I've always been a BIG worry wart. I worry about my life, your life, their life. I worry about the weather, my family, friends and pets (if I had them!). I worry about the price of gas, why orange is such a popular color and how on Earth I got to be 32. This is staring to sound like a bad version of a Pattly Loveless song! To make a long story short, I worry. A lot. Nearly everything I worry about is way out of my control. But, I still feel the need to worry about it. Why do I do this to myself? It's like a game. Emily, sure it's necessary to worry when the price of milk will start coming down. And, those credit card bills? Yep, worry about those, too. Why aren't you a size 4? You probably ought to worry and obsess about the scale...just add that to your ever-growing list. Why not! Do you see a pattern here?
I worry to the point of feeling anxious about "things" that worry me. Sounds great, right? NOT! Most people that know me will agree that I am a super control freak. If I don't have control over MOST of life, then that's just not good enough. So, if you're gonna throw me a surprise party, think again. I didn't spend months and months helping you plan it, so it's obviously gonna suck and not be absolutely perfect. WTF? And, that speech you just delivered? Yep, I would've given a better one. Oops, that leads me to another one of my flaws. Pride. Sure, you might think I am generous, but I'm usually just harboring feelings of resentment for anyone that has the nerve to do something better and faster. I have to be the best at everything and feel like a total failure when I am proven wrong. Anything you can do, I can do better. Oh yeah, you baked that cake in 35 minutes? Well, move over, 'cause I can make it in 34. Seriously, this is how my brain works most of the time. I'm not saying this holds true when it comes to my friends. I am genuinely happy for anything they do. But, if I don't know you, then it's game on. Let's see who can tie their shoelaces the fastest. I can pretty much make a competition out of any activity.
What's your point, Emily? I knew you'd ask. My point is this. I'm beginning a journey to stop these behaviors. As Brooks and Dunn sang, "I saw the light...". Good thing, too. I've been drinking a little too much "haterade" for my own good lately. You know what's helped me the most? Running. Yep. Running has forced me to get really honest with myself. I've realized that I haven't been all that nice lately. In other words, I need a filter for my mouth! If you've been acting like a "douche bag", then I've been letting the whole wide world know it. Screw you if you don't like me. Screw you if you don't agree with everything I do. Screw you for not thinking I am an amazing person. I'm slowly learning that that's not a wise thing to do. At least not broadcasting it to anyone and everyone who'll listen! As the song goes, sometimes the "tales grow taller on down the line". Running has become my own "white flag".
Why do I let someone's opinion of me influence my life so much? I know why. Because, like most girls who are like this, I have issues with self-esteem. Hence the reason why I started running in the first place. I'll admit, I did it for reasons that I am not proud of at this moment. Yes, I did it because I thought someone had done me wrong. It doesn't matter who. Hell, at the time I started, it could've been a dog. Anyway, I started running as a sort of "middle finger salute". Like a, "how dare you treat me like that?". Well, I'll show you. I'm gonna do something that you probably think I can't. Fast-forward nine weeks and I feel great! I've slowly let go of those old tendencies. Granted, the middle finger has come down and I feel no ill will toward anyone but the person who thinks orange is the new black. Three months ago, the only thing I would've run to would've been a bowl of ice cream or a bed! Now? I'm running for me. I'm running for anyone that thinks it's impossible. I'm running for my health and well-being. I'm running to prove to myself that I can. And, I have! I will admit that it's been hard at times. I've found myself on the treadmill thinking, "what the hell are YOU doing? You stupid asshole! YOU can't do this?". Well, I've learned to silence that voice inside my head always telling me I CAN'T. Because, you know what? I can. I've been proving that over and over for the last nine weeks. And, I'm going to keep on proving it until I cross that finish line at the half marathon. Watch me. Don't worry. You're safe. I won't give you the "bird"! I've softened...A LOT!
I was talking to a friend this evening about running the Schweizer Fest 2-mile this year. Her reply was, "Yes, but I'm running the six-mile. And, you are, too". How can I argue with that? I can't. I am seriously considering it. Will I be the fastest? Hell no. But, at least I won't be asleep in bed, still hungover from the beer garden like most of TC! I'm a "real" athlete now. I've got miles to go before I sleep...
My old self would've said, "if it's hard, DON'T DO IT". Sorry, old self. but, you're gettin' kicked to the curb. Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out. These running shoes are made for running...and, one of these days, these running shoes are gonna run all over you. YOU being my former "you sure can't run so don't even try" self.
If I've inspired one person to get out there and run 30 seconds, then I've done my job. My new life motto is "pay it forward". I don't wanna be anyone's hero. I'm much too flawed for that title. I just want to be a someone who gets people to change their way of thinking. To stop thinking that they can't do something. As corny as it sounds, you really CAN do anything you put your mind to. Kindly remember that the next time you start to to think this "phat" girl can't run.
Remember that little engine? Yeah, I'm striving to be like it. "I THINK I CAN, I THINK I CAN" :)
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
This Ain't Your Typical "Animal Kingdom" :)
I have decided to really "study up" on the mating rituals of animals. Yes, maybe I have lost it. But, then again, did I ever really have "it"? I think not! So, here we go to the animal kingdom...
1. CATS: I've discovered that a female cat will start by flirting with the male cat (also called a Tom). Of course, there's the beginning of our problem. The male cat actually is called by a common name. Yikes! Anyway, so she flirts a lot. Females go through four hormonal cycles. I won't go into detail with any of them. But, I will say this. The most important stage (and the one that I, of course, found funniest!) is called estrus. It's stage two. This stage is also known as "heat". No, not the NBA team. The queen, as female cats are called (how fitting!), will meow more frequently in an attempt to find her tom. She might rub up against you, perhaps because she thinks you're that "tom". Probably one of the reasons why I don't really want a cat! If you happen to have a cat, be prepared to be in agony for 4-6 days. If, by some chance, Queen finds her Tom, both cats will study each other carefully. The two cats will explore each other's bodies, including licking the face and then staring at the genitals. Seriously? Might as well just rent a porn for the two. Your cat might be quite selective in which Tom she goes after. And, please don't be offended if she goes after a different Tom than the one you foolishly tried to set her up with...shame on you for not really knowing her true tastes :)
2. DOGS: Dogs have always fascinated me. Their mating behaviors are quite unique. The "bitch" has her first "heat" experience anywhere from 6-12 months of age. What a slut! At any rate, this is when the bitches realize the ways of the world. It doesn't take them long to find that male companion. The testosterone level in male dogs reaches its peak around 5 months of age (wow, really?) By this time, their repetitive mounting and thrusting behaviors have probably started to become a nuisance to their owners. I mean, why buy the porn when you can get the act for free in your own backyard? Also, the male and female dog literally get stuck together during the act. OMG. I think I've read enough.
