White Robe Vision Anniversary

It's crazy to think that I'm at my one-year anniversary after my White Robe Vision.

For those who don't know what that means... A year ago I was in church singing along to the worship band. I had been struggling with anger, and depression, and aloneness, and everything that you can imagine someone would struggle with after mounds and mounds of trauma. To say that I was in a dark, scary place would be the understatement of a lifetime. I was singing, pleading with the L-rd for a miracle and for forgiveness when I had this image, a vision.

It was me in the fetal position, dressed in sackcloth with ashes and dirt covering me. I was sobbing. My view was as if I was standing watching myself in this dark but not scary space, but I also knew what it was like as the me that was on the floor sobbing. I don't know how I could be both, but I was.

Anyway, Yeshua (Jesus) walked over and helped me up. He handed me a pile of white clothes, a white robe. Instantly, I was dressed in white, holding His hand, and clean from head to toe. I knew in that moment that I was clean, forgiven, redeemed, and precious to the only One that truly matters. The weight that was literally suffocating me was lifted. I felt the physical sensation of being lighter and of being able to breathe. Tears, happy tears, were falling from my eyes and I was at peace for the first time in YEARS.

The high of this vision fueled my healing in counseling, my passion in bible study, and my joy in life. Since I was feeling better, much much better, I started EMDR. I don't know if I just got to the point in my "healing" where my brain started to process the anger and grief, or if it was because I was processing things in EMDR and therapy, but my joy was replaced by anger. Pure rage and grief and the darkest depression I have experienced in such a long time.

Not only was I battling the memories and nightmares that has stopped a short few months before, but I was suddenly from the highest high down in the my darkest pits. Even darker than I had just gotten out of! Suddenly the urges to start smoking again came back. The desire the slice my skin and jump on Tinder resurfaced. My prayers to not wake up in the morning or for me to die in some quick fashion started pouring from my heart again. My pleas for this life to be over or for me to wake up from this nightmare were back. The enormity of the betrayal I faced from ex-best friend hit me full-force. The horrors I survived and lived through hit me like a ton of bricks. My actions, reasons, and reactions all flooded into my memory boggling my mind with the crap that I've been through. Realizations of what my childhood was like, things I had forgotten were dredged up. Past hurts and scars and darkness all covered me at once. Crashing over me like tsunami-sized waves.

Now, after nearly 8 months, these waves are still skyscraper high, but I've sunk to the bottom of the ocean floor where the waves can't effect me so much because my brain has gone blank. I have a vague recollection that bad things have happened. A small understanding that I am hurt and have been damaged mocks me in the early hours when I wake up, or in the moments before I fall asleep. My heart squeezes and heat rises as my brain recalls the nightmares that I just had throughout my sleep were real events that happened. Anger overwhelms me and forces me from bed to try to go find some mind-numbing entertainment from the boob-tube.

I want to believe G-d has good in store. My heart craves the day when my life is redeemed and I maybe see some fruit that the sh!t that I *unfortunately* survived is going to be worth something to someone. Surely there is a reason behind the suffering. Surely there is a way that this can be helpful for something. Surely my life, my experiences, my pain and sorrow will not be a waste!

It's crazy to think that a year ago would start the roller-coaster that has been this past year. To go from so passionate and on fire for the L-rd, to questioning His beneficence towards me. Hope was replaced with rage and ecstatic joy was replaced with soul wrenching despair. My new found zest for life was, again, brought into the deepest of me begging for my life to end.

I'd like to say that my life is back to me being excited and on fire for the L-rd. I wish I could tell you all that life got back to smooth sailing, that I am happy and excited again and that I finished out the year with minimal lasting pain. Well, I could, but that would be a lie. Just when I started to think I was on the mend, my story would be used for goodness and I might be needed in this world after-all, I was knocked down again. Knocked down by someone who was supposed to be a mentor, a leader, a helper in the faith. At that point, the hits kept coming from every side. I confided in her about some recent family wounds and that was used against me, as ammo for the attacks. Ex-best friend joined in the attacks, people from work, patients, family, and anyone else that was in close proximity to me. They ganged up, at the enemies command, and I was bombarded by the tsunami waves that I thought I was avoiding by remaining on the ocean floor. There's no escape though.

Here, looking back on my year, I'm proud of myself for not falling back into self harm, not succumbing to the craving for a cigarette, and for not putting myself back onto Tinder. I fought like hell to still show up, to try to be as present as possible, and to put myself out there for others. I'm working harder than ever to find some good, some purpose, and some meaning in my suffering and loneliness. I am searching for hope and belonging somewhere. But I don't belong here. I don't belong on this earth. I will forever be a stranger, a loner, wandering along on this blue rotating rock. This is not my home. This is not where I will make sense. This is not where the answers will be found, where I am redeemed, or where my purpose lies.

My heart is so tired. My soul is weary. I don't know how much longer I can hold out here.

My anniversary of one of the most powerful gifts the L-rd has every given me is marked by a season of such despair and difficulty that I'm sent back into the pits of existence when I desperately desire to no longer exist. How can this be? It doesn't make sense!

Didn't think it could get any worse... And then IT DID!

Oh. My. Goodness. *breathe* My past few weeks have been awful.

Last week was my first week off of L&D orientation. Sucked! Day 1, thought I was doing okay. Can't remember exactly what happened, but it wasn't terrible. Day 2, I had 2 labor patients, not good, but I handled it. Day 3, I came back, and found out that 1 of my patients that I thought was a 4, was actually not even 1 c.m. dilated and my other lady who was a 4 turned out to be a C section for being breech.

*breathe*

I turned in my application for a Nurse Midwifery program here in-state. 3-4 days after the deadline, I got an email saying that my application would not be turned in because I was missing transcripts for my transferred credit. I probably wasted $70 on the application, and it'll never even get in front of the admission board for them to decide whether they like me or not.

*just try to breathe*

Then I go to NICU and can't seem to do anything right when I'm there, so day shift is always yelling at me because they do things differently, but I was just following what the previous day shifter told me to do.

*frickin' breathe*

Yesterday I slept through my alarm and my poor counselor texted me 20 minutes into when I was supposed to be there and I didn't call back until 20 minutes after that! Oh my gosh, I feel just so awful. She's so sweet and understanding, but I hate hate hate wasting people's time and it's the holidays. I'm sure she could have been with her family or at home or doing anything else except for waiting for ridiculous me who couldn't even wake up for my 2 alarms.

*just fuckin' take a breath*

Last night, after missing my much needed counseling appointment, I kept tearing up in the middle of feeds. My babies were being difficult (I know, it's not their fault, they're learning how to be alive and eat and manage both at the same time. Lots of work and coordination! Plus parents yell at me on the regular here because of the way the doctors/practitioners change the plan of care all the time.) Regardless, babies can be frustrating and NICU work can be very stressful, even when you only have "feeder growers" because they don't want to feed and growing is even optional. So, between not feeling okay in my NICU knowledge at this hospital, not feeling at all okay in L&D, missing my appointment, being a general thorn in everyone's side, and the myriad of other reasons why I suck as a person... I just couldn't seem to get it together.

Fast forward to 2 hours before my shift was supposed to be up and: my rooming in mom hadn't woken up and she was 30-45 minutes late with her feed, one kid was taking for-frickin-ever to bottle feed and then threw up all over my lap, and my last kid was over in his bed screaming his head off in his inconsolable state.

Maybe I need to just quit breathing at this point and all of the frustrations of life would fade away...

