It takes a hit to find out you're bulletproof.
I loved this song Crossfire before I even truly understood what it meant on a deeper level.
I found out what it meant a couple weeks ago.
It felt like my whole world crumbled around my feet.
I went in for my one year meeting with my job and was expecting a, "this is where you can do better in the next year, great job!". Instead I got a letter and a, "we decided to go in a different direction and not renew your contract."
I was dumbfounded. Speechless. I felt like my whole body was on fire. I held back the tears, asked a few questions, then thanked them for a great year and went on my way.
As soon as I made it to my car, I shattered. Into a million tiny pieces.
SHATTERED.
I loved my job. More than I loved most things in the world. It gave me a sense of purpose and my patients loved me. I felt like I lost all of them and my sense of purpose all in the same 5 seconds.
Instead of crying the whole way to my office, I called a prison that I had gotten an offer from when I got the offer from my job last year. They said they were very interested in me coming there to work, and could move some people around to make a spot for me there.
I then went to my office and cleaned it out. Every picture that a patient had ever made me. A drawing of a ring from one of my group home patients. A picture colored by one of my patient's 2-year-olds. Paintings from various patients and friends. A picture drawn by a coworker. A poem written by a patient that I framed. All of my books off the shelves. Books about serial killers, psychopaths, educational books, and books from patients. I gathered Bonnie and Clyde (my 2 plants) and the rest of my decor and crap. I had a lot of stuff in one tiny office.
I ate lunch with my nurse and medical assistant, who had became my friends over the last year. We hugged and cried and then cried some more. We loaded my stuff up in my car. Then, it was over. I no longer had a job. I had no purpose.
Yeah, I know what you're all thinking.
You are a mom; you have purpose.
It didn't feel like it. I finished up some work over the next day or so and then logged out of the computer system for the last time.
Then more days passed.
I spent time with my children. I took them for walks, to play at the park, rides in their cars, read them books, watched movies, did crafts and homework with Primrose.
I spent time by myself; coloring, relaxing, napping, writing, taking a bath, reading. I forgot what it was like to be alone in the quiet (it is never quite unless we are sleeping).
I was afraid of the quiet, because in the past that was where the darkness lived. But now, I learned that it is also where the light gets in; seeping through the cracks and warming my face.
All I needed was the last thing I wanted; to sit alone in a room.
I could breathe.
I haven't had time to do that in a long time. I have smiled and laughed more in the last week than I have in years.
I spent so much time tightening my grip on my job, my patients and work to be done that I lost a grip on the reality of the wonderful life I had going on around me. Once I let go (even if it was by force partially), I was able to be free to enjoy my life more.
Did it hurt? Hell yes.
Did it make me stronger? Hell yes.
Lesson:
Take a step back and look at your life. Is it going on around you, or are you living it and enjoying it?
If you're not, evaluate why you aren't able to enjoy it and live freely and happily.
Is it a toxic person holding you back?
Is it your job/career?
Do you make enough time for the people who matter most?
Next step: CHANGE.
Whatever is holding you back; let it go. Whatever is blocking the sunshine from getting it; move it or lose it. Choose happiness.
Move on.
Check out Crossfire [Explicit] by Otherwise on Amazon Music