So, yeah, meet me. I’m the old woman who didn’t live in a shoe (ok, a small condo!), but decided after 15 years out of school, to go back for my Bachelor’s degree in Nursing…

OK, back up. First of all, I never wanted to be a nurse.

I was doing CNA work as a teenager. Never wanted to be a nurse. Joined the military, since my dear old dad had and it seemed like well, something to teach me discipline, help me see the world, etc. I saw Missouri for a few years. Wow. Did get my first college degree while in the Air Force; in criminal justice. Yeah, I wanted to be a lawyer, or a private investigator. I wanted to be Nancy Drew. Or Ally Mcbeal. I never wanted to be a nurse.

I got out of the military and came home. Came back to being a CNA, a job that I enjoyed and was good at. Didn’t want to be a nurse. Took some random, basic further classes, because at that point I knew I didn’t want to be in criminal justice. Took history, and Nevada constitution (requirement), and English literature, etc. And somehow, somewhere in this time of random schooling, and never wanting to be a nurse, while being a CNA, I wanted to become a nurse. I would love to know when the light bulb went off, but I have no clue.

So I went through pre-requisites and a nursing program that makes you want to want to kill yourself (or others), and proudly became a nurse. Though the first year or so were rough seas, I found myself and my purpose, my passion and my reward.

Then come about 14 or 15 years later, looking through nursing journals and such, the reality is that there are many places that are only hiring Bachelor’s degree nurses. So I thought, well, for job portability, maybe I should go back to school. While I have never been bad in school, the long non-school interim made it frustrating, and my innate laziness made it a bit of a challenge! 🙂

During the midst of the Bachelor’s program, I lost my long-held full time job. Continuing on while working per-diem, and looking for a new full time job for the first time in 14 years made the challenge even bigger. Other changes in life, personal growth, changes in relationships, strengthening of family bonds, and rediscovery of my passion for nursing, and placing myself in a new, challenging environment, made the self-discovery and growth exponential.

Towards the end of the Bachelor’s program, I came to realize that holding that degree really wasn’t going to do squat for me in terms of my future. I was pushing 20 years in nursing at this point, and knew that my body may or may not let me be a bedside nurse for another 20+ years. If I wanted a viable fall-back plan, I would need a Master’s degree.

So after a shorter break of about 8 months, I went back into schooling, working towards a Master’s degree in Nursing Education. Inadvertently, I had picked a program that gave no breaks between classes; one class would end on a Wednesday, the next would start on Thursday. A 2-week break for Christmas; that’s it. Papers, team projects, reading expensive text books, etc etc etc.

Mid-way through my education practicum, about 4 months ago, I hit the wall of being “DONE” mentally with it all. Brain-fried. Sure, it’s a medical diagnosis! (well, it should be). I was quite sick of it all, and ready to never read another thing. Or, alternatively, never read another thing that has to do with nursing, education, or any form of combining the two.

The last 7 weeks I’ve been in my final course. Unrelenting assignments, research, discussion questions, papers. I have been beyond the medical diagnosis of brain-fried. I’ve been life-fried. I’ve been sick, I’ve been tired, I’ve been sick & tired! I’ve been re-orienting back at my per-diem job that I’ve started back up one day a week; I’ve been working full time; I’ve been trying to house train a spazzy little puppy and dealing with the insolence of kitties who disapprove of pup! I’ve been trying to keep up with family, with friends, trying to find some degree of life in all of this work/school/work/school/work/school that has been my life. I not only hated school at this point; I was like a walking wall of hatred! I hated anything that crossed my path, including myself in the mirror. This was not going well with my “peace, love and happiness” life vibe I’ve been trying to hang on to at this point in my life.

A few days ago, I turned in a 36-page final paper. Earlier today, I turned in my final PowerPoint presentation. One week left of the discussion questions and whatnot; but assignments and insanity are done. No more hoops to jump through. And I’m beyond the point of caring how I actually do on these assignments (well, other than passing the damn class; not passing would suck!) It’s wickedly amusing, how this torture was self-inflicted, and yet, I’m so thrilled to be reaching the end that I thought would never come.

