Trying to figure out if I want to call this "Stop the World" or "Keep the Faith." Of course, I know which one I should use. The obvious, upbeat title should be gracing the page and my life. As the Irish say, "Nothing's so bad, it can't be worse."
I reject self pity. I need to reflect though on how my life proceeds. What I want is not happening on so many levels. I question, "Is it my fault?"
I need to move on. I need to plug on to my goals. And mostly, I think I need to get to bed after working afternoon turn earlier. I'm not really productive when I get home. Laying in bed reading would promote rest much more than checking e-mails and Facebook.
Rest is elusive, sleep is not all that is included. Sleeping too much addles the brain as much as not sleeping enough. A morning person, like myself, feels off balance allowing dreams to fill the morning space. I crave to know what is going on when I wake. Addiction to coffee wakes me but keeps me from jumping in the shower first thing.
I want to reflect on all I have planned and what is transpiring. I'm not settled to return to writing on Country. I may have to just junk what I wrote and start again. I feel I've lost the thread I used to begin it two summers ago. I look at the present numbers and wonder at writing as a profession.
Then there is the nursing business. What a business. We eat our young and attack our old. I talked to a hospice nurse, to me, these nurses are the cream of the crop, and I kept thinking over and over, "the toughest job, you'll ever love." My friend worked the other day from seven in the morning to ten at night, with maybe two pee breaks, she couldn't remember. Yet, the rewards of this job fill her.
I'm at cross roads, (another title of a book I plan on writing in 2014). I need to work. After thirty one years of nursing, I think of choices I made for my family. I could be advanced to some nifty job or time consuming management job. I chose to stay a worker bee. I have pursued writing as a career. Did I make the right choice at the right time?
As Martha in Main Street grew to say with her faith, "No regrets." I hope to become the woman Martha was.
My heart is writing. I do it every day. Edginess plagues me if I can't write, due to time restraints. I plug along with the nursing with its wonderful perks at times. The patient having a clear moment and sensing the care I give him, tells me he loves me. I continue loving touch I give and pray for strength.
I know God is control. I long for the Macedonian call. Then I remember I'm not Paul, not sure I could live with the persecution. I wish the answer would drop out of the sky in a vision or dream. I guess that is where constant prayer and faith support the foot steps. As I try to keep strong, please forgive the tears that escape at times. I think I just made that plea to myself.