My life came to a screeching halt On July 29th of this year. Not literally, of course, but for those who know me very, very well, it was no surprise to hear of my utter devastation when the news was given. And, no, I won't go into it here - there are some things that hurt too badly, cut too deep, and will probably never be recovered from.
The wound is so deep this Warrior has not cried; the tears are frozen in timelessness. I have no idea when or what event will make that happen. It will when it will.
The regular beat of my heart, the inhalations and exhalations continue of their own volition as promises I've made not to die at my own hand will be kept. Besides, there are a few people who would eventually meet me on the other side and beat the living hell out of me for doing so and I'm not particularly fond of thinking of future beatings.
So, I've kept quiet, laid low, mourned constantly while keeping "the face" everyone expects me to, for who would begin to think that I'd be anything other than logical and calm in the face of adversity?
Eventually, even desolation can begin to lighten when the right combination of events comes along. Prayer, angry bar-rattling of the Gates of Heaven (or Hell?) eventually comes around to everyone's turn. And, I think sometimes They take pity on the pathetic.
I'd been thinking about going back to school for awhile. As much as I enjoy teaching, and will continue to do so when I can, watching many of my co-workers furthering their education beckoned to me like a moth to flame.
I talked to my community college director in charge of EMS about beginning training, eventually to Paramedic. I talked to Ambulance Driver about how I could be utilized in the medical setting as a Paramedic in the ETC or general hospital setting. Both men were encouraging. Then I made the mistake of looking at starting pay for a Paramedic around here and the wages are...in a word...horrific. I make more money than they do, these brave men and women who actually SAVE lives.
It was back to square one. I was even more saddened, adrift in a pool of misery. I couldn't even write; not even angst-ridden poetry like a teenager. I began curling into a ball in my bed, staring at the wall, sleeping little, eating more and showing it on the scale. I quit talking to my kids and grandkids. My own pathetic company was best and that was enough to make me rethink promises.
Life consisted of three hours of sleep a night, wake up, go to work, drink far too much coffee, eat junk, and do what was necessary to "get by". The census was so low at work I finally packed my knitting and a book in my bag and eventually pulled the book out and read when things were slow.
The book was research for a character I'd been trying to develop for a story. In spite of myself, I became interested in the subject.
A part of it made me dig deep into where I began my journey on the Pagan path. I began stepping from one stepping stone to another, finally remembering my days as a massage therapist.
From that came idle research on the 'Net; nothing in particular, just looking around, checking out various modalities I'd gotten CEU's for in those days, seeing what changes had come about in the field.
And, I found out one of the best Reflexology Schools in the US was less than 30 miles away from me. I didn't know it existed. They've kept a tremendously low profile, purposefully. But, I figured, what good would that do anyway? I have to work, I still have teaching to do in the future. I can't exhaust myself like I did these last few months. I can't push myself like that anymore - give up things important to me for the benefit of others and leave nothing for myself. And, that, too, was depressing. But, I kept returning to the website and looking at the home page. Once, twice, and then again. The magic of threes.
On the third time, I read further - I checked the cost. It wasn't unreasonable. The course was a certification course. It had far more "hours" for certification than any I'd seen before.
But, it still remained that I have to work. But, I figured I might as well know all the news about it as someone might ask someday if I knew about it.
And, I was shocked to find that this school has taken students into consideration for needing to lead a life, make a living. The course is done over five, three day intensive sessions. It takes about 14 months to complete.
So, I took the risk, wrote to the school with questions. Received a prompt return call from the owner/instructor. And after a great deal of thought, and a great deal of encouragement from answered prayers on what to do, I've found my own self back in school for the first intensive.
I walked into the classroom as a student yesterday, cracked open the textbooks and information packets and felt as though...I was home. I was HOME. It's not massage therapy; I cannot do the diagnostic work of my past without getting yet another national certification test under my belt. But, I took my turn in the exchange, and as I placed my hands on my "patient", my heart soared with delight because I was beginning my journey back from what was stolen from me in 1992.
I've enjoyed the last two days of class immensely; Of the nine in our group, my ego is fed on some level because I already *KNOW* this material inside and out. The anatomy instructor is so good I've already told her I'm stealing her methods for my own phlebotomy class next fall. It's a great review for me, and the basic routine is about 25% memorized. Once I have the routine, I can begin finessing it, finding my speed and rhythm. And, after the second intensive in November, I can, even as a student, begin to charge half-price for the work. I've gotten the glimmers of a dream of what kind of a business I want to open when I'm finished with this. Or, if I will be able to stay in hospital work as more hospitals begin to develop integrated care to utilze both holistic and scientific medicine.
So, the work is subtle, the work is about healing. And, it may begin to allow the healer some healing as well.
Kate
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