I don't want to be a thorn in anyone's side. Yet, I find myself in a season of being a thorn in EVERYONE'S side, even my poor counselor!



I got to thinking and it's worth note that I cannot plan a wedding. Pinterest has all sorts of cute wedding things, and one of my counseling homework assignments was to make a wedding board on Pinterest of the things I would like to have at my wedding. I don't know what I want for a wedding. I'm not particularly emotionally invested in anything with that. I do, however, have my funeral planned out to a "t". I've had my funeral planned since I was 10 or 12. I know that I was a simple casket, to be buried in gray because I don't feel worthy of being buried in white. I know that I want to be buried in the most simple casket anyone can build, under a weaping willow or some type of large tree. I don't want people dressed up and the reception should be a simple bonfire, with music, and beers. If anyone goes, it would be nice for them to share stories, but having people there doesn't seem realistic, let alone getting anyone to tell stories or even know that I died or to care that I passed. I know that, at 23, I have been a DNR for years.

Last night, I found myself in a position of longing that G-d would let me be done with life. I haven't been here in a long time. Chalk it up to being tired, stressed with so much newness with working L&D, or blame it on me not being able to make it in life without the wonderful support of a counselor because I'm just too weak; but this is not a good place to be. I don't like wanting to be gone and yet being stuck on this earth, in this body, with this life. I can't imaging a bright future. I don't know what it will look like. Not even one little bit.

Will I go on to get my Master's? Doctorate? PhD?
Will I have a husband or family? Will I die alone?
Will I be happy? Or forever chasing happiness, but never able to reach it?

I have no clue what is going to happen. I pray that there are more good things than bad to await me in the future, but I feel like I'm 89 and looking back on my life where I have a hard time understanding my purpose on this earth.



You know when circumstances get so bad that all you can do is either laugh or cry? What does it mean when you do both? But the crying isn't from laughing too hard, it's all from just being utterly overwhelmed with life.

New Name

I have been struggling with life. You guys know that... You read all of my mind's workings and tribulations. You sneak peaks into the difficulties I, unfortunately, continue to survive...

Well, this blog has gone from being about nursing school and nursing life, to one about my general life.

As such, and seeing as I don't deal with bedpans so much anymore, I have decided to rename the blog. I will now be Beauty from Ashes. [still BA, so that helps ;)]

Until next time, ladies and gents... I'll be online shopping for the foreseeable future.



***P.S.
I have attempted to change my address, but it seems to have already been taken and then also requested by another family. Long story, my address will continue to be bedpanalley.blogspot.com

Love,
BA

Bain of My Existence

I know it's stupid, but I despise weddings. Always have. I'll attend all of the funerals I'm invited to, or hear about, but weddings get automatic excuses and declines from me. I hate weddings.

With that said, Beauty from nursing school got engaged right before our pinning ceremony. It took them a long time, but her wedding was finally planned for the end of October (2017) and I just so happened to get invited... I straight up told her I probably wouldn't go. I have told her that since I've known her, so it's not like it was even a surprise. Still, she kept begging me to go.

I still regret going.

All through the ceremony I was holding back tears. The tears weren't because the wedding was beautiful, or because the bride and a billion other people were crying, or because of allergies. I was holding back tears thinking of my certainty that a wedding will not happen for me.

There is such a certainty and gravity to this understanding in my heart, I've had it since I was a little girl. I did not go to the father daughter dances. My dad and I spent time at his shop, where I kept busy with "girlier" things and dad taught Brother how to fix cars/trucks/everything under the sun.

Dad has social anxiety and probably a few other hinderances, which I don't blame him for, but they lead to an "un-normal" life for me. While my dad has always lived with my family, there is not much participation on his part. He didn't go to church, except maybe 3-5 times my whole childhood. We never expected to go to a restaurant for birthdays or special occasions because they made dad nervous and so the whole family would be stressed and not have fun. We stopped asking for participation from him, and didn't invite people over to the house, because we didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

So, from the time I was very young, maybe kindergarden or earlier, I've known that we just don't ask dad to do things that involve lots of people. Understanding that weddings involve lots of spotlight, lots of people, and a father-daughter dance, obviously this is not something that sounds plausible in my future...

As I sat in my counselor's office, sobbing uncontrollably (for other reasons that I'll explain later), I explained why I don't believe I will/can get married. I've blamed it on being undesirable, blemished from trauma, making new mistakes (again, I'll get to this), and a myriad of other reasons I've collected over the years. And I explained the wedding thing. I sat there and told her between, "I know it's stupid, and it's probably just jealousy, but I hate weddings."

I didn't look up, but I could feel the gentleness in her voice. "I don't hear jealousy in any of this. What I hear is a lot of hurt."

Now, this whole conversation started because she asked how the wedding went. This explaination of me keeping my eyes from leaking during the service previewed the terrible news that Best Friend and I went too far that night after the reception.

He and his roommate were invited because Beauty was Best Friend's neighbor in the dorms freshman year of college, and he's actually how I ended up meeting Beauty. We've all stayed in touch over the years, and Beauty just wants to have fun, so she invited tons of people to the wedding reception.

Now, I did drink that night, but not enough to black out. I was with it and remained free from stumbles or being too drunk. I couldn't have driven home, but if I had been given water and an hour, I could have driven home no problem.

"Why, then, did I wake up and not be able to remember anything?" I asked my counselor, in much different words.

After rehashing some of the events, I realized that Best Friend had started kissing me once I was back to his house after the reception. Many problems with that statement... 1) his roommate was supposed to drop me off at my house, but Best Friend had talked him into taking me back to their place because BF wanted to see if I would kiss him (after me telling him no ALL FUCKING NIGHT.) 2) I was not privy to this decision and never consulted to see what I wanted to do.

So, back at BF's house, I laid on the couch, nearly falling asleep. At some point, he came over and started to kiss me. About 2-3 weeks ago, I put an end to us kissing. I told him I was not ready for a relationship and that I needed us to go back to just being friends. Obviously that worked really fucking well because he definitely got the message loud and clear after me telling him this about 29474957 over the course of our "friendship". (That was all solid sarcasm.) I shouldn't have had to tell him that many times and he never should have tried to kiss me after me telling him no so many times in one night and over the past several weeks/years. Maybe I need to work on being meaner.

So, we ended up kissing, and he picked me up from the couch and carried me to his bed. Now, he had done this before, I told him a few times that I don't lay in boy's beds and he knows my stories of abuse. He told me he understands, and yet it happened a couple times. Chalk it up to me being naive and believing people when I shouldn't. Man, I'm an idiot.

He kissed down my stomach, which he's done before because he thinks it's funny when I push his face away and yell at him for doing that. Except, this time he was drunk and ended up touching me where he shouldn't. It was at this point, the the rest of my memories are non-existent or 1-2 seconds long. I remember hyperventilating, shoving his hand away, and crying for about 20-30 minutes. He freaked out and went to the far edge of his bed as I laid in the fetal position sobbing. He asked what he could do and what happened and I couldn't talk. I just turned away and cried. He tried to hug me and I pushed away. Finally, after 20-30 minutes, I settled enough for him to ask me what I wanted to do. I told him I wanted to go watch t.v. and sleep. We went back out to the couch and I laid down under the blanket. I don't remember much more of the night.