3. RABBITS: "Bunny Sex" has baffled mankind for years, even to the point of becoming legendary. It's not so much that rabbits are always having marathon sex sessions (Ha...they do not), but their ability to manifest an awesome propagation is quite astounding. They can literally make millions from a single sex session. Gives new meaning to "We are the World", doesn't it?!? Bunny courtship always starts with the male rabbit (buck) being attracted to the female rabbit (doe). Gee, I think I liked the minds of the dogs and cats better! The buck's testicles are full and bulging during his virile stage. Otherwise, they are absorbed into his abdomen. Okay, that's just disgusting. To make a long story short, buck meets doe. Buck lets doe know he's interested. He'll start to circle his potential prize, showing off his tail and underside. He'll start to act really crazy and even urinate on the doe. Hmm, I'm glad this concept somehow didn't translate over to the human world. The entire act of sex for rabbits takes about 20 seconds. Then, it's time for "Little Bunny Foo Foo" to hop, hop, hop away :)
4. CHICKENS: The typical mating ritual starts with the rooster dancing around the hen. Perhaps he thinks he's in "da club" and needs to prove his "mad" dance skills. He'll flap his wing around her but, more often than not, the smart hen will run away, only to be chased down by the rooster and mounted...and, that is how the insemination process begins! Damn roosters. I have discovered through hours of research (okay, so maybe just about five minutes!) that roosters are very clever animals. Another ritual involves the rooster's cunning. When a rooster feels the need to get a hen pregnant, he'll lead her out to food. He'll do this by making a loud, high-pitched clucking sound. Being a gentleman, he'll kindly let the hen eat first. And, out of nowhere, he'll mount her from behind. What a typical male! At least the hen got to eat first :)
5. BANANA SLUGS: These slugs are really funny! The average eight-inch slug also has an eight-inch penis. When he first realizes this, I am sure he's probably really, really stoked. When he hears through the grapevine that his potential mate could actually chew it off, he probably becomes just a wee bit depressed! As you can see, this fact could cause a huge problem for the banana slug, because they must find a mate that is the same size. If they happen to have been born with crappy eyesight, they won't properly fit and then the mate will gnaw on it like a chicken wing to solve the length problem, or lack thereof! The record holder for slugs had a penis five times the length of its own body, which I can only assume it wrapped around its head as protection on a cold winter's night :)
Moral of my research? I've learned nothing but this...everyone and everything has sex. Men. Women. Cats. Dogs. Rabbits. Chickens. Even those damn banana slugs! It's everywhere. On TV. In bedrooms. In cars. On the ground. In a van down by the river. Everywhere, people!
Now, it's time for me to get back to my own porno...and, it's happening right in my back yard :)
1. CATS: I've discovered that a female cat will start by flirting with the male cat (also called a Tom). Of course, there's the beginning of our problem. The male cat actually is called by a common name. Yikes! Anyway, so she flirts a lot. Females go through four hormonal cycles. I won't go into detail with any of them. But, I will say this. The most important stage (and the one that I, of course, found funniest!) is called estrus. It's stage two. This stage is also known as "heat". No, not the NBA team. The queen, as female cats are called (how fitting!), will meow more frequently in an attempt to find her tom. She might rub up against you, perhaps because she thinks you're that "tom". Probably one of the reasons why I don't really want a cat! If you happen to have a cat, be prepared to be in agony for 4-6 days. If, by some chance, Queen finds her Tom, both cats will study each other carefully. The two cats will explore each other's bodies, including licking the face and then staring at the genitals. Seriously? Might as well just rent a porn for the two. Your cat might be quite selective in which Tom she goes after. And, please don't be offended if she goes after a different Tom than the one you foolishly tried to set her up with...shame on you for not really knowing her true tastes :)
2. DOGS: Dogs have always fascinated me. Their mating behaviors are quite unique. The "bitch" has her first "heat" experience anywhere from 6-12 months of age. What a slut! At any rate, this is when the bitches realize the ways of the world. It doesn't take them long to find that male companion. The testosterone level in male dogs reaches its peak around 5 months of age (wow, really?) By this time, their repetitive mounting and thrusting behaviors have probably started to become a nuisance to their owners. I mean, why buy the porn when you can get the act for free in your own backyard? Also, the male and female dog literally get stuck together during the act. OMG. I think I've read enough.
3. RABBITS: "Bunny Sex" has baffled mankind for years, even to the point of becoming legendary. It's not so much that rabbits are always having marathon sex sessions (Ha...they do not), but their ability to manifest an awesome propagation is quite astounding. They can literally make millions from a single sex session. Gives new meaning to "We are the World", doesn't it?!? Bunny courtship always starts with the male rabbit (buck) being attracted to the female rabbit (doe). Gee, I think I liked the minds of the dogs and cats better! The buck's testicles are full and bulging during his virile stage. Otherwise, they are absorbed into his abdomen. Okay, that's just disgusting. To make a long story short, buck meets doe. Buck lets doe know he's interested. He'll start to circle his potential prize, showing off his tail and underside. He'll start to act really crazy and even urinate on the doe. Hmm, I'm glad this concept somehow didn't translate over to the human world. The entire act of sex for rabbits takes about 20 seconds. Then, it's time for "Little Bunny Foo Foo" to hop, hop, hop away :)
4. CHICKENS: The typical mating ritual starts with the rooster dancing around the hen. Perhaps he thinks he's in "da club" and needs to prove his "mad" dance skills. He'll flap his wing around her but, more often than not, the smart hen will run away, only to be chased down by the rooster and mounted...and, that is how the insemination process begins! Damn roosters. I have discovered through hours of research (okay, so maybe just about five minutes!) that roosters are very clever animals. Another ritual involves the rooster's cunning. When a rooster feels the need to get a hen pregnant, he'll lead her out to food. He'll do this by making a loud, high-pitched clucking sound. Being a gentleman, he'll kindly let the hen eat first. And, out of nowhere, he'll mount her from behind. What a typical male! At least the hen got to eat first :)
5. BANANA SLUGS: These slugs are really funny! The average eight-inch slug also has an eight-inch penis. When he first realizes this, I am sure he's probably really, really stoked. When he hears through the grapevine that his potential mate could actually chew it off, he probably becomes just a wee bit depressed! As you can see, this fact could cause a huge problem for the banana slug, because they must find a mate that is the same size. If they happen to have been born with crappy eyesight, they won't properly fit and then the mate will gnaw on it like a chicken wing to solve the length problem, or lack thereof! The record holder for slugs had a penis five times the length of its own body, which I can only assume it wrapped around its head as protection on a cold winter's night :)
Moral of my research? I've learned nothing but this...everyone and everything has sex. Men. Women. Cats. Dogs. Rabbits. Chickens. Even those damn banana slugs! It's everywhere. On TV. In bedrooms. In cars. On the ground. In a van down by the river. Everywhere, people!
