MH

Content warning: Talk of suicide, miscarriage, infant death, death, and cancer Photo by  P C  from  Pexels I thought I was done grieving and that I had such a good relationship with my dad that I adjusted very well to his death. I thought the second year of grief being worse only applied to parents and spouses, but I was wrong. It applies to everyone, and it feels like I’m regressing in grieving, but I know it’s normal. TL;DR: The years since my dad died have been some of the best years of my life, and I feel guilty for saying that. It’s not that him being gone makes me happy. It’s that there’s so much that came after he died— because he died —that helped make life better, easier, and I wish that he didn’t have to be gone for it to happen. In my dream one morning awhile back, it was January 1, 2021. I remember thinking that 2020 was the fastest year of my life (Yeah, because when I went to sleep, it was March 26, 2020.). I didn’t know who won the U.S. Presidential election or how t

Photo by  Porapak Apichodilok  from  Pexels This isn’t your typical “save yourself” sort of be-your-own-hero post. In fact, what might be more appropriate for this post is You are already your own hero . Right? I can’t be the only one who does this: Take anyone I even remotely admire and turn them into this untouchable hero-like, god-like figure—my mom, my dad, people I went to school with who I admired something about them, celebrities whether I like them or not, my favorite people on social media, anyone who appears more successful/got-their-sh*t-together more than me, and anyone who is related to or friends with any of these people, and on and on and on. I bought Own Your Everyday by Sparkles Lee Dooley—just kidding, Jordan Lee Dooley (that’s a reference to the book itself)—probably back in July of last year (?) (Oh my God), and yes, I’m just reading it now. I tend to get really excited for alllll sorts of books I hear about or see those people I like reading (Or writing—ugh, a dre

Yep. You’ve read that right. I don’t know if I want to be a nurse. But I have to do something. I don’t know if I want to work twelve plus hours two or three days in a row with only two or three days in between for only $3,000 a month after taxes, retirement, and benefits have been taken out. I don’t know if I want to be abused by patients, coworkers, and doctors. I don’t know if I want the laws of my work and the decision of whether I go to jail or can ever be a nurse again for a mistake to be made by someone who’s never worked as a nurse in a hospital for a day in their life. I don’t know if I want to miss significant amounts of time with my partner, children, family, or friends to make sure your partner, children, family, or friends stay alive, or as it relates to our current situation, I don’t know if I want to endanger my own, my partner, my children, my family, or my friends’ lives trying to save the life of you, your partner, your children, your family, or friends. I want to help