Heal Thyself

"Physician, heal thyself"; and while I'm pulling out parables, how about "the cobbler's children have no shoes." No, I do not miss the irony that a therapist who purports to teach compassion fatigue and resilience has run herself into the ground. What would normally have been a small cold has reduced me to a sniveling, whining creature who has slept more hours than she's been awake the last several days. The fact that I flew to Charlottesville, bought a house and had a job interview in the midst of said cold-turned-sinus-infection seems to be "blips" of activity between "ugly Nyquil" sleep. Which reminds me: my apologies to the perfectly nice gentlemen beside me in 28B on the flight back to Denver. I'm pretty sure he thought I had Ebola, as he kept his scarf around his face most of the flight.

Oh my...did I just say I bought a house while drugged on Nyquil and deaf in one ear from infection? I'm going to rely on the knowledge that we had decided on this purchase prior to my illness and that my wobbly signature on the dotted line will be minor history in the overall story of my life. I guess while I'm working on apologies, I should send a "shout out" to Realtor Lee. Thanks, Lee, for pretending not to notice when I borrowed a large sum of Kleenex from the house on Monet Hill Lane. Hey...I'm buying their house, they can spare some Kleenex.

All joking aside, it proved to me in very real ways that we all have our limits. Sometimes those limits come up faster than what we would expect. If we aren't careful, they not only impact us, but those we love. Remember when I said the "cobbler's kids have no shoes?" As I was working with kids coming in from Haiti and interviewing for a position that would have me working with child abuse victims, I had completely forgotten that my middle son, Joe, was finishing his 1st grade unit on Mexico. The end celebration involved a Fiesta and Mexican market. Each child was to bring in 10 handmade crafts which they would trade with other children. On that day, I was out of town. Joe had no crafts to bring. Those of you who are parents know how awful that feels to know I let my son down...and how embarrassing it is to admit. But I admit it for two reasons: to make sure I am accountable and also to say that even with the best of intentions, we fail. We fall short of what we owe ourselves and we owe our children.

My Joe

I told Joe how sorry I was I didn't help him make crafts. He shrugged and said, "No biggie...me and Haley and Blake all shared stuff." Good to know kids find solutions to our own, adult failures. As for me, I'm learning some important lessons.