Now, it's time for me to get back to my own porno...and, it's happening right in my back yard :)
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Runnin' Down a Dream...
Well, it's nearly summer and it has once again snuck up on me and my giant arse. Ya know what, though? I'm seven weeks in to the C25K program and I am amazed at how my booty is slowly, but surely, shrinking. Who knew running would actually be beneficial! I used to hate to run. And, I used to hate the people that loved to run. I'd see those dedicated "losers" out running in rain, sleet, snow and hail and wonder if they were smoking the crack pipe. I'm here to tell the doubters this...GET OUT THERE AND DO IT! One step at a time. Seven weeks ago, I was barely able to talk after jumping off the treadmill. Now? I feel great! I am up to running 25 minutes without stopping. That might not sounds like a lot but, to me, it's HUGE! And, now when I'm finished, I don't feel like I am gonna fall over and die. Running, and this program, has truly been one of THE best things that has ever happened to me. Not only for the obvious health benefits (and, the fact that I think someone could start bouncing quarters off my derriere!), but I have gained oodles and oodles of confidence. Believe me, if I can run, I can do anything. Okay, okay, not anything. I refuse to eat mushrooms. Or, brussel sprouts. Or, drink coffee or tea. But, other than those things, BRING IT ON :)
So, I have almost conquered the C25K program. I definitely was a big skeptic in the beginning. I can't do this! It's too hard! I'm too fat! I don't have time! I'm so tired! I'm so hungry! I can't, I don't, I won't...blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. I made a promise to myself that nothing was going to stop me from reaching the end. Not being too tired. Not being too afraid. Not anyone thinking I couldn't do it. I know I'm not the world's fastest runner. I don't want that title. I just want to be able to run and not die. Exercise and not collapse. Rise above the odds and keep going. One mile at a time.
I'm a wee bit embarrassed to admit that, in the beginning, my motivation for wanting to complete the program went a little beyond just the obvious benefits of health and wellness. I am a pretty competitive person. If you tell me I can't do something or somehow doubt that I can do something, then I'll do it. And, do it way better than ever imagined. So, that was my motivation at the start. Now? My motivation is all those people that have been so incredibly supportive. Those that have given me advice. Those that have believed in my abilities. At this point, I'm like the little engine that could. And, you know what? I'm gonna "keep on keepin' on" until I get to my goal. And, that is 13.1 :)
Moral of this story? Go out and conquer your fears. If you want to run, then run. If you want to bungee jump, then take the plunge. If you want to eat a tub of ice cream, then do it. But, can you let me know when that happens so I can invite myself over? That'd be great!
On that note, the Kenyans called. They heard about my story and need some running advice ;)
So, I have almost conquered the C25K program. I definitely was a big skeptic in the beginning. I can't do this! It's too hard! I'm too fat! I don't have time! I'm so tired! I'm so hungry! I can't, I don't, I won't...blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. I made a promise to myself that nothing was going to stop me from reaching the end. Not being too tired. Not being too afraid. Not anyone thinking I couldn't do it. I know I'm not the world's fastest runner. I don't want that title. I just want to be able to run and not die. Exercise and not collapse. Rise above the odds and keep going. One mile at a time.
I'm a wee bit embarrassed to admit that, in the beginning, my motivation for wanting to complete the program went a little beyond just the obvious benefits of health and wellness. I am a pretty competitive person. If you tell me I can't do something or somehow doubt that I can do something, then I'll do it. And, do it way better than ever imagined. So, that was my motivation at the start. Now? My motivation is all those people that have been so incredibly supportive. Those that have given me advice. Those that have believed in my abilities. At this point, I'm like the little engine that could. And, you know what? I'm gonna "keep on keepin' on" until I get to my goal. And, that is 13.1 :)
Moral of this story? Go out and conquer your fears. If you want to run, then run. If you want to bungee jump, then take the plunge. If you want to eat a tub of ice cream, then do it. But, can you let me know when that happens so I can invite myself over? That'd be great!
On that note, the Kenyans called. They heard about my story and need some running advice ;)
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Observations on a Yard Sale...
Let me first say that I am VERY, VERY happy with my share of the money made off of our yard sale. But, it is hard work! Two straight days of getting up at 0500, followed by 4-5 hours of trying to get people to buy your crap is rather daunting. Let me walk you through the steps of the "little yard sale that could" :)
First, you realize something. You realize that you have a lot of "shit" you need to get rid of, but you have no idea where to start. Who really needs roughly 35 pairs of nursing scrubs? You've never worn that grape-colored outfit but, hey, you think you might wear it three months from now. Surely, everyone owns 15 scarves. And, must you have two identical pairs of gym shoes? Come on, Emily...get a grip! So, after what felt like months, I slowly weeded through the mounds and mounds of clothing, shoes, purses, scarves, etc...and, lined them all up. I had a stern discussion with my belongings. I said, "belongings, we've had a good run together. It's not you, it's me. Me, realizing that I need some cash and you ain't cuttin' the mustard anymore. So long, farewell, be on your best behavior because mama is in need of a Mexican vacation".
Add two friends and there you have it. A two-day yard sale of epic proportions. Okay, so in the grand scheme of life, it wasn't that big, but it was big enough. After a lot of blood, sweat and tears (okay, so no one cried, except tears of joy when it was over!), we walked away with a pretty impressive amount of dough. Will I have another one? Probably so. But, let me accumulate even more junk first!
Apart from the actual selling of the junk is the even better people-watching. I never realized there were so many hard-core yard salers until this weekend. Also, no one really knows how to tell time when someone yells "YARD SALE". Last time I checked, a start time of 0700 doesn't mean you can come nearly knock the door down at 0530. I know you want junk, but take it down a notch. Everyone should have a fair shot at the "Linda Ronstadt's Greatest Hits" cassette tape. I think I should've had a starting line with a person pointing a shot gun up in the air. The hard-core people would've arrived at 0530 and could've meditated and stretched before the "race". Once they heard the shot, the could've sprinted to all the junk. "Hands off that seashell," one would say. "Hell no, you can't have that 1985 "We Are The World" T-shirt". People, it's junk. It's okay if you actually show up when it starts. Some people will never learn...you won't miss the good stuff. It's crap. All of it. Hence the reason why it's all outside of the house, sort of resembling "Sanford and Son".
Back to the people-watching. Yard sales bring out people that I don't think have showed their faces in public in years. And, said people bring the whole "fam damily" with them. Little Johnny yells, "don't forget to bring granny. She may need some new perm rods". Or, you just might get hit on by old men and, of course, on the day that you don't take a shower. You look like a real winner. You gather that the man probably had cataracts. Or, he just likes to flirt with anything that has a pulse. Believe me, I think I saw him making eyes at a cat strolling by.
