The feeling of impending doom has haunted me for the last few days, and we haven’t even seen the worst of it. Yet. We haven’t seen the horror that places like Italy and New Orleans are currently experiencing. Doctors in Italy choosing who gets to live, who gets to die, bringing us back to what feels like Civil War days. I can imagine it’s something like the movies. I couldn’t imagine experiencing that, but even though I’ve yet to experience the doom doesn’t make it easier for the small town respiratory therapist who feels like she’s awaiting the battle.
The racing thoughts won’t silence. All the questions fill my head over and over again, day after day, in the morning, in the evening, when I open my eyes, before I fall asleep. There they are, these thoughts sitting on my chest nagging. The constant nagging won’t let up, and I hate it.
When will it stop?
Will it ever stop?
When will life feel “normal” again?
Will it ever feel “normal” again?
I just wanna see my mama, my three month old godchild who’s changing .. everyday.. my daddy, and nana. I’m missing things.
Is that so wrong to want to see the people you love? For me, but more importantly for them I’ve got to stay away.
Will today be the day though?
Will today be the day I catch it?
Will today be the day I bring it home?
There have been so many deaths, so much suffering. I know it’s a part of our fallen world. I know this. Times like these are in the Bible. I. Know. This. BUT it doesn’t make it easier.
Suffering, at least for me, will never become an easy thing for me to see. Never.
My heart physically aches. It aches so much so anxiety takes hold of me and it feels like it’s going to squeeze the life right out of me. Sometimes I think it’ll win. Death by anxiety, but I know anxiety never wins. Jesus takes this victory here.
Even still. In this moment. I can’t breathe. 10…9…8…7… breathe Hannah. Dang it. Breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Practice what you preach, sister. It’s time.
B. R. E. A. T. H. E.
Jesus is for you. Jesus is for you. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus.
Thinking about it though, always thinking about it, the reality here is people are dying alone in hospital rooms with no family members in sight because they’re restricted from entering.
Can you imagine dying alone?
Oh gosh. I don’t want to die alone.
Can you even imagine not being able to say goodbye to your lover, your mother, your friend?
Can you imagine not being able to hold your loved one’s hand as they leave this world and enter another?
I can’t imagine it, really. I’m not even sure I can stomach it.
Why did I choose this career?
Or rather why did it choose me?
For the love of all things holy why did it choose me? God are you there?
Was I made for such a time as this? I’m not even sure at this point. Real honest. Raw truth. I’m not even sure. I was so sure though. I was so sure I was made for this, but now …
I don’t know.
I don’t know if this was meant for me. It hurts too damn much.
God are you even there?
Are you even listening?
This deep, gut-wrenching feeling of dread washes over me before shifts.
The anxiety takes hold. My chest is tight.
I cry.
I drag my feet.
Woah is me.
Do I have to get out of bed?
Snooze … snooze… crap. I can’t hit snooze again. I’ve got to get up.
My stomach is in knots.
Truthfully, I’m envious of everyone who gets to stay home in their safe space in this pandemic. The green jealousy monster is there, and she’s ugly.
I repeat. She’s there, and she’s ugly.
BUT, this career chose me, and ..
I get up and brave the day because bravery is what I was taught. Courage was instilled in me.
I was taught to not back down.
I was taught to show up. To. Always. Show. Up.
And truth be told, scared or not, I will always show up.
** Thanks mom and dad. You raised a warrior.**
Honestly though, I’m trying to stand, stand brave ready for the battle on the frontlines, but I can’t promise I’ll do it every day with a smile on my face.
I can’t promise I won’t have a breakdown or two.
I can’t lie and tell you I’m not scared because, friend, I’m scared.
I’m not scared I’ll catch it. I’m not scared for myself.
I’m scared for my family, for the people I love dearly. For my fragile, beautiful Nana, my wonderful Papa battling cancer, my friends, my parents, my siblings, my three month old godchild. That’s why I’m scared.
I’m scared for our economy.
I’m scared for the healthcare system.
I’m scared of what this pandemic will bring to our communities.
So, be patient with me.
As your friend, your daughter, your lover, your coworker, your respiratory therapist …
Be patient with me.
Most importantly though, pray.
Pray for my coworkers.
Pray for all frontline staff, your grocery store employees, emergency personnel, food chain workers. Pray. Pray for their families.
This time is taxing on us mentally, physically, and spiritually. We’re taken away from our corners of the world to do what we do. Take care of others, and you better believe we will show up.
But pray.
Pray for those directly affected. Those dying, suffering alone.
Pray for those forced to grieve without a goodbye.
Pray for the brides who have watched their wedding dreams slip between their fingers.
Pray for the mothers giving birth. The mothers who are expecting.
The immunocompromised.
The elderly. The elderly who have no one to pick up groceries for them.
Pray.
Pray for our country. Pray for our world, our leaders.
Once you’re prayed up, do me a favor. If you can stay home… STAY. HOME.
For all things holy and good stay the hell home.
And when you’re there in the quiet of your own home, sitting on your back porch with a coffee in hand promise me something. Promise me you’ll soak it all in.
Promise me you’ll soak it all in for those of us who can’t.
Soak up every single moment.
Promise me you’ll soak it up.
Soak up your children’s laughter. Soak up the frustration of trying to get them to sit still to do their homework. When they don’t understand carry the 1, soak it up. Soak up the mornings you get to spend with those you love. Soak up the lazy afternoons.
Promise me you’ll make this time count.
Promise me you’ll soak it up.
Promise me.
Love, your small town RT
Beautifully Wrecked & Gracefully Broken 