Self Care is Not an Island




If you feel alone as a nurse, you are working in a dangerous environment.  You can’t function as a nurse without your coworkers and peers as support. As an only child I don’t mind feeling alone - but being a nurse can force you into a new persona.  My Type B only child ‘ness’ has been replaced with a Type A communal creature (at least during my 40 hour work week) where my focus is hyperattentive and I need community around me.  Working in a hospital as well as a clinic, I was always surrounded by my peers and relied on them heavily for professional support as well as emotional support. In oncology this sharing mentality seems to be amplified.  We shared patients as assignments, we mixed their chemo and we tried to fix their problems. Together. Hard IV to start? Grab Jodi. Patient getting a little belligerent? Get Chevelle. Not sure what the standard guideline is for a certain chemo regimen? Find Erica.  We all knew who these patients were - by name, by diagnosis, by favorite anti-nausea medication and by what their dog’s name was.


We celebrate victories with patients together and we also share tragedies together.  


I scared the shit out my dad one morning after driving home from night shift when I called him incoherently sobbing.  As a brand new baby nurse in 2009, the first time I experienced a traumatic and sudden patient death happened at six in the morning.  I gave report at 7am and left the hospital to go home.


The reality of what I had just witnessed hit me like a freight train.  I was on the phone saying three words:
He. Just. Died.


My dad did his best to help me (he put my mom on the phone) and I became acutely aware my village of support doesn’t always have to coalesce- you have to figure out out who and when to lean on.  Probably in a perfect world you’d have five people you could come to with any problem that comes into your life, but I have yet to find that world. My husband refers to car ownership as a ‘golf bag’- you have a vehicle for every job (welcome to my world) so I’m stealing that ridiculous analogy and saying you need a golf bag of support--someone for every occasion.  


Going back to scaring the hell out of my dad on a Thursday morning- I was able to find those particular people to be my nursing world support.   I’ll never forget the night I was single and living in Alaska and a patient that I was attached to also suddenly died. The doc came to the infusion room and let us know he had died in the hospital that day.  After this update, I was visibly distraught. I wasn’t crying, more so sitting there a bit dumbfounded. My coworker looked at me and asked if I would get a drink with her after work. She rarely drank, just wasn’t her thing.  I’m sure she had plenty of other things she wanted to do that evening. She asked me not because she needed the drink, but because she knew that I was living in the basement of a middle aged woman who worked at the ticket counter of Delta Airlines and that I needed a little more decompression time with someone who understood before we all left for the day at 5pm.  So we went to TGIFriday’s and had a beer. I don’t think we really talked about the patient that much, but the fact she was there for me meant a whole helluva lot.


Ask any nurse about the camaraderie you develop with other nurses and you will be met with countless stories like mine of support, love, sorrow and empathy.  I’d imagine this holds true for other professions that deal with the mortality of life on a more regular basis - EMT, police officers, firefighters, military members, clergymen.  


In those lines of work people tend to gravitate towards their peers as their social network too.  Ever since I graduated with my undergrad in nursing my best friends, drinking friends, social club and girl gang had always been my coworkers.  I made conscious decisions to be around people that I didn’t need to hide the morbid humor, disgusting stories and tears from. I had other friends who weren’t in healthcare, but by in large my day to day interactions were with my peers.


Fast forward to 2016 - As a brand new Nurse Practitioner and someone living in a brand new city, friends were not something I had plenty of - at least not locally.  It’s different creating that community spirit as a provider than as a nurse. Nurses are constantly amongst other nurses during the day, doing their tasks and working together to get the job done.  Providers are in offices - typically by themselves. Providers are either behind closed doors with patients or behind office walls writing orders, prescriptions and notes. There is a mood of solitude that I wasn’t prepared for when I made this professional transition.  

Now don't get me wrong - I've made some amazing connections with my current coworkers and there is no way I would have survived my first year as an Oncology NP without those people. But there is a definite difference from floor/infusion nursing connections and provider connections. I found myself struggling to share my work experiences with non-work peers because if you don't deal with cancer every day you probs don't want to talk about it - ever.  