I guess the old saying is true. "One man's trash is another man's treasure". Now, who wants to listen to some Linda Ronstadt?
First, you realize something. You realize that you have a lot of "shit" you need to get rid of, but you have no idea where to start. Who really needs roughly 35 pairs of nursing scrubs? You've never worn that grape-colored outfit but, hey, you think you might wear it three months from now. Surely, everyone owns 15 scarves. And, must you have two identical pairs of gym shoes? Come on, Emily...get a grip! So, after what felt like months, I slowly weeded through the mounds and mounds of clothing, shoes, purses, scarves, etc...and, lined them all up. I had a stern discussion with my belongings. I said, "belongings, we've had a good run together. It's not you, it's me. Me, realizing that I need some cash and you ain't cuttin' the mustard anymore. So long, farewell, be on your best behavior because mama is in need of a Mexican vacation".
Add two friends and there you have it. A two-day yard sale of epic proportions. Okay, so in the grand scheme of life, it wasn't that big, but it was big enough. After a lot of blood, sweat and tears (okay, so no one cried, except tears of joy when it was over!), we walked away with a pretty impressive amount of dough. Will I have another one? Probably so. But, let me accumulate even more junk first!
Apart from the actual selling of the junk is the even better people-watching. I never realized there were so many hard-core yard salers until this weekend. Also, no one really knows how to tell time when someone yells "YARD SALE". Last time I checked, a start time of 0700 doesn't mean you can come nearly knock the door down at 0530. I know you want junk, but take it down a notch. Everyone should have a fair shot at the "Linda Ronstadt's Greatest Hits" cassette tape. I think I should've had a starting line with a person pointing a shot gun up in the air. The hard-core people would've arrived at 0530 and could've meditated and stretched before the "race". Once they heard the shot, the could've sprinted to all the junk. "Hands off that seashell," one would say. "Hell no, you can't have that 1985 "We Are The World" T-shirt". People, it's junk. It's okay if you actually show up when it starts. Some people will never learn...you won't miss the good stuff. It's crap. All of it. Hence the reason why it's all outside of the house, sort of resembling "Sanford and Son".
Back to the people-watching. Yard sales bring out people that I don't think have showed their faces in public in years. And, said people bring the whole "fam damily" with them. Little Johnny yells, "don't forget to bring granny. She may need some new perm rods". Or, you just might get hit on by old men and, of course, on the day that you don't take a shower. You look like a real winner. You gather that the man probably had cataracts. Or, he just likes to flirt with anything that has a pulse. Believe me, I think I saw him making eyes at a cat strolling by.
I guess the old saying is true. "One man's trash is another man's treasure". Now, who wants to listen to some Linda Ronstadt?
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Run Forrest Run...
This is a true story. Of a girl. And, a dream. And, how the girl is gonna make the dream a reality.
I've always been a rather shy person. Last summer, I thought taking up running would help me break out of my shell. Granted, I was from the school that you should only run if something or someone was chasing you. No one should ever do it for any sort of exercise. In fact, I thought most of those people that I saw trotting down the road had lost it. Who would want to do something so ridiculous? After much coaxing by a few people, I started. Very slow. So slow, in fact, it was almost a fast walk. I started on the treadmill. I figured that was the best place for a "newbie" to start. Less eyes on me. Shy me. I could only run one minute without stopping. Probably because I nearly started hyperventilating. I jumped off the treadmill, sweat coming out of what felt like every pore on my body. I could barely speak. Plus, I had to pee. Not a surprise, considering most of my insides jiggle and shake when running. It only took one minute to get that stitch in my side. How can I do this? How do most people do this? I had to figure this out...and, quick. I wasn't going to give up.
The next few weeks at the gym were physically demanding. I'm a big girl. I have more fat to contend with, especially around the middle. But, I told myself that I could do this. Slowly, but surely, I was turning shy little me into a runner. Well, maybe a jogger. At any rate, I slowly increased my time that I was running and not holding onto the siderails. I always found the first 10 minutes the hardest. I told myself that I would be just fine if I could make it through the first 10 minutes. Maybe it's psychological. The first 10 hurt. Like hell. My calves ached. My knees hurt. There was always a little tennis match in my head. Two players, "Good Emily" and "Bad Emily". Good Emily would be saying, "Look at you! You are running! Go for it and never give up". Bad Emily would be shouting, "Jump off this damn machine and go get a Swiss Cake Roll. Now. Running is for losers". The battle raged on until minute 10. Then, I told them both to shut the hell up and I kept on. Was I actually conquering a fear I'd had for a long time? Surely I wasn't actually becoming a runner. Maybe, just maybe!
I few months went by, and I had slowly made it up to 35 minutes of actually jogging without stopping...wow! I nearly cried when I managed that for the first time. Granted, I thought my legs were gonna fall right off after I got finished, but I had done it. And, I was still alive. I decided that, if I was really gonna do this right, I needed to get the proper shoes. Walking into Swift Athletics on a sunny afternoon in Evansville was daunting. And, quite intimidating. Would they see me and immediately start laughing? Maybe they would just let me down easy. "Um, ma'am, don't be ridiculous. You don't even look like a runner. Thanks for playing, but get out of here". Quite the opposite happened. The people there were extremely friendly and very helpful! They watched me walk and run in the store (a little embarrassing!). I walked out of there with less cash but a comfortable (and, correct) pair of running shoes. That's when I decided to transition to the track.
Most of you will remember that last summer was HOT. No, make that scorching. When I would run at the track, it would be around 9 pm. Even then, it was almost unbearable. But, I wasn't gonna let a lot of sweat stop me. At this point, I had a friend meet up with me. Watching her run around the track made me doubt my abilities. She made it look easy. It was a great push for me. Is she could do it, then why couldn't I? After several laps around the track over the course of a few weeks, it was time for the Schweizer Fest Road Run. I had made it my goal to fun that race. The day of the race came, and I felt confident. My friend and I had made a pact that we wouldn't necessarily stay together. I secretly thought she would race right ahead of me anyway, and I didn't want to slow her down. I couldn't believe all the people that showed up. I had done this race several years prior with my dad. He ended up smoking me in that race. I don't like to admit that, seeing as he is nearly 36 years older than I am...ha! Anyway, back to last year's race. I vowed to start out slow. Hell, I was gonna run the entire two mile race SLOW. I was competing against myself. I wasn't out to win. The gun sounded and I was off. My friend and I stayed together for only a few minutes. It was hard. Probably because of the weather. I think it had already reached 80 degrees by the time the race started at 8 am. 80? Are you kidding? Plus, it was humid. I felt like I could barely take a good breath in. I was not starting out well. I made it to the first mile and grabbed a cup of water and gulped it down. I had to stop and walk. I felt terrible for doing this, but I had no other choice. My whole body hurt. After a few blocks, I started running again. I could barely see because the sweat was falling off my forehead and into my eyes faster than I could wipe it away. Had I gone crazy? The last four blocks were the worst. But only physically. Mentally speaking, that was when I kicked it into high gear. There were hundreds of people cheering on the runners. I saw so many people that I knew and they were yelling my name and encouraging me to fun harder, faster. I needed that extra push to get me to the finish line. Crossing that line was a HUGE accomplishment for this chubby girl. I had done it! Granted, my entire body felt like it was on fire...where was the hose when I needed it?
