episode ninety-four // all too well

I started this blog, ultimately, because I was having trouble connecting with others. They couldn’t understand what I was going through or why I was upset. The blog helped me let out a lot of those feelings without requiring as much of other people’s validation. It was a lonely concept but, when my friends began to read said blog some said it was helpful in understanding what I’m going through. Others said it was too much.

Either way, this blog has existed since 2017 and a lot happened that I never wrote down. It never graced the pages of the blog, not because it wasn’t important but, because I was just trying to chug through and survive, no time to write a 10min song like T Swift.

My life has truly fallen apart in an extravagant fashion. Even worse as I attempt to pick up the pieces some seem to just disintegrate or disappear making me question whether they were ever real at all. That’s what years of manipulation and gaslighting can do to a person.

Being a nurse is something I was proud of. Nurses are smart, courageous, intuitive and kind. Or so I thought. Turns out not all nurses are created equal. I was shown in the harshest way that I was less then. After leaving inpatient, I got a job in an outpatient pediatric clinic. Much like your everyday pediatrician the clinic sees kids when they were healthy and needed shots; and when they were sick and needed medicine. Nothing like the speed and challenge that inpatient was. But, on the other side of the clinic there was the infusion center. Similar to what I did inpatient, they give chemo and blood product. They even see some of the same kids I got to know working inpatient. I expressed my desire to go there from the beginning. I wouldn’t get my chance until a year later after I was passed up for the position and it was offered to my friend who had been there less time than I had. Management then tried to gaslight me and say they didn’t know that I even wanted to work at infusion center which was a bold face lie. Based on the fact that after I called that out I was told I could get my opportunity, I knew I was right. And now I wish it would have never happened at all.

I did an orientation at the infusion center. I had good days and bad days. My critiques were either super broad or super situationally specific. I couldn’t win. It was mentioned at every meeting even the ones that didn’t have any critiques that it was ok if infusion center was not what I thought it was and there’s no shame in saying it’s not for me. They would say this even after I expressed that I loved it. It’s not a lie that I loved the work and the patients, it was the social aspect that I seemed to fail every-time. My preceptor started great and then the relationship quickly devolved into something truly awful. She would follow me around taking notes and I began getting very anxious around her. I began forgetting things and missing stuff luckily never anything dangerous but, it was always a big deal to my preceptor. She said some wildly inappropriate things. She twice said that I “used too many words” and then the second time she added that “sometimes I have to drown you out.” Which doesn’t make anyone feel good but, also my pressured speech was an anxious response. Due to prior experiences I didn’t feel comfortable bringing this up to my preceptor alone so, I did it in a meeting with the manager.

I started by saying that I know she says I “use too many words,” and to my horror my preceptor and manager broke out into laughter. I thought to myself well here comes one hell of a punchline. I followed with that she said she drowns me out and that it didn’t make me feel great. I gave her alternatives to say if she needed me to simplify what I was saying. I gave her the benefit of the doubt that she didn’t mean anything by it and she played along well. But, after that everything changed. I was held to expectations that could never be defined for me, I was supposed to meet landmarks that also weren’t set in stone, and she couldn’t identify a problem “it’s just not working.” My preceptor tried to talk me out of staying the course. She suggested I go back to inpatient to “improve my skills,” which is offensive and dismissive. She tried to gaslight me into believing it had been longer than it was on orientation and that I should be more independent. She called out every weakness I had, spun me around 3 times and then sent me to my manager hoping that finally this time I would get the hint and quit. But, that didn’t happen.

No, I instead waited for the manager crying in the hallway for 30 minutes as my coworkers from pediatric clinic stumbled upon me and gave me hugs of support. In that thirty minutes I did the math. My preceptor obsessively kept saying that it had been 7 weeks which would equate to 35 days on the floor. But, I only work 4 days a week and I was pulled to work in pediatric clinic when we were short. So, in the most generous of estimates I was at least 2 weeks short. I talked to my manager I said I didn’t want to quit, she said she didn’t know where 7 weeks came from but to take the time to think about what I wanted. I talked to Jazz my therapist that night and was validated that this didn’t smell right. The next morning I told the manager that if she gave me the 13 days I was missing I know I can do this. She responded that she still didn’t know where the 7 week metric is coming from but, ok.

My preceptor and manager went on vacation the following week, I had 2 great days in the infusion center with other nurses precepting me. Then when my manager returned she informed I was being taken off orientation and would be given a resource (this person was never identified to me). Only one day of orientation would be considered in determining my fate which leads me to believe the decision had been made long before. I had taken too long hanging a medication apparently and no other circumstances were taken into account. When I tried to tell her why my manager said she didn’t need explanation. That’s when I knew it was a wrap. She “had to think about the rest of the nurses,” and I was slowing them down.

I wish I could say that I held my head up high and took this in stride but, I didn’t. I cried in the infusion center managers office until my head was throbbing. I explained that it felt personal and that there was something wrong with me which she denied and said “don’t ever say that,” but there was no other explanation and she couldn’t and didn’t give me one until weeks later. I said to her that I had no more opportunities in the city to work with Pediatric Hematology/Oncology kids to which she offered that I could volunteer and named organizations in the community some of which I already work with. One specifically has a location in a neighboring city that was built with money from my friend’s memorial fund that was started after she died of brain cancer. It was a slap in the face, she didn’t know why I was invested in this population as much as I was and truthfully I don’t think she cared. I told her I didn’t feel like I was given a fair shot to which she said that that hurt her feelings. Her feelings…that’s what mattered.

I would literally have to move if I wanted to work as a  pediatric hematology/oncology nurse again. I was essentially bullied off of two units. And in both cases, the perpetrators of the bullying had done this before and management knew. In my inpatient job, my managers became bully’s themselves. The situations had I documented them well enough would have most likely been an HR nightmare for the hospital. But, I was naive and I bought in to the culture of fear, shame and retaliation. My only answer inpatient was to leave because speaking out only got me in more trouble. Outpatient I stayed quiet and suffered and it didn’t matter.

The manager at infusion center also said to me that her unit isn’t for everyone and that plenty of nurses tried it out and then made the mutual decision that it wasn’t for them. I looked into her eyes and I said “the difference is this isn’t mutual.” Not much more was said after that. She asked at one point if I ever thought about going to the employee assistance program for therapy…I told her I had it covered. Maybe if my leadership wasn’t actively trying to gaslight me I would be in better spirits.

I left that room humiliated, I still am humiliated. I don’t know if that pain will ever go away. When I followed up with her for clarification on what exactly happened that made me unfit to stay she said I wasn’t progressing at the speed the like to see per my preceptors. I pointed out that the speed was never defined. There were no goals or milestones or expectations. Just my preceptors word against mine. She just said that don’t have anything like that and she has to trust her staff. When you don’t define the boundaries you can say someone was inbounds or out of bounds at any time, no one would be the wiser. Only the people that have experienced it know that it wasn’t right. But, how many of them were convinced the decision was “mutual” and that it wasn’t for them. Shamed into silence.

Yesterday was Pediatric Heme/Onc nurse day. It hit me like a train. Posts all over Instagram, flowers, free lunch. I would forgo all of that just to do that job the way I know I can. To help those kids. Isn’t that what it’s supposed to be about?

Several of my coworkers at pediatric clinic have asked and I never say it was mutual. I say the manager didn’t think it was a good fit and the response is always “what?!!” Their shock makes me feel better because I still feel that way. A huge part of my identity stripped away. I don’t know who I am in so many ways. I’ve lost so much confidence and I have no idea what I’m going to do next. I just try to remember that 8 years ago, I left the private university I had been planning on attending for the good part of two years after less than a week because of my mental health. I was so ashamed and I didn’t know who I was anymore. But, I came home and enrolled in community college where I would end up meeting my best friends, getting my nursing degree, studying abroad in Iceland, and learning about how powerful my voice really was. It wasn’t easy or comfortable actually it was really fucking hard but, I got through it and got my dream job inpatient which I was able to cherish for the most part.

I try to remember that it took my lowest moment 8 years ago to reach some of my highest highs that I’ve had since. So, what comes next is a mystery to me. I never thought I’d be in community college best friends with a music major that used to work at NASA. Like wtf?

Still healing and dealing.

Sincerely,

Your Strong Female Lead

episode ninety-three // don’t call it a comeback

You hear the song “Everyday” by ASAP Rocky, the camera fades into a shot of my very unique and easily identifiable crocs, as the song goes on the camera pans out to show me simply just walking to my car after work not noticing the camera. The words “Don’t call it a comeback” flash across the screen in bold white lettering and then “Strong Female Lead” comes across the screen under it “Returns 10/10/22.” The clip goes immediately viral, everyone so excited to see what I’ve been up to and what I will do next.

I have quite the imagination.

It’s been over a year since I’ve posted on this blog. It’s not like there hasn’t been stuff to post about. A lot of trauma. I left my dream job because I was afraid if I stayed any longer I would begin to resent it. I left because the narrative about me, that I was anxious all the time and crumbled under pressure, was quite literally unshakable. And the inappropriate way my boss and other leadership (some not all) discussed my mental health with me was enough to drive anyone away. I was not given the same chances as others because of my mental health, because of the perception of me. Not to mention the way patients with mental illness were discussed by other nurses on the floor. It was disturbing. I frequently will feel sorry for myself and think about how unfair it is that I had to leave my job that I loved because others didn’t know how to treat me with respect. And it is unfair, so many things in life are unfair. Sometimes I need to remember to put it in perspective, usually my day to day life will do that for me. I went from working with children with cancer and sickle cell anemia to working with the underserved children of our community and children with complex medical histories.

It’s different but, the reality check occurs in the same way.

My new job is less acute. I mostly give immunizations or the same couple meds. I’m not doing as much assessment or planning as I was before. I have to admit it’s a shock to the system and something I’m still struggling with. My job was always such a huge part of my identity, I got that from my dad. I would pick up time at work as a coping mechanism all the time. I can’t do that at clinic…clinic closes. And my leadership team is all about the work life balance…I still don’t know what that is. So, there’s a huge hole in my identity and I don’t know what will fit there. I thought maybe I could still pick up time on my old floor but, my old boss shut that down quick. I think that what I said in my exit interview might have come around to her. I don’t regret anything I said. Calling out injustice is never the wrong thing to do.

I have been trying to find a hobby, it has not been going well. I got into formula 1 and the wnba which has been good for me I think. But, otherwise I don’t know what to do with my time other than go to target.

I started a podcast with two friends that has slowly died out. I almost got diagnosed with Narcolepsy, my mom had a few terrifying health scares, I got bangs, and I had my heartbroken into a million little pieces.

Surprisingly the bangs predated the heartbreak.

