(no subject)

[zyzyly]

My life feels like the old part of town when the earthquake hit. It feels out of control, and I don't like it. For some reason, I think I am close to discovering some essential truth about myself--something that is going to make sense, but will require a lot of work.

I think I've created all these roles to hide behind so that I never really have to be myself. I work hard at maintaining them. That is why I am a good nurse. But it also explains why it is so hard for me to just be present to a friend or family member who is sick. I can't use the nurse role, and that leaves only me to deal with it. My first instinct when someone I care about is sick is to run. If you want to become a better nurse, you can take a class or read a book. But what do you do to be a better person?

It is the same thing with death. I wrote the other day about how I struggled to comfort my friend, but what I really wanted to do was get as far away as possible. And I hate myself for being so selfish. I called him the other night to see how he was doing and make plans to meet him for coffee in a few days. It was so hard just to call him, and I stumbled over my words. Shit. This guy just lost his wife and all I stress over whether I said the right thing or not. I clearly don't have the selfless thing down.

I wonder what the hell I'm doing. I am three years into diaconate formation, and now I wonder if it is just another role I'm trying to master--another layer of insulation between me and the world.

What do I need to do so that it is ok to just be me?

Comments

[weaktwos.livejournal.com]

Maybe you're too hard on yourself. You called your friend, and made a coffee arrangement. This is a good thing.

We're not experts at dealing with death. In a way, I would hope that we never should be. It is one of the maddening events that the living must deal with. Especially when one passes away too soon. There are no easy solutions, no fair resolution to your friend's predicament. He must only walk the long road of grief and finding away to live a life without his wife, to make new plans to adjust his goals.

And yes, that whole experience is awkward. So stammering is acceptable and likely to occur. Part of it may be that nothing makes you realize how delicate and precious life is more than the untimely passing of a loved one. We humans are strong, healthy, vibrant, yet always fragile. And seeing your friend's loss might make you think it could happen to you. Furthermore, if it hasn't yet happened to you, you feel like you cannot fully comprehend his experience.

We as people are constantly evolving. So, you may never be satisfied with yourself. That's not necessarily a bad thing. What is important is that you grow and learn.

[myasma.livejournal.com]

You are right. I am too hard on myself. It's kind of funny, because I know that I am a person of worth, and yet, sometimes I try and deny that.

I feel a lot better today, and your words helped.

thanks!

[ineedcoffee.livejournal.com]

i wish I knew how to answer that question.

Read my entry from yesterday, if you get a chance, I've had something similar on my mind lately...how I can be an attentive, comforting nurse, but how in denial and fearful I am of confronting my own loved ones when they are sick and dying, especially when my mom was ill. I run too. and I want to stop. but its a defense mechanism, and its got a hold on me. try not to be too hard on yourself, I think its only a natural reaction to the guilt and pain you feel for your friend.

Cat

[myasma.livejournal.com]

I know. I think it was reading your post yesterday that got me thinking. I wanted to say something to you that would be positive, but just ended up feeling bad myself.

I know, in the nursing realm, what we do is good; and that we make a difference when we are there when someone dies. I often reflect that the times in my career I have most felt like a nurse was not when I was doing something technical, but when I was simply present for patients and their families. We do that better than anyone else.

Maybe we expect too much of ourselves in our personal lives. I wanted to do more for my friend, but really, there wasn't anything else to do. I think it is difficult for nurses, because we are conditioned to try and ease pain, but there is some pain that just can't be eased, and just needs to be experienced. We can be companions on the journey.

thanks for writing!

mike

[vereorc.livejournal.com]

I feel like I'm digging somehow, by reading this far back in your LJ, but I was reading what you wrote this day, and even though the specifics don't pertain to me at all, something in your words really struck a chord with me. I don't know why, which is something I want to examine. But then again, sometimes I wonder if I overanalyze myself.

Anyway, I wanted to thank you for sharing a piece of yourself here. And to also say that when I read what you have to say these days, you sound like a different person. I guess I mean that as a compliment, although I don't want to imply that you were somehow less or worse three years ago.

And now I will stop babbling and go back to thinking.

[myasma.livejournal.com]

Wow--I forgot all about this stuff. At first I thought it was something someone else wrote. It seems like it was another world. I guess it was.

I'm glad you found this and reminded me of it--It makes me want to go back and read a little more from back then so I can remind myself that I continue to grow.