life as i know it...

an unexpected day...

I should have been at work today.  I expected today would be my first day working at the hospital in Massillon, but as fate would have it, I am resting at the house instead.  After a pleasant morning yesterday, meeting the other interns and getting acquainted with the general internship program for the consortium here, I was met with unexpected and confusing news in the afternoon.  Due to Ohio state government budget issues, I am not allowed to begin my work at the hospital as planned.  After a brief time of internal panic, I was assured that I will nevertheless graduate from an APA-accredited internship program.  However, that was about the only question that was very directly answered.  The other questions...when I will get to start work, where I will actually be working...could not be answered.  And because I do not fully understand what is even happening with the state budget up here, I am now left waiting and wondering what this year will indeed hold for me.

In the meantime, I'm sitting in my patio chair, looking out at the backyard.  The day is gray and chilly here, so strange for an afternoon in July.  My body is not accustomed to such weather and I'm bundled in sweats, oddly missing the heat of the South.  My bare toes feel like ice cubes, which naturally leads me to wonder how I will survive the brutally cold winter up here.  I try to comfort myself by believing that the cold, icy weather expected of winter will not be such a surprise as this cool 60 degrees in the middle of summer.  In fact, I keep trying to find all sorts of thoughts to comfort myself today.

With the holiday weekend approaching and this unexpected gray day on the farm, I have found myself continuously battling the feeling of being terribly and intensely homesick.  I cannot help but think of my family in Georgia, the sweltering heat and humidity only a mild annoyance in the company of such loving companionship.  I think of the art and crafts festival that is probably being set up down by the pier as I write these words.  I imagine the beach, the good food, the fireworks spraying out vibrant designs of exquisite colors above the ocean.  I think of these images and I miss home so much.  I long to be there, to share in the festivities of what was once my favorite holiday. 

Hubby continues to be such a blessing for me, now more than ever.  He holds my hand while the tears fall, understanding that my missing home is just a part of me, and today, and the circumstances.  He reminds me that the year ahead will be a good one, and I do believe him.  I believe this in my heart.  I met some wonderful people yesterday and had a nice, long conversation with a new friend last night.  I know that the problems with beginning work will be resolved.  I've read the weather report and am relieved to see that the weekend is expected to be warm and sunny.  We've even found some local festivals and fireworks for our own celebration of the 4th.  But today, in this moment, that belief does not take away the heartache of missing home.

Sometimes I think it's better to just allow myself to feel whatever emotion is present.  I think that is especially true today.  So instead of fighting the heartache and sadness today, I think I'll just let the tears falls when they want.  I'll dig out my cozy leg warmers and snuggle under blankets on the couch.  I watch Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, and I'll let myself miss Home.

after quite some time...

After quite a while, I have decided the time has come for me to begin writing again (or rather posting my writing again).  In the midst of transition, I sit amidst a new world tonight.  This world is quiet and peaceful.  The air is surprisingly still and yet still cool, a blessed relief compared to the familiar southern heat.  We have been living in Ohio for 8 days now.  While I find the beauty of this place captivating and the serenity comforting, I am still homesick for Georgia.  The reality that this is now my home (at least temporarily) has not set in; I feel as though any day now I will pack a suitcase and return to my true home in Georgia. 

Tomorrow is the beginning of the biggest change yet: the first day of my internship.  I feel nervous, a bit excited, and mostly apprehensive about all the uncertainty that lies before me.  It will be a year of learning and growth I am sure.  I imagine it will be a year of learning and growth in many domains, besides just my profession.  Nevertheless, I feel the burden of anxiety that always accompanies the unknown.  It is all a part of change, and I am doing my best to embrace change in my life these days.

Perhaps it is the new environment or possibly the fact that I am finally unbound from endless school and multiple jobs, but I have already seen changes beginning to take place within myself.  They are small, seemingly irrelevant changes, but they are changes nevertheless, and they are changes that are meaningful to me.  I am not rushing through life nearly as quickly these days, enjoying time and taking each moment as it comes.  I am reveling in the natural beauty all around me and allowing myself to appreciate the feel of the breeze against my skin, the scent of honeysuckle permeating the air, the sound of birds chirping and chimpmunks scampering about the yard.  I am enjoying the pleasure of time spent with my sweet husband and my precious Dakota.  While we are all still adjusting to the recent move, Dakota seems happy here.  Hubby and I take him for long walks in the evenings and he literally bounces through the tall grass and hay, filled with playful energy.  At night, he sleeps in the bed with us, usually curled between us and I find myself reveling in those moments as well, the warmth of his fur resting on my shoulder.  There are other changes as well.  We have started cooking dinner each night and sitting down to eat together at the table.  Perhaps that sounds normal, but until recently, it has been an a rare occurrence for us.  The changes are really nothing more than embracing simple pleasures and yet it is the simple pleasures that make life worthwhile.

