Owning Our Oddities.

(Here is a post from guest blogger, Corey Rotella! I hope you enjoy this.)

Ah anxiety. It’s good to see you, old friend. I felt that nagging vague fear attempt to sneak in the back door of my mind. I know this dance well. That quiet feeling of impending doom has defined aspects of my life for as long as I can remember, though I didn’t realize it until I was in my thirties. It’s hardwired into my psyche. As a child, I did my best to escape it. I felt so awkward ALL THE TIME, as if everyone got a manual to life that I was somehow lacking.

     I remember the exact moment when I realized that I lacked the ability to be anyone other than myself. Seventh grade orientation. A brand new school! I was going to be cool! No more “passing Corey germs” from bullying sixth graders. This was a whole new ballgame! So, I borrowed my Grandma’s coolest shirt (my awkward ideas of fashion at the time are a topic for another post) and hit the ground running! The potential of what junior high could be lay before me in all its glory! Life at home during this period of my life was chaotic and I was filled with constant self-doubt that I hid behind a smile so I had placed all my hope for happiness in my school life. And what an extravaganza it was! Cheerleaders and show choir and the dance team exhibiting their skills; extracurricular activities abounded and I soaked up the possibility for an amazing junior high school experience. It wasn’t until the festivities were almost over that I felt a tap on my shoulder.

     “Your shirt is inside out.”…and I knew right then that no matter how hard I might try and how fervently I may wish, I was who I was. I was the girl who wore shirts inside out and lost notebooks and lacked any kind of mental filter and…well I was a weirdo. But not in a cool, intentional way. I was the girl who lived in her head and vacationed in the real world. Any attempt to change this would be an exercise in futility…Seventh grade orientation, I was twelve and I knew that was a fundamental truth.

      Before that fateful day, I could pretend. After, I could only escape. I escaped into books and daydreams and writing. ANYTHING that would pull me from the depressing and difficult realities that surrounded me. That worked…until it didn’t. See, no matter how far I tried to run in my mind and how much I tried to force circumstances to conform into my own personal world view, reality would always show its ugly face and the real world has sharp teeth.

         So, pretending didn’t work and escaping didn’t work. What came next? Fighting! I fought myself and I fought my life, all the while that devious anxiety whispering in the back of my head…you are a failure. You are weird. You are a loser. What’s the point?…Only I wasn’t aware of those thoughts. I didn’t realize those soft and deadly notions had been there all along. It was at that point, those demons began to drive the train. By the time I was in my mid-twenties, I had given up without realizing it. I was pretending, escaping and fighting. I pretended that I was fine. I escaped into any substance that would pull me from reality and I was fighting the idea that there was any other option available. It was exhausting. By all rights, I should be dead a few times over. I don’t know why I had a moment of clarity when so many don’t. I don’t know where I found the strength to grab a hold of that opportunity. I only know that it saved me. That was the day my life began.

              By the time I began my path to recovery, I had such shame and fear that I had no idea how to live. I had no idea who I was and what I wanted, other than for the pain to stop. I wasn’t rebuilding a life that I had lost, you see. My troubles started long before I ever picked up the bottle. I was starting from scratch and that was every bit as exciting as it was terrifying. Clean slate. Tabula Rasa.

           Eight years later, what have I learned? I do not have the luxury of pretending, escaping or fighting certain truths. My level of pain is directly related to my actions.  Feelings are just feelings. To deny them is a dangerous waste of energy. Today I OWN those feelings. I AM awkward. I DO feel anxiety. Occasionally, I wear two different shoes by mistake. I feel anger and fear and doubt and insecurity. I have made some gigantic mistakes. I accept these facts on a day by day basis and I own it and in doing so I am free to learn and grow from all of it. When you own who you are, who you are does not own you. I have been my worst possible self and survived it. Now I get to use that to help others. That is the very definition of redemption and in discovering that truth, I’ve learned what it really means to be free.

       Corey Anne Rotella co-authored the book CNA Edge: Reflections from year one along  with Bob Goddard and Hannah Hedges. It’s  collection of essays from their blog  CNA Edge: a Voice from the trenches of Long Term Care

 http://www.cnaedge.com/

She also writes commentary about her life experiences on her personal blog Chasing Wonderland  https://howdoyoueatanelaphant.wordpress.com/

Being Mindful of How We Talk to Ourselves!

mental-health1We tend to underestimate the power of the words we use in the conversations we have with ourselves.  You know those conversations we have with ourselves inside our head and even out loud when no one else is around to hear…what we sometimes refer to as “self-talk.”  Self-talk can have a huge impact on our confidence and belief in ourselves. It can be positive or negative, and have different effects on how we feel. These conversations are essentially us thinking and the words that we are thinking with are basically the building blocks of our thoughts.    So it’s very important that we learn and understand the vocabulary of our experiences and the language we use to explain those experiences to ourselves and to others. 

