i can't believe i haven't written anything since december.

i think about writing often, but there's never time or energy to do it.

in january, after two months of low patient census at my regular job, i got a second job. it's quite different than typical home health, in that the average patient age is 41, we do not accept medicare, and the patient diagnosis are all neurological.
it feels like a good fit.
i've always enjoyed neuro. it feels like what therapy was originally intended for. getting people back to function. bringing back things that were lost. with orthopedic patients, i can prescribe exercises, and they can either do them or not. progress forward or not. with general medical, we can advise exercise, better diet, better habits and safety, and they basically ignore us. with neuro, people tend to be highly motivated. they've lost a lot of function due to stroke, spinal cord injury, traumatic brain injury, etc. they want to regain the ability to work and play. this agency is especially unique in that we specialize in getting the patient OUT of the house and back into the community, meaning we actually do therapy away from home. if the patient likes to fish, we go fishing. last week i went to a history of flight museum. we practiced balance, walking, talking, processing, etc. i loved it.

that's work. and i'm still working for the other agency at the same time, which keeps me going all the time.

i know why i'm doing this. obviously the extra money is nice. we'll have two teenagers driving soon, so there's the insurance, etc. but i simply can't sit around and worry. i'm trying to create that distance with the kids, because the worry is starting to kill me. the transition from teen to "adult" has proven painful and difficult. i'm not good at letting go. i know why. try as i have, i seem to be anchored to a deep fear of losing a child. i have done deep trauma therapy, years of talk therapy, etc. it always helps, but the physical trauma, the going through it. that's what has stuck with me. the mental process and grief has been done and done again. there's something i can't explain. it's the realization that horrible, shocking things can and DO happen, and we have zero control over them. they impact everything in our lives. everything. from how quickly i anger, to how quickly i trust a new friend. i still jump at loud sounds. i still get angry when the room is too loud and too much is going on.

anyway.

so i'm pretty far from focusing on the kind of self care that requires quiet solitude. i'm trying to recreate a life for ME that doesn't revolve around them. and in doing that, i'm busy. i'm not saying it's the best way, i just don't know how else to do it. long stretches of quiet solitude usually lead me to worrying about things i have no control over. and worry makes me miserable.

we are living in weird times, aren't we? i don't know what will happen with work / school / coronavirus. i can't imagine we'll be encouraged to keep seeing patients for much longer.

we'll see.

anyway.

till next time.