teetalks

I started my blog

This funny place, I don’t even know how to publish on the website. Im not even a writer, I just enjoy writing. Songs, poems, short stories, I wrote a script of a short-film thriller. Who the hell do I think I am? An idiot. Anyway thats why Im here. Put all my thoughts in one place. Maybe this is a diary, Im not talking to anyone but myself really. Or anyone who maybe can relate to my situation. I have no idea what to do with myself.

I have “hobbies” but they’re more like a task to be completed. I have an idea and I complete the idea and move on. Suuuure it’s probably “ADHD” and it is, I was 13 when I got ‘diagnosed’ (so dramatic) and learned that basically I get bored quickly. I paint and read and cook and make clay miniature things and I walk the dog and I do embroidery and I make costumes and…

Then I move on. Now Im starting this, hopefully this is what Ive been looking for. An outlet to put ideas because Im sure Ive exhausted my listener resources. If my boyfriend has to hear my dread and despair about how Im bored of every job Ive ever fucking had he’s going to buy ear plugs and nod blankly while he writes complicated video game code, luckily he found his passion and purpose. No, he’s wonderful and patient and kind and creative and my number one fan.

Everything lately seems like some weird complicated puzzle and I don’t have the box with the picture. I have a bag from a thrift store with several puzzles in a ziploc and it was free so I took it. Perhaps this really is a diary, so I can complain and bitch and moan and no one has to read it, I can just type it out. Either way, welcome!

My parents always had an idea of “what they wanted to do”. My dad wanted to work outside and be challenged every day so he went to ranger school, no ranger jobs were available so he became a land surveyor. A career that is historical, mathematical, a puzzle, mostly outside and a forever challenge. His dream come true. My dad has owned his own business for over 60 years, just him. He brought my mom, myself and some of my siblings along to help on jobs but its him and only him running the show. He wouldn’t have it any other way and is 85 years old still working because he loves what he does. My mom always wanted to work with children, she had several jobs before she figured out occupational therapy was her calling. She worked for a school district for over 25 years, retired for one year and then went back because she loved it. I am, a … ??????

Currently a nurse. And I am fucking over it. WHAT DO I DO NOW??

I was never passionate about nursing or being in/around medicine. Nursing itself as a job is not hard, it came to me naturally. I absorb information quickly and can apply it which is a nice pat on the back but feeds into my attention deficit of never ever ever being satiated. Whats difficult about nursing is policy and administration, theres a lot of red tape which hurts the efforts of strong willed stubborn people. Most nurses would complain about that too I think. Taking care of people is an honor and a gift to be able to do it well. To be with someone as they are passing away feels like watching sand pour out of your hand into the ocean. When you hold something in your hand its special and its yours. The ocean claiming it back, you can no longer see the sand in its little particles, returning to where it belongs. A peaceful and spiritual experience that really cannot be expressed, even in art.

It feels like a crime to say I don’t want to do this anymore, an unrelenting guilt. Ive been given so much admiration and validation in my time nursing but the fit isn’t right. Sure it fuels my ego but trust me I don’t need more of that. My best friend has been a nurse for several years and guided me here. She always wanted to be a nurse, so she achieved that and shes an incredible nurse, an inspiration really. She said Im smart, quick on my feet and really great at taking care of people. Nursing seemed like a question answered. I love talking to people and I love to help, so why do I feel void and empty. I feel left out of my own life, like Im not a participant in what Im doing or where Im going. Where is Theresa? Oh shes off being a nurse. Thats not right. I feel, absent? Im not sure, dissociating is a good word. Like a glass from a missing set on the back of the shelf in a cabinet of an abandoned home.

Anyway, Im still hopeful that feeling starved for creativity and writing about my life will guide me in some way, carve a path through my writing. Here we go.