Ask yourself do you really mean what you say to yourself?  Do you realize how powerful the words you use are and how they affect your mood? Our words can make us feel depressed, anxious, irritable and angry.  They can cause us to have low self-esteem’s as well as a poor self-image.  If you want to improve your mood, begin using positive and more meaningful words when describing yourself and your experiences in life.  Other ways to improve your self-talk can be as simple as listening to what you’re saying to yourself each day, expanding your emotional vocabulary and being mindful of how you use your words when engaging in self-talk.  It is important to remember that the words you use to describe your world is in essence what creates it.

For instance, when I start to feel stressed or doubt myself I like to tell myself “I got this, because I’m a Rockstar!” Seems silly I know, but it makes me smile, gives me confidence and motivates me.  I don’t mean or believe that I am actually a Rockstar, but instead that I am “good enough”….No wait! I am better than “good enough”. 

I am greater than sum of my parts.

    “We need to talk.” 

    “I’m busy”, she replies without looking up from her cluttered desk. Paint brushes, pens without caps and pieces of paper covered with scribbled half thoughts; ideas that rush from her so fast that by the time she jots them down they are practically illegible. She is resolve. She is unbridled energy. She is determination, perseverance, and passion…and often enough she is a pain in the ass.

     “Get unbusy.” There was no room for argument. She recognized there would be no debating this with me.

     “Between you and the kid, I can never get anything done.”

 She doesn’t get it.  She doesn’t realize she stands in her own way. In her quest to do everything, she wears herself down so much that she would crash and burn completely if I let her. She’s the one with something to prove. Not to others; that’s the kid’s issue to deal with, but to herself. This drive, when put to good use is a force to be reckoned with. Left unchecked, though, it could consume us all.

      I crouched down so I was eye level to the little one.

      “You too, kiddo. Come on.” To her, I spoke gently. She is always so afraid of anyone being angry with her that I have to tread lightly.

      “Did I do something wrong?”, she asked hesitantly.

        “UGHHHH I am sick to death of you asking that question. If you did, you didn’t mean it so who cares? Do you want to be defined by that? You are stronger than this!”, the woman at the desk exclaimed as she impatiently pushed back her chair to join us.

      “Enough!”, I gathered the little girl onto my lap. She means well. She always means well. She is a loving, imaginative little girl full of curiosity, but she doesn’t know that. She tries so hard but believes she falls short in every way. If she were prettier, smarter, nicer, better then people wouldn’t be so angry. She doesn’t understand why the world is such a mean, scary place. What she doesn’t know is that her heart has a power of its own. She sees the best in everyone. She does not like to see people hurt. She is giving and in her own way braver than than the woman so determined to do everything; the woman who on some level hides behind being busy in order to avoid vulnerability. The kid is open and loves despite her fear. She is empathy. She is light and love. She is fear and hope wrapped in one and she too can be a pain in the ass. This heart, when put to good use has the power to heal and create. Left unchecked though, it can bog us all down in overwhelming emotion and keep us stagnant.

       I love them both. I need them both, but it is time to set some boundaries. The two of them have been at odds, pulling against one another. I prefer to work behind the scenes, quietly doing my best to maximize the best traits of them both for a healthy, fulfilling if somewhat unpredictable life. Lately it’s been a bit off tune, hence this pow-wow.

       “We have to make a schedule”.  I did not think this would go over so well with either of them. The kid still writes her letters backwards with with crayons and the woman with the Wonder Woman complex would rather struggle than bother with anything as mundane and stifling as a “schedule”. I held back the urge to roll my eyes. SO pretentious. Still I get it. Organization is none of our strong points. 

      “Look. We are all running on empty. It’s no wonder the two of you have been at odds. The lack of sleep alone is enough to throw anyone off. But we’ve got a boyfriend we love dearly getting his feet on the ground, meetings, writing, painting, a full time job that requires mental acuity, friends, sponsor, sponsees and a world to try to make better. You want to do it all at the same time and you, kiddo…you want to hide from all of it. It’s been suggested that we make a schedule. I think it’s a good place to start. The three of us together can enjoy this ride if we do it right. It’s a cake walk, but first things first. We make a schedule.”

