Today I regroup...

Today I regroup….
Day 4,356 of my journey out of hell…
Most people think of spring and the equinox as a time of renewal, balance, hope, and of new beginnings, new life. I think of storms, powerful, destructive, frightening, storms. They hit every year at this time, and I am more prepared for some than for others, and some blow by with only a drizzle. . I have felt it brewing for awhile, the first winds began coming in during the last months of this winter. It appeared I had all the loose ends tied down, and was ready… it appeared. When it hit, it was worse than I thought it would be, and had I known at the time, it was only a glimpse into what was coming next, as the hurricane hit this past weekend.
The force of the gale hit me and knocked me, and I am sure everyone in the near vicinity (sorry family), off our feet for a moment. I am still reeling from it, wondering how a weathered sailor such as I, could handle the seas more along the lines of Gilligan (or more like Ginger, pa-the-tic). I hope beyond hope that the damage is covered under the family policy. Figuratively, for those can’t quite keep up with my tongue. (If that is you, don’t worry, my mouth and tongue often run too fast for me to keep up as well, so you aren’t alone.) While I have survived tougher storms, the after effect of any storm has a much larger potential for damage, however, due to the passengers who count on me to keep them safe. I am lucky to have some very supportive buoys to help weather the storm, and to help keep everyone from knowing how truly scary the storm can be. I think, however, that it shook us all to the core a bit, as I know my knees are still a bit wobbly.
But today I regroup. I thank God… (or Allah, or the Universe, or Science, whatever you shmucks who have a problem with spirituality or religion or whatever anyone chooses to believe. My Jesus wears a tuxedo T-shirt and eats lunch with Buddha. Fuck off,)… that I can still be shaken to my core, and come out the other side, to see the new life of Spring. There have been times I was not so certain I would make it, so that is why I talk about it, whether I decide to paint it in metaphor, or choose to express it in cold hard black and white… its depression. It is not easy to talk about, and I can tell you all of my blessings, of all that I am grateful for, and all of the things that truly fill me with joy and life… but when it grips you with white knuckles and does not let go while you hold on for dear life, (literally, at times in the past, again for those of you still trying to figure out the first slip of the tongue,) I can’t explain to you what happens to those things, except that sometimes they fade from your memory like temporary amnesia, or a really good dream you can’t quite remember… you know what happened but you just can’t quite recall exactly what it was about.
So to be able to be shaken to my core, while frightening, is also liberating. On the other side of the storm, while rather embarrassing because you know when the storm hits you never have your hair done and are wandering around in your nightie like you are doing the walk of shame, I also get to remember that I am strong. That I don’t have to go down with the vessel, that I am not going to break because I am not made of glass. That because I have weathered this, that I can help others weather it too. Today someone told me, it would be cool to be a nurse, to do what you do, to help change someone’s life, or even someone’s day. All I did was talk to them. I didn’t give them a shot of morphine, or even a band-aid. I gave them my time, my ear, my empathy (not sympathy) and I helped give them tools to help them guide themselves through their storm. What I have learned… in school and by sailing through my own storms, allows me to use my experience to offer some light in the dark, in times of depression, or just in times of uncertainty. There isn’t a dollar amount in the world to be placed on the feeling of honor to be recognized with a statement such as that.
It is an honor to be a nurse, one with her own scars, one who can help others heal theirs, both internal and external. It is an honor to be let into lives, to be trusted to see into the core of another human being who was, sometimes moments before, a stranger. I have seen into the hearts of people, both literally and figuratively. It is a privilege to be let into an operating room to see someone have a bypass, and them to trust you with their dignity not being sure whether they will live or die. It is just as big of an honor to have someone let me into their home, and into the lives of their family, and to entrust me to be benevolent, and to bare their soul in hopes that I can at least provide some insight, or some guidance, and (sometimes to my surprise as well), I have always been able to come through for them somehow. Some days that is only being a hand to hold with silent lips, but some days, that is all someone needs.
It is not easy, depression, but I will not be its victim. It will not take me down without a fight, and I am not done fighting. I am not done with the privilege and honor of raising two beautiful children, of trying to be a good daughter and sister, and I am not done being a nurse, who is everything from the fly on the wall listening and observing, to the person who may one day literally be holding your body together. So I am thankful for the opportunity to be shaken to my core, because for some I have been the only solid thing to hold onto in a moment where the world was collapsing around them, because I have been on both sides of the storm, and there would be no beauty without both sides.