Repeated

I am a conundrum. I am a white female who grew up in a small mountain town, a real-life Mayberry of sorts. I was so so sheltered as a child. It was rare that I saw diversity, in beliefs, sexuality, race, ethnicity or otherwise. But my mother was the opposite, she had grown up hard, and so she instilled in us all of the sight we did not get from seeing, but from hearing her heart's stories. My iTunes library is like a musical story of my personality, I have Anita Baker, but also Dr. Dre, I have Carrie Underwood, but also Jill Scott.

I guess that means I'm complicated.

This past week I broke the rule I set for myself and I covered two shifts on days I normally don't work in the field. Not this week! Not making that mistake again! Even without that added complication my week has been weird enough. This morning I had to go to a cremation training where I reviewed, what I already had to learn when I joined hospice, the process of cremation and burial.

As some of my coworkers and I were sitting in a room with a bunch of casket and urn options...I was thinking to myself...my life is incredibly weird. If my children or my family knew what I see, do, or interact with I think they'd be traumatized for life.  Recently I've started to get my cyclical restlessness, and that's made me wonder if I will work in hospice forever or if I will do something else. Mom/Baby, L&D...neonatology...internal medicine...oncology....

But for some reason this feels like what was chosen for me, and so for now, I'm stickin' with it. Even if it feels weird to watch someone die, and go home and cook a chicken. That's my life.