I’ve kept journals for most of the past 35 years. In fact, it was my writing that enabled me to keep my job when it had become obvious to me, and everyone else, that one of the physicians I worked with had one goal in mind when she joined our department. Her goal was to get rid of me in any way she could find. Her methods were…let’s say…brutally effective.
I refused to allow that to happen. I loved my job and I was good at what I did. I did not fully understand when our battle began how correct she was with some of her objections about my work. Somehow I was able to look beyond my fear and see the valuable lessons hidden in her threats. With a lot of introspection through writing, I began to see my way through each day and successfully navigate the constantly changing mine fields.
I was up every work day writing in my black spiral notebook for at least 45 minutes. I would let my pencil flow freely across the pages. No censoring. No editing. No fixing poor penmanship. Every written word freed more of my mind. My worries and insecurities were literally spelled out and dismissed each day before I even began my drive downtown. The last three sentences at the end of each day’s pages were the same:
I am.
I am.
I am.
My first day’s entry in that series of journals was this conversation with myself:
I will learn quickly and completely growing into one of the best rounded sonographers in our lab. I will stay strong and kind. I will hear this physician ask me to stay when I give my final notice.
I won.
Time passed. I forgot about the power of words.
Then I began this blog.
Every day as I write, I re-discover the power of words–my words. With each memory nurtured and tended, my stories become clearer and grow.
My soul, patiently waiting, celebrates.
I am…
B…simply being…
Love and peace, Y’all.
B...simply being... 