There was a girl who showed interest in me. She had a long distance girlfriend who she barely talked about to me. It was very confusing right up until today when she told me she’s leaving the city forever moving home to a state far away from here and then moving in with her girlfriend who is in a country far away from here. Sick.

Even losing a friend this way would be shitty but, I can’t explain it other than it hurts. It feels like I have been used to give her attention while her girlfriend is across the ocean.

I told my friend Olive I was going to confront her about how she played me. I wrote this whole speech about it and said I was going to tell her after work. Olive replied that maybe I should wait a day to see how I feel. By the time I read that a couple hours later, I was able to reassure Olive that I had already chickened out. It doesn’t help anyone and could potentially hurt someone I care about. The next number of weeks up until she leaves will be tough. But, I’ve always asked to feel and be normal. This kind of heartbreak is unfortunately normal.

My good friend Sabrina who I worked with at my old job and who has surprisingly evaded the blog until now, offered jamming out to heartbreak anthems in the car at max volume. I wasn’t ready for that yet but I’m sure I will be.

For now as I drive myself home after dropping Sabrina off from getting Starbucks, the song “Sadtown USA” by Carol Ades begins playing. When I arrive home and get out of the car the screen fades to black and the credits start rolling.

Here’s to another season.

Sincerely,

Your Strong Female Lead

episode ninety-two // apartment 4

CW: Self harm

Five years. A lot can happen in 5 years, a lot did. And most of it happened in the apartment I just officially moved out of. I got accepted and graduated from nursing school while living in that apartment. I started my first nursing job while living there. I braved quarantine alone in that apartment. I created so many bonds, I cried over lost friendships. I cried over boys, I started this blog, I came out as bi. I got drunk for the first time in that apartment. The most major of life events obviously. And the primary constant was my Apartment number 4.

Living alone for the first time (except for my short stint in the dorms) was definitely a process. My apartment would get so messy depending on my mental state and it was a cycle. I haven’t mastered keeping my space super organized but, I’m certainly better about clutter. I got rid of so much stuff in my move. I would have never been able to that even a year ago. The progress I made with my hoarding tendencies are off the charts. But, I will say that seeing how much I hoarded brought back the feelings that caused me to hoard in the first place. I was transported back to times of pure anxiety and obsession. I worked through it though. And although it was exhausting I feel like I really achieved something. 

I’m going to miss a lot of the characters that I encountered at that apartment complex. People I never spoke to but, whose stories I had created in my head. I will mostly miss Machine-gun Shady (a mix between Machine gun Kelly and Eminem aka slim shady obviously). He is the most reoccurring character. We seemed to be always coming/going at the same time. By the end we would wave. I will miss him and his saggy pants that he wore with a belt. The belt was doing no work. The best I have at my new place is this older gentleman that stands on his fire escape and smokes cigarettes and has a very loud air conditioner. Doesn’t quite have the same ring to it as Machine-gun Shady but, we will work on it. I think I’ll miss MGS the most. 

I do associate that apartment with a lot of tough times. Captains relationship with Annie, losing my friendship with Heather and several other friends, and at least 100 emergency phone calls to Jazz. Another huge life event, if you want to call it that, I self-harmed for the first time in that apartment. Heavy stuff. 

I did grow through this pain though. And it truly does feel like I’ve started a new chapter. Change is something I really struggle with but, moving into my new place was a change I haven’t questioned since I moved in. That’s huge.

It was a gradual transition to saying goodbye to apartment 4. I had half the month of August and all of September to go through stuff and move. I dreaded going back to apartment 4, it was the last thing I wanted to do in my limited time off. My Mom was a huge help and I quite literally could not have done it without her. So, on the last day when we were going through the final items left and cleaning to get hopefully some of our security deposit back, I saw it as a job that had to be completed not a symbolic end to what I would consider my early twenties/college years. It wasn’t until we packed the final box and my Mom asked me if I wanted to go in and say goodbye that it hit me, I’m never going to live here ever again. And as I walked back to the apartment and opened the door, hearing the squeak of the hinges that were so familiar, but looking into a place that no longer was, I realized that I was ready to leave, I was ready to grow up. 

I looked around one last time. Then I shut the apartment door with the accompanied squeak of the hinges and walked to my car and drove into a new life. Ha, just kidding it wasn’t that dramatic at all. 

I felt relieved. I returned my keys the next day and it was super anticlimactic. I said bye to my first apartment and it felt really good.

Don’t worry though, my front door at my new place squeaks too, arguably louder.

Sincerely,

Your Strong Female Lead 

episode ninety-one // scrambled eggs

TW: Suicidal Ideation, Terminal Illness, Cancer

Hello everyone. My brain is scrambled eggs at the moment. A new term for when things in my mind are unmanageable or out of control. I haven’t had this much anxiety on my plate in so long. I think it’s been building up throughout the summer all coming to a sharp point that pops the balloon of dissociation and distraction that’s been preserving me letting me fall down just to be brutally reminded of the reality all at once as I hit the ground and get smushed like a pancake. Going for a breakfast theme I guess.

Here I am, hoping that someone will come and scrape me off the ground, someone to take care of me while I process because the processing takes time and energy and those are 2 things I’ve been lacking lately.

I have a lot of updates since we last spoke. I moved into a new apartment that I love, my job is going decently well, I’m on track to get my jaw pain fixed, I met my wonderful and curious nephew and I finally got the color changing lights that you control on your phone. Those are good, even great things. And they have gotten me by for quite a while. I’ve been distracted by that but, then came the fatigue. I haven’t felt awake in months it feels. No matter how much sleep I get or the caffeine I drink nothing seems to prevent the heaviness of my eyes or the fogginess of my brain. This began to concern me when I realized this correlation with a series of inflamed lymph nodes I was having and some potentially concerning lab work. 

I finally went to the doctor. I saw the NP at the office and she felt my lymph nodes and said she couldn’t feel anything of significance, she mentioned that my fatigue could be related to my rotating shifts (as if I hadn’t considered this), and said to schedule a head/neck ultrasound but, to quote her “it was not urgent.” I asked if she was going to redraw labs because of my previous abnormal results of white blood cells (immune system) and CRP (metric of inflammation in the body) and the fact that I was having trouble with my lymph nodes (which were an inflamed part of my immune system) her answer was “I wasn’t planning on it.” Let’s just say I changed her mind.

I couldn’t schedule the ultrasound until October and based on her lack of urgency I wasn’t concerned by this timing either. I got the labs drawn and awaited results.

My labs came back abnormal again. Both labs elevated even more than they had been in previous blood work. Nothing catastrophic but, considering my other symptoms, definitely of note. I messaged my provider and inquired about this. They responded with a message that they had moved my Ultrasound to Monday at 11:30am and hoped that worked with my schedule if not they could potentially fit me in tomorrow. 

The change of tone was jarring. Something that seemed like a “just in case” turned into a crucial piece of information about my health very quickly. I was lucky that the ultrasound did work in my schedule but, I also requested further lab work. As an Oncology nurse, my brain was going in one direction at this point and I wanted to rule-in something because the 4 days of waiting for the rule out would be excruciating. If you haven’t caught on yet, I was concerned about Cancer.

I know it seems like a drastic and dramatic jump. But, I’ve seen diagnosis found on much much less. A kid comes in for a bike accident or there’s routine lab work before getting their tonsils out, all of sudden your life is changed. Not to mention H’s diagnosis which came related to her episodes of syncope at a field hockey tournament. Life happens, and I had way too much information about how. 

They agreed to do the lab work but, stressed to me they didn’t believe this was a connective tissue or autoimmune disorder. I brushed this off, not because I thought I knew better, but because it contradicted my rule-in method which at the time was all that I felt was between me and serial panic attacks. 

I worked all day Thursday (the day they okayed the labs) but, was hopeful to go to the lab on my lunch break. Which I would quite literally never advise anyone to do but, remember we are fully engrossed in the rule-in method and we can’t rule it in without the labs. The lab stated that it was going to be a 30-45 minute wait which was over the time allowed for my lunch break. I ended up actually getting food and returning to the floor in defeat, googling the hours of various nearby phlebotomists. All were just out of reach of my clock-out time of 7:30pm which in itself is always wishful thinking. I sat in the conference room with my lunch and because I had told my coworker I was going to get labs drawn she asked how I did it so fast, this was in front of my units nurse educator. I explained and that’s when my unit educator stated one of the weirdest perks I’ve found out about being an inpatient nurse. “I can draw your labs,” and with those words, a couple of needle pokes, and a few tubes of my blood; the rule-in method was back in action and I refreshed my email for new lab results probably 20 times an hour from that moment until Saturday night. 

At this point because of the massive bruise my Nurse Educator left on my arm while drawing my labs, everyone generally knew what was going on with me. Conversations about the topic always consisted of this dialogue in some form: they would said “it’s not lymphoma!” And then I would look at them and turn my head and they would quickly add in “well I can’t say for sure but…” which is when everyone I spoke to also became fans of the rule-in method. Over the next two days everytime I got a result back I would disappointingly go up to a group of my coworkers and say “it’s not lupus” or “my thyroid is clear.” Which are normally relieving pieces of information however, not in the rule-in method. The most painful was Rheumatoid Arthritis which, would not only explain my abnormal labs but also my chronic pain dating back to my pre-teen years. Solving many problems. Would be big points if we could rule that in. But, unfortunately I was negative for the Rheumatoid factor. As I checked things off the list I realized that the rule-in method may be increasing the anticipatory anxiety of my coming ultrasound than decreasing it. But, we were all in now and when I received my last negative result Saturday morning I was all but convinced I had cancer. 

Over the weekend I struggled…a lot. My brain as I said was scrambled eggs. Any information I received was put into the thought spiral and twisted into the most negative interpretation. I was walking through a mine field and it felt like I didn’t miss a single mine. I worked overnight Sunday into Monday and wish I could say work was a good distraction. But, the reality was that all I could do was run through scenarios over and over in my head. 

I was able to sleep a bit before the test which was beneficial because it kept me off google and passed the time quicker. I had to be in that night for work and thought about what I would say if I needed to call off because of my diagnosis. “I can’t come in tonight, I have cancer.”

I was shaking by the time I got to the ultrasound. 15 minutes early, a rarity for me. I sat in the waiting room watching the Price is Right sitting across from an elderly woman falling asleep sitting up. If they called her name I can assure you she didn’t hear it. 

When it was time the hallways felt so long and full of open doors. I looked at the room numbers thinking about which ones would be lucky numbers and which other ones felt like malignant ones. It felt so cold and lonely. 

I couldn’t even tell you what number room I went in after all. The ultrasound tech asked if there was a specific spot or several. I answered several and she said that they would do an entire neck mapping. 