Welcome to the light at the end of the tunnel, friends! Welcome to the end of my moody bitchiness! And welcome to a life of smiles, relief, and great happiness!

So, in the changing of the year reflection upon the past 365 days or so, I’m thinking of how I can reconcile my thoughts about the wonder and difficulty, the awesomeness and challenges, the insanity and groundedness of 2016. A year that bizarre events happened throughout the world; that political polls were shown to be completely untrustworthy (Brexit and Trump, anyone); that insane attacks of terrorism and hatred occurred; that sad natural events cost lives; multiple truly iconic figures in the world of the arts and entertainment passed away; the Cubbies win the world series for the first time in 108 years; the ozone layer showed signs of healing itself in Antarctica; the tiger population started growing again for the first time in 100 years; Panda bears were removed from the endangered species list. As wonderful as my personal year was (healthy family, success at work and school, adding a psycho doggy to my menagerie of furbuddies in my home, watching the twinnies continue to grow up so beautifully), the year globally had very definite ups and downs. So in my attempts to reconcile my feelings about the turbulent roller coaster of 2016, I’m looking at 16 things I learned in the course of the year.

1. The enjoyment I receive doing things is inversely proportional to the amount of spare time I truly have to engage in said things! Stolen moments truly are golden; I resolve this year to steal even more!
2. Life is short; eat pie! (Seriously: I think I’ve been on a diet or needing to be on one my entire adult life….HOWEVER, life is indeed short, and indulging on occasion of the things we are most craving and wanting is simply glorious! Thank you Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners!)
3.  Recognize who your heroes are, and cherish them. With the loss of multiple entertainment icons this year, it leads to wondering what is our society’s thoughts on hero worship. While I keenly felt a serious sense of loss with David Bowie’s death, my heroes still remain the ordinary people in my life who behave in extraordinary and admirable ways.
4. Leave last year’s mistakes in last year. That allows for the wonderment of making all new mistakes this year! 🙂
5. The amazing and creative art of the human being is an ongoing process. It is by nature and as nature intended that we grow, change and evolve as we age. Which is something beautiful about aging; we get closer to the ultimate person we are meant to be!
6. Whoever said that familiarity breeds contempt may have been right, in some respects; however, if we change perspective, familiarity breeds beloved!
7. The friends of the past who do not continue to travel the path of my life journey were still valuable energy and lessons to who I am today. The friends of today who may not be with me tomorrow are also brilliantly valuable to me.
8. Knowing some of several languages is not necessarily a bonus; twice in the last year I have had a Spanish-only patient and a Russian-only patient, along with my other patients…..I don’t know who of the three of us were more confused as I would go into one room speaking the other one’s language! 🙂 (However, I’m a firm believer that knowing at least ONE other language, if not being a polyglot, is a brilliant stretch of the mind!)
9. From everyone who’s path I cross, I learn, I grow, and I become more than I was seconds before meeting them!
10. The best things in life truly are free! Family, friends, walks outside, being in nature, sunsets, sunrises, birdsongs, the Smithridge ducks, happy pets, the warmth of sun, the smell of rain, walking through sand or fallen leaves, communication……all joys with no price tag!
11. Maintenance of the best things in life is NOT free! Having a strong work ethic and being financially responsible is important, since I’m the one footing the bill for the remainder of my life! I want to be able to be responsible enough that I can continue to live happily and comfortably!
12. No job is beneath dignity. All things that I do, no matter what the appearance of “importance”, are worth doing right and as honorably as I can!
13. No person is beneath dignity. While there are people I may disagree with, even vehemently, they deserve my courtesy and acceptance just as much as people that I have everything in common with. Part of having respect for myself is respecting others.
14. The more I learn, the more I want to learn. While I will be overjoyed to be done with school, I think that the day I stop learning is the day I die; there is so much in the world that is fascinating and unknown by me thus far.
15. It is with hardship that we learn. We do not grow when we are comfortable. We do not change when what we are doing is working for us. There is no courage without fear. There is no change without discomfort. The place where the sun is always shining without ever any rain is called the desert; we all need the bad with the good to be complete, to be whole, and to be human.
16. The accepting of all others is key to accepting yourself; the acceptance of yourself is the key to accepting all others. Again, all folks deserve courtesy and dignity; and hearing and attempting to understand differing opinions may not change my mind, but it does expand it. While I love that I have been shrinking my waistline, I will always cherish expanding my mind even more!