       I am awareness. I am balance. I am consistency. I am calmness, focus and good sense. I don’t speak up enough. Put to good use, I am a guiding force that unites us as we live life as fully and authentically as possible. Left unchecked, I run the risk of complacency, trapping us in the useless mire of “should be’s” and cynicism.

       The whole is greater than the sum of its parts. I have much greater awareness when I am in harmony with myself. There isn’t a single part of me that doesn’t recognize how far I’ve come. There isn’t a single part of me that doesn’t know that I’ve only just begun. I have no idea where my life will lead me. It’s roads have been winding, full of pitfalls and magic and colored with the rich vibrancy of unusual experience. I hope that little girl within never fully grows up. She carries with her so much fear, but also an endless appreciation for life and love. She lives with endless curiosity and wonder. I hope I never lose the fighter either. She refuses to give up; refuses to be defined by anyone else’s standards. She is her own worst critic but she is willing to grow from obstacles. She is tough without being hard and thrives on defying odds. As for me, I’m the observer. I’m the scribe who tells the tale and I will continue to chronicle the journey as I go…and I’ll make a schedule.

Enough

(By Corey Rotella, CNA Extraordinaire)

    Enough. I have been hurting. That is okay. I’ve been taking on the emotions from other people’s decisions. That is not okay. I’ve been angry. That’s okay. I’ve been isolating. That is not okay. And how dare no one see through my forced optimism and shaky gratitude into the aching pain and fear that sits right beneath. How dare no one push through my thin claim that I’m hanging in there and see that my walls are crashing around me. How DARE he?! How DARE they?! How DARE…I.

     Enough. Because the truth is I am in a storm right now. Raging and crying and railing on the inside and I don’t like people to see me this way; this uncertain and vulnerable. I don’t like this feeling of not knowing the true from the false. Not having any answers. My most unbendable anchors from within have been shaken and my heart, which fuels every part of my life has been broken and yet the world keeps spinning. Business as usual. And here I am searching for myself among the wreckage. Who is this woman in the mirror with haunted eyes and an inability to smile? Who is this woman who once swore she would never again allow such pain into her heart? Who is this woman who just doesn’t want to care about anything anymore. This can’t be me. I will not allow this to be me.

     Enough. I let myself be on autopilot for a little while. Wash your face. Brush your teeth. Go to a meeting. Go to work. Wash. rinse. Repeat. The world feels grey. That doesn’t matter. I feel weighted down. That doesn’t matter either. It will pass and the future can bring what it will. For the moment, I force myself to stay in the present. 

     Enough. I am a writer. I am an artist. I am a caregiver. I am an advocate. I am a woman in recovery and I am a survivor. My life has been threaded with magic and whimsy, even if I can’t exactly feel it right now. I am capable of great love, humor and passion, even if I feel consumed by it at times. I am a worthy human being. Nothing can rob me of that. I am bigger than my problems. I am more than the sum total of my character defects and laying this all out there to the world for anyone else who may be struggling reminds me that I can be brave. It is the best way I know to rebel against despair. Because to hell with you, defeatism. To hell with you, self pity. You can’t have me. Not today.

Corey Anne Rotella co-authored the book CNA Edge: Reflections from year one along with Bob Goddard and Hannah Hedges. It’s collection of essays from their blog CNA Edge: A Voice from the trenches of Long Term Care

Changing the Things I Can

(By Corey Rotella, CNA Extraordinaire)

     I think the greatest lesson, the one that has served me the most is that life will never adapt to me. Life does not bend and twist itself to fit into my whims and desires and little plans. It’s just never worked that way. Years of futilely pounding my head against the wall and then resenting the headache has proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that my life does not belong in a box; not even one of my own design.

      It is not the sort of lesson that I get to learn once and move on either. No, it seems I have to learn and re-learn it all the time. ALL. THE. TIME. I can be willful and stubborn, obstinately refusing to move. I bury my head in the sand like a good little ostrich and pretend everything is okay. I try to force pieces into the puzzle because I think I know how the big picture is supposed to look or in an honest attempt to help another I manufacture all sorts of misplaced “solutions”, as if I have all the answers to all the questions because I am so very smart. Good intentions are sometimes ego driven.