If you’ve never had an ultrasound before there’s a few things that I need to explain. Number one is that I always thought the gel would be cold but no it was warm and very uncomfortable. I felt bad for telling my past patients how it wasn’t weird feeling at all because I was a liar for sure even if I didn’t know it. The second is that they move the ultrasound probe around the area they are imaging and press some keys to take a picture of what they are looking at and it makes a very specific beep. She did my right side first, away from the screen, and all I could do was listen to the “click click clack beep” and feel the gross warm gel be moved around on my neck that was already sore. When I got to see the screen I watched every second. I asked myself “is that cancer?” And beat myself up for not looking up ultrasound images of cervical lymphoma on google so I would know what I was looking for. Thankfully though, the left side was easier to tolerate because of the distraction. 

And then it was over.

I was told it could take a day or two to get results. I didn’t care at this point. I already felt I knew. I called my mom who ended up being on her way to give me a surprise hug in the parking lot of the doctors office. I asked if she just meet me at my apartment instead. 

I cried the whole way back, I cried taking my meds, I cried hugging my mom, and I cried falling asleep. I was terrified of the unknown and I would like to believe I was even terrified of dying. 

As someone with chronic passive suicidal ideation you would think that a health scare such as this wouldn’t be as world shaking. I have thoughts daily about ending my life, what’s the difference if it’s a terminal illness? I sat with this for a long time over that weekend. And still I don’t know what the difference was. Because in all honesty it would be easier if it was an illness that was physical, for my family anyway. But, it gave me hope that the life I was building was worth living and in the back of my head I knew that. 

My mom tucked me into bed just like she did so many nights when I was a kid. Telling me it would be alright and knowing in my heart of hearts that she didn’t know that for sure. I was never naive enough to think that she could control the unknown but, I always appreciated her willingness to pretend for me.

I woke up to my alarm for work at 5:30pm. I checked my phone…the results were already back.

“No cervical lymphadenopathy”

That’s it. No swelling in my cervical lymph nodes, no disease, just a health neck. I cried again. Ruling out cancer was a huge relief that so many in my life didn’t/don’t get to experience. This was not lost on me. 

I still had the neck pain, but it wasn’t cancer and I could work with that.

I informed the people who had helped me through the previous days. It felt like it solidified it. And then I went to work.

After getting the actual rule-out I had very little time to process everything until now. How heavy that stress was, that I was never going to see my niece and nephew grow up, or work as a nurse again, or see my cousins get married, or grow old with my friends. But also the stark difference between those thoughts and my chronic ideation of ending my life myself. 

Scramble eggs man. 

To be happy for someone but, also nervous about their choices. To love someone but, not to like them. To not like your job but, terrified to get fired. To want so badly to die but, then to be terrified of getting a terminal illness. 

These are just some of the contradicting ideas that play table tennis in my brain. Back and forth. The discomfort of the unknown, of not knowing what is “right” and to have to live with the concept that both can be true. It’s painful. But, it’s progress.

In the past I would not be able to verbalize the contradictions for they would be too overwhelming. Now I list them for you, not because I’ve conquered them because I definitely have not, but because I can see them and I’m working on accepting them. We are all hypocrites. We all have contradicting ideas and beliefs or opposing behaviors and values. We don’t always walk the walk if you know what I’m saying. And truly at times I envy those who can ignore it. But, I can’t. So, I learn to sit with the dissonance and I live my life with gratitude. Because I am still here, alive, and I’m lucky to be.

I hope that it won’t take me nearly as long to write another post. Im attempting to become more mindful and practicing staying in the moment. Staying in this reality is essential snd writing does help that.

Sincerely,

Your Strong Female Lead 

episode ninety // it’d be ok if you were

Who would have thought that listening to a 17 year olds album about her heartbreak would lead me to a place of self-acceptance and discovery. But, maybe I needed to go back to the time when I lost myself, 17 years old, to find myself again.

At 23, almost 24, I was arrogant enough to think I had done so much work on myself that there were a lot of things I still needed to change and improve on, but not much more to uncover. We uncovered family dysfunction, self-hatred, an imposter complex that seems to be a major theme throughout my life and more. But, I thought I saw all of me, knew the pieces. 

I couldn’t have been more wrong. 

Let’s take a few steps back. The album release I speak of is Olivia Rodrigos debut album ‘SOUR’ that details her treacherous break up with co-star Joshua Bassett. Oh yes I do know all the tea, I work in pediatrics gotta keep up. Now, realistically the music itself, although powerful, did not directly lead to my new found self awareness but, with the release of each single and then finally the album it created a timeline of the growth I’ve made and I will forever associate the album with it.

With my coming out story.

When drivers license came out in January of this year I was on Tik tok all the time. How else do we spend our time during the second major wave of the pandemic. I was half vaccinated and I was bored out of my mind. I followed a variety of people but, it seemed as soon as I opened the app it identified me as a great candidate for the gay side of tik tok. I didn’t think too much of it. I love Drag Queens, I love theater, it made sense! 

By the time Olivia’s second single “Deja Vu” came out on April 1st I was deep into lesbian TikTok. I had discovered Sedona Prince and the NCAA woman’s basketball March madness. My excuse for being so invested: supporting women in sports duh? I had my first girl crush. The 6’7” basketball star that seemed to make many girls go into self proclaimed “bi panic.” The comments on these videos were filled with that.

But, it was around this time I did start asking myself the questions that I avoided all my life.

Growing up my mother was very supportive of LGBTQ+ community and it was definitely not something I grew up sheltered from. If anything my mom embraced it. And during my pre-teen to teenage years she may have embraced it too much. 

I didn’t really talk about boys or have any dates during that time and my tomboy demeanor definitely stuck out from my friends. My mother, being the observant woman she is, wanted me to know that I was supported no matter what. This is when the phrase “it’d be ok if you were” came into play. Throughout my life my mother has said those 6 words to reference that if I was into girls it was cool with her. But, instead it gave my a complex that made me believe that the reason boys weren’t interested in me was because I looked like a Lesbian. I mean my own mother thought this it couldn’t be that far off right? I became anxious about this. I want to say that I don’t think I was afraid of being gay but, I don’t think that’s true. For years I would attend pride in a shirt with some saying on it that displayed my straightness. Either “Straight but, not narrow” or simply “Ally” just making sure that people know I’m here but, I’m not queer. I changed the way I dressed. Once upon a time I couldn’t be caught dead in jeans, then all of a sudden they were all I wore. I switched from tshirts to sweaters and infinity scarves and got those knee high tall boots. A classic “Christian girl Autumn” look just missing the Christianity and the Pumpkin Spice Latte. I tried everything to not look like the tie dye tshirt and gym short wearing tomboy I grew up as. And once I found out Birkenstock’s were a lesbian thing I barely wore them. 

“It’d be ok if you were” became a joke between me and my cousin that allowed for many laughs about what I thought at the time was just a silly idiosyncrasy. But, two days after Deja Vu came out, in the middle of the night that idiosyncrasy turned into an obsession that fell into the OCD mind cycle. I texted my cousin a picture of a T-shirt I thought she’d like to see if she was awake. I couldn’t straight up just ask for what I needed I guess. As she would say later, I buried the lead. The shirt was of a white Ford bronco, my cousin and I had the discussion quite often if sales went up after OJ Simpson famously took the car on a high speed police chase. I then asked if it would be ok if I called her. She said yes. I started with “you know how we always joke about my mom saying ‘it’d be ok if you were’,” I took a breathe “well I think I am?” I burst out in nervous laughter and she couldn’t help but laugh too but, then she said some of the most supportive things a person could say. It was a special memory that I will forever cherish. We talked about my OCD thoughts that were spiraling around my head a light speed. One being that I’m making it up for attention or that if I come out as bisexual less men will be attracted to me and I really don’t have the dating pool to subtract that many people especially if I’m wrong and I’m straight. My cousin made the greatest point which was it the guy wasn’t interested in me after I come out as bi then I really don’t want him anyway. She’s so right. My OCD was spewing internalized homophobic thoughts about myself that are against all my core values, I just had to let those thoughts pass and focus on being myself. The phone call with my cousin is what I would say my first “coming out” experience was, I truly cannot thank her enough for not only making it positive but, being patient with me and my thoughts.  And of course to commemorate the occasion of me admitting I might be, we got the T-shirts.

It was a while until Olivia’s next single “Good 4 u” came out and in between the two songs release I began becoming more comfortable with these feelings I was having. I saw my tik tok crush get a girlfriend which hit me pretty hard. And I began discussing the possibility of me not being straight with some friends. Never confirming though only speculation and always saying “I still like the masculine energy though” like that made me less bisexual. Everyone was very supportive and understanding that this is a maybe and nothing is confirmed but, here’s what I’m feeling and I need to get it out. 

The week leading up to The “good 4 u” release was my first week of vacation from my job ever. I spent a lot of time by myself thinking about me and how I don’t need to know anything for certain because there’s no way to know anything for certain. I had to attempt to not focus on the internalized homophobia going on in my head. And the constant questioning my OCD was doing because it hates uncertainty.

I went to the Land with my Mom for a few days at the end of the week. It was much needed to have that time with her and to be at the Land a place I didn’t appreciate enough when I was younger but now, is one of the places I feel I can be most myself. My Sister and niece came down to visit and my mom and I were watching my niece while my sister was on a call when all of a sudden I got this urge to tell my mom. Out of the blue it felt right. 

So, while my niece was putting together her potato head, I looked at my mom and told her “I think I’m bisexual.” The response she gave was predictable but, still supportive and kind. I mean this is the same woman who scarred me by saying “it’d be ok if you were,” so her saying “I kinda had a feeling” is no shock. Mom we know you had a feeling you made it very obvious. I couldn’t help but chuckle. She handled it so well, gave me a hug. I’m very lucky because I know for others this doesn’t happen. Having a hippie mom does have perks. 

I drove home from the land feeling relieved. I think there was a tension between me and my mom that I didn’t even recognize. This drive home was the day after the release of “Good 4 U” and I blasted it the whole way home. That song is truly outstanding.

I was back to work days later and although I had almost confirmed it within myself it still felt like this secret I was fighting.

My mind was constantly invalidating itself. The thoughts in my head mostly saying again that it wasn’t really bi and that I was making it up for attention. It was non stop. An unsurprising part of this was my OCD’s component. Made me question me questioning my sexuality. And then I adjusted my mindset. I used the tools I was taught to let those thoughts come and go. What if it was fake, I’ll find out! What’s the harm? Letting those thoughts come and go. I don’t have to be set either way. I’m not sure still and that’s ok!

The album was released at midnight on May 21st. My coworker Cam and I bonded over our love for Olivia Rodrigo and decided we would try to listen to it while we were on night shift that night. But, unfortunately our shift got too hectic so we made plans to get DQ and listen to the album in the parking lot later that day.

