So whilst everyone else appears to be slaving away to get themselves beach body ready – I took a more laissez fair approach and just went with what I had. Whilst hairy legs, bushy under carriage and a wobbly bottom are not to be ashamed of I have to say I felt rather less pleased with my decision once I had squeezed myself into my swim costume.
I wouldn’t say that I am overly vain about my appearance but this was a step too far for even my broad shouldered ego. Pre-holiday I had admitted that yes I had gained a few pounds and was in fact the same weight now as I had been when pregnant. Alas this time the culprit was not a 7lb baby but a rather serious issue with burgers. Despite knowing that I was larger than I have ever been I still made the some what rash decision of buying all of my clothes in a size 10. This turned out to be particularly ridiculous when it came to putting on my swim gear. You could say I mastered the floss but not quite the way you would imagine.
The holiday clothes issue was quickly rectified by a couple of new outfits. Obviously that didn’t fix the state of my hair which is in that tricky phase of growing out my pixie cut. Still that phase continues and like I do every time I go through this I vow never to cut it short again. But I know, and I am sure you will have been there too, that this is cyclical process and I will indeed go through his again in a few years time! Still with my wobbly hairy bits covered and an improving tan I made it through the week without having too many hang ups about my appearance.
Now back firmly on UK soil the decision to join the gym before my holiday was a good one. You see this time rather than join a state of the art, fully mirrored, poser gym. You know the ones I mean – full of beautiful 20 somethings in Lycra, looking fabulous barely breaking a sweat whilst running 10 miles. I joined a ladies only gym – where they promised no mirrors and no judgements. They set me up with my own programme; measured all my wobbly bits and spent time taking me through the whole circuit. So when I got back from my hols; feeling fat and a bit self conscious this was all ready for me to start tackling the problem.
So off I trotted on Thursday afternoon – down to my new gym. Where so far I seem to be the youngest person there, but that’s great too. Everyone was nattering and made me feel really welcome. No one cared how many miles I could run or whether my trainers were cool. We were all there for the sole purpose of shedding just a few pounds so we could get our trousers done up again and hopefully increase our basic fitness level just a touch.
It’s strange to me too find myself looking forward to going back again next week. I am only planning on going 3 times a week but hopefully that will make all the difference. Who knows maybe I will get the exercise bug and turn into a real gym bunny. For now my 30 minute low intensity work out makes me feel better in myself and I am sure that I will start to see some results soon with regards to my trousers 👍🏻
Last week symbolised the end of my nursing career (for now). On Friday I packed up my uniforms and laptop and walked away from 10 years of hard work and commitment. It was tough – it felt very strange walking out of the doors of the hospital and realising that I would not be back again. But it also felt liberating. All the stress, anxiety and worry that comes with being a ward manger just floated away. Suddenly the lives of patients and staff members was nothing to do with me. No more impossible targets, no more trying to cut costs whilst maintaining safety or trying to beg overworked nurses to please cover one more shift.
This last year has opened my eyes to the realities facing the NHS. As a nurse working directly with patients you don’t always understand why management makes the decisions it does. You believe that we are all working towards a unified goal of better patient care and services. And we are but the reality of the situation is that everything costs more than you think it should, and there are such finite resources that you can’t always have everything you need to get the job done. As a manager it can be somewhat soul destroying. On the one hand you have nurses and in my case parents demanding a higher standard of care, better nursing ratios and facilities; on the other senior management are asking for more cost.
Am I sad to leave behind the greatest challenge I have faced so far in my career? Yes and no. But having secured a fantastic opportunity in the private sector I could no longer justify the daily stress my job brought into my home life. Am I worried that I have sold my soul? Nope – the time has come to look after me and my own for while and if that comes with a rather large pay rise and some extra perks then all the better. Don’t get me wrong this new job is gonna be tough and there is loads to learn, but it’s exciting and I am looking forward to trying something totally different. Do I believe I can do it? You bet your ass I do!
So why am I telling you all about this? Well I am kind of hoping that I might get a bit more time now to get back to blogging. It’s been a while right? I know, I know, all those goals for a new blog that I set myself just fell apart. To be honest life just took over – well actually work took over. Why I thought I was going to juggle 2 kids, a full time 24/7 job and a blog is beyond me. Still here I am having another go so bear with me 🙂.
