The last months have been a roller coaster to say the least. A quick overview from November 2014 to Today:
I lost my job when the hospital I worked for (3 years) closed its doors, We celebrated 5 years of marriage and another birthday for each of us, I landed a job with a huge hospital system in Atlanta, winter holidays came and went, another semester gone and a fresh one started, my sister had skin cancer, my dad celebrated clearance of thyroid cancer cells, both parents of a friend were murdered ruthlessly and heinously, my cousin lost her battle with an infection, my beloved Tata, my great uncle, lost his life (all 4 losses occurred in one week), I left my long time part-time job at a local church nursery and began a new part time job with Hillels of Georgia at KSU, we hosted three lovely ladies from Australia and helped them begin their journey on the AT, and that brings me to today, almost five months after the beginning of all of that. I'm exhausted, and overwhelmed, and I just want a break.
Break it Down:
Emory Adventist Hospital. A strange choice of vocation for a Jewish girl, I realize. Despite the obvious contradiction, though, and the ever present cons in a work place, it was a delightful home during my three years there. The people with whom I worked were (are) some of the kindest, friendliest souls I'll ever work with. The joke was that I walked in family. Immediately, I was loud when needed, sassy, honest, friendly... (all necessary at times in an ER environment). We were, in fact, a little family. The same crew every weekend. I knew everyone. I liked everyone. It was comfortable and familiar.
And then, the tables were literally turned upside down when it was announced that our little family would be separated. Severed is probably a more accurate term. We would close our doors, and we all began searching for work wherever we could. I landed a job with my top choice employer, and found myself relieved and grateful to have the job, but not at all excited about it. I told Erik how I felt, my fears at continuing to work nights, my worries about time and emotions, our relationship; all of the things that we were continuing to put on hold by my continuing with a schedule such as the one I was endeavoring to take. He said he understood and promised to be patient and loving during the transition into my "new life" and after it when I was an emotional, sleep deprived wreck. And he mostly has been. Mostly. The schedule has changed a few times into something that in terms of working hours, is decent, though in terms of fitting in all I have to fit it, is impossible. I am starting to make friends 4 months later, but find that such a HUGE work environment is not very conducive to relationships like those I begrudgingly left behind. I am sad much of the time, trying not to wish my days away, though often I can't help doing so. I just long for the day that I graduate and can look forward to something different. A drastic change. Going into this one, I told myself and those close to me that "I can do anything for a couple of years. I just have to make it through." And that's true, unless you really aren't happy with what you're doing.
Death and sadness:
As I tried to put the pieces back together and figure out what works and what doesn't, and how to accomplish life's goals while one is too busy accomplishing life's goals, I was hit with a blow that I "never thought would happen to me." My mom posted a photo of a couple whom I'd never met, but who are the parents of a friend (a former co-worker, actually). They were "missing," and the photo was circling facebook in hopes of information on their whereabouts. I remember thinking to myself, "They're fine. Their car will be found in a ditch this afternoon overturned and stuck. They won't be able to get to help, but they'll be fine." Two days later, I received a text message while coming out of class. It was from my former charge nurse, one of the family that I begrudgingly left. It simply said "they found b's parents body." I was shocked. No! This can't be! She has kids, and siblings with kids. They'll never know their grandparents. They won't remember them -- were all my thoughts. I cried for days for two people I've never met. I cried for their family, their friends, their church, their lives. Lost. No, not lost, taken. Their lives were taken from them. The breath removed from their lungs. For the first time, I was able to comprehend how terrible murder is. A man decided that he got to choose when this couple stopped breathing. I was devastated.
As the week wore on, I went about my tasks while thinking ever day of the sweet girl I know and trying to imagine what she must be thinking. The eternity of two days later, I learned that my cousin was hospitalized due to an infection. She was terribly ill, and it didn't look good. Her mom (my dad's cousin) is very close to my family, and had a relationship with her daughter like no other. I was terrified for her. I immediately text messaged her and we began sharing a few words multiple times a day for the weeks to follow. By the end of the week, there was no improvement in her condition, and I called my dad from work to give him my number there in case anyone needed to reach me. He called me back less than thirty minutes later unable to say the words that were unnecessary. Again, I cried in disbelief, for the unfairness of the world and for the sadness and despair that I knew my "aunt" would be feeling. The breathlessness I knew was there.
