I feel deflated. My friend Mickie just had a stroke yesterday, and we don't know how she's faring. My kids' godmother is doing the one day at a time slog through a nasty recovery from initial breast cancer surgery. She may need more surgery. She keeps plugging away. My friend's father-in-law died this week. ugh

With all that, at least I'm glad Zach had a reasonable first day at his job. The idea of being there for 14 hours is staggering. How on earth do you get up in the morning after only getting home at 10:20 pm? To do that three days in a row?

Francie sounded busy but not really happy - still a bunch of stress in the relationship I think. Sonds like Emma has found someone special.

Wish I had some happy news.

I am enjoying my classes at Regis, but I do wonder if I should've considered social work? How is it really different? I do like work in hospice care and hope that is the direction that I will go. I dread the reality that eventually I will suffer a loss that will cause me paralyzing grief. I need to find time to get back to my own counselor, so I can keep in touch with my inner self.

The introduction to the library was shocking last night. To access so many journals and articles is overwhelming. I just want what I can see. I better start figuring out what type of therapy to research so I can get on board with all the searching.

As much as I hate that Ricki is going through the pain and fear and uncertainty that she is, I do love reading her blog. It's honest and well-written and touching and real. She was born to write columns.

musing

Friends are starting the second chapter of their lives. Fascinating thought.

Haven't posted for a while.

Today I heard a survivor from the Bielski Partisans group speak to a group of teenagers in Denver. When the kids weren't behaving, I just wanted to shake them. Still, the teachers stood like guards in the aisles, waiting for misbehavior. What's wrong with this picture? I guess I'm too old; I feel like there should be swift accountability for rudeness.

In any case, Paula Burger was delightful and warm, and her story of survival is about as human as you can get. She wasn't special then, she just was lucky. But she shared the sentiment that those that got sick and died were also considered lucky, as they didn't have to wonder when their time would be up. As a child, she was perhaps more resilent than others. Could I have survived the cold, deprivation, hunger and fear? When I was younger, I was sure I would have fought to stay alive with all my being. Now that I'm older, I don't know how much I could take before I gave up. Her courage comes through now, though, in talking about her traumas and losses and sharing the horror of the time with others who who otherwise never know or understand. The Holocaust has always seemed to be bound up in my being - although I never had direct contact with survivors and my folks never talked about it at home. It's in my DNA. I wish I knew that my kids inherited that.

Feeling a little frustrated. Much is going on here - decisions being made that will impact me, but I'm not included in the planning. Trying to figure out how this will impact the work I am expected to do.

My first blog!

This is exciting, intimidating, dumb, and anxiety-producing. Ah, but the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Why start a blog? Who wants to read about me? Maybe this will be my voyage of discovery, or perhaps musings of how I've become who I am. I don't yet know what direction these entries will take, but here I go...