At the ass-crack of dawn, I awake very suddenly with burning eyes wide-open, an aching body, and a jolted heart. It's 4am. Today will be another 15-hour day, chock-full of surprises. But I have my morning routine down. With my perfectly starchy-crisp battlefield regalia covering me from head to toe, hair up in a tight spiral and sprayed stiff in place, and a little rouge on the cheeks for color, I am ready for combat. Out the door, and it's pitch blackness. Who is up? Seems no one else is but me and the hard-knocked, stray cat of the complex. I think I am alone in solitude, in darkness, until I hit traffic. Downtown is a bitch... Even at 5am. And nothing can compare to the mind-numbing, snail pace. Who is up and commuting this early? I guess everyone else like me, countless lonely souls on the daily grind. 36 miles down. Red, flashing lights glaring across the windshield. I feel the tension of the day building. I pull up to the Starbucks across the street from the hospital. For someone who was once so anti-coffee chain, I am very loyal. I am a regular, and I have my regular... tall chai and perfect oatmeal. I sit. I eat. I attempt to decompress. A very conspicuous vision in white and not in a floating, ethereal sort of way. More like in an insane-asylum employee, in-charge of strapping you down, paradoxically BDSM sort of way.

At the hospital, we have a pretty dreadful morning conference before we go out on the unit. CHAAARGE, my pretties!!! Blood and all sorts of bodily fluids fly every-which way. I manage to stay spotless until lunch when I turn into Cookie Monster, only not limiting myself to cookies. Gobbling up practically anything but fecal matter (as far as I know). No, that's not poo on my shirt, that's chocolate! I think. Then, when I get back from my hour break, I zip along room to room and timidly do my thing.

Lately, in addition to other duties, I have been doing quite a bit of hand-holding (with frequent hand-washing in between to prevent nosocomial infections and other nasties, of course). I'm sure that task can be delegated, but I think I'd rather do it myself. Anyway, no one else seems to have the time with all the running-around. It wasn't something that I automatically initiated with much reflection. It sort of just started happening. I mean, when someone is literally reaching out, what else can you do? I take their hand, and for a little while, we sit there speechless. And then, when it's time to go, I say my goodbyes and my see-you-laters. Yesterday, after I bid adieu to one pleasant elderly woman, she asked, "So, what are you gonna do now? Help people?" I said yes but not without hesitation. But I guess that's what it is. That's what I do.

i'm not gonna list what's really bothering me... not on paper, nor in a blog, but i'm sure they're etched somewhere far more permanent. most of the time, i don't want to write anything down. i don't want to document the facts. i feel like writing, for me, is a process of telling truths, and i am not quite up to being honest. some days i wonder if this is what makes adulthood official - the automatic swallowing up of sadness and frustration... the putting away of "childish things"... of things unsaid... of things undone... of broken hearts and gutted relationships... of dashed dreams and unfulfilled passions. i wonder if happiness is pretending to be happy and convincing yourself that you are not "damaged" at all by the past and the present...

edit: you are a phoenix perpetually rising above the things that hurt.

i was initially gonna call this post "quitting" but decided against it. i reconsidered because i figured i was bordering dangerously close to raising up the figurative white flag. AND i am not (rather, should not be) giving up so easily. i am starting to wonder whether it's time to forgo the white-knuckling, the grinning and bearing, and the fighting my way through life attitude. maybe it's time to just drift along with the natural ebb and flow of existence. that's not really quitting right? it's more like taking a friggin chill-pill.

it's funny how uncertainty and lack of confidence has added another "issue" to my myriad of issues. control. geez. i have (a) control issue/s. and sadly, i fumble and bumble to reign in the impossible. god. if only i could let things go and be done with it. sometimes whether you try or don't try, you get the same outcome... and heart-wrenching disappointment follows when failure results from back-breaking effort.

maybe i can be reformed in my way of thinking. then again, maybe not.