So, I didn't break any records. You know what? I proved to myself that I could do it. I didn't give up. I ended up with a time of 24:25...this was big in my book! Did I just run two 12 minute miles? You've got that right! I even beat some people...yahoo! Okay, so most of the people I beat were walkers...who cares! I was out there on a hot day, running through the beer garden (yes, you could still smell the beer!) proving to myself that I can do anything. I felt high on life after it was over. However, my legs felt like Jello. My head hurt. My knees ached. But, I had done it. And, I rewarded myself with a nap.
If you think you know how this story ends up, you're wrong. I suddenly stopped running. I could make up excuse after excuse as to the cause, but I won't. I guess life just got in the way. I got lazy. I was mad at myself. I've never felt better than I did when I was running. Sure, I kind of wanted to die during some of my training but, overall, I felt amazing. I had no trouble sleeping. I had more energy. All in all, I felt like I could do anything. Then, I lost that feeling. I lost the drive to hit the pavement and continue. For some silly reason, I felt like a failure. I put in a lot of time and sweat, bought a pair of pretty expensive shoes...and now? Well, those shoes were doing nothing but sitting on the floor of my bedroom. Sure, I continued to go to the gym, but I never ran. Sad, but true.
Fast-forward to today. It was a beautiful day in Southern Indiana. I decided to go for a walk. Make that a run/walk. I don't know what happened, but I found the will and the strength to run. I started running about halfway up Mozart. Now, I knew I was nuts! Why would I start on a hill? Well, I did. I would start at a telephone pole and try and run to the next one. Or, I'd choose a mailbox and run to the next one. I ran a few blocks, walked a few blocks. That lasted from halfway up Mozart to my car in front of the gym on Main St. I felt incredible. I was slow. But, I was running! How could this be? After months of nothing, I was doing it again. I had to actually visualize someone chasing me...that was the only way I made it. I kept telling myself that I had to keep running because some scary person was behind me chasing me. A little weird, I know. Hey, it kept me going! That crazy idea got me to my car. And, that crazy idea will keep me going. At the slow rate I go, maybe the only person capable of catching me would be a 90 year-old. I welcome the challenge of "granny" trying to get me :)
Running has taught me a few lessons. First, I CAN do anything I want. I won't ever win any medals, but I've won just knowing that I get out there and prove myself wrong on a daily basis. I am my own worst enemy when it comes to most everything about my life. Never again. I can really do anything I set my mind to...and, I WILL. I've also learned that it takes a lot of strength, courage and a great pair of shoes to accomplish what you want. I am a strong person. I have to have faith in my body to keep me going. I have manly legs. So what? They are strong and will continue to get me here, there and everywhere.
If you've ever thought about running, GO FOR IT! Get out there, try something new and prove to yourself that you can do it. Because, deep down, you know you can. I'm living proof that anyone can run. Believe me, if me and my jiggly fat can get out there, you can, too! If you're waiting for the right time, there isn't one. Start tomorrow. Even if you have to run one block, walk one block. Hey, we all have to start somewhere!
I have always loved the following quote and it seemed quite fitting in this blog:
"THE RACE IS NOT ALWAYS TO THE SWIFT, BUT TO THOSE WHO KEEP ON RUNNING". I'm gonna keep on running. Sometimes, I'll be running on empty. I'm gonna keep on running. Sometimes, I'll be running down a dream. I'm still gonna keep on running. Maybe I'll take the money and run. You know what? I'm gonna keep on running. Running, running, running.
One word of advice? Don't run behind me. I tend to 'break wind" from time to time :)
Just call me Forrest.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Well, poop...
I've heard the expression, "write what you know". If that's the case, here goes nothing...
In fourth grade, I thought I knew it all. Why would any eleven year-old feel any other way? Two BIG things happened that year. The first? We had the opportunity to take live baby chicks home. What a fabulous idea for someone that knew NOTHING about chickens. Sure, I knew they hatched eggs. But, honestly, I was still trying to figure out which came first. So, this was new territory for me. Moral of this story? I think my poor "chicken little" didn't survive very long after the ride home. To this day, I'm not a big, big fan of poultry. Can you blame me? Let's now talk about the second big thing that year. A child's worst nightmare. Maybe mankind's worst nightmare. CONSTIPATION. I choose to capitalize the entire word for many reasons. If you've ever been "stopped up", then you'd know it's a terrible and, quite traumatizing, experience. It started on a Sunday. I will never forget watching "Wheel of Fortune" (I think that's where I honed my spelling skills...thanks, Pat Sajak!) while curled up in the fetal position on the floor. My tummy hurt. At first, I just chalked it up to my love for food. Yes, I had the love for food way back in the day. Surely, I had just eaten too much. I was, after all, a little on the chubby side. But, this belly ache lasted long beyond my food not digesting properly. No, these pains were real. And, I felt them down deep. In the depths of my chubby soul.
When I woke up the next morning, I couldn't stand it. My stomach hurt and I was about to tell mom and dad there was NO WAY I was going to school. My big belly and I were running this show now, and there wasn't anything anyone could do about it. In fact, I missed that entire week of school. But, I'll get to that later. A few days went by and still no results. At this point (a few details have escaped me) it was time for medical intervention. So, we drove to Welborn Baptist Hospital in Evansville to my pediatrician. I can't remember much of that visit because I was concentrating so much on my intense abdominal pain. However, I vividly remember what happened after we got home. That's when the "fun" began. Yes, folks. Something I hope not many of you have to suffer through...THE DREADED ENEMA :)
Okay, so having something shoved in your rectum at such a young age was not necessarily my idea of a good time. If it didn't involve Barbie and Ken or my Nintendo, then I wanted NO part of it. But, since I always did what I was told (even back then!), I kindly bent over so mom could torture me. After what felt like hours, the job was done. So, I plopped my booty on the toilet...and, waited. Nothing. Five minutes later, still nothing. At this point, I had reverted to the grunting. Full-blown grunting, in which beads of sweat started dripping off my forehead. I was more than ready to "drop the kids off at the porcelain bank", so to speak, but apparently they were still napping and never got that memo. How rude!
