Today has been a good day. This weekend has been a good weekend.
Friday was amazing. It was my first day at my home clinic. The first day meeting the people who will soon be my new teammates. The first day meeting the patients I will be working with three days a week from now until the day they die or move or receive a transplant. The first day meeting my new supervisor; the fourth one I’ve ever had.
It was a good day. One which started at 3 am. I got to the clinic by 5 am. Traffic was non-existent which I was grateful for. I’m ok with early mornings for that fact. Everyone is still asleep. There’s a solitude that I enjoy that can’t be found any other time. A hush. A quiet which I thoroughly enjoy.
I was nervous. I explained to my trainer what I had been cleared to do. We agreed on what I was comfortable with doing. She showed me new things. She explained the layout of the floor for my clinic and how things are divided up between the team members. I learned how to make the needle packs for patients; how much gauze, which tape rolls, how many alcohol and iodine packs.
At the end when I asked my trainer how she felt I did she said I did better than she expected. I was allowed to string the machines and set them to prime and test the alarm systems and though I did make a few mistakes, with my trainer’s guidance I was able to correct them and in most instances, I was able to troubleshoot the issues on my own.
I was able to clean the chairs and machines once the patients were done. I like to think even though I asked a lot of questions that I helped my trainer out a little bit.
My supervisor is one of the kindest people I have met. There’s an aura about him; the way he carries himself, the way he talks to my other teammates and patients. You can tell he cares. He’s genuine and real.
There’s another girl who was training with me on Friday; one from my class. My clinic will not be the one she works at, but it is where, at least for the moment, she is getting the “hands on” portion of our training. It was nice to have her there with me. A familiar face in the sea of new. At the end of our shift, before we went home, my supervisor took us back to the breakroom. He had bought a cake for me and the other team members as a way to welcome me to the clinic.
It was so amazingly fantastic. I felt nothing but welcomed all morning and then to have something like this done for me left me speechless and humbled.
I had felt that having a good morning was my sign that this was the right step forward. Simply having a good day and not killing anyone and feeling my confidence grow as the day progressed was enough. Having a good day was enough to affirm to myself that I can do this and that things would be ok.
But then there was the cake.
I know it’s just a cake, just a balloon. It really doesn’t say anything at all about the future, and I know there will be problems and issues and bad days ahead of me. But it nearly brought me to tears to see my balloon and cake on the table I had taken my break at only a few hours ago.
They took the time to think about me. They wanted me to know I was welcomed. I still feel moved to tears when I think about it.
I cried in my car as I left the clinic. Good tears. Painful tears. I wanted to call mom and tell her about my day. I knew she would have been ecstatic about the cake. She would have been thrilled that my day had gone so well and that I already love what I’m doing.
I talked to her in my car. I don’t talk to her often. I write more than I talk, but I talked to her Friday afternoon. I told her about the cake and my day. I told her I knew she was happy for me. I told her I would be ok.
I went to kickboxing that evening. I enjoyed the class though it was one of the more intense ones. The trainers all have different styles. Some focus more on conditioning, others more on technique and reps. The instructor on Friday was a “conditioning” instructor. My core still hurts from that class. It was worth it, though, and I’m glad I went.
Big Bad and I spent the evening together. I loved all of our time together, but what I loved the most was having my head on his chest and hearing his heartbeat while he held me close. It was the first time in almost a month that I’ve fallen asleep next to someone.
Saturday morning we had coffee with bagels. I came home and meal planned. I made my shopping list then showered and headed out. I went to Target and got blackout curtains since I’m having to go to bed when the sun hasn’t fully set. Next was the dojo for my first jiu-jitsu class in what seems like forever.
I didn’t do well with the technique. It was a roll technique, one they had been training all week, but this was my first day with it. I’m ok with that; not being good or proficient with something new. I was glad I was at the dojo at all. Being there meant more to me than doing well. My sparring rounds weren’t all that awesome either, but again, I didn’t mind. I did better than I thought I would, I stuck it out for all of them, and no one made me tap.
Once class was over I finished my shopping by going to the oriental market. The cashiers there are starting to remember me. It’s a warm feeling.
I came home and prepped most of the veggies. I spent time watching Vikings. It’s a show on Amazon Prime. I’m almost done with season three I think.
I went to sleep fairly early. I slept well and deeply.
Today I woke up and felt low. I figured I would. Two days, both of which were fairly intense and productive… I was actually surprised Saturday hasn’t started that way with how sore I was from kickboxing. I could feel the arrhythmia in my pulse and the tiredness that either comes with it or causes it. I’m not sure which is first.
I didn’t want today to be a low day, though. I still wanted to do things and I didn’t want to let the sadness have a chance to take my day from me. I knew that some form of exercise would most likely correct at least the arrhythmia, which hopefully would at least help with the tiredness and being less tired would hopefully, ideally help keep things in perspective and not allow the sadness to overstep its place.
I didn’t want to do anything intense, but an active recovery like yoga sounded good, especially with how sore my body was feeling.
There had been a post in the dojo’s group earlier in the week about an open mat on Sunday. Normally the dojo is closed on Sunday, but the thought of having all that space to do whatever I wanted to sounded amazing. I didn’t think many people would be there either which would make it even better.
After cooking breakfast and enjoying my coffee I showered and figured out a yoga podcast I wanted to try out.
I was pleased that there were only four other people who showed up. All of them I have seen before, two of them I’ve sparred with previously. They did some conditioning work while I did yoga. Eventually, they started to spar and asked if I wanted to join.
I did, for two rounds. It was really nice. I did better than I had on Saturday. I almost got Akib in a choke hold but the bell sounded before I could finish it, so I guess it wasn’t meant to be. Next time. Just like Big Bad, his days are numbered. >:3
Overall I’m glad I went and I’m glad I sparred, too, even though I hadn’t planned on it. I felt much better afterward, my muscles warm and stretched, no longer painfully tight, and my arrhythmia seemed to be gone.
When I left the dojo I made a trip to Publix for a few missed items, but after that, I came back home and continued to cook my meals for the coming week while watching Vikings. I did a load of laundry towards the end along with cleaning out the water bottle graveyard in my car.
And so here I am at the end of it all, writing it all, remembering, processing, accepting.
I like that I have bruises on my arms again. I like them because they’re reminders of my training. Marks where someone tried to hold me, subdue me and wasn’t able to. I was able to break their grip and though I might not have been able to achieve a position of advantage, I wasn’t tapped out or trapped either.
I like how I made it through the weekend without feeling like I was surrounded by chaos or being overwhelmed. I like how even though I felt low I was able to actively work to alter those feelings. I like how sadness didn’t take away my ability to get things done.
There’s a lot of things I liked about this weekend. More than anything I’m glad I went to the dojo and the gym. I’m glad I brought training back into my life after a week of absence and close to a month of inconsistency.
I don’t want to go that long without training again. I don’t like the ache I feel when I think of having to give it up, or not being able to make my schedule work with it.
I need this in my life still. I want this in my life. It’s one of the things that makes it worth it. And so just like I know my new job is the right direction, so too do I know that I need to keep my training close to me. It’s a part of who I am now. It’s in my heart chakra and I refuse to give it up.
It’s part of myself and I’ll keep moving forward whole, complete, without sacrificing the things that make me me.
I’m done meandering through my thoughts for the moment. I’m tired and ready for sleep and another 5 am wake up call in the morning.
So with that, I take my leave.