Sitting in the white coat ceremony that afternoon, I kept pinching my leg not to fall asleep. My eyes opened and closed. They became dry from staring intently at the podium in front of me. I tapped my foot against the floor, trying every trick I could think of to not doze off.
I left the white coat ceremony in a hurry. Shedding my coat and placing it on my back seat, I donned a colorful tutu, shirt, and hairband and made the hour and a half trip in traffic to Stockbridge for a ninja turtle party. Pasting a smile on my face, I face painted and balloon twisted everyone's share of Leonardo and Michelangelo turtle faces, and then hopped back in the car and drove an hour and a half north to Cumming to do another party that Friday evening.
I'd just gotten back from Florida two days prior, then turned around at awoken at 6 to get to my first day of PT school Wednesday orientation at 8 am. I had a long stretch of 3 years ahead of me. I was excited but it seemed like a mountain I had yet to climb, and I wasn't even at the base of it yet. I was staring at it in the distance, not even knowing what I was fully in for...
I finished my second gig, stumbling out at half past 10, wiping the sleep from my eyes.
Suffering from an intense lack of sleep, I pulled my car into the side lot of the QT at the nearest exit I found, pushed the seat rest in my car back, and passed out for 2 hours, still in princess garb I'd changed into at a stoplight between parties that evening. It was almost 12 am when I awoke in the lot. I was exhausted. I somehow made it the 30 minutes south to my new home in east atlanta with the cold air blasting, windows down and music blaring.
It was only my second day of PT school orientation. The weekend was ahead of me, but I had 4 parties the next day and one on Sunday. I sighed. My first party was at 10 am in Macon, so I would have to wake up at 7 am to get ready...
School and work. Work and school. Tired, tired, tired. I have climbed that mountain for years now. I had nights where I cried from the sheer overwhelmingness of it all. Afternoons I'd come home from school and I'd fall asleep in my car the moment I turned it off, not awakening until it was dark out. I remember one afternoon during my first semester of PT school where it all felt like too much. I had too much personal stuff going on, my ex was badgering me, I couldn't handle it. I started sobbing at my locker before cadaver lab. I remember crunching it in spring, clenching my teeth, hoping I'd skin by in classes and make it through the hardest semester. Someday, this was going to be worth it, I hoped. Even if I didn't feel like I was "getting" it and I struggled more than everyone else. I could do it. I stayed up a little later at night to finish homework during the week because I didn't have the time on weekends. 5 hours of sleep was lucky for me. Rare Sundays I had off, I savoured like candy, soaking in the sun at bright, warm coffee shops, feeling normal for a second. I put myself through that, yes. Part of me likes the struggle, running a business, working. Honestly, I loved what I did - I still do. When I felt like I failed at all things physical therapy, I knew I was good at parties. At being a princess. It made me feel empowered and good about myself. Able bodied. Someday, I'd have enough experience as a therapist that doing physical therapy would be as comfortable to me as doing a party. Besides, I like to do things. I like to stay active. I have a very hard time staying still. I should in fact, be better about living in the moment instead of planning every little detail. I don't regret any of it - working and doing school. I've hated and savoured all the moments of the past 2.5/3 years. I've learned so much about myself. I've grown more confident. I've learned better communication. Better responsibility. Become a harder worker. Perhaps more importantly, I have more of a hunger to go farther, to learn more, I realize I've only reached the tip of the iceberg in what there is to know so far.
As I worked in clinic today, I had the privilege of going out into the waiting room and calling my patient back. He lept up as soon as he saw me...with a cane in his hand. A cane! He had been walking with a rolling walker the past few weeks with a horribly unsteady walk, one leg crisscrossing over the other in a pattern that was sure to cause him to fall if he wasn't careful. He looked so proud, and I was proud, too. He hand't just gained the safe ability to walk back. This was the demeanor of a man who looked confident and strong. And if I helped facilitate that a little bit, then I was blessed to have done my job. I was working with a woman somewhat less than ecstatic about being in therapy today. Her hat fell off revealing a head full of newly curled hair, which I told her I loved. She beamed at the acknowledgement, her face lighting up. "I just went out to get it done," she said. "I haven't been able to get out and get my hair done in a while, but I'm more comfortable about walking now," she said. (Sometimes it's not just about the physical therapy. People need to feel good about themselves).
There's a poem by Emily Dickinson that goes, "if I can help one bird into his nest again, I shall not live in vain."
These past few years have been hard, but they have not been in vain. I have discovered a lot of keys to staying sane, to using every moment wisely, to still finding things to love in life. Setting aside time for hobbies such as my dancing. Going on little day or weekend trips - to the mountains, or to Asheville, or Charleston - that breath of fresh air out of the city enlivens my soul and helps me breathe again. Those escape days to the mountains refreshed me and made me feel at peace and ready for the next day. And the nights I laid alone, feeling alone in a big city where I hardly knew anyone? I wrote them down in journals, and now I look back on them, at a time that now feels like it ended almost as soon as it began. You don't stay alone forever. Things fall into place. They all fell into place when I met my husband, and so much of my crazy, sometimes overwhelming life made sense. The world I'd tried very hard to learn to love alone became one I could share with a second person. The places I learned to love with the spirit of adventure on my own, simply for the sheer joy of loving them - became fond memories with the person I loved. The sadness of my past became things I chased away as we talked late into the night. And I had a helping hand to guide me through the difficulties as they still unraveled.
Wow, these past few years have been crazy. But as I'm nearing my final two weeks of clinic as a student physical therapist - man, have they been worthwhile. My life is still going to be full of struggles, but I'm here now. For a little while, I can start to breathe.
No comments:
Post a Comment