How beautifully we answer our own questions

How beautifully we answer our own questions. I know that each event in my life has been created by me, a living example of how I am managing my energy. Yes, there are others involved who seem to influence what happens, but in effect it is all my own reality.

This wonder about what I should do has been beating in the background of my mind, like a flutter of butterflies, reminding me in the quietest of moments.

The proverbial s***t hit the fan on Thursday. A colleague became really ill, not something she is prone to, so when she says she is ill you know it must be very bad. Wild horses couldn’t normally keep her away.

I did have a brief flash of ‘hmm’ but shoved it away. I agreed to be on standby for last night. I have this streak of the martyr in me, don’tcha know J. It is making itself known once again…purely in a bid to let me know which way I am heading if I make a certain choice.

Friday I went in to finish off a few things and landed up being there 5 hours instead of the intended 2.

Saturday morning I was exhausted so hubby offered to give me a massage.

As we prepared the room I could feel my body winding down in anticipation, relaxing and giving a sigh of happiness. I’ve missed this in the frantic last three weeks of settling in.

The deep connection I feel with hubby in these special moments contrasted very strongly with the manic world I’ve been living in lately.

Once again it made me question the potential of staying and forging ahead at the hospital. I know either way it will definitely not be a wrong choice, but the question that is forming is…which kinda life would I prefer.

I’ve been trying to sleep all day but my body refuses to settle down. I’ve catnapped, but it seems to be buzzing with excitement and I cannot figure out why. I am working again tonight to cover for my colleague. I am prepared to do this for her, because she has always been there for me.

It made me realise how much of a community has been formed at the unit where each of us look out for the other, everyone coming together this morning to discuss how best to move forward with our already stretched rota. None of us want her to feel guilty. So we close ranks to fill the hole that her presence has left.


Yes, every so often there is a bad patch or two of spats amongst us, but when it counts we pull together. Like living in a community would be, I suppose, each one of us with our own ideas and outlooks and yet working toward one goal.

And now I am crying as I write this. How can I leave this wonderfully close knit community that I work in…and yet I don’t feel like it fits me anymore.

It is slowly dawning on me that I am trying to fit back into a mould that no longer suits me…am I crying tears of sadness and farewell? In order to move on I need to let go and I can only do so once I’ve come to realise what it is I really want. Cutting the ties and shutting the door comes when I no longer feel the emotional tug.

Once again…the only way I can get through to me is when I am so extremely tired I have no defences.