Bible studies are supposed to be feel-good experiences, right? Times in life where you can go, connect with believers in your church/congregations, and learn about G-d. Am I right in this? Or are these just thoughts coming from left field?
Maybe I'm just one of the few that have found bible studies that have caused me to question many things that have held fast as "truths" in my life. I've been a part of a couple of studies now, that have shaken me thoroughly. All for good, but it's been a rough ride, nonetheless.
I've wrestled with G-d. I've sobbed uncontrollably. I've begun to hope for a fresh start and a newness in my walk. Most of all, I've discovered that many of the "truths" I've learned throughout my life have been nothing more than deep seated lies that I, unfortunately, clung to because it was all I had.
Bible study #1: The Quest: An Excursion Toward Intimacy with God - by Beth Moore
Bible study #2: Anointed, Transformed, Redeemed: A Study of David - by Priscilla Shirer, Beth Moore, and Kay Arthur
Bible study #3: Surprised by the Healer: Embracing Hope for Your Broken Story - by Linda Dillow and Dr. Juli Slattery
First off, I'm still in the middle of bible study #2 and just started #3 last week (I got the book today). All I can say is oh. my. goodness.
Y'all, I read Surprised by the Healer all today! It's composed of 9 women's stories of sexual brokenness, of one type or another, and I could not read it fast enough. I plumb gobbled it up! It took me all of about 5.5 hours to complete, with bathroom and Facebook breaks (because these stories are all intense), and I completed it all in an evening. Granted, there is a bible study with questions that is at the end of the book, that I haven't started on, but I read all of the stories through.
The Quest had me wrestling, sobbing, yelling, angry, and fighting to come closer to G-d. He broke down walls, let me have my tantrums, but He didn't let me stay there in the anger. My ladies at bible study prayed for healing for me after the second or third week of me going to my counselor overwhelmed, and He started healing me in more tangible ways. The ladies didn't know what I needed healing from. They initially didn't know how He had healed me when I came back thanking them for praying. Last week, for the first time, I shared a bit more of my story with them and He extended even more healing to me through that. This bible study is the exact bible study I needed at this time in my life. It wouldn't have helped any earlier, and L-rd knows I needed to not wait any longer. It is the beginning of a season of true healing and grace for me, and it is still difficult, but the lines of communication are no longer muffled between the Good L-rd and I (muffled because of walls I put up, obviously He doesn't put up walls!)
Anointed, Transformed, Redeemed is a study I am still working through. G-d is allowing me to take a deeper look at the life of David, and the mistakes he made, while also seeing why he was called "a man after G-d's own heart". As mentioned in the study, "not all devastation begins with sin" (slight paraphrase because the "quote" was solely based on my limited memory). G-d brings us through pain and tribulation that is sometimes a result of sin, but sometimes it's simply a result of other people choosing evil and you just so happen to be the one that gets hurt. L-rd knows I've sinned a lot in my life, but sometimes, not every bad thing that happens to me is my fault. I didn't deserve the assaults, the rape, the abuse, the problems. I didn't ask for them and I certainly didn't make anyone hurt me the way that they did. Unfortunately, I was unable to make better choices to prevent these things from happening, but I was also not well equipped, and so I'm struggling to show myself grace for fighting with my limited defense choices.
Folks, these bible studies have allowed G-d to awaken a deep desire to know Him that has been hidden away for years. Surprised by the Healer mentions that pain can be a good thing. Pain can allow you to come to the end of yourself, to let you understand brokenness so that you can actually understand healing and love. Pain can knock you out of your rut, your routine "religious/Christian/perfect/faith-filled" life into a life of true faith, true intimacy with G-d, and true devotion. Only when you have experienced pain can you truly understand why it is that you need G-d and how He provides for you. Intimacy is something I so crave; from friends, relationships, family, G-d. I don't like the surface-level questions and answers. When I ask how you are, I want to know how you are. I want to know your struggles, your joys, your real-life miracles. I want to be able to see how G-d is working in your life, and how you have been able to overcome the unthinkable. I want to have in-depth discussions of what G-d is speaking to you about, what He is showing you in the Word, and how you are applying that to your life. I want to be able to walk beside you in life and be able to glean wisdom from your life, and you can maybe glean some wisdom from mine. I want the kind of intimacy where G-d comes and sits at the coffee table with us, and infuses our time with the highest of highs, because He is walking with us and letting us learn through our lows.
I'm so sick of talking about clothes, the weather, if I'm dating anyone right now, and how my family is.
I want to know people.
I want people to know me.
I just want to know that the struggles I've faced were not faced in vain and alone. I want to know that come kind of good can come from the pain I've experienced. I want to know that my story has either prevented someone else from experiencing the same things I have, or that my story is able to bring comfort and healing to someone who has already walked through something similar.
I want to know that this is not all for nothing. That something good can come from this mess.
I want to know that I will not die, keeping secrets buried with me, that could have helped someone. Anyone. Even if it's a single person, in the entirety of time, at least it was of benefit to them.
I need to know that there is something more to all of this suffering. And my story is not even close to being the worst I've read or heard from others!!!
How can I be used to help in healing others? I haven't experienced the worst of pains, but the pain I have is the worst I've survived. How am I supposed to be able to speak life into others? How can my life be used to bring any comfort or support to someone else? How can G-d use a little baby nurse to do His work?
I feel absolutely inadequate to do much of anything. I don't even know how to keep friends for any length of time because I push them away or I attracted the types of people that only hang out with me while I am beneficial to them. How is that supposed to be any help if relationships aren't my strong suit? Don't even get me started on dating or marriage!!!
