Monday, October 28, 2013
Silence is the Language of Hell
This is Natalie, the wandering neighborhood black cat my parents adopted. She lives the ultimate life of luxury. She's a Scottsdale cat.
I've been down here for a few days and I'm decompressing. Not a lot of productive work yet but it feels good to be in a different setting, different scenery. I went running on the canal yesterday for the first run I've done since before my calf cramped into a knot a week ago.
I often miss Scottsdale when I come down here in winter on those perfectly clear days, when the temperature is perfect. It's still hot, in the 90s but once the sun goes down it's perfect.
But then I see the massive construction projects, the traffic, and the brown haze on not so clear days, and I remember why I left.
Last night we went out to Malee's with a friend of my parents who has been a nurse for over 40 years. She's a consultant and a free agent, independent. She's been through the system and through the wringer and sees what it does to people. But she decided to take control of her own life instead of allowing herself to be used by the system.
She and I had war stories to tell. One of the things we talked about was the generational divide, of how it seems like the fight has all but disappeared, that people are no longer willing to protest what they feel are injustices in the workplace.
Like I've said before, it is a systemic problem, not limited to health care or nursing, but people just seem defeated and willing to accept that they are going to be squeezed to death in the workplace, and accept the fact that the highly paid executive class will make millions while most people are lucky to hang on paycheck to paycheck.
People seem resigned to this, they don't seem to have any willingness to push back. Look at what our government has been doing. Nothing! And we allow that!
If you decide to stay in hell, that's your choice. You do have a choice. Even if you think you need that paycheck, realize that the choices you made are the ones that adjust the thermostat of your personal hell. It's one thing to sit there at work and bitch, but at some point if you're unhappy you need to decide what to do about it. Instead of burying your frustration and blowing off steam over and over again, making yourself sick, there is another way.
It took me a year to move from an initial slap in the face to where I am now, on the verge of stepping into free agency, as a nurse entrepreneur. That's not a lot of time, even though it felt like hell along the way, and it ain't over yet.
If you don't say something, you are condoning free reign of those people who are bloodthirsty and waiting with daggers...
The problem with silence is that it's collusion with the devil. Not speaking up is the easy way out, but it's not out. It's being stuck and accepting the conditions that hurt everyone else, including yourself. Silence is the language of hell. I'm saying it again. Shouting.
SILENCE IS THE LANGUAGE OF HELL!
Speaking out sheds light on the problem. It's only when a certain number of people speak loudly and clearly enough to awaken the masses that things can be changed. We're at a power disadvantage only when we don't use our own power.
I'm relaxing in the courtyard enjoying the cool morning air and the late fall Arizona sunrise, drinking my coffee. I have some serious business and fun in store for today and tomorrow.
The fun part is I'm going to be "guest bitcher" on a podcast tomorrow. I intend to not just bitch but talk about solutions. Still, it will be fun to bitch about things! I'll post the link as soon as it's up.
The serious part, but hopefully fun too, is working on some financial plans on Tuesday.
Later today I'm going out to lunch with a fellow nurse who has been through the ultimate hell. I'm meeting Amanda Trujillo.
I've always wanted to talk with her in person, and I know that her case is controversial, but I also know what big powerful interests can do with money for legal clout to beat up on the little people. And Arizona is not known for nice politics...between Sheriff Joe, Jan Brewer, the recent Arizona Medical Board scandal, and a long history of slimy political figures.
I'm off to run on the canal again...if I don't come back, look for black helicopters that say Maricopa County Sheriff...I might be shackled in pink underwear in Tent City if I'm not at the bottom of the Arizona canal covered with carp hickeys.