Let's talk about going back to work.

When you're standing on a ledge in the abyss, let me tell you, there ain't no ladder up. Emergency exit? No, ma'am. Oh, and no mulligan, either. It is all here and now and oh-by-the-way, the kids have got to eat. Like, every day. And baby, who's asthma has kicked in because she is all of three and stressed and we have moved into a dusty home, needs her meds. And, of course, I have been a stay-home mom for the past 5 years with a husband who didn't permit friends or forays into the job market. Add in a divorce lawyer who prides himself on no compassion whatsoever. Place all of the above in a bowl, stir well, and what you get is: Sarah needs a job. Now. Good thing that I am a nurse. Or had been, years ago.

I started work 5 weeks after I decided to save us. Could I have picked a more difficult and more intense floor? Sure, but not by much. I got 3 job offers in one day. I decided to accept a position with the hospital because, truly, hospital nursing is where you get and hone your skills. My skills needed some work. I lie. My skills needed a lot of work. Unfortunately, I had the worst preceptorship ever -- as in, I didn't get one. No preceptor was available, so I was passed from nurse to nurse for orientation to the floor. And on my first day off of orientation, Christmas Day, I got sent to the Intensive Care Unit as a float nurse. Which is the equivalent of sending the proverbial lamb to slaughter. I am proud that I didn't kill anyone. Did I weep? Bien sur. But it was a start. I was still clinging to that ledge, knowing that if I let go there wouldn't be a recovery. I spent the next months, years, driven by fear alone. That's the thing about being a toe-hold away from the abyss. You know how bad things are. You know how bad things can be. The thought that things can be so very much worse can and will change who and how you are. Once you know fear, real fear, as in "he knows where we live. He owns a gun" or "its just me...how am I going to pay this? and "baby, please, please stop wheezing so much, I can't afford the doctor right now" or, (and this is the worst) "God, please take me, I can't do this anymore. I can't live and be so tired. Please God. Take me" -- once you live through that you know that you can make it through anything.

The upside is that my kids know hard. True dat. They know hard. But they also know love. Great love. Granted, I have one who is lost and not talking to me, but I have another who is a complete Mama's boy, and not ashamed of it. And the small ones? Well, they know that Mama and God love them down to their stinky feet.

The way out of the abyss? Perseverance. Sounds trite. It isn't. It is the hardest thing in the world. But what the hell else do you do? You save the small people, and you save yourself.

That's the back-story. With it under my belt I am ready to blog about running, lack of running, and my failed or soon to be failed relationships. *yawn*