I want G-d to use my story, my life. I just can't imagine how He'll do it.
And yet, I feel called to something bigger.
Wednesday, March 21, 2018
Friday, March 16, 2018
Sharing My Story
This is not the post where I will share my story. However, I am recounting to you, how I did share it... yesterday.
Every Thursday, I go to bible study at a local church. This is not the church I regularly attend, but it is one I have tried a couple times through college, and so I am not afraid to go, I'm just not a regular. A few months ago, I decided I wanted to start going to a bible study, and I searched many churches in town. This particular church was going to be starting a fresh "semester" in a few weeks and I knew that many of the ladies I work with went there. So, I started asking around and one lady from work told me she had been thinking about going to this study. We agreed to start together and it's been wonderful! She and I are not in the same small group within the bible study, and that is okay. It's nice just knowing that she is there and to be able to see her every once in a while.
Last week, during bible study, I felt that G-d was speaking to me that I would be sharing my story this week. Yes, I scoffed at Him a little bit, but I also told Him that if He would lead me and give me the words, I would go. If you have read a few posts ago, I felt as though G-d has been telling me to get ready to begin sharing it. I, of course, met Him with questions and slight trepidation that He won't just tell me when, where, how, who, or what. Alas, that is not how He often operates with me.
This week, I was sitting through the video and, again, clear as day I heard Him tell me I was going to share "today" (that was yesterday). The video ended, we broke into our small groups, and we shared prayer requests and prayed, as usual. When we got to talking about this week's study, one lady (who I have so appreciated because she shared her story with us) began to talk about this week's study and what it has meant to her. Then He told me to share. It was related to what she was talking about, so I branched off of that. I began talking, my lip started to quiver, tears filled my eyes, but I kept talking. As I continued, I began to cry, which I have a very difficult time doing in front of others, but I continued on. When I finished (I only talked for less than 5 minutes), I was all but sobbing and the leader of the group and the lady that I have come to so appreciate for her story, they both came up and hugged me. Of course, this lead to more crying, the kind where you can't breathe anymore.
When I came to and got better use of my vision, I noticed many of the women were crying right along with me. They were hurting for the pain I've been experiencing for so long. They were hurting for a young lady, with so much life before her, having been hurt at a fairly young age. They encouraged me, thanked me for sharing, and praised the L-rd that when they came together and asked for healing for me several week prior, that He answered the prayers so immediately and I was now able to share with them the results. I was able to share with them my vision of the White Robe and the verse when G-d told Peter to kill and eat. Peter resisted, because these animals were un-kosher and "unclean". 3 times G-d told him to eat, and 3 times Peter resisted. Then, G-d told Peter to "not call unclean, that which I have called clean." This scene also came to my mind, with the White Robe vision, and I finally accepted that I have been made clean. That I have been forgiven. That I am untarnished, not wasted, and more precious than anyone could ever understand, to the One who made me and continues to carry me.
After telling my story (in very little detail, mostly just that I have been abused and have C-PTSD), these women I have come to care for so deeply (at an arms length, of course) did not shun me, forsake me, nor break my heart with faces that showed their broken hearts. Instead, I saw in them a sense of understanding in my bible study responses and prayer requests, as well as an appreciation for how far I have come in such a short time. They watched me go from reserved, to angry, to struggling internally, to excited at sudden healing, to now. Now, I am in a place of battle, but much less wearisome. I am in a place where I am hearing G-d speak so clearly to me, that I need to share and help other girls, ladies, women, people, through the turbulence of surviving sexual assault and abuse. I don't know how, who, where, when, or what, but I know that I have been called clearly.
This is the first time, since I was in middle school and committed myself to G-d, that I have been able to hear Him this clearly. I don't want this to stop. I feel like I have had ear plugs in for year and I could hear Him faintly, but now I've taken them out and can hear Him so much better. Praise the L-rd.
'Til next time, friends.
Every Thursday, I go to bible study at a local church. This is not the church I regularly attend, but it is one I have tried a couple times through college, and so I am not afraid to go, I'm just not a regular. A few months ago, I decided I wanted to start going to a bible study, and I searched many churches in town. This particular church was going to be starting a fresh "semester" in a few weeks and I knew that many of the ladies I work with went there. So, I started asking around and one lady from work told me she had been thinking about going to this study. We agreed to start together and it's been wonderful! She and I are not in the same small group within the bible study, and that is okay. It's nice just knowing that she is there and to be able to see her every once in a while.
Last week, during bible study, I felt that G-d was speaking to me that I would be sharing my story this week. Yes, I scoffed at Him a little bit, but I also told Him that if He would lead me and give me the words, I would go. If you have read a few posts ago, I felt as though G-d has been telling me to get ready to begin sharing it. I, of course, met Him with questions and slight trepidation that He won't just tell me when, where, how, who, or what. Alas, that is not how He often operates with me.
This week, I was sitting through the video and, again, clear as day I heard Him tell me I was going to share "today" (that was yesterday). The video ended, we broke into our small groups, and we shared prayer requests and prayed, as usual. When we got to talking about this week's study, one lady (who I have so appreciated because she shared her story with us) began to talk about this week's study and what it has meant to her. Then He told me to share. It was related to what she was talking about, so I branched off of that. I began talking, my lip started to quiver, tears filled my eyes, but I kept talking. As I continued, I began to cry, which I have a very difficult time doing in front of others, but I continued on. When I finished (I only talked for less than 5 minutes), I was all but sobbing and the leader of the group and the lady that I have come to so appreciate for her story, they both came up and hugged me. Of course, this lead to more crying, the kind where you can't breathe anymore.