So I would either:

1) Depress/scare the hell out of Ben, my dad (again) and random friends with vague stories (thanks HIPPA) to try and decompress
2) Kept it to myself and let it eat at my soul a bit

Actual footage of me internalizing my emotional fatigue

It took me months - yes months - to figure out the reason why my stress threshold was lower than normal. Once I did, I had to realize how to utilize the support I did have and lemme tell you - it's a pretty great support system.


The majority of my friends I made since moving here haven’t been from work-they’ve been from the gym.  I started Crossfit a month after moving to Asheville and it single handedly influenced my current social circle.  


The friends I’ve made from the gym are been some of the most incredible people I have ever met.  Maybe it’s Crossfit, maybe it’s Asheville, maybe it’s who I gravitate towards at this stage in life.  There is an honesty to these people that is often hard to find. Crossfit leaves little to the imagination.  You either did the pull up or lifted that weight or you didn’t. You either climbed up the rope or you didn’t.  You get bumped, scratched, broken, hurt, sweaty, teary-eyed, bloodied and sometimes pukey. And you do or don’t do all of these things in front of the rest of the class and your coaches.  


These friends are both strong and vulnerable.  It’s an honor to witness bravery mixed with apprehension, perseverance led by uncertainty. This spills over into how these people live their lives outside of the gym and they help influence me to have that same confidence (even when it's a complete ruse). Confidence to say "I'm not doing fine today" and having them sit with you for a bit.

You have to have a certain ‘f*ck it, I'm going to try” mantra at times in Crossfit and trust me- I’ve decided not to try plenty of times.  But, when you do decide to have a little faith mixed with that fear, some cool stuff can happen.


This past July I did something that was terrifying and completely outside of my comfort zone.  I competed in my first Crossfit competition. My friend convinced me that we were totally ready for our first competition (even though I know she was legit saying it outloud to convince herself too).  

I had crippling anxiety the week leading up to the competition. I couldn't eat or sleep.


Literally no one cared if we won.  

No one.  

But we had family and friends coming to watch and cheer us on and that scared the hell out of me.  Having people who mean the world to me - people that were still confused on how you compete as an exerciser - watch me. It was unnerving. Even the day of the event when there was no turning back, I was losing my shit.  I packed my car with so much stuff- food, clothes, water, chairs, chalk, protein. My friend saw me unloading my care and she started laughing at me since I looked like I was packing for a three week cross country trip.  


We got 4th out of 5th place of the scaled division.  So basically we were second to last of the JV squad. But no one got hurt and we had a blast working together as a team.  
Doing some of my first pull-ups ever while my team cheers me on

Doing our best not to die during out last heat
We laughed, we cried, we cussed- together


As I became more consistent with my Crossfit attendance and effort I realized two things:
1) I was becoming stronger - push ups, first pull up, bigger weights with Olympic lifts
2) You couldn’t physically tell I was becoming stronger - in my marginally skewed body image eyes


I’d been following several people on Instagram that were into fitness and nutrition and somehow honed in on a program called Black Iron Nutrition (BIN).  I can’t remember what led me there but I found myself following half a dozen people who worked at Black Iron Gym in Reno and/or were coaches for this online nutrition coaching program.  They focus on macros and nutrient dense food choices and in my own research I felt this method would be something that could work. Something that would be a long term shift in my eating patterns and something that could be sustainable.  


I joined in May and boy those first few months were rough.  Tracking my food (and booze) especially leading into a Memorial Day camping trip was for lack of a better word - sobering.  I thought I made sorta-kinda decent food choices. And I sorta-kinda of did. But for the most part I was wildly ignorant to what my food was made of when it came down to carbohydrates, proteins and fats (the three MACROnutrients) as well as what that added up to at the end of the day.  