As I watch the moon, half hidden behind wispy clouds, I wonder what tomorrow (and the year ahead) will bring.  Whatever it is, I feel happy tonight.  I feel at peace.  And that feeling cannot be overestimated...it is truly a blessing!

riding the waves...

There are days, moments even, when I feel unexplainably drawn to people from my past.  Memories surge forth like unexpected tidal waves, crashing over me and causing a feeling of disorientation.  In these moments, I experience a sense of bewilderment.  Oftentimes, I feel overwhelmed and desperate to discover the meaning lying beneath the monsoon of emotions.  I am flooded by a sea of experiences long since past, taken back in time, months or years or more than a decade, in pensive recollections. 

 

I am prone to analyzing every nuance of life experiences, particularly the ones that occur unexpectedly and without warning.  A single moment can take me full-force on a spiraling journey of reflective introspection.  I question and wonder, exploring every seeming possibility until I have exhausted my mind.  I cling to the mysteries held within those moments, part of me afraid to let go until I have uncovered at least the outline of the hidden puzzle.  The most difficult part is accepting that some mysteries are simply not meant to be deconstructed.

 

For the most part, I try to live my life in the here-and-now.  Intellectually, I recognize that too much focus upon the past or the future is not only unhealthy, but also an unfulfilling way of living in the world.  However, despite my best attempts to embrace the present, there are those moments that creep into my awareness, startling me into reveries and disrupting the natural flow of my existence. 

 

Tonight, I feel like the tide being pulled out to sea, waves of fragmented memories interrupting my thoughts.  Rather than fighting this historical influx of experiences, I am allowing myself to float along the surface of the water.  I am riding the waves of memory, at moments catapulted to the ocean’s depths before resurfacing and catching another breath of fresh, salty air.

 

Floating on my back, I look up and see the brilliant blue of a summer sky.  I can feel the soft grains of sand beneath my back and the warmth of the Caribbean sun bathing my bare skin.  I hear a familiar voice beside me, that voice the embodiment of excitement and youthful, carefree abandon.  I hear the sounds of laughter and bliss.  I smell coconut and suntan oil and the aroma of happiness. 

 

A wave crashes over me and I find myself blindly searching for light in the darkness of the water.  I hear words, spitting betrayal and hostility.  I feel a hand slip from mine and the physical pain of heartbreak and disappointment makes me feel as if I am drowning.  Struggling to find my sense of direction, I fight back, desperate for the solace I know can be found just beyond the surface.  With every ounce of strength, I make my way upward, the feel of air rushing into my body a temporary reprieve.

 

My head is above the surface now, but I still feel as if my breath is caught in my throat.  There are butterflies in my stomach and the world begins to spin a bit as I try to understand the immense power of the moment.  I can see someone on the shoreline and miraculously, without effort, I feel myself being pulled toward the beauty of this companion on the beach.  I am so close that I can feel our breaths intermingling in the air, now cooled by an autumn breeze.  Reaching out, I feel our skin touch for a brief moment, and then the moment is gone.

 

I am on the shore alone now, my clothes too heavy for the fragility I feel in the wake of an inevitable separation.  I strip away the clothes, longing for relief from the burden of exhaustion my body is still holding.  But the discomfort persists and I feel as though the water has clogged every pore of my skin.  I can no longer feel the breeze or the sand.  I only feel confusion and regret at words left unspoken in that silent good-bye.

 

Gradually, I feel myself coming back alive.  The salty drops of ocean and tears have dried, leaving my skin with feelings of purity and newness.  I can see vibrant-colored cloths blowing in the wind and hear the tranquil sound of nature creating a haven around me.  I am no longer floating on the water’s surface, but instead sitting upon the polished deck of a boat.  The sultry air kisses my face and I realize I am heading Home.

dancing with angels...

