Featured

Welcome to my blog!

Hello World!

After a lot of thought, too much thought, and not being able to decide on a specific topic, I’ve decided to make my blog about anything and everything that comes to mind.

You see, I am a dreamer.. I have been daydreaming my way through life.  I was never, and still am not, satisfied.  I believe there is so much more out there to experience that my boring, day-to-day, just doesn’t cut it.  It never has.  I’ve always felt I was missing something in life… not a relationship, but a purpose.

Don’t get me wrong, I love life and am so blessed.  I always count my blessings.  It could always be worse.  Right?  Things can always be tougher – we could be poorer, homeless, or a more serious incident like, a child being abducted, someone in your life (or yourself) could have a fatal disease.  I could go on and on with scenarios as to why we should all be thankful and always count our blessings, but I won’t.. not right now anyway.  There is always someone out there who has it worse than you.  So, I believe in being optimistic; always looking for the good or something good to come out of the bad.  There are people that are in so deep that it’s very difficult to see any positive in their situation; only you can change that.

We are all responsible for our own lives, our own happiness.  If you’re not content, you have to do something different to have something different.  I’ve been telling myself this a lot these past few years.  I have some issues that keep me from following my dreams.. I wish I could change that about myself more than anything.

My biggest problem:  Indecisiveness.

If I would have followed through on any of my plans from the get go I could be sitting pretty right now.  I would’ve had a great career and money saved.  I could own the home I’ve always wanted for my family.  I could be financially stable.  What held me up?  I could never fully decide what I want to do with my life!  I’ve been trying to figure out what exactly do I want?  I overthink everything!  I wanted too many things at once.   I could’ve went to college for one thing and went back later!  Instead, I just procrastinate and doubt myself, always afraid of making the wrong decision.  It’s debilitating.

I would’ve been a successful:

  1. Nurse (began college education twice)
  2. Cosmetologist (enrolled for and back out many times)
  3. Veterinarian (a childhood dream, however, I would like to rescue)
  4. Business woman (this I did! but, unemployed)
  5. Flight attendant (another dream – my dad worked at an airport; wanted to follow along in his footsteps.  I was very intrigued by airplanes.

That’s just the top 5.

I attempted nursing school twice.  The first time I was only 19 years old.  However, I was in a relationship where I was more concerned about being with my boyfriend and “making sure he wasn’t doing anything wrong,” than working on myself and my education.  I could kick myself a thousand times for that one, and I probably have.  How stupid can you be?  This was in 1990 and to go to school to be a nurse was half the time it takes now and I’m sure a lot easier.

Although I did take a nursing assistant course, which was only a few weeks long and was a prerequisite for the LPN program.  I’ve actually taken this course twice and tested out once again – all because I would change professions and let my registration go, then go back to nursing.

I worked as a nursing assistant for a while.  I really enjoyed taking care of the elderly.  In the beginning I was absolutely terrified.  It started while I was finishing up school and working at the nursing home completing my clinicals.  I had never done anything of the sort in my lifetime.  I was on the quiet side and I hated any attention on me.  However, I really wanted to do something with my life where I could help people.  So I did.

There was this old couple, I believe they were in their 80’s.  He looked like Santa Claus and I fell in love with him instantaneously.  Her, well, she was a different story.

I’ll call them Ellen and George.

George was able to communicate; he had a lot to say for a while.  Although he yelled a lot, he was very endearing.  He had that fine white hair with his full white beard, just like Santa Claus!  Everyone loved George.

Ellen could not communicate; she had had a stroke and lost the ability to speak.  She always had an angry, mean scowl on her face.  Her eyebrows had a very pointy arch so she looked angry even when she wasn’t.  I was deathly afraid to approach her.

One afternoon we were passing out lunch and it was part of our job to assist in feeding the residents that were not able to feed themselves.  I was told to pull up a chair next to Ellen and feed her.  She wasn’t able to use her arms and couldn’t do anything for herself.  It was quite sad.

Ellen was hesitant to let me feed her.  I’m sure it was very difficult for her, and any elderly person to have different people coming up to you and trying to shove food in your face.  I tried to see it from her point of view.  How I would like to be treated if I were in her shoes.

I began by speaking softly to her and explaining what was going on, what I was going to do, and that I was here to help.  I smiled at her often to show her I was friendly and she didn’t have to be afraid.

She began accepting spoonfuls and I could feel her relax.  This made me relax a little bit as well.  Before I knew it, she was smiling back at me.  The sweetest smile I’d ever seen!  Her eyes lit up and she was enjoying my company; and I hers.  Even though she didn’t speak, I felt we communicated.  She was also very good about letting you know if she didn’t want or didn’t like something.

When lunch was finished I was able to take her back to her room and assist in getting her ready for her afternoon nap.  She kept smiling that sweet smile of hers.  I spoke with her softly and never did anything without explaining what I was about to do first.  I think she truly appreciated that I showed her respect as a person.

I didn’t want to leave her room.  I didn’t want to do anything else.. I just wanted to spend time with her.  But I had other residents to care for so I had no choice.

