Words have come and gone, but I have not had a moment where enough of them have been able to flow here. At least not with the hope that has been pulsing its way through now.  But at last, here we are, even though I have so much to say, it'll have to come in waves. These words finally feel like my own, like I own them and they are mine. I may not say much for now, but know that it is coming.  My soul is resurfacing, re-connecting, healing. 
This is not a comeback, even a continuation. This is some sort of redemption yes but it's also a whole new me. Not the "new year, new me" type of me. But honestly, excruciatingly, uncensored, discovery. I've shifted my lens recently & it's been life changing. Maybe even life saving. I've come back. I've arose from the ashes. I've walked through fire. I've drown and risen again. Somehow, some way, I've made it. I always have and always do. My track record for survival is 100%. But it's time to make my way back to living, to  thriving.  But this is different. This feels different. This is new. I cannot entirely explain it just yet, all I can say is climb on in and either join team MRB for the ride, or do me the kindness of walking away and rid yourself from my life because I do not need, nor do I want half-in people in my life. I am far too much of everything to get far too little in return. My standards and boundaries have once again altered, and excitement is what follows.  

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There is so much to look forward to, & I've always promised you honesty and transparency. So let's get ready, here we go. 
All my love, mrb. 

I've been lacking inspiration, and to be honest, not giving my passions much of any effort or time in this pandemic. My job demands a lot of me right now, and I am 100% dedicated and okay with that. I've been soul searching as to why my grandma died the way she did, in the moment she did, what was the purpose. I got angry at anyone that told me I was the lucky one to have been there with her in her last moments. I'd get irate, I wanted to pass on the pain to someone else, but also get them to understand how empty it made me feel, how much it paused my grief. 
I fell into a realm in the healthcare field completely randomly. But I thrived very quickly. I gained the knowledge and learned all I could, and am acquiring new knowledge everyday. My confidence grows with each conference, patient and facility. I've finally found a home in the third company in this field. If you would've told me this is what I'd be doing, I'd be entirely puzzled as to how you came to that conclusion. Not now. 
This pandemic has targeted a huge percentage of the general population I manage care for. I take pride in remaining calm (on the outside) in crisis. Being the gatekeeper, the assertive and clear voice. The voice for the patient, whom at first was just my grandma. Now I am advocating for yours and theirs and a person that is someone else's entire world as she was mine. I believe that now maybe this was the plan all along. That maybe me feeling lost truly was me finding my way. I look at each patient as an individual, assess their support team and family, and determine just how much people are advocating for them. While assigning and managing their care is my job, I am also obligated to fight for them, to advocate for them, and to be their voice while they cannot be. To be a clear soundboard, voice of reason, to alleviate the fears. I give reassurance to not only the patients and their families but for the clinicians as well. I take great pride in my team and being a part of it. I am thankful and very grateful for each and every clinician on a normal day, but more so now than ever. I hear the fear in some of their voices, the fear they could potentially get sick and give it to a family member. I hear the ones that plead with me to do all I can to get them the proper PPE so they can do their job because they will continue to do so unless or until they are told otherwise. My team is filled with angels and superstars. 
I think of my grandma when I speak to a concerned family member. I think about all the knowledge I have now that I didn't then, and how they are me. I try to educate and give empathy. We are all scared right now, and I cannot imagine having this added on while I was with my grandma. I tell them what I wish I had known, I make sure clinicians understand so that they don't treat anyone's family member with the ignorance or plain out lack of care we received. I have a passion and a drive for my work and for a long time I thought it was just because I put all of myself into my work no matter what it is. But this is driven by a force far bigger than me. My love for my grandma and the care she deserved but never received. So in this big, giant mess right now, I am inspired. Inspired by my nurses, therapists and other admin staff, both current and past. I am inspired by her in every intense conversation I have pointing out where we can do better, where we need to do better. In every moment I assess a patient, I think of her, and I truly believe she is guiding this journey or at least holding my hand through it. 
I've been exhausted, drained and talked out. Telling families and clinicians that the sky really is not falling when in our world, it sort of is. I am heavy, I feel the weight of every single one of the 200 patients I am dealing with. We have a duty and obligation to be there for them. But I needed to take a step back and do the same for myself. I fight so hard for the voiceless, the weak and the fearful. I forget about myself or deplete me of the energy to do so. This I now believe is where she has stepped in.
I am good at what I do. I am gaining confidence, knowledge and respect. My opinions and voice matters, and it's heard- often. I think that maybe this is where I am meant to be, maybe I am not lost, and going through what I did serves as a reminder to never lose sight of the actual person, just like my grandma. I believe, finally, that maybe I am right where I belong. And today especially, I thank her. 

