life as i know it...

...beyond daylight

I left the house Friday when the afternoon daylight was still bright, the heat fierce.  Sixteen hours later, I arrived home, the early morning light painting a golden aura around clouds of pink and white.  The air was cool, causing a shiver to run down my spine as I pulled my weary body through the front door and up the stairs.  It was a long night, an exhausting night; but it was a night of purpose and it was that purpose that drove me forward through heavy-lidded eyes and the intermittent pain shooting down my spine.  It was that purpose that pulled empathy from my tired spirit in the moments when it was needed the most.  It was that purpose that kept a smile on my face, even as I climbed into bed at 8:30 Saturday morning to finally sleep.

 

As heavy as the exhaustion becomes at times, I love the work I do.  I even love the late nights and driving through a stillness that is never known in daylight.  Of course, I miss the hours of daylight sometimes.  I miss waking up and enjoying a leisure afternoon outside.  But there are secrets about working the night shifts.  There are moments (“Life Moments” if you will) that simply are not available at other times.  There are images and feelings and thoughts known only to the night, and those are the secrets I treasure greater than I could ever explain.

 

The secrets of the night are precious moments of solitude that breathe the life back into me.  Through the coolness and darkness surrounding me, I am able to breathe again, to actually feel the fresh air entering my body, revitalizing me, reminding me of life’s greatest moments along the journey.  It is in the quiet of these moments when a faint melody whispers through the speakers, and I become filled with inspiration.  The lyrics of a song bring a rush of nostalgia or a novel serenity.  In my mind, I write volumes of poetry, the words flowing effortlessly like the cool waters of the Etowah River over which I pass.  Beauty surrounds me, filling my soul with the sweet company of Nature.  Shadows, quiet birdsongs, and dreamy fog float around me, carrying me through the night in a different sphere.

 

Even when I arrive at my destination, the nighttime secrets are merely paused as I re-focus and center myself, gearing myself up for whatever crisis awaits.  I walk into the hospitals with a clear head, a sense of purpose and focus, and an openness to whatever situation might be waiting for me beyond the automatic glass doors.  I’ve come to develop a pattern on these nights lately, the result of realizing that this type of work is a huge part of what I want to continue doing in my future career.  While I often felt rushed and hurried and frenzied in the past, I now embrace the situation with a sense of direction and dedication that helps me maintain a here-and-now focus with each patient.  The hours I spend in these hospitals are not hours in which I am doing therapy.  I am called in to do psych assessments, to determine what is wrong with the patient and what the best course of treatment is in order to address the immediate crisis.  There was a time, a few years ago, when I thought that meant that I had to get in, get answers, and get out.  Now I realize the importance of sitting with the patient, truly listening beyond just the answers, hearing the stories, and offering my presence and compassion.  My time with these patients is about more than just asking questions and finding treatment for them; it is about being with them in the midst of their struggle, their darkness, their misery.  It is about helping them to find a way back to the path off which they have wandered, in whatever various means that may entail.  And once I feel that I have done all I can do, I walk back out of the hospital doors and re-enter the world of my nighttime secrets.

 

Back in the car, I am filled again with the music of the night.  Not just the melody and lyrics from the stereo, but the melody and lyrics of my own soul.  As I drive through the darkness, even in a state of exhaustion, I am able to feel the beauty of life.  From the ebony night sky, I am able to watch the rising sun, the see the world in its most pristine and pure form.  With the window cracked, I am able to feel the fresh air of a new day, a new morning, and the abundance of promises that are held in the gauzy wisps of clouds.  I am able to breathe out the weariness of the world and actually taste the sweetness of the moments.

 

So I might be tired these days.  My body may protest from time to time, begging for more sleep or more food or more balance.  And I try to listen and honor whatever it is that my body is needing in that moment.  But beyond the fatigue or pain, there is a world of quiet darkness that soothes my soul.  There is a world of dreams and pleasant mysteries and beautiful secrets that await each night…beyond daylight.

thoughts on...chasing daylight

I have been reading an incredibly inspiring book.  “Chasing Daylight” tells the story of one man’s journey in the final weeks after he is diagnosed with inoperable brain cancer.  It is a story of transitions, from embracing life to embracing death.  It is a story of “perfect moments” and the ability to create such moments as well as to open oneself to the possibility of those moments. 

 

“…What was a Perfect Moment?  Usually it was a surprise, though sometimes I could see it unfolding.  Sometimes I could help to engineer it, by creating the circumstances that would allow it to happen, but the best details about it were still a mystery until they happened.  A Perfect Moment was a little gift of a moment or an hour or an afternoon.  Its actual length was never the issue.  The key thing was that you had to be open to a Perfect Moment…

 

In a Perfect Moment, time came close to standing still.  A Perfect Moment could be an intense five-minute phone conversation.  It could be a leisurely, four-hour meal with good wine and great conversation.  It could conceivably go on and on and on because it wasn’t the bounded moments you created; it was the proper atmosphere in which it could blossom…”

 

Essentially, any moment could be a Perfect Moment.  It seems the perfection of such moments is more an act of self-determination and open-mindedness (as well as open-heartedness) than of any particular circumstance.  And so I have been left to ponder…if this dying man was able to find so many of these Perfect Moments, perhaps it is not such a difficult mission.  It is about one’s mindset rather than one’s surroundings.  It is about attitude and perspective and strength of will. 