I do know, however, that in the morning, I knew that we had slept together. I don't know how it started, I don't think that he raped me, but my counselor says that I dissociated because of the first incident of him touching me. This whole story came out in the first 7 minutes of me sitting down in her office and she uncovered the story via questions answered by my 1-2 syllable answers or shaking/nodding my head. I have so much shame, and disgust, and despair over this stupid night.
She tells me it's not my fault because my body was just protecting me the only way it has learned how to over the course of my abuse.

Still, I can't help but wonder how I will ever explain this act of indiscretion to someone, if a guy ever decided that he wanted to date me seriously.  I had just gotten to the point where I could think about dating after 2 years of being free from exboyfriend and exfiance. After this, where it was kind of my choice, I don't know how I will recover and survive, let alone try to date and explain this to someone.

My counselor had me think about what I would tell someone else, if I were in the outside shoes and my friend were telling me their life story that was like mine. Of course I would tell that person that it wasn't their fault, that BF had taken them (me) to the police station to report the other 2 dip-shits and he should have known after the way I freaked out that I needed to not be touched. Still, I don't understand how this all happened.

I praise the L-rd for my counselor, because she spoke such healing and comfort into my life. But I still struggle with the knowledge and memories I have.

This wasn't supposed to be my life!

My counselor says that G-d was still with me through it all. But why couldn't He keep me with it enough to be able to stop it so that I didn't sin? Why wouldn't he prevent the whole mess from coming up? Why would He not just let me get dropped off at my house like I was supposed to so that I could go to sleep? Why was it that I have to be allowed to be in a position to have 1 case of trauma, let alone the whole shit-show that was my life in 2015? Then, on top of all of that, He allows this to happen because my brain automatically dissociated?!? Where was He in all of that mess? Was he standing there watching? Was He sad? Why didn't He step in? Why did He let me go through this? Why is this supposed to be stuff that I  have to struggle through? What did I do but try to follow His Word and be kind and gracious? I know I make mistakes, but why this?

I keep thinking that I'll wake up and realize the past few years, and all of these mistakes and memories are just a bad nightmare. But I keep waking up and I'm forced to survive another painful day. As soon as life starts to get tolerable again, another traumatic thing happens and I have to figure out how to try to survive past that. It's not fair. Not even a little fair.

I don't understand how some people go their whole lives and never experience trauma, and some people have shit dumped on them their whole lives. I don't understand it at all!!! How do I get off this shit-list?

Yesterday, I had another talk with Best Friend. Instead of gently suggesting that we take time so that I can have some space. I flat out told him that I need to not talk to him for weeks. He kept sending me relationship snapchats this past week, after that night. Even after a 3 hour drive where I spilled my heart out to him about how badly it hurt me and how much I hated that we slept together. He has apologized profusely for the night, but he hasn't gotten the gravity of the situation because sex is a big deal to him, but it's not a part of his faith and not a part of any abuse that he has sustained. People just don't get it. Sex is not fun for me. It's been nothing but trauma. There is a very real chance that it will never be a healthy part of my life because of the continued abuse that I have sustained. For him, it was something "special" to share with someone he "liked" or maybe thinks he "loved". For me, it was a huge set-back in my 2 year recovery and now another shameful part of my past I will have to explain.

I told BF that him sending the relationship crap "hurt my heart" and that I didn't want to see it. I told him that about 17 times. He would apologize, but continue to send another "cute" one that he found later. He just doesn't get it. If he got it, then we wouldn't be in this fucking situation to begin with because he would have fucking stopped when I freaked out and I probably wouldn't have freaked out because he wouldn't have touched me that way in the first damn place!

I wasn't angry at him until yesterday and today. At counseling, my counselor told me it was okay for me to be angry with him. At that point, I was still fully angry at only myself. Now I'm just pissed.

I was so pissed on Friday (Thursday was counseling), that I finally scheduled my appointment to go see the nurse practitioner. I'm scared that the tests will find something. I'm terrified. However, I'm so sick of being scared and not knowing. So, I'm having the results sealed in an envelope, and my counselor agreed that I could read them at my appointment with her.

Guys, please pray that my body if free of disease from the first 2 assholes, and also from Best Friend. I hate that I have to worry about this. I hate that I had to take yet another Plan B pill. I hate my life and the fact that I keep having to fucking survive another day, every day.

I'm so over it all. I just want to be done.

Hauntingly Familiar

As you might well know, from my many posts, I have moved back to the city I lived in during college (a.k.a. College Town, as named for my blog).

This also just so happens to be the city in which I lived through the worst year of my life, 2015.

2015 was a terrible year, filled with 2 relationships that were exceedingly toxic and abusive. I was sexually assaulted/raped, mentally imprisoned, physically abused, and otherwise harmed in most ways possible. Through these occurrences, I developed terrible depression, complex PTSD (which was made worse by my friend's suicide the year prior), and I participated in smoking and self-harm as ways of attempting to cope.



Often, in my experiences as a nurse, and general experiences as a human, I have been slapped in the face with comments, made by unknowing people.

Usually these include jokes about suicide or self-harm. Other times they are people lying about sexual assault and rape in order to remain out of trouble or to get attention. And still, there are instances that fall in and out of that range.



Recently, my ability to cope was tested as someone mentioned to me that "they don't believe most rape victims have actually been raped. Most of the time these girls didn't say 'no' strongly enough or contributed to the drinking and merely had sex that they regretted in the morning."

*deep breath*

For those of you who don't know my full story, just know that these are two very triggering statements for me 1) that the 'no' was not forceful enough and 2) that because the girl was drunk, it is automatically her fault because she was drinking.

Let me preface this by saying that sometimes people lie. Maybe someone is lying about having sex and regretting it in the morning and they feel that claiming it as "rape" is going to lessen their guilt or somehow get them sympathy. Let me also say that I have a tendency to believe people if they claim they have been assaulted, because if it's false then it'll eat away at them as they meet true victims. If it doesn't, then hey, not my problem. I would rather believe people and treat them with extra gentleness, than to assume that everyone is lying.



With that being said, the details of my story often keep me up at night. I have worked for years at grounding techniques and trying to remember all of the events that I unfortunately survived over the course of living through the hell I experienced in 2015.



My attackers were boyfriends. With 1, I question whether my "no" was strong enough, because I froze. I told him "no" about 50 times, maybe more. However, my body was frozen apart from moving his hands away and trying to keep myself safe. There are about 15-20 minutes that I cannot account for because my brain shut off and I had a sort of "flashback" but I didn't go into the past, I just went somewhere else in my brain. I remember my thoughts through that unaccounted time, but I cannot remember reality.

I struggle with knowing I could have done something, but I couldn't, all at the same time. Especially after taking self-defense, I know that my desires to kick him in the face and run, were absolutely acceptable and encouraged behaviors because of what he was doing. But I didn't do it, because I couldn't grasp the gravity of the situation in that particular moment.

My second boyfriend (of about 2.5 months at the time) knowingly got me drunk and likely drugged me. We had been planning to go out dancing and drinking. Like a fool, I told him my limit was 3 drinks, and asked him to hold my drink when I went out to dance. It was a night where we were given 2 free shots of various whiskey to encourage people to buy these brands. This, along with him getting me refill after refill (without my knowledge) and then encouraging me to chug, ended up causing me to drink too much. He knew I trusted him, and he knew I wasn't able to keep track of him being gone when I was dancing with my friends. He had been charming and fun for the few months we were together, until that night. The next memory I have was waking up next to him, naked, in a hotel room. I didn't know where I was, what had happened, or how to get home.