The night was quiet, bathed in peaceful silence under a blanket of white.  The darkness was lit only by streetlights, those picture-perfect lamp posts of decades past casting yellow halos that skirted down to the river's edge.  In a city of mystery and anonymity, I exhaled, watching the visible puffs of air escape my body, entering a world filled with the unexpected.  In that moment, I forgot how to worry.  Drinking in gulps of the cold midnight wind, I witnessed a transformation.  Amidst magic and dreams, I felt the snowflakes catch in my eyelashes and tilted my head back to taste the sweetness of Nature's miracle.

Dancing in that empty, darkened street, I found a piece of myself that I thought had long since disappeared.  I felt the burning embers of courage rising within me, tiny sparks gathering strength until the full flame of my spirit soared above the lamp posts and the falling snow.  It was as if twenty years had vanished, erasing the lines and cracks etched upon the eyes and hearts of two grown women.  In that moment, we were two little girls, best friends from a time before we knew each other or the future that would lead us to that magical night when a winter wonderland was all our innocent eyes could see.  Clad in pajamas and winter coats, we claimed the night, the city, and the freshly fallen snow.  Laughter punctuated the silence, easing the physical and emotional pains of two hearts, each on their own path of healing. 

That night was not the beginning of a friendship, but it was the embodiment and discovery of another layer in a bond that already existed.  Hearts were set free that night and although the street appeared empty, I am certain there were many angels dancing with us among the beauty of those early morning hours.  Eventually, we left the snow behind in favor of warmth and sleep.  But the memories will never be left behind.  We carried those memories with us as we traveled onward, embracing a shared sense of feminine wildness.  Pushing beyond the limits of fear and expectations, we paved our own path on a pilgrimage of novel explorations.  And while our return home was inevitable, the memories and the gifts I found along our journey will always stay with me.

the pleasures of the unexpected...

It has been a long month, filled with excitement and exhaustion.  My travels have taken me through 12 states and Canada.  Down crowded, noisy freeways and along quiet, rural roads, I have felt the exhilirating thrill of adventure and the comforting solace of Nature's serenity.  With heightened senses, I have embraced the unique nuances of places to which I never imagined my journey might lead.  But my journey has been filled with the unexpected and I know that the future has yet to be determined. 

In the midst of unknown places and brief moments of exploration, I found more than just the means of reaching a destination.  I found courage to surpass my fears.  I found beauty in the unexpected.  I found kinship in the quiet moments and blissful enchantment in a world where magic lifted me from the realms of reality and sent me soaring to heights I never dared to dream. 

I found knowledge and history in the streets of Philadelphia and images of a simple life of quaint pleasures in the rolling hills of rural Pennsylvania.  In Massachusetts, I was beckoned by the silent call of the harbor.  Upstate New York welcomed me with a hospitality that rivaled all I've known and loved in the deep South.  In Florida, I expected to feel at home, surprised by the sense of detachment that accompanied a more familiar destination.  Through the southern beauty of Tennessee and Virginia, I learned to breathe again and to trust the direction of the road, as well as the direction of my body.  Maryland was a mixture of extremes, lulling me briefly before tossing me back upon a path of chaotic commotion.  In Kentucky, I danced in a midnight blizzard and found my heart once again opening to the passions of art and words.  And finally, I fell in love in West Virginia.  Surrounded by snow-capped mountains, I found pleasure walking down icy sidewalks of downtown streets and perusing books amongst the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.  In a restaurant painted in warmth and streaks of eccentricity, I savored the taste of organic food and vegetables fresher than anything that has ever touched my hungry lips.  And at last, at the top of a mountain, I let go of so much that has held me back in life.  I let go, embracing the snowy trail before me, cherishing the courage and promises I found in those moments of freedom and moonlit abandon.

Now, I sit here at home, in a place of familiarity and learned comforts.  But I am still holding those moments and all that I learned across the many miles of the past month.  I'm still falling in love, but this time, I'm learning to love myself, the world, and the pleasures of the unexpected.

nature's elements...

I fell asleep last night to the sound of a late autumn wind rushing through the treetops.  Even in its fierceness, the wind calmed me, eventually lulling me into a state of peaceful slumber.  Perhaps it was the kindred spirit I feel with nature that calmed me.  Mimicking the fierceness of my own soul, I felt understood and comforted by the companionship of Nature’s lullaby.  It is in moments such as this when I am reminded of how deeply connected I am to the earth and the natural elements of the world. 