….before they beat us!

Irrational fears. Everyone has ’em. If you say you don’t have any, you’re either lying or you just haven’t found them yet! Phobias are irrational fears. Fear of spiders or snakes. Fear of heights (yep, I claim this one!). Fear of public speaking….oooh yeah! According to Jerry Seinfeld, public speaking is the number 1 fear of most adults, followed by “death” at number two; so indeed, if you are at a funeral, you would be better off being IN the casket than giving the eulogy!

I admit to irrational fears and phobias. I’m wickedly afraid of heights (to the point where it’s amazing I can even ski!) Auto-flush toilets kind of freak me out (ok, so that one isn’t a fear, but an annoyance). Being called to the office of my boss, or a manager, teacher or supervisor, even when I KNOW I haven’t done anything wrong! I could go on, but you know enough now to recognize a special kind of freak 😉

So, for years, I’ve had a phobia about a song. Yep, you heard me, a song. I referred to it as the “dead pet song”. Anytime I heard it on the radio, (or so it seemed) a pet died. I heard it when my mother and sister were taking our old cat Misty to the vet to put her to sleep; at that time, it seemed like a sign, as it’s a happy sounding song, and I could picture our sweet kitty running and frolicking through a meadow of flowers, chasing birds, etc. I heard it on the radio again when I was taking my pet bunny, Beebe, to the vet (this was quite a few years later, so it’s not like the song was popular at the time); I thought it was a sweet little “hello” from Misty, saying that everything was going to be all right. Except it wasn’t, and Beebe never made it home from the vet. My old cat Syrie and I missed him terribly, and we ended up getting sister kitties Daulton and Griffey to keep Syrie company, who would then be with me for 16 and 15 years, respectively. (And aside, yes, I used to have a tendency to name pets after athletes I enjoyed watching or respected, with Syrie being an old orange cat named “Syracuse” for my grandfather’s alma mater. The current crop of Lucy, Ethel, Junebug and Weezie can attest to the fact that I no longer name pets after sports heroes!)

So, from that point on, I avoided the “dead pet song”. If I heard the opening notes come on the radio, the channel was changed quickly. If I heard it playing in a store, I would actively leave the store and go into the parking lot for 5 minutes. Kinda crazy, huh? And logically, I knew that hearing a dang song wasn’t going to kill a kitty, but I just didn’t want to chance it! (My sports teams don’t do as well if I am actively watching a game usually either, so superstition holds! It can’t be because they suck!)

Two days ago, I was in a store, in a changing room, trying on, and the damn dead pet song came on! WHAT TO DO??? I’M HALF NAKED!!! (yeah, no one wants to see that!) I finally sucked it up and dealt with it, and stayed in the store, trying on clothes, and hoping against hope that I wouldn’t go home to a fractured feline or withered weasel. And yeah, ya know what? No dead pets! Curse broken!

Yes, it’s a whole ridiculous thing. But so many of the boundaries and fears that we put up in our lives are ridiculous as well, when you get down to it. I fear heights; but I ski, and I’ve zip-lined, and I hike up high on narrow paths. I kind of fear horses (they are dang big and tall, and have minds of their own!), but I’ve learned how to ride. I’ve been intimidated by multiple challenges in my life, both professional and personal; but each of those challenges can be successfully faced and conquered. Telling myself that a stupid song would cause the end result of a dead pet for 20 years was ludicrous; telling myself that I “can’t” do something is equally ludicrous.

I am proud to have a quite wise friend who once made a comment of “we are limited only by the boundaries of our imagination”; we are indeed.

Limitless. Imagine THAT!

(no pets were harmed in the writing of this post! But ya know, I may still not play the video clip! 🙂 )

Eddie Izzard, who I think is a comedian on a different level than so many, stated in a standup routine once that people can’t comprehend mass murder, and he’s right. In his words “you kill 20 people, you go to a hospital and people look at you through a small window for the rest of your life, and kill more than that, we just can’t deal with it”. While in the context of comedy, in a seriously unfunny situation, he is indeed right that we as humans can’t seem to fathom mass murders.

