The Color of Mourning

Jacqueline.Damm

I wear my heart on my sleeve. Plain as day. I believe that we wouldn't be nurses if we didn't have some innate desire to care, encourage, teach, soothe or provide tough love. In turn, it can be difficult to find the time and place to allow the flurry of emotion to release and the floodgates open wide. We often miss this step thinking that our steadfast visage is the only means of which we fulfill the ideal of the "ultimate nurse" that is unshaken by the waves of the storm. As a collective, we need to usher out the taboo and allow ourselves to appropriately deal with emotional turmoil, fear, anxiety, disappointment and the like.

For me, my time of release begins as soon as my feet leave the threshold of my hospital and the door of my car is locked. This has become my safe haven, away from responsibility and expectations. Allowing a cathartic relinquish of control has saved me and nurtured my adoration for my career choice. I have been able to forgive, move forward and allow myself to remain open to the next sunrise. Our burden is great and the stressors we face have immense power. But the waves, they come and go. As frequently as blue waters caress the shores, we, in turn, can allow our emotions to be visited, addressed and released.

I attended my first funeral for a patient. The first of my career. This symbolic gesture was needed for my closure. It felt as though it was just as important to the family. It felt as though they needed to see someone who had cared for their loved one. As if my attendance was a part of the puzzle that helped make some sense in what they were facing. Like a waltz, knowing the steps behind and ahead, we were all acknowledging the fight that was lost but the triumph of eternal rest.

The tears were plenty. Tears of frustration. For this beautiful spirit, there was a wall we couldn't climb. There was an aspect of their character that didn't allow for our healing capabilities to reach. Of that I was angry. But oftentimes, we can't fix things. Sometimes it is not in that individual's journey to continue. This knowledge helped me find my peace.

I allowed myself to mourn the soul that had departed, the medicine that could not heal, the interventions that would not take and the possible fear that gripped both patient and family. Because I saw these things for what they were, I could let go of all that had transpired and accept the end result.

We experience the stages of grieving with our daily battles. Please hear me when I say that these are all healthy ways to face the struggles of the nursing profession. We touch the start of a life and we furthermore cradle the end. These gifts bring a certain burden that needs to be released. Returning to our core strength and acknowledging loss can lead to a stronger tomorrow. We are formed by our trials and tribulations. If I held onto my first code, the loss of a young man as his mother screamed in the hallway as she was being held by security, I never would have walked back into work able to participate in patient care again. We experience post-traumatic stress, anxiety and fear just as much as the next person. Though the caliber may be on different levels, it all warrants attention and careful management. If you feel your resolve slipping, take a step back and review what has transpired.

I had a philosophy professor once tell me that meditation allows for the flow of thoughts to present themselves. We need to examine these things and then send them on their way. He likened this experience to watching clouds. They fly in with the wind and exit in peace. This is how I see the workings of my spirit as a nurse. When an emotion comes in full throttle, I see it for what it is, give it the review that it needs and then I let go.

The letting-go process can be tedious, but if ignored can allow for negative patterns to fester and affect us in ways that are detrimental to our mind, body and spirit.

So I mourn. I allow myself to cry.

If I didn't do these things then I wouldn't be able to move forward and take care of the person in the next room who needs a careful touch. I wouldn't be able to run down the hall with the code cart and help to restart a tired heart. I wouldn't be able to see myself in the mirror knowing I've done all that I could.

The next time it hurts, the next time you fear, and the next time that anxiety grips your chest in pain, stop. Stop. Breathe. Make a mental note or write it down. Visit your need later. Care for it the same way you care for your patients.

Give yourself the same honor you bestow on those that cross your path.

You owe yourself that much.

The Color of Mourning

About Jacqueline.Damm

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