Keeping Positive and Rolling With It

Life continues to be interesting. In the immortal words of my good friend, Bernie, “Life is not for the weak!”

Indeed.

I’ve found it moderately hilarious that things will go awry when you are already in somewhat of a spiral!  There is a full moon coming, and two months in 2026 have back to back Friday the 13ths (what even in the heck?!?)

But that is neither here nor there…

On top of it all, this week, Satan decided to attack my Bible streak on the You Version app and make it look like I skipped a day. The very nerve. We got that fixed, like, right away. Minor panic attack. I know it seems silly, but sometimes those silly things can really throw you (me) for a loop.

I’m in the midst of some interesting health… things, we’ll call them. One thing has led to another, then another, and all of the sudden I have four new specialists and a full-time follow-up career with appointments and consults and tests. This was the perfect time for my dad to start having some health issues as well, so I had to pause my health-interesting-journey in order to come help him with his. And of course the timing is just “perfect” (imagine the eye roll/sarcasm/deep sigh) because, well, life. 

Again, not for the weak.

My theme song, when I was an unstable, overworked, anorexic, underpaid, severely understaffed ICU nurse was “Roll With It, Baby” because- what else could you do but try to keep your patients alive and give your heart and soul to the families of the patients for twelve hours on night shift so you could go home, crash for a few hours, have nightmares about all the things you might have forgotten to do, and then return to do it again(?)…

That is kind of how this feels… Everything in the world (albeit my world) imploding, disappointing situations, hard realities, trying to heal, pain, and me giving and giving and still giving…and I’ll do it until I die… so I’ll just roll with it. There is no other way. I roll with it, and pray, and God is God, and I am not, so… just roll with it.

                                                 

And, no matter how things may play out, there will be no regrets. My dad gave his all for me. He’d do it again. He still tries to. It’s a privilege to be here for him and to be able to care for him. He is almost eighty-two years old, and time is short- I get that. I don’t want there to be any doubt that I didn’t give him my all, when he gave me his. I want to be here.

                                                  

Silver lining: while it was in the 30s and sleeting/freezing rain back home , it was in the 60s and 70s here, and the sun was shining!

                                                 

Oh, January

As per usual, January was a s**t show (don’t let that picture fool you, it’s from February). I don’t know why we can’t have a calm January, but , there we were. Last year, January started with my worst bout of covid yet, a broken foot and a tree crashing through our house (that took months to fix). This year, the drama was more emotional, but still devastating, and I was  recovering from my second back surgery in three months. It was also one of our longest, coldest, iciest January months we’ve seen in these parts for quite a while- like two weeks in the twenties!

So, in February, when my husband got to travel to a warmer environment (say, like, Ft. Lauderdale), I asked if this was a can-your-wife-tag-along trip? He checked, and the answer was yes (yay!!)!! 

Praise God! For real! In all things, yes, even the trials, which is so hard, but, wow, was I happy for a little break! And, yes, I’m a comma girl.

So, I packed up all my sad, anxious thoughts sand put them in a Drop-Dead-Fred box, and prepared to head South. 

Of course, a few days before we flew, the terrible Potomac crash happened. I’m already a nervous flier, but this amped up those feelings, in addition to the overwhelming feelings of the tragedy of it all. Then the Pennsylvania crash happened. Terrible and Sad. Then there was another crash. Anxiety. What was also so somber feeling, is that we have peripheral connections to the community of the people involved in the crashes (and recovery efforts), especially the Potomac one. Passing the area where the recovery operations were set up was sobering, and from the airport we could see the crews, with their equipment, working out on the water.

When we finally took off, I was sobbing in my seat. It wasn’t from the fear or the anxiety, though. I could actually feel the heaviness and sorrow from the site on the Potomac. Being an empath is hard. Sometimes, these overwhelming feelings surprise me. Prayers.

Landing in Ft. Lauderdale was surreal. It was around 45 degrees when we left DC, and it was sunny and 76 degrees when we landed. Making sure the Drop-Dead-Fred box was secure on the shelf, I set out to seek active relaxation (so not good at that), continued recovery (nurses are the worst patients ever), and good old reflection and rest. 

It’s a work in progress. Trying to come to grip with the reality that one of my children is suffering greatly, and she blames me, and coming to terms with not being able to fix some things, is devastatingly, overwhelmingly painful. I know that it is not all me, and I know she is casting blame, and I know God loves her more than even I do, but… It is hard to be in this space. 

Along those lines, there is something about physically being in a different location to control-alt-delete. This trip was not about living it up in sunny Florida. This trip was a pause. A take a breath. A recharge (like, literally, I solar-paneled recharge). A long talk with Jesus.

It was good.

I know it is going to get worse before it gets better, and I am so not looking forward to it. However, as always, I do have my faith. And I don’t quit.