Whether what happened last night in Orlando is a “hate crime” spurred by anger about gay rights, or an act of “terrorism” due to admiration of ISIS, does it really matter?  50 people are dead, with possibly more to pass away also as others are in critical condition, and over 50 people wounded. I personally think that A) yes, there is some kind of sociopathic hatred involved in this and B) you kill and injure that many people, it IS indeed terrorism.

The world is insane. Let’s face it, it’s true. Our society idolizes people who are famous for their last name. Our children’s heroes are people who can shoot a basket, or run a football, or sell a million records (heavily autotuned, usually). There are first world countries, third world countries, (I venture to say 9th world countries, but those are not acknowledged as such); entitled little twatwaffles in the society I live in (U.S.) who thinks that the world and their country “owe” them something that they haven’t worked for; crazy people killing people; drug and alcohol abuse running rampant; violence, homelessness, hunger, fear, war, intolerance, crimes in the name of “God” (whatever “God” is ascribed to by said person), death, taxes, Trump running for president, disrespect and lack of civility and courtesy. Sometimes I shudder about what children of today are having to be emotionally assaulted by.

A friend of mine who has always been wise beyond his years has always had a mantra that he follows in terms of dealing with people: “respect, accept, tolerate, or ignore”. People who you have a lot in common with, including like thinking on important issues, you tend to respect. These people will also usually become those who are closest to you in terms of friendship, and will be people you wish to emulate. Those who have good points, are good people, and are intelligent and kind, but whom you maybe don’t agree with on many important things, you accept. You can learn from these people, and polite and civil discourse is possible. There may even be some mutual respect with these accepted people. Those who somewhat annoy you, or you have greatly differing views on most or all important issues, but are still decent human beings and are still courteous/civil, you tolerate. Yes, they are maybe annoying, but they are those people with “a good heart” that you simply aren’t simpatico with. And those who are merely obnoxious or the antithesis of what you are, and you find yourself irritated by the mere mention of their name, you ignore. Because why is someone that annoying worth any of your time or energy expenditure? This friend, as I said, has always been quite wise in his views of the world and people around him (and I am sure his way of thinking is much better for his blood pressure than most other folks!) And his mantra helps explain his general demeanor of gentle fairness and kindness.

While agreeing with his views and mindset, I tend to lump “accept” and “tolerate” into the same category. Tolerance to me means accepting and valuing the differences of others in our personal world. Differences are important, crucial to the growth of the individual; because we do not grow and learn unless we are challenged. Unfortunately, tolerance is not just a thing, it is a practice, a philosophy; one that unfortunately many people are lacking.

In terms of tolerance, I define myself. I do not care what color your skin is, or what country your ancestors were from; if I am going to consider myself superior to you, it’s going to have a more substantial basis than skin color or ethnic/racial background. I do not care who you love or sleep with. It has no significance to me if it’s not me. It doesn’t matter who you love, it matters THAT you love, because LOVE is revolutionary. I do not care who you are voting for. Yes, that may be a stickler, because it may mean that we have very significant ideologies; but if you are a decent human being, I still value you and can learn and experience from you (and perhaps you can from me as well). I don’t care what work or job you do; I have respect for anyone who takes their job and does it well and with dignity. We are all important in the scheme of things. I don’t care if you have piercings, tattoos, purple hair; I have or have had all of those myself. It doesn’t have anything to do with the quality of my character or how competent I am in my job and my life. (And if you ask me about my tattoos and their meaning to me, you may learn even more about me). My only, long-held prejudice is against those who are ignorant assholes by choice. Otherwise, I give everyone a fair chance, until they prove themselves to me in a negative fashion; and if they do that, I certainly don’t take that negativity and generalize it over an entire population segment.

So horrified and saddened by what happened in Orlando, and that yet again, a specific group of society is seemingly being targeted. I wish so much that as we teach our children reading and math and geography, we could be teaching them tolerance and kindness. I have never used my trigonometry, and many countries of the world have re-divided and re-named themselves since my days in elementary school geography; but kindness is an art and skill that will never be outdated, and will always be useful and needed.

