Filing

I've mentioned before that I work at a nursing home, right?

Well, this job is not a dream job by any means (another post for another day) however, I am thankful for it because it really came around when I needed it.

Anywho, the job itself is pretty simple. I act as a receptionist, put together the facility newsletter, and help out as needed. Lately, as needed has pretty much been a whole lotta filing. That whole lotta filling has got me thinking. A whole lotta.

You wouldn't think that filing would be a particulary thoughtful task, and you really wouldn't think that it was an emotional task, and truth be told, the task itself is not. Organize your papers (I do this first because it makes it MUCH easier,) hole punch the papers, find the right binder, find the right section of that binder, stick your papers in, repeat. Actually maybe it is the reptetition that gets me. I get bored and I tend to get distracted and other bits of these jumbo files (think 3" binders) start jumping out at me, and I get to thinking... (Good gracious, you can tell I have been back in the country for a while!)

It is an emotional thing to see the lives of these people contained within the pages of a 3" binder. A picture, a social history, a medical work up. This is 70-80-90 years (plus in some cases) summed up in a few hundred sheets of paper. As massive as they are, they still don't seem massive enough.

And because I am only human, and humans are narcissistic, I start thinking about these charts in regards to how they relate to my own life.

I find comfort in the fact that almost everyone was married at some point in their lives.
I wonder if Gemma will be the one to put me someplace like this one day.
I consider where my last home will be, will I have money saved, what will I look like...

What will my life have been?

And of course, some of what my life will have been is what it is now. Single mom. Receptionist. Living at home.

Ugh.

That is a scary thought. I don't want this to be what ends up in my binder. I just don't.

I want a husband. More children. A profession I am (was?)  passionate about.

Dang, at least I want my own house.

I can't stay in this...this...I don't even know what this is, forever.

I need to take a next step. But what? Where? How? Which direction?

*sigh*

...the things I think about when I'm filing...