Archive | May, 2016

funny thing, looking back…

15 May

So here I am….writing another random and completely inconsistent blog post. Maybe spring makes me just wanna just word vom.

How do I begin to explain to you how life has changed? Big things first? Minor details bore me as well as depress me so I will not divulge:

Whole of 2014, first year as a nurse: WHOA STRESS! And then life goes, hey by the way your grandpa just had a massive brain hemorrhage and is brain dead, he is dead a week later. Ok ok cool, rite of passage ey? I can continue to move into my first solo bolo apartment alone in the city, YEY! Everything is manageable….but wait your best friend has been dating and fucking an ex you were devastated after breaking up and it is a huge and terrible scandal where your good intentions are totally manipulated into thinking you are the bad guy….enter serious rage! OK OK you can get over that, throw yourself into work and blowing subsequent money, no probs y’all, we can deal!

Life is stressful for awhile due to work and lack of orientation at work so you are basically thrown into the deep end as a new nurse in an ER….but you rock that shit, bitch! You may not be employee of the year but fuck em’! Your sense of accomplishment is a rock hard phallus of a metaphor and its all gravy. You’re wheeling and dealing and getting fucked up with your best friend every weekend and you live in the hippest area of the city and shit is RAD AF!

So…..why do you feel bored? As you write that, you should’ve felt great you ungrateful little child! What were you thinking….

Next thing you know, you are trying to sow your oats with some strange down the block on a Friday night. Saturday, hungover and awkward you get a call from your sister: Dad is hemorrhaging from his trach, you need to get over here. You’ll arrive to the hospital after what can only be referred to as a fucking DEATH RACE from St. Louis to Maryville and you almost crash about three times, I mean literally almost crash. Someone is 100% monitoring my every move from beyond because I should have wrecked my shit. Well little do you know, Thanksgiving was the last time you would see him alive because during your mad dash your sister calls. Of course that isn’t good. You already know before you call her back and hear her tearful voice say they are doing CPR that your dad is dead. And then you are at peak adrenaline as you sprint into the ER waiting room fucking frantic as a mother FUCKER. You see Ruth Ann, your second mother and coincidentally the House Supe of the hospital that is three minutes from home. Three minutes from home and it still wasn’t enough time. He is a bloody mess laying dead on a stretcher as you walk in to see the most jarring image one can imagine their hero being apart of. Nurses doing half ass CPR either because A. his chest is huge or B. they knew. Enter shock. Shock as in slow motion you take in the surroundings: At least six people, probably four nurses and two doctors. You vaguely hear what the doctor is saying as there is an IV catheter sticking out of your dad’s second intercostal space (which as you learn in ACLS is an attempt to drain the BLOOD from your dad’s lungs), his trach is removed because they had to stick tubes into his man-made oriface because he is bleeding into his lungs. But thats not what sticks with you. What really seals the deal is that your father’s soul is gone from his body. He has entered the fucking void ladies and gentlemen. And you have to be the one to tell these strangers to quit hammering on his dead body. As a nurse, you know he is dead so you just tell them to stop. Mom, he’s gone. Just stop, he’s gone. Your mom, your sister and you, silence. Mortified faces staring at you as the worst seconds of your life tick by. Ian is there 45 minutes later. You are standing over his body with your hand rested on his forehead while it gets cold. Just like grandmas did four years ago and just like grandpas did only months before.

Over the next days, weeks, months, years-ish, people will call you brave. People will look at you with sympathy, people will say the wrong things, your boyfriend will leave you, your friends will have abandoned you in a time of need, not all of course but there are long stretches where you are crying alone in your apartment and thanking the universe that you have fucking soft ass toilet paper and great furniture. You will learn that grief isn’t like they portray in the movies. You will learn that your family is what you have in this life. You will grow exponentially closer to each and every one of them.

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom”

Anais Nin

And it hit you, you have to leave. Logically, if your dad whom you for realio resemble dies at 59, what bearing does that have on your life expectancy given that you have been partying and doing drugs and smoking and having a stressful ass job? Honey you need to get it together and scare yourself because this shit is not going to work. So you scare yourself. You move to Denver eight months later. And you fail. You party and you fuck and you hike and you fail at work and you fail at men because they are all too much for you and you should of just fucked and left but you were drunk of course or lonely and you involved your emotions even though you KNEW better and then you don’t really know what you are doing after you wake up with a neck full of hickies and a masssssssssssssive hangover the day after Halloween. And you find solace yet again in family in a whole different part of the country ( Sensing a theme yet?) And these boys are just clinging and clinging to any part of you they can get. And the most fucked yet unsurprising thing is that they never fucking ask about you. Oh but they say they care but they have no idea what the fuck is going on and all they want is to just see you one more time because they care about you. Bitch, you want that ASS. So I tell all of them to fuck off…except the way I do it is blanket block their asses….my terminology for removing them from your phone, blocking text/calls, Snapchat, Insta and especially Facebook. Just like they never existed because if can’t see it, it doesn’t exist! Someone should create an app for that.

So then you move to the Bay area. And you do the same thing at first LOL. But this time you have enough sense to chill out and not to let it completely fuck up your job and skate on by with good looks and personality and a semblance of knowledge, but since you work with hatin’ ass females in a position of authority they don’t like you. But now you’ve decided to stay (somewhere else of course).  The money is great, moving your life out here is WHOA stress but HEY, you’ve been down this road, sister. You’ve got this. A little patience, meditation, word vom on wordpress, and a daily affirmation of your long term goals and BAM! You got yourself a fucking mantra.

Fast forward to today: I’m inside as fuck on a beautiful Saturday waiting for my roomie to get home. He is the best thing since sliced bread. A savior of sorts, really. My gay hubs, my bromance. Single, coming around to the idea that I am deserving of the incessant male attention that I get…..maybe deserving not so much as I am objectively pretty and males do this really awkward ritual wherein they really do their best to impress me. I mean really everything from that gleam in their eye that they find you stunning to literally propositioning you to be their mistress. I mean fuck me when a single man who fits my standards actually hit on me I would freeze and ruin the whole fucking thing. But really, how fucked up is that? I am solely approached my taken men. What kind of confidence does that instill in my core belief that there is a soulmate? Fucking none. I am discovering that I am old fashioned, despite my ability to support myself financially there is still an appeal at a soul level for me to submit to a man in a relationship. Submit does not have to refer to a negative behavior but just allowing him to take the lead whenever that mandates.  A partnership shrouded in love and complete adoration that allows my man to sense when I need that. I am afraid that if I continue to establish myself alone and follow through my life goals that I will be too independent and less willing to allow someone into my life.

 

Which reminds me of something people keep telling me, ‘You should work on you for awhile.’ What does that even mean? Don’t lose yourself in a man? Too late, been there and bounced back already. But is it something people say out of resentment of their own decisions or is it something they actually mean? I see happy couples who have been together since birth and I see couples that have met later in life that are just as happy. So again, someone else’s dogma being forced down my throat because I am single and twenty something. What if I want a loving relationship and something to look forward to outside of cheap stares from men. I want a long passionate kiss from a man after work, I don’t want some piece of shit hiding behind the Tinder app or shit, Facebook asking to see my pussy. That is my boyfriend’s job.

 

*sigh* I have gotten enough off of my pierce-nippled chest for now.

TLDR: Life doesn’t get easier, you just become stronger.

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