This is a struggle for me because I was counting my own drinks. I know to not drink too much. I know when to cut myself off. I trusted him. He claimed he wanted to help me after having been hurt by my first boyfriend. He claimed to have "over-the-moon" feelings for me. He claimed to want to marry me... after only a couple months of dating. We had had our fights, but he typically ended up working out a decent deal to "compromise" with me. After that night, he fought with me on religion, virginity, giving my body to him (he even claimed scripture for this, even though he is not a believer), and he fought me on everything.



With the two comments made about rape/sexual assault victims in relation to lying, saying "no", and drinking, I am at a war. I war within myself nearly every day whether I was truly abused the way I have had to convince myself I was, or if I'm making these things up and merely regret having sex with guys I hadn't even planned to kiss. Which, is a form of assault in it's own right, technically. But those are stories for another day.





And so, I lost hours of precious sleep, that I already don't get enough of, battling in my own head over words spoken out of unknowing. In the conversation, in which those comments were made, the person I spoke with prefaced the conversation saying they "had not had anyone in their family raped" and that these were just their findings in their limited control group of people who had claimed to have been assaulted/raped (a group of maybe 2 people). So, at least they acknowledged that. But it still stings.

It stings to not even believe my own memory, because of somebody's opinion about something that has never personally effected them or someone they love and know dearly. It stings to have to battle in my own head and lose sleep over such small comments. It stings to not be able to easily discern reality from nightmares, because your life is worse than your worst nightmare.

Grounding is exhausting in these situations and for someone who has been working 6 days a week, between 2 new jobs and learning all of the "new", it is especially difficult to bring myself back to the facts. To prove to myself that the labels of "rape" and "abuse" given by my counselor truly fit the relationships I had. Then, for days, my brain is recounting and dredging up all of the examples it can muster, and even some I had forgotten, in order to prove to me that I am not "crazy" for believing in my traumatic past.

And so the past haunts the present. It lurks in the corner of every new adventure. It tests out every new friendship, and holds it to standards that are unbeknownst to me. All I get are the results of the test: don't trust anyone and keep it to myself.



I don't talk about my past anymore. The more new people I meet, and the more I go on with life, the fewer people I tell. I told nobody in Small Town, and I don't plan on telling anyone here. The only people that will know, already know, and those were even probably not great choices. Thing is, it's not fair to keep it to yourself and it's not healthy. Counselors can't be the only people to ever know things like this, but I can't go around telling every random person I befriend about my traumatic past either.

The "discussions" started, the fights I wage, and the debate about what constitutes rape and abuse are conversations I simply try to avoid. Changing the subject or nodding along and zoning out seem to work the best for me. However, it seems that's all I do anymore...

And so it goes. I bandage those hurt feelings and move on. I don't blame the lips that spill the words. I don't abandon the people who think that way to begin with. All I can do is hope to recover from my many returns to the deep pits, and keep on pushing along.

Maybe one day things will get better.

Trigger Happy

Today was a rough day. Work was not bad, I had a nice preceptor. I learned a lot, and orientation is going well, considering it was only my 3rd day. However, I swear that every trigger I have was hit today.

Dealt with domestic violence reports all morning. Talked about the local domestic violence safe house/counseling program that I was able to go to for counseling. That discussion took me by surprise. I didn't tell anyone that's where I went, but first thing we did in the morning was order a consult so that one of our mom's could be referred to that program. Knife to the heart.

Dirty jokes at the nurse's station almost had me in tears. Deep breaths as I suffocate in the wide open.

We had a baby born from a sexual assault. Another jab.

My friend's nephew died by suicide today because he couldn't handle life after his dad had passed away a few months ago. Flashback to Country Boy, and my heart nearly stopped.

First thing that came on t.v. was a show about a girl who was being abused by her boyfriend, and it almost sounded just like my story with ex-fiance. What are you doing to me L-rd???

I change the channel to find something a little less triggering and one of ex-boyfriend's favorite movies comes on. Just let it be done, let me escape this life.



From the people, to the smells, to the sounds and songs, to the jokes, and everything else that happened today; I was bombarded with triggers. I excused myself during some of the conversations to go get my aromatherapy, but it wasn't the one that is strong enough to get me out of my flashbacks. I don't know if I will be able to work postpartum if this is going to keep up.

A couple days ago I had a drink with a friend and learned that ex-fiance (who told me he was moving to another state "because I called the cops")is actually still here. I haven't even started the other job where ex-boyfriend has family working, who know me and probably despise me now. That probably won't be a good situation if they are still working there.

I don't know what I was thinking!!! How am I supposed to be able to survive living here, with all of my past a part of my every day journey to the bottom of a deep chasm that I had climbed out of when I moved to Small Town last year.

Survival was barely feasible there, 8 hours away from this place. What on earth would make me believe I could survive by facing my dark past at every turn of every day?

Mass Migration

Maybe it's just summer coming to a close and people are trying to move, in between school years and vacations. Maybe it's just because I perceive things that aren't actually there. Who knows? But it seems as though there is a mass migration of people to Home State. Everybody is snatching up all of the houses for rent in Home Town and College Town and I have no hope. I have been house hunting for over 2 months and cannot pin down a blessed place!!!

Best Friend has been going back and forth between wanting to live with me, and deciding that's a bad idea since I told him I might be moving back here. Once I finally started applying to jobs here, he suggested we go ahead and live together. Once I got the job, however, he told me he couldn't live with me because he didn't want to "fall in love with me". So I got frustrated with the fact that I had a housing situation partially set up, then he bailed.

I have been actively online and physically searching for a house since I got back to Home State. I set up my budget and got everything lined out to try to afford the inflated prices of this terrible town by myself.

Sunday night Best Friend texted me saying he decided he wanted to live with me after all. He told me to cancel all of the meetings I had to see other housing arrangements so that we could go see houses together. I told him I would not cancel those meetings because I had been working for months to secure any kind of a house visitation that didn't get rented before I even showed up the next day. He started searching for houses and it became apparent, really quickly, that we needed: opposite sides of town, different needs for our dogs, and had vastly different budgets. I kept poking holes in the houses he sent me, because they would not work. He kept sending me houses that I knew had already been rented because I had seen them weeks ago and called on them already. He didn't believe me, called them, and got angry when the house manager confirmed that those houses had already been rented. I don't know why he wouldn't believe me on these things, but he didn't. We looked for houses online for about 3 days, I called most of them because he was at work, and at the end of the 3 days I was so frustrated and upset that I finally called the whole thing off.

However, I had already cancelled one of my meetings to rent a room from a friend who bought a house last summer. I texted that friend and told him I was thinking of trying to find a place with a friend so as not to put him out. He told me it wouldn't be a bother, and he wished me well anyway. He and I have planned to hang out at some point this week, after my orientation days, so I'm sure he will ask about my housing situation then and I can bring it up again. I don't know how that will go though.

All I need is a room to rent so I can sleep!!! I won't hardly ever be there because I'm going to be working 6 days a week!!!

I've prayed and asked the L-rd for help, knowing that He doesn't make a major move until last minute. I don't appreciate the last minute move, but I've seen Him work enough miracles, and test my faith enough that I can suspect this may be what He's doing again. The struggle it is to be me with my faith being tested on a daily basis!!!

I'm glad I stayed true to my boundaries with Best Friend though.

