(no subject)
Driving home tonight I was thinking a lot. I had planned a lot of stuff to write about but I ended up thinking about things so long that I'm kind of unmotivated to write about it all.
Anyways, I had a long day today. A pretty cool one too. But one thing in particular happened that has really made me think all day long.
Most people have some sort of "calling"; okay let's just refer to it as that here. You know, some people just know that they want to end up in a certain job. Well, after I got through the whole OH I WANT TO BE A DOCTOR phase as a kid, I lost that. I have really been lost on the subject. Nothing I've thought of has seemed to fit me. I enjoy so many different things and not one more than the other. Needless to say, I've jumped from one thing to another like 500 times. I've been taking classes at JCC. Random classes really, but I've somehow accumulated enough classes to be 9 credit hours away from my associate in arts degree. Which is cool, I'm glad I'll have at least one degree.
But I don't want to end up in some crap job that I won't be happy in. I'm absolutely TERRIFIED of making the wrong decision and ending up miserable. I want to be happy. That's all I want in life is just to have a loving family + friends, a nice job that I enjoy, and money to support us. I guess it is a lot to ask but I will not be happy until I achieve that. That's what pushes me to change my mind so often.
Anyways, I had thought for awhile that I wanted to teach elementary school. I mean, I had such a great time in elementary school, I love kids, and I know I'd be good at it. But it's just not something I'm passionate about. So I changed my mind and decided maybe I would end up writing somehow. Hey, I like to write, and it turns out I'm not that bad at it. So yeah, I went with writing. It ended up that I decided to teach some sort of high school English class. Yep, that was what I wanted to do! Okay but then! My dad got sick. I've had to take care of him. My brother struggles to go to college and just HELP with my dad so I don't see how going to the university would be possible. My brother told me about this program that U of L offers, completely online. It was for a bachelor in arts in communication. I though, hey cool, that is like writing. I could write for a magazine or something like that and end up teaching too! So let’s go with that!
That's where I've been at until today. My dad is in the hospital again and I went to visit him. The guy that is sharing the room with him is in his 70's. When my dad was first admitted Friday night I could tell the guy was really sick. He was lying in bed rattling, moaning in pain. He couldn't speak when the nurse would come in. He would just sit there and moan. When it was just me, my dad, and the guy in the room that night, he kept moaning from pain. I swear he looked at me several times and each time he did he just moaned louder like he wanted me to help him. I didn't know what to do for him. I didn't know anything about him so I just sat there. I prayed. and prayed and prayed and prayed. Eventually he stopped. But he rattled with every breath he was taking.
This part is morbid and junk but I think it's vital to the explanation. Don't read if you don't want to!
When I was young I watched my grandma and mom die of cancer. Grandma was diagnosed with cancer and me and my mom moved in with her and took care of her until she died in November 1995. A few months before she died, my mom was diagnosed with the same kind, ovarian cancer. The cancer basically spread and ate away at both of their bodies in a similar fashion. And in both of them, I learned what the "death rattle" was. It's basically where there lungs start to fill up with fluid (very close to death) and every breath they take, you can hear it making a rattling noise.
I knew that since he was making this noise, he probably wasn't going to be around much longer. I had no idea what was wrong with him but I assumed cancer.
I prayed for him that night, a lot. I found out the next morning that he was just diagnosed with esophageal cancer. The doctor said that he could die anywhere from that night until three months; but in his professional opinion, there was no way he would make it past three months.
As of today he is still holding on. When I visited my dad, he had family up there. As I was leaving, his son (in his 40's or 50's I'd say) was waiting for the elevator that I was. He was walking outside to smoke (ironic that his dad is dying of cancer eh? :\) and I was going to my car so we walked together. He asked how my dad was and stuff. I told him pretty good, kind of cranky, wanted to go home. Usually a person would say "well how's your dad?" but I already knew. And how do you ask when you know the answer is "oh he'll croak anytime now"? So I just kept quiet. I can't describe how many thoughts I had walking out to the car. Just walking in silence the whole way beside this man who was pretty much guaranteed to lose his father at any moment, and I had no idea what to do or say. And it wasn't my place to say anything. But I wanted to so bad. I wanted just hug him or tell him it would be okay. I can't describe how bad I wanted to help. I wanted to help his dad, I wanted to help him. Just some way! and then it occurred to me!
My calling is HELPING. I've always had this powerful urge to fix everyone’s problems. If someone has a problem, I want to know about it so I can fix it. Even if I can't, I want to try. Or at least comfort them.
But more specifically, my heart breaks for people in times of grief. Because I've been there, I know how it is. And just someone to talk to helps so much. Someone who won't judge you, outside of the situation (this is why a family member or a friend doesn't work all the time) who understands, who can tell you/show you that it DOES get better. I feel absolutely compelled by this realization. It's something that I think would fulfill me. Yeah dealing with sad people all the time wouldn't be the most fun but helping them! That would be great. I would feel so much joy from helping people move on, to feel better, just to let it all out and release their pain/grief/etc.
I don't know if anyone will understand this, read it all, or care. But I felt the need to write about it. And yeah I know, I didn't think I would end up writing this much. But I did. So deal, thanks.
