Somehow, in the flurry of constant business that is the reality of my existence as a resident at one of the busiest children’s hospitals in southern California, I’ve lost my propensity for quietness and reflection.
Maybe a lot of my patience, too. Gone are the days where I’d spend hours sitting idle with my laptop, staring into a blank page until the words came. But oh, when the words would come I’d make sense of my thoughts and emotions and I’d make peace with myself and it was glorious and beautiful.
I miss that quietness, that time for reflection, the time to just be. I guess along the way I’ve learned to fill my time with things to do so I could feel like I was doing something with my life. Make no mistake, I love q-e-r-triple kill melting face with Lux’s laser (the one time I actually did pull that off was probably one of my happiest gaming moments ever, second to the 8v10 rated Warsong Gulch Greg & I somehow managed to carry). I love the overwhelming sense of accomplishment I get when I dare to wear in public something entirely ridiculous that I turned from a picture into reality (wearing my 90% complete Seramyu Eternal Sailormoon to Anime Expo and getting noticed and interviewed by Tristen Citrine, my costuming idol from my high school days? I thought I was gonna burst from all the feels). I enjoy singing & recording, and sometimes I even surprise myself, like the time I somehow managed to belt enough to do a decent enough rendition of Take me or Leave me from Rent. But the truth of the matter is that I spend far less time doing the things that I enjoy, and far less time reading up on my patients and doing PREP questions like I should be doing, than I spend aimlessly wandering the Internet and doing God-knows-what… waiting for life to happen? For fulfillment to find me?
I think I’ve lost my patience for stillness, for the time spent sitting here and wrestling with the words with which I form my thoughts and hopes and fears into something coherent and let it all out.
Three nights ago I came home late from my ED shift (3am, to be precise) and crawled into bed and downloaded a $2.99 eBook (A Year of Biblical Womanhood: How a Liberated Woman Found Herself Sitting on Her Roof, Covering Her Head, and Calling Her Husband “Master” by Rachel Held Evans). I took pseudoephedrine and dextromethorphan and guanfacine and read until 5am and then I slept until 11:30am and woke up and kept reading. It didn’t matter to me that I’d not really “accomplished” anything that day as I might otherwise have felt when I’d just spent my time staring at the Internet or the Worbla I’m too scared to shape because I don’t want to mess my Lux breastplate up again instead. I was still again; I was cuddled up in bed (pretty much a resident’s dream on a weekday morning), laughing and thinking and listening for God’s voice. It was good. Then my husband came through the door, home early from work. And then we frolicked in the brightness of a December afternoon as we held each other close and darling, so there you are with that look on your face. let me come to you, close as I want to be. close enough for me to hear your heart beating fast and stay there as I whisper how I love your peaceful eyes on me. did you ever know that I had mine on you?
The last time I was that free, that happy, that whole, was the time I’d come home from the worst heme-onc call of my life and slept from something like 3pm on Saturday until 11am on Sunday.
I want to reclaim that wonder, that stillness. I want to be that girl again, going through life with wide eyes and a heart full of love. I want to be, to sing my life, to weave words as I used to. This is my story, this is my song. May this year bring me the courage to be alive, the wisdom to read more (and do more PREP questions), the creativity to sing more and craft more, and the peace to be in the midst of the maelstrom that is residency and still be calm in my heart.