Now that I have the job at Grey-Sloan lined up and have graduated Nursing School — though still awaiting the license exam — I’m finding myself entering a new phase of life. And I want that life to be better than the one I’m leaving behind.
My brother’s wife pointed out to me that I have, in essence, reinvented myself in these last few years, and that is definitely something to be proud of. It’s true. And it’s surprising how, despite being a game of semantics, a turn of phrase can change a person’s whole outlook on something.
So moving forward, I have a three-phase plan for life improvement so that my reinvention might be better positioned.
- Moving on from Bob. I know, I know we all knew that had to happen sometime. So why is this different? The other day, when I got the news that my background check cleared and I was good-to-go for Grey-Sloan, my very first thought (despite myself) was to text Bob to share the news. Then my brain did something surprising: it called me on it. “You’re not a couple anymore!” My brain screamed so loudly I could hear it in my ears drowning out all other thoughts. That made sense. All the logic, all the therapy, all the deep conversations I’ve had with myself on how I need to just let Bob be part of the past and all it really took was, “you’re not a couple anymore” to make me realize how sick and pathetic I am acting. If this was a movie, I would not look like a sensible, caring person. I’d look like a pathetic loser stuck on her old boyfriend.
- Getting my weight under control. It is long past time I deal with my obesity issue and the occasion is now. I have found myself shamed into slowly transitioning into a better pattern of eating. Less comfort-related eating and trying to concentrate on reducing sugar and salty foods first. It feels like an important shift — not explainable any other way except that I am now standing on the precipice of a new way of life, incompatible with being this fat. Something must be done.
- Tidying up my environment. I have lived too long in a pig sty. It’s hard to find the energy to clean when I’m this heavy, but I’ve come up with a plan. A significant chunk of cleaning each day until it’s complete. Can I do it? Don’t know. But I know I have to try if all of this is going to come about.
Because this is the thing: the life I want is not compatible with living the way I have been. I can’t be fat. I can’t be a wreck. I can’t be stuck on some alcoholic loser who doesn’t love me. If this life is going to live up to the hype, I’ve gotta make it heroically spectacular.
They thought I would never survive the overdose. I survived.
They said I couldn’t stay clean. I stayed.
They said it was foolish to go back to school as an older person. I did it.
They thought I’d never graduate with my second degree. I did.
They said I couldn’t make it working a crappy part-time minimum wage job. I made it.
They said I’d never get a job as a nurse due to my history. I got it.
I have survived so many things. To do all these things, I paid a price, I sacrificed a lot, and I didn’t always do it with grace (and how!), but I did it. I wasn’t always confident that I would make it, but I managed despite everything they threw at me, including death. I may not be many things, but I am persistent. Resilient. So now I get to go back and clean up the messes I made. Gotta lose weight, clean up, and dump the loser.
Stay tuned. This might get ugly.
“till the bridge you will need be formed, till the ductile anchor hold,/ till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, o my soul.” — Walt Whitman
Mad Margaret Diaries 
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