I picked Cam up and we set off on our journey. After going through the very familiar drive thru we found a good parking spot and settled in. We would talk during the songs that had already come out and discuss our thoughts. I cried. I don’t know about Cam but she did make a joke that she did. We listened to it start to finish. And I don’t know what it was, going through each of the songs and thinking about how it related to this journey, the rush of emotions that the lyrics invoke, or the fact that the last song simply mentioned a gay girl and I was going on like 3 hours of sleep but, whatever it was in that moment I thought to myself…I’m bisexual…confirmed.

I dropped Cam off after our listening party of SOUR both vowing to probably listen to it 200 more times. After I drove away I took a deep breath. It felt as if I hadn’t done that in a long time.

After that night it really just turned into a positive thing. Telling people was scary but, freeing. Telling people at work on night shift (where secrets are told) felt at lot less consequential than telling my regular life friends. My coworkers shared the same sentiment about opening up there because your coworkers aren’t tied to your outside life. It felt like practice for telling the rest of my world. I was very lucky to receive such positive response, I’m privileged in that way and I know it. Coming out can be dangerous for some people. It’s something I’ll never take for granted. 

I haven’t told everyone yet and that’s okay. I don’t feel either way about it. At this point unless it’s pertinent to a conversation or provides context in some way I don’t feel it’s super necessary. But, it’s not because I’m ashamed or uncomfortable. I’ve downloaded the dreaded dating apps again and I feel like I’m the most serious I’ve ever been about dating. Maybe it’s because I’m being truer to myself. Or maybe girls are just less likely to send you a perverted message as soon as you match. Who knows.

So, yeah I’m bisexual it’s true. I’m excited to continue to learn about this part of me. I’ll never again be so naive as I was before thinking there was no new parts of myself to discover. I look forward to learning more. 

Now go stream SOUR by Olivia Rodrigo on Spotify.

Sincerely,

Your Strong Female Lead 

episode eighty-nine // seem

I have come way too far for people to continue to tell me how I feel. It’s disrespectful to me and all of the hard work that I have done over the years. All of the therapy, the tears, the medication. So much time spent trying to fit into a world not built for people with mental illness. So much time spent trying to say the right thing to a friend or coworker. With all of the work I have put in to make myself tolerable to the outside world (and sometimes seemingly still failing) it makes me livid for anyone to try to explain to me about me (unless it’s my therapist)

This is all based around something that happened at work. I had an off day and wasn’t myself. I’ve been under so much pressure lately from all angles and have tried my best to leave it at the door when I come to work because it is not tolerated to have a bad day. But, it seems I have not been successful in hiding my emotions. My coworker said to me that “It seems you’re stressed out all the time,” and that “I get in my own way.” These are both generally reasonable statements with my life at the current moment and my diagnosis of OCD but, it’s what she said next that hurt more. She said it seems that my specialty of Heme/Onc stresses me out. I may be reading into this but, it almost felt as if she was implying that this job wasn’t for me.

There is nothing more hurtful after the gaslighting I experienced during my orientation than for someone to sit down next to me after all of the hard work I’d put in and tell me that maybe I can’t cut it. With no evidence except the classic “you seem stressed out.” 

Very important word in there is “seem” you don’t know I’m stressed out and even if you did you don’t know what about unless you ask. But, this was no question/answer. She was telling me and I was to accept. 

I didn’t though. I explained that to be honest I prefer Heme/Onc patients to other general care kids. It’s where my passions and interests are. I asked for explanations and was given situations from that day (which I admit was an off day but, no one was hurt or injured or anything even close) and when I asked for other than just today she backed down and said that we can just call today a one off. 

She was making a judgement about my ability to do a job I happen to really like based on 8 hours of work.

I don’t blame my coworker she backed down when I explained myself and I just hope that I got across to her how much I do love this job and how hard I’ve been working. But, even if I did get it across to her…would it matter? Because it seems that they would make their own explanations for me anyway.

What I have learned from this incident is that work is still not safe for me. I can’t just be myself yet. My guard must remain up. I thought with the preceptor that made my life a living hell gone it would be better but, it seems that I still have to prove myself in the most minimal way. After almost a year and a half I still have to prove that I deserved the job in the first place, that I can hack it. 

I will not grovel at any feet. I will not act as if I haven’t earned my role as a member of the team but, I will be humble because I know I have a lot to learn. I am not immune to mistakes.

Most importantly though: I will not let anyone explain how I’m feeling to me. That’s where I draw the line.

Sincerely,

Your Strong Female Lead 

episode eighty-eight // another year, another tear

24, one more trip around the sun. One more birthday anxiously anticipated and not in the way I did as a kid. I used to be so excited to celebrate my birthday, be the center of attention, get presents etc. and then every year I would feel the let down of the day. Never let down because of the people or the gifts or the cake, just an emotional drop off. Over the years I have tried to approach my birthday differently. I’ve tried to make a huge deal of it and throw big parties, I’ve tried ignoring it but never enough where I took it off Facebook (I’m self centered I guess), this year I tried to just let it happen. But, still the same result. This heavy emotional burden that seems to get heavier every year. It’s hard to grasp why. I used to think I was disappointed by the reaction to my birthday but, I’ve grown out of that thinking and this year had the same result. I can hypothesize that it could be about getting the attention I’ve always longed for them realizing that I don’t like the attention anyway making me unfulfilled by the thing I’ve been chasing. I need to do more investigation I guess because I don’t think that hits the mark either.

The reasoning doesn’t matter right now, because when my parents sang me happy birthday tears welled up in my eyes, and when I blew out the candles, I can’t remember what I wished for. And I lay here on my couch crying to myself wishing so badly that I could just enjoy life like any other person. But, instead no matter what I’m crying on my birthday. I developed some amazing friendships in my 23rd year. Ones that I hope continue on past that. Not only that but I strengthened my forever friendships. They celebrate me and who I am. They celebrated my birthday with cookie cake, funny photoshopped pictures, thoughtful gifts, and musicals. They love me and I love them and my emotions as I sit here tonight are not due to them or their efforts by any means. I cherish all of it more than they will ever know. The tears streaming down my face are reminders that there’s still something to work on with my mental health. I will need to uncover this like I have so many things. 

Along with my birthday being a trigger, I explained to my friend Olive that I feel like I’ve been living in a pressure cooker. From all directions the walls are closing in, and I am trying my hardest to find space to breathe. I have been successful in not being crushed just yet which I feel like could not be said if past versions of me were but under these conditions. I’m surviving.

I never thought I’d live past 18. Once I did I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was lost and had no idea who I was, I didn’t need to because I wasn’t going to see past 18. I could keep up the mask until then. But, after 18 when things didn’t end I was too tired to do the dance. I broke. 

At 24, I still need super glue in some spots, I’m missing some pieces that are now filled by better ones, I’m trying my best. 

I’m unsure if I’ll ever not cry on my birthday, this might just be part of coping for me with whatever the underlying stress of this day is. I’ve come a long way and I plan to keep growing. I appreciate the celebration I do. But, I guess it’s my birthday and I can cry if I want to.

Sincerely,

Your Strong Female Lead 

episode eighty-seven // more milligrams

I’ve been on psychiatric medication since I was 11 years old. The early years I was getting medication from my Pediatrician but, as my condition became more complicated I was referred to get a psychiatrist. Most of the time since switching from my pediatrician was with the same psychiatrist. This is the psychiatrist I parted ways with earlier this year. During my initial conversation with my new psychiatrist in April he asked that I get a list of psychiatric medications I’ve taken, which in the world where I can look back at information from when I was born seems like it could be easy. But, Instead I just spent 30 minutes on the phone with a woman from my insurance company as she read me the medications I’ve taken since 2018. Only 3 years of data. Walgreens my current pharmacy could only go back to 2020. My pharmacy from when I lived with my parents only had info saved from after I had stopped getting prescriptions from there. I didn’t even bother to pick up the print out. But, you would think at least my psychiatrist of over 8 years would be able to send the prescription data or any of my chart over to my new psychiatrist but, no. I’ve emailed every month and when I do get an answer it’s either she’s conveniently on vacation or she’s working on it. My demands have gotten greater I’m now asking for all of my chart to be sent. I don’t care if it’s petty, this is ridiculous. How was I to know starting at 11 years old I needed to document every med change, of which there were numerous, instead of the medical system that can tell me what percentile of height I was in when I was age 7. The system failed me in this sense. The frustration is creating this tension in my body I can feel, but as I draw my attention to my body I feel something else. An ache in my heart. As the wonderful woman from my insurance company sat with me and listed the medications month by month since June of 2018 she told a story of a girl struggling with a mental illness that almost ate her alive and is always on the horizon. It shows the start of a new medication, the hope that it will help, titrating the dose up and up to see if we can get a therapeutic response. And it also shows the failures of the medication, the disappointment and loss of hope, titrating the dose down to prevent withdrawals. It shows a girl believing everything her psychiatrist says, trying everything she could even when it’s scary, even when the side effects could be worse than the benefit. I always tried because then at least your doing something to try to get out of the darkness. 

Listening to list brought back all of the memories from those times. All of which were low points that’s why we were making a medication change that would require insurance approval. Trial and error. That’s all psychopharmacology is at this point. Or at least that’s how it seemed to me. 

I wish I could say I’m now on a regimen that works but, we may not be there yet. More titration up may be required with the antidepressant I’m currently on. The answer always feels like more Milligrams. Just try this for another 4 weeks. Watch out for serotonin syndrome. I feel so alone. 

I feel stupid for not keeping better track and not remembering the names of the things I put in my body. It could give so much insight in to where to go from here. 

I feel let down by my former psychiatrist and the pharmacies and the insurance company. I guess I can’t blame the company’s too much because I understand it costs money to store data but, you would thing my former psychiatrist would be able to keep track of the scripts she’s written.

I’m angry, but the anger is here only to mask the hurt. Masks the retraumatization of running through the timeline of the hardest parts of my last 3 years. I can feel the anguish that I felt then, the hopelessness. It’s hard to see out of the darkness sometimes, I guess you just have to believe someday there will be light. The sun will rise.

To the woman from my insurance agency who patiently read through the medications with me over the phone for 30 minutes you were so so helpful. Your kind voice made the story you were telling less sharp.

I’m very lucky to have insurance and I’m lucky I have access to psychiatric medications. I know that’s not the reality for so many so, I just want to identify that and recognize that. It’s not something I take lightly.

I will continue to fight away that feeling of hopelessness I get every morning when I take my medications. We will find the right cocktail. 

Sincerely,

Your Strong Female Lead 

episode eighty-six // laverne

“The end of an era”

“I didn’t even know what color your car really was!”

“How did you do it?”

These are all things people messaged me after seeing that my car had been stripped of all 300+ bumper stickers.

Along with all of the other messages of “why?!?” And the just general sad face emojis. 