Please practice your own tolerance and kindness friends. Remember, practice makes perfect!

I lost a friend today. Actually, I lost her over a week ago; but due to the unfortunate situation of transatlantic mail, and never having had her phone number, I didn’t know it. I just received a card saying she couldn’t go on anymore, and thanking me for my friendship. After nearly a week of trying to locate someone else who had more ability to seek out contact of hers, or trying to get into touch with her or her family, and continuing to email repeatedly giving her my phone number, telling her I’m here for her….well, I find out she’s been gone all this time. Rather a double punch in the gut. From Mike Tyson.

Rosie was one of those little things in life who was also a big thing for me. We’ve been friends for some years, having shared interests and sensibilities, and maintaining that old-fashioned concept of “snail mail” (as well as e-mail and messaging; we aren’t that old!) Despite her ongoing struggles with painful thoughts, and the dark demons of depression, she was constantly showing an interest in the doings and well-being of her other friends. With all of her dignified fighting of depression and failed treatment thereof, she remained a beautiful soul, with an artistic vision, a very acute mind, and a wickedly sharp sense of humor.

Just a few weeks before her death, she sent me a beautiful card, filled with stunning photos of flowers in her garden, and a large packet of different flavored teas, for my birthday. I am drinking a wonderful decaf apricot tea from her right now, as I write this.

We shared so much, and I think our physical distance (she lived in beautiful England, I in the western U.S.) help our honesty, bluntness and sharing of vulnerable and sensitive things with each other. When I was annoyingly (for lack of a more appropriate word) released from my long-term, full-time job a few years ago, she sent me a beautiful flower arrangement, along with some wonderful candy (much enjoyed by myself, my brother-in-law, and the twins), just as a show of support. No matter what foibles in my life, what mundane things I was doing, what annoyances I was facing I told her about, her response was also enthusiastic, telling me how fabulous, wonderful and “brilliant” I was (“Brilliant” being one of her favorite words, and used in a very British way!) until I really started feeling better and stronger about myself again.

We shared pictures of our lives. Our homes, our countryside, her garden, my family. Anywhere I went on a mini-vacation, whether it was somewhere nearby like San Francisco, or our family vacation a few years ago in Hawaii, she received photos and post-cards. We emailed frequently, sent letters and cards frequently, sent gifts back and forth. I have a beautiful scarf I am using as a table cover, with pictures of the twins on it, that was a gift from her; a beautiful purse that I will be using for the next while to keep my friend close to me; numerous beautiful, stunning photos she took of flowers in her home garden. She sent candy and small gifts to the girls, and even included my sister on her gift list last Christmas. I sent her homemade apple butter and “biscuits” (cookies in my good old American terms!), and specialty treats from the area. I remember once her response when I had sent her jalapeno brittle from a local candy factory; “bloody hell, you Americans are insane!” before declaring it “completely tasty, if with a wicked kick”.

I called her “English Rose” and teased her about being Titanic-ish; she would respond by calling me “Cranky Yankee” and said that NO, her heart will not go on, and she would have shoved Jack off of that floating piece of wood if he had dared climb up on it (another moment that we shared that special bond!) When she said that she felt like she would be at home in my home because we had similar comfortable tastes, I said that I always imagined her very properly British, and having her in my home would be like being visited by the Queen, and I would be certain to say or do something completely vulgar and horribly inappropriate; her response to that was wickedly funny and totally vulgar, as were our continued messages to each other the next few days.

I introduced the concept of “fluffernutter” sandwiches to her, which she found both loathsome and intriguing; in her very “Rosie” way, she called them f*ckernutter sandwiches, and then went on in a very very long, detailed paragraph in this otherwise emotional email about how a deformed man may have sexual issues, and perhaps that is where the sandwich came from. I have no idea what that stream of thought was about, as I was reading it, laughing until I cried. That was so very much like her; when she is in the midst of a long depressive rant of an email, throwing something utterly silly and ludicrous in there, just to lighten the mood.