Over the weeks and months my coach would cheerlead me and guide me with tips and tools to make baby- read baby sea turtle- steps towards the macro goals she set for me.  BIN not only addresses food each week, they ask about how other things are going in my life so every Friday morning it feels like mini therapy sesh with a stranger. My coach is not a therapist.  She is just another human that I can divulge nearly anything to without judgement. Having the freedom of sharing my drama, worries and doubts with a stranger is something I have experienced once before but that story is for another post…


As time passed and I became closer and closer to hitting my goal macros each week, I started to see changes in two areas- my size shrunk and my strength grew.  I have never in the history of ever worn size Medium. In anything. I do now. I never in the history of ever could do a pull up. I did one in June and I did 28 yesterday.  


The transformation has felt out of body at times because I’ve never been able to stick with something long enough to induce these types of changes.  This is also the first time I have worked one on one with someone to get not only my nutrition in line, but someone to remind me every seven days that I am worth it and I can do it.  

May 2018- Dec 2018

Dec 2016- Dec 2018


If you are unfamiliar with macros and want to learn a little bit more, this is an article that may help explain them a little easier.  


If you clicked that link you may recognize the author.  Surprise! I’ve started writing about things other than my thrilling existence.  I began a course this fall the learn more about being a copywriter. It’s super exciting and scary and those two words are becoming a running theme for Steph 2018.  


Speaking of themes, in the echo chambers that are my social media news feeds, self-care has been one of the most trendy topics of 2018.  I didn’t make self-care a resolution or goal but as my year progressed it turned into a year of self reflection and awareness.


Self-care is hella tricky.  Get a massage. Get your nails done.  Take a bath. Read a book.


Those are all examples of how one can care for themselves.  Those are all pretty self-induced acts as well. You got a massage.  You took a bath.  You turned your phone on Do Not Disturb mode for...3-4 minutes.  


This was where the self-awareness came into play for me.  At some point I became aware that self-care doesn’t always mean do it yourself.  When - in fact - utilizing your support network to help out is a huge form of self-care.  


Walking into the gym I am greeted with familiar faces who are smiling (as much as they can at 6am) at me.  At the end of the work out we’re high fiving, fist-bumping and (often cussing) together. I mean, as a 33 year old, the amount of high fives I receive outside of the gym is on average zero times per month.  And the amount of times I get a little endorphin level up boost when I get a high five is on average every. single. time.


Every week I get a pep talk from my nutrition coach.  Yes - I am paying her to cheer me on and provide encouragement but that doesn’t take away the benefit I get from someone who has gotten to know me over the last six months.  Someone who knows my fears and doubts as well as knows my goals and aspirations for myself. She knows I fail a lot at hitting my macros. She knows I want a 200# power clean.  She knows I get crippling anxiety from FOMO and overexerting my social time.

In my copywriter course we learn about setting intentions and making sure goals and values align. I focus on finding my value as a writer and spend time attempting (some days better than others) to validate my goals.


I have really learned the value of quality relationships in 2018 and how to utilize my support to foster this self-care fad.  When we moved to Asheville in 2016 I had a deficit of friendships due to being brand new.  We never said no to going out and meeting as many people as possible. We made some great connections and some pretty shitty ones.  I’ve spent this year trying to nurture the great ones and learning what it means to truly lean on friendships to provide some pretty damn good self-care.


The benefits of the gym, nutrition programming, writing as a business adventure, settling in as a new provider,  ‘self-care’ has spilled into all of my aspects of my life. The friends I have made and support we all have for each other has been so humbling and exciting.  I feel I can be a better friend, wife, coworker based on the lessons I’ve learned from others. I am excited to try and repay those people with the same level of comfort to nurture their self-care.  


I’ve also learned self-care is not an island.  It is not something someone can do in a vacuum of self-help books, candles, podcasts and bubble bath.  It’s something that is shared with others. That can be discussing anxiety and self-doubt openly and it can also mean being honest and saying no to events if you’re a little overwhelmed.  This can be sharing your victories and being proud of your accomplishments without feeling pretentious.

We weren't made to figure this all out on our own. They say it takes it village to raise a child and I wholeheartedly believe you can't get rid of that village...ever.


If we are sticking with golf clubs...this is my driver.  The biggest contributor to my support system
<3

*Disclaimer- although it seems like I'm posting some advertisements for certain programs, I'm not getting paid for any of these comments, these are all my own opinions and thoughts