on choosing to have a good day

Hey, it's been a while. This post is dedicated to Laila, who runs one of my favorite blogs and is one of my favorite people.

So I'm back to living in Phoenix, still doing the pediatric nursing thing. I did a sprint triathlon, and then a half marathon. I'm still spending my free time with Russell and our Wonder Dog. And the new love of my life is hot yoga.

Hot yoga is one of those things that I said I would never do (like running a half marathon and eating fish, both of which I have done). Yes, it is so hot that your entire body sweats so profusely that you need a towel on your yoga mat so that you don't slide off of it. Yes, sometimes I need to lay down on my sweaty yoga mat because I am seriously concerned that I am going to throw up. But it makes me feel good and happy and more sore than I've ever been in my life. My favorite instructor looks like Eric Nies, raps through our flow, and played a James Taylor song during the practice today. I am SOLD.

So I went to yoga today and afterwards, I was feeling great. Russell and I went to the mall to get my computer fixed. We walked around and bought some cookies. We drove all around Phoenix and Scottsdale on a day that was so warm and beautiful that it might just be illegal to have such a day in February. We had burritos for dinner. And all day long, I kept thinking that it had been such an amazing day and I was surprised how nice everyone had been.

And it hit me. You get what you put into life and you find good in the world when you're looking for it.

I have to be honest. Most days, I am not happy. I work on a floor with really sick kids and understandably, their parents are not in the best of moods. I am on my feet for 12+ hours a day. It is not rare for me to have shifts where I don't get a chance to eat or go to the bathroom. I do it all with a smile on my face and by the time I get to my car at the end of the night, I am drained. I come home mean. I cry a lot. I have a hard time being thankful.

But if I took more time to be mindful of the world around me, I could find a lot of things to appreciate. I work with brilliant people with big hearts who second guess every detail because they are saving lives all day long. I have a family who loves and supports me. I live in a society where I can support myself. I am young and healthy enough to push my body to its limits in a yoga class or out on a run. I am rich enough to not have to worry about where my next meal will come from or where I will sleep at night.

I woke up this morning. And because of all these things, I don't deserve to have a bad attitude today.

Restorative Yoga Made Me Cry

After my round of Power Yoga yesterday, I couldn't help but roll my eyes at Restorative Yoga. It was the only class that I could make it to today.

The instructor said that we were going to hold poses for five to ten minutes and that it would cleanse our internal organs and allow our nervous system to switch from sympathetic to parasympathetic. I mean, I'm granola, but I'm not that granola. Anyway, I was already there and ready to get a good stretch on.

We laid in cobbler's pose and I could feel my right shoulder relaxing. It cramps up if I work more than two shifts in a row. She was talking about the half-awake state you find yourself in at 9 a.m. on a Sunday morning, laying next to a pet or a loved one. And in the middle of yoga, at my way-too-fancy gym, I started crying. Like a loser. Because I moved to Texas by myself and I am so homesick, not knowing where home is at this point.

I didn't like my job in Phoenix. But I liked my life. I loved my neighborhood. I loved being able to walk to Beckett's Table or LGO or Pita Jungle with Russell. I liked having a membership to the Desert Botanical Garden. I liked being a ten minute drive from the airport. I liked tubing the river in June and monsoon season and cooking with my boy in our tiny kitchen.

I liked having a place in which I belonged, even if it wasn't quite home.

And now, it's just me. And Vegas. And a tiny apartment that feels too big and no friends to call for brunch and a job that pays the bills but isn't quite what I expected it to be. I don't hate it, but I don't particularly like it, either. There's too much chaos and not enough babies and I'm so busy that I don't have time to think, which is important when lives are on the line. I'm learning how to juggle and appease but not how to think clearly. I'm often frustrated and annoyed and I can already feel myself not caring about these people. This isn't why I became a nurse and it isn't the type of nurse that I want to be.

I'm here for a little while, until the idea of packing up and moving again doesn't seem so insane. Until I can finish a few more certifications and get a few more months at this job. Until Russell finds a job somewhere that can be a home for both of us.