I was not an easy kid to raise.

I am a middle child, and the only girl.

I felt like the odd girl out, and I resented it. As a result, I was constantly questioning. Everything! I wanted things to be fair. I demanded a level playing field. I didn’t take no for an answer – I wanted to know WHY!

In my twenties, amidst a disaster of a marriage, and with a chronically ill young child, I looked out my window from my seat beside my sons hospital bed. I saw a school of nursing. Hmm, I thought. Here’s a way I can support my family, and I will always have job security – and health insurance.

Never mind that I had never been around blood, surgery, hospital work, or any patient care, beside my loving but hapless attempts to care for my ill son.

I refused to spend the rest of my life struggling. I knew there had to be more – so I figured out how to go to college, and set about doing it.

I had been terminally bored in high school, giving as little effort as possible and still graduating in the upper part of my graduating class. College, however, was a challenge – and I loved it! Sure, by now I had another child, was pregnant, and was finally getting divorced, but I would find a way to support my soon to be single mom lead family. With abundant help from my church, parents who helped me over several tough hills and paid for childcare, and a lot of stress, I plowed through my prerequisites, and did it on the Dean’s list.

Now the real work began – actual clinicals, patient care, skills labs, and practicing what I was learning.

I distinctly remember my first nursing school instructor giving me my first clinical semester review.

As I sat in her cubicle, she told me I would never make it as a nurse. “Why?” I asked, truly perplexed. “Because you are too high faluting” she responded, with a smirk of disgust. “What does that mean??” She sighed in exasperation. “It means you ask too many questions. Quit asking questions. You are the nurse. Just learn to do the grunt work.”

This did not sit well with me. I took it with a grain of salt – I couldn’t believe that I, as a nurse, was there to change bedpans only. My idea was to know what was going on behind the scenes – to understand the basics of the patient anatomy and physiology. To have at least an idea of the disease processes I was involved with in caring for my patients.

For the rest of my nursing school career, my other instructors liked me. They appreciated my questioning – or at least, they never admonished me for asking them. They encouraged me to never stop learning. They smiled at my enthusiasm.

I graduated in a class of 44- a class that started with over 100 students. I graduated with 10 and 6 year old sons, and a 2 1/2 year old daughter.

I now had a career. Financial security. Health insurance. As a bonus, I loved what I did. I would never stop learning! I could care for people, and everyone was different – the variables were never ending. I constantly picked the brains of my fellow nurses and the physicians I worked with. I ended up working in labor and delivery as well as CCU, loving the autonomy of working with patients one on one.

My dad used to tell me, “Daughter, you have a strong personality. It’s not necessarily a bad thing – it’s just difficult to live with.” (I will say here as an aside that my father was career military, and retired as a Colonel. It may run in the family.)

Relationships were difficult for me. Because of my strong personality, abusive or broken men were drawn to me. Was it the challenge? The nurturing nurse? Who knows. It was a hard couple of decades until I finally figured out I needed to take care of my family – by taking care of me.

Thirteen years ago, I met my husband. Strong enough to handle my personality, but not broken or abusive. A safe partner. A sigh of relief. I continued my nursing career, ironically getting into my longest term job just before I met my husband.

Nine years ago, I was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes. I set about finding about everything I could, and I set my chin to kicking its butt. Over the next few years, I went from sedentary to runner – I ran 22 half marathons and many other races over the last 6 years. I brought my blood sugar down. Why did I get type 2 diabetes? Well, I’d fight it.

Except three years ago, I found out I was misdiagnosed, and actually had type 1 diabetes. This was a whole new kettle of fish. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t overwhelmed. I was not expecting this – I didn’t even know that I could get insulin dependent diabetes at my age!

As if that wasn’t enough, I was diagnosed with asthma that same year.

I felt like I was falling apart.

I had some “woe is me” time. I also had a supportive husband. And kids. Family. And a grandson.

So the girl that has to know why began to ask. Why was this happening? What could I do to make things better? What made things worse? What could I control – and what was out of my control?

Today, I put on the running clothes that I set out each day to motivate me to exercise daily. As I stepped outside to set my running program, a clap of thunder was immediately followed by a downpour. I went back inside.

After lunch, I went out again, under cloudy, thunder free skies. When I had clocked a mile and a quarter, my blood sugars began to drop at a critical rate. Signing, I walked back home, turned off my insulin pump, and recovered from the pending hypoglycemia.

A couple of hours later, I finally completed my 4.6 miles for the day. Out of sheer determination.

I’m a work in progress. I somehow just realized today that my determination has gotten me through a lot in my life. What was seen as a personality flaw as a child is the very thing that is propelling me forward, decades later.

Sheer, stubborn determination. A strong personality…which, as it turns out, can help you overcome fear, failure, pain, and maybe even illness.

After all these years, I’m grateful that I was given this personality. It might just be keeping me alive.