You name it, I tried it. After the enema failed, a heating pad soon followed. It helped the pain, so I was thankful for it. I vaguely remember drinking what seemed to be a gallon of mineral oil. Please don't ever drink it. I don't care who tells you to or how much he or she is willing to pay you. Next to tea and coffee, it might be THE most vile liquid anyone could drink. By Thursday, I think we may have resorted to giving the "trusty" enema another go. And, you know what? Success! What a relief! That was probably the first time I looked back down to actually see the end result. I was proud and I was gonna see what all the week's efforts had produced. I felt like I had won the lottery. It was a miracle!
It was a good thing that I finally had a bowel movement. Because, there was a birthday party to get to and I couldn't possibly miss that! My friend, Katie, was having a slumber party at her house that weekend and I was bound and determined to make it. After all, I had finally "taken a dump". I was ready to conquer the world, or at least the world according to a bunch of silly little fourth grade girls. And, how was I gonna miss the chance to stuff myself with junk food? I knew that might cause me to become "plugged up" again, but I was willing to take my chances. After all, there were Cheetos involved. For once, I was gonna live on the edge. Why not? Because, if you're not livin' on the edge, then you're takin' up too much room :)
From that day on, I vowed that I would NEVER go one day without "poppin' a squat" and attempting to have a bowel movement. For the most part, I have succeeded with this vow I made so long ago. If you've ever been constipated, then you'll firmly agree with me on this. I used to find it so silly when my elderly patients became obsessed with "moving their bowels", as they called it. Well, now it all makes sense. Would I give myself an enema again? You bet. Would I drink mineral oil again? Maybe. Would I drink prune juice? If it meant never going another week constipated, then I say BRING IT ON.
Even at the tender age of 11, I was "full of shit". My advice? If you have to become obsessed with anything, make it your bowels. You won't regret it. And, your bowels will thank you!
In fourth grade, I thought I knew it all. Why would any eleven year-old feel any other way? Two BIG things happened that year. The first? We had the opportunity to take live baby chicks home. What a fabulous idea for someone that knew NOTHING about chickens. Sure, I knew they hatched eggs. But, honestly, I was still trying to figure out which came first. So, this was new territory for me. Moral of this story? I think my poor "chicken little" didn't survive very long after the ride home. To this day, I'm not a big, big fan of poultry. Can you blame me? Let's now talk about the second big thing that year. A child's worst nightmare. Maybe mankind's worst nightmare. CONSTIPATION. I choose to capitalize the entire word for many reasons. If you've ever been "stopped up", then you'd know it's a terrible and, quite traumatizing, experience. It started on a Sunday. I will never forget watching "Wheel of Fortune" (I think that's where I honed my spelling skills...thanks, Pat Sajak!) while curled up in the fetal position on the floor. My tummy hurt. At first, I just chalked it up to my love for food. Yes, I had the love for food way back in the day. Surely, I had just eaten too much. I was, after all, a little on the chubby side. But, this belly ache lasted long beyond my food not digesting properly. No, these pains were real. And, I felt them down deep. In the depths of my chubby soul.
When I woke up the next morning, I couldn't stand it. My stomach hurt and I was about to tell mom and dad there was NO WAY I was going to school. My big belly and I were running this show now, and there wasn't anything anyone could do about it. In fact, I missed that entire week of school. But, I'll get to that later. A few days went by and still no results. At this point (a few details have escaped me) it was time for medical intervention. So, we drove to Welborn Baptist Hospital in Evansville to my pediatrician. I can't remember much of that visit because I was concentrating so much on my intense abdominal pain. However, I vividly remember what happened after we got home. That's when the "fun" began. Yes, folks. Something I hope not many of you have to suffer through...THE DREADED ENEMA :)
Okay, so having something shoved in your rectum at such a young age was not necessarily my idea of a good time. If it didn't involve Barbie and Ken or my Nintendo, then I wanted NO part of it. But, since I always did what I was told (even back then!), I kindly bent over so mom could torture me. After what felt like hours, the job was done. So, I plopped my booty on the toilet...and, waited. Nothing. Five minutes later, still nothing. At this point, I had reverted to the grunting. Full-blown grunting, in which beads of sweat started dripping off my forehead. I was more than ready to "drop the kids off at the porcelain bank", so to speak, but apparently they were still napping and never got that memo. How rude!
You name it, I tried it. After the enema failed, a heating pad soon followed. It helped the pain, so I was thankful for it. I vaguely remember drinking what seemed to be a gallon of mineral oil. Please don't ever drink it. I don't care who tells you to or how much he or she is willing to pay you. Next to tea and coffee, it might be THE most vile liquid anyone could drink. By Thursday, I think we may have resorted to giving the "trusty" enema another go. And, you know what? Success! What a relief! That was probably the first time I looked back down to actually see the end result. I was proud and I was gonna see what all the week's efforts had produced. I felt like I had won the lottery. It was a miracle!
It was a good thing that I finally had a bowel movement. Because, there was a birthday party to get to and I couldn't possibly miss that! My friend, Katie, was having a slumber party at her house that weekend and I was bound and determined to make it. After all, I had finally "taken a dump". I was ready to conquer the world, or at least the world according to a bunch of silly little fourth grade girls. And, how was I gonna miss the chance to stuff myself with junk food? I knew that might cause me to become "plugged up" again, but I was willing to take my chances. After all, there were Cheetos involved. For once, I was gonna live on the edge. Why not? Because, if you're not livin' on the edge, then you're takin' up too much room :)
From that day on, I vowed that I would NEVER go one day without "poppin' a squat" and attempting to have a bowel movement. For the most part, I have succeeded with this vow I made so long ago. If you've ever been constipated, then you'll firmly agree with me on this. I used to find it so silly when my elderly patients became obsessed with "moving their bowels", as they called it. Well, now it all makes sense. Would I give myself an enema again? You bet. Would I drink mineral oil again? Maybe. Would I drink prune juice? If it meant never going another week constipated, then I say BRING IT ON.
Even at the tender age of 11, I was "full of shit". My advice? If you have to become obsessed with anything, make it your bowels. You won't regret it. And, your bowels will thank you!
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
What You Give Is What You Get :)
So, I'm not a huge fan of reading. Before you start with the jokes, let me say this...YES, I do know how to read. I just don't have a huge passion for it. Which is why, before leaving work last Friday, I probably did the big "eye roll" when I was told I had to read a few books. Because I am a supervisor. A wave of nausea came over me. Seriously? I randomly have six days off in a row and now I have to spend part of it reading? For work, no less. Well, this little break wasn't starting off well.
