Last Rant for Awhile

I'm still grumpy. Unfortunately, it is not that cute Grover from Sesame Street grumpy that everyone can love.

I am highly analytical and question every intention and every piece of information until I find a postulate it follows. I look for rule and reason in action, reproducible circumstances, and written fact.

It is difficult when everyone is yelling as loud as they can to be heard. People talk for themselves so much of the time, and fail to listen. It is a fallacy in the heads of most that we are good listeners. Repetition of word and phrase is proof. So is complaint.

We all complain. It is human and somehow increases our self-worth and value. Sometimes we complain to be funny, sometimes we complain to blow off steam. Some complain more than others. This one is wearing a funny hat...

I'm complaining right now, but it is an admission I readily make and try to avoid in polite conversation. This blog is for me. Not for every man, woman, and child to read. I would never sell any product, I would never give stuff away, I would never give advice, and I could really care less if anyone besides my husband reads this. I blog because my handwriting is so slow and I lose a notebook way to fast.

In fact, my advice giving days are winding down fast. My job is to give recommendations and health advice. I diagnose and treat similar to a medical doctor with a heavy dose of education mixed in. I am really good with this kind of advice.

Not so good when someone is asking just to ask, or just to draw attention back to themselves. I don't care.

Your money problems? I have my own. Trying to save to buy a house, move, put my child in private education, and build a professional wardrobe isn't easy.

Your job problems? I have my own. I am actively seeking, continuously looking and applying for new jobs. I don't put my trust in anything because the most qualified, the nicest, or the best doesn't always get the job.

Your boy problems? How about a rambunctious two-year old who throws amazing yet heartbreaking tantrums. It is tough not to lose your fuse and to continuously provide positive discipline. The world is way to confusing for a 30 year-old let alone a toddler who refuses to potty train or take a bath.

I am glad I am exercising again. It lets me pound the faces of those who are bigots, liars, and fakes without actual violence. It lets me be angry. It lets me think without repercussion.

It also lets me remember what I am so thankful for and what I have that makes me so happy:

• Conor
• My mom being happy again and her CA-125 holding steady
• My dad respecting me
• Moving
• Stephen

Grumpy Party of One

I'm a really grumpy person these days. Non-forgiving and cynical of most. I am bitter, I am skeptical of the goodness in humans, and most of all I am tired of the idiocy.

This time last year, my world fell apart. I spent so long thinking I wasn't a good mom or wife. Spent so many nights wondering what the hell I was doing. With an email and an admission, my husband became my enemy. He lied, he thought of cheating, he drank and well he made me feel like I wasn't a good wife or mom.

It is now humorous, when I finally CAGE questioned him he asked me how I didn't notice. I didn't notice because he had mentally and physically checked out. So had I. I was too busy worrying about being a good mom and getting the fuck out of my grad school.

I completed my masters with a 3.9 GPA and glowing recommendations from all my clinical preceptors. I wrote a paper accepted by a journal. I became board-certified and passed my certifying exam in the 90th percentile. Yet, they wanted to kick me out and almost did. The stupidity of the matter is, I switched clinical placement twice because the first doctor had his DEA license revoked (couldn't write prescriptions) and the second was retiring in a matter of weeks. Neither my fault, neither allowed under their rules.

To round out the summer, our house we built was infected with all sorts of fun molds that made the house a danger to our health and unlivable. This house where my newborn learned to sit, crawl, and walk. This house where my mother battling ovarian cancer came for chemo. This house could have killed my mother easily and caused permanent damage to my son's lungs, GI and nervous system.

Fuck that house. Fuck the lies forged in it. Fuck the pain. Fuck the humiliation.

I am not a whiner. I don't emote well to others. Most of the time I am to fucking busy taking care of others to take care of myself. Maybe it is how I cope. Maybe I am codependent. Maybe I am a sucker.

All I know is it makes me bitter and angry at the inherent stupidity of most.

Part of being a great nurse and a fledgling nurse practitioner is reading the intentions of people and anticipating their actions. I do this really well. In a form of stereotyping I can also guarantee I understand you before you say a word. It also makes me numb and sad that others cannot do the same for me.

Once again, I clam up too often. I am highly aloof. I am also highly judgmental.

I judge based on sound reason and reproducible circumstances. I don't take the written word at face value. I can't. It isn't scientific. Those websites we read and post, those are meant to sway your opinion and make you fail to see every angle and minute detail. They are meant to make money. Just remember Huffington Post was created by a socialite akin to Paris Hilton.

It has been a year now, and my husband and I have begun a new relationship. It is still a work in progress but the laughter is back. The fun is back. This makes me know I have one champion in my corner.

Make that two. I know I am a good mommy.

I have a opportunity to pursue a career that I cannot in Charleston. The "good-ole boy" mentality of nursing in Charleston is outdated, rude, and not the place I want to be. I am unconventional but creative and will be really, really good at my job. How do I know this? From working, from clinical, and because I care about making people feel better.

I care too much sometimes. I am the RN/FNP-C that goes to funerals, that brings your family pizza, and will exhaust all opportunities to educate you, empower you, and make you smile. I'm really awkward and will drop my stethoscope but I won't miss that dropped heart beat when I listen.

Please allow me to be grumpy. Please ask me how my mom is doing. Please anticipate my needs sometimes. And please realize I don't really care about your "boy" problems. I had shit handed to me on a platter with "boy" stuff. I made it through, you can to.