I Am Not A Fire Hose

Everyone has a limit.

That place where you get to because nothing is going your way even though life ain't so bad, and you just need something, ANYTHING, to give.

I'm sitting there right now.

The eternal optimist in me is saying that everything will be just fine because it always is. It's saying that as long as you focus on being a good person who does things the right way that there is nothing your little heart should be worrying about. It's saying that there will always be bumps in the road and bad news, but that things are not as bad as the pulsing anxiety in your heart is telling you.

Though eternal, the optimist in me is not very large. She is easily overwhelmed by the pessimist who just knows that this could be the thing that finally breaks you.

My job is to worry about other people. It's to clean up messes for people.

At the end of the day, as far as my professional life goes, there is not a damn person to clean up messes for me. Not one.

And that's exhausting.

I am lucky to come home to a man who, though frequently irritated at how much of my life goes in to my work, still begrudgingly understands it and swoops in to save the day when I need him. Every time. He has never left me hanging. He never will. For all of the times that I have fallen short for him, he has never fallen short for me.

I am so thankful.

I am also so exhausted, worn out, and ready for something, ANYTHING, ANY ANY ANYTHING to give. I'm ready for my phone to stop ringing on weekends. I'm ready for patients to stop keeping me on the phone on my Sunday asking me the same question over and over while I try to enjoy my damn food. I'm ready for people to stop being vindictive and ready to pounce because they're addicts and all they care about is lying, cheating, stealing and drugs. I'm ready to stop getting spit on because when I say no to one of these people, I mean it.

No, I haven't actually been spit on, but it's pretty much the same thing.

I feel like my fire hose is running out of water.

I feel like this next fire might be the one that I just let burn.

Still, I know that tomorrow will be a better day.

It just has to be.


As always, it's hip to be square (I think...), kids.