We talked about a lot. About dark, serious things, and about music, figure skating, entertainment, books. About the drudgeries of home remodeling and housework, about why she preferred flowers to most people and I prefer animals to most people. About big things like life, philosophy, politics, and about little things, like whether either of us would ever be featured on the show if our last name happened to be Kardashian. She told me about her mailman asking her out on a date when she was haggard and sick with the flu, and I talked to her about the epic adventures of Weezie the wonder-ferret.

In our friendship, we shared and discussed many “little things”; but the friendship was a big, huge thing, and one that helped me in a really rough time, when I was dealing with betrayal from a “friend” and an upheaval of my life. While so frequently thanking me for my friendship, and telling me that I can always make her laugh and thanking me for making her feel special….she was doing for the same for me. I am so grateful that I had told her that, and that I shared as much as I did with her. No matter what happens, no matter whether you lose your friendship or not, no matter how painful today is and the near future may be, it is never a bad thing to take a chance on such a wonderful person.

I am sitting here with “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty” playing, one of my favorite ever movies, as I am drinking Rosie tea and writing about Rosie. The movie is a beautiful view of taking chances and following your dreams, becoming who you are meant to be. Along with some other friends, my incredible family, and a renewed understanding of happiness and gratitude, Rosie is someone who has helped me to become who I am now, as opposed to who I was even a few years ago.

Thank you my dear sweet friend. It is my hope that you are in peace, in light, and able to smile down gently on all who miss you. And thank you so much for the light that was YOU, that you shared. Just because you couldn’t find it doesn’t mean it didn’t exist. I look forward to when we meet up again some day. I’ll bring a fluffernutter and some biscuits. You bring the tea. I love you my dear friend.

So, I’m talking with my nieces tonight, as they are spending the night (Emery: Auntie? I don’t like black chicken!—-yes, my culinary skills when it comes to frying chicken is akin to the bacon I lit on fire on vacation a while back!) So we were goofing and talking, because one of my rules is limited movie time, and then talking/playing/reading time. So we were eating ice cream (since Auntie’s diet begins tomorrow!) and discussing deep topics such as whether Elsa or Anna has the prettier dresses, which of my cats is the softest, and what is the best flavor of ice cream. Somehow, this got to the famous old kiddie magic trick of pulling a penny out of one’s ear; a trick I am woefully bad at and can only fool a four year old, because I think that trick needs to be done by someone’s Uncle George to make it seem legit. And I’m not Uncle George.

So the penny trick works on Emery, since she is the more wide-eyed of the two. Maya smelled a rat, of course. So we try the penny trick on her, and then I asked her, well do you want it? I did pull it out of YOUR ear, you know! She said no I didn’t, so I said, ok, if you don’t want it, I guess I’ll just make it disappear; and then proceeded to do so. Then of course, Em yells “I want it!!”, and I had to confess, that the trick is to make it disappear, not come back, and I can’t make it come back because I’m not that good of a magician. But Em….I bet YOU are! So we get it all settled, get Emery a “magic wand” (Sharpie marker!), teach her the “magic words” (yep, “abra cadabra”!) and she swirls and then taps my hand, and WHOA, the penny is back! Yep Em, you’re a much better magician than I am!

Maya: That’s not magic. Oh, such sweet, serious, skeptical eyes! So we got into a discussion of what magic is….and all of the different kinds of magic. And how the most powerful magic in the world is each of us loving and believing in ourselves. If we believe it, we can achieve it, and our only limits are the boundaries of our imagination. Emery asked how a person can be magic? And then, the discussion turned to perception.

I reminded them about how there are two different ways we “see” things (something we had talked about once before); with our eyes and our brains. Our eyes “see” what is out there; our brain “perceives” what is possible with what is out there. So we talked about the power of perception, and how the mind can work such wonderous and powerful things, such as decreasing pain, or giving us fear, or decreasing fear, or helping us to succeed at nearly impossible tasks, or helping us to see answers to questions, or different ways of doing things, that we had never considered before. Emery “got” all this quicker than her sister; I think her very open and optimistic nature makes sense of this kind of thinking, while Maya the analyzer keeps her skepticism.

