just keep swimming.

A wise friend once told me to be careful choosing a partner in life. Make sure that person is moving through life with the same purposeful speed and motion that you are so that when you cross that finish line, you do it together. It makes sense more now than ever before. You cannot drag others behind you, hoping they will catch up if that means they are slowing your progress and potentially making you turn around to see where they are.

I have had a difficult time trying to make sense out of relationships that have ended over the past year or so. At times I question if those people thought they were spending too much energy on me, pulling me from the front to ensure my clearance of the finish line and decided enough was enough. Or, perhaps, it was simply time for us to go our separate ways and it was mutual. I do not know. Regardless of how hard I try, there is a significant hole left that still feels like a raw wound. I would like to know when that will heal.

I have been at my job for a year now. It has become clear to me that there was a significant deficiency in my education that does not have anything to do with diagnostics or treatment, but with the psychological toll dealing with critically, sometimes terminally, ill patients can take on a person. I am unsure if this is a skill that is acquired over time with experience or something that must be actively sought after and incorporated into one’s skill set. The past month has weighed heavily on me. I wear my emotions through my stomach. With certainty I can say I have an ulcer. There is also the alarming addition of intermittent migraines that need to pack their bags and hit the road because I am a monster with a headache (more than normal if you ask my friends, lol).  Playing softball has helped provide me an outlet, but something is missing still. I try not to feel as though I am constantly searching for something “else” but that sensation is present. One of my favorite metaphors comes from an author named Annie Lamott. She says in her book Bird by Bird, we go through life with only a flashlight in the dark. We can only see the small area our flashlight casts light on; it does not make sense, and is not prudent to obsess over what is in the peripheral dark areas. As long as you continue to walk forward and make progress, your path will be revealed slowly. It is when we get occupied by the “what ifs” and the “what elses” that our path becomes unclear and we invite the risk of becoming stagnant.

It’s like Dory says, “JUST KEEP SWIMMING.”