The colours this week were a challenge for me with so many shades of grey. I have a self imposed ban on buying new paper for the rest of the year and had to rummage through the dregs to create this page. I had a smidge of an idea to begin with and then, as so often happens the page took off in the opposite direction and created itself in a tizzy kind of way. Soooo not my personal taste, but there it is!
The background paper is by Teresa Collins, it has palest grey pattern which doesn't photograph well.
The largest piece of the banner is Prima and the dotty piece is My Mind's Eye.
A prima mask created the texture and some gelato muddled over the top created the yellow.
The photo frame is cut from My Mind's Eye, "Chalk Studio".
The wooden typewriter is by Studio Calico.
Stripes - On the flower and the Prima paper
Wood - Typewriter
Border - Punched
I went to the Journal Sparks site and was inspired by "Death does not have to be physical - what else feels like death"?
THE JOURNALLING READS
In the middle part of my career, I worked in a private school which educated more than 1,000 students from over 40 countries. 30 of these students had profound disabilities. I had been the School Nurse for 15 years and loved the environment and the students. The role was varied; caring for borders far from home, attending to first aid, dispensing medication, suctioning tracheostomies, treating children with Diabetes, and Asthma, as well as managing other medical emergencies.
When we had a change of Principal and Accounting staff, severe budget constraints were imposed and it was decided that my hours would be cut to half time. Despite written concerns from the staff and parents, the decision was set to be implemented the following year.
Apart from the financial difficulties this would cause me, I was shattered. I felt abandoned, disenfranchised and mortified; as though all the systems I’d put in place to care for the students, the dedication to the College and the extra unpaid hours were worth nothing.
It was a deep wounding to my self worth and identity. “Who am I, if I’m not the School Nurse?” The whole existential question whirled around in my brain until I thought it would explode. My heart ached for the students whose needs would not be met with a half time Nurse. My gut churned with anxiety about how I could re-create myself if I chose to resign. There were very few opportunities to work in schools. Who would employ a middle aged woman, no longer current in acute nursing care? It truly felt like a little death; bleak, black and hopeless.
Fortunately, I had long service leave in the last term. I spent five weeks in Africa, connected to the beauty of the natural world. I was able to distance myself from the politics of my workplace and made the decison to resign from my role, trusting the universe to provide, which it did. I was able to retrain in another field of nursing and was very happy in my new role in Pathology for the rest of my working life.
If you've survived to the end of this post, well done, give yourself a reward like a trip to the scrapbooking shop.