When I came to and got better use of my vision, I noticed many of the women were crying right along with me. They were hurting for the pain I've been experiencing for so long. They were hurting for a young lady, with so much life before her, having been hurt at a fairly young age. They encouraged me, thanked me for sharing, and praised the L-rd that when they came together and asked for healing for me several week prior, that He answered the prayers so immediately and I was now able to share with them the results. I was able to share with them my vision of the White Robe and the verse when G-d told Peter to kill and eat. Peter resisted, because these animals were un-kosher and "unclean". 3 times G-d told him to eat, and 3 times Peter resisted. Then, G-d told Peter to "not call unclean, that which I have called clean." This scene also came to my mind, with the White Robe vision, and I finally accepted that I have been made clean. That I have been forgiven. That I am untarnished, not wasted, and more precious than anyone could ever understand, to the One who made me and continues to carry me.
After telling my story (in very little detail, mostly just that I have been abused and have C-PTSD), these women I have come to care for so deeply (at an arms length, of course) did not shun me, forsake me, nor break my heart with faces that showed their broken hearts. Instead, I saw in them a sense of understanding in my bible study responses and prayer requests, as well as an appreciation for how far I have come in such a short time. They watched me go from reserved, to angry, to struggling internally, to excited at sudden healing, to now. Now, I am in a place of battle, but much less wearisome. I am in a place where I am hearing G-d speak so clearly to me, that I need to share and help other girls, ladies, women, people, through the turbulence of surviving sexual assault and abuse. I don't know how, who, where, when, or what, but I know that I have been called clearly.
This is the first time, since I was in middle school and committed myself to G-d, that I have been able to hear Him this clearly. I don't want this to stop. I feel like I have had ear plugs in for year and I could hear Him faintly, but now I've taken them out and can hear Him so much better. Praise the L-rd.
'Til next time, friends.
Wednesday, March 14, 2018
Chicago
I recently got the opportunity to go with Big Red (a very petite little redhead) and Beauty to Chicago. They are friends from nursing school that have now moved away from College Town and we decided to go be adventurous.
For those that may/may not know, I love the Divergent series and the Hunger Games series. These movies had just released their first movies when I was newly going through the after effects of my first sexual assault from exboyfriend and the problems following Country Boy's suicide.
At first, I could not handle these movies. They are intense. Divergent has a scene where Tris is attacked by 3 guys who attempt to throw her into this cavern to her death. Tris also experiences the aftermath of a friend committing suicide.
After a couple of tries of watching the movies (yes, it took me multiple times of watching a few minutes at a time before I could get through the movies. However, once I got through them, I began to watch them over and over. I felt comforted by them, but could not peg why such dark movies meant so much to me and were able to comfort me so well.
After months and months of thinking about it, I came to this conclusion: I felt like Tris and Katniss.
They were experiencing constant war; I was fighting an epic battle of my own. They were outcasts with something to fight for; I too felt like an outcast with things to do in my life and something to fight for. They experienced much heartache, trauma, and flashbacks; sound familiar to anything I have written about? These young women survived, against all odds, terrible circumstances. I survived a friend's suicide, multiple sexual assaults/rapes, self harm, suicide attempts, domestic violence, loss of friends, college (against all odds, and nursing school was difficult without the addition of my PTSD), and yet I continued on.
When Big Red first suggested taking a trip, I didn't want to go. I didn't want to spend the money and go be triggered for a solid 4 days with no relief (as I knew would happen). I didn't want to do anything. It was proposed in one of my seasons of depression and exhaustion. Working two jobs, navigating the ups and downs associated with getting into counseling again, and struggling with friendships that had had their ups and downs that I still haven't fully healed from.
Eventually I agreed to go. One night I got this sudden wander lust and one of my bucket list destinations just so happened to be Chicago. Big Red had suggested 2 places and I immediately jumped on the "Chicago train". As we proceeded to plan, buy tickets, and get things in order, I realized (slowly) that Chicago is where the Divergent stories took place!
We started picking places we wanted to go and I chose the John Hancock Building (360 Chicago now) and the Navy Pier. The Pier is where Tris dominated capture the flag by climbing up the ferris wheel and Tris ziplines with the Dauntless Born initiates from the top of the John Hancock building (I think, don't quote me on that). Whatever, the John Hancock building had AMAZING views of the Pier and the rest of Chicago, especially at night, which is when we went.
My mom had often described her college experience as a very "romantic" time in her life. She came from a family that did not go to college, where she grew up without food most days. When she went to college, she was so excited and in unbelief that she had made it that far.
I never understood that feeling, until I got to Chicago. It felt like coming home. Not because I'm from there, or because I had ever been there, but it seemed like a place that had provided a backdrop to a story that got me through so many rough times. Basically, I'm secretly super sentimental and I was processing how far I had come from the time I first started attempting to watch Divergent and the Hunger Games Series to get to the point where I am now.
I did not share this reason for wanting to go to the Navy Pier, or Chicago for that matter, until my last night there with my friends. There was a time that I relied on them too much for support in my immediate post-trauma period, and I ended up overwhelming Beauty. When I had originally told Big Red what had happened to me, she cried in the middle of the mall as strangers strolled by and stared at us. Big Red does not cry, and I made her cry. Because of these experiences, I felt like I needed to avoid telling people my story. I didn't want to burden anyone with this overwhelming, crushing pain. It broke my heart to feel like I had hurt others because I shared my story with them. Looking back, I told Beauty far too much and "word vomited" my pain onto her. As far as Big Red goes, she was simply hurt because I had been hurt so horrifically and she was joining with me to feel that pain. She was mourning the injustices forced upon me. I didn't break her, she was validating how unfair it was for anyone, let alone her friend, to have to go through that. Especially from my first ever boyfriends.