Guys, I need a house for my dog and I!!! I need for everyone in the world to not be moving here and driving prices up while taking all of our jobs and houses!!! I need just a little peace in this whole whirlwind of a seemingly foolish choice. G-d wouldn't have made the move so easy, and allowed me to get 2 part-time jobs so easily without it being His will, would He? When I'm working against G-d there is normally impossible hurdles to overcome and many obstacles to let me know it is not His will. Getting here, being let out of my lease, quitting my job; all of those came easily. Obtaining 2 new jobs with kind managers that allow me to work both places happened easily too. Why can I not find a house? A simple place to sleep for my dog and I? Somewhere where I won't have to drive 2 hours in traffic to get to work and get home from work.

Folks, that's right, I am now driving 2 hours, IN TRAFFIC, to get to work and home from work. I can't be doing that when I begin the full-time floor orientation hours! I don't get enough sleep after a 12 hour shift as it is, no way I could manage working 6 twelve's and still manage to drive 4 hours every day in RUSH HOUR traffic!!!!!

What was I thinking to move back here? I'm such a fool. How is it that G-d is going to use this for His good? How is it that this is just a faith test and everything will work out soon. Will it work out soon?

I miss my friends. I miss my dog (who's staying at my mom's friend's house). I miss my babies and watching them grow up. I miss Small Town, and the small life I built there.

Just as I miss so many things, I don't miss many others; the workplace bullying, constant stress at work from coworkers and lack of management of our unit, the stress of having doctors yell at us constantly, worrying about being 8 hours away from my family all the time, Mema being upset with me all the time and going through her bipolar emotional waves, not being able to see my mom, frustrated with the lack of support and technology at work to help me take care of my babies. Some of these problems will be present wherever I go, but many of them are never as bad as they were in Small Town because Small Town people have never experienced anything other than nurses eating their young, emotional blowouts and yelling matches on the unit where people are expected to deal with it or literally move units, and various other unacceptable things that are not allowed in bigger town hospitals. I'm excited to see what it's like working in the hospitals I did my clinicals at, to see how patient care and employee relationships differ from the nonsense that took place in Small Town. I'm also interested to see how doctors treat the nurses, after being in constant fear of being yelled at by the doctors and practitioners in my first unit. this will all be very interesting, for sure.




Guys, if you happen to think of me during your times of prayer, maybe help me in petitioning G-d for a solid roommate situation or a good house for low rent. I'm really needing some help. Also, if you could maybe think to ask for me to move from Mom/Baby into L&D real quick too, that would be wonderful.

Bless you all and I hope y'all's summers are more relaxing and less chaotic than mine!

Rebuilding Life

As I've had the past couple weeks "off", I have noted that the month of June/July is not a good month for me as far as life/working goes. For the past several years, this has been a time of the year where I am trying to start jobs, find housing, and otherwise "homeless" and bouncing between both of my parent's houses.

Both orientations are proving to be a bigger pain in the a$$ than initially expected. Between both hospital's HR people contacting me, educators calling, appointments for paperwork and health screenings, and the slew of other things I have to get done while living an hour and a half away from where I need to be, I'm frustrated. Just breathe. I know that everything will get done and even if I was only trying to figure out this process for one hospital, it would still be annoying. It'll get done soon, I'm just looking forward to being done with hospital orientations and floor orientations, so I can just start working.

Praise the L-rd I've got decent amounts of experience in NICU and some post partum/baby experience. Hopefully I get to learn some new valuable things during orientation!!!

I'll be going through the same charting class twice in the next couple of weeks, and it's a class I went through 2-3 times throughout nursing school. I should be working directly for the company by this point, but that didn't seem to happen.

No housing has become available in order for me to be able to move down to College town anytime soon. Maybe it's because I sound like a child on the phone? Maybe it's because everybody and their cousin is moving to this damn state and snatching up any hopes of having a house I had. House prices are skyrocketing, rent prices are ridiculous, new houses are being built all over the place, and I predict another economy crash here in the near future. I can see the crash of 2008 happening again... soon. Until then, I'll be trying to find a place for me and the puppy to live.

This baby nurse is struggling.



How is your guys' summer shaping up?

One of Those Days

Today is just one of those days.

I woke up at 7 a.m. because I had an appointment to take my car in to the shop because I had taken on some water in my transmission due to some flooding a few weeks ago. I show up and they tell me they might not get to see my car until after noon. Then what's the point of an appointment?!?

I dropped it off because I need it fixed, they shuttled me home. Then called because they had failed to let me know it would cost $52 just to "look" at the car due to the fact that it's making a weird sound. Well, you just dropped me off with no transportation, so I guess it's okay to do that.

Fast-forward to them texting me at their closing time: They texted that they have an estimate on my car and to call them back. I called back and they apologized, because they had sent that text prematurely. I can feel my blood pressure rising. I called my dad to ask if it's worth it to let them keep my car to work on it and in the process of talking with dad, I went ahead and decided to call the mechanics back and tell them to just let me have my car back. So I call back and ask if they have already seen it, due to the conflicting messages I have received thus far. I got a few mixed messages with roundabout explanations, all of which tells me nothing!

So, I called Mema and asked her to drive me to the mechanics at 7 a.m. tomorrow morning to get my car back. I'm more than a little irritated.

Now, a good chunk of irritation began because of one of my "job offers" calling back and demanding an answer today. I interviewed with them yesterday and they immediately told me they would love for me to work with them. It was PRN but they were considering hiring me part time, if I would be willing to cross-train and work postpartum. Well, the recruiter called today, with my offer, and after hearing it I let her know that the job is concerning to me. I am afraid of losing my critical care nursing skills if they keep sending me over to postpartum. I told her that I would consider working full time for that hospital if they would let me train in labor and delivery, but she told me they have no openings. She then asked if I had interviewed for labor and delivery and which location. To which, I stupidly replied that I had interviewed at another hospital system for L&D. I have until Thursday to think about it and get back to her. I would be more than willing to work PRN in the NICU, but why are all of these hospitals trying to get me to train on postpartum??? It's really irritating. Once I show on my resume that I had a year of NICU, then went to PP, nobody will want me back in the NICU and they won't want me anywhere besides maybe med/surg because that's essentially what Mom/Baby (aka postpartum) is!



All I want to do is eat chinese food and the chinese restaurant I found that delivers in this ridiculous town has 2 phone numbers and neither one of them work. They don't even ring through to anything.



My gums over my wisdom teeth have been swollen for a couple weeks. I'm essentially a teething adult. I can feel my teeth being more exposed now than they were a couple weeks ago. Thing is, I can't eat because my gums/teeth hurt so bad because they are pointed sideways and smooshing my other teeth closer and closer together as they come to the surface. If only the pain would keep me from eating, then maybe I could lose some of the 15 pounds I've gained since moving here.



I give up. I'm gonna go take a nap. I've slept away an entire year because I sleep when stressed/tired/bored/lonely. I'm 23 and don't even know how I got here because I have slept away this last year and the year before I was sleeping when not at work/at school.


The struggles are real today. I need some serious prayer, even more serious Divine Interventions, and some sort of stress relief would be great too. Maybe I'll go cry, that's good stress relief.

The Trainwreck of Family

This is a post dedicated to grandma... Oh. My. Gosh.

Keep in mind that grandma and Mema are different people. Grandma has narcissistic personality disorder, or the evilest degree. She does things to spite people and really helped me through my Mental Health rotations because I got to diagnose her from the DSM-V, see all of the real-world manifestations of the symptoms, and now I get to watch legit crazy unfold before me without having to take care of it.

