10 days ago I said goodbye to the job that sustained my family, fed my soul and drained my energy reserves. I met and became friends with an amazing team of nurses and staff who took me in and treated me like I had always been there. I hugged so many families going through one of the toughest experiences of their lives, and each time you can believe I meant it. Long Term Care is a place filled with delicate tension, where you face death on a daily basis, but each time one of my residents passed, the shock of their passing was as real as any other.

Am I as afraid of death now? Not really. What I am more afraid of is deterioration of the body, becoming a shell, uncontrollable and seemingly vacant, locked away in sheaths of brain tissue. The death is actually beautiful in comparison to living. As I have witnessed, there is an immense power in giving in to it.

It seems as though I am on a constant journey to find meaning. Meaning in my suffering, in other’s suffering. Meaning in the place that I am. I’m not sure that it’s helpful to constantly be looking for it. I think a lot of the time I missed important gifts while I was searching for meaning. There certainly was lots of meaning to be found at work. Residents that moved in who previously lived just down the road from me, or our families have met, the happenstances went on and on. I really, truly believed that I was supposed to be there because of those things.

As time went on, my body and spirit started to wane. Things were becoming more difficult at home, my children and husband needed me, but I had nothing left to give at the end of the day. I was unrecognizable to myself and to them. I started seeking out ways to exit, but no doors were opening. Finally, one night as I was saying goodbye to my friend after a cherished gathering I said, “ I think the reason no doors are opening is because there is one open and I have my back turned to it.”

LIGHTBULB.

Walking into doors that were locked because they weren’t mine. Walking into doors instead of walking through the one that was waiting for me. There are so many practicalities to the door that I just closed. Stability, Benefits, RRSP contributions, and the praise from my co-workers. The stability in a lot of ways was de-stabilizing for me, for us as a family. The instability is not the monster. The monster is the ground that does not move, that has no life, that doesn’t feed our souls. The stable ground fees like it can be pulled out from under us at any moment. And so, I walk on the shifting sands, and it’s soft beneath my feet again. It makes me stronger and resilient, it praises me when I get through it, and trips me when I need to rest.

This is my announcement, my proclamation. I am back. I have returned. But I am not the same. I am new.