Poker face...

I'm steadfast and I'm quiet,
I listen and observe.
On the surface you don't see my wounds, on the surface I'm not heard.

My strength doesn't lie in things I know, nor things I can explain.
If strength was left for me to find, my search would be in vain.

I've dug deep trenches in my heart,
I've built up walls of stone.
I’ve worn a poker face more times, than anyone would know.

Surreal's become reality, in more ways than I'd wish.
I never imagined way back when, it would all add up to this.

There's lessons in the heartache,
there’s  growth that comes from pain.
I may be playing poker now, but winning's not my aim.

I aim to find the quiet, the peace that once was lost.
Sometimes putting up a fight, is far too high a cost.

I'm steadfast and I'm quiet,
I listen and observe.
I've worked out what this life's about from all that I have learnt.

KT x

Each and every day!

 

I have had the privilege of nursing some truly amazing, inspirational people in my career as a nurse. With ten years looking after patients and families dealing with cancer, there aren’t many human emotions I haven’t met- my own and those of the people in my care. Ironically, working in cancer as a speciality is not a depressing job, despite any misconceptions that it might be. It’s challenging, saddening, and frustrating sometimes, yet completely humbling.

I was twenty-one years old when I worked on my first cancer ward. Looking back I realise just how young that was to face some of the things I encountered. I began to think about my own mortality and the mortality of my family and friends, more than your average person in their twenties. I quickly learnt that cancer doesn’t discriminate; nursing people the same age as my parents, grandparents, and some who were even the same age as me.  I’ve watched many fight cancer and win; celebrating with them and their families as they received their amazing news, and I’ve shed a tear for those who fought on bravely and did not overcome- I still remember a great many of those patients and their families. What continually surprises me over the years is the strength of character that people display, along with the simple joy of being alive each and every day. There is a good lesson in that for many of us.

My work with these patients has meant that I spend a considerable amount of time getting to know them and their families; I would often see some of them more than my own family- or so it seemed. Caring for them daily, weekly, monthly; from the devastation of diagnosis, through treatment and into recovery, which I always hope for. I would learn about them and their families- those that were getting married, passing exams, having children, taking cruises, buying and selling houses, and all the other aspects of their lives. At first, I had a hard time learning not to get too attached; the first few patients that I nursed and sadly lost hit me the hardest. It was only after a couple of years that the words of one matron made sense; ‘you must save your grief for your own loved ones’. It was true, and spoken with the wisdom of no doubt learning the hard way, as we all do. Grief is a difficult emotion, one that everyone deals with differently. In the job I do there is a balance of achieving compassion, yet not allowing yourself to grieve alongside people; if we did, we wouldn’t be in our job for long, and perhaps that is why some people could never do this particular field of nursing. There are many fields of nursing I know I wouldn’t be suited to, children’s nursing for one, particularly now that I am a mum myself.

My job isn’t easy, and some days I don’t want to face bad news and suffering. On those days I have to remind myself that I am not the one going through, what they are going through and I also remind myself of the people I have helped over the years; the hands I’ve held, the hugs I’ve given and received from relieved family members, when a scan result came back clear. The relief on a person’s face when I’ve stepped into a room to see them, when they’re unwell, and the phone calls from scared patients whose voices lift just enough to know I made a difference to their suffering. Living with the trust that people have in you to make them better, is a great responsibility and a deep privilege.

We are only human and we all have bad days, where the trivialities of life overwhelm us and this is okay, but I try and remember how fortunate I am every day that I am alive and well. Every day that I get to see or speak with my loved ones, I count as a blessing. Because being a cancer nurse for over a decade has taught me not to take those things for granted.

KT x

Believe the truth and be free...

Modern life seems to have stripped people of a sense of self-worth. External influences such as social media have their advantages, and we enjoy using them, but it can also make it harder for people to escape criticism, peer pressure, or feelings of inadequacy. I think our young people are particularly vulnerable. School was hard enough, especially if you were bullied like I was. I can't imagine what it would be like now with the power of social media. Not even being able to escape the bullies in your own home.

I was saddened recently hearing a report on the radio that said self-poisoning was becoming a big problem. My heart went out to those who feel they have so little self-worth that they turn to hurting themselves. No one should have to feel that way.