Grandma ended up falling out of bed while my grandpa's sister was in town. Now, this would probably not be a huge deal normally, but she's a few hundred pounds and barely able to walk when she feels better. Mostly she depends on places having wheel chairs and makes my grandpa (who is a cancer patient and on chemo) wheel her around and carry her bags. Are you fucking kidding me???!!!??? Let's shy away from that, though.

She fell out of bed and tried to get my uncle and grandpa to get her up. Well, they couldn't do it so my grandpa's sister called the fire department (against grandma's wishes because their house needs to be condemned). 4 firefighters couldn't get her up, so they slid her on a fancy air mattress (like what we use in the hospital to transport patients) and got her to the stairs. She ended up in the hospital via 9-1-1 a couple days later.

Dude, she almost got fired from being a patient for being so mean and combative!!! She was in restraints and everything! The doctor threatened to discharge her and let her figure out how to get home and how to care for herself. She ended up staying in there for a few more days, so we tried to get a better psych consult but they say we can't ask for that because we were not put as her POA (power of attorney). Couldn't you do it because she's already shown herself to be bat shit crazy in the first 2 seconds she was there? C'mon?!?

She ended up getting discharge home after about 4 days in the hospital. She was sent home with nobody to care for her, home oxygen, and meals on wheels. She's got CHF, COPD, morbid obesity, and she is less mobile than when she went to the hospital. I don't understand how they thought that would be okay. The hospitals in Home Town have consistently let us down when it comes to care and discharge of my grandparents and I'm getting more and more frustrated with the medical care that patients receive. I hate that in nursing school we are taught about all of the resources and help available to people, but there's nothing in the real world. NOTHING!

Grandpa was sent home after account after account of abuse and lack of people to be able to care for him. Grandpa was sent home with nothing. Grandma was sent home after it was proven that she can't survive at home! She needs equipment to get her up, help with the bathroom, assistance to shower, and tons of other help. She was sent home with nothing, even though she actually needs to be admitted to a nursing home.

What are ya gonna do? She has freewill and the right to deny nursing home care. The social workers are doing nothing to help grandpa minus a brief home visit 2 weeks after his discharge to prove that he was not able to go up the stairs to get to bed. That visit did nothing. She was also supposed to see that there is one working bathroom in the whole blessed house, human feces covering said bathroom, no working fridge/freezer, lack of driving abilities on grandma's part, and grandpa can't drive because of his seizure meds. None of this was assessed and we specifically laid out concerns point by point. It's enough to make you want to bang your head against a wall or walk on shoes of legos where all of the pointy edges dig into your feet with every step.

G-d is working everything out though. Do you remember how I told you that grandma stole grandpa's phone and routed all of his calls to her phone? Well, while she was in the hospital, grandpa went in and asked for his phone and credit cards back (she had also stolen his wallet). My aunt (my mom's sister) went into grandpa's phone and undid grandma's little move to forward his calls to her phone. Grandpa also expressed his need to get his will situated, look at his bank account, and started asking how much longer he has to live. All of these things were things he didn't want to do with grandma there because she has been known to steal from people, especially if they are fixin' to die or newly dead. My great grandpa stayed dead in his house for a couple of days before grandma (who found her dad dead) called 9-1-1 about finding him dead, so that she could go through his house and take what money and valuables she could find before her two siblings found out he had passed away.

You can't make this shit up.

We think she forwarded the calls from grandpa's phone to hers in order to screen his doctor calls and bank calls. We think she was also stealing his money, thus the taking his cards and forwarding his calls... As far as screening doctor calls, that's so that she can be in control of what we, as the family, get told. When grandpa was initially admitted into the hospital, she told us he was in the ICU and intubated and fixing to die. That was a huge ass lie. He was confused and slightly sedated at first, but it only lasted a night or two before he came around to being his normal, cute little self. I don't know why she lied like that, but she does it regularly. She doesn't even lie about big stuff every once in awhile, she lies every single time she opens her mouth. She lies about stuff that happened 10 minutes ago that I was witness to and know what actually happened. I'm talking bat-shit crazy, people!!!

This is legit family drama and it all happened over the course of this last week (except grandpa going into the hospital, that was a couple months ago). Since grandpa's hospitalization, grandma just gets worse and worse with her schemes and evil shenanigans.

LIfe in Slow Motion

I had that follow up skype peer review interview thing... it went okay. It was the same questions, same lady from the first interview, just add in one of the floor nurses. Like, really? Plus, I sat on my end of the skype call for 20 minutes before the interview started because I was told to connect 10 minutes early and it took awhile for them to connect. Minor irk, I'll be fine.

It seems to me, however, that once I start interviewing with one hospital in the system, that it suddenly shuts me down for any of the other hospitals in that system. I have interviewed in College Town, which then made the recruiter from Home Town (in the same system but different recruiter/hospital) not contact me anymore. That's ridiculous! The recruiter for the paper charting hospital at least talked to me about location, but I need to go ahead and call her back and ask her to get me more interviews at higher acuity places.

This whole process is absolutely ridiculous and they take frickin forever to get back to you with anything. Application -> recruiter call? 1.5 weeks. Recruiter call -> interview? 1.5-2 weeks... Interview -> job offer??? Uh, probably never!!!

Grandpa is doing okay. Major family drama went down because one of his sisters (he's one of 10 kids...) came to visit him. His family hates grandma... ummm, lots of people do but that's a different story. Anyway, his sister had tried to call him for 2 weeks to let him know she was coming into town. However, when grandpa went into the hospital with confusion, where we learned of his cancer, grandma stole his phone and routed all of his calls to her phone so that nobody would get to talk to him. Why? Because grandma is mean. Don't take this lightly. She has narcissistic personality disorder and she's got the meanest, evilest version of it. She does things just to try to kill people slowly and try to torture them until they give in and keel over dead. I kid you not. (More storied about her in another post. She takes too long to talk about and I've got loads of crazy stories on her just from this last week.)

Anyway, this particular sister of grandpa's will tell her off! Haha, so funny. BUT I MISSED ALL OF IT! Anywho, since grandpa wasn't getting any calls and they were all sent straight to grandma's phone, my great aunt ended up strolling into the house unannounced. My mom said that my grandma's jaw dropped to the floor! AND I MISSED IT ALL!!! Damn it!

Regardless, grandpa is losing a bunch of weight, not drinking enough, not eating, and my grandma just keeps him from having food by telling him he doesn't need to be eating. Poor guy. I just wish he could have time alone from her! Just let him live with me!!!

Work is okay. I finally have an end date. With that came a call from HR in the middle of my nap. Ugh, I answered a call from the hospital, while mostly asleep, to hear a very loud, overly cheering lady essentially passively aggressively yelling at me for breaking my 2 year contract. She kept reiterating that I signed on for 2 years, so the hospital gave me $3500. I kid you not, she probably told me that it was $3500 like 8 times in 2 minutes. Yes, I know what I signed on for! She was being really rude, while trying to sound nice, all the way up until I told her I have to leave because my grandpa is sick. She sounded slightly sorry and then had to start fumbling around for words. Long story short, she asked how I wanted to pay it back. I told her to go ahead and have accounting call me and we can talk about it. They haven't called, or maybe they did and didn't leave a message. You would think that a hospital, that has half of their employees working night shift, would understand that they need to not call in the middle of the day and that they should leave a message if they want to get any business done. This hospital is severely pissing me off. Whatever, I'm leaving, it'll be okay eventually.