So I took Maya by the hand and took her to my front door, which was open with the security door on, and told her: “Look out there, and tell me what you see”. Being a very logical and literal four year old, she said “your front yard”. I told her yes, that is perfectly right and she is very smart, and that is what her eyes see; but, “what I see, is the WHOLE WORLD”. Because it is about perception. Taking two steps out my front door opens the whole world of adventure, opportunity, and amazement to us. Because that is what my brain sees. And the limit that your eyes see as the door, or the sidewalk, your brain doesn’t see any limits at all! All of that is out there, waiting for you to find your magic and go after it!

“WOW!!” two little girls say. Lesson learned. Eyes and brains opened. Hearts warm.

Wow indeed 🙂

As I continue to go in to work week after week, I realize that I fall more and more in love with the staff I work with! Some of the most remarkable, wonderful human beings on the planet grace the halls of our hospital.

When you consider the kind of work, and the nature of the jobs in health care, you would think that everyone would be compassionate, patient, kind, etc. Essentially, paragons of virtue. According to the almighty Gallup polls, Americans rate nurses as the most trustworthy professionals, with 80% rating nurses as being very high in honesty and ethics. Medical doctors are second, with 65% earning that “very high” standard in terms of ethics and honesty. High standards indeed, and with good reason. When you are working with people in the most difficult times of their lives, you have be pretty darned ethical.

So, when you think of it, my co-workers are a pretty high quality just by the nature of their jobs. However, I really think that my current job has hit the jackpot. My current position is one which involves some supervisory responsibilities. As such, I am better getting to know some of the other people in our division that I have been working with for some time, and wow, let me tell you! Such remarkable people, all of them! We have single parents, working 12-hour shifts, 3 and 4 times a week. We have people going through advanced education at the same time as working full-time. We have people who come in to work a night shift after 4-6 hours in school earlier in the day, and are just as bright and cheerful as can be. We have lovely young people, some in their first “real” jobs, who are so energized and enthusiastic, and so special in their efforts to make a difference to these patients. We have some older people who have been nurses or certified nurse assistants for years, who still exude their passion for the career. We have men and women, all who bring their personal experiences into the job, making them even better and more wonderful in the care they give to the patients. We have people who have been patients themselves, seriously ill or injured, who later decided to get into a career in health care, bringing their unique experience and viewpoints with them. We have people who champion healthy living, and are wonderful ambassadors of our profession. People who deal with stress with compassion, with humor, with fantastic teamwork. People who prank each other, and still have each other’s backs in the heat of moment. People who can be joking and silly with each other one moment, and amazingly professional and respectful to distraught patients and family members the next. Chameleons, magicians, advocates, teachers, humorists, humanitarians and brilliant multi-taskers.

I look at my place among all of these phenomenal people, and I am so very proud to be a part of this amazing group. Seeing the care, the compassion, and the amazing patience these remarkable professionals, young and old, share with every person they interact with is just so incredible to watch. I hope only that each of them, each of us, is capable of treating ourselves, and each other, as well as we treat these people who so highly regard us. Because each of these individuals deserves that same high regard, that same patience, and that same compassion.

To all of my co-workers, both present and recent past: I LOVE YOU GUYS!!!!

“You’re too tall”. “You’re too short”. “You’re too fat”. “You’re too skinny”. You’re too……old, young, smart, stupid, your hair is the wrong color, your hair is too long/short, you have tattoos, you have piercings, you don’t wear the right clothes, you don’t live in the right neighborhood, you should eat organic, you should shop American, your house is too small, your house is too big, you are still single, you don’t have children, you have too many children……….

Think of all of the negative ideas that are being thrown at us by the universe. All of the ways that our own, denigrating society is trying to tell us that we aren’t good enough. That we are somehow failures because we are “too” something as demonstrated in paragraph number one (hmmm, too verbose? 🙂 ) Think of the fact that, not only are we as adults being subjected to these ridiculous standards, but so are our children, and the younger members of our society. And where exactly did these standards come from? Some superficially impossible standards that have set us all up for failure based on the idea that all women should be 25, 5’10” and 120 pounds? Some insulated society that can’t handle the view of non-airbrushed people, and who feel that natural aging is “unfortunate”?

