"you are a goddamn cheetah."

I like to know the ending of things before I commit to them.  I don't like stories where you find out the bad stuff later.  I think the books should come with a warning.  I don't want the false sense of security only to find out later that your favorite character has been murdered, the couple doesn't live happily ever after, that soylent green is people.
So what I like to do is unpack all my heavy shit right off the bat.  No surprises.  I am not the girl who drinks fruity drinks and flirts casually and tumbles home and falls right to sleep without a care in the world.  I am the girl who consumes dark, gritty, graphic content.  I am the girl who will ask you how many people you've murdered when we meet in a bar (to be fair...he WAS a double Gemini).  I am the girl who goes into her closet and pulls out all the baggage so you can see it before you realize too late that I'm not the girl for you.
I used to worry about that.  I used to think I was too much.  Too intense.
I learned at 9 years old that I needed to shrink myself.  I remember it like it happened this morning.  I was in 4th grade.  I had cut my hair short like Kelly Kapowski in the college years of Saved by the Bell.  I liked the clothes I wore.  I played make believe and rode my bike for hours without a care in the world.  Then the school talent show rolled around.  I was always a performer.  I loved being the center of attention and entertaining anyone who could still still for longer than 2 minutes.  I pulled out costumes and Madonna cassette tapes and my best choreography learned from VH1 music videos (MTV was not allowed).  So when two of the most popular girls in 4th grade (and in my neighborhood) asked me to perform in the talent show with them I knew this was the moment I had trained for.  I was ready.  There were two conditions to my invitation remaining valid
1. I needed to try at let my hair grow because it was way too short to be girly
2. I needed to lose 10 pounds.
That was the first time I went home, looked in the mirror and had any whisperings of anything being wrong or different about me.
Nine years old and trying to figure out how to shrink.  Now I was too loud.  Too big.  Too different.

I think back to that moment and didn't understand how pivotal it was in shaping the next, almost 20 years of my life.  From then on I was dedicated to being the most perfect I could be.  Something about trying to be perfect though is that you will always fail.  So I would fail.  I would not lose 10 pounds in 2 weeks at the age of 9, my hair would still be short, I would not be the star of the talent show.  So I pinched my skin in the mirror so hard it would leave bruises trying to force my imperfection away.  I would lay in bed praying to be skinny or pretty.  I lost all control when my perfect outfit hadn't been washed and I had to wear something I knew those girls would find a problem with and would scream and cry and refuse to go to school.  I stopped playing with my less popular friends even though I had the most fun with them.  I changed my entire personality.  I was no longer the loud performer.  I was quiet.  Agreeable.  Afraid to cause waves.  As a teenager another popular girl I so desperately wanted to like me asked if I liked Britney Spears or Christina Aguilera better.  My obvious choice was Britney.  "Um....well I don't really know...." I stammered.  "Britney Spears is a slut" she retorted.  "Yeah totally" I agreed.  An opinion so inconsequential caused me almost panic because I was so afraid of my own feelings, thoughts, and opinions. I had shrunk myself down to the tiniest of cages in hopes of acceptance.
The first time I made a "controversial" Facebook post I was about 25 years old.  Babies had just been gunned down in their kindergarten class.  My post started "I'm so sorry about this post"  "I know some people will hate me"  "I understand if you want to unfriend me".  Shrinking myself back down into my good little girl cage.  Don't be seen.  Don't be heard.  Don't make anyone upset. Apologize for your feelings.  Beg them not to notice your faults.  Become so small you don't take up any space or exist at all.
Glennon Doyle talks about this in her book "Untamed" (which if you're a woman and have not read - leave this right now, go, I will give you my Amazon account info).  She talks about taking her kids to a safari and the animal keepers introducing them to a cheetah who thought she was a dog.  She was trained with a dog and learned to act like a dog.  To blindly chase after a small reward because that's what she had been trained to do.  She had no idea that if she remembered her wildness for 5 seconds she could tear the animal keeper to pieces and run off into the wild.  She had power.  Because she was not a dog.  She was a goddamn cheetah.
I started remembering my wildness when I started nursing school.  Suddenly, passion had been restored to my life..and I was good at it.  It made sense to me.  It clicked with me.  I came alive again.  I started to embrace my wildness.  I was ok being the one who spoke up in class.  I made jokes instead of waiting for some guy to make a more lame joke and have people think he was hilarious and amazing.  I answered questions.  I challenged myself.  I was unafraid of being wrong.  I was unafraid of being seen.
I had found the loose wire in the cage keeping me non-existent.  I became wild again.  I was a goddamn cheetah.
I graduated with honors.  I got a grown up nurse job.  I advocated for patients.  I spoke up for myself.  I stopped apologizing for my feelings.  I let myself voice my opinions. I embraced the space I took up.  I didn't pinch imperfections in the mirror because I no longer saw imperfections in the mirror.  I saw me.  I saw my thin hair I used to hate and thought of my aunt who has always had thin hair too and seems to be doing just fine.  I saw my eyes which have always been my favorite feature. My nose with the deviated septum just like my dad and my brother.  I would hear my loud laugh and remember my grandma.  I was walking history and ancestry.  I was strength.  I was power.  I was a goddamn cheetah.
I have now made it 30ish years and have become my own hero.  The hero I so desperately needed at 9 years old.  A hero to whisper - "You are not a dog, do not let them put you in that small cage of nothingness.  You are memories.  You are your parents biggest wish come to life....you are a goddamn cheetah."