But, after 6 years Laverne (my car) has taken a turn for the worse. For the past 3 years my air conditioning has gone out every summer and then I bring it in and they find 10 other far more expensive problems that would keep her off the road without fixing. So, when I felt the hot air on my hand when I cranked the A/C I knew it was time.

I always wanted to cover a car in stickers I thought it was so cool and really made a statement.

It really has been a part of my identity. So, as my friends helped me steam and then violently scrape each sticker into pieces on the ground I couldn’t help but feel sad. Further saddened by my dads excitement because of the resale value going drastically up not taking into account what this means for me. Sad because I don’t know who the fuck I am without that fucking car. 

It’s true. At 23 almost 24 years old I’m having an identity crisis. It may be because I’m depressed and we have been a pandemic for over a year now. It could be because using my job as my identity would mean that my identity has me burnt out so intensely that I cry driving to and from work because I’m so exhausted. It could be because I haven’t sang in years except in my car or in the shower because the nodes/surgery to remove them has done damage to my vocal cords and they don’t sound the same. Or because the election is over, trump is gone and I know that the fight isn’t over but, I’m burnt out from that too. My favorite podcast has episodes in their stream I haven’t listened to. I’m not caught up on my favorite shows. I’m too depressed to get out of bed most of the time. Depression cannot be my identity but, it’s the most persistent thing in my life right now. 

I’m sure every person in their early 20s feels this way at some point. Growing and changing is the pivotal part of this time period in a young persons life. But, with all of the questioning I’ve done in my life there haven’t been many questions of who I am, not this severe anyway. Or maybe I’m just realizing that I’ve been hiding behind a car with stickers instead of finding myself. Don’t know which is scarier. 

The identity piece aside, this car has been through so much with me. Sheltering me when no one else could. I’ve had so many important phone calls from that car sitting in the stained gray fabric seats. Times of heartbreak and times of joy. Singing with the windows down, crying with the windows up and the seat back so no one could see me. Felt safe in my little Subaru. I’ll miss it undoubtedly and the idea of getting a new car is so stressful and exhausting although it should be exciting. 

My mom and I drove around the car lots near our house and nothing seemed to catch my eye really, I’m not sure what I was looking for. What I know now and what I didn’t know when looking for my first car, is that the car will do so much more than just bring me to and from work. It’ll be my place of respite some days, a place I can blare the music to drown out my own thoughts or at least attempt to. And that’s what makes a Subaru- nah I’m kidding. 

So, here’s to Laverne. My lovely little compact SUV that has kept me safe physically and emotionally. The car that had strangers leaving kind notes on my windshield and thumbs up from passerby’s. Insane amounts of love for this vehicle. Hope your next owner treats you well. 

Sincerely,

Your Strong Female Lead 

episode eighty-five // it was a thursday I think

7 years. I cannot handle these emotions. I woke up crying. I just wish my friend could know me now. I’m such a better person now, a lot because of her. I also learned a lot from the loss. It’s so unfair the way the world is. I wish truly it was me instead of her. I know she would have been there for my family that’s why every time I can be I’m there for hers. No person deserves to have a brain tumor. No family deserves to lose their teenage daughter to a damn brain tumor. Cancer has no boundaries. I learned that early in life and now I see it everyday in my job. 

7 years ago today in the evening time I got the worst call of my life telling me my friend had passed away. I remember where I was exactly in my house. I remember the feeling. I also remember that when I woke up that morning I had no idea it would be the worst day of my life. I had no idea what was coming. My mom remembers the sound I made she says. It was a Thursday I think. 

Now every year on this day I wake up in shambles. I don’t think it’s gotten easier. Sometimes I’m angry, sometimes I just simply can’t get out of bed, sometimes I just cry all day, sometimes it’s all three. 

I took my job knowing it could trigger my trauma. I’ve found some healing in helping kids with cancer like she had. Finally I can do something to help. But, I’m still so helpless against this disease. Becoming a nurse didn’t fix that. There’s some comfort in that too. It’s not like knowing what I know now I could have saved her. At least that isn’t eating at me anymore. 

I wish she was here. There’s not much more to say. I wish everyone could have known her. I strive to be more like her everyday.

Sincerely,

Your Strong Female Lead 

episode eighty-four // teeth clenched

TW: Self-harm, Suicidal Ideation

I have this jaw pain from clenching my teeth. I do it constantly. When I’m sleeping, when I’m trying to not cry, when I smile, when I do actually cry, when I’m scrolling through Instagram, when I’m texting a friend. Teeth clenched so hard it causes headaches. Trying to keep it all in and all together. No letting go. Just keep it together one more day. But, until when?

I started seeing a new psychiatrist last week. It was time. He started asking me about my history, basically “what’s your deal?” But, in a way more eloquent way. He ended up giving me the depression screening to see where I was at...I scored very high. I hadn’t realized how bad it had been. How little motivation I had to do much of anything. The intrusive self harm thoughts had become more active more recently. But, it felt like the heat had just been being turned up little by little I couldn’t feel the difference, my jaw clenched harder and harder. Until here we are in a depressive episode that makes me feel so trapped again, burning inside out. I’m at the mercy of my mind. After I got the high score on the depression screening it made me more aware of my thoughts. It gets dark. It feels unmanageable. I’m having trouble sleeping, the thoughts are aggressive and violent. I want to talk to someone and yet I say nothing at all. I don’t see a future, it’s cloudy again. 

And people have been noticing. At work “you’re not your chipper self” or “do you need a hug?” are just a few of the things coworkers have said to me that’s notified my brain that I need to do a better job at hiding my emotions. I can’t be seen as emotional, I’ll lose this job for sure. So, I clench my teeth.

The new psychiatrist is suggesting an antidepressant change. I would normally be against this as it has been widely known that I believed my Pristiq is a tried and true and the only thing that works. But again after reaching top of the leader board with my depression screening score, maybe it’s not working as well as I thought. It’s scary and heartbreaking. However the day to day I’m currently living is not sustainable. I’m pushing away friends and family, I can’t trust anyone, all the progress I’ve made feels undone. Coming out of quarantine seems scarier than staying in. Every social interaction feels like so much work. I feel stuck...teeth clenched.

I’m still here though. Sometimes I don’t want to be but, I’m fighting so hard for a future I can’t see. It’s foggy and scary. I don’t know who will be standing next to me, who will have left me behind, or who I will have grown out of. I can’t control any of that. 

All I can control is this reminder: relax your jaw, take a deep breath.

Sincerely,

Your Strong Female Lead

episode eighty-three // re-enfranchised grief

As nurses, we sign up for the pain that comes with new diagnosis, worsening prognosis, and ultimately passing away. But, just because we signed up for it doesn’t make us immune to the emotion. We feel every second, absorb it. Never does it become easier, just more familiar. Giving yourself the permission to feel and talk out those feelings is the only way you can truly have a long career in nursing without burnout in my opinion. 

Nurses often experience “Disenfranchised grief” which is simply defined on Wikipedia as “grief that is not acknowledged by society.” When a patient passes we are not often given the same opportunities for closure, the same support, or the validation that is needed to get through that trauma. Because yes we signed up for it. We signed up to treat these people like our family. To try to make them well, to make them comfortable. We signed up for the pain that sometimes comes at the end of the journey but, it’s because we recognize the importance of every moment in between. Whether you take care of a patient for one shift or fifty, losing them is difficult. Validating that reality will help keep nurses in the field and is good for their mental health. Telling them what they did mattered and they did a hell of a good job. Which on my unit is often the case. 

We just lost a long term patient who truly was one of the most incredible people I have ever met. This patient and his family have been living on the unit for half of my nursing career. And we had to say goodbye. The unit rallied around this family in an incredible way and it truly united us. It feels as if we lost a family member ourselves. There were tears, and they were welcomed as long as it didn’t effect your work. Leadership converted one of our closets into a “therapeutic space” which of course we just referred to as the “cry room,” with a rocking chair, great smelling lotion, a rug that my coworker said looked like a flattened sombrero, and a fake fern. It was very nice and I feel it was a great intervention to try to “re-enfranchise” our grief. 

We reminisced about the great memories we had made. Texts were sent making sure everyone was hanging in there. The grieving has only just started but, it started in a healthy way in my opinion. 

I could invalidate myself and say that I signed up for this, so I need to suck it up. But, at the end of the day when I tell people what I do for my profession I often get “I don’t know how you do it” or “that’s so hard” so, there’s a reason why others don’t become a part of this. It’s hard but, the reason why it’s so hard is because our jobs are to make memories in the moments in between. In between the medications, the chemo, and the procedures we love them through it all. That’s why it hurts because nurses are humans, we love these patients and their families and getting the opportunity to know and grow with them makes the pain that much harder but, also “worth it” in a sense. I wouldn’t trade my time with this kid and his family for the world and I don’t know any of my coworkers that would.

We lost a friend. So, I will grieve. I’ll cry and call my coworkers and eat fast food. I’ll write as I’m doing now. I’ll try to begin the healing. Because unfortunately there will be another new diagnosis walking through that door and I need to be ready to make every moment matter, help them fight there disease and hopefully beat it. I need to be ready for that because that’s what I signed up for. I signed up to fight for these children and that’s what I’m going to do.

I’ll end with a quote from Winnie the Pooh:

“How Lucky I Am To Have Something That Makes Saying Goodbye So Hard”

Sincerely,

Your Strong Female Lead

episode eighty-two // a generous anecdote

I’ve been a nurse on my unit for almost a year now. I still struggle with my identity as a nurse daily. Imposter syndrome is a familiar fact of life when I’m at work. I struggle taking any compliment on my work and call myself dumb at least once a shift. 

Without getting into too much detail. Let’s just say I had this hypothetical patient who needed to be moved up to ICU and while they were there I visited them. This was a long term patient of our unit and we had permission to visit. This patient’s ICU nurse was someone I had gone to high school with. I really look up to her she’s a phenomenal nurse and human being. The details of my interaction with patient and family are personal and are ultimately not related to my overall point. 

The patient ended up progressing to floor status and coming back to my unit 2 days later. Their nurse from the ICU that I knew came and visited them on our floor. When we saw each other on the unit we exchanged greetings and I updated her on what I knew of our mutual patients status. She then said something to me that I hope I never forget.

She said, “they [patient and family] adore you by the way,” it caught me off guard and I don’t know if she could deduced this from under my face mask but, she continued. “They talked about how they have watched you grow and we had like a 15 minute conversation about it.” I could never explain to this nurse how much what she had just said meant to me. 

Even my Imposter syndrome was stumped. She had no reason to lie, nothing to gain by saying this. The words she used could not be misconstrued or twisted to hurt me. They were genuine and for once my identity as a nurse felt as if it had a leg to stand on. 

Her authenticity is a big part of what this episode is about. And that she told me this without knowing the facts that make it more powerful.