Every day after that I couldn’t wait to get there so I could see Ellen and her beautiful smile!  I’d hope she would be assigned to me.  Most of the time she was; George as well.  They had their own room; separate hospital beds.  I enjoyed every minute I had with that couple.  I always said that I had adopted them as my own grandparents.  Every day that I’d walk in and Ellen would see me, I’d see her beautiful smile and her eyes lit up.

George and I had a wonderful relationship as well.  He was a sweet old man.  He could speak but it was pretty hard to understand him at times.  It didn’t matter though.. I got a kick out of him.

Ellen’s health began to decline.  As she was getting worse and worse, George was becoming very agitated.  He would try to talk to her but she didn’t respond; she would stare into space.  It was extremely hard for me to watch.  It was decided that they separate them – Ellen was dying, and George was not able to handle what was happening.  So they moved to separate rooms.

I cherished every moment I was able to spend with Ellen.  Even though she wasn’t responding or smiling at me, I just enjoyed being there with her.  Making her comfortable, spending the last moments of her life with her… I knew it was coming, I was just very unprepared the day it did.

I had a couple days off.  I couldn’t wait to see how Ellen was doing… I walked right to her room.  There her bed lay empty, perfectly made, closet empty.  It hit me like a ton of bricks.. I could barely breathe.  She was gone.  I didn’t get to say goodbye.

I walked off the floor to gather my thoughts, try to pull it together as I was just starting my shift.  I then went to check on George.

It was the saddest scene I had ever viewed.  He just laid there in his bed, no movement, no sound.  Not until he would break out into uncontrollable tears.  I tried to comfort him, it was so hard to see him so full of pain.

George was never the same.  He began to decline as well; going down the same path Ellen did just before.  It was only a few months and George passed as well.  He died of a broken heart.

I am so blessed to have been part of their lives; to be with them in the end as well.  What a gift.  I hope they know the impact they had on me.  Beautiful people, RIP.

They are one of the reasons I wanted to keep going in my nursing career.  I was sure this was my calling.  I loved helping people; especially making them feel at ease and comforted in the worst of times.  The young and the old.

Unfortunately, I never followed through… I attempted returning to nursing school five years ago.  I don’t know what it was; I felt I was in over my head and I failed.  I didn’t fail courses.. I failed myself, because I gave up.

My point – don’t procrastinate; don’t be indecisive!  If you love something GO FOR IT!  The only real failure is giving up.  Don’t let fear or uncertainty dictate what you do.  Life is uncertain!  Just go with it. 🙂

Advertisements

Discovering myself

Now in my 40’s I still ponder about what I want.  What do I want to do for the rest of my life?  What will satisfy me?  Do I want to take the time this late in life to commit to my education?  What would I even go to college for?

There are so many questions I ask myself on a daily basis. I spend more time analyzing and worrying than putting my feet forward and making something happen.  And just when I seem to make a decision about what I want to do, I find something that keeps me from committing.  I find something wrong with the schedule that interferes with my family, which is usually the case.  Some of the time, a lot of the time, I just can’t stick to one area of study.  I feel like I’ll get bored with it, or I won’t be smart enough, or just afraid I’ll hate it and want to quit.

I have gone to college, a few times.  My regret is that I didn’t go for a degree of some sort.  I’ve received about four certificates of completion.  You see, when I did finally get my ass in gear and start my college education, I was in the middle of my divorce and had three children to care for.  I had to move into a tiny apartment so I could afford to work part-time as I attended college and still be there for my kids.  They were always my #1 priority.  I wanted to get the quickest education in a demanding field so I had job security and with goals to work from home.  I needed to graduate quickly so I could get to work and build a life for my kids.

I went to school for medical transcription with secretarial courses.  I’ve always been interested in the medical field, I had worked in a transcription department previously as an assistant and I dreamed of becoming a transcriptionist.  I loved what they did.  It was perfect for me.

I began college in 2003; graduated in 2004 with a certificate of completion.  At that time of my life I was still on the quiet side.  That was one of the things about transcription that struck my interest – for the most part you just sat at your desk and typed all day.. you didn’t have to talk to hardly anyone!  I really liked that idea. I wasn’t much of a talker, I was self-conscious about everything.  I liked the idea of being left alone to do my work.

I was shy and quiet most of my life.  It wasn’t until I was in my mid to late 30’s that I developed enough confidence to really not care what anyone thinks of me.  There is nothing wrong with being shy or quiet, but for me it was very difficult for me to go through life that way.  It was more than just being shy or quiet. I found myself to be extremely anxious and was diagnosed with depression and anxiety.

This was extremely hard for me to swallow. I hate to say that I’m “prideful,” but I guess I was.  I felt that I was going to be looked down upon, like I was weak, crazy, unstable, and was terrified this would be held against me at some point in life and could affect my children – would someone say I wasn’t fit to be a mother?  Would my children be taken from me?  With these fears, I denied depression.  I came to accept and admit that I suffered anxiety, but I dealt with it.  I was prescribed medication; it did help.  A lot actually.  I probably wouldn’t have gotten through college if I hadn’t.  It was still a major struggle.  I pushed myself and pushed myself.. I had to do it, my kids needed me to be successful and I was also setting an example.