2:09 AM

Sometimes my thoughts fill my brain up so much that I feel like I can't breathe without bumping into something.
So I decide to write.  Even though no one even reads blogs anymore, it's a way for me to empty my head a little.  Watch thoughts and feelings trickle out and turn from something messy into something tangible.  I love hearing the sound the keys make as I pour these thoughts out.  Each strike feels like relief.
So what's on the agenda tonight?  What is keeping me awake?  What is causing this mind claustrophobia?  Well the easiest answer would just be "me" but nothing that comes to "me" is ever easy.
Tonight I took a brief but powerful walk down memory lane.  A time about 5 years ago when I felt truly alive and free.  The walk started off breezy.  Like stepping outside on the first day of Spring.  Everything is thawing and coming alive.  In the middle of this walk I ran into a massive boulder and getting around that boulder was painful and difficult and took that first day of Spring feeling and shot it right into Canadian January.  I felt cold.  Empty.  Strange.
About 5 years ago I started coming into my own.  I started going to therapy.  I started figuring out how to love myself.  I fell in love with someone else.  My best friend.  I started slowly.  I didn't race into it like I usually do everything else in my life, maybe that's why it felt like it would be real.  It was what everyone says it will be.  It was electric and powerful and made me feel completely free in a way I had never felt before.  I spent nights with him as we poured the deepest and most secret parts of ourselves out to show each other.  I spent days with him driving in the sun with the windows down.  Music on the radio, knowing it would take at least 20 minutes to get all the knots out of my hair from the wind, but not caring because he would take those blue eyes and look right into mine while we talked.  Warsan Shire has a quote that says "His eyes were the same color as the sea in a postcard someone sends you when they love you, but not enough to stay".  And that's what he was.  He was so real and so tangible - but he was like the ocean.  Floating in and out.  Sometimes drifting away, barely reaching your toes in the sand. Other times overwhelming you and taking your breath away with the force of it.  I wrote letters to him.  I kept them in a box in my closet.  A place to keep all the words I didn't know how to say to him, childishly thinking that we didn't need those words.  That what we had was so special and so unique - convention would ruin it.  It turns out there were so many words we needed.  He hurt me.  Over and over again.   Just like the sea he would float away and come crashing back in with a storm.  I could never figure out what he wanted but when he was there I didn't care.  I just wanted him.  His laugh in my living room.  His name on my phone.  His Jeep motor coming to pick me up for some random adventure.  I allowed myself to give in completely to this crazy messy and insane feeling because...it was him.  The times he was floating away I would cling onto the good memories.  The ones of us texting rap lyrics to each other, the times when we would sing power ballads at the top of our lungs together, the Chinese food and bad 80's movie nights.  I thought those were enough.  But it wasn't.  So when he left for good - I was left hollow and empty.  The memories no longer filled me with warmth but instead they made me curl up against myself.  Feeling my bones to make sure I was still a human.  Crying so hard I ached.  Staring at the wall when there were no more tears left.
I still remember the first date I went on after he was gone.  I remember the sound of my fake laugh.  Looking out the window of the restaurant just in case he happened to be walking by. Wondering if he would be hurt to see me with someone else.  "I had a great time - do it again sometime?" came the text the next day.  "I just didn't feel anything between us" was the response.  Maybe because I didn't feel anything at all.
So here I am 5 years later.  I've tried giving myself to others.  I even consistently dated someone for awhile.  He would compliment me endlessly on how beautiful he thought I was.  He loved that I made him laugh.  I was like a quirky puzzle that he was interested in solving.  There were things he didn't like about me. My love of murder, the fact that I was a vegetarian, and the tiny detail of the fact that he felt like I was disconnected.  That I wasn't really giving him very much but pretending to.  I acted outraged but the fact was - he was right.  Quirky puzzles get tiring when you can't solve them.  Another one bites the dust.
I continue trying.  I hop on those dating apps and I swipe and swipe.  I laugh at dumb jokes.  I flirt mindlessly.  I try desperately to form a connection before realizing I'm playing pretend.
So tonight the biggest heaviest thought, the one sucking the air out of my lungs is "Can I even connect with someone again?".  Are none of these guys right?  Or am I just all wrong?  Am I looking for something unrealistic?  Am I secretly comparing every relationship to the one with him?  Is that ok?  The good parts were so good.  They were everything I ever wanted.  Is it possible to find that again with someone who stays?  I certainly haven't found that to be true.  So I continue to talk and flirt and try to connect all while looking for the next one.  Wondering if the really good thing is just around the corner.  But what if I keep looking around that corner and find nothing.  I keep running and running and just run right into myself.  How do I determine if there really is something better out there or if I'm just so irreversibly screwed up that I should just give up now.  Or do I lower my expectation?  Do I settle for someone good who doesn't make me feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest everytime I see his name on my phone. Is it still real if the sound of his voice saying my name doesn't make me want to cry it sounds so nice?  Do you only get one chance at that feeling?
It's 2:49 now.  My head feels lighter.  My heart feels heavier.  I don't miss him.  I don't think about him at all really anymore.  I'm a different person.  My favorite songs are different.  I have a new favorite color of blue that doesn't resemble his eyes at all.  Even my hair is different.  There is nothing left of the girl who was willing to give everything to him.  Who was ready to let love take her and hurt her over and over.
And maybe that is the problem.  There is nothing left.

The Secret Club: My Love Letter to Nursing School

Today was my last official day of school.  I typed that sentence and immediately started crying.  I have no adequate words that could possibly describe what this experience has been for me.  The last time I tried to explain it I finally said "It's like what I imagine falling in love is like".

