I think we can all agree a vacation is oftentimes a welcome escape from the rush of life. We like to unplug, kick back, put our feet up and unwind in an effort to restore our minds and bodies before returning to that hectic melee that life can oftentimes feel like. What do you do if you want to take a vacation from your brain, though? Oh, I’m sure there are actual suggestions, but let’s assume this is rhetorical.
This is a struggle I face every day, especially when my head hits the pillow. My husband turns off his lamp, I turn off mine, we nestle into our pillows under wonderfully warm blankets, and I hope sleep will greet him with open arms. Most nights it eludes me, though. My head hitting the pillow seems to jar my brain, because it gets its second wind and begins chattering a mile a minute about everything under the sun. Left to its own devices, my brain bunny trails into dark tunnels. It digs up past hurt, kicks failures and dirt in my face, burrowing deep into bitterness, fear, and sadness. This leaves me wide awake, overcome with anger, anxiety, and nursing ripped open wounds.
In reflecting on the state of my thoughts, I felt a tug on my heart to do something out of my comfort zone. In fact, God told practically told me to learn a new language. Negativity is my native tongue; I am fluent. I can rattle off wrongs done to me with so much venom you would think some of it had happened that day, not ten to twenty years ago. Name any exciting event from my life and I can tell you why that memory is tainted. The list of people I hold grudges against, both great and small, is shamefully long (and includes myself). These are the things my brain defaults to. It’s no wonder I feel overwhelmed and distracted most of the time, because I have spent the better part of twenty or so years trying to distract myself from life.
This brings me back to the whole stepping-out-of-my-comfort-zone deal. I am going to begin sharing stories about the people who have been a positive influence in my life. I kept shrugging the idea off, but my husband encouraged me to sit down and follow through with it, so here I am. My hope is that this exercise will not only retrain my brain to focus on the good in my life, but that it will serve as an encouragement to those who read it. Also, may it remind us that our actions, even just a smile, can speak volumes to someone in the midst of a storm. We have good days and bad days, granted, but try not to let your dark cloud become someone else’s downpour.
I have struggled with what story to share first because, as I said, this is a difficult undertaking for me. It is hard to look at most memories without a twinge of regret, pain, anger, or triggering anxiety. However, one person has come to mind again and again as an example of a ray of sunlight that stood out, so I will start with her.
A little over seven years ago I was in a hospital bed, impatiently awaiting the birth of my first child. I had been admitted the afternoon prior to get my induction started. My baby girl was not in any hurry to greet the world, nor was my body in any rush to evict her. I know there are some people who think childbirth is a beautiful thing, and I do not begrudge them this opinion. That is great! I felt like the process was anything but beautiful but I will spare you the details. What I did note was the pure joy of the student nurse shadowing the nurse who was charged with checking on me throughout the day.
I do not remember her name, but I recall she was young, with her blonde hair pulled up in a ponytail. It was her first time being a part of a birth, and you could tell from the excitement she was having difficulty containing. It was all new and thrilling for her, which made it a little easier to endure all the uncomfortable poking and prodding that goes along with waiting for active labor.
Not long after my epidural, I felt a great deal of pressure and even a little pain, so we brought the nurse in. All my waiting my family members knew the drill by this point and left the room, save for my husband, so the nurse could see how much I was dilated. She had checked throughout the day, but this time was different. She smiled and motioned to the student nurse to check as well. Anytime she did something, she made sure it was okay with me first, and this time was no different. I consented and her face lit up, she turned to her superior and asked, “Is that…?”
“Yup, that’s the head,” the nurse announced. She told me we were ready to begin. Then the room was abuzz, getting everything right where it needed to be, and propping me up. The student nurse stood by like a wide-eyed child, full of joy. She didn’t seem sure of what to do with herself, so she wet a cloth and put it on my forehead. Every time I had to sit up and push it would fall off, but she would faithfully put it back on when I laid down again. After awhile she realized her efforts, while sweet, were futile, and moved on to other tasks. Trying to bring a tiny baby into the world took my focus for a time, but I do remember her clasping her hands with happiness when my daughter’s cries finally filled the room.
I don’t know where that woman is now. Maybe she’s still in Florida, maybe she found a job elsewhere. Wherever she is, I hope she is not so jaded that she has forgotten that wide-eyed wonder at the miracle of birth. Demonstrating enthusiasm in whatever you do may just be the ray of sun to someone else’s rain cloud.
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