      My level of pain is directly related to my level of willingness to just let go and truth be told, there are times when I am not so willing. It is then that I become the master of my own misery. Misery is a funny thing. Despair, resentments, fear…all awful ways to feel and yet the familiarity of it brings the warped sense of comfort derived from not having to make decisions; not having to make healthy changes; not having to be accountable. The hell I know is better than the hell I don’t sort of thinking that keeps one sick, psychically crippled, emotionally stunted and easily manipulated by the inner demons we all carry within. Sometimes I chase those ghosts but never for any length of time. Today, I have far too much to lose.

      It took me a long time to learn that “the hell we don’t know” is rarely a hell at all. It can be uncomfortable. It involves me doing things I don’t want to do, feeling emotions that I don’t want to feel and facing fears I don’t want to face but I have found that 100% of the time if I walk through it, my life becomes enriched, I become empowered and I learn and grow as a person. 

       Life does not adapt to me. In order to live authentically and happily, I must adapt to life. I must let go of what I think it should look like. I must let go of my expectations of what things should be which in hindsight always fall so short of what actually manifests. I have to consciously make the decision on a day by day basis to get out of my own way. 

      Here’s the interesting thing: when I climb down out of my head and realize that the only, the ONLY events over which I have any control are my own behaviors and choices, it frees me from the prison I created with its bars of self-doubt, self-destruction and over-thinking and allows me to make the choices necessary to become an active participant in my own life. In giving up my fight to control my circumstances, I gain my freedom. In giving up the fears and thoughts of the worst of me, I begin to get to know the best of me. In letting go of the reins that control life, I gain the ability to control myself.

Corey Anne Rotella co-authored the book CNA Edge: Reflections from year one along with Bob Goddard and Hannah Hedges. It’s collection of essays from their blog CNA Edge: A Voice from the trenches of Long Term Care

Broken People

   (By Corey Rotella, CNA Extraordinaire) 

      I put it on paper. I paint it on canvas. I reach in and drag up the very essence of who I am, my light and dark and discuss it with rooms full of strangers. 

      I feel the sharp edges of my fear prick the back of my mind, quietly nagging me with slivers of self-doubt. The relentless second guessing of my every thought and emotion whispers to me beneath the louder and more vibrant ideas that color my mind; the hamster wheel of chaos that churns up the dust clouds in my head, blurring my vision and skewing my perspective. I am so very broken sometimes.

       There is a peace that comes from owning that and admitting it, a hope that is unique to the broken people, the outcasts, those of us who are “different”. A broken person is given cracks through which to see the deeper essential truths of reality. A broken person is given the opportunity to put their pieces back together in a way that make the world make sense to them again. A broken person has more of an ability to help other broken people. Broken people who have put the pieces back together will do anything in their power to prevent breaking other people because they know how it feels. 

        Humor, hope, resiliency, trust, faith, courage, compassion and empathy and emotional intelligence are the happy byproducts of putting yourself together time and time again as you walk through life. Fear, self-doubt, resentment, dishonesty, boredom, jealousy, loneliness; those are the unintended consequences derived from viewing life through a window full of cracks instead of breaking through, cleaning up the shards of glass and starting anew.

         We have a choice. We always have a choice. Sometimes I forget that and stay in that grey area in my mind, futilely battling with myself in a stubborn refusal to just let go of the pieces that don’t fit as I try to force the reality into what I think it should be. I become the master of my own misery until I throw up my arms in frustrated surrender. Ok life. You win. I’m broken again. What’s next?… And then I put it on paper. I paint it on canvas. I reach in and drag up the very essence of who I am, my light and dark and discuss it with rooms full of strangers. And in doing so, my pieces fall back in place.

Corey Anne Rotella co-authored the book CNA Edge: Reflections from year one along with Bob Goddard and Hannah Hedges. It’s collection of essays from their blog CNA Edge: A Voice from the trenches of Long Term Care

A Case of the Shouldas

(By Corey Rotella, CNA Extraordinaire)

       I think I can’t. I think I can’t. I think I can’t…I’m not sure at what point this week I began to feel like the little engine that couldn’t. Maybe it was after a difficult conversation with my Grandma whose mental state is less than I had hoped. Maybe it was after arguing for an entire day with a variety of mechanics over car trouble. Maybe it was half way through a tough shift where my client was in a massive amount of pain and her husband’s mood was foul. Maybe it was having to have one too many adult conversations. At some point, my mind just shut down and my body went on auto pilot. I had checked out for a little while.

