Perspective Changes Our View.

This week I've been very blessed to have some lessons that taught me how important it is to focus on the perspective of life's events. Many times we get so caught up in our vortex of struggle that we take a "woe is me" and "why the hell does this have to happen" and we forget that EVERYTHING in our life happens with purpose and perspective.  In the grand scheme of things, events that we may deem catastrophic or life-altering are probably that way, in our eyes. so that our path and our brain gets the remodel that it needs.  I have to remind myself that I am in the thick of the story, between my "once upon a time" and "happily ever after", and it may seem like the story will never end, but I'm actually creating a sub-plot of grand proportions that will still change me if I will let it.

One of the greatest blessings in my life are my friends.  I have stellar friends all over the country.  During my latest bump in the road of life, I've been strengthened by so many in their own way.  Notes in the mail, private messages on Facebook, phone conversations for HOURS where I do most of the talking and they do the listening and encouraging.  This keeps me going.  One friend in particular has given me such strength and I wanted to share her story with all of you.  I asked for her permission and due to the nature of her employment, she will remain nameless.  A couple of weeks ago, she experienced something in her job that was LIFE CHANGING for her and it brought a perspective that altered her outlook.  It was so "catastrophic" that she wrote about it and sent it to her mother.  Because of the magnitude of my bumpy reality, she knew I would appreciate this story and chose to share it with me as well.  It is not for the weak of heart, a real life "Grey's Anatomy" scene, but is powerful and I asked if I could feature it on my blog.  Her words are filled with faith in life and faith in God and yet her life is still not perfect.  However, she keeps perspective at the forefront of her life and because of that she blesses those around her, including me, with a deep appreciation for the sanctity, simplicity and delicacy of life.  Thank you dear friend, for sharing this with me and letting me share it with the world.

Journal Entry dated 9 April 2016

"I’ve been told that when a crisis hits, I will know what to do, that I will surprise myself and do better than I think. “You’ve been trained. You know what to do. It will come naturally.”

Right…

I’ve always thought that this was a bunch of bunk. When moderate crisis have hit at the hospital, I have found myself struggling with suppressing my own emotions, with hands shaking so violently that I can barely use them, and a brain that seems to screech to a halt. It takes all of my energy to keep from crying as I feel, much too deeply, what the family might be feeling.

I don’t want to be the family member being whooshed from the room while a flock of medical people come crashing in to save the day. It just seems too dramatic, too intense…too real.

Before I left for work yesterday, I took a moment to pray. “Heavenly Father, please help me to have a good day. Please help me to know what to do. Please help me to find someone to serve.” I had a good day, (Check!) I knew what to do, (Double check!), and I’m pretty sure I served someone who needed me. I’m just not exactly sure who that person was.

“Code Blue, CT. Code Blue, CT. Code Blue, CT.” paged loud overhead for all to hear. By the tone of the overhead page it was clear that this was not a drill.

I walked out of the break room and asked “Who’s the Team Lead today?”

“You are.”

“I am? Oh shit.” (Yes, I really did say this….sorry!)

I grabbed our heavy crash cart, stocked full of life saving supplies, and pushed it as fast as I could down the long corridor. The closer I got to the CT room, the more my heart started to pound. I was worried that my brain would screech to a halt and that I wouldn’t know what to do. So I paused. Well, at least my brain paused, as I rushed down the hallway.

“Heavenly Father, this is the real deal. I am in charge, and I need your help. Please help me to be calm. Please help me to know what to do.  Please help me to do my job. I’ve never done this before!”

Overwhelming peace and clarity instantly filled my body. My hands did not shake.
My brain did not falter.  I knew I was prepared, well, at least as prepared as one can ever be. I felt relaxed. Really relaxed.

