Clarity

Aleathia says:

This has been a very interesting time in my life. I am back to school working towards my Master's Degree in Nursing and I applied for the Supervisor position at work. I bought a new car and my once un-involved teenager is now active with after school programs.

All of this has come on the back of my friend and manager leaving our unit, the loss of family and friends, and an intermittently failing thyroid. There is a lot going on to say the least.

The thyroid problem has thrown a monkey wrench in to most of the happenings in my day. It makes me exhausted and lends a lack of ambition to life that can be upsetting. In this whirlwind of things going on, I decided that I was "bored" of my current tenure in the ER of 10 years and that I needed a change. So I applied for college in hopes of moving up the ladder starting with the Assistant Director of Nursing position. It all seemed well and good. I was excited about it.  And then, I wasn't.

I have been fortunate enough to have been afforded my job as a nurse straight out of school due to an internship and scholarship program, so effectively, I never had to fill out a resume or apply or interview for a job. I was expected to work my scholarship off as an employee. When I moved to the ER, I put my union bid in and down I went.  Again, no resume, no interview. In the last few weeks I found myself making a resume (stressful) and studying for an interview, yes, studying (even more stressful) while trying to be a mom, a girlfriend, a good employee, and a student.

Last week at the awards dinner for the hospital, I realized something.  I realized that I was right where I wanted to be sitting across the table from people who have been my family and my team for over 10 years. I didn't want to be at the leadership table. I wanted to be laughing and cracking inappropriate jokes and having a great time. I don't doubt that I would make a good supervisor. I know I can do it, but I had not stopped to ask myself if that was what I really wanted.

One of the supervisors on the evening shift was coaching me about the interview (before I had changed my mind) and she said they would ask where I saw myself in 5 years? I cannot lie.  I don't want to climb the big nursing ladder in the sky and sit in meetings and be a fake version of myself because I was leadership. I want to be me. It has taken me a long time to find out who that is and frankly, I am still learning. When I get my Master's I am thinking that maybe I would like to teach and help new nurses bridge the scary gap between theory and practice and to help them develop the confidence to recognize their abilities to thinking critically and make a difference in the world.  In the end, I want to make a difference. I want my legacy to be something more fulfilling than being good at organization and time management. I want to be remembered as someone who touched another's life and helped them find direction.

These changes were not fly by night. I have been thinking and stressing and thinking more about them for weeks. I have been meditating on it. I have been doing yoga and calming down enough to see beyond the fleeting joy of praise and the initial excitement of a new position that wears off as fast as scratching a losing lottery ticket. At this time in my life, after all the losses I have had, there is still much personal healing to be done. I want to get my education without having another added stress to the pile. I want to have more flexibility for my family and for myself.

Today, I called Human Resources and removed my bid for the job. I can't tell you how light and fantastic a feeling it was. I am blessed to have had these moments of clarity and be able to be brave enough to know when to make the right decisions for myself and not decisions other people want me to make. I love my night nurses and my team. They truly are a second family and they make me a better person every day. I'm just not ready to quit them yet.

Aleathia

Taco Meat by Michael D. Goscinski

Aleathia says:

If you don't already know, I am in a relationship with an amazing guy and a wonderful writer. Writing brought us together and the love of the world has kept us moving forward. Michael D. Goscinski has recently started putting his work out there again and has a new blog called Taco Meat.

We have always had very different perspectives on writing both in content and process. In the last few years we have both lost some significant people in our lives which caused our writing to feel lost to us. This year Michael found his voice again and has been writing incredible, imaginative stories and poetry. I personally felt a bit jealous and stunted, but his enthusiasm for the written word sparked something in me and I have started writing again. It feels strange and different, but it is happening.

I would like you to go on his journey with him through his blog Taco Meat where he posts work from time to time, spotlights things he likes, and displays his unique photographs.

Thanks for reading!

Aleathia

The Marking of Years

Aleathia says:

From the alley it's clear
that summer is fading.

Tomatoes hang heavy and over ripe,
neglected on the vine from gardeners
giving up on their bounty.

Pools sit half empty, collecting leaves
and late flowers,
some have deflated
and look forlorn without tiny bodies
in colorful suits splashing about.

The temperature is better for walking,
the sun still warming the skin
between clouds and high country winds.

The night whispers a chill
and sweatshirts find their way
onto arms and in backpacks.

It is the time for all things to settle in,
to take stock of their future
and smile on the past.

We are winding down,
we are becoming silent and fragile.
Our years marked with another season.

Aleathia Drehmer 2016

A Soup of Patience, a poem

Aleathia says:

I forego walking today,
my heart too heavy,
mind too full to push
this body forward.
It has forgotten everything
it knows about the laws of inertia.

In a silent house
I cook soup from my heritage
hoping it will bring my father's patience
to the surface and push back
the haunting whispers of my mother
saying “I told you so”.

The smell of onions fills the kitchen
and the warm sun falls on my back
as I lean against the sink.
The sky is blue and clear
and I am jealous of how easy
it seems to let go of its worries.
I have never been good at that.

But I will try again,
grow stronger and wiser,
to settle my mind.

To live in real time
with all its suffering and joy.
I can do this.
We can do this.
One moment at a time

Aleathia Drehmer 2016

Painted Glass and the Meaning of Life, a poem

Aleathia says:

We walked to the museum in perfect weather.
It felt like an eternity since we had shared
something simple but important.

5 years looming on the horizon
and I’ve forgotten who I was before you arrived.

I contemplate the significance of this
in the grand scheme of life.

Have I lost myself?
Have we grown too comfortable?
What does that even mean?
But I say nothing.
Live in this moment, I tell myself.

We look at sculptures in the white, stark wing
and comment on pieces we love revisiting,
take note of new specimens.

The painted, hazy glass catches my attention.

I am alone in front of it, my body a blur in the center.
I feel lost in the world. You come and stand beside me,
the blur gets larger and changes shape.

It is something new. The piece is new, we are new.
I take our picture, a portrait, I say. You half smile
and say nothing.

I am home.
I am where I am supposed to be.

Aleathia Drehmer 2016

Secrets, a poem

Aleathia says:

I rise to early to another headache,
day three and counting.

My body is no longer willing to keep
its bulk nestled warmly between the sheets.

I lace up my sneakers and step out to the brick steps,
the air is crisp, spiderwebs hold dew and empty lifeless carcasses,
the birds sing a morning song I've not listened to in ages.

I walk. It is what I do these days secretly hoping
to shed this extra body I've collected over the years
of emotional hibernation knowing it is as much a fantasy
as the end of this headache.

The sky is pink with clouds
threading a needle back through pillows of orange.

I had forgotten these moments existed.
I had forgotten my love of solitude amongst the chaos.
I had forgotten what it was like to live.

Aleathia Drehmer 2016

UFO, a poem

Aleathia says:

The late summer dusk
settles in around me,
light fading more rapidly
than I'd hoped
walking the trail alone.

Bats fly low over my head
as if they are the hands
of an invisible marionettist.

A song plays through the headphones
reminding me of another time and place,
so distant and unreal.

I'm distracted by the smell
of wood burning
and the fire inside my hip.

I am back to living this moment
before it disappears.

Aleathia Drehmer 2016