True beauty is up to individual interpretation. And as such, it is the same as art; it is truly in the eye of the beholder. So for those who find the only beautiful people to be those who are sculpted and surgically altered to the point of Barbie-doll perfection, that is all just fine and dandy. But that ain’t what I think of in terms of art or beauty. I live in Northern Nevada. I am surrounded by what I consider beauty (I’m fortunate though; I have found something beautiful about everywhere I’ve lived, from east coast to west, out of the U.S. and within it). I am surrounded by mountains, and trees, and stars, and sunrises and sunsets, and beautiful lakes and gorgeous snow in the winter.

But when it comes to art, I feel even more blessed. Because everyone in my life, every person I meet, is a work of art. All of those things alluded to in the first paragraph, all of those “too”s, just make that art even more spectacular. Because no two pieces of this art are alike, and that in itself is something stunningly beautiful.

My nieces and I had a discussion a few days ago about the word “strange”. Because they were under the impression that this was somehow a negative word. But, how is that true? “Strange” means “unique”, and different, and of a singular sensation. Yes, each of them is “strange”, just as I am as well, and as everyone in this world is. And there is no such universal insult as “too strange”, ever. All of us are just the right amount of our own strange!

With all of the negative rumblings we receive from the universe, love is rebellion; self-love is even more rebellious, happiness is a revolution—and I’ve always been a bit of a deviant!

To misquote the great Jim Morrison: People are strange, when you’re a stranger; faces are lovely, and we’re never alone! 🙂

So, I took my 4 year old twin nieces for an ice skating lesson today. One of the wonders of spending time with children is getting to be in on so many “firsts” for them! I got to take them to their first rodeo; their first merry-go-round and roller coaster rides; their first time at the zoo; their first “hike” (about 0.4 of a mile, to a waterfall, but that’s a hike for 3 year olds!); taking them to learn to ski, to bowl, to swim. Now ice skating. As with most things, one of them took to it a little quicker than the other; but both of them were so very determined and bold, it just made me proud!

Afterwards, on the way home (and to get some hot cocoa!), they were talking about what they want to be when they grow up. Maya wants to be a figure skater, and a princess. Oh, and a ballerina. And later a doctor, like her mom. Emery wants to be a pairs figure skater, because the girl “gets to fly”! And a downhill skier who goes really fast. Oh yeah, and a ballerina. And another doctor. The wonderful, tentative, ever-changing grownup goals of four year olds!

But, think about it: what keeps us, as adults from continuing to have such grandiose dreams? Has the universe really quelled our enthusiasm? Is it “reality” to know that we’ll probably never be an artist, a dancer, a published author, an entertainer; or is it the oppression of societal expectations and our own mind? Really, the boundary of our capabilities is really limited only by our imaginations. What we dream, truly dream, what we are passionate about, we truly can achieve. We just let the idea of “reality” oppress us into giving up, or even more sadly, not even trying.

There is so much of a child’s wonder and enthusiasm that I wish we didn’t seem to lose as adults. The ability to believe that anything is possible is just one of those things. And that we are much more than some easily defined and categorized creature in a plain box. Heck, didn’t the “Breakfast club” already teach us all that we are so much more complex than the labels assigned to us by society?

So, as adults, shouldn’t we be able to find a compromise between “reality” and passionate dreams? I think we can. Will I ever be a prima ballerina in the Bolshoi? Nope, but I can crank up my radio and shake my booty, and enjoy the abandon of dancing around with happiness. Will I ever be Jack Kerouac or Toni Morrison? Nope, but I can certainly string together sentences and paragraphs and get thoughts and ideas out in written communication (thanks, WordPress! 😉 ) And will I ever be an Olympic athlete? Nope, but I can appreciate that my body is in better shape now than it was 20 years ago, and do everything in my power to keep it like that.

For those who’s dreams have died, I am sincerely sorry. But for those who may still have the spark, I say continue to go for your dreams. Yes, maybe you will have to downgrade them slightly; but there is nothing to prevent you from enjoying the heck out of what life is bringing your way at this point, and making your current reality your dreams come true! Rebel against reality, and become the princess you truly are!!