She didn’t know that about a month and a half ago I was having anxiety about taking care of this patient, because I wasn’t one of the long time nurses that had been there I felt I was taking a place that belonged to someone else. 

She didn’t know that when I went to visit them in the ICU that day I had the same feeling, and I fought through telling myself that I’m sure it would probably be good if anyone went to show a friendly face from my unit. 

She had no idea that when she left the room when I was at the ICU I praised her to the patients parents and said I looked up to her a lot and that they were in great hands.

She had no idea that at every turn, I had delegitimized my part in this story, and with her words she wrote me back into the narrative. 

There is no “thank you” that could sum that all up. There’s no way she would have known any of that. But, she said it anyway. 

I think a lot about people’s intentions, the reason is because I focus a lot on my own. I’m sure I’ve spoke about this before, my obsession with knowing why I do something or feel something. The nurse that said this to me had nothing to gain by saying it, her intentions were purely to make me feel good.

I was going to continue on in this post and talk about grief in nursing and nursing culture but, I feel that it takes away from the importance of that little anecdote. Taking the time to look around and recognize someone else for the work they are doing can be such a small act that can make huge waves in that persons life. That ICU nurse made me feel like I mattered to a patient and family I really care about. That means so much and all it took was a few simple words. That’s what the focus should be on. To that wonderful nurse, I know you will never read this but, thank you from the bottom of my heart. And to the people reading this, it doesn’t have to be some extravagant thing, but remind someone they matter it could mean the world.

Sincerely,

Your Strong Female Lead

episode eighty-one // a metaphorical page turn

I have been struggling to write something/anything for this blog. I’ve started many different posts but, they remain unfinished in my notes app. Could be the thing I was writing about became obsolete or maybe I just became exhausted by the emotions I was trying to convey. Most likely a bit of both. Throughout this year I have seen self-growth in the way I’ve been able to work through things in my life. The amount of times I sit perseverating on something has decreased and I am able to work through some emotions way better than I have in the past. So, the lack of perseveration may be directly related to the lack of content. But, in addition, the exhaustion I feel is a new level. Sometimes I just tuck things away because I don’t want to deal with them. That’s somewhat new for me. Ignoring things gets me into messes that usually I don’t see until they are too big to clean up. But, I continue to do it. 

I framed last post as a season finale making whatever I post next the beginning of season two. Thats also been a lot of pressure every time I sit down to write. What will season two mean for me? Maybe I just don’t want to believe that any of the shit that happened in the past 12 months actually happened and it’s to hard and too sad to be season two because season two was supposed to go way different. 

But, the truth is that season two started months ago and things are not going to magically change and be better just because I created a symbolic page turn. 

And with my mental illness on the cusp of becoming an acute problem again I’ve decided to come back to the only way I can feel heard...writing on a blog that my friends and family have access to but I’ll never know if they actually read it because they are most likely too uncomfortable to talk to me about what I’ve written about.

How cute and quirky. 

I started my first job as a nurse in the beginning of the pandemic. I often tell the story of how I was literally sitting in new employee orientation when I started getting text messages from about how everything was shutting down. Everyone was on edge. I had a horrible orientation experience. My honesty about my mental health and my insecurities were used against me. I became very comfortable with the idea that I was a bumbling incompetent idiot that was going to get fired any moment thanks to some people I worked with who fueled my imposter syndrome. But, don’t worry. I worked hard and stayed under the radar as much as I could and soon their focus went to someone else. Those thoughts about myself still linger though and it really shows what can happen when nurses try to eat their young. It just didn’t have to go that way and I know that I will not continue the chain of people that were trained like that. There’s a confidence and resilience that comes in wanting to do better for others than other did for you. That’s where I’m at these days. Kill em with kindness type beat.

As everyone knows COVID cases are rising again. And with our pediatric census dropping around the holidays, myself and my coworker were sent to work on a COVID critical care unit in an assistive roll on Christmas Eve. I was scared but it was something I wanted to do. I know what it’s like when your understaffed and drowning and if I can help any nurse feel less of that I want to do it. The unit I floated to was a great group of nurses and honestly they are the reason why I volunteered to come a second day. I was able to feel helpful and not feel in the way which was a fear of mine. I asked questions and learned a lot which obviously wasn’t the ultimate goal of floating but a great bonus. I picked up an extra shift on that unit this week to continue to help out. But, I will say I don’t know how those nurses do it everyday. Physically I feel like I was hit by a freight train, emotionally seeing all the people dying from a disease that’s spread was preventable is devastating. Those nurses inspire me.

 I had a lot of weird happenstances occur when I was on the COVID floor. Only one I can really talk about though but it is the most bizarre.

I had this moment I was in a patients room FaceTiming her family and I looked at her fitted sheet and there was a piece of fabric tape with “Hannah” written on it in kids block lettering. It must have gone through the wash from one of our pediatrics floors. If you’ve been reading the blog you know about my friend “H” who passed away when we were in our teen years. She has been a huge part of me getting through this year also. So, seeing that...I’m not always a spiritual person but it felt like a comforting message from a friend. 

I work in pediatric hematology and oncology. I don’t know if I’ve said that before in the blog but, whatever that’s what I do. Caring for kids with cancer does help soothe some of my still open wounds from losing “H” while opening new ones that are unfortunately part of the job. I really love what I do and I have found people that get it and truly are phenomenal additions to my life. They helped me see through the haze of negativity during orientation and kept me a float through the storm. I was worn and weathered after that but they’ve polished me up and pushed me to keep reaching my potential. I’m so lucky to have found that. 

Truly the luckiest I’ve felt though is having watched my niece grow up over this past year. Family dynamics are difficult especially during times of intense stress. But, some how that sweet girl has kept our heads above water. Though sometimes because of my job it wasn’t safe to see my family. I was lucky enough that my sister would FaceTime me and just show her playing. Her excitement when she would see my face on the screen fueled me through this year no doubt. 

And this year has brought me a nephew. One I don’t anticipate being able to meet for awhile but hopefully soon. We’ve been acquainted by FaceTime and he’s truly beautiful. A new character to this season and one I’m absolutely obsessed with.

I truly believe that this new identity of Aunt has helped sculpt your strong female lead. I think it’s made me soft. I will drop anything to watch my niece play with blocks over FaceTime. Literally anything. My family has been through a difficult time this year. We came together though even if it was messy at times. I am very proud of that. 

I don’t want you to worry, Season two was still full of some of your favorite characters from season one. The pandemic left Cap homebound and starting his masters online. It’s been nice for him to be here. When the COVID numbers in our city cooled down myself Cap and Ryan had movie nights at my place and watched election results and debates. Since numbers have spiked I haven’t seen them but, we have been playing some late night games of Among Us with some of our other fan favorites.

 Courtney and I drifted a bit right after starting our jobs but over the past month or so our long phone calls have come back in to the mix. 

My high school friends also all still stay in contact. All working their asses off trying to navigate our early twenties in quarantine. 

Another relationship that’s been helping me a ton is one with my cousin we can call her Kim. She’s one year older than me and lives on the opposite coast so the 3 hour time difference has been super helpful when I’m freaking out and no one is awake because she usually is. We know all the drama from each others work lives it’s been a lot of great laughs too. 

I guess one of my bigger updates is that I left group...I’m shocked too. After we moved to zoom it was becoming harder and harder to feel dedicated to the group. No one else would talk so I would end up just filling the space because I might as well just talk about myself if no one has anything to say. So, I left. It was emotional but, necessary and I don’t regret it. I’ve been able to gain another post group friend which is always nice. I mean my group mates know more about me then some of my closest friends. 

I was worried about rambling when writing this and reading it back that’s exactly what it is. I’m ok with that though because we have a whole season to dive deeper and do some flashbacks when needed. As we roll into 2021 I make no promises that things will magically change because that’s not how life works. Things don’t miraculously get better when you buy a new calendar.

Here goes nothing though. Season two.

Sincerely,

Your Strong Female Lead

episode eighty // season one finale

CONTENT WARNING: the following post contains content about suicide and self-harm. It may not be suitable for someone struggling with this topic. Reader discretion is advised.

You are never alone don’t forget that. There are resources:

The NAMI HelpLine: 800-950-6264

National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-8255

Crisis Text Line: can be reached by texting HOME to 741-741

I’ve been in the pressure cooker that is the road to becoming a nurse for so long now it’s hard to imagine a life where I don’t have to worry when my next exam is or if I can afford to relax. But, now all of that is over. 

I’m officially graduated and officially a Registered Nurse. Holy shit. That’s insane. 

When I started on this road of nursing I was so wide eyed and naive to the work that it would really take and the work I would need to do on myself. If you know me or have read this blog you most likely know that I started at a different college than the one I graduated from. I lasted a week. My mental illness was exacerbated by the huge life change. My thoughts were racing. I thought there was only one way out and that was to end my life. But, obviously I didn’t take that route. I went home to my parents who were not happy with me. They didn’t quite understand and thought I just wasn’t trying hard enough. I barely left my room that first week home. Instead I laid in bed either crying or binge watching David Dobriks vlogs. My dad would barely speak to me.

I didn’t give up though. I got help and started enrolling in classes at the local community college that ended up being the place that changed me the most. The stigma around community college at the suburban high school I went to made it difficult to confess where I was attending at first. Now I am elated to say that I’m Alumni and am proud of where I came from. 

Every semester I either gained a part of myself back or discovered a new one with the help of my wonderful therapist. I would have panic attacks quite frequently every semester especially at the beginning where the fear of the unknown would basically eat me alive. For the last two semesters of nursing school I am happy to say that I was able to manage my beginning of the year anxiety that caused me to miss countless first days of school. It got better even when I thought it never could. 

I made friends and I lost friends. I lost myself and then realized I wasn’t that person anyway and basically started from scratch. I learned from everyone I came into contact with. I created relationships with people that I will cherish for the rest of my life. Unique people, from so many different backgrounds than me that have opened my eyes to different worlds. Made me appreciate what I have and realize that none of the extra shit matters anyway if you don’t have love behind it.

I fought some of my darkest demons too. I came close to ending my life again. I battled with self-harm. I cried...a lot. I was irrationally terrified...a lot. I had to trust others more than I thought was healthy (I was wrong). I cut people out of my life and learned the importance of boundaries. I love a good boundary. 

I studied a lot throughout nursing school and worked really fucking hard. Ended up quitting my job at one point and dedicated myself to school. I ended up in the nurses honors society (only 11/56 students got it...I’m so humble). I basically lived on campus studying. I also won an award for psych mental health nursing...how ironic seeming as that’s the semester that I struggled with the most. 

The job search was disheartening but ended happily. I will be a Pediatric Oncology and Hematology Nurse. A dream that I always had but was constantly afraid to follow in fear of being triggered of memories from my past. But, now with a healthier understanding of my grief, I’m prepared to use my experience to help my patients and their families. I believe it helped me get hired along with my dazzling personality lol.