Fast forward to today. Crap, I had completely forgotten about my reading assignment. How silly would I look if I showed up to work tomorrow and had not even opened it. So, this morning, after giving myself a pep talk, I started reading. Now, let me explain something. This book is actually work-related. It's entitled "Inspired Nurse". Once again, was God watching out for me? I can't lie when I say I've been uninspired in my career for the past several months. Nursing just didn't feel all that "inspiring" to me anymore. I've had days where I really questioned why I even started down this road in the first place. Nursing would be really great, if not for all the other "stuff". There's A LOT you don't learn in nursing school. At any rate, I've been in a nursing slump for a while. And, I guess this was my way out. Anyway, I kept reading. And, reading. And, reading. Needless to say, I read the entire book today. That's a HUGE accomplishment for me. A nurse wrote the book. Rich Bluni, RN, as a matter of fact. I'd give anything to meet this man. The stories in this book left me happy, joyous, inspired, gracious, humbled, just to name a few. I even shed a few tears. I'm really going to have to invest in more tissues. Maybe, I just need to invest some stock in Kleenex.
I could go on and on about this book, but I won't. Most of you "non-nurses" probably wouldn't care all that much. I grumbled when faced with the fact that I had to read this book. Boy, I wish I would've known better! In one chapter, he talks about "looking for reasons to be inspired". Basically, what he says is the that what we manifest into our life becomes our reality where inspiration is concerned. If you look for inspiration, inspiration will find you. Sort of like the "do unto others" motto we've all heard millions of times.
WOW. I think I finally get what it means to be a nurse. Maybe, more importantly, what it means to be a person. A person that is good. A person that inspires. Sure, I can inspire the people that I take care of when I work, but I don't feel like that necessarily flows over to my personal life. I sometimes have heard about a so-called "nursing face". Get to work, leave your problems at the door and just take care of your patients. They are sick. They are not at their best and they certainly DON'T deserve your irritation that you might have been running late because of traffic. Or, maybe you got pulled over on the way to these patients. So what! Suck it up, drop the "baggage" at the front door and remember why you chose this profession in the first place. BECAUSE YOU WANT TO MAKE A DIFFERENCE IN THE LIFE OF SOMEONE BESIDES YOURSELF. After all, it's not even about us nurses. If we didn't have patients, then we wouldn't have a job. And, I don't know about you, but I don't want to live on the street with no money. I like to shop.
Maybe we could all start living with a "nursing face". What happened to genuine kindness and respect? I'm not asking you to "fake it". I'm talking about being more appreciative of life. So, you might not have the greatest job, nicest car, biggest house. At least you have a job, car, and house to call your own. Are you able to pay your bills and eat every day? I think the answer is yes. Are you relatively healthy? Most of us are. Some of us aren't. Be grateful for each day that you spend outside the place that pays me and most other nurses.
I suppose I should read this and take some of my own advice. It's nothing I haven't heard before. Truthfully, I think most of us learned this a LONG time ago. We just get so caught up in the hustle and bustle of life, we forget to slow down and breath. I have A LOT I need to work on to better myself. First of all, I need much more patience. Not to be confused with "patients", but they are the reason I have a job...ha! I am so impatient...with everything and everyone. I want what I want when I want it. It's how I've always lived. So what if people don't like it (or so I used to think). Maybe I need to stop and "just breath". It might take more time than I want, but I'll get there eventually. Until then, I'm still hoping that some smart person invents a "more patience" pill. There's a pill for everything else. Why not that?
I am much too hard on myself. I guess I am my own worst enemy. However, if I can be my own worst enemy, I can probably be my own best friend, too. And, THAT'S how I need to start thinking. None of us are perfect. It's when we stop and look at all the good in our lives that we see that our imperfections aren't all that bad. I know I'm clumsy. And, a smart mouth. And, not a fan of reading. Or, eating anything with mushrooms in it. I tend to let whatever I am thinking come out of my mouth in the wrong way. I also tend to think the worst in EVERY situation. It's much easier to think that way, then you won't be so let down in the end. WRONG way to think. I'm learning to be much more positive. I have the power to be anything I want. Go anywhere I want. So, I'm leaving that little "Negative Nancy" inside me at home. Nancy, go to your room. You're grounded...for the rest of MY life :)
When I first started nursing, I thought I knew it all. I have been proven wrong nearly each and every day since then. It's been one hell of an almost six-year journey. A few months ago, I hit a wall. I didn't want to have anything to do with this profession. My heart wasn't in it. I've always believed that life isn't a coincidence. I also believe that I was meant to read this book. At this time. I'm very grateful that someone's watching over me. Now, I know that I was born to do this. I was born to help people. In good times and in bad. Nurses see people at their VERY worst. What an incredible feeling knowing that I can make a small difference in the life of someone that I have had the privilege of caring for...and, that is why I do this. It's not about the money. It's not about the accolades. It's about the patient. It's something that I think MOST nurses need reminded of on a daily basis.
Sure, nursing is not "puppy dogs and rainbows" all the time. In fact, some days are hard. Really hard. I will never forget the first patient that died in my care. Could I do this for the next 30+ years? Unfortunately, death is always going to be a part of this job. Fortunately, it's not THE only part. For every patient that has died, there is a patient that does, in fact, get better. What a transformation seeing someone so very sick and so very well in a matter of days. And, to know that I might have had a small part in that...well, it's the icing on this great big cake of mine. Yes, I relate pretty much all I can to food. Probably something I love almost as much as nursing!
"YOU GET WHAT YOU GIVE". The name of Zac Brown Band's new album. Also, a chapter in this book. It really is true. Not just in nursing, but in life. I don't know about you, but I'm gonna stop and smell the roses more. I'm gonna be just a little more patient. I'm gonna see the good in people, no matter what. I'm gonna stop thinking it's all about me. I'm gonna stop trying to be perfect...at everything. Okay, so I might have a little bit of trouble with that last part! I can't help it...I am "type-A" all the way. I'm a work in progress...and, I think I'll get there.
If I'm lucky, I've got a lot of livin' yet to do. And, A LOT of people to care for and about. But, I'll be leaving the all-white uniform, cap and hosiery at home!
So, I'll leave you with this thought (if anyone actually reads this!) . What or who inspires you? What or who makes you get up each day and want to be a better person? I think you'd be surprised at the answer(s)! So, go on. Figure it out. Quit just "going through the motions" and start inspiring yourself and others around you.