 

Air…rushing through the treetops, in and out with my own breath.  In frenzied winds, I inhale and my own shallow breathing is brought to awareness.  In stillness, I stop for a moment and rest, my breathing slowed by Nature’s solace.  On mornings when the air is brisk and cold, I feel the sensations against me skin.  My soul awakens and I feel invigorated, alive, full of passion.  Spirited energy runs through my veins as the air kisses my eyelids, and I open my eyes to a world of vibrant dimensions.

 

Water…forceful waves ripping at the shoreline or the gentle flow of the river I pass above.  Undulating currents capture individual moments, swirling them into forms defined by emotion and depth.  Awestruck, I watch the river changing with the season’s passing and alterations in the atmosphere.  I feel the same flow within me, of constant change and unknown depths.  I stand at the edge of the world and feel the intensity of cyclical tidal patterns that know no beginning or end.

 

Earth…always present in various forms, sometimes crumbling between my fingers and other times strong and steady, holding the weight of me, and the world.  The desert, open in its vast expanse, barren and yet so full of possibility.  Mountains rising up, silhouettes framed on the horizon, obstacles to surpass, or maybe just climb to the top.  Green and fertile, birthing and rebirthing life and ideas, dreams held in the balance when the ground has frozen over.  But the freeze will inevitably end and life will be renewed with passion and vitality.

 

Fire…the very essence of heat, passion, burning beyond the orange flames tinged in blue halos.  Seeking warmth yet fearing heat’s power, I become mesmerized by the sight of the dancing flames.  Their dance, wild and uninhibited, full of glory and desire, blind and deaf to the warnings and expectations of the world.  I struggle against the notions of “good” versus “bad” and leap forward to dance with the simultaneous wildness and purity of the flames.

 

There are moments throughout life’s journey when I feel I have lost my way, when confusion or doubt or worry invade the corners of my existence and I become stuck, paralyzed in an analysis of my next step.  If only I could remember, each day, the parallels that exist between Nature’s elements and my own footsteps.  To relinquish that need for control and order and knowledge and simply allow myself to embrace each element, in each moment… of life, of Nature, of myself.

waiting...on uncertainty

The future always holds uncertainty.  Ironically, the only certainty of the future is the very presence of its inherent uncertainty.  And yet sometimes, as it has been in the recent months of my life, the uncertainties feel overwhelming.  I feel lost, as if I am wandering along a path on which the destination is completely unknown.  In trying to embrace the beauty of the journey itself, I find myself stumbling across the pebbled earth, greeted by towering boulders that seem impossible to surpass.  I am grateful for the moments in which I can still see the beauty of the world, but the beauty is captured in flashes of color and then the world once again turns to black and white. 

 

Nevertheless, it is those very moments of beauty that keep me stumbling forward.  It is the moments when I glimpse the morning mist rising, hovering over the river, the sun creating beams of light through golden leaves…moments like this when I am able to breathe again and feel the hope buried within all the uncertainties.  It is the moment, driving along a crowded street, leaves of red and amber blowing wildly in a windy dance of excitement…it is this moment when I feel the intensity of life blowing through my own veins as well.  These are the moments I have been living for, desperately seeking.  These are the moments when I feel courage burning in the very core of my soul and my spirit takes a momentary leap of faith. 

 

It is all the other moments that leave me breathless, confused, frightened by the presence of so many unknowns.  So many questions that have no “right” answers.  I was not prepared for so many unanswerable questions.  I did not anticipate these particular fears and uncertainties.  But here I am, and I suppose this is exactly where I’m meant to be right now.

 

Now is a time of waiting, a time when patience and faith are necessary.  While I cling tight to my faith, patience has never been a personal virtue.  Perhaps I will develop more patience by the time I reach a place of any answers.  In the meantime, I wait.  I wait to hear from the 20 internship sites to which I applied…wait to find out if I will be invited for an interview, wait to see where I might be moving in six months time.  I wait to hear from the doctor…wait to get results from all the tests and procedures, wait to find out if surgery is inevitable.  I wait to hear from potential adoptive parents for my precious pups…wait to find out if they will have a new home soon, wait while the grief of losing them envelops me.  And without any answers, I keep on waiting…

 

I hate the feeling of waiting, the sense of not knowing what is going to happen.  I hate that lost sense of control, as if I have little (or no) choice in the happenings of my life.  But I also hate the choices, at least right now.  As difficult as it can be to relinquish control, there are times when it feels even more difficult to bear the responsibility of making decisions.  And the essence of my fear lies in taking these leaps of faith, trusting myself, and making the choices that will have to be made in the months ahead.

...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…”