It is hard for me to protect what's inside. The emotions, confusions and rigors of patient care break through the barrier that shields me and internal chaos ensues. I become this person who cannot make good decisions for my own well-being and am easily swayed by guilt. I get angry with myself.
Luckily my husband talked me through it yesterday.
This week has been particularly grueling and I've allowed myself to get swept up in the maelstrom of patient panic attacks, poo, paranoia, psychosis, dementia, deafness, dying, dissatisfaction, deadbeat caregivers and more all while trying to maintain a reasonable schedule and make a difference. It is the juggling act of my life. It is incredibly fulfilling when I remember I'm capable of doing it well and move forward instead of second guessing myself every step of the way.
Yesterday I took a time out. It was my only option. I'd hit a wall and despite there being no more left to do I still felt guilty. I knew I had to make another choice. There was nothing else left but to run.
It was the right decision. I started slow. I promised myself I wouldn't push too hard, that I'd be nice to myself and not expect too much, that life had already thrust more on me than I could handle. As my legs hit their stride and my breathing became easy, I felt what had been missing all week, the overused cliche, the one people usually use to justify overspending: I was finally taking care of me.
Today I woke up feeling much better, renewed. It should be Monday but I'm thrilled that this is how I'll enter into the weekend, energized, rather than withered, twisted and worn out by the week. And I have this to mull over from Twitter at 5:30 a.m.:
We need to understand how destructive emotions affect us and constructive emotions can help us, so that we can maintain our peace of mind. ~Dalai Lama
Happy weekend everyone.