Where Do You Go

Where do you go with your broken heart in tow?
What do you do with the left over you?
And how do you know, when to let go?
Where does the good go? Where does the good go?

Read more: Tegan And Sara - Where Does The Good Go? Lyrics | MetroLyrics 

My fellow Greys fan will recognize this song as the one form the first season of Greys and the song Christina and Meredith danced their final "dance party" good bye from this year's season finale.

These lyrics describe how I feel recently.

Today McHub and I cleaned out the formal living room and I came across lots of old pictures and school projects (both mine from nursing school and the boys from elementary-high school).

Of course I started crying.

McHub looked at me with his eyes saying "You are so fucking crazy lately!"

I know.  I am fucking crazy lately.

Damn you menopause!

(Also damn you blogger formatting tool which will not allow me to align left!  Sorry if this is bizarre with the center format.)

I was crying over what had been, what is, and what could have never been.  Losing a child, even 18 years ago, can still come up and gut punch you when you least expect it.

Where do you go with these emotions?

How do you let go?

How do you come to terms with adult children who do not want you in their lives?

How many times before my heart stops breaking?

I am so bad at this.

I am so tired of my own tears.

I just cannot detach myself enough.  I cannot pretend I don't have children.

I also cannot adequately explain how I feel without sounding pathetic.

I wish I didn't feel so much.

I wish I didn't think so much.

Overthinking is a quality I would love to divest myself of, but it just doesn't work that way.  After all, I've been overthinking since 1962.

The progress or the positive part of today is my living room looks amazing and we dumped a truck full of junk, old clothes, the majority of my nursing school notes that I haven't looked at in 5 years, old algebra tests (mine), and other miscelaneous paperwork that had been piled up on the desk or buried in boxes.

I am slowly climbing out of my pack rat phase, weekend by weekend.

The New Job

Every time I think I have a handle on this job a new responsibility comes to light.

I was feeling as if I could start doing more than the basics of the job because I had the basics down.

NOPE.

New basics keep popping up.

I have a pretty detailed job description but I was not trained so it a trial and error process.

I took the initiative to call the company that created the computer program we utilize for our electronic medical records, for tracking all changes in condition, changes in medication, and communicating with my care staff in a written form.  Our pharmacy is interfaced with this system and is supposedly keeping up to date with medication changes.

Not so much with the pharmacy.

I then had to train my staff and my ED(who's even newer to his job than me) how to send messages, where to look for the flags that new messages are in place that need to be read and signed off, and where to place information on a daily log to inform all care staff of changes.

My care staff is not completely fluent in English or EMRs so I've retrained several times.

My ED is not even signing in let alone checking for messages.  I will be retraining him on Monday though he doesn't know that yet.

In nursing it is wise to expect the unexpected.

But dang, it messes up my schedule ad my attempts to expand my role in direct contact with my residents.

I've learned immense amounts of information in the past 2 months.

I learn more every day.

I have faith I will feel in charge at some point.

Sigh.

Just not today.

Onward.

The good news:  I now know each resident by name and sight.  They know me.  We're getting there.

DYJHIW Menopause Version

Don't you just hate it when...?

DYJHIW... your spouse watching Mecum Auto Auctions sends you into a rage and tears at the same time?

DYJHIW...the very idea of working today also sends you into a rage and tears at the same time?

DYJHIW...the hormones make you irritated at the very dog you adore?  The unconditionally loving dog who wiggles in joy every time you walk in the door?

DYJHIW...you cannot sleep which potentiates the irrational rage?

DYJHIW...you resent every male on earth because you realize they will never have to suffer through menopause?

DYJHIW...commercials, tv shows, people on the street have babies, are pregnant, or can still get pregnant send you into a rage and tears at the same time?

DYJHIW...your ability to tolerate stupidity vanishes and you wish every stupid person would beam up to MARS so you could avoid dealing with them daily?

DYJHIW...you know you sound crazy, insanely stupid and you just cannot stop yourself?

DYJHIW...you are a cliche and know it?

DYJHIW...you cannot find your sense of humor?

DYJHIW...you totally know you're acting all douchey, know it, and still cannot stop?

DYJHIW...you need an intervention that includes aerosoled ativan with a chaser of progesterone, and maybe a series of smacks up the side the head?

DYJHIW...they don't make lasers for your dashboard to vaporize the drivers who cut you off, merge onto the freeway at 25 miles per hour when traffic is going 55 miles per hour, and the people who aggressively tailgate you when you're going the speed limit because there is literally a Bellevue cop behind every tree, in every hidden driveway, and in plain sight?

DYJH...being so irrational you fear being committed to Western State in a rubber room? (Hmmmm, now that I typed that out being committed sounds kinda good, I mean the thorazine and haldol may actually do me some good?)