Colder Weather

"He said I wanna see you again, but I'm stuck in colder weather. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Can I call you then? She said, You're a ramblin man. You ain't ever gonna change. You got a gypsy soul to blame and you were born for leavin'."     ~Zac Brown Band

12 years of working in the ER can make you jaded. You see the continuum of humanity from best to worst, young to old, birth to death. I knew this going in. I made a secret promise to myself that I would not allow myself to be jaded. My documentation would remain pristine. I would base all of my care on evidence-based research, and I would find a way to care for every soul that walked in the door regardless of their shortcomings. However, despite a nasty case of idealism, 12 years is a long time, and you can't imagine the atrocities that humans endure outside of everyone else's perfect microcosm. The average burnout rate for the emergency room nurse is anywhere from 5-7 years at which point, they retire to the PACU, post-anesthesia care unit.  I made it to 12 years and realized that it was just a matter of time.
The long road to pessimism begins with a lot of people lying to you for drugs. It's too many mothers neglecting their children for boyfriends who don't care. It's too many elderly found on their living room floors after three days, dehydrated, malnourished and smelling of urine because they couldn't get up and no one visited them. Then there are the drunks who insist on peeing on the floor, right in front of you. It's a hundred stories of the worst possible example of humanity and you simply cannot believe that not only is the person in front of you the worst human story you've ever heard, there's one worse waiting in the emergency room waiting room. After awhile, you wake up and realize that you are, in fact, jaded.
Soon gallows humor is the only way to get through a shift. You begin to judge and point your finger and guilt everyone around you into making better choices. And they buy it because their lives are so immeasurably awful.
Quitting is not an option because by quitting, you essentially quit humanity. You quit the people. People that need you so much, even THEY don't know how much. Obviously, when you are not there, the ER continues on. You're not there, but SOMEBODY is, and your turn is coming back around soon enough. You go home, hug your kids, kiss your husband, and revel in the beauty that surrounds you, at least that's what you should do. Unfortunately, these stories eat away at you and it's hard to be happy knowing there's an element out there struggling for survival.
I used to fight my own internal battle. Who am I to change someone's stripes? Who am I to pass judgment on another because essentially, that is what I am doing by disapproving of their life choices and asking them to make different ones.  Would my suggestions lead them to a better path? Possibly. Or, I'm just some spoiled, white bitch in my ivory tower and I really should just shut the fuck up. (Yes, I've been told that more times than I can count). That doesn't trigger my touchy-feely sense. You can take the high road all you want but inside, you stop giving a shit. You stop wanting to help. Soon you join the ranks of the miserable, and stop holding people to a higher standard because you're too bitter to see them achieve it.
My story is unique in that I did not retire peacefully to the PACU. Instead, I got Cancer. That fixed my attitude right quick. I repented my jadedness. I was given help and kindness while I fought my battle and not once was I judged for a poor choice. Okay, I didn't make that many poor choices, but sometimes a chocolate eclair just begged me to eat it because I might not be around much longer to enjoy that particularly evil sidestep. Yeah, I'm a rebel.
I swore that I would not return to being jaded. I realized that my days working in the ER are over because as an older person, my patience has worn thin. The potential for jaded is much higher, and I don't want my cancer fight to be for nothing, because if anything good came out of getting cancer, it was my appreciation for human life. All human life, including anyone and everyone who was willing to accept my love. My help.  My kindness. My "human-ness."
I didn't plan to have that thrown back in my face. Again.
I've experienced some major disappointments this summer. I swear my heart was in the right place. I was reaching out. Reconnecting. Making amends for being "a fucking bitch" (because I sort of was, although I claim teenage ignorance and stupidity to SOME extent. I have since repented.). I've dedicated myself to my husband and my children serving our family the best way I know how, which is marginal at best. I nurtured my friendships and built many new ones. I opened myself to different ways of living, other people's politics and religion. I devoted myself to a the "sport" of mixed martial arts and gave my trust and respect to ANYONE with the nerve to step on the mat with me,  and I brought as much positive energy as I could muster.
Recent events have disappointed me beyond belief. There's a lesson in the events of my summer and I'm pretty sure it's a lesson, I learned long ago but for some reason, the universe feels compelled to keep teaching it. Maybe it's not my lesson, but I keep getting sucked into the same lesson, and the pain of it is felt nonetheless.