I was proud of my hard work – it paid off, for a while.  I completed college, I got a job!  The job of my dreams (for being outside of home).  I absolutely loved what I did and was happy about going to work every day.  I made more money than I ever imagined, had great benefits, worked for a huge hospital and had job security.  I was on the road to success.

Another dream bites the dust…

The major indecision’s of my life were a nursing career or a cosmetology career.  I just could not decide what I wanted to do with my life and I was making myself crazy about it.  I went back and forth trying to decide.  I loved them both and had to choose.  Right?

When I was a child I was not the typical girlie-girl, nor was I a Tom-boy.  I was a good mixture of both.  I absolutely adored my Barbie dolls – I had a massive collection with an enormous Barbie house, the corvette, pool, everything that goes with Barbie, including Ken.  I also loved playing with toy cars – I would play in the dirt or a sandbox for hours on end making roads and highways and dream of being able to drive.

My mom didn’t appreciate the fact that I would cut all of my Barbie’s hair until they had none left.  To me, I had to put my talent to use and did not see the big deal my mom was making.  Of course, I didn’t have to pay for them.  My poor mother.  She would keep buying them though, so I’d keep cutting.  They looked horrible!

Then my mom found a Barbie doll “head” where you were supposed to style the hair.  I did some of that, but I went to cutting that hair as well.  Pretty soon they were bald and I would beg for a new one.

I’m sure once I moved on to the next course my mom really wished I had stuck with the Barbie’s and doll-head to work on.  No, not me.. I had to move on to the real deal.  And who on earth would allow a 12-year-old girl to practice cutting their hair?  No one!  Yes, I volunteered to become my own victim.

Before I began I had very long, beautiful blonde hair.  It fell to the middle of my back in length.  I began cutting and attempting to give my hair “layers.”  It was the 80’s, 1983 to be exact.  I wanted to make a statement.

I had already started making statements, however.  I was also teased about it.  I bleached my hair blonde prior to this.  I loved it!  I loved standing out and being different.  However, I didn’t like people staring and teasing, so I’m not really sure why I did it.  Why did I do things that brought attention to myself when I actually hated attention on myself?

So as I cut my hair, it was getting shorter and shorter… I was getting annoyed because I just couldn’t get it “even.”  This is a downfall of perfectionism.  I just could not stop until I felt it was “even.”  By then my hair was about an inch in length total!

I could not believe I had just cut that much hair off my head.  What was I thinking?  Why didn’t I stop?  I was so angry at myself.  I stayed awake that night until I was able to style it how I liked.  I ended up liking it.  It was new, different.  No one else had their hair like it.  I curled it nicely.  However, now when I look back at pictures, it’s frightening to think I did that and other kids actually liked it too!  My best friend went wild over it and cut her hair the exact same way.  I thought she was nuts!  I thought it was okay, but mine was an accident!

From there on I have cut my own hair.  It took a lot of practice to get it down and do a good job; not taking too much off.  A lot of practice!  I’ve gone in to a salon for a haircut a few times since, but I am always disappointed and “fixing” their mistakes.  So, I stick to doing it myself.

As I got better at it my friends and family had me do their hair.  My kids won’t let anyone else do their hair besides me.  Which really gets on my nerves sometimes because I just don’t want to do it!

I didn’t go to college to become a Cosmetologist for a reason, or many reasons.  While sometimes I enjoy doing hair, make-up and even nails, it’s not often enough to where I would want to do it day in and day out for a living.  That’s how I feel about it now anyway.  Years ago, when I was much younger, it was a great love of mine.  Just the same as nursing, I was registered and all set to attend Cosmetology school on many occasions.  I always found some reason not to go through with it.  Sometimes my excuses would be the schedule, or who would watch my kids (in latter years), or I’d over analyze every detail about school and the work thereafter and would I really want to do this my entire life?  I guess the answer was no as I never went.

I’ve beat myself up about this decision on many occasions.  While I do firmly believe I would not want to have this as a life-long career, I would have enjoyed it for some time, could have gained some wonderful experience, and it would be a great side job.  I had it stuck in my brain that I had to make a decision that would stick with me the rest of my life.  How ridiculous is that?  Why didn’t someone explain to me that I could always change careers?

Life is about experiencing many different things; it’s not about a “job.”  Life should be taking risks and doing what you love at that moment.  Not worrying about the “what ifs.”  Grab that bull by the horn and do it!  That is exactly what I tell my kids.. I want them to learn from my mistakes and live life to its fullest, not worry about the future or regret the past, just live for today and do what makes you happy.

A plan is a good thing to have and to follow.  Set goals, but for God’s sake, keep them!  Don’t give up because of fear or the unknown.  If you change your mind about what you want to do, that’s okay!  Just keep pushing forward, and don’t look back.