This has brought me more pain, stress, sleepless nights, heartbreak, and feelings of frustration that anything else.  But it has also brought me more joy, triumph, laughter, and peace than anything else.  I'm going to share a really long excerpt from a book on nursing I read once.  It is by far the closest thing I've ever found to describe what nursing actually is.
"Nursing is among the most important professions in the world. 
In no other profession do people float ably among specialties, helping to ease babies into being, escorting men and women gently into death, and heroically resurrecting patients in between.  There are few other careers in which people are so devoted to a noble purpose that they work twelve, fourteen, sixteen straight hours without eating, sleeping, or taking breaks and often without commensurate pay simply because they believe in the importance of their job.  They are frequently the first responders on the front lines of malady and contagion, risking their own health to improve someone else's.  Nursing is more than a career; it is a calling.  Nurses are remarkable.  Yet contemporary literature largely neglects them.
At 3.5 million strong in the United States and more than 20 million worldwide, nurses are the largest group of healthcare providers.  The women who compromise 90 percent of the workforce are a unique sisterhood whose bonds are forged through the most dramatic miracles and traumas as well as the tedious, routine tastas necessary to keep human bodies functioning.  Nursing, for brave men and women, is "like a secret club that holds immense emotional joy and fulfillment in spite of shared tragedies".  Nurses call the profession a secret club because their experiences are so novel, their jobs so intimate and occasionally horrifying, their combination of compassion and desensitization so peculiar, that they imagine nobody else could understand what it is like to work in their once-white shoes.  
Pop culture would have us believe that nurses play a small, trivial role in healthcare; medical television programs tend to show doctors lingering at patient's bedsides while nurses flit and intone "Yes, Doctor" in the background.  But this is not the case.  "We are not just bed-making, drink serving, poop wiping, medication passing assistants.  We are much more".
They are, for example, reporters.  They discuss and document patient status, serving as the main point of contact for doctors, surgeons, therapists, social workers, and other specialists.  They are watchmen, keeping vigil, meticulously monitoring vital signs, deciphering patients' individual trends and patterns, painstakingly double-checking dosages and medications.  They are detectives, investigating deviations, asking questions, listening carefully, searching for clues.  They are warriors, called to serve at the first sign of outbreak, fighting infection, containing disease.  They are gatekeepers, turning staff members away when patients need a break from procedures, a nap, or a moment to digest their circumstances.  They are scientists, constantly learning, tackling sociology, psychology, physiology, anatomy, pharmacology, chemistry, microbiology.  They are advocates, lobbying physicians for or against procedures, for pain assistance, for a few more minutes of time.  They are teachers, educating patients and parents: how to suction a tracheostomy, change an airway, inject medication, breastfeed a newborn.  They are the muscle, holding patients down to insert or remove tubes or needles, pushing people to get out of bed following surgery, breaking a sweat when performing CPR, lifting, moving, pushing, forcing, turning.  They are confidants, protectors, communicators, comforters, nurturers; easing fears, offering solace, cradling babies whose parents can't be there, consoling loved ones who feel that all hope is gone.  They are multitaskers: supporting, coordinating, and inhabiting all these roles at once.  And they are lionhearted diplomats, helping a patient die with dignity in one room, facilitating a recovery in the next, keeping their composure even when they are shaken to the core."
My heart is filled with so much love and pride at what I have accomplished and the profession I am joining.  Throughout my time I have laughed and joked about how terrible men are with a patient while also comforting a woman who just lost hers.  I have witnessed miracles, humans coming back from death, infants that shouldn't be alive who fight with everything they have.  I have held the hands of a woman experiencing a terrible miscarriage.
I have watched two beautiful baby boys go from tiny and struggling to leaving the hospital in the arms of their parents.

 I have placed tubes and IV's.  I have mixed and hung and passed medications.  I have had to be there when a doctor gives someone a terrible diagnosis.  I have celebrated when a very sick patient recovers and goes home.  I have seen people die.   I have seen people be born.  I have cried and laughed and ached and smiled.

Beyond just the experiences I have had....I have to briefly talk about the family I have created with the people I have experienced all of this with.  My own personal secret club.  The people I can text, "I don't know what I'm doing I am having a nervous breakdown" and they respond that they feel the same way.  The people who I have cried with and laughed so hard I've peed my pants with.  The people I can vent to about anything and they understand.  The people I can talk to about a difficult case or patient and they know exactly how to help me decompress.  I love these people.  These people have my whole heart for my whole life.  I will ache for them so much when I don't get to see them every week.

My instructors have been a constant source of understanding.  More than teaching us technical skills or nursing concepts, they have taught me how to love others.  They have taught me how to fight through hard things.  They have encouraged me and kept me sane.  I am so lucky.
There are too many thoughts and feelings but I just wanted to document what nursing and the last 3 years has meant to me.  When I decided to quit my salary job and go into debt for nursing school I had at least 700 breakdowns and I questioned my decision every day.  It was in the quiet moments of a terrible night while I was on my knees pleading for the Lord to help me understand that I heard a whisper "this is who you are, this is who you are meant to be, this is what I made you for".

The Lord made me to be a nurse.  He made me to advocate and love others fiercely.  He made me to save lives and prepare other lives to pass on to the next life.  I am a nurse.  This is who I was always meant to be...and I'm so glad I was.

Females Are Strong As Hell: Why I Support the Women's March

I have been thinking about writing this post for a week now.  I have been struggling to put my thoughts and feelings properly into words.  Everyone knows that prior to Donald Trump being elected as the president I was not a fan.  I felt his derogatory terms about women and his disgusting imitation of someone with disabilities was horrifying.  When the tape leaked of Donald Trump's conversation with Billy Bush, I heard a lot of people still supporting Donald Trump.  Saying that he only said the word "pussy" and we hear that word all the time.  I will repeat myself when I previously stated that it was not his use of the word pussy that was offensive (although I do find it to be quite a vile word for the female anatomy - nicknamed by men no doubt) it was his use of the word "grab".  Grab is aggressive.  Grab does not equate with consent.  Billy Bush was fired for laughing at what Donald Trump was saying.  Donald became President of the United States of America.  The most respected seat in the world.

Shortly after Donald Trump was elected you had the people he was surrounding himself with making decisions that seems antiquated and unfair.  Talks of overturning Roe v Wade, de-funding Planned Parenthood, and spreading the thought and feelings that all immigrants were terrorists.  The White House website completely changed.  There was no mention of resources for the LGBTQ community.  To my conservative and religious friends- this part is specifically for you.
I am a Christian.  I am Mormon.  I am straight.  I am white.  I am a woman.
I have never had an abortion nor have I ever been in a situation where that has been a choice I had to make.  I have never been in a position where I needed birth control and could not afford it.  I have never been in a position where my abilities or status were judged prematurely based on the color of my skin.  I have never been hurt or taunted because I was gay.
I have however experienced men saying vile, sexually aggressive things to me simply because I have a vagina.  I have been whistled at.  I have been called a stuck up bitch because I did not reciprocate those feelings or find them flattering.   I have heard comments in church alluding to the fact that men can't help it if they have so many women to choose from and another woman's feelings get hurt because of it.  I have heard other comments in church stating that it must be the woman's fault that she is not married.  There must be something wrong with her.  I have held a friend while she cried after being raped by a guy who she thought loved her.  I have held that same friend after she was told by police there was not much they could do and asking her point blank is she was "sure she said no".  Have you ever heard anyone ask someone who has just been shot "are you sure you told them not to shoot you?"