The world's a tough place. Growing up in it is tough, it always has been, but I suppose each generation faces different and similar difficulties.
Young people are still trying to find their place in a world that tells them all sorts of lies.

Whatever your age, if you’re reading this and are struggling with self-worth, remember you are special and beautiful in your own way. The opinions of those who put you down won't matter one day. Even though today they seem like they are the only opinion.

You matter to someone, don't ignore that! More importantly, learn what it means to matter to yourself. Respect yourself, love yourself, and ignore negative influences. No one should get to make you feel worthless.

You are awesome! Anything else is a lie.
Believe the truth and be free!

KT x

A bit of spirit and determination... #worldbookday

Writing for me is an escape, much like reading a book or being immersed in a film. It’s a place where I can choose what happens and when; as opposed to in life where things just happen- chosen or not. Writing gives me the space to be myself, to delve into my inner most thoughts, memories and experiences, and hopefully create a story that is not only worth telling, but brings inspiration to those who read it. I don’t want to write for the sake of it; I want people to have an emotional reaction to my writing. It may be fiction, but I want to create characters and experiences that resonate with readers. 

I feel content when I write; it’s what I want to do. I’ve had my nose in a book my whole life, turning page after page of my favourite author’s books; willing characters on and shedding tears at heart-warming tales. A good book leaves you with that satisfied feeling of being taken on a journey, followed by the sadness that the journey has come to an end. I love how books have made me feel over the years, and I want to inspire that feeling in a reader.

In the beginning I wrote as a way of healing, it was an emotional anchor for me. I didn’t envisage it being very good, or that people would enjoy my story. I remember showing the first draft of my novel to a friend, and she lost track of time while reading it-which I knew was a good sign. Then she sent me a message saying ‘I love, love, love your book’. Later she confessed that she had worried, if it had been awful, she'd have had to break the news to me. Instead, with surprise in her voice she said: ‘you can actually write!’ I can’t explain how it felt to hear her confirm it was actually good and the characters, that were real in my mind, had come to life in the way I had intended.

Writing is a long journey that teaches many things; dedication, perseverance, self-belief, self-doubt, frustration (and how much chocolate you can actually consume!) I love to write, so even after my novel is finished, whatever the outcome, I will keep writing. I cannot pretend that it isn’t my dream to walk into a book shop one day and see my novel on a shelf, or in the window display. I get goose bumps when I imagine how it would feel to see my story in print and know that people were actually reading my work.

Above all, I want to make my family and friends, who have supported me in life, proud. I want to show my son that dreams are important and that with a bit of spirit and determination, he can be anything he wants to be.

KT x

In spite of my fears

Today I was greatly out of my comfort zone as I sat at the back of an auditorium, staring down at the conference programme where my name appeared as the eighth speaker on the list. I was asked a couple of weeks prior to the conference if I would do a short presentation about cancer research. I am a cancer research nurse after all, but I don’t normally give presentations, so I cannot explain the sense of dread that filled me, being asked to speak in front of fifty plus healthcare professionals, including specialist nurses and doctors.

I didn’t think my fear was a good enough reason to refuse, so I busily conjured up plans to be on leave that day, to ask my manager to refuse to release me from work, or anything else that I could use as a suitable excuse. In the end I agreed, even as I spoke the words I couldn’t believe I was saying yes, for there was no reality where I could actually imagine speaking in front of all those people.

At one point (or several points) in the preparations for the presentation, I cried- I didn’t think I would ever have anything decent to present. Despite how tirelessly I worked on the project, willing it to be good enough; all I could see was making a fool of myself in front of people who were far more knowledgeable and experienced than I. But deep down I knew that I needed to do this, in spite of my fears.

During the other speakers presentations I tried to concentrate, with success at first, choosing denial as a way of dealing with my nerves. I counted down the presentations ahead of mine, knowing that there were five speakers, a coffee break, three more speakers, then me. After a ‘technical’ fault, we had to break early for coffee, which threw me into a slight spin. Then the sessions were running one hour behind, not unusual for a conference of this kind, but adding to my nervous tension, none the less.  