On the to achieve list is still my couch to 5k, currently I have the couch part down to a fine art. This was certainly the case when I had to do the skinny-Jean-wiggle this morning and actually ripped the bum of my jeans 😱. Whilst I have visited a lot of the amazing restaurants in Birmingham now, I have been very lax on the reviews so I am hoping to get some of those completed too. And the rest of the blog? Well I guess that will be the random musings of a ‘Just-about-Millenial’
So a few weeks ago I was struggling with juggling nursing and being a mum. Life was tough and I could see no way of making it better. Then followed an even heartier kick in the teeth when I failed to gain the substantive post for the job I have been doing for 2 years. Yep I have to say I was pretty damn low. In fact so low I was seriously contemplating leaving nursing forever and becoming a postman. (I love post, I just think it’s so exciting get stuff through the door…)
Then came a moment in my life where someone actually stood up and basically said don’t be a dickhead. She was right, I either threw my toys out the pram or I picked myself up and dusted myself off. Stopped bemoaning the unfairness of the situation and actually proved I was more than what I was threatening to become.
It was hard. Almost crippled by self-doubt and the fear of failing a second time. But then I thought about what I have already overcome. The challenges I have faced head on – not least this last year with PND after Pudding. The time had come to stand up, to fight for what I believed and to put myself out there.
So I did. In went the application for a job I never would have applied for a year ago. Every time it crossed my mind over Christmas my stomach did that awful flip-flop. I let myself have moments of day dreaming that I had the job. Every time I did my confidence grew just a bit more. But not just that so did my passion for my nursing career. I felt re-energised for the first time since the children. I felt like me. Not just Mummy but a woman who could achieve her dreams of a career and family.
I planned how I could work and have the kids cared for. I read, anything and everything that might be useful. The interview was confirmed and I redoubled my efforts. Now I wanted this, really wanted it. No longer a pipe dream, I believed I could make this happen.
The interview date came. Sat waiting to be called my hand shook a little, my stomach seemed to twist and dance entirely to its own tune. If I thought the pre-interview wait was bad the post interview wait was a whole new form of torture. My mind analysed it over and over and over until I could barely remember what had even happened! Then finally the moment was there – as the words came out of my managers mouth I couldn’t really understand what she was saying. Let alone believe it! I had done it, the job was mine. Holy Shit!!!!!
So in the next few weeks I will start my new post. Full of enthusiasm and the passion to make positive changes. Will it all be plain sailing? Ha unlikely! I am on the steepest learning curve of my career. It’s going to be tough, a whole new challenge. Not just for me but for all of us as we try to juggle a new working pattern. Will it be worth it? I believe it will, but watch this space…
I love this line from Bridget Jones Diary – her attitude towards a total kick in the teeth is what is inspiring me this evening. I am down but I am no way out. My problem is not man related like Bridget’s. Mr Pud is such a good egg, I am a lucky girl. But as Bridget also says
This is the final straw, the one that has broken this Mama’s back. It is time to stop being a victim. Time to stand up and flick a V sign. I am sick and tired of being kicked like a puppy. I am not a puppy, I am a bloody lioness.
Yes today was; as is so eloquently put by Rachel in Friends:
You see today was the culmination of everything I have worked towards being stuck in a blender. Never have I been more demoralised. I can’t give you the details here – I wish I could. Just know that at this point I have to believe that everything happens for a reason.
Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow I am standing up and saying STOP. No more meek acceptance of things that are fundamentally wrong. A life that is damaging my family. To hell with this.
A monster was created today. Granted she is a wounded, slightly beat up monster, but that is what makes her more dangerous. A flicker of burning passion, currently fuelled by a cold hard rage is coursing through my veins. This time I won’t be put off, this time I will strive to achieve my potential.
In a time of rising discontent in so many. In a world where racists and fascists are starting to impact on our very civilisation I can no longer sit back and let the injustices lie. If I can’t fight for myself, how can I fight for my children and for those who are unable to fight for themselves.
This Mama bear has a plan, a goal and by hook or by crook this time I will succeed. Even if I do need to channel my inner Bridget Jones!