Life has been busy, but I’m not complaining.
Nor am I complaining about how varied my days have been. One day I’m covering minor hockey, the next day I am covering municipal town council, and the third I am covering something else.
I never thought I would see myself as a reporter, but I am loving the variety. I’m loving being able to find out what is going on in the world around me.
This job allows me the same, if not more, variety than I had when I worked on ambulance. I have the variety, but a fraction of the stress.
I’m beginning to see as I progress down this path that keeping my mind active is beneficial. I still have my bad days. We all do. Having a purpose to get my ass out of bed in the morning helps though. Spending the day creatively at my keyboard is much more effective than spending the same time playing video games, and I feel better for it.
The past still does haunt me though. I can never fully define my triggers. It seems that whenever I think I have them sorted out, something comes along and throws me a curve-ball.
For instance, this past Sunday, one of our church members suffered a medical emergency, necessitating an ambulance and fire department response.
The crew on scene didn’t bother me. The fire trucks in front of the church with their lights flashing didn’t bother me. The flashing red lights reflecting off the interior walls of the church threw me for a loop.
I know I was in a safe place. I know I was not in danger. Yet my adrenaline spiked, my breathing became rapid, and I collapsed inward. I don’t remember anything of the church service after seeing that light reflecting off the wall.
Seeing that light took me back in time. It took me to any number of different scenes where the red and white flashing light is what I worked by, trying to save the broken bodies of those injured in collisions. The flashing took me back to the distraught family members of those who didn’t make it, the flashing lights on the scene adding an ethereal aura to the family’s despair.
This serves as a reminder that as much progress as I have made in recent months, I still carry the emotional scars not too far under the surface.
Everyday that passes is another day that progress is made. I don’t, I can’t, deny that. The thing I try to remind myself is that the race of life I am running is a marathon, and not a sprint. As long as I keep the forward momentum going, I’m still in the race, regardless of the stumbles.
I found out today that our church member was released earlier this week, and while they are still not aware of a definitive cause for his issues, he is doing significantly better.
Thanks for following along.