Everyone has a line. They draw a line in the sand that implies, "cross this, and all bets are off. By crossing this line, you have compromised everything you stand for." What do I stand for? I stand for women and kids, nomadic river guides, families, Wild and Scenic Rivers, and people making the best choices they can so as not to find themselves in an ER begging for opiates and telling their nurse how nothing is their fault. It's not easy. Sometimes the choices we are given seem impossible. Often, the right choice is the most painful one. I had the best of intentions to share my heart, open it up and invite everyone in. For the most part, I was successful. I made some great friendships that deepen and grow everyday. I reconnected with some old friends from long ago. They have since brought new members into the fold. Husbands, wives, children and more friends. One of my friend's daughters danced "for Breast Cancer" in my name. I met her at my 30th High School reunion. These new connections have been meaningful and amazing to the point where I come to expect it. Allowing yourself to trust and give almost blindly is a choice. Being afraid to be hurt is a lot like being afraid cancer will come back. You just can't focus on that and sometimes you have to live your life with your heart and hope that it will be all okay. Recently, I walked away from something where my presence alone would only degrade and destroy the experience of another. I didn't want to, and I'm not accustomed to walking away from anything but I couldn't see a way through that would make it a positive experience for all. Certainly, it was a choice based on fear and involved people who are tentative to take an incalculable risk. (As I write this, I  realize, that this perhaps, is my lesson.) I had another similar experience where the people weren't afraid to open up. They took a huge risk and the result was a new friendship for me and amazing friendships for my girls. I am glad I took this risk and I am so happy that despite a painful choice for me, I didn't cross my line. The two experiences hold each other in sharp relief.
Funny, when you draw a line, it tends to be in your face as if the universe is challenging you to cross it. It's as if the universe is testing me. "What circumstances WILL make you cross that line?"
Without throwing a person under the bus publicly, I will say that I have a "friend". And this "friend" has recently disappointed me immeasurably. He has crossed my line and as the light is shed on this act of betrayal, I have learned that he has crossed it over and over with no expectation of consequence throughout our friendship. I hold him to a higher standard as I do all of my friends largely because when you hold your friends to high standards, they tend to meet them. Instead, I've been lied to, while in the service of others, and I have indirectly contributed to the demise of a paradigm that we all worked so hard to create. Essentially, I am burnt. I have felt this awful feeling before. It is that same jaded feeling I had when I worked in the ER. Suddenly, I have no desire to open my heart to anyone anymore. I have the inexorable desire to retreat to within and protect my own. Now, I am faced with another choice. Stay and fight, or walk away. If I stay, I perpetuate the lie, and cross my line. If I walk away, I fix nothing and the status quo remains as it does in the previous example. Neither choice feels good. One choice maintains my integrity but the other supports those not directly involved.  When do you stand on your soapbox and when do you prioritize the positive? And why the hell do I repeatedly have to be presented with this fucked up scenario? Clearly, this is a case of same shit, different day which leads me to believe I didn't really nail it the first time.
Admittedly, it's easy to be jaded. We expect the worst from others and close our hearts off to an amazing life because generally, the things that have the biggest payback are the ones that carry the highest risk. However, when we give our hearts freely, openly and take that ultimate risk, we are occasionally punished with pain, betrayal, and sadness, and it hurts. For awhile.  I've taken this risk plenty of times and good things happened. I've gotten a pink sign with my name on it held by a beautiful 16 year-old girl, a kiss from a 5 year-old, a new dance move, a scissors take-down, a Mt. biking buddy, a guy to play guitar with whenever I go home, a friend who fixes my heart when it's broken and a husband who brings me coffee every morning. Yes, I've had my heart crushed a couple of times and perhaps the pain of not being 100% successful pleads to my competitive nature. "Win some you lose some" (never a philosophy I subscribed to. I prefer Win all, lose nothing, but I'm unrealistic like that). I don't want to get cancer again to fix my "jaded" problem. I'm really trying to find the balance. I'm trying to give people a chance to be good and awesome and true and keep them in my heart without letting them lay waste to it. I'm working on forgiveness, and the delicate balance of forgiving someone but letting them know that their choice is incompatible with my "line." I continue to be a work in progress and while hope is not a strategy, it's a tool. Good things lie ahead and they are unfolding every minute. I know they are there. I refuse to be jaded. I refuse to turn my back on humanity and I refuse to be put in the impossible situation of having to choose between the two.