It wouldn't be a typical "Emily Blog" without at least a little bit of "funny". So, I'll share this with you. When you think you're having a bad day, remember this. I have fallen down multiple times at work. I've spilled things all over my uniform and the uniforms of co-workers (BETADINE is NOT a toy!). I've also been in the process of taking care of someone and had the crotch of my pants rip wide open. No joke. People, like I've said many times before, I couldn't make this stuff up, even if I tried. But, maybe that's what I personally bring to this profession that is known as NURSING...a whole lot of laughs! Last time I checked, just because you're sick doesn't mean you don't know how to laugh until you sides hurts :)
Fast forward to today. Crap, I had completely forgotten about my reading assignment. How silly would I look if I showed up to work tomorrow and had not even opened it. So, this morning, after giving myself a pep talk, I started reading. Now, let me explain something. This book is actually work-related. It's entitled "Inspired Nurse". Once again, was God watching out for me? I can't lie when I say I've been uninspired in my career for the past several months. Nursing just didn't feel all that "inspiring" to me anymore. I've had days where I really questioned why I even started down this road in the first place. Nursing would be really great, if not for all the other "stuff". There's A LOT you don't learn in nursing school. At any rate, I've been in a nursing slump for a while. And, I guess this was my way out. Anyway, I kept reading. And, reading. And, reading. Needless to say, I read the entire book today. That's a HUGE accomplishment for me. A nurse wrote the book. Rich Bluni, RN, as a matter of fact. I'd give anything to meet this man. The stories in this book left me happy, joyous, inspired, gracious, humbled, just to name a few. I even shed a few tears. I'm really going to have to invest in more tissues. Maybe, I just need to invest some stock in Kleenex.
I could go on and on about this book, but I won't. Most of you "non-nurses" probably wouldn't care all that much. I grumbled when faced with the fact that I had to read this book. Boy, I wish I would've known better! In one chapter, he talks about "looking for reasons to be inspired". Basically, what he says is the that what we manifest into our life becomes our reality where inspiration is concerned. If you look for inspiration, inspiration will find you. Sort of like the "do unto others" motto we've all heard millions of times.
WOW. I think I finally get what it means to be a nurse. Maybe, more importantly, what it means to be a person. A person that is good. A person that inspires. Sure, I can inspire the people that I take care of when I work, but I don't feel like that necessarily flows over to my personal life. I sometimes have heard about a so-called "nursing face". Get to work, leave your problems at the door and just take care of your patients. They are sick. They are not at their best and they certainly DON'T deserve your irritation that you might have been running late because of traffic. Or, maybe you got pulled over on the way to these patients. So what! Suck it up, drop the "baggage" at the front door and remember why you chose this profession in the first place. BECAUSE YOU WANT TO MAKE A DIFFERENCE IN THE LIFE OF SOMEONE BESIDES YOURSELF. After all, it's not even about us nurses. If we didn't have patients, then we wouldn't have a job. And, I don't know about you, but I don't want to live on the street with no money. I like to shop.
Maybe we could all start living with a "nursing face". What happened to genuine kindness and respect? I'm not asking you to "fake it". I'm talking about being more appreciative of life. So, you might not have the greatest job, nicest car, biggest house. At least you have a job, car, and house to call your own. Are you able to pay your bills and eat every day? I think the answer is yes. Are you relatively healthy? Most of us are. Some of us aren't. Be grateful for each day that you spend outside the place that pays me and most other nurses.
I suppose I should read this and take some of my own advice. It's nothing I haven't heard before. Truthfully, I think most of us learned this a LONG time ago. We just get so caught up in the hustle and bustle of life, we forget to slow down and breath. I have A LOT I need to work on to better myself. First of all, I need much more patience. Not to be confused with "patients", but they are the reason I have a job...ha! I am so impatient...with everything and everyone. I want what I want when I want it. It's how I've always lived. So what if people don't like it (or so I used to think). Maybe I need to stop and "just breath". It might take more time than I want, but I'll get there eventually. Until then, I'm still hoping that some smart person invents a "more patience" pill. There's a pill for everything else. Why not that?
I am much too hard on myself. I guess I am my own worst enemy. However, if I can be my own worst enemy, I can probably be my own best friend, too. And, THAT'S how I need to start thinking. None of us are perfect. It's when we stop and look at all the good in our lives that we see that our imperfections aren't all that bad. I know I'm clumsy. And, a smart mouth. And, not a fan of reading. Or, eating anything with mushrooms in it. I tend to let whatever I am thinking come out of my mouth in the wrong way. I also tend to think the worst in EVERY situation. It's much easier to think that way, then you won't be so let down in the end. WRONG way to think. I'm learning to be much more positive. I have the power to be anything I want. Go anywhere I want. So, I'm leaving that little "Negative Nancy" inside me at home. Nancy, go to your room. You're grounded...for the rest of MY life :)
When I first started nursing, I thought I knew it all. I have been proven wrong nearly each and every day since then. It's been one hell of an almost six-year journey. A few months ago, I hit a wall. I didn't want to have anything to do with this profession. My heart wasn't in it. I've always believed that life isn't a coincidence. I also believe that I was meant to read this book. At this time. I'm very grateful that someone's watching over me. Now, I know that I was born to do this. I was born to help people. In good times and in bad. Nurses see people at their VERY worst. What an incredible feeling knowing that I can make a small difference in the life of someone that I have had the privilege of caring for...and, that is why I do this. It's not about the money. It's not about the accolades. It's about the patient. It's something that I think MOST nurses need reminded of on a daily basis.
Sure, nursing is not "puppy dogs and rainbows" all the time. In fact, some days are hard. Really hard. I will never forget the first patient that died in my care. Could I do this for the next 30+ years? Unfortunately, death is always going to be a part of this job. Fortunately, it's not THE only part. For every patient that has died, there is a patient that does, in fact, get better. What a transformation seeing someone so very sick and so very well in a matter of days. And, to know that I might have had a small part in that...well, it's the icing on this great big cake of mine. Yes, I relate pretty much all I can to food. Probably something I love almost as much as nursing!
"YOU GET WHAT YOU GIVE". The name of Zac Brown Band's new album. Also, a chapter in this book. It really is true. Not just in nursing, but in life. I don't know about you, but I'm gonna stop and smell the roses more. I'm gonna be just a little more patient. I'm gonna see the good in people, no matter what. I'm gonna stop thinking it's all about me. I'm gonna stop trying to be perfect...at everything. Okay, so I might have a little bit of trouble with that last part! I can't help it...I am "type-A" all the way. I'm a work in progress...and, I think I'll get there.
If I'm lucky, I've got a lot of livin' yet to do. And, A LOT of people to care for and about. But, I'll be leaving the all-white uniform, cap and hosiery at home!
So, I'll leave you with this thought (if anyone actually reads this!) . What or who inspires you? What or who makes you get up each day and want to be a better person? I think you'd be surprised at the answer(s)! So, go on. Figure it out. Quit just "going through the motions" and start inspiring yourself and others around you.
It wouldn't be a typical "Emily Blog" without at least a little bit of "funny". So, I'll share this with you. When you think you're having a bad day, remember this. I have fallen down multiple times at work. I've spilled things all over my uniform and the uniforms of co-workers (BETADINE is NOT a toy!). I've also been in the process of taking care of someone and had the crotch of my pants rip wide open. No joke. People, like I've said many times before, I couldn't make this stuff up, even if I tried. But, maybe that's what I personally bring to this profession that is known as NURSING...a whole lot of laughs! Last time I checked, just because you're sick doesn't mean you don't know how to laugh until you sides hurts :)
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