A tempest in a teacup — that’s what my aunt would have called it. Much ado about nothing.
However, instead of being able to sit in gratitude and relief — I find myself feeling embarrassed and guilt-ridden.
This is the yin/yang of emotions I feel as I ponder the events of the last few weeks.
To begin with, I’m so sorry I caused my children to worry. This part is most distressing to me.
I also regret causing my friends’ concern, disturbing their sleep, and their schedules. All for naught it seems.
I deeply wish I hadn’t shared my saga with anyone I work with. Note to self: just let them call a code if they have to. I probably won’t care at that point anyway.
Although, my boss seems glad to hear I am ok. Staffing — always worrisome to nurse managers. But to be fair, I think she might truly like me.
As I review all the steps which lead up to the moment when I was told the build-up to A Something was in fact, just a Big Fat Nothing — I realize there wasn’t any other path I could have/should have taken.
I was also so relieved. So Thankful. It was all just a Big Fat Nothing.
A mere 24 hours later — everything’s changed.
Now — I feel like I was a pain in the ass to everyone I brought into the loop. Like I cashed in chips I shouldn’t have. Like I should have waited until I knew more before I sought support. Like I should have just ‘Womaned Up’ and not bothered anyone until I actually REALLY needed someone.
What is it that turned my initial wave of joy into guilt? What turned relief into embarrassment? What makes it hard for me to shake this Drama Queen vibe?
Is it a woman thing? A nurse thing? A mom thing? All of the above?
Or is it just me? I was scared. I was vulnerable. And I gotta tell you — I hate everything about those two things. Every. Single. Thing.
But part of me thinks I should have just stayed afloat on The River Denial for a bit longer. Perhaps I hit the panic button a bit too soon.
But then again — what is the socially acceptable time frame to call in the troops and alert the media when shit is hitting the fan? Or potential shit?
When you’re a couple — there’s a team approach, you have someone to confer with about these matters. You have a driver, someone to help you decide when and what to tell your kids and your boss, you can depend less upon the largess of your friends.
I am not a couple. I am a single. So the timing for sending out an S.O.S. is completely my call.
What I learned this time is that I have a lot to learn when it comes to making that call.
This go-round was just a drill.
In the fairy tale, the shepherd boy gets to cry, “Wolf!” three times before the villagers abandon him to his fate. I still have two more sightings left before I’m in real trouble. I plan to use them with much greater prudence in the future.