So here's where my passion for the women's march comes in to play.  I have seen many articles floating around saying "why are women doing this?  Name ONE right women LEGALLY do not have that men do!"  "Stop whining!" "What do you want?  Free manicures and pedicures???"
1. Legally you are correct.  Men and women LEGALLY have the exact same rights.  But how about the female nurses I know with years of experience getting paid less than male nurses that have just graduated nursing school?  How about the fact that this week SEVEN men were in the oval office making executive decisions (including decisions about women's reproductive rights) and that would never be seven women in a room deciding men's reproductive rights (or any rights for that matter).  How about the fact that I have seen articles calling slut-shaming and cat calling "trivial" problems.  How about the fact that rape is the only crime for which the excuse that the temptation to commit it was too powerful is considered a DEFENSE when in any other crime it would be considered an admission of guilt.  How about the fact that telling women to quit whining and we must just want free manicures and pedicures is executing the reason for the march flawlessly.

2.  I think the terms "pro life" and "pro choice" are antiquated terms based on what they are currently representing.  Pro life is the term for being anti-abortion.  And that seems to be about it.  We are demanding that women have babies but what about after the baby is born?  How are we supporting these women who have had these babies because we told them they have to?  Because we sure as hell don't want to help them with welfare either.  So we wonder why our homeless population and crime rates escalate?  I personally have religious and personal beliefs that would prevent me from having an abortion personally.  HOWEVER - my church (yes Mormon friends I'm looking at you) is in fact ROOTED in the concept of PRO CHOICE.  Free agency.  The right for us all to choose. Do WE believe in abortion?  No.  But demanding that someone makes a decision based on our personal beliefs is wrong.  If you are truly truly "pro life" (in the terms that anti-abortionists use it) then be all pro life.  Be pro welfare.  Be pro public funding for programs that help these women raise children.  Make adoption more accessible.  Otherwise this is what you sound like "Why would a crack whore have a baby???  She can't even take care of it!  A child shouldn't be raised in that environment!  Oh a gay couple wants to adopt that baby?  No.  No no no we can't do that.  That's wrong too".  MAKE UP YOUR DAMN MINDS.
3. I have seen a lot of people post about the women in the streets who were using vulgar language "more than Donald Trump ever did".  Once again.  The problem with Trump was not the term he used.  It was the aggressive use of the words around it.  These women took these disgusting terms and used them instead.  You want to say you'll grab my pussy?  How about I make a "pussycat" hat and march against you? (Because once again the hat was NOT A VAGINA.  THE HAT HAD CAT EARS.  LIKE "PUSSY" CAT.)  You want to call a woman "nasty".  I'll call myself nasty all day.  Because the only crime you could accuse a "nasty woman" of was just being a woman.  And I am in fact a woman.

4.  The march was not in ANY way shape or form a pro-abortion march.  This march included men and women.  Gay and straight.  Atheist and Christian.  Muslim.  Buddhist.  Pro life and pro choice (don't get me started on the people saying pro life people were not welcome....it was one group.  Please stop).  White, Black, Hispanic, Asian.
This was more of a march for those who were worried about their rights being taken away than anything else.  This was a march for my friends who are now even more scared to be black because of the racist comments the POTUS has made.  This was a march for my friends who are now even more scared to be gay because of the bigoted comments the VP has made.  This was a march for anyone scared that their access to free birth control, other contraceptive, STD and cancer screenings were in jeopardy because of the comments Paul Ryan made.
5.  Please stop talking about the march in broad terms  Were there some women who were being more vulgar than others?  Yes.  Were there some people making inappropriate comments about burning down the white house?  (Madonna....girl....I'm looking at you)  Yes.  Were there some who made a bigger statement about abortion than anything else?  Yes.  Nobody is perfect.  Women are just as imperfect as everyone else.  But if I were to judge you based solely on the banana balls crazy statements made by people such as Ann Coulter....I don't think you'd be very happy with me.  And PLEASE stop saying that women asking for equal rights is women acting like victims.  None of the women I know who have been through horrific things view themselves as a "victim" of anything.  We are strong.  Compassionate.  Outspoken.  Powerful.  We are not victims and I see no behavior that justifies the word victim for women who are fighting for equality.  Also please make note of the word "equality"....people like to say women want to be more than men or greater than or cut men down.  Nope.  Just equal.  I saw one sign that said "men of quality do not fear equality"....that's pretty much all we're going for here guys.

All of this is to say, I don't remember an America more angry, more divided, or more hateful than I have in the last 6 months.  What happened to love thy neighbor?  What happened to everyone matters?  What happened to bring me your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the homeless, the tempest tossed.  I feel the hatred and anger surrounding the women's march and to be honest, anyone with a differing opinion than Donald Trump - goes against every religious and personal belief I have.  I was taught by my church and my parents to speak against things that were wrong.  Where do you think the Savior would be if He were here today.  Who were the first people he went to during His ministry.  The poor.  The hungry.  The needy.  The outcasts.  The adulterers.  The prostitutes.  The imperfect.  He chose to lead with love.  Teach by example.  He never let His differing feelings or opinions cause him to look at anyone any differently.  I don't like Trump's America.  I don't think we are making anything great.  We are building walls around our country and around our hearts.  We are forgetting to help those who need us.
I was taught with love that we all have the right to choose.  I respect your right to choose to support Donald Trump.  That doesn't mean I have to.  That doesn't mean I have to agree with everything he says or does.  I respect a woman's right to choose what is best for her life and her body.  That doesn't mean you have to.  But would you force someone to eat cake just because you like it?  Do we force people to join our church just because we know it's the only way to true happiness.  No.
So...can we please spread a little more kindness.  A little more listening and talking instead of arguing and spreading hatred (it CAN happen....if you question that....message me and I'll link you to a healthy conversation I had with people about the wall along the Mexican border.  It was healthy and enlightening).  Can we brainstorm better solutions and  use our voices to truly make America great?  I think that's the America our dear Lady Liberty would want.  The America that we were always supposed to have.  The one we can have.  Because kindness is magic and human beings are magic if we let ourselves be.

