So, yes, I have fallen off of the face of the earth lately and hadn't posted any blogs for all of December to this point. I haven't figured out a writing schedule with my new position as of yet, particularly with the extra frills of the holiday season.
It's been another eventful year.
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| The new view on my way to work |
Grandma Peterson died last year, the first of Andy's four grandparents to pass. Given the vaccination status of some family members, I was not able to attend the funeral without risk to myself (as an immunocompromised person) nor my patients, tangentially. This was its own source of grief, to emphasize that one of the loudest lessons I've learned through the course of the ongoing pandemic is that many people would not do the bare minimum to keep others safe, even others that would actively drill holes in their own lifeboat in the name of selfish freedom. I have seen firsthand what the long-term effects of COVID can look like in the hospital setting and have no need to roll the dice there, subsequently meaning that I have less guilt in removing myself physically from certain situations and interactions. It's a complicated grief, all the same.
Additionally, Andy and I have two other grandparents with waning health--there is an anticipatory grief in these circumstances, a quiet preparation for eventualities. For my last remaining grandparent, my mother and I have had frank, clinical conversations on what pattern we see happening, acknowledging that knowing is both comforting and not. These thoughts linger in the back of my mind, quietly simmering as I see other patients enact the same process in the hospital setting or in the occasional family mass text update.
Certainly, though, the most significant upheaval in our home this year was when Andy was let go at Rivian. There are still moments when it catches us, where we go "why Andy, of all people?" who proselytized Rivian with enthusiasm and joy. But it happened. And the logistics had to be addressed, allowing space for the emotional components to process. There was a lot to think about, including (but not limited to) household needs, identity, and the health insurance we had been getting through the company.
That last one in particular, I have been running orange for a while, just a gentle shove away from red-overwhelm on my internal status bar, watching the internal rpms of my brain and body rev to some dangerous sounds. It is not healthy to run the system at that degree of stress for a long period of time, but I could not be settled until we were settled with specifics on insurance. Now with a plan set in place, the system is still in the yellow until I see the household figures after the first month, but yellow is at least edging back toward a healthier green. The survival voices have been loud the last few months, and the great injustice of how expensive I am to keep alive because of a disease that is not my fault, well, it's galling to say the least. There is more grief here than I know what to do with, especially knowing how proactive I am toward my health. There is no moral failing in having a human body that needs care. There is a terrible moral failing in taking advantage of that to profit oneself.
In short, we started the year as DINKs with a clear plan on a relatively viable (for this country) healthcare plan and our financial and personal goals laid out. We end it still sorting some pieces out, having lost a degree of security in that upheaval. My experience with the unknown means that we have had strong safety nets that have held us above immediate danger, but there is a degree of bitterness in needing to use them.
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| Nothing is wrong with Andy's leg! He's a good sport for letting me practice. |
On New Adventures
So, we actually paid off the Rivian this year. That's some crazy shit, yo. We are Millennial Unicorns. Our remaining debt is my nursing school student loans and our mortgage. Depending how the student loan forgiveness elements shake out, we could potentially pay off my student loans by the end of the year. Comparing to where we started our marriage to where we are now, it's extraordinary to see the progress we've made.
We've had some great adventures this year, including a family vacation to Pigeon Forge, a few trips to the Twin Cities to hang out Josh and Morgan to seem them in different productions, an adventure to the Wisconsin Dells around my birthday (involving an escape room, axe throwing, and Wizard Quest), and a couples trip down to St. Louis to hit all of the Upper Limits gyms that direction.
Ah, yes, we started rock climbing this year. Hard to believe we've only been doing that since May. Andy--who never does things halfway--has been especially taken with it. After a cooling period post-Rivian, Andy now works at Upper Limits. I've been envious of the opportunity he has to climb, certainly, but delight in his excitement and my own milestones. He's finding his footing.
The increased exercise has done Andy a lot of good; I have also found a nutritionist and have made some good strides there. It's been very gratifying to see some physical results of our mutual progress.
And because we cannot do household upheavals one-at-a-time, I switched from inpatient to ambulatory nursing working at the Wound Healing Center. I'll have some further specifics on the new job in some upcoming blogs, but the short version for the moment is that I am delighting in expressing nursing in some of the ways I specifically went to nursing school for. I still have one foot in the inpatient world and the relationships I've made there, and simultaneously I'm finding a groove in my new place. Now that I've been a nurse for over a year, I'm simply amazed at how much I've grown and learned in that time, what tricks and processes I've learned in that time, how I've solidified setting boundaries, and so many unquantifiable workflows I've refined in growing my professional practice. There is a rightness here.
Mike started a new adventure, too, working toward radiology at Heartland, seeing his preparation pay off in completing his first set of required classes. It's been fun talking biology with him, to share those spaces and even a couple of my textbooks.
Luna is still and adorable little derp. That's a beautiful constant at the moment.
We had to delay our Iceland trip originally planned for the beginning of December. We probably could have made it work, but in retrospect it would not have laid nicely with my orientation to my new position--when we were juggling many things, it was a ball we could put down for now. We'll be looking at doing that at some point in the next year.
I had a wild hair the other day and bought hockey tickets for a Blues v Blackhawks game in January--looking forward to that mini-break already. I have some additional ideas for upcoming hijinks but also finding the odd joy in being able to do weekend things, too.
As I've been continuing to think about the ridiculous amount of money that we spend to keep me alive in this country, I also cannot help but continue to think about leaving it for another one, finding what steps it might take to do that. There's a lot to think about here.
And Where it Leads Us
There was a lot of growth this year in unexpected places. And all of it was certainly in that feeling of "becoming." This year, I look forward to "becoming more." Specifically, I would want for our household to work on becoming more of whom we are meant to be. The three of us are in different transition states--I'm excited to think about what that can look like in another few months. When I have my feet fully underneath me at the Wound Clinic, how will I move in that space? How will Andy inspire his team and improve in his climbing? How will Mike express his new learning spaces and enjoy the clinical time in the program?
What new elements of self will we all discover in the process?
So I approach the new year with optimism and curiosity, ready to probe some of those spaces. ...And to find a new pattern for writing again.