And then the NCLEX which is the nursing board exam. Basically designed to make you think you failed. I studied for weeks. Endless hours in the library. I’m so proud of myself for that. I worked hard and it paid off. I’m a nurse...for real. 

I’m ready to start this new chapter. It honestly feels like “season 2” of my story. I mean probably more like 4 or 5 considering how quick we age during childhood and adolescence but for simplicity sake: Season 2. So this is like the season 1 finale I guess. 

I have grown up so much since I started this website. When I called it the “girl with the green glasses” even though I wear my contacts every day. All I’ve ever wanted (and still want) is to feel heard. The creation of this blog helped me shout into a void. Then I slowly opened it up to more of my loved ones giving them an inside look into the thoughts that are often to uncomfortable to be discussed in regular conversation. And then it backfired. I hurt people. Not because of the things I wrote (which are hard to read at times I admit) but, because I wasn’t saying these things to them, it was unspoken and awkward. I drew back. I deleted the Instagram and made it less accessible. It saved me a lot of stress. I never wanted this to blog to seem like a long ass subtweet. My goal was to be proactive not passive-aggressive. But, it got lost in translation and instead of dwelling on it I apologized and moved on. I grew from every mis-step. I learned.

So, what’s next? Well I don’t start work for another month and a half. I’m planning some trips and working on binging the last three seasons of homeland before the new one comes out. Tough road ahead, I know. I also really want to learn that cool loopy hand lettering and have been working on it actually. I also just want to sleep in, relax and hang with my cat. Still can’t believe I have a fucking cat. 

My life is about to change majorly. I’m terrified for adulthood: Bills, taxes, insurance, etc. My stomach drops just thinking about it. But, I’m ready to learn and am prepared to accept defeat a few times and remember I can’t be an expert at something I’ve never been taught. I’m ready to start asking for help and being SUPER specific as to not lose the goal of what I need and limit the guess work that can cause so much anxiety. Again, boundaries!

What a long strange trip it’s been...and it will continue. 

Cheers to a wonderful season of laughs, f-bombs, and panic attacks. Season two is about to go OFF. Hope you’re ready...hope I’m ready.

Sincerely,

Your Strong Female Lead RN

episode seventy- nine // you can see me

You haven’t lived until you’ve cried off two layers of olive green face paint. Did I paint a good picture for you? And oddly enough this is an episode about success.

If you’ve read this blog carefully you may have concluded that I struggle with friendships but, I have a lot of them. It’s a very very confusing paradox that has loomed over my life for over a decade. The basic version of it is: I make friends and I make a lot of them then I become completely crippled with anxiety that I will lose each and every one of them. I become even more anxious that I will lose them to other people or that my position in a group will become obsolete with these new found people. I know what you may be thinking “Oh, she’s just jealous!” And as someone that is obsessed with determining my subconscious intentions I have thought the same thing. But, after investigating for the better part of 4 years with my psychologist, I have realized that I know jealousy and I am not afraid or disgusted by it. Jealousy is normal and I cannot hold this opinion while also feeling this genuine fear that I get from my OCD telling me I’m going to be erased.

After talking to my friends about this and realizing that some of them don’t get it (or do and don’t care idk) I came to the conclusion that I am the only one who can help me out of this. I have been faced with the fact that people may not change their actions and you run that risk when addressing a problem but, you CAN try to rewire years of feeling invisible and all that does to your self-esteem right? It’s much harder but, yes.

At first, I just avoided this trigger. I limited my exposure to group social situations, I strengthen my individual relationships, and I was honest with my “team captains” (as I think of my closest friends) about what was going on in my brain. This went well for a while but, you can’t segment your life like this without eventually feeling lonely and disengaged from the people you are trying so hard not to lose. So, I faced my fear.

Tonight we all went to a lacrosse game as a group. Everyone. In one room. The lead up was terrifying but, even worse was the thought of the post game outing that I would inevitably not be able to attend. This could be my Achilles heel. 

It would literally be the perfect storm of people. All of whom I either have anxiety around or am terrified of losing. It wouldn’t be there fault if I become invisible but, I wouldn’t necessarily blame them if they did. Without me there to watch everything that went down how would I know that they weren’t lying to me? How would I know if they all hit it off? How will I know if I become obsolete? I can’t be blindsided by this!

An aside:

The fear that even typing this is creating makes me feel as if I could pass out and I’m not exaggerating. 

This fear is running from a bear fear, being pushed off a building fear, drowning in the canal fear. I feel my blood pressure dropping as my heart rate rises. My body feels like it’s in shock.

I must be there to monitor and make sure that everything’s ok right? Even though I hate bars and will just overthink every fucking gesture. Even though I can’t talk or hear in bars because they are too loud. Even though it’s bad for me to drink because it can truly fuck me up the day after.

But, I’m not there. I’m at home tears streaming down my cheeks past a smile on my face? Confusing I know. But, I’m here after having a great time. I didn’t give in. I didn’t let one comment throw me off. I trusted my friend. I relied on my team captains and called one of them for support. 

A year ago I would have been hospitalized from this tonight. And who knows I mean the aftershocks of hearing stories of all the events that are going to happen tonight and the inside jokes that I won’t understand could still send me spiraling. But tonight, even though I’m fucking terrified and my body is lowkey demonstrating symptoms of shock...I win.

You can’t beat mental illness in one night with one action or even a billion actions. It’ll always be there. And some people won’t understand it, or it’ll take them time but, when they do you will feel seen and heard. And if you are as lucky as I am to have a friend observe and recognize how hard you work “every second of every day” you will remember that it may be all in your head but, that doesn’t mean it’s not real. And your not “broken” or “bad” you are just you and you struggle with OCD the same way people struggle with asthma or diabetes. 

So, tonight I take an Ativan, because again I feel like a bear is chasing me off a cliff into the ocean, and I’ll snuggle my cat (because I’m that person now) and I’ll go to sleep and I’ll probably wake up tomorrow anxious and sad but, I’ll remember my win today. I’m still here and you all can see me. That’s big.

Sincerely,

Your Strong Female Lead 

episode seventy-eight // rolling stone

You can’t always get what you want. Mr. Jagger said it best. 

This job hunt process has been pretty grueling. Those around me had things locked in before the semester even started and I’m now fighting the thoughts in my brain about being behind on a daily basis. It fascinates me that all I want is to be done with school and yet, thinking about my life after school sends me into a spiral. I know this is a very common soon to be college graduate thing so, in a weird way it’s refreshing to be normal even in such a shitty way.

I’m a good person but, I am not special. There aren’t going to be these golden doors that open and give me everything I want. I have lived a very privileged life considering and am very lucky for it. I remind myself of this with every job I apply for. I keep my expectations low in order to lessen the disappointment. But, this past week or so I let that get away from me. I let the hope and excitement of a potential job opportunity get away from me and now I’m here in a pool of anxiety as a friend of mine accepts the job.

I am honestly happy for him but, jealousy is a natural feeling and I’m having it. I’m admitting it!! We need to normalize jealousy! It’s ok!!! 

Without jealousy no one would have any drive to be better. When handle healthily it is just a natural part of human experience. Doesn’t make it any easier though. 

What sucks is that it makes me question myself. I have a shadow at the same floor next week and I’m wondering if they are just gonna cancel it or what? Are there two spots? What’s the deal? I guess I won’t know until then but, the uncertainty isn’t eating me up like it usually does. I’m just sad.

I’m not sad because of the position necessarily because I know that this was a long shot from the beginning. I mean if I had a dime for each time I had been told “you don’t start at your dream job,” I legit wouldn’t need a job at all. No, it’s not this position necessarily but that I’m actually scared I can’t do it. That I don’t deserve a job where I want. That I’m not good enough or strong enough. I put a lot of pressure on a job position I might not even like. A position I haven’t even shadowed for yet.

It’s like I’ve learned nothing! 

I recognize this now. I need to to remember there will not be a solution to these thoughts. Even if I had gotten the job, I would feel better for maybe a week and then be desperately terrified of letting them down.

It’s like with my cat I have this constant fear I accidentally let him out. Although, it’s impossible for him to sneak out without being seen it’s something that gives me so much anxiety! So I thought about getting a tracking device to put on his collar so I know he’s home. But, I’ve realized that even if I saw that he was home with the tracking device I would just convince myself he slipped his collar off and is just free roaming. 

OCD finds a way to thwart whatever preventative measures you present. So, I will not try to prevent this. I will let these feelings of doubt wash over me and let them wash away. Like quick sand, struggling with them makes you sink deeper.

I will try to focus on the here and now. I will remember there is still a chance theres a second opening without attaching my entire self worth to if they hire me or not. I will remind myself that I have worked hard for what I have earned as difficult as it is to believe. And I will SLAY this interview to the best of my ability.

Because the rest of that Jagger quote reminds us that “If you try sometimes you might find, you get what you need”

Sincerely,

Your Strong Female Lead

episode seventy-seven // on this day

WARNING: the following post contains content about suicide. It may not be suitable for someone struggling with this topic. Reader discretion is advised.

You are never alone don’t forget that. There are resources:

The NAMI HelpLine: 800-950-6264

National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-8255

Crisis Text Line: can be reached by texting HOME to 741-741

A year ago today was the closest I’ve ever been to taking my own life.

I wish I can say that I regret ever thinking like that or that I have some new lease on life that has allowed me to not sweat the small stuff and see the beauty in everything. Unfortunately that is just not the case.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve come leaps and bounds from where I was a year ago and I’ve learned a lot about what I want for myself in this life and worked to try to attain it. But, that euphoria that some people talk about after they get that close is not something I experienced and I have not become unfamiliar with the darkness either. 

Over the past year my mental illness evolved into something I didn’t think it ever would. I reached some very low lows in friendships that I trusted. I got hurt...really hurt. But, none of that reached the low I reached a year ago. I’m stronger but, I’m not happier and that’s the bitter truth. 

These are the building years...or rather the rebuilding years. I’m changing my priorities in life. Rearranging people and breaking habits. Trying not to strictly rely on precedent and instead rely what feels right now. I won’t deny all the ridiculous things my mental illness has made me get upset with over the years but, I will not live by the rules my disorder gave the world.  

In reality no one knows what it’s like in my head. The fight to stay alive. The fight to not cut everyone off because they will eventually hurt me. The fight to not quit everything in my life because I will eventually fail. I cannot hold myself back any longer if I want to make this life one worth living. 

My heart aches thinking about a year ago. My heart aches thinking about what I would have missed. I would have missed a lot of good but, also a hell of a lot of pain. 

I cannot believe I survived this past year. Truly. I can’t wait until all these building blocks I’m putting together start showing some real life benefits. I’m doing all the hard work now for later. I can’t wait until later but, I’m trying to also enjoy now.