I have not written in quite some time. At least not something I am able to share with the world. I've been waiting to type my yearly blogpost because I was waiting, hoping for some news on a current situation. However, this is moving at crawling speed on its best day. But here I am. 
2019 was a big year. It was a year so full that I do not know where to start. But earlier this year I felt empty. Such a full year, yet so empty. I began the year on a high. Healthy, motivated, driven, hopeful. This year had also been a year of waiting. Waiting for what screwed up form of justice we so often seek. Waiting for closure, wandering around in attempt to find it. In the wandering I got lost. From myself. My values. My hopes and dreams. My will to live. In the waiting, I drown. I stopped swimming, I lost my fight. Almost halfway through the year I gave up officially in attempt to rid myself of the haunting and taunting pain. I do not regret it, though sometimes I wish I did. Peace. There was a moment of peace somewhere in those moments, so I cannot regret that.
This year I opened my mouth. I not only opened my mouth; I spoke. I spoke of things I never had. This is monumental. This year I stood up for myself in ways I never imagined I truly could. Not only that, but I was believed. These people know who they are and I will forever be thankful for their words, thoughts, feelings, compassion, and support. This year, this year, I think of the word justice. I had an image of it, but never felt it. & even though I still doubt it fully exists, I can see glimpses, felt a bite of it. Now, well now I crave it. Justice. A word that quite possibly held the most weight this year. 
I flourished professionally this year. I entered an entirely new industry and took it by storm. The views on that differ depending on who you speak to, but I have grown immensely due to it. I've demanded to be treated fairly, taken lead in challenging situations, & thrived in directions I didn't know I wanted to go. 
I loved. This year I really loved. I had my heart broken, beaten up and bruised. But I loved. I do not look at it as a relationship failure because I learned. I learned that at the end of the day I know what I deserve and I do not have to settle for less than that. I've learned to walk away from toxic people and I learned that I do not have to compromise my interests and passions for the sake of someone else's happiness or approval. I loved and I lost, but I gained so much wisdom. 2019 drove me away from my family for months, and kept others I had crossed off at bay. 2019 also taught me that it was time to allow them back in, but to maintain my boundaries. I've learned a balance and my relationships have grown with my favorite people in the world, my siblings. I have a new respect, love, and pride for them that is different than I've ever experienced. 
This year I grew. After devastation and trauma I found a balance I was lacking. Things don't have to be black and white, and though I live in the grey, I found that I truly was black and white for so long due to circumstance. I cultivated and encouraged my own thoughts and feelings. I went back to my instincts and started following my gut again. 
2019, you punched me square in the face. Hard. Every time I clawed my way back up, I was thrown another defeating punch. But still I rise. My soul does not know how to give up, but my head did. In great conflict, it has been exhausting. My soul is my guide and when I am conflicted soul, heart, and mind it's unbearable. In  attempt to escape it, anxiety led my head and body to physically give in. The aftermath forced me to figure out multiple variables that I refused to look at. Rising again I sought out anything and everything that ignited my soul. I was back- somewhat. Gaining momentum I began to put myself out there again. 
We discover who we are in times of tragedy, so they say. I'd like to meet "they" because I think they need to re-evaluate that statement. Nearly the end of 2019 I was met with the tragedy to outshine any other. I did not discover myself through it or my strength. I lost. I lost a piece of me that night. I 'd tell you I died that night if I didn't just check my pulse to make sure I am indeed alive. But to be alive doesn't mean we are living. I did not discover anything good in this. I desperately wish I could say otherwise. Trust me when I say I've tried my damndest to. I did learn that our legal system is flawed. It moves painstakingly slowly. I halts when we want it to push forward. But, here is where that word comes back. Justice. I am figuring out what that word has come to mean to me as I grow. This year is filled with yearning for justice. I can finally formulate the thought of it for more than a fleeting second. It does not feel entirely tangible but it's progress. I am currently in the present tense seeking justice for a world screeching, life changing event that deserves some form of it. I am also healing, or at least finally allowing people in so I can attempt to. I am still covered in dirt, muck, and bruises. But my heart is mending, my soul is resting, and my voice is gaining confidence. 
I look back and cringe at 2019 and the promises I both quietly and verbally made to myself. I let myself down this year but I also took hold of my life again. I am relearning how to live, thrive and just be. It's grueling and tiresome, but I am finally beginning to feel rejuvenated. To the Morgan and then the MRB of 2019, I salute you. I hug you, applaud you, & say both thank you and I am sorry. She deserved so much more than she received this last year. But it's time to look forward, only turn back when it's needed. 
To the 2020 MRB, I wish you well. I give you my voice and pray you continue to use it. We just got started and it's up to you to press onward. Stand back up, rise. Just be, rest when you need to. Heal, hurt, and come back again. Get off the carousel and go somewhere worth explorin​g. 2020 is the year of redemption, and anyone in your way doesn't stand a chance. Make this year all you want it to be. 
                                             Good-bye two thousand and nineteen, you were a tornado.
                                                                                The girl on the journey to herself again.