Hopefully it'll work out.
Anyways, I had a long day today. A pretty cool one too. But one thing in particular happened that has really made me think all day long.
Most people have some sort of "calling"; okay let's just refer to it as that here. You know, some people just know that they want to end up in a certain job. Well, after I got through the whole OH I WANT TO BE A DOCTOR phase as a kid, I lost that. I have really been lost on the subject. Nothing I've thought of has seemed to fit me. I enjoy so many different things and not one more than the other. Needless to say, I've jumped from one thing to another like 500 times. I've been taking classes at JCC. Random classes really, but I've somehow accumulated enough classes to be 9 credit hours away from my associate in arts degree. Which is cool, I'm glad I'll have at least one degree.
But I don't want to end up in some crap job that I won't be happy in. I'm absolutely TERRIFIED of making the wrong decision and ending up miserable. I want to be happy. That's all I want in life is just to have a loving family + friends, a nice job that I enjoy, and money to support us. I guess it is a lot to ask but I will not be happy until I achieve that. That's what pushes me to change my mind so often.
Anyways, I had thought for awhile that I wanted to teach elementary school. I mean, I had such a great time in elementary school, I love kids, and I know I'd be good at it. But it's just not something I'm passionate about. So I changed my mind and decided maybe I would end up writing somehow. Hey, I like to write, and it turns out I'm not that bad at it. So yeah, I went with writing. It ended up that I decided to teach some sort of high school English class. Yep, that was what I wanted to do! Okay but then! My dad got sick. I've had to take care of him. My brother struggles to go to college and just HELP with my dad so I don't see how going to the university would be possible. My brother told me about this program that U of L offers, completely online. It was for a bachelor in arts in communication. I though, hey cool, that is like writing. I could write for a magazine or something like that and end up teaching too! So let’s go with that!
That's where I've been at until today. My dad is in the hospital again and I went to visit him. The guy that is sharing the room with him is in his 70's. When my dad was first admitted Friday night I could tell the guy was really sick. He was lying in bed rattling, moaning in pain. He couldn't speak when the nurse would come in. He would just sit there and moan. When it was just me, my dad, and the guy in the room that night, he kept moaning from pain. I swear he looked at me several times and each time he did he just moaned louder like he wanted me to help him. I didn't know what to do for him. I didn't know anything about him so I just sat there. I prayed. and prayed and prayed and prayed. Eventually he stopped. But he rattled with every breath he was taking.
This part is morbid and junk but I think it's vital to the explanation. Don't read if you don't want to!
When I was young I watched my grandma and mom die of cancer. Grandma was diagnosed with cancer and me and my mom moved in with her and took care of her until she died in November 1995. A few months before she died, my mom was diagnosed with the same kind, ovarian cancer. The cancer basically spread and ate away at both of their bodies in a similar fashion. And in both of them, I learned what the "death rattle" was. It's basically where there lungs start to fill up with fluid (very close to death) and every breath they take, you can hear it making a rattling noise.
I knew that since he was making this noise, he probably wasn't going to be around much longer. I had no idea what was wrong with him but I assumed cancer.
I prayed for him that night, a lot. I found out the next morning that he was just diagnosed with esophageal cancer. The doctor said that he could die anywhere from that night until three months; but in his professional opinion, there was no way he would make it past three months.
As of today he is still holding on. When I visited my dad, he had family up there. As I was leaving, his son (in his 40's or 50's I'd say) was waiting for the elevator that I was. He was walking outside to smoke (ironic that his dad is dying of cancer eh? :\) and I was going to my car so we walked together. He asked how my dad was and stuff. I told him pretty good, kind of cranky, wanted to go home. Usually a person would say "well how's your dad?" but I already knew. And how do you ask when you know the answer is "oh he'll croak anytime now"? So I just kept quiet. I can't describe how many thoughts I had walking out to the car. Just walking in silence the whole way beside this man who was pretty much guaranteed to lose his father at any moment, and I had no idea what to do or say. And it wasn't my place to say anything. But I wanted to so bad. I wanted just hug him or tell him it would be okay. I can't describe how bad I wanted to help. I wanted to help his dad, I wanted to help him. Just some way! and then it occurred to me!
My calling is HELPING. I've always had this powerful urge to fix everyone’s problems. If someone has a problem, I want to know about it so I can fix it. Even if I can't, I want to try. Or at least comfort them.
But more specifically, my heart breaks for people in times of grief. Because I've been there, I know how it is. And just someone to talk to helps so much. Someone who won't judge you, outside of the situation (this is why a family member or a friend doesn't work all the time) who understands, who can tell you/show you that it DOES get better. I feel absolutely compelled by this realization. It's something that I think would fulfill me. Yeah dealing with sad people all the time wouldn't be the most fun but helping them! That would be great. I would feel so much joy from helping people move on, to feel better, just to let it all out and release their pain/grief/etc.
I don't know if anyone will understand this, read it all, or care. But I felt the need to write about it. And yeah I know, I didn't think I would end up writing this much. But I did. So deal, thanks.
Hopefully it'll work out.