It’s a hard thing, walking into a room, with a man laying on a table, his face so blue that it is nearly black. Doctors counting out the rhythm as they pound on his chest, “one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight...” It’s a hard thing to see the blood pooling in his mouth, blood pooling on his chest as doctors race to put in chest tubes, and watching the respiratory crew struggle to help him to breath with blood gushing out of his breathing tubes. And it’s a hard thing to know that through this all, even with two doctors and two anesthesia providers in the room, I am in charge.

I have never done this before.

My mind has been thinking about this scenario over and over, trying to make sense of things. It isn’t the blood that spattered the wall, the compressions that crushed his ribs, the “Everyone CLEAR! Shocking the patient in three, two, one!” that I had to call out, or the “Resume compressions!” that I’ve been mulling over.  It isn’t seeing the wife’s face as she calmly came in to touch her husband and say a brief prayer before his barely alive body was shipped to the ICU that I’ve been thinking about. Or her calm face as she thanked each one of us, almost individually, before walking away. It certainly hasn’t been the unusual way this code had to proceed due to the individual circumstances that lead to this man’s unfortunate day. And it hasn’t been the bloody footprints that we left in the room after everything had been cleaned, the final bit of evidence to our attempts at saving his life.

My mind can’t stop wondering about my reaction to it all. Why do I feel so calm?

Why am I not a basket case? I’ve been mulling it over in my mind, around and around, because I am worried that something is wrong with me. Shouldn’t I be devastated? Shouldn’t I cry, even a little? Shouldn’t I be a little bit traumatized? A wife just saw her husband’s unconscious body be taken to the ICU, know that this is probably it, as in the “It”, “The end”, or as I like to call it the “See you laters”.  Hollywood couldn’t have made the scene any more dramatic than it was.

Did he survive? Did he live?

That is the question that everyone asks. It wasn’t until becoming a nurse that I realized that “Did he survive?” and “Did he live?” have many layers and nuances. It’s like shades of a color. Is turquoise still blue? Yes, but not exactly.

So to answer the question, yes, he survived, at least at time of transport. His heart was beating. He was maintaining his blood pressure. He was even trying, in a small way, to breath on his own. His skin had even returned to a much more comfortable shade of pale pink. Was he alive? Yes. Is he alive?

I don’t know if he will ever leave the hospital. I don’t know if he will ever be able to hug his wife in this life. I don’t know if he will ever go home with his family. But I do know that he lives! No matter what happens to his body, his spirit is still alive.

And now as I write this, the tears suddenly fall.

Administration patted me on the back telling me “That was one of the best codes we have seen,” and were shocked when I told them that this was my first (I did see CPR one other time).  My other code team members said “Wow. You were so calm. You are an amazing team leader. You should run all of our codes.” and “You sounded and looked like you have run a hundred codes” when I confessed that this was my first.

Why was it that I was so calm? That I was able to very competently do my job, despite the horrific scene in front of me? A co-worker quietly asked me later that night, “Did you feel the help from the other side in the room with us? There were a lot of [heavenly] helpers in there.” It wasn’t until that moment that I realized the magnitude of help we had been given. I asked that morning to find someone to serve, not expecting to be the one served, but for that, I am feeling eternally grateful."

The moral of the story: No matter how hard life gets, keep perspective. Perspective will keep us breathing and facing our challenges with a miraculous sense of peace and calm.  I know it, my friend knows it and I hope that you can find it for you when you need it most.

Until next time, my lovelies!
-R

Be sure to check out the biz side of "Let It Be & Celebrate" by visiting www.beyoudesignsut.co

Anniversary.

I was sick for the majority of this week so I haven't quite caught up in normal life which really means I've been wracking my brain to think of this week's blog subject. And then it hit me, my fabulous little Instagram feed hit the one year anniversary point. Almost like a whirlwind first year of marriage... So fabulous yet so damn turbulent that I couldn't forget about it even if I tried.  And so here I am with a sappy recap. Ha! Just kidding.... We all know I hate sappy. So let's go with sassy and a bit jaded. Yes, perfect. 