I have a cat now. Never thought I would say that. I love him for real. A fucking cat. 

I’m engaged in politics and taking steps to get more involved. My brain continues to tell me I can’t do it whether it be I’m not smart enough or I’m going to overwhelm myself. 

I’m being more intentional in my friendships, spending time with the friends who have earned my trust not just the ones who are there. 

I try not to hold myself to an unreasonable standard and give myself credit where credit is due. 

I almost gave up a year ago. And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it since. But, I’m not giving up today. I’m choosing to stay. I even got a tattoo on my ankle that says “stay” to prove my dedication. I’m going to fight for this. Even when it feels like I’m drowning and life is impossible. I need to be patient and put in the work.

Sorry if this is scatterbrained. It hurts to think about this pain. It hurts to remind myself that there will always be pain. It hurts to remind myself that I could’ve been out of pain. But, what doesn’t hurt is looking at the life I’m building. Looking at my sisters pregnant ass belly and as uncomfortable as it makes me (I have a pregnancy phobia) thinking about how I want to be a part of that life. Looking at my stupid cat and thinking about the stupid promise I made him to take a LONG life journey.  Looking at my friends like Olive, Cleo, Amelia, June, Leanne and their boyfriends and thinking that I cannot miss where these wonderful lives they are building will go. And I cannot miss meeting the people that eventually take my other incredible friends off the market…who else will grill them like me? I can’t miss any of that and I cannot leave the wake of destruction that will bulldoze through my parents life. So, I fight for them. And damn through all of the bullshit and the people that do hurt me, they are worth the fight. 

A year ago today I was the closest I’ve ever been to taking my own life. Now, I see the person I was a year ago and I commend her for fighting through that moment and I wish I could tell her it gets easier but, the levels keep getting harder...you just get better at playing the game. 

Sincerely, 

Your Strong Female Lead 

((And just a reminder you never have to do this on your own. Don’t suffer if you don’t have to. If you are in crisis text ‘Connect’ to 741-741 or call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 you deserve to be helped, you don’t deserve to suffer if you don’t have to))

episode seventy six // spidey-sense

SPOILER ALERT: if you have not seen the most recent Spider-Man movie “Far From Home” and have any interest in seeing it read this AFTER you watch it. If you don’t care or have already seen it please read away!

Throughout my episodes I have tried my very best to describe my experience with OCD the best way I can. I’ve tried to explain all of the elements but, my main point I want to drive home is that it is a reality distorting disorder. Similar to schizophrenia and schizoaffective disorders, an OCD brain can have trouble deciphering between what’s real and what’s not but, in OCD instead of seeing/hearing things it comes in the form of thoughts. These thoughts weave the most ornate stories making them impossible to ignore and terrifying to believe. For example, I constantly am fighting with the thoughts that my friends are only friends with me out of pity or that they are lying to me or that I’ve gone crazy and no one has told me. These stories do serve a purpose. They represent the worse case scenario and by worrying about them now I cannot be blindsided by one of these stories becoming reality because in my mind-it already is. 

So, what the fuck does this have to do with Spider-Man? 

Well I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it before but, if you haven’t caught on by “Captain’s” code name, I’m a fan of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. The Cap from this blog was named as such because he’s the one who truly introduced me to the Marvel movies. I didn’t like movies for most of my life because I hated that they ended and we never had closure on what happened in that world they just immersed me in for 2 hours but, with Marvel it never ends and the universe keeps expanding. 

So, this episode I’m going to be going full nerd and explain why this last movie from the MCU pushed me into a few epiphany’s.

The movie follows endgame in which we saw the end of a lot of key characters. One of which was Spider-Man’s role model and father figure Tony Stark. Throughout the movie Spider-Man experiences something I know quite well: Imposter Syndrome. Having been trusted with Tony’s technology and the responsibility that comes with that, Peter Parker (aka Spider-man for the geek illiterate) is constantly feeling as if Tony made the wrong choice trusting him and that he is not the guy for the job. Peter is them faced with his version of the Conman that all people OCD have in their heads. The Conman in our minds tell us those stories I was telling you about earlier and will make you believe by whatever means necessary that if you don’t do what it says, something terrible will happen. In the movie this Conman is Mysterio and if you watch the movie you know why blah blah blah. Mysterio LITERALLY ALTERS REALITY AT WILL by creating visuals through projectors and drones that are indistinguishable to the human eye.

Spider-Man eventually defeats this conman but using his “Spidey-sense” to see the illusion for what it is (a bunch of drones with high tech projectors and lasers...duh). I am yet to find an analogy for this part though unless my “Spidey-sense” is gonna be my acceptance and commitment therapy which would be pretty dope. 

BUT! Although Spider-Man defeats Mysterio and saves the world; the world gets a fragmented video from Mysterio claiming he’s not the bad guy and that Spider-Man is! Causing the world to disbelieve Spider-Man even though he was doing the right thing! Ring any bells? 

I have grown up with people in my life that no one sees as they truly are but, I do. They are not good people although people treat them as such and it has caused me a lot of self-doubt although I know what these people did to me is wrong. I’m not sure if Spider-Man is feeling this but, I feel it for him. 

And not to mention that if Spider-Man tried to point out what he sees he will most likely be treated as if he’s delusional or just a dick. 

So let’s get this straight:

Spider-Man, who is questioning his own worthiness, is fighting a conman who can distort reality and now he doesn’t know who to trust because no one sees what he sees and people will most likely think he’s crazy if he tells them.

I think I’m Spider-Man. 

OKAY I’m joking on that part but, watching the movie a second time tonight really got me thinking about this disorder I experience. 

It’s an enemy that is constantly evolving and changing and leaves me feeling like I have no one to trust. It’s invisible to everyone but me and if I try to explain it to people I just feel like I’m exposing them to a dangerous reality and they won’t want to be around me if I do. I live in constant fear (more lately than ever before) that people are lying to me or that this whole life has been a lie. And yet OCD isn’t commonly thought of as a “SMI” or Serious mental illness like Bipolar, Schizophrenia, and Schizoaffective. 

I’m not sitting here saying I have it worse, this isn’t the oppression Olympics but, I am saying that validating people with OCD that this is a reality distorting disorder and teaching their loved ones this will help their lives immensely. It could change that persons life if they are approached not with the content of the situation but, instead they are assisted in walking through the process. Because OCD can attach to ANYTHING and it will attach to what’s most important in that persons life. For me it’s people and relationships but, it’s not about the specific person or relationship it’s about the anxiety about being lied to or being alone etc. 

I really hope this post makes sense even if you haven’t seen the movie but, if not I’ll try to make the next episode a bit less nerdy. 

Sincerely,

Your Strong Female Lead

episode seventy-five // we will be the hopeful

You know what? I’ll say it. It’s scary to be hopeful! It’s honestly terrifying. It makes getting let down so much harder. It makes the smack down that the universe often gives us every once and a while that much more difficult to recover from. But? It’s fucking worth it.

I’m saying this as someone who is shaking while typing these words on my phone right now with tears in my eyes. This is scary shit. I spend my life being eerily prepared for the worst while also blindly trusting other people. It’s a weird combo that has led me to resent the world as a whole along with my own naive tendencies.

But, I’m finally starting to see clearer and I don’t know if it’s the pills or the therapy or what but, I’m starting to see the people around me as people and not my heroes coming to save the day. Not because they are not great. I would not be able to survive without some of the people in my life. But, now I’m seeing them in whole. As complex people with so many stories and experiences of which only some I will know. And although not knowing everything breeds an anxiety caused by the uncertainty of never knowing for sure how I can be the best friend to them, I have to accept that sometimes I’ll say the wrong thing or not recognize when something is bothering them and it sucks but it’ll be ok.

Part of this entire process was identifying that although humans live in tandem with one another as friends or partners or colleagues, we have to be individuals and cannot completely rely on each other for our own identity. I have been so discouraged with myself and who I am that I thought if I join with someone else that is incredible, I will begin to feel better about myself and truly discover who I am. But, that doesn’t work because to live in tandem and in harmony two individuals have to be comfortable in their own identity and decisions. I surrounded myself with mostly amazing people and then feel guilty about weighing them down and that’s because I was trying to fill a hole in my identity. Now I see that I can also live a life where everyone doesn’t know everything and that the uncertainty that people won’t get it if they don’t see the whole picture is one I have to live with.

Over the past month or so I’ve been digging deeper and deeper into why I am the way I am. Where the OCD comes from/connects to. Acceptance and Commitment therapy (the type I’m in now) would say that the cause doesn’t matter and that human suffering happens in everyone’s lives in many different forms and the cause changes nothing about how we deal with it. Although I wouldn’t argue with that I will say it’s still interesting to think about and whether it’s examining my childhood as the daughter of an alcoholic or the losses I’ve had in my life from drugs or the trauma that occurs from losing a friend, my quirks and intricacies begin to make some sort of sense. But, as I continue this introspective search I say my new mantra to myself because a mantra is not powerful if it is hypocritical.

The mantra is: “Just because it’s explainable, doesn’t mean it’s acceptable”

I started saying this to myself as a way to stop being so naive and trusting and to begin taking ownership of when I’m hurt because I’m allowed to feel hurt by something even if I know why it happened. If someone has a stomach bug and they puke on you, you can still react and be pissed it happened even though they can’t control it. This mantra doesn’t mean I have to be mean to someone and yell at them for puking on me, my responsive behavior is still the same approach of compassion but, my self-talk will not be to tell myself to not be upset because that doesn’t work and it makes me rate my feelings and needs as less important.

So, as I continue to dig deeper I remind myself of this. I own my actions even though I know why they are happening. I don’t want others to ever feel I’m trying to explain things away and not clarifying this has been my downfall in the past when sharing my feelings. But, sometimes talking about it and filling people in on what bothers my OCD the most and why can make my life a little bit easier.

Although I don’t expect others to change their entire lives for me, I’m reminding myself that I deserve to have courteous people around me. If I ask someone not to do something because it hurts me and they state understanding, I’m allowed to be disappointed when they don’t follow through. I’m also allowed to step away if this is a cycle that continuously occurs.

And this is not to say that people are not worthy of second chances and forgiveness because I’ve been on the receiving end of both thankfully and understand the necessity of it. But, stepping away is not always an act of malice or hatred it can be out of love. I have to be aware of my recovery and if that sounds selfish that sucks because it’s not meant to be.

I will say with much hesitation and a shaky voice that I am hopeful. The world isn’t amazing right now and it doesn’t suck either but, the scales will tip one way at some point because that’s how life goes and although the uncertainty can lead me to crippling anxiety and suicidal thoughts it can also be reassuring if you look at it just right. You may have to squint your eyes and tilt your head a little bit but, then you see it: a world that doesn’t look half bad and...I’ll be here for it.

Sincerely,

Your Strong Female Lead