 

What Eugene O’Kelly termed “Perfect Moments” are essentially the same as my own definition of “Life Moments.”  At the core of the experience is simply that…the experience, and the ability to embrace that experience for all it offers.  In the midst of the storm, even one as tragic as impending death, the opportunity exists for these “Perfect Moments.”  If this opportunity can be embraced in such grim circumstances, then surely I have the capacity within myself to find, and create, my own “Life Moments” in the midst of my own not-so-tragic storm.

 

My awareness of this truth is strengthened as I think back on the “Life Moments” I have experienced.  Most have not been monumental occasions, although certainly a few of those exist as well.  Most of my “Life Moments” have been experiences of simple pleasure…a lingering, full-body hug, the sweetness of a home-cooked meal, a bottle of red wine and a blossoming friendship, a late-night conversation, a book passage read aloud, bare feet squishing through wet sand, standing atop a mountain peak and seeing the world in all her glory.  It is these simple experiences, feelings intense and passionate, that have created the “Life Moments” I have known thus far. 

 

Now, it is time to find more of these “Life Moments”… create more of these moments and live more of these moments.

 

*With gratitude to the inspiration of Eugene O’Kelly, these quotes were taken from the book of his death, and his life, “Chasing Daylight.”*

"Don't Stop Believin..."

Don’t stop believing!  That was the message I received last night.  That was the message I needed to hear. 

 

Yesterday was a difficult day, as so many of them have been recently.  I’ve hesitated to write about my reality lately, not wanting others to know the emotional turmoil that has been wrecking havoc upon my mind, body, and soul.  Also, perhaps I have believed that if I kept this particular storm to myself, it might be possible to convince myself that the storm really is not so bad.  Unfortunately, seeking shelter from the storm does not make the storm disappear…it only provides a temporary shelter in which to ponder and brood alone.  And so out of the shelter I come…wearing a face of authentic pain and hanging my heavy heart upon my sleeve for all of you to witness.

 

The past couple of weeks have been a series of obstacles in testing my own strength.  Two weeks after our wedding, we received the news that David was being laid off from his company.  While I realize the news could be much worse, I also cannot deny that this particular obstacle has certainly dampened our newlywed bliss.  To compensate for the financial burdens we are now facing, I have tripled my work shifts and am now facing a full month of 100+ work hours each week.  Add to that the adjustment of having little personal time for myself these days, attempting to offer support to a stubborn man who pretends he needs no support, and a sufficient lack of sleep…and what you get is an escalating bout of depression and extreme anxiety.  My nerves are like fragile threads, stretched to the breaking point, threatening to sever themselves at any given moment.  The tears come freely and often, typically without any precipitating event to warrant their arrival.  And then the guilt falls heavy upon me, the feeling that I should be stronger and my face should wear a mask of courage and optimism.  It seems the more I try to surface from the darkness, the deeper I sink.  And yet each day, I must continue to wake up, get out of bed, go to work, and remember to thank God for all the blessings in my life…especially the love and support of my husband.

 

So, there it is…a tiny glimpse into the darkness that has begun to pervade my existence in the past couple of weeks.  There was nothing particular about yesterday that caused it to be a difficult day.  Nevertheless, by late afternoon, the tears were falling with abandon, my body was contorted in pain, and my hope was dangerously balanced in the moment.  My sister had offered us tickets to join her for a Journey concert and after a great deal of mustered motivation, we headed down to the city.  Standing there in the packed amphitheatre, the sweltering heat washing our bodies in layers of sweat, the night sky a pleasant shade of darkened blue, the words exploded into the air…Don’t Stop Believin.  With David’s arm around my waist, we belted out the words, our voices becoming raw with the energy and emotion.  “Don’t Stop Believin…Hold on to that Feeling”…those were the words we desperately needed to hear, the words we needed to believe.  We heard them.  We believed them.  And now, we’re still believing.

 

We returned home before midnight and just as I was climbing into bed, my pager began its shrill beeping, beckoning me to the phone and then out into the early morning darkness to a hospital over an hours drive away.  As the world around me slept, I drove on, slowly, carefully, praying much of the way.  I prayed for energy and strength, for myself and the patients I was soon to see.  I prayed the same for David and my family and my friends.  And just when my nerves reached yet another breaking

point, a new song burst through the speakers…Don’t Stop Believin. 

 

“…Strangers waiting, up and down the boulevard,
Their shadows searchin in the night.
Streetlight, people, living just to find emotion,
Hiding somewhere in the night…”

As I listened to those words, I realized that I am not so different from my patients.  We are all essentially strangers…waiting, searching, hiding in the night.  Perhaps the only difference is that some of us choose to keep believing while others cannot find the strength or hope to do so.  I realized how often I sit with patients, talking and listening, desperately trying to guide them to some place of belief.  And then I realized that is the very same thing I must start doing for myself

 

And so tonight…I believe and I am determined to keep believing.  Sometimes belief is all we have.  Sometimes, belief is all we need.  “Don’t stop believin…it goes on and on and on and on…”