I am now learning to be vulnerable and to share, without over-sharing. By sharing my reasoning for wanting to go to Chicago and see the Navy Pier after they had already agreed to go, they were able to share in my gratefulness and growth. They joined in my gladness because they had walked the most raw parts of my journey with me.
I can see G-d moving in my life friends. It's been awhile since I had been able to see it, but He's showing up so clearly I'm often dumbfounded.
For those that may/may not know, I love the Divergent series and the Hunger Games series. These movies had just released their first movies when I was newly going through the after effects of my first sexual assault from exboyfriend and the problems following Country Boy's suicide.
At first, I could not handle these movies. They are intense. Divergent has a scene where Tris is attacked by 3 guys who attempt to throw her into this cavern to her death. Tris also experiences the aftermath of a friend committing suicide.
After a couple of tries of watching the movies (yes, it took me multiple times of watching a few minutes at a time before I could get through the movies. However, once I got through them, I began to watch them over and over. I felt comforted by them, but could not peg why such dark movies meant so much to me and were able to comfort me so well.
After months and months of thinking about it, I came to this conclusion: I felt like Tris and Katniss.
They were experiencing constant war; I was fighting an epic battle of my own. They were outcasts with something to fight for; I too felt like an outcast with things to do in my life and something to fight for. They experienced much heartache, trauma, and flashbacks; sound familiar to anything I have written about? These young women survived, against all odds, terrible circumstances. I survived a friend's suicide, multiple sexual assaults/rapes, self harm, suicide attempts, domestic violence, loss of friends, college (against all odds, and nursing school was difficult without the addition of my PTSD), and yet I continued on.
When Big Red first suggested taking a trip, I didn't want to go. I didn't want to spend the money and go be triggered for a solid 4 days with no relief (as I knew would happen). I didn't want to do anything. It was proposed in one of my seasons of depression and exhaustion. Working two jobs, navigating the ups and downs associated with getting into counseling again, and struggling with friendships that had had their ups and downs that I still haven't fully healed from.
Eventually I agreed to go. One night I got this sudden wander lust and one of my bucket list destinations just so happened to be Chicago. Big Red had suggested 2 places and I immediately jumped on the "Chicago train". As we proceeded to plan, buy tickets, and get things in order, I realized (slowly) that Chicago is where the Divergent stories took place!
We started picking places we wanted to go and I chose the John Hancock Building (360 Chicago now) and the Navy Pier. The Pier is where Tris dominated capture the flag by climbing up the ferris wheel and Tris ziplines with the Dauntless Born initiates from the top of the John Hancock building (I think, don't quote me on that). Whatever, the John Hancock building had AMAZING views of the Pier and the rest of Chicago, especially at night, which is when we went.
My mom had often described her college experience as a very "romantic" time in her life. She came from a family that did not go to college, where she grew up without food most days. When she went to college, she was so excited and in unbelief that she had made it that far.
I never understood that feeling, until I got to Chicago. It felt like coming home. Not because I'm from there, or because I had ever been there, but it seemed like a place that had provided a backdrop to a story that got me through so many rough times. Basically, I'm secretly super sentimental and I was processing how far I had come from the time I first started attempting to watch Divergent and the Hunger Games Series to get to the point where I am now.
I did not share this reason for wanting to go to the Navy Pier, or Chicago for that matter, until my last night there with my friends. There was a time that I relied on them too much for support in my immediate post-trauma period, and I ended up overwhelming Beauty. When I had originally told Big Red what had happened to me, she cried in the middle of the mall as strangers strolled by and stared at us. Big Red does not cry, and I made her cry. Because of these experiences, I felt like I needed to avoid telling people my story. I didn't want to burden anyone with this overwhelming, crushing pain. It broke my heart to feel like I had hurt others because I shared my story with them. Looking back, I told Beauty far too much and "word vomited" my pain onto her. As far as Big Red goes, she was simply hurt because I had been hurt so horrifically and she was joining with me to feel that pain. She was mourning the injustices forced upon me. I didn't break her, she was validating how unfair it was for anyone, let alone her friend, to have to go through that. Especially from my first ever boyfriends.
I am now learning to be vulnerable and to share, without over-sharing. By sharing my reasoning for wanting to go to Chicago and see the Navy Pier after they had already agreed to go, they were able to share in my gratefulness and growth. They joined in my gladness because they had walked the most raw parts of my journey with me.
I can see G-d moving in my life friends. It's been awhile since I had been able to see it, but He's showing up so clearly I'm often dumbfounded.
Tuesday, March 13, 2018
Heaping Scoop of Dissappointment
I applied to graduate school for Nurse Midwifery to a campus that is a sister school to my alma mater. I thought it would be amazing! Go to school and graduate somewhere that is in the same school network... go do clinicals up where my parents live so I can just live with them... everything will be wonderful!
Well, I submitted my application and waited. One day, there in my email box, was an email inviting me to an interview day. Yes, they made a whole blessed day out of it. 8-4, there were 2 interviews (with all 16 of the faculty for the program), seminars from: current students, faculty from your specific specialty (there were other nurse practitioner applicants there too and they split us all up), financial aid, and several other people. Then, at the very end of the day, I had to write an essay! *sigh*
Then, I wait. Wait for their decision. Wait in hopes that I get in. Wait in trepidation that I wasn't what they were looking for, even though I was supposedly chosen out of hundreds of other applicants for this interview day.
