Maybe it’s because I’m 7 months away from being 30, or maybe it’s because I’m getting to the point where I don’t care as much as what people think, or maybe I’m just becoming a jaded crass nurse (hahaha)…but I’m learning to not care as much what people think.
Is that such a bad thing?
First of all, I electrocuted myself whilst trying to paint. I even put it up on Facebook, then I texted Andrew..who wikipedia-ed the major outcomes of such a stupid choice…which is a fatal heart attack. (the black section, yes, behind the light switch where all the wires feed into is something I willingly touched…it was a stupid decision. I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone!)
I knew I was ok. But he insisted that I visit the Emergency Room (ED in Australia). Which I did.
I don’t care what people think about public health care. I’m happy to pay 189.00 to live in a country which supports socialised health. Because it’s a right.
I also decided to get some bangs (fringe, if you live in Australia). I walked into the hair dresser and asked for Taylor Swift bangs..umm I mean fringe (she’s Australian, and bangs sounds crass).
I don’t care if you don’t like bangs..I do however care that in the morning I look even more like a hot mess. Bangs require management daily.
I have decided to put my hand up to work in the new cardiac unit, which meant I had to take a week long trip up to ‘the big smoke’ aka city 1.5 hours drive. I love me some old-school Dixie Chicks.
I don’t care if you don’t like country, but whatever old-school music you like should be sung at the highest volume you can sign at. Promise.
It’s valentines day. This is what I’d like.
I don’t care if you like red roses, I don’t. So I have suggested *hint* *hint* that this would be a fabulous choice from the local flower shop. “Is that the flower shop ran by the two gay guys?”…yes baby, and don’t you forget it
What I’m learning is that I have to begin to watch what my mind says. What words I use. How I think about life, where it’s taking me, and how I interact with it and other people.
I have to learn and realise that I can’t and won’t be able to please everyone. That I need to care about people, but can’t always take on board how they choose to react to things in life. It’s a hard lesson, because for most of my life I forgot to care about myself in order to make everyone around me happy by meeting their demands.
Sometimes, it’s ok not to care. It’s not that I don’t care, it’s that I don’t have to take on more than I can handle…and more than I want to give away. We all have choice in this, and the realisation that you can set yourself free from others judgement and the should’s of your life doing, I think is a monumental and essential aspect of growing up no matter what age you are.