I can see the L-rd working, but I'm only seeing the surface. I want to see the behind-the-scenes takes. I want to see how this all plays out and how everything gets worked out. *sigh* Tis not the way G-d works. Yay for faith building... I know it's a good thing, it's just that growing pains are painful and there's no Tylenol for spiritual "discomfort".

Imposter Syndrome

For as long as I can remember, I have felt out of place. I'm out of place working in the NICU, in school, in Small Town, in Home Town, among "friends", with my own family (especially extended family). I know I'm not the only one, but it's highly unsettling to feel like you don't belong anywhere.

Well, it hit me like a freight train last night at a small family gathering I attended to celebrate a few family birthdays. I show up and I know most everybody there, but a couple of my very own cousins are people I've never met before. THEY'RE MY OWN AGE!!! How have I not met them before??? Doesn't matter, I don't belong here anyway. The family that is so tight-knit here all lived in this town for a couple decades now. I've only been here for about 10 months. Of course I'm not going to be used to this side of the family because they never came up to Home State for anything, so we only saw them on the rare occasion that my little nuclear family made it down to Small Town. This, was not a frequent even because my dad despises it down here and doesn't like this side of the family (his side, btw). Sigh.



I mentioned that my Mema's sister is the DON for my floor of the hospital right? She's the one who let me come and shadow in L&D and NICU throughout college and then offered me a NICU position. Well, seeing as she's my boss, I have decided to not really mention that I am looking for employment else where. Who in their right mind would? Unfortunately, I may have mentioned to Mema that I was applying to a local nursing program in order to work as a clinical instructor or professor aide. I'm a fucking idiot for doing such a foolish thing. Last night at the dinner, which just so happened to be at Mema's Sister's house, Mema decided it would be a good conversation to bring up that I was applying for this university position. WHY ON EARTH WOULD THIS SEEM LIKE A GOOD CONVERSATION TO HAVE AT A FAMILY GET-TOGETHER??? AND WITH MY BOSS???!!!??? I get that they are sisters and there was a lul in the conversation, but that's not Mema's information to be sharing and that is not an appropriate time!

Mema keeps calling my mom "to visit" and check in on her. Fine, that's expected. However, she also keeps making things up about me and my life in order to be discussing it with my mom during said "visits". I recently shared slight concern over lack of days that I get to work, so she called my mom almost immediately and told my mom that "I am very worried about work, worried sick!". My mom, being my best buddy and knowing that we don't believe everything we hear, texted me with said information. I then got to reassure my mom that I am not super concerned, more peeved than anything, and I reiterated that she (Mom) and I had already discussed my lack of hours and next career choices in depth. She, of course, already knew all of these things because I call my Mom pretty much every day. But why does that seem like news that would be Mema's place to share? It's not! This is why I don't tell her secrets or anything that is of any worth, she spreads it to everyone, degrades me and complains about me to the whole family, then gets upset when I don't live at her house, spend every free moment with her, and want to move away from her town. I can feel my blood pressure rising just recounting the various other times this type of situation has come up with her.

She told my mom that I was considering moving to a Huge Southern City to go to midwifery school, then proceeded to bash said city to mom. Not her place to share such info, especially when I was telling her things like "I might go back to school, such and such place has a pretty good program, it wouldn't be for another few years... etc... etc... etc..." What happened? Mema called mom and told her I was planning to move ASAP and was unhappy here in Small Town and went on to say she (Mema) regretted ever talking me into coming down here."

I told you about her meeting with exfiance where she sent my mom a text disowning me and telling my mom that I was pretty much a failure, right? She also sent me a hatemail letter informing my family she would never go camping again (because that's where I introduced her to exfiance, stupid choice on my behalf I know). She then got upset with me for not wanting to live with her (she told my mom in the text that I was uninvited from staying at her house anyway) and she got PISSED when nobody wanted to go camping with her this summer, myself included. Duh! You told my family that you wouldn't ever go camping with us again because I'm such a fucking failure at life!!! I get that exfiance was evil to the core and terrible to everyone. However, do you not remember that you married not one, but 2 of them??? Why would you not help me out of a bad situation by being there for me instead of disowning me and spreading rumors behind my back to my entire family (extended and immediate) so that I now have nobody but my parents and my brother? (my dad doesn't even know what happened still).



Some days I wish I was born into a family who was closer to the cousins, grandparents, and entire family. Those days are few and fleeting. After most family gatherings/functions, I recall the simpleness that comes from having the closest family members 2-8 hours away and I count it a blessing to not have an Everybody Loves Raymond situation going on. Small Town got me close to being Raymond, but I keep my doors locked and my house appears to have nobody living in it, even when I'm home for weeks on end because I can't even go to work...



I don't belong here. "Be in the world, not of the world" Can there be a friends clause or some type of support group for those of us stuck in the world but with no connections or need to stay here? Maybe a vacation visa to leave the world for awhile? Something???!!!???

Because I'm An Idiot

Let's preface this with the fact that we had a recent baby boom and are busting at the seems.

I keep making stupid newbie mistakes. Now, is this because I'm not paying attention? Not really. Mostly, I'm making mistakes without even knowing I'm making them because these are things that I was not taught in orientation. Now that I am on my own, I get in trouble for making said mistakes because I am now responsible for the actions I do, whether I know it is against the rules or not.

This was brought about by getting "in trouble" (my words, not theirs) for overfeeding my kid. In our unit, children can go to ad lib and/or on demand. This, to me, means they can eat however much they want (ad lib) whenever they wake up and start fussing (on demand). Nobody taught me otherwise, until today.

I had my charge nurse feed one of my kids because I was crazy busy and also way late on charting. Well, she ended up looking at my charting and told me I was way overfeeding my kid. Apparently it is an unspoken rule that ad lib actually means 160-200 mL/kg/day. Now, average this out by how long the kid goes between feedings (2-4 hours) and you get your ad lib ranges of what to feed depending on how long they slept. Who knew? Well, I guess everyone did... except me. So, this kid's max was 100 (actually  this is only for going 3 hours in between, for 4 hours it's 133 mL) and I was letting him take as much as he wanted, in the ball parks of 120-150. So, not too much over, and I admitted my mistake to day shift during report, to my friends, and to our unit manager. However, I still feel like a complete dumb ass because I just know this is going to end up being a thing that gets talked about for weeks. The doctor is going to be upset, I'm going to get a lecture, maybe a group email, and it'll be because of me and because I have no clue what the hell I'm doing. Some kids do get ordered to be ad lib with no max. Apparently this is something that is uncommon and ad lib means 160-200.

Ya live and learn, I guess. Poor day shift must think I'm a complete moron because I know the other girls on night shift think I am.



In other news we got our yearly reviews done... everyone is pissed. We have a peer review system, but not everyone fills out reviews for other employees. Plus, the reviews from the employees are used as the sole summation of your work on the unit. So, there is a lot of bias. If you get your review "randomly" (I don't think they were all random) put into a folder to be reviewed by someone on our unit who doesn't like you, your raise will depend on how mean they felt that day. On the flip side, we have some employees who don't do well at work and cut corners who get reviewed by their friends and end up getting raises that they maybe shouldn't have gotten as well as better reviews than they worked for. So, no matter what, you get screwed. So, I got an okay eval, but my friends did not. Their evals went to a girl who is not nice to us and clearly does not like any of us new girls. Therefore, my friends had terrible reviews and did not get the same type of raise I did. It might be by just a few cents, but the reviews are on file for the rest of their career at this hospital. They are not getting good marks because their "grader" is spiteful, rude, mad at us for going to HR about her, and biased.