This morning, after night shift, I got the call that I didn't get in. It's a bummer.
I called my mom and told her, but not with any more emotion than could be mustered to just state it matter-of-factly. She encouraged me that whatever the L-rd wants to have happen, will happen. "Maybe there are trips or something else you need to be available for," she suggested, in true Mom fashion. "Yeah," was all I could respond.
While I am not at the point of tears (because I believe my give-a-damn was broken with the trauma), I am disappointed. This was my first choice of schools. I have had so many other people apply to graduate school around me, and several of them were accepted to several schools on the first try! I keep hoping that they will email me back and tell me that the first email was a mistake and that I was actually accepted, but that longing seems to be more of the bargaining stage in my journey to acceptance.
It's funny because about a week ago, my mom met this lady who's daughter is one of the faculty members for the nurse-midwifery program at the university I wanted to attend. They got to talking and the lady gave my mom this faculty member's email and encouraged me to reach out to her. So, I emailed the lady, saying that "my mom met your mom and they wanted me to email you" but she never responded. It is awkward to begin with, but worse now that I know I wasn't accepted.
I don't really want to wait until next year to begin school, only because I wanted to graduate 2020 to keep my high school graduation (2012) even with my college graduation (2016) then grad school to be finished in 2020. How pretty is that?! Alas, it doesn't seem like it will happen. Plus, I want to get married and start a family at some point. I was really hoping to graduate and be settled before this happens.
Only the L-rd knows why things happen the way that they do. All I can do is pray and follow His lead.
In less painful news, I quit my position at the NICU. For those of you that haven't read all of my happenings; I was working NICU and L&D, for several months now. When I first moved back here, I was hired for L&D, but there was no position open. I know what you are thinking, why hire somebody for a position that is not open?! Yeah, I'm not sure. Regardless, the managers of L&D decided that they still wanted me, but bargained with me that I could be hired and would need to work Mom/Baby while waiting for an L&D position to open up.
I was so torn. I had had offers for several NICU positions around the state. I didn't want to give up my critical care specialty for anything other than a position that would be able to further my career. As such, I bargained with that manager, and the NICU manager that offered me a position at a level 3 NICU at the same time. I got both managers agree to let me work both jobs at the same time, with working part-time at both places. They both agreed, and both agreed to be "flexible" with my scheduling to assist me with this endeavor.
Fast-forward about a month and a half into working NICU: I have already had several scheduling problems with NICU because the people in charge of scheduling will not email me back after several weeks! My manager called me to yell at me, and I stood my ground. I gave her evidence and explained to her the many, many ways I had tried to resolve the issue, with no success. HR had emailed about how the unit could be improved and I responded with several pages worth of diplomatically worded suggestions. Spoiler alert: none of those changes were made. Shocker, I know. Continue on in my journey there, and I find out about legal actions being taken, they refuse to train me to the level 3 kids (even though I have level 3 experience and they begin training those hired after me to train to the critical kids before me), they continue to con me into working day shift holidays where I am losing time with my family as well as night shift differential. The list goes on!
The reason I stayed so long, is that I thought I needed to work NICU for 2 years before I could get my critical care nurse certification (RNC). About 4 days ago, I was reading over the requirements again, and I discovered I needed 2 years as an RN, but only some of my career needed to be in NICU!!! WHAT A WONDERFUL DISCOVERY!!!
I learned this little tidbit, while I was working L&D and I was nearly singing and dancing in the halls! I told everyone of my coworkers about it!!! Suddenly, my decision was clear: quit NICU. Life is too short to be dreading every. single. shift. Work is not the end-all-be-all of life. We work to be able to afford fun things, trips, food, etc. I don't need to sustain this life of being miserable at a work where management does not treat me well, my license is not safe to practice there, I don't agree with their practices, they continually screw me out of pay while requiring more and more from me, and day-shift (plus many night-shifters) are rude and miserable there as well!
So I quit. Then, I worked an L&D shift and they all celebrated with me. Such joy from my coworkers! They shared how glad they were that I am there. They fought over keeping me on their pod (we have 2 with a little hallway in between). The patients are communicated the same information from everybody, so they are grateful and understanding of the care they receive. (NICU nurses at the other place were regularly told different things from each nurse/nurse practitioner/doctor they encountered because there are no protocols and everybody practices based on how they were trained somewhere else.) While there are still people that I clash with in L&D, we are largely coherent on night shift, and even several of day shift people. They encourage my sarcastic jokes, dark humor, and general personality quirks. They like my hard-work and how much I try to help my patients through labor and delivery. They like that I do my best to continually learn and improve and help others when I can. They understand me better.
I like it here.
Well, I submitted my application and waited. One day, there in my email box, was an email inviting me to an interview day. Yes, they made a whole blessed day out of it. 8-4, there were 2 interviews (with all 16 of the faculty for the program), seminars from: current students, faculty from your specific specialty (there were other nurse practitioner applicants there too and they split us all up), financial aid, and several other people. Then, at the very end of the day, I had to write an essay! *sigh*
Then, I wait. Wait for their decision. Wait in hopes that I get in. Wait in trepidation that I wasn't what they were looking for, even though I was supposedly chosen out of hundreds of other applicants for this interview day.
This morning, after night shift, I got the call that I didn't get in. It's a bummer.
