Rally Cry
From my journal. Aug 23/22
In 2008 I was in my second year of nursing school.
A group of us were outside during a short break between classes, or maybe testing. Between puffs of shared menthol cigarettes, one by one, we each exhaled our thoughts into the winter air:
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
“I want to quit.”
I don’t remember who was the first to speak what we were all thinking, but I do remember each of us rallying one another:
“You were meant for this.”
“You’re so smart.”
“You’re going to be such a good nurse.”
Instead of asking “How can we make sure we don’t feel like this again?”
“What do we need to do to prevent these feelings?”
"What happens when we don’t have each other to encourage us to go on?"
We picked up our very heavy books, held our heads high, and determined if we can get through this, we can get through anything.
I carried that invincible complex through my life and career. On my hard days and nights, I shoved back my tears I wanted to share with my patients, their families, my coworkers.
I’d tell myself I could get through anything. And I did.
I got through illness, death, diagnoses, wins and losses.
In both my career and my personal life, I told myself, “You are strong, you can handle this” and later, “I have survived all my hardest days.”
And that was enough.
Until it wasn’t.
This blog is a different kind of rally cry.
If you think you can’t do it (or just don’t want to) anymore, I’m not going to give you the “You an do it!” speech.
I’m going to tell you,
“I hear you. I see you.”
And
“It’s OK to quit.”
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