes, and Bourbon Street.   There were dances in the streets, hoards of friends I’d never met and even sparkly masks with hot pink feathers!

The coolest part was getting to hang out with my soon to be sister. She’s got that thing that all women strive for but only the lucky are born with. She’s kind and authentic and absolutely beautiful. We laughed so much I was sore the next day. I’m pretty sure my brother was glad when I headed home because she’s so much fun, and I totally monopolized her the entire time.  Try as I might, I only feel a teensy bit bad about it. Whatever, he gets her the rest of the year so I took my 18 hours of awesome and I regret nothing.

Seriously I can’t wait to do it again. I got to look up at the stars from a brick-walled courtyard whose peaceful silence was spiritual in contrast to the lively celebration happening outside. We stayed out all night, and my brother told me things I’ll remember forever as we bonded over our appreciation of the night sky above all the chaotic happiness.

I’ll put my glittery hot pink mask somewhere handy in case the need for shenanigans arises. I’ll be ready.

Yes it’s already been a beautiful year for this ordinary girl with lofty dreams and exciting plans. I wonder what magic my next year might bring.

Antiqued and still dreaming,

The Glittery Nurse

Cookie Butter for Sally

It’s tough being away from my family so much, but living in a hotel with a bunch of nurse friends is a truly educational experience. For one thing, nurses have absolutely NO SHAME. No topic is off limits, no matter how graphic, and we’ve been known to travel in jovial irreverent groups to the local pharmacy to pick up embarrassing prescriptions and creams while discussing the merits and pitfalls of female hygiene products and the possible status of each other’s liver. It’s entertaining as well as enlightening.

One of my friends introduced me to a new mini workout. It’s super short but high on giggle factor. Here’s the deal:

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Torrential Downpours and High Kicks

Before I go any further, I have to acknowledge every single one of you who reached out to me after my last post. Your responses were unbelievable! It was like a flash mob support group, and people came out of the woodwork to join in and contribute. Thank you for sharing your struggles with me and accepting my giant flaws with so much kindness. What an amazing thing to be understood, and to find out that we are not so very different even when we feel incredibly out of place. One insightful nurse friend explained her strategy like this: she works very hard at trying to love herself, because she truly loves the people around her. How beautiful is that?!  It’s the best response to the self loathing struggle I’ve ever heard, and I’ve made up my mind to follow in her wise foot steps. I plan to start by coming up with one nice thing to say about myself every single day. Today it’s the fantastic Michael Jackson elevator kick. You’ll have to stay tuned for that, my friends.

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Fire and Determination

This was not the post I intended to write, but in the end I think it’s the right one. The feels were strong the last few days, and they bashed my emotional sphincter incessantly until I thought I’d explode or die.  Let’s just say that I didn’t die.  My inner petulant two year old got her feelings hurt unintentionally, and the wound festered and spewed out all over these pages. But they sat here, full of fire and defensive verbal flinging, for days, waiting on my final verdict. In the end, I had to decide what I really wanted this web page to be, and how I wanted to represent that. After much consideration, I’ve decided to go a different way, to be, at least in this moment, the person I wish I were, and to keep my focus on the one thing in this world that I can ever really change: myself.

I don’t know if this is something unique to me, or if it’s a universal struggle, but I can FEEL what people believe about me. And the more I can feel it, the more I start to emulate the person they believe me to be.

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The Birding of a Prius

I feel like birds are slightly predatory. They’re always dive bombing boats in search of crumbs, stalking beach goers and their coolers, screeching and hollering for no apparent reason, and lying in wait above freshly washed cars.

There’s a wall of giant windows on the left side of my classroom, and I’m frequently distracted by the disturbing antics of the resident bird population. There’s a wily herd of dark little birds who frequent a leafless tree near the parking lot. Every day, they flock there in massive numbers and the desolate tree comes to life with the flutterings of sharp beaked creatures. It would be beautiful if it weren’t so scary and gross.

Birding2

 

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Diet and Didactics: Day 1

I’m happy to report that I’ve made it safely to my destination and uneventfully completed day one of my new nurse training program. So far so good! By the way, traveling with a sandwich baggie full of Splenda in your vehicle looks decidedly nefarious.  I never did find my electric skillet and I still think the laundry had something to do with its mysterious disappearance. If you missed out on the saga of the disappearing skillet, you can check that out here.  The good news is it doesn’t matter because, as it turns out, the place where I’m staying has the cutest little kitchenette that ever did kitchen.  I haven’t used it yet, (see confession below), but

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