I called my mom and told her, but not with any more emotion than could be mustered to just state it matter-of-factly. She encouraged me that whatever the L-rd wants to have happen, will happen. "Maybe there are trips or something else you need to be available for," she suggested, in true Mom fashion. "Yeah," was all I could respond.
While I am not at the point of tears (because I believe my give-a-damn was broken with the trauma), I am disappointed. This was my first choice of schools. I have had so many other people apply to graduate school around me, and several of them were accepted to several schools on the first try! I keep hoping that they will email me back and tell me that the first email was a mistake and that I was actually accepted, but that longing seems to be more of the bargaining stage in my journey to acceptance.
It's funny because about a week ago, my mom met this lady who's daughter is one of the faculty members for the nurse-midwifery program at the university I wanted to attend. They got to talking and the lady gave my mom this faculty member's email and encouraged me to reach out to her. So, I emailed the lady, saying that "my mom met your mom and they wanted me to email you" but she never responded. It is awkward to begin with, but worse now that I know I wasn't accepted.
I don't really want to wait until next year to begin school, only because I wanted to graduate 2020 to keep my high school graduation (2012) even with my college graduation (2016) then grad school to be finished in 2020. How pretty is that?! Alas, it doesn't seem like it will happen. Plus, I want to get married and start a family at some point. I was really hoping to graduate and be settled before this happens.
Only the L-rd knows why things happen the way that they do. All I can do is pray and follow His lead.
In less painful news, I quit my position at the NICU. For those of you that haven't read all of my happenings; I was working NICU and L&D, for several months now. When I first moved back here, I was hired for L&D, but there was no position open. I know what you are thinking, why hire somebody for a position that is not open?! Yeah, I'm not sure. Regardless, the managers of L&D decided that they still wanted me, but bargained with me that I could be hired and would need to work Mom/Baby while waiting for an L&D position to open up.
I was so torn. I had had offers for several NICU positions around the state. I didn't want to give up my critical care specialty for anything other than a position that would be able to further my career. As such, I bargained with that manager, and the NICU manager that offered me a position at a level 3 NICU at the same time. I got both managers agree to let me work both jobs at the same time, with working part-time at both places. They both agreed, and both agreed to be "flexible" with my scheduling to assist me with this endeavor.
Fast-forward about a month and a half into working NICU: I have already had several scheduling problems with NICU because the people in charge of scheduling will not email me back after several weeks! My manager called me to yell at me, and I stood my ground. I gave her evidence and explained to her the many, many ways I had tried to resolve the issue, with no success. HR had emailed about how the unit could be improved and I responded with several pages worth of diplomatically worded suggestions. Spoiler alert: none of those changes were made. Shocker, I know. Continue on in my journey there, and I find out about legal actions being taken, they refuse to train me to the level 3 kids (even though I have level 3 experience and they begin training those hired after me to train to the critical kids before me), they continue to con me into working day shift holidays where I am losing time with my family as well as night shift differential. The list goes on!
The reason I stayed so long, is that I thought I needed to work NICU for 2 years before I could get my critical care nurse certification (RNC). About 4 days ago, I was reading over the requirements again, and I discovered I needed 2 years as an RN, but only some of my career needed to be in NICU!!! WHAT A WONDERFUL DISCOVERY!!!
I learned this little tidbit, while I was working L&D and I was nearly singing and dancing in the halls! I told everyone of my coworkers about it!!! Suddenly, my decision was clear: quit NICU. Life is too short to be dreading every. single. shift. Work is not the end-all-be-all of life. We work to be able to afford fun things, trips, food, etc. I don't need to sustain this life of being miserable at a work where management does not treat me well, my license is not safe to practice there, I don't agree with their practices, they continually screw me out of pay while requiring more and more from me, and day-shift (plus many night-shifters) are rude and miserable there as well!
So I quit. Then, I worked an L&D shift and they all celebrated with me. Such joy from my coworkers! They shared how glad they were that I am there. They fought over keeping me on their pod (we have 2 with a little hallway in between). The patients are communicated the same information from everybody, so they are grateful and understanding of the care they receive. (NICU nurses at the other place were regularly told different things from each nurse/nurse practitioner/doctor they encountered because there are no protocols and everybody practices based on how they were trained somewhere else.) While there are still people that I clash with in L&D, we are largely coherent on night shift, and even several of day shift people. They encourage my sarcastic jokes, dark humor, and general personality quirks. They like my hard-work and how much I try to help my patients through labor and delivery. They like that I do my best to continually learn and improve and help others when I can. They understand me better.
I like it here.
Sunday, February 18, 2018
Some Push to Know "My Story"
In the last week, I have been slapped in the face, by G-d, several times to get my story figured out. There have been somewhere around 5 or more times that this has come up in this last week. I kid you not!
- Group therapy
- Individual counseling
- Bible study (several times over 3 week's worth of lessons, but I was behind on these particular lessons until just now... like G-d planned me being late on completing them or something...)
- Church service last night
- My "fun" fictional reading book about Ruth and Boaz
I know there have been other instances, but I cannot figure them out right now.
WHAT IS THIS PUSH FOR ME TO WRITE OUT MY STORY???!!!???
My story. The reason for the Hope that I have in the L-rd. Why I keep going.
But who am I going to tell? What is it that they need to hear from it? What is supposed to be used for someone else? It seems so many people around me are sharing their stories in a sentence or two. Am I supposed to keep it that short? Am I supposed to talk of Country Boy's suicide? Of what my childhood was like? How long is it supposed to be? Are we doing the G rated version or something a little more PG to PG-13. Obviously not with too many details, but I can tune those down while painting a picture for people. What audience am I writing for? How many people are there? How old are they? Do we want them to despise the male gender? Do I have to share about exBest Friend's crap? How long or short is it supposed to be ???!!!??? I NEED A RUBRIC AND SPECIFICATIONS!!!
