I think retirement has been good for me. A year later, I am standing slightly straighter, my smile more relaxed, albeit goofy. I'm working on being natural and 'me'. My vegetable beds look awesome, don't they? I'm slowly excavating and recovering the lost parts of myself - my core, my hard drive.
I wonder if I have been suffering from what they call 'compassion burn out'. I do not miss work at all nor have any desire to revisit my place of employment of 34 some years. It is strange and troubles me sometimes. Does my work have so little meaning? I feel cynical and sarcastic at different times.
I thought I would be tapping out story after story of my life as a nurse. There were many stories over the years, some funny, some not. You could count on plenty of drama. There was always plenty of poop if not blood and gore. My blog was set up, BUT the words and stories were slow to come. My memory went blank. My mind fled the scene.
Now the blog sits abandoned like an unfinished house, waiting for the contractor to return. Its few posts are still standing, bravely holding the space till the once-upon-a- nurse returns to tell her tales. Will she? Can she - recover her nursing cap and pin? Can her fingers tap out the medical history? Only time can tell.
Meanwhile she is busy clear cutting the under/over growth of her life. Woolly and wild things can take over when you are busy slinging bedpans and saving lives. Now the weeds are being machete-ed. There are clearings in her forest. She can breathe. She can almost think again. She has resuscitated herself.
The bread is rising, the flowers are blooming, the guy is tinkering in the garage. Sheba is keeping a close eye on him.
She is tap, tapping out her history.
Original Post @onethousandandtwo
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