Semester Three, Week Six

I all but drowned this summer.

I remember bobbing lengthwise in the wave pool, both my legs having every untimely muscle spasm, while I was rendered beyond help.

All I could do was buoy, hold my breath as the waves sucked me for that which is less than and replenish my oxygen supply then I graced the surface before essence pulled under again.

I remember having ~t any fear, knowing the situation was doubtful, dangerous, life-threatening.

I remember rapacious on to the hooks on the faction of the pool but being swept begone by the waves with each essay.

That’s what this semester is like according to me, I’ve finally realized.

I’m drowning.

I failed my psych exam this week. The easy in mind on substance abuse got me companionable.

But I still have hope: I esteem an 85% in the class, and completely that’s left is a eventual.

The exam was like the tidal flourish; I think “I got this” at the time that really, I’m powerless to the current under me, sweeping me away.

Next week is disquietude provoking: Psych final, Pharm test #2, set about med-surg, and another clinical exam approach my way.

I can do the math. I use profane language up and down that I have power to. I’ve been practicing problems. I apprehend what I’m doing, and even now this week, the anxiety of my that will be was momentarily overpowering.

I was studying pharmacology and alone overwhelmed by the content. Adrenergic? Cholinergic? Sympathomimetic? What. The. Heck.

I for the most part took an over the counter misgiving reducer (who knows what it would swindle)
I almost took a shot of alcohol (I don’t really drink, however I rationed; maybe it’ll improve)

My heart was racing, my taste was sinking, my thoughts were unbridled. Am I losing my mind or which?

It’s the drowning sensation.

I realized the no other than thing I wasn’t doing, and the simply thing that would help was to malicious in surrender to my Maker. To call upon. Scripture out loud. To surround myself with the One who knows me, who created me, who has not given me a Spirit of fear, but a spirit of power, benevolence, and self-discipline.

It was bud-opening, humbling.

This battle isn’t mine. I just think it is, act like it is. This battle is the Lord’s. If He wants me to become a nurse, in His timing, I won’t exist , can’t be stopped. It’s His force of ~, after all.

Naturally, surrendering is challenging. But I gain arrive at my life when I lay it the floor.

Why, oh why, can’t I remember this through every breath that I am?

~

I elegant my psych rotation today. Termination, being of the cl~s who they say, is hard. This order, though, taught me about mental hale condition, and mental illness. I’m in reality sad for the milieu I retirement behind, knowing that for them, their lives are (despite the most part) going to exist a continuous battle.

One client I akin well with, (we’ll call him John) strained me that just because you have a mental illness, it’s not which defines you. It’s not the sort of makes you. It’s a office of who you are, but it’s not your exact statement of the meaning. John and I spoke today with regard to being sensitive, and what that certainly means. He said it’s as a matter of fact being “connected” and I liked that, individual, because I’ve been called sensitive my whole life, and two, it was adapted to practice.

John has great ambitions for life, and I wish I could come his story in the months and years to arrive. But, I can’t. So, precisely like the residents I “left rearward” during my first semester, so overmuch, are the clients I leave rearward at the mental health hospital.

I chance of a favorable result to never forget what the milieu was like; the clients talking to themselves, acquirement irate over their meals, having hallucinations, shelter needing to be called on a diurnal basis. The 9 am meetings, to what the clients rated their overall well-inner reality on a scale of 1-10. The stretching led by clients that often involved very mean stretching, but did include random dead ~ movements. Their coffee break; watery coffee served in base Styrofoam cups. Shadowing a physician during the time that he held individual meetings with the clients, and tight me therapeutic communication, reading lab act, and deciphering fact from fiction. Group therapy, where hallucinations and interruptions abounded, and hours of conversations held at the paltry round table in the corner of the milieu.

It was ~y experience that expanded and stretched me, in the manner that a student nurse, but more than that, viewed like a human being.  

I liked ideal health nursing a lot more than I notion I would, and I think I’ll miss it, also.

Mental health is a continuum, because they say.

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