Mom

I never needed my mom.  I was born with an innate stubbornness, a fierce independence, the belief that I knew everything and I could do it all on my own (except when I needed something like money or a ride...I was a real treat of a child).  I didn't talk to my mom.  I didn't share things with her.  I didn't tell her about my insecurities, being bullied, feeling like no one liked me, friends being mean to me, or any of my failures.  I wanted my parents to think I was perfect.  I wanted them to think that I had everything under control and I had it all figured out.  I was an overweight preteen with acne so...I had literally nothing figured out y'all.
When things got hard in my family I got resentful and angry.  And can you guess who I took all that anger and resentment out on?  My mom.  It wasn't fair and I'm sure Freud would have something to say about it but I did it nonetheless.
So here I am 30 years from my birth and 20 something years from ceasing to feel like I needed my mom and yet if there is one person I need more than anyone else on the earth...it's her.
So what changes?  Maturity I suppose.  Life experiences definitely.  Calling your mom from Target having a Level 5 meltdown because you don't know what kind of jam to buy can humble you a bit too.  With maturity and life experiences comes reflection.  And as I've reflected...this is what I've realized

• The woman who drove me to school and dance lessons was my mom
• The woman who calmed me down after a yelling match with my dad about homework was my mom
• The woman who would make every single holiday feel special was my mom (seriously...even Valentine's Day you guys)
• The woman who had huge dreams and the talent to make them come true but sacrificed all of that for a family was my mom
• The woman who lost her daughter and her mother within 2 years of each other and still forged ahead was my mom
• The woman who would answer the phone every day I called from college crying was my mom (this was the first time I was in college...we'll get to nursing school in a minute)
• The woman who can make you laugh until you pee your pants is my mom
• The woman who would still get up early in the morning so you don't have to walk in the cold and snow is my mom
• The woman who will answer the phone even though she's in bed and listen to me vent about hurt feelings is my mom
• The woman who would defend her children until her last breath is my mom
• The woman who passionately encourages me to pursue my dream of being a nurse is my mom
• The woman who believes in me is my mom
• The woman who taught me to value myself is my mom
• The woman who loves me even though I am still stubborn, fiercely independent, and a know-it-all is my mom
• The woman who thinks I'm wonderful even though I am terribly flawed is my mom

I wish all the time these days that I could see myself through my mom's eyes.  Moms have a special way of seeing their children.  A special way of knowing just what to say and just when to say it.  A way to keep the entire family together.  Dads are cool but moms hold it all together.  Even if you may not have your mom in your life for whatever reason...chances are....you know a mom.  And I would bet everything I have (it's not much..don't get excited) they posses these same qualities.  They will listen to you when you're elated or when your heart is breaking.  They would fight for you.  They would help you any way they could.  They would defend you and love you so much you don't know what to do with it all. 

Because moms are magic.  My mom is magic.  I don't know much...but I know that.

Lessons I Learned In 2016

Here we are again.  We all know my feelings on 2016 but even the worst of years bring lessons...usually the worst of years brings the biggest lessons.  So here are all the many important things I learned in 2016:

• Expectations are the biggest double edged swords.  We are comforted in the belief that it is the truth, but it holds us back and keeps us from better possibilities
• Don't place all of your happiness in other people.  The only person you can completely trust with that is yourself.  If you don't look out for you no one will.
• Love doesn't always last, but if you keep your heart open you will always find someone to love again.  You can't find your soulmate with your heart locked away
• Don't be afraid to ask for help.  We all understand what it means to fall on rough times.  Reach out to the people closest to you when you're in need.
• Don't take the people in your life for granted.  Sometimes we are so worried about what goes on in our lives that we forget how much our presence means to our loved ones. 
• Make everyday thanksgiving day.  Not the food (even though we can all agree there are few things better than mashed potatoes) but the way you think about the world.  Spend every day realizing just how many great things happen, so that when you're down on your luck you realize there is something to smile about. 
• Sometimes you have to let people go.  We want to hold on because we think our love and attention can solve everything, but then we have nothing left for ourselves.  When someone leaves you drained after talking, or being with them, it's time to let go.
• Learn to accept your flaws.  If you accept every part of yourself there will be nothing that can take you down.  You will be more invincible than Achilles.
• Accept and acknowledge when you're wrong.  When you take a step down and let go of your pride, and stop pretending to be infallible that when people will be most comfortable to approach you.
• Open up to people.  Share your soul with them.  If they are really meant to be in  your life they will stay and accept that part of you (even the terrible ugly parts).  The things that are really meant to happen, will.

Happy New Year friends and family.  2016 was incredibly challenging but I grew so much.  Cheers to 2017.  

xoxo

V

Dear 2016

Dear 2016,

Hey.....we need to talk.  I think we should break up.  You're worse than Kelly on Season 11 of Real Housewives of Orange County (and that's like...really really bad).
It's not like I wasn't hopeful at first.  When we got together in January I was really excited.  My previous relationship with 2015 had been pretty difficult and full of growing pains.  And just like Elizabeth Taylor (R.I.P.) I thought a new relationship would be just the answer.  I'll admit...getting into a relationship with you was a gamble considering you were an election year BUT you didn't have Ebola so that seemed like a great step in the right direction.  We started off strong with Beyonce and Peyton Manning's triumphant Super Bowl win.  And Leo FINALLY won an Oscar!  2016.....you were giving me so much joy.  I thought "finally...a relationship I can count on".

And then March came around...from there on out....you were the worst.  You overwhelmed me with your need for attention.  Between the Rio Olympic games, Harambe (R.I.P.),   and the election, I was on media overload.  Then you try to scare me with the threat of Zika.  That was a low blow after you knew about 2015's stunt with Ebola (yeah....I've mentioned Ebola twice now....it was real).  I honestly wanted to leave you then but then I would have missed out on a new season of "The Walking Dead" with you and....I mean you kind of even ruined that but we won't go there.  I just have never felt secure with you.

I'll never forgive you for taking Prince, Gene Wilder, Bowie, Alan Rickman, Gary Marshall, and Alan Thicke, among others.  And I didn't want to mention this but....the mannequin challenge?  Really?  What was that???

Then came Brexit and the trash fire that was the 2016 Presidential election.  Through all the immaturity and anger....I just really don't see myself with someone like that.  I just don't want to be with you anymore.  To be honest?  None of my friends or family really like you either.  You're just the worst to be around.  So I guess this is goodbye.  You can take you terrible political nightmare with you but please....don't take any more legends with you ok?

