W-O-M-A-N

I recently had to create an image of my practice philosophy for my women's health class.  Given my general lack of artistic ability, I was pleased with how this collage turned out.  Some friends and family are included, hope you don't mind :)  Below is the accompanying essay explaining my approach to caring for women.  It is admittedly a little cheesy, but professors love that!  Happy Sunday to all. 

~ Caro

My overall goal is to provide care to a diverse, multi-cultural, underserved, and underinsured population.  This goes hand-in-hand with my passion for travel, love for learning languages, and intrigue for exploring the food, music, and customs of other cultures.  From my experiences both here and abroad, I've come ot learn that there are many ways of being a woman.  One way or belief is not superior to another; rather, it is unique and deserves to be recognized as such.  I strive to approach each patient, especially women, with an open and humble mind.  I hope to learn something about another human being and myself with each encounter.   I purposefully included a variety of women representing different ages, cultures, races, professions, and socio-economic statuses.   Personal friends and family are included because they have been so fundamental in my development as a woman, and in my understanding of who a woman truly can be.  The words forming the picture frame read "woman" in thirty-seven different languages from Spanish, to Russian, to Urdu.  Though there are many ways to express the idea of a woman, they all share the same fundamental meaning.  Regardless of where we live, what we look like, or what language we speak, we are united as women by our common experiences, hopes, and dreams. 

Battling Bitterness

I have been really grumpy lately. Pretty much about everything. I’m angry at my manager for not honoring my resignation date and making me find someone to cover my last two shifts. I’m irritated with my professors for not being on top of our HUGE project and setting us up for colossal frustration. I’m even mad at my pimples that won’t leave me alone after eighteen years and three rounds of accutane. Lately I’ve become the master of finding something to bitch about.

I could use the excuse of my husband not being here for the past nine months, or working two jobs and going to school full time, or even the impending change of weather. Still, what it really boils down to is the fact that I don’t take care of myself. I spend every waking moment working, studying, sleeping, and eating. I haven’t allowed time for socializing, relaxing, exercising, or cooking. Despite what I preach about slowing down and taking life as it comes, I’ve been hypocritically running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

Today I finally took a “mental health” day and didn’t go to my clinical. It has been eight straight days of work/school, and I need to catch my breath. As I sit here at Caribou coffee in my puke green velour sweat suit sipping my non-fat pumpkin latte, I have a lot to be thankful for. Great coffee, time to write, a cozy place to keep dry from the rain. I fear that if I don’t slow down, I’ll become so inwardly focused and angry at the world. THEN what’s the point of everything I’m striving for? I can’t serve others without first caring for myself.

Love yourself first, and everything else falls in line. You really have to love yourself to get anything done in this world. – Lucille Ball

Slow down, you move too fast. Got to make the morning last.

I recently got my car engine fixed to the tune of $500. For the last month I’ve been driving in a car that didn’t accelerate. Literally. Pedal to the metal—nothing. It took me a good 30 seconds to go from 5 to 50mph, which on paper sounds pretty good. Not so much. The sad part is, not being able to drive fast made me realize how hurried people are. While merging onto the highway, oversized SUVs and semi trucks left me in the dust like nobody’s business. As a result of my sluggish pace, I was often plagued with honks and dirty looks. One time I even got honked at for letting a pedestrian cross the street while I was making a right turn. Geesh.

I couldn’t help but think, what’s the rush? Sure, I’ve been late to work before and in a hurry to get where I’m going. But lately I’ve been wondering why we tear around like crazy as if we never have enough time to do anything, go anywhere, talk to anyone. Consequently, I’ve decided to make a more conscious effort to slow down in all areas of my life. Easier said than done, but I think it’s worth the effort.

Brings to mind a childhood song I remember singing with my mom:

Have patience, have patience, don’t be in such a hurry
When you get impatient, you only start to worry
Remember, remember, that God is patient too
And think of all the times when others had to wait on you.

Slow down, take a deep breath, and be well. Grace and peace, Carolyn

The Wheels on the Bus Go...

I love riding the bus. When I was in school I regularly took public transportation, but since moving to the boonies have gotten into the habit of driving everywhere. There’s something rawly authentic about the bus. It’s a reminder of the harsh realities facing people daily right here in Minneapolis and surrounding suburbs. Sure, you occasionally get stuck sitting by someone who reeks of smoke or talks your ear off, but that’s a small price to pay for experiencing genuine kindness from strangers.

This morning I turned around to exit from the double 16 at Moos Tower. An older Asian man pointed to the back door, as if he was concerned I was lost. When I pushed the door for it to open—it doesn’t move automatically—he made a pushing motion, as if saying ‘PUSH HARD!!’ It may sound corny, but I felt so loved and cared for by this man who didn’t utter a single word.

On the way home, an older bearded man plopped down in the seat across from me with his cane and backpack. “Hello”, he says, “How are you? Think you could move your stuff?” I moved my Chinese take-out as he plunked his stinky bare feet on the seat next to me. “What do you do?” I explained that I was a nurse and worked at HCMC. “I have Aspergers and have a hard time concentrating and want to get a PCA. Do you do homecare?” Laughing inside, I explained that I don’t but there are many people that do. His openness and friendliness, contrary to his proclaimed diagnosis, left me smiling as I exited the train saying “Have a good evening”.

Maybe if we all rode the bus once in awhile, we’d be kinder, more patient people.

Be well. Grace and Peace, Carolyn

Forgiveness

Three years ago, I lost my best friend. We met ten years ago during our first year of college. Common interests and passions quickly grew into a close friendship. However, I made a mistake one day that would forever change our relationship.

At first I thought she had forgiven me, and we continued being friends for a few more years. Then when she forgot my birthday and acted like nothing was wrong, I knew there was a problem. I asked for her forgiveness several times, to no avail. While I can understand her reasons, the most hurtful part is never having received a pardon, mercy for my imperfection.

In a strange way, my mistake has shown me the real power of forgiveness. Sure, I’d heard about forgiveness countless times at church, but never before have I truly understood its potential to heal. When withheld, it leaves a void filled with endless guilt. There isn’t a week that goes by that I don’t remember my friend and how deeply I hurt her. Despite several humble requests, she has not extended forgiveness. I’m not vain enough to expect regaining her trust or friendship, but not having the closure of knowing that she accepts me as a fallible human being is torturous. I almost have to forgive her for not forgiving me, for withholding the most important gift our Christian friendship was once based upon.

Knowing what it’s like to live without forgiveness makes me eternally grateful for God’s grace. I now know the guilt, shame, and regret that lingers as a consequence of my selfish nature without the potential to start anew, to acknowledge that I am imperfect but still loved. Without forgiveness, we are all held to an impossible standard. I, for one, cannot live in a world where God doesn’t forgive. His grace is truly a gift that allows me to breathe, move, and be who I am, faults and defects to boot.

Grace and peace,

Carolyn

1 John 1:9 “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness."

What's it all about...

I've always wondered why people have blogs.  The concept never really made much sense to me.  Living alone has given me way too much time to be inside my head, and lately I've had the urge to purge--my thoughts, that is.  Thinking can be exhausting, especially when one doesn't have a consistent outlet to share those deep and tantalizing concepts.  

That being said, take this as you will.  My intent is to share my ideas, thoughts, dreams, hopes, frustrations, and challenges.  I may offend some, and admit I will not apologize for it.  As always, I am grateful for my friends and family who sustain me.  

Grace and Peace,

Carolyn