      Little did I know that I was suffering from a bad case of the “shouldas”…. I should have handled that better. I should have prepared for that possibility. I should have been able to articulate that idea more effectively. More often, the shouldas are accompanied with a horrible rash of “if only’s”…if only I was more organized. If only I finished college. If only I hadn’t eaten that entire box of hostess cupcakes. There isn’t much that causes more useless anxiety and stagnation than a bad case of the shouldas and if only’s.

       We all have those stretches where everything seems to fall apart at the same time. There is no wrong way to feel when those times hit. It’s important to recognize them for what they are though. I know that if I don’t pause and breathe, I start to think those moments will never pass and before I know it my attitude and behavior begins to mirror my feelings and thinking.

     It’s ok to have a bad day. It’s ok to have a bad week. It is an unreasonable expectation of myself to handle all difficulties with optimism as they are happening. Despite what my Wonder Woman coffee cup and matching underwear would have you believe, I am human. First world problems rarely feel that way when I am going through them and I have to learn to accept that and be patient.      

        So, I felt like the little engine that couldn’t this week. The first step on the path to feeling better was to accept it. Then I shared it with a friend (GASP! Expressing vulnerability in an open and honest way! That is top shelf adulting, right there!), and now I’m sharing it with you, readers, because maybe you are having a rough week too. And you know what? I feel much better. For me, the solution to negative emotions is positive action. It may not solve my problems instantly, but it always helps.

Corey Anne Rotella co-authored the book CNA Edge: Reflections from year one along with Bob Goddard and Hannah Hedges. It’s collection of essays from their blog CNA Edge: A Voice from the trenches of Long Term Care

 

Changing the Things I Can

(By Corey Rotella, CNA Extraordinaire)

I think the greatest lesson, the one that has served me the most is that life will never adapt to me. Life does not bend and twist itself to fit into my whims and desires and little plans. It’s just never worked that way. Years of futilely pounding my head against the wall and then resenting the headache has proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that my life does not belong in a box; not even one of my own design.

      It is not the sort of lesson that I get to learn once and move on either. No, it seems I have to learn and re-learn it all the time. ALL. THE. TIME. I can be willful and stubborn, obstinately refusing to move. I bury my head in the sand like a good little ostrich and pretend everything is okay. I try to force pieces into the puzzle because I think I know how the big picture is supposed to look or in an honest attempt to help another I manufacture all sorts of misplaced “solutions”, as if I have all the answers to all the questions because I am so very smart. Good intentions are sometimes ego driven.

      My level of pain is directly related to my level of willingness to just let go and truth be told, there are times when I am not so willing. It is then that I become the master of my own misery. Misery is a funny thing. Despair, resentments, fear…all awful ways to feel and yet the familiarity of it brings the warped sense of comfort derived from not having to make decisions; not having to make healthy changes; not having to be accountable. The hell I know is better than the hell I don’t sort of thinking that keeps one sick, psychically crippled, emotionally stunted and easily manipulated by the inner demons we all carry within. Sometimes I chase those ghosts but never for any length of time. Today, I have far too much to lose.

      It took me a long time to learn that “the hell we don’t know” is rarely a hell at all. It can be uncomfortable. It involves me doing things I don’t want to do, feeling emotions that I don’t want to feel and facing fears I don’t want to face but I have found that 100% of the time if I walk through it, my life becomes enriched, I become empowered and I learn and grow as a person. 

       Life does not adapt to me. In order to live authentically and happily, I must adapt to life. I must let go of what I think it should look like. I must let go of my expectations of what things should be which in hindsight always fall so short of what manifests. I must consciously make the decision on a day by day basis to get out of my own way. 

      Here’s the interesting thing: when I climb down out of my head and realize that the only, the ONLY events over which I have any control are my own behaviors and choices, it frees me from the prison I created with its bars of self-doubt, self-destruction and over-thinking and allows me to make the choices necessary to become an active participant in my own life. In giving up my fight to control my circumstances, I gain my freedom. In giving up the fears and thoughts of the worst of me, I begin to get to know the best of me. In letting go of the reins that control life, I gain the ability to control myself.

Corey Anne Rotella co-authored the book CNA Edge: Reflections from year one along with Bob Goddard and Hannah Hedges. It’s collection of essays from their blog CNA Edge: A Voice from the trenches of Long Term Care

 

Create!