The following Monday morning, I woke to Erik's gentle yet urgent shaking. He told me to wake up, he needed to talk to me. I did, alarmed because he's never awakened me this way. He scooted me over in bed and cradled me as he told me my dad had just called and Mickey was gone. He'd died the night before at home, his daughter performing CPR while his beloved wife watched terrified. I cried a little, but mostly just stared at the ceiling in disbelief. We'd spoken in December briefly when he'd told me he had a tumor and would have more information after seeing the doctors in the coming weeks. I told him I was thinking of him and that I loved him and would talk to him soon. Erik left for work, I took a shower in utter shock, feeling empty and disappointed. I called my cousin and she told me some other details which wrenched my heart and seemed to tear it out through my throat. When we hung up, I was sobbing, unable to breathe or impart any intelligible thoughts. I called Erik who was at a loss for any comforting words, and then my dad who cried with me. I went to school in an attempt to attend the same class that I'd finished when I learned one week previously that two humans had been murdered. I made it as far as a short discussion with my sister, and then the computer lab to print some items which I'd forgotten at home before I felt like I couldn't get out of the building fast enough. I went to talk to my instructors who were understanding, though I'm not sure they really understood, but they excused me from class. My boss having approved a tardy start to my shift, I cried all the way home, and finally settling enough to rest, I took a nap. I was full of sadness and regret at the things I never said, and the questions I never asked. I was amazed at the sense of loss I felt for a man I saw rarely and spoke to even less often. He was a man who was gentle, kind, more generous than anyone I'll ever meet again in my life, adoring of his family, and a fighter that only a Holocaust survivor can be. I can still hear him say my name with his thick accent and distinctive voice, and I can feel his hug and stubbly kiss like only he could give.
A Positive Among the Chaos:
Among the sadness and chaos of life in general with two jobs and school, a new position was thrown into my lap. I was granted an opportunity to work with Hillel at Kennesaw State University. I felt like it was possible that Mickey, "Tata," would have known that this was something that would be important to me. It was surely a boost that I thought I needed. Something new AND positive.
As it turns out, it is a complicated mess, but an important and necessary role which I'm glad I was offered.
Hindsight:
Today is July 8, 2015. I began this post in March and saved it because I was just too overwhelmed to finish it and proof read it before posting. It was nearly deleted recently, but I decided to finish it and post because of another article I read a few weeks back. It was written by a young lady who had contemplated suicide and shared her struggle with the blogging world in hopes of positively influencing even one person. While I can't say that I was ever suicidal, I can say that I struggle with depression. I, too, have always said that if sharing my story helped even one person, maybe it would mean the struggles were all worth it.
After an initial diagnosis and extremely difficult years to follow which included constant changing of medications, days and sometimes weeks of tears, and slapping on a brave (read: "happy") face for most everyone I knew, I chose to make some drastic changes which included moving home for the first time in four years and switching doctors. After continued struggles, I finally found my balance and for years, I've had occasional down days, but I've managed my symptoms without medication and I've done well. Until about September (a month after we were told we'd be out of a job). The down days increased steadily, and by November, I was more down than up. By the second week in February, I was tearful nearly every day. I sought help on campus to try to avoid medication (a personal choice which isn't right for everyone). I was unreasonably fearful of many things; car wrecks that didn't happen, family deaths that fortunately never came, even getting into my car; I just knew that someone was hiding under it waiting to hurt me. I was told that this was normal under the circumstances. That if it didn't subside or got worse, it would then become abnormal, but my counselor wasn't surprised or worried.
Today, after months of transitions and loss, sadness and despair, I am finally starting to find my way back to "normal" (if there is such a thing). I plan to continue to wake up when I wake up, play outside, clean the house, read a book, and spend evenings and days off with the love of my life for a short while until the overwhelming responsibilities begin again with a new semester in the fall. And then, I will graduate. I will conquer my biggest goal yet and I am more proud of myself for that than there are words! I imagine myself in a cap and gown along side my sister who will graduate with me. I imagine our excitement and pride in ourselves. And I imagine the celebration to follow. For the first time in years, I'm starting to look forward to all the things that might come after school. The travel, the new experiences, the income possibilities, and yes, maybe even a family.
I continue to work on mindfulness, which ironically enough discourages looking too far into the future in exchange for living in the now. It takes much practice and thoughts are some of the hardest things to change. But with patience (something Erik sarcastically calls my "greatest virtue") and a positive attitude, I'm learning that anything is possible. After all, "...help is available to anyone who asks."