Finally we reached the penultimate presentation and all I could hear was ‘white noise’. I took some breathes, trying to gather oxygen in my lungs as one of my colleagues leaned over to me, saying: ‘you’ve got this’. Two of my other colleagues, who were sat diagonally to my left, turned to me and smiled in solidarity.  ‘I’ve got this!’ My inner monologue told me and I remembered the words of my beautiful son the night before: ‘Don’t be scared and talk loud and clear!’ I sipped my water, trying to clear the dry rasp forming in my throat, before the dreaded words ‘any questions’ filled the air, signalling the end of the speaker’s presentation.

It was my turn!

Question time went on that bit too long, once again adding to my nervous tension before I was called up. I assumed an air of ‘pretend’ confidence as the consultant uploaded my presentation and I focused intently on making my blood deprived fingertips clip the microphone to my nurse’s uniform. Fear amplified the ‘white noise’, so I took a deep breath, telling myself it would soon be over. ‘I’ve got this!’ my inner monologue told me once more, as I quickly remembered the advice people had given me ‘to speak slowly and clearly’. Then words left my mouth as If I was on autopilot. I methodically moved from slide to slide, and to my surprise I perfectly pronounced all the words I stuttered over in rehearsal. I looked up and saw my lovely friends and colleagues beaming at me in support, and I even managed to make eye contact with other members of the audience.

With each slide in my presentation my confidence grew and my anxiety dissipated. As I reached the closing points I felt relief build and then surge through my body as I heard myself say: ‘any questions?’

I’d done it!  

I wouldn’t go as far as to say that I would leap at the chance to repeat the experience again in a hurry; I can still feel my knees knocking together so fiercely that I feared they would fail to carry me to the front to speak. What I proved to myself today was that under all that self-doubt and fear was a confident and capable person, who rose to the challenge and succeeded. I am proud and relieved in equal measure, and I cannot tell you the sense of achievement I feel in facing something I utterly dreaded.

If only this feeling could be gathered up and bottled!

KT x

It won't always be this hard...

I was reminded this week that we all go through times when everything falls apart, and we can’t ever imagine being able to put ourselves, and the people we love back together again. I don’t know why bad things happen, I’m not the sort of person who likes to attribute blame to anything in particular- it’s just life, and people, and sometimes people let us down.

Remember on the days, weeks and even months where it feels as if it will never get any better… it will! It won’t always be this hard. Believe in yourself and know that this hard time will one day be behind you; it may not go away completely, it may leave a scar- but hopefully it will also leave something positive that you weren’t expecting.

We’re only broken for a short while, until all the pieces rise and form something greater and stronger than was there before.  

KT x

Today was a weird day.

I chose the word 'weird' for want of a better way to explain it. Today my son became a big brother, because his dad’s partner had a baby. I obviously knew that this day was coming for the past few months, and I imagined it would feel strange. It did. You never imagine your child will have a sibling that has absolutely nothing to do with you. I always imagined it would be me that gave my son a brother or sister, and I can’t explain how it feels that this is not the case.

In the past couple of years I thought I’d had just about all the surreal experience’s you could have. But today, waiting in my office in the hospital not far from the labour ward for my son to finish meeting his brother, was the most surreal of them all. I thought about the look he would have on his face when he saw his brother for the first time, and that I wouldn’t get to see that. How he would look holding him in his arms and giving him his first soft kiss on his head. Despite how absolutely resolute I am in knowing just how much better my life is now, I allowed myself to feel sad. Because today was always going to be the hardest day. You can move on from your marriage and the feelings you once held for your ex, but I think you’re allowed to feel sad that there is a part of your child that you are not a part of. He is part of a family that will never be a part of, and I have found this is by far the toughest part of divorce.

When I finally see my son, after he’s met his brother, he's a little sad to have left him and wants to see him again. Despite my own feelings (of a small dagger plunging into my heart), I breathe and explain that he will get to see his brother all the time now. That he will be in his life forever. My son says ‘my baby brother is my best pal forever.’ Of course he's right and I’m happy for him. Happy that he has a brother and will experience that relationship. In spite of my, no doubt short lived, sadness on this weird day I choose to enjoy in what small way I can just how happy having a brother has made him. I think that’s surely a better way to approach it than to just be sad.

KT x