(By Corey Rotella, CNA Extraordinaire)  

   I looked up at the clock, surprised to see that four hours had passed. I had paint in my hair, under my nails and on my favorite jeans…and I felt much, much better. I looked at the explosion of colors and patterns on the canvas before me and as always I was surprised that it came from me; that I created it and with that awareness came the deep sense of peace and satisfaction.

     I didn’t know how to paint two years ago. I didn’t take a class and the best I can do at painting actual objects is easily outdone by a kindergartener. None of that stops me from hitting the canvas when the shit hits the fan. For me, creating something, ANYTHING, is a life affirming act that rejuvenates my spirit and reconnects me to my present. Maybe it’s because for so long I was an active participant in my own destruction. Maybe it’s because right now all the collective anger in society seems so toxic that I feel powerless over it. Whatever the cause, the very attempt to bring an idea or emotion to life through a creative outlet does more for my mental and spiritual well-being than a store of self-help books. I blast my music and lose myself in the process as my mind and emotions feel free from the cage of everyday worries and anxieties for just a little while.

       I’ll tell you something else! My best paintings, my most insightful writings occur when I am feeling my most uncomfortable, when I’m fleeing into that land in my mind full of abstract thoughts and colors. It really gives meaning to those awkward moments when I feel uncomfortable in my own skin. It puts it to good use.

        Creating is a cleansing, cathartic experience that enhances my life in a way I didn’t think possible. I keep trying new things! Some work and some don’t. I’ll spare you the details of my in the shower solitary naked dance. Suffice to say, it ended with a bruise on my head and water all over the floor. Even so! It was a new experience! 

       I implore you to give it a shot. Write sad poetry, sing off key, paint, collage, dance naked (or clothed)! Don’t let that little voice inside convince you that you’re not good enough to do it. The point is trying new things. The very attempt to do so is, in and of itself, the creation of a new experience. Shine on my friends!

Corey Anne Rotella co-authored the book CNA Edge: Reflections from year one along with Bob Goddard and Hannah Hedges. It’s collection of essays from their blog CNA Edge: A Voice from the trenches of Long Term Care

Awareness and Action

(By Corey Rotella, CNA Extraordinaire)   

I can’t breathe. It’s too much. EVERYTHING is too much…it wasn’t until those words floated desperately through my mind that I realized that I have been on emotional auto pilot for at least a month. The system can only take so many big, dramatic changes before it becomes the new normal.  I start to rely on muscle memory and before I know it, I’m living in fear of the imagined wreckage of the future and preparing for the next shoe to drop.

         Anxiety, uncertainty, feelings of inadequacy…that three headed beast from within pops up from time to time in an attempt to block me from progress when life gets difficult. The first step to battling that monster is to become aware of it; to recognize that those feelings are not based in truth. Knowing that does not make the feelings go away immediately but it’s always good start.

     Ok, Corey. So now you’re aware of what’s going on within. What’s next? ACTION. I don’t feel like writing. Write anyway. I don’t feel like painting. Paint anyway. I don’t want to face work. Go anyway. I don’t want to talk about this. Pick up that phone. See, in the tough times what I WANT to do is isolate. What I WANT is immediate gratification of a quick solution. What I WANT to do is feed that beast of self pity or resentment or fear. What I NEED to do is get out of myself. What I NEED to do is go and help another human being. What I NEED to do is create.

       Often, I find that the only solution to walking through life’s challenges is to consistently work against my own instincts. When I am stuck in fear or pain, my instincts are awry and are not to be trusted. Those are the moments I act on what I know rather than what I feel. By doing this consistently, I have found 100% of the time my life improved, the tough times passed and sooner rather than later, my feelings caught up to my reality.

      I don’t mean to imply that any of this is easy. It’s work! It’s cultivating awareness and developing tools. It’s the slow and consistent growth that is derived for facing what I don’t want to face and occasionally doing what I don’t want to do. It’s accepting that there are times that I am going to be uncomfortable and being okay with that. It’s recognizing that it ok to need help on occasion and that there will never be a time when I have all the answers. 

     Adapting to life is a skill and like any skill it requires practice and it will be tested. If I am honest with myself, underneath all the emotional chaos that occasionally rears its ugly head, I would not want it any other way. I don’t want a life that doesn’t challenge me from time to time. When all else fails, I go back to the wise words of that great sage, Yoda. Do or do not. There is no try.

Corey Anne Rotella co-authored the book CNA Edge: Reflections from year one along with Bob Goddard and Hannah Hedges. It’s collection of essays from their blog CNA Edge: A Voice from the trenches of Long Term Care