I used to think like this. I used to want someone to protect me, to look after me, to fight off everyone who would ever hurt me. I used to think I need someone to do all these things for me. I think this is why I liked having a lot of guy friends. I felt like I needed a protector.
I’m not saying I don’t want that now, or that I’m so fiercely independent that I don’t need anyone to help me fight my battles. Don’t get me wrong, I need all the help I can get. But I’ve realized these past few years that I actually enjoy being the oldest. I used to firmly believe that I was meant to have an older brother. My mom had a miscarriage before me, and I always thought the was supposed to be him. That would have changed our family dynamics drastically.
I wouldn’t be who I am if that had happened. (Look up: psychology of birth orders) But being the oldest has shaped me to be who I am now. And I actually love being the one my brother and my sister look up to and ask for advice. Not because it makes me feel important, but because when they do something great, I feel such pride in thinking that I helped them get there. I love being the protector. I can’t explain why or how, but I like being responsible for them. And it’s not a conscious choice either. I just find myself taking matters into my own hands and doing whatever it takes to make their lives a little better.
I now find myself being incredibly grateful that I have no older siblings, although growing up, I wanted one so bad.
And things change. People grow up. Then they realize that they have to be their own protector.
I went to Confession today. My last one was Fall 2009 so it’s been a while. The priest gave me a really weird penance.
Father: This is going to be an unusual penance. You ready?
Father: Your penance is to be more compassionate and more patient… with yourself.
Me: …That’s interesting.
He just chuckled at me. After a few more kind words he said, “Don’t be too hard on yourself. Just always remember that He’s not done with you yet.”
I love going to Confession. It’s like taking a really, really good shower.
i was told to reflect on my first day of clinicals. so here i am.
it actually went better than expected! (seriously, how many times have i said that in the past week??) admittedly, i was scared shitless and panicking and thinking i was NOT prepared at all. but all that kind of went out the window. that has been happening a lot lately. with validations, interview, assessments… i feel like throwing up right before and then once i open the door and start, i put on a smile and do my thing. once i say, “hi, my name is nella. can you state your name and date of birth?” everything is out of the window. fear, anxiety, pressure, over-thinking…. OUT. it’s like an out-of-body experience. i just…. do it. and it always turns out well. so far.
today was no different. i handled things well, i think. managed my time well. built rapport with the patient and his family. he really liked me. (he got fussy when the patient care technician and the nurse would help him up and try to feed him instead of me. haha) more importantly, i LOVED him. he was the most adorable 97 year old man. he has dementia and non-verbal but when he smiles every time he takes a yummy bite from his breakfast or lunch, i can’t help but chuckle. when they were exercising and he was participating, i was SO proud of him. he was just amazing. it’s almost the same feeling you get when you’re watching a little kid play and eat. almost. see, i never thought i’d be fond of old people. but this old man was so sweet. when i was giving him a bed bath, he randomly screamed “BALTAZAR!” because he read my name tag. and i don’t know, it felt like a baby saying his first word. i just wanted to hug him. and when he was waiting for his lunch, he kept glancing at me. i guess whenever he saw my face, he would think i looked familiar. (apparently it’s normal for old people to even forget who’s taking care of them, even if it just happened earlier that morning.) so i would wave and smile. and he would wave back. it just melted my heart every time he did that.
i didn’t expect to like clinicals so much, considering it was a nursing home and it wasn’t supposed to be exciting. but i think it meant more than getting a cool case. i had a patient whose eyes would light up every time i gave him a bite of his cupcake, or would just look at me and smile as i washed his arms, or would try to hit a beach ball during ‘exercise’ (haha) and make me so proud. i didn’t expect for this to mean this much to me.
i’m having attachment problems already. i’m going to have problems saying goodbye.
Happy hour. Yes. It deserves a post all of its own.
Very rarely in life do I find myself thinking, “Well, that went better than expected.” I mean, I don’t even expect things to go well or according to my plan, but when they are better that I have anticipated, it’s a foreign feeling.
I can list the things that I have been blessed with this past week but I might leave some stuff out. Oh hell, everyone knows I like lists anyways.
- I got the job! The coveted job. The interview went swimmingly. The nurse manage said,
“I am very impressed, and I’m not easily impressed. The job is yours if you want it.”
I was speechless. All I could think of was how all my hard work had paid off. Getting up at 7:30 am Saturday mornings to go to Clinic, working at the Health Center early mornings almost everyday, dragging myself to Children’s Hospital on Friday afternoons….. All worth it. It’s such a coveted job, and I guess sacrificing my social life for a few months was all it took.
- I did better in Patho/Pharm! I actually got a B this time! It might seem silly and mundane but I really, really worked hard for that B. I am in no way an underachiever – just a realistic person. Also, I got a B+ in Research! Assessment was ok, another B. But that’s ok. You can’t win in everything. 🙂
- Validations: I thought I did horribly, but Judy, my instructor, actually said I did great. I swear, I thought I looked frazzled and panicked and deer-in-the-headlights there. But apparently not. Same with my Standardized Patient Interview. My patient loved me! He said I seemed like a pro. Haha.
I just have to remember this.
My academic life is coming along real well. At least well enough. My career is shaping up to be good, too. Social life is not suffering, but maybe it can be better. Sleep? Sleep is good.
Omg have I finally defied the laws of physics?
Ahhh I miss the Morrisons!
Forgive and forget
The pen and paper
Couple trying to
Play kiss and make up
With your bad day spent
Down in the shower
While a good night’s
Sleep at a stranger’s
Tries to wash itself
Down the drain.
You can turn up the volume
But you’ll never find
Forgiveness in that verse
You’ll just go deaf as
You hear yourself
Forgotten in the chorus.
Born and blended
Between alcohol and youth
It tries to whitewash
Last night’s pair
Of stained skinny-jeans
Making everything out
To be all right
Not made out to be.
It’s another way to
Another way to pass
The blame like a
Blunt around your
So-called closest friends
Taking hits for forgiveness
All the while trying to
Slake your lust
With thoughts of
You’re like Jesus
Blonde and blue-eyed
You’re a fisher of men
And you’re so damn good
Haul your harpoon out to
Galilee and stab yourself
A fresh fish to eat
Then do it again
Until you’ve been forgiven
When you’ve been forgotten.
This poem was meant to be an exegesis for this Biblical verse:
Then Peter came to Jesus and asked,
“Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?”
“I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.”
My friend Chris wrote it. Amazing verse, great poem, and interesting story behind all of it. Hell hath no fury like a… broken heart…? Haha