It’s not about you: hospital edition

I legit thought about moving out last week. It was brief, but I thought it.

The thing no one seems to understand about vodou is that it’s participatory. You get what you can, and what you showed up for, in that order. I’m free to go. I’ve always been free to go, and not to my ruin.

It’s just that, really, there’s nothing else I want to do, nothing I find this rewarding, and nothing more worthy of spending my life on than this.

Last week was am emotional roller coaster, mostly because I found myself in possession of some unrealistic expectations about what my life should look like. The problem might be someone else’s, but that doesn’t stop me from being annoyed, aggrieved, upset, or otherwise perturbed by having to experience it second-hand—all of this can be summed up as I don’t get to demand that my life be smooth sailing, and I shouldn’t expect not to encounter anyone else’s problems.

This is, after all, a hospital.