The promise of tomorrow

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Photo by Leon Biss on Unsplash

I try to live in My Now. Regretting the past and fearing the future is the surest way to completely derail Your Life. We have all done it — currently do it — will do it again.

But the gift of presence — paying attention to Our Now brings us into focus and keeps us grounded. And free.

Except — every now and then — when Our Now is just too full. Of All. The. Things.

Today I quietly shut down my computer and turned off my work cell. I placed them on my beautiful desk in my lovely den and pushed my chair back. I walked away from The Too Many.

One too many patients had died. One too many physicians had expected the impossible. One too many family members had melted down. On a day when my phone had never stopped ringing. So many needs to be met and not enough hours.

I had breakfast at 1:00 pm. That’s when I finished the last of my morning breakfast shake I had made around 10:00 am. My needs were not even allowed on the radar.

I stepped outside after shutting down. My body and soul longing for sunshine and fresh air. I walked around my neighborhood and stretch my psoas muscles and hip joints. All too stiff from too much time in front of my computer. I wave at stranger-neighbors and take deep breaths. I whisper softly — so no one else could even hear — the mantra I have used since COVID came to call — “Tomorrow will be a better day.”

I sat on my couch drank the tea — licorice with honey to soothe my aching throat. The place where my voice was supposed to be but wasn’t any longer. I whisper softly — so no one else could even hear — the mantra I have used since COVID came to call — “Tomorrow will be a better day.”

I pulled my body up my stairs and stood my shower. Hot water washed some of the stress out of my shoulders and neck. I turned the tap up until there was no hot water left. I whisper softly — so no one else could even hear — the mantra I have used since COVID came to call — “Tomorrow will be a better day.”

I laid on the floor — unable to even sit on my meditation cushion. Legs up the wall and arms stretched wide in complete surrender. I opened my mind to what healing might lay in the void. I whisper softly — so no one else could even hear — the mantra I have used since COVID came to call — “Tomorrow will be a better day.”

In nursing, it is always this way. No matter where you work. There is never enough of us. And always The Too Many who need care. And our name is always at the bottom of the list — if it makes it to the list at all.

But tonight — I did what I could to remember to take some care of myself. To be kind to myself. To walk off — to ease — to wash away — to release The Too Much as best I could. And to remember — “Tomorrow will be a better day.”

Namaste.

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