No matter the situation, you always have two options. You either give up or you get on with your life. You either live or you die.
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When I was in my early 20’s I found myself working at a psychiatric hospital. At the time, I was too young to know what I was walking into. How intense the job would be. The things I would leave work thinking about. The realities I would be exposed to on a daily basis. The emotions I would feel.
But it didn’t take long for me to find out.
The first few days at work were a serious adjustment period for me. Things moved fast and although the rigorous training program for new employees was helpful, I mostly learned on the job. I made mistakes. Lots of mistakes. But I kept putting one foot in front of the other.
I wish I could say that things got easier as I got more comfortable working there, but it was the exact opposite.
As time went by, the gravity of the job started to take hold of me.
The more entrenched I got in the job the more it hurt. The more I got to know the patients, the more I wanted to help. But the closer I got to the patients, the more I realized that there was often little I could do.
Even though the realities of the job were heartbreaking in many ways, I was getting the hang of things.
I started forming bonds with patients. I started anticipating where I would be needed. I started to understand the way things worked at the hospital.
And then a few words on a piece of paper threw me completely off track.
Each patient at the hospital had a chart. These charts contained background information about each patient’s history, medical conditions, and what they were receiving treatment for. We were required to read each patient’s chart as soon as they were admitted to make sure we understood their medical situation. But in the whirlwind of getting acclimated to the job, I fell behind reading through the charts.
About two weeks into the job, I was catching up on one patient’s chart and I found out that they were HIV-positive from birth. It crushed me. This person was vibrant, fun, outgoing, and one of the most well liked patients at the hospital. This person wasn’t even 18-years old.
In that moment, I realized that so many people are dealing with situations that we have no way of knowing about. There’s no sign hanging above their head that says what they’re going through. They’re quietly struggling even as everything on the surface appears fine.
Thanks to medical advancements, being HIV-positive is something that can be managed and many people are living long and productive lives with the disease. But it’s still an extremely serious medical condition. One that can create many complications.
Even knowing the disease could be managed; it still shook me to my core that this person had been living with this reality since they were old enough to understand what being HIV-positive meant.
I was blindsided. I was beside myself. But I held it together until my shift ended.
I started crying on the bus home. I had tears streaming down my face as strangers tried not to stare.
In that moment, I couldn’t reconcile the cruelty of life. It didn’t make sense. There were so many things I didn’t understand.
How could someone so young, bright, and positive have such a serious health condition?
How did they muster the strength to get out of bed everyday?
Where did they get the courage to carry on with their life?
I had no perspective on the situation. It was so difficult for me to relate.
After weeks of struggling, I finally had an epiphany.
Everything is a choice.
No matter the situation, you always have two options. You either give up or you get on with your life. You either live or you die.
This person had to keep getting out of bed every day. They had to keep carrying on with their life. They had to be positive. The only other option was giving up.
From that point forward, whenever I saw someone dealing with a seemingly incomprehensible life situation, I knew why they kept going. They kept going because there’s no other reality for them. They kept going because they had to.
After that, I stopped trying to reconcile the cruelty of life. The only productive thing to do was to keep going, keep moving forward. This patient and millions of people in similar situations are moving forward with their lives every single day.
Just knowing that inspired me beyond words.
I only lasted about nine months at the psychiatric hospital. Call it burn out. Call it not being mentally prepared for what the job entailed. Call it quitting. Call it whatever you want, I just couldn’t do it anymore.
For a number of reasons, I know it will be the most difficult job I’ll ever work. I make that statement with 100% certainty even without any concrete idea about where life will take me next.
Despite how challenging it was to work there, I learned more in my short time there than I thought possible. Perhaps the most important thing I learned was to stop trying to reconcile the cruelty of life. It’s much more productive to move forward. I saw the power of that mentality first hand. I’ll never forget it.
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Sometimes the ones we think are unfortunate sufferers are the ones who really have the edge. Until there are challenges, life cannot be appreciated. I lived a protected bubble life until tragedy struck. Yes, I was forced to decide (as I still am now) to give up or go on. The choice is empowering, and I would not have opened doors to possibility and make other choices that improved my life–deciding to do what I loved after putting it aside all my life–had I not made that initial choice not to fold in under suffering. An easy life is not… Read more »
Thanks for your insight. It’s inspiring to hear and interact with people who have gone through these kinds of challenges. Empowering is a great word to use in this case. We’re a lot stronger and more courageous than we think we are, sometimes it just takes a certain set of circumstances to bring out those characteristics.