Thanks, 

Vanessa 

Drug Store Make Up Recommendations

So my friend Jen requested this post and I'm actually really glad she did.  I never get to play with or talk about make up anymore.  My life revolves around IV's, catheters, surgery, and a plethora of human bodily fluids.
I am very glamorous.
So obviously I would be the person to come to for make up recommendations.  I actually made a Snapchat video about a month ago about this very thing that I will try to add to this post.
So pause Fuller House, grab some hot chocolate, and pretend I'm a famous beauty blogger about to unlock all my best secrets....

Foundation
Revlon Color Stay for Normal/Dry skin $10.99
I can't say enough good things about this foundation.  It goes on so well and stays on all day.  They also have every single shade.
Pricey comparison: NARS Sheer Glow $42

Eyeliner
Maybelline Eye Studio Master Precise Liquid Eyeliner $7.99
I am obsessed with felt tip liquid eyeliner.  I think they are the absolute best and go on so smooth for that perfect cat eye.  Cat eye is kinda my thing so....it's what I do.  This eyeliner is just as good as the expensive ones I've used and it seriously lasts forever.  I only buy like 2 a year and I use it every day.  At $7 each I would say that's a huge deal!
Pricey comparison: Lancome Artliner $30

Mascara
Maybelline The Falsies Mascara $7.99
So everyone knows that I'm a huge mascara snob.  I am very picky and I don't devote myself to a mascara easily.  This is THE BEST.  I repeat THE BEST drugstore mascara you can own.  It fans lashes out so perfectly I want to kiss myself.
Pricey comparison: Too Faced Better Than Sex $24

Blush
Milani Baked Blush in "Luminoso" $8.99
I have a blush obsession.  Seriously.  I think I have like 15 different blushes.  I found this blush and fell in love.
Pricey comparison: NARS blush in Orgasm $36 (it's my one true love so please know I don't make this suggestion lightly)

And because I'm me....I have to include skin care.  I have found two wonderful skin care products both by Garnier that I'm obsessed with.

And that is that.  Jen...I hope it helps.  I'll stay on the look out and keep you updated.  And to everyone else....I know.  I'm like the plain oatmeal in the variety pack.  You can use all the fancy ones but eventually....you'll have to use me.  On second thought....I could also use that line on my Tinder profile.
xoxo
V
For my awkward video....{.here you go}

Dear Anxiety Attack

Dear anxiety attack,
in thirty minutes you will be over, but for right now you are the eye of my own storm; raging winds, hailstones the size of my self-confidence, these tiny things.  You are the deadly change in my climate.   You are a nuclear warhead in my chest and I am growing so tired of having to tear the mass casualties from my rib cage every day.
You are the constant shake of my hands.
You are a machine that no one ever has the skill to fix when you fall to pieces inside me.  A constant groaning and grinding of gears in my brain that can never seem to be adjusted.
You are worry lines in the smiles people you exhaust besides only me.  I am tired of going to bed wondering if I've lost another part of myself today.  Wondering if I lost another person you affected.  You moved into my body, not theirs.  You could at least only burn down my forest.
You are sinking into a bathtub filled with ice water.  I grow accustomed to numbness and the wonder if I will be able to keep my head above the surface.
Dear anxiety attack,
in twenty minutes you will be over, but for right now you are a cave.  No sunlight and no life thrive here, only the decay of things that actually make me feel okay.  You say I am not allowed to have freedom.
You are restrictions I put upon myself.  When you whisper that my heart is already so full of you there is no room for anything else inside my weary bones.
You are bumping into someone and wondering for the rest of the evening if I left a bruise.
You are being forced to fight a vicious war scene.  A war scene where you are usually finished with me in thirty minutes; twenty of actual panic, and ten of bonus panic for knowing I let this happen again.
Dear anxiety attack,
in ten minutes you will be over.  You are the violating feeling that I have been assaulted and harassed and beaten without the marks on my body.
You are not sorry for this.
You will never be sorry for this.
I don't think you ever knew how to be sorry.
It's been thirty minutes.  I'm fine.
Just burn this letter after you read it.
I'll write you a new one next time.

#notokay

I was 17 the first time I was sexually assaulted.  I didn't know that's what it was at the time.  I also didn't realize this would be the first time.  Of many.
I was working my first real job at a pizza place and was the only female employee.  We changed into our uniforms at work.  I frequently dealt with my shift manager "jokingly" offering to help me get dressed or joining me to change.  Brushing up against me because the space was just "so small".  He would call me Tootsie and mention better shifts if I wanted to kiss him.
He was in his 30's.
I was 17.

The first time I was catcalled I was 12.  I was walking home from school and a man driving in his car slowed down to tell me that my "legs look good in that little skirt you're wearing".  That I should be careful wearing that type of outfit around older boys.

While I was an executive at Macy's I had several male employees make vulgar or sexually driven comments to me.  Comments such as:
"You're prime meat for a man in his early 40's.  He'd be all over you"
"I bet you're the type of girl who would want big mirrors in the bedroom huh?"
"That shade of lipstick you're wearing is very sexy"
" You're a very attractive woman.  If I wasn't married I'd date you in a heartbeat"
I was an executive.  I was smart, young, driven.  I was successful and yet my worth was still boiled down by men to my appearance.

Lets not even get started at the things I've experienced with male patients at the hospital.
- telling me I look pretty good in my scrubs
- telling me to lean over a little further when I'm drawing their blood so they can see a little more
- a patient looking me dead in the eyes while he masturbates.  I was taking his blood pressure.