For those of you who have recently discovered the random musings of beYOUdesignsut, you most likely don't know that it really started out as an experiment.  In my former career I was a small business banker and almost every meeting I had with clients the subject of social media would come up. Naturally, me being a woman of 25... I mean 30-something, my clients generally assumed I was a SM (social media) expert. Well, not really. I had a private Facebook page and a private Instagram page, but for the most part I kept it pretty simple. And all the nonsense about hashtags and "at" signs were just that: nonsense.  At the same time I had a number of people that would consistently ask me about my outfits and where I bought them and how I came up with them, etc.  And certainly last but not least I was pretty sick and tired of seeing all these websites and IG feeds with rail-thin chicks who you know are mostly air brushed and sans personality and making those of us with curves and flab in all the wrong places feel like shit.  And then the experiment was born. 

In the beginning it really was all about the fashion. I made a few idea boards and then would post my personal outfits. The picture above reflects some of my first posts (minus the bottom right photo).  It was a really good coping mechanism for me as well because I was going through some rough emotions due to some failing relationships and my job was turning out to be hell on earth. Everything was happening for a reason. 

I had NO IDEA how blessed and watched over I would soon become because of this little experiment. One day I stumbled on an absolutely incredible declaration of a gorgeous woman in the UK who, with IG as her witness, made the promise that she wasn't going to let the looming thoughts of self-hurt win the battle and that she was going to overcome her struggles. I tear up just thinking about it because it was powerful. So powerful that I sent her a message and we are now the dearest of friends and we are international sisters. My Lottie. She was because of a hashtag search. 

And then there were my kiwi girls. I don't really know how we all found each other, but I know that it was absolutely no coincidence. These brave, beautiful, snarky and incredible women are fighting the vicious battle that is eating disorders. Oh how much I have learned from each of them and I am truly amazed at their courage and sass and ninja skills in a world that is just downright terrifying.  

And remember how this was all about the FASHION? 

Then one day I found Simone. A stylish instagram shop owner who became an instant friend because of her infectious love of thrifting and a long list of other things. She is by far one of the most creative women I have met in all of this. And she is an incredible mom, even though I know she thinks she's not on most days. 

And remember how this was an EXPERIMENT?

Throughout all of this I found that I was not only changing the shift of thinking for a few, but I was healing and mending too! Because believe it or not my self esteem has taken a beating a time or two or ten. It is NOT easy being a woman in Utah. Ugh. Let's not get on THAT tangent. But, I was also dealing with some unresolved mourning and the journey with that alone went hand-in-hand with my "experiment." 

In February I decided to do a fashion feature during the week of Valentine's Day about loving the body type you were given and how to dress it to flatter it, not to hide it. In the midst of all of this I found my dear friend April. She is an Ogdenite extraordinaire and a true foodie and a fighter of fights that need no explanation. I absolutely adore her and her little family. They have become dear friends who I appreciate so much. And her husband may have been the final straw of convincing me to learn to ski this year by his compelling sales pitch for the learner's deal at Snow Basin. Damn him and his sweet sales skills. 

There are so many things that I have learned in the last year. But I think the one thing I've learned the most is this: there is not a single damn one of us who is not fighting a daily battle of some kind. And if you think you aren't then look in the mirror and have a serious chat with yourself. Additionally, our nationality, religion, sexual preference, marital status, number of children, number of shoes we own or fancy purses we hoard does NOT define us. What defines us is the beating heart in our chest, the lungs that breathe the air around us, the brain that thinks and the two feet that carries us to our next destination. We all still want the same things: to be loved, revered and respected. 

God be with each of you who have made it to the end of this post. You are not alone. Fear not to be YOU.  And if your biggest fear is saying I love you to the one who you've loved for months, don't worry....you're not alone. I promise. I understand. 

The moral of the story: everything happens for a reason. And thank God for that.

Until next time, my lovelies.

-R