I'm working on it folks. Stay tuned.
Saturday, February 17, 2018
Low Pressure System = Raining Babies
I went to a hot springs resort for a few days with my mom and brother about 2 weeks ago. Everything at work was fine before work, but when I started back with labor and delivery... the unit broke. We had so many emergency situations, babies that were not at all tolerating labor, and excessive amounts of blood. Of the last 8 days, I worked 7 and most of those were spent with me stressing over the moms and babies around me. I don't know what happened!!!
We had a low pressure system/pretty bad snowstorm role in and had 6 deliveries in one night and 3 as soon as shift change was complete in the morning. An emergency c section nearly every night and sometimes 2. We had several OB hemorrhages and even bleeding moms come back into the hospital from being at home.
This was my week and I'm so glad it is starting to simmer down for the patients. Now we just have to deal with our staff being sick and recovering from this ridiculous flu that has taken over everybody.
Meanwhile, I've felt so much lighter in my person struggles with sexual assault and trauma, plus the bullshit exBest Friend pulled.
I texted him, because he had been on my heart for awhile, but that ended quickly. He started making jokes about "doing it again" and saying it was a "fun night". Utter betrayal. I guess I was hoping for understanding, for support, for anything of what I though he had been. I needed the guy that drove me to the police station and waited in the lobby for 5 hours. I needed the friend that fought so hard to make me feel better and helped me to study when freshman year of college was getting to be too much.
I don't understand how I held out for his friendship for so long. I've struggled for so long with the way that he's treated me, and others, and his philosophies of life. He was never abusive or mean, but he definitely expected others to take care of him, even though he's a grown ass adult. He's one of those people for other people having millions of dollars, and he wants to live the rich life, but he's not about to go work a different job where he can work up the ladder. Nor would he want to work anything more than his max of 8-4 or 9-5, but let's be real here, he gets out a few hours early every day because he's salary. Then he expected me to make time, out of working 2 night shift jobs with shifts of 12 hours (so essentially, he wanted me to sleep a mere 4 hours a day for 6-7 days of the week). Plus, I was supposed to pay for me and/or him, when we went out places.
Moral of the story, it's been rough because I miss what life used to be, but I must have been delusional about what kind of friendship we had. Think about it, he only hung out with me because he wanted to date me. It's impressive to keep that crap going for over 5 years, but it helped that the crush took a little while to develop in college, and in nursing school, I didn't see him much. Then he had a long term girlfriend. So, what was our friendship anyway?
Lately, between my support group, personal counseling, bible study, and various other places, it seems as though I need to share my story. I'm trying to be articulate about what has happened, but more than the trauma, I was to articulate what G-d has done to get me through. I feel like I've come further in my healing in the past couple of weeks, after weeks of hardcore, constant wrestling with G-d. The yelling at Him; crying, scratch that, sobbing so hard that I couldn't breathe; and otherwise wracking my brain and demanding He tell me why things happened to me the way that they did. Begging Him for peace and comfort and help. I'm still working on some stuff, and He's still showing me things and working on me too. It'll take the rest of my life, but for the first time since Country Boy died (in March 2014), I feel like I can breathe. I feel like I am now being challenged to know and be able to explain why I have the hope and faith in G-d that I do, despite what's happened.
We had a low pressure system/pretty bad snowstorm role in and had 6 deliveries in one night and 3 as soon as shift change was complete in the morning. An emergency c section nearly every night and sometimes 2. We had several OB hemorrhages and even bleeding moms come back into the hospital from being at home.
This was my week and I'm so glad it is starting to simmer down for the patients. Now we just have to deal with our staff being sick and recovering from this ridiculous flu that has taken over everybody.
Meanwhile, I've felt so much lighter in my person struggles with sexual assault and trauma, plus the bullshit exBest Friend pulled.
I texted him, because he had been on my heart for awhile, but that ended quickly. He started making jokes about "doing it again" and saying it was a "fun night". Utter betrayal. I guess I was hoping for understanding, for support, for anything of what I though he had been. I needed the guy that drove me to the police station and waited in the lobby for 5 hours. I needed the friend that fought so hard to make me feel better and helped me to study when freshman year of college was getting to be too much.
I don't understand how I held out for his friendship for so long. I've struggled for so long with the way that he's treated me, and others, and his philosophies of life. He was never abusive or mean, but he definitely expected others to take care of him, even though he's a grown ass adult. He's one of those people for other people having millions of dollars, and he wants to live the rich life, but he's not about to go work a different job where he can work up the ladder. Nor would he want to work anything more than his max of 8-4 or 9-5, but let's be real here, he gets out a few hours early every day because he's salary. Then he expected me to make time, out of working 2 night shift jobs with shifts of 12 hours (so essentially, he wanted me to sleep a mere 4 hours a day for 6-7 days of the week). Plus, I was supposed to pay for me and/or him, when we went out places.
Moral of the story, it's been rough because I miss what life used to be, but I must have been delusional about what kind of friendship we had. Think about it, he only hung out with me because he wanted to date me. It's impressive to keep that crap going for over 5 years, but it helped that the crush took a little while to develop in college, and in nursing school, I didn't see him much. Then he had a long term girlfriend. So, what was our friendship anyway?