I get asked about my dating life a lot.  When I say I'm not dating or am turned off by dating I get asked why.  I'll let everyone know right now why.  You meet a guy.  They're not like regular guys they always say.  They're good guys.  They are respectful.
And then after a couple dates you get texts like
"So do you shave your pussy?"
"Trust me, you'd want me to go down on you"
When you tell them you're not interested or you don't appreciate being talked to that way the response is
"I knew you were just a stuck up bitch"
"You're not that hot.  You should feel lucky I'd offer"
"Just another Mormon prude huh?  I thought you were chill"

I've told these stories before and have been told by men and women that I should be flattered.  Flattered.  Sexual comments and advances that are not reciprocated or asked for is assault.  There is nothing flattering about assault.  And what's even crazier to me is that instances like this are considered normal.  Even if the comments aren't necessarily vulgar or sexually driven it is still universally accepted that women exist for the pleasure of men.  That if we aren't grateful for their attention or their advances, we are just stuck up bitches.
These are just a few of my personal stories.  I have many more and I know many of my friends and families have them as well.  And these are just stories of sexual assault....not even rape.  More of my female friends have been raped than not.  I have struggled to express why I am so passionate about this topic.  Why I have been so vocal about my disgust with Donald Trump.  My absolute horror that anyone could still support him and respect him as a human being let alone as President of the United States.  The fact that Donald Trump would play off his vulgar and disgraceful remarks as "locker room talk" and that they are "just words" and people ACCEPT that is the PROBLEM.  When someone says it's normal and ok for a man to talk about a woman's body as something they  have a right to.....that is rape culture.   Rape culture is real.  If you need further proof...look at the hashtag #notokay on Twitter.  Millions of women have spoken out about their own sexual assaults.  Kelly Oxford, the woman who started the hashtag, said that if you saw these tweets as a ticker on a news station you would think there was a war on women.  Because there is.  It is not made up.  It is real.  It is a problem.  And it has to change.  Boys need to be taught women are to be respected.  Girls need to be taught that it is ok if you are not flattered by male advances.
This was not meant to be a political statement.  Obviously this has been a huge topic because of a political figure and his comments however it is much much bigger than that.  I encourage you to take these things into consideration. I would encourage you to speak out against sexual assault.  Read through the hashtag on Twitter, read my friend Shaina's brave and personal account.
Let's change this.  Let's start by not perpetuating this false belief that this is normal talk for men.  It is not.  It is not ok.  Women deserve better and hell...men deserve better than this reputation that they are all some testosterone crazed sex animals.
We are humans and we all deserve respect as such.
The end.

Making Weak Things Strong

I haven't updated my blog for a long time.  I think it's because I was feeling like my blog had taken such a serious turn.  I used to post funny fashion blogs, TV reviews...etc.  But I think once you feel comfortable enough to share who you are and be vulnerable...you don't know how to do anything else.  Writing has always been an outlet for me.  I have an entire huge box of journals still packed away in a box in my parent's basement (NOT labeled journals so don't go looking for them Mom!)
I would write every single day.  Some are mundane...others are pages filled with injustices I felt I had experienced.  My preteen years were filled to the brim of injustices....obviously.  But writing helped me get all those feelings out.  So here I am again.  It kind of feels like visiting an old friend.  A friend who knows you completely and is willing to listen to everything you have to say without judgement.  So friend.....let's talk.
I feel like over the last couple of years I have completely transformed myself.  Physically, emotionally, spiritually.  I lost weight, I quit my job and started pursing nursing, I really rooted my testimony.  The last couple of months I have felt myself completely unravel.  There were a couple of experiences that started this feeling in motion.  It started to feel like a tiny ball of snow that started rolling down a hill and became a monstrous thing that I couldn't control.  Honesty?  Yes.  Let's go with honesty....
I lost control of my eating habits.  I felt myself gaining weight.  I could tell I was losing control of something I had been so proud of.   I didn't know how to get it back.
I shut myself out.  I stayed in my room for days alone.  I felt worthless.  I felt like there was no possible way anyone could love me or want to be around me.
I stopped reading my scriptures, saying my prayers, and going to church.
When I say I completely lost control....I meant it.
I have been, in a word, miserable.  But through the power of social media....I have been totally fine.  Bright, shiny, funny, full of life.  I've felt like I've been lying.  Almost like I had possessed the body of who I used to be so I was pretending to be that person but didn't actually know how.  All this was going on while I also watched friendships fall apart, came under a huge amount of financial stress, and had a couple of health issues.  Drowning.  Drowning is the only way I know how to describe it.
Tonight it all came to a head.   I knew I had to make a choice.  I knew I couldn't get anything back by continuing on the same road I had been on.  So I went back to the basics.  And I prayed.
Tonight was the first night I have understood the phrase "broken heart and a contrite spirit".  Every single part of my body inside and out have been hurting.  I apologized to my Heavenly Father for being so weak.  And the scripture came to mind...
"And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness.  I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them"
Ether 12:27
We are here to be tried and tested.  We are here for a purpose.  We are here to become strong.  There is nothing wrong with weakness.  Weakness and emptiness allows us the opportunity to become strong.  To be filled with the spirit and love of the Lord.  I came across this picture and it has brought me so much peace

In every single dark moment...there is light.  The light that comes only from our Heavenly Father who knows us perfectly and loves us perfectly. 

I still don't know exactly how to get back to who I used to be....but maybe I'm not supposed to.  Maybe I'm supposed to just keep going and changing and become someone else totally new. 

Someone who is maybe just a little stronger. 

To The Man Who Will Love Me Someday....

To the man who will love me someday,
I don't know who you are right now and that's ok.   I just wanted to give you some advice before you sign up for me.  We both know I'm pretty cool and that's probably why you like me.  However, there are some things you should know about me.  The times when I am a little less cool.
I will have rough days.  I don't know if you've ever lived with someone who suffers from anxiety.  I don't know if you've ever had to come home and comfort a person you love from an invisible monster that lives inside them.  If anxiety were a visible illness, you could see the scars from the battles I fight on a daily basis and the bruises from when my anxiety is beating me up inside.  You can't though.  You just have to trust I'm fighting every day to be the best version of myself for me and for you.
If I'm really honest with myself, I'm not even sure you exist.  I'm not sure there is such a person who would be willing to sign up for the mess I can be sometimes.  The thought of that type of relationship is exciting but also terrifying.  My fear is that everything that comes with the human being that is me is going to drive you away someday.  That even if I do ever meet you, that you won't stay around for very long.  I can't control it.  And that scares me too.  I understand most of the time it's the anxiety being fearful, telling me I'm not worthy of the love of someone.  I know anxiety is a liar.  I am worth being loved.  In fact, the blessing and curse of being able to feel things so incredibly deeply means that I will love you deeply.  My passion, compassion, and empathy will make me a great partner and great mom to the kids we may have someday.  I just need to be reminded of that on the days when I'm overcome by the anxiety.
I'm sorry that sometimes I will lack the ability to use my words.  I will wish I could explain to you why I'm feeling the way I'm feeling and what drives me into feeling that way.  Nine times out of 10 I can't pin down the reason.  Sometimes all I can do to help is share articles written by others who have gone through the same thing.
One last thing...I know this will affect you.  I know you'll want to help but you might not be able to.  I know it can be frustrating.  A lot of times my anxiety can come across as needy, pushy, obsessive.  Please take the extra time to understand why I'm acting that way and know me well enough to know I would never do any of that intentionally.  Many of the things I say and do should be attached with the hashtag "anxiety".  Laugh with me on the good days, let me cry on the bad ones.  I have other things about me that you'll also inevitably find annoying - the loud volume and voice I use to listen to rap music, my loud laugh ,the times I may take too much Benadryl and get a little weird...
as long as the anxiety doesn't make you run away, we can work through the rest of the things too.
xoxo
Ness