Lately, between my support group, personal counseling, bible study, and various other places, it seems as though I need to share my story. I'm trying to be articulate about what has happened, but more than the trauma, I was to articulate what G-d has done to get me through. I feel like I've come further in my healing in the past couple of weeks, after weeks of hardcore, constant wrestling with G-d. The yelling at Him; crying, scratch that, sobbing so hard that I couldn't breathe; and otherwise wracking my brain and demanding He tell me why things happened to me the way that they did. Begging Him for peace and comfort and help. I'm still working on some stuff, and He's still showing me things and working on me too. It'll take the rest of my life, but for the first time since Country Boy died (in March 2014), I feel like I can breathe. I feel like I am now being challenged to know and be able to explain why I have the hope and faith in G-d that I do, despite what's happened.
Wednesday, February 7, 2018
Open Letter to Best Friend
Dear Best Friend,
I recently texted you after 3 months of not talking (my decision). The text was a looooooong apology. I apologized for mixed signals, not sticking to my boundaries, for not being a good friend when you've been so supportive in the past. I told you I have missed you and I have missed having my "best friend" around in a time of great need. The apologies were many, and long, and heartfelt.
What did you text back? You told me you didn't know what to say but that you've missed me too. Then, you gave me a rundown of your last 3 months of life.
I can appreciate that. I can understand wanting to move on and pretend like nothing happened. I get it, I'm not dumb. Plus, I know how guys work and how your brain works because I've studied guys and I know you. I've been around you and talking with you about the deep things of life for 5+ years. I figured you out. You tell me that all the time.
You then proceeded to make jokes and say "we should do it again" and referred to it as "a night of fun". That's when I went from disappointed that you didn't feel the need to acknowledge my pain from the apologies, to beyond angry and my blood went boiling. You had the nerve to shove it in my face that something that has caused me so much pain did, in fact, happen. And then you're going to minimize it and make me feel cheap by calling it a "night of fun" and say that we should "do it again" since we probably won't have a friendship the way we had before.
Fuck you.
I cried in your car. I have explained to you how much this hurt me. I have told you that I don't remember a cursed thing about that night and that I was upset with the decisions you made against my wished and my plans. And you want to make jokes at my expense and expect me to not be upset?!? No. No. No. No. NO.
I don't know why I feel the need to apologize over and over. I don't understand it myself. Probably some disfunction that I also feel the need to compulsively apologize for.
When you begin texting me, like nothing has changed, and I come up with the idea that we stop talking again, don't be surprised. Don't be upset, don't expect anything less. There's a good chance I'm just going to block you again without saying anything. I've tried the friends thing. I've tried to move on, and you make jokes at my expense. You ignored my boundaries. You continued to push me after I was already crying, hyperventilating, and freaking out. It was enough to even freak you out. You took advantage of someone who you knew was already hurting and who had been very clear. You broke my very fragile trust and then decided that I am not worth the dirt on your shoes. I mean nothing to you. I can take the hint.
Foolish me believed that you had my best interest in mind. I was dumb enough to believe that I could forgive and move past and that you would be sensitive to my hurting that I fucking spelled out for you.
Man alive, I'm such an idiot sometimes.
I hope you have a nice life.
Signed,
A girl trying to allow G-d to make Beauty from these Ashes
I recently texted you after 3 months of not talking (my decision). The text was a looooooong apology. I apologized for mixed signals, not sticking to my boundaries, for not being a good friend when you've been so supportive in the past. I told you I have missed you and I have missed having my "best friend" around in a time of great need. The apologies were many, and long, and heartfelt.
What did you text back? You told me you didn't know what to say but that you've missed me too. Then, you gave me a rundown of your last 3 months of life.
I can appreciate that. I can understand wanting to move on and pretend like nothing happened. I get it, I'm not dumb. Plus, I know how guys work and how your brain works because I've studied guys and I know you. I've been around you and talking with you about the deep things of life for 5+ years. I figured you out. You tell me that all the time.
You then proceeded to make jokes and say "we should do it again" and referred to it as "a night of fun". That's when I went from disappointed that you didn't feel the need to acknowledge my pain from the apologies, to beyond angry and my blood went boiling. You had the nerve to shove it in my face that something that has caused me so much pain did, in fact, happen. And then you're going to minimize it and make me feel cheap by calling it a "night of fun" and say that we should "do it again" since we probably won't have a friendship the way we had before.
Fuck you.
I cried in your car. I have explained to you how much this hurt me. I have told you that I don't remember a cursed thing about that night and that I was upset with the decisions you made against my wished and my plans. And you want to make jokes at my expense and expect me to not be upset?!? No. No. No. No. NO.
I don't know why I feel the need to apologize over and over. I don't understand it myself. Probably some disfunction that I also feel the need to compulsively apologize for.
When you begin texting me, like nothing has changed, and I come up with the idea that we stop talking again, don't be surprised. Don't be upset, don't expect anything less. There's a good chance I'm just going to block you again without saying anything. I've tried the friends thing. I've tried to move on, and you make jokes at my expense. You ignored my boundaries. You continued to push me after I was already crying, hyperventilating, and freaking out. It was enough to even freak you out. You took advantage of someone who you knew was already hurting and who had been very clear. You broke my very fragile trust and then decided that I am not worth the dirt on your shoes. I mean nothing to you. I can take the hint.
Foolish me believed that you had my best interest in mind. I was dumb enough to believe that I could forgive and move past and that you would be sensitive to my hurting that I fucking spelled out for you.
Man alive, I'm such an idiot sometimes.
I hope you have a nice life.
Signed,
A girl trying to allow G-d to make Beauty from these Ashes
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