Guy-free Week

This post has been a long time coming.  Mostly because nursing school sucks the life out of you and when you have free time (which you get maybe 25 minutes of every 2 weeks) all you want to do is sleep.  That being said....I have something important that I want to talk about.  Guys, boys, dudes, bros, men, males.  

All of the above.  More specifically, women's relationships with them.

Being 29 and and unmarried and being surrounded by women who are close to my same age and also unmarried, dating is a huge topic of discussion.  Dates we're going on, guys we want to date, past relationships, possible future relationships, etc.  It dominates conversations.  I don't think there's anything wrong with talking about dating.  It's fun and trust me...we've had more than a few laughs at some unfortunate situations we've been put in as well as some of the unfortunate men we've invited into our lives.  A few weeks ago I was feeling very introspective.  I get that way sometimes when I'm feeling particularly anxious.  I kind of take inventory of what is going on and what could be contributing to some of the anxiety.  I realized that I put a lot of pressure on myself to be dating.  To be honest I am not really dating at all.  I like to say it's because I'm so busy and focused on school work but full disclosure, I am also not being asked on dates.  I don't say that to make myself seem sad or pitiful.  I really am ok because I am incredibly focused on school and work and I have a great group of close friends who I completely adore.  But sometimes, when I'm feeling particularly vulnerable, I start to blame myself for not being asked on dates.  And it's always the same reason: I'm just not enough.  Enough being whatever I'm feeling insecure about that day: pretty enough, smart enough, skinny enough, entertaining enough, fun enough, mature enough, adventurous enough...you get the picture.

So I thought to myself....how can I take some pressure off and let some of this go?  So I initiated "guy free week".  Guy free week had a few rules- the first rule of guy free week is you don't talk about guy free week (ha ha I'm hilarious).

The real rules of guy free week included:

- No talking about dating

- You could text guys but you could not hang out with them

- No talking about guys or venting about anything frustrating they were doing or not doing

For a week.  Sounds easy right? We are all strong independent women.  We have hopes and dreams and aspirations.  Career goals.  Big personalities.  We had other things to talk about! Well...it was easier for some than for others (I won't name names...) and there's nothing wrong with that... but the results for me were incredible.  I was way more focused and driven than I've been in a long time.  I felt less stressed.  I felt physically lighter and like I was enjoying every day of my life more.  Now I can't really say that having guy free week was the only reason.  Maybe I was getting more sleep or maybe I was just feeling more confident- but I do know that I realized that I was being much more affected by the dating obsession than I thought I was.  Which lead me to do some thinking....

We as women have been ingrained with the idea that we live for the attention of men, from a very early age.  So many of the movies I grew up watching centered around the plot line that a woman had to change herself in order to catch that special guys eye.  Magazine covers STILL entice with promises of giving you "13 Amazing Tips to Make Him Want You".  They usually involve flirting demurely, how to dress to slim your body, and wear enough make up to be alluring but not too obvious (guys don't like a lot of make up you know).  I've heard things from people around me: don't cut your hair because guys like long hair, guys like a good butt so make sure to do your squats, wearing high heels will make you more feminine and attractive to men.  Be spontaneous - guys want a girl who will go on adventures with them, but also show that you're reliable because men want a steady woman at home to raise the children.  Be funny, but don't act like the center of attention because men don't want to be with a show off.  Eat hamburgers and pizza because guys like a girl who can eat, but not too much because then you'll seem like a slob.  I know this may seem dramatic to some but it's the reality of the world we live in.  Yes, it's getting better.  Women are being more empowered to be who they are and to not live for the attention of men, but sometimes I feel like it's still this looming expectation (especially in the place I live...). 

I just hope that every woman in my life will understand their real worth.  That they will understand that the attention of men is not defining.  Yes, it's nice.  Don't get me wrong, there is something really nice about having that guy in your life that is different than your other relationships.  But I hope that none of the people I love ever feel like if they don't have that - they are lacking something, or that they need it to function. Find out who you are without it.  Explore by yourself, go on trips, discover a new hobby or talent. Do you!
 I am so proud of the strong women in my life and for the support I've received from others.  My mom (God bless that woman) even said to me the other day "I'm glad you aren't dating.  You are doing more with your life and have more to focus on right now.  I want all your focus to be on school" and my heart burst with gratitude.  My parents have never put pressure on me to date.  For a long time I thought that my parents also didn't think I was pretty enough to be dating (I know guys....I'm  in therapy for a reason)  but hearing them tell me that I am more than dating was relieving.  Dating is fun.  I love dating!  I just don't ever want dating or not dating to define me.  And I hope it won't define any other woman either.  

Also I highly suggest guy free week.  You might be surprised by the results.  

However if this guy ever shows up......

immediately end guy free week.  That is a command.  

xoxo

V

2016 Resolutions

Here we are again.  As we've done in years previous....let's do a quick recap of the last couple of years resolutions....

I started off strong in 2014

And last year was pretty good...and I feel good about how much I accomplished in 2015.

So here's the reveal of my 2016 resolutions (because I know you've been dying to know).

Last year I learned a lot about myself and I grew a lot.  In 2016 the focus is going to be enjoying things more.  Last year all the changes and hard times were really stressful and I think I forgot to enjoy the beauty of life.  So that's what I plan to do more in 2016.  Keep working on myself and enjoy it!

Happy New Year everyone!!!

P.S. A resolution of mine is always to get through the entire movie "The Dark Crystal" which I've never done because it scares me.  I tried this year.  I got 15 minutes in.  There's always 2017.

Also you can check out previous New Year resolutions HERE