Add in that I'm tired, probably PMS'ing, and cannot seem to have a good night, and even though I'm sleep deprived, I will probably end up not sleeping well. That sucks because I have been at work every night for a week and still have another 4 days to go. I kid you not, I will have 13 days clocked, in a row because I'm stupid and kept coming in "for just one more night" because we were slammed with kids.

Sometimes I do dumb things.

Mostly, I do dumb things regularly. It's a wonder my review didn't turn out worse than the most negative things being written is that "she gets frustrated". Well no shit. I'm a new grad, I've been on my own for 3 months (out of orientation), and I get frustrating assignments because they are trying to get me experiences with tougher assignments. They say that in the review. Half of our staff is frustrated and frazzled most of their nights at work because they are 1) high strung on their good days and completely out of control on a mediocre day or 2) assignments are not given to be balanced so that stress is evenly distributed across the entirety of the staff for the shift. Assignments are given with no regards to patient needs and nurse responsibilities.



On a more positive note. I emailed the nurse midwifery program I want to attend. They emailed back quickly and asked if I wanted to start in August 2017... I can't move yet, but I kind of want to start school so I'll graduate in 2020. It's a happy year especially with high school graduation being 2012, college graduation being 2016; 2020 fits my little trend!

The only thing I can think is: I can't even be a nurse and do things correctly on a regular basis, what makes me think I can be a practitioner and write orders as opposed to simply following practitioner orders? Everything takes practice and experience, but it's scary!



Ah well. I'm off to sleep so that I can show up to struggle through another crazy shift.

Let's not even talk about my new desire for a kid. I keep getting attached to my little patients that  I tear up when they get to go home. It's bitter sweet, but I love these kids more than I should be loving patients. Then I want a kid, but then I'm over-come with dread and fear of the things they could/might go through in life. Then I start crying because I get scared thinking about what it would be like to have to go through meeting a guy and hoping he won't be evil to me like the other guys have been. And, if he's not evil, then I am scared to tell him the evils I've survived and I'll have to delve into why I don't think I'm pure... and... and... and...

I think I just need some sleep. I'll catch up with y'all later.

Pure Rage

Let's start this post out nicely... I don't want any comments. I love you all, but no comments on this post. Mostly, I probably shouldn't be posting this but 1) I need to vent, 2) I'm trying to be straight with y'all about the struggles of life in case somebody out there in the virtual space of the world feels the same way, I don't want them thinking they are alone, and 3) there is too much rage, moving through my mind too quickly, for me to be able to hand-write the shit I'm feeling in a paper journal so that I can burn it later. Thus, my online outlet which you can choose to read, or not. Completely your choice. THERE WILL BE LOTS OF CURSE WORDS USED THROUGHOUT!!! Are they necessary? Not usually, but every once in awhile it is absolutely required. Right now, just know that this post will be long, and it could be about half the length if I didn't use so much profanity.

*****PROCEED WITH CAUTION*****ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK*****

No. I should be screaming these things from entirety of my being, into a canyon somewhere, where nobody can hear me, where I later collapse into a ball of a shell of a girl who's merely trying to hang on in a world where she doesn't belong living a life she does not understand at all.

Let's also preface this by saying that for the past several days, I'm in one of my moods. Yes, I have several moods that rotate throughout my days. None of them are really actually good. Some have "good" moments, I suppose, but I cannot find the good in my life. Present mood: contemplating the purpose of existence and how my life fits in with the plan of creation. I've been feeling dissociated and in a haze for the last week and a half also. I felt that necessary to point out as well.

Another nursing school buddy got married, I think today. Which, btw, is an odd day to have a legit wedding, seeing as it's Monday. But I digress and continue on with my ridiculously long post about things I've said in the past but am still mulling over in my obviously not healed mind...

Another girl got married. Now, I am happy for her, I truly am. She was a great girl, she's super smart, and she's been with this guy for a long time. She wasn't pressuring him to get married or engaged, and she seems relatively grounded.

I'm upset at the death of my future. I'm upset that my dreams of a future, and what I wanted for dating and marriage didn't even have a fucking shot at happening because two assholes decided that my wishes are not worth honoring. I'm fucking pissed that I didn't get a say. I'm enraged that nobody is fighting for me and that nothing will come of the pain I've been forced to survive. Can G-d handle it? Absolutely. Is He not the one who is in charge of revenge and setting wrongs right? He absolutely is! That's not what I'm saying. I don't even know what I'm saying any more but I know I'm upset.

The hand of tragedy and trauma is dealt randomly, I think. I don't know, maybe it's not. Maybe we are predestined to be forced to live through shitty circumstances that make us want to die on a daily basis, but somehow we're supposed to see how long we last before saying that we've had enough and throwing in the towel. Maybe, somehow, we're paying for the sins we've committed, or the sins that some person in our family tree committed a hundred years in the past. Maybe our suffering is somehow part of some atonement process that doesn't actually atone for anything because our suffering can pay for no sin or mistakes, but we still have to go through that. I DON'T FUCKING KNOW! I do know, however, that even though I sin, I don't know what mistakes justify a person having to live through fucking trauma, rape, incest, domestic abuse, emotional abuse, gas lighting, constant ragging, the death of innocent people who have done nothing wrong, or any other trauma. Most trauma makes no fucking sense. Most of it has no noticeable purpose, no rhyme, no reason, nothing! Nothing! NOTHING!

Why, then, are we still having to live through such things. More importantly, why do some people go through life without ever experiencing trauma, or major life troubles, while others get clobbered around every FUCKING CORNER???!!!!!??? I'm not saying I'm necessarily one of them, but 3 people resulting in more traumas than I can count in a year and a half is a little fucking excessive to me.

I don't know, maybe that's just me. Eventually, I'll get over it. Except not. No. This shit never goes away until the day my heart stops and I get to be done. Perhaps then I will be free from these hellish memories and the pains that stab me in the chest. Hopefully, someday, I will be cut loose of the chains that bring me back to my pits of despair when I think of the beautiful wedding night I wanted, the dreams of being STD/STI free with no doubts in my mind about my status in that area, and I will put to rest my living nightmares that play over and over in my head, constantly. Did I have a choice of having a beautiful wedding night? No. Can I know for certain right now that I am presently STD/STI free? I have no fucking clue and I get panic attacks daily thinking that I may have one and not knowing. Yes, I can go get tested, but I'm still just not ready to drag myself to my death sentence just yet. Will I ever be free from these nightmare memories that run on loops in my brain? Not until the day I die or the day somebody develops an amnesia treatment that only lets you erase certain memories. Honestly, I'm not holding my breath for that treatment, but the end of my days is rapidly approaching, I'm sure.

You know what's hilarious to me, though? (Now, keep with me because that was solid fucking sarcasm). I have watched over 5 stand-up comedians over the past couple of hours that are on Netflix and all of them make jokes about rape and molestation within the first 5-10 minutes. 

Back to being serious, there is absolutely nothing funny about rape, molestation, incest, sexual assault, domestic abuse, beating your wife/husband/girlfriend/boyfriend/child/parent/etc. There is nothing funny about abuse, at all! There's nothing funny about PTSD, war, slavery, or any other things like that. What bugs me the most, is that people who have never fucking lived in my damn shoes is going to make jokes about my life being ruined because the act that cause my life to be ruined is apparently funny to them. It's hilarious to them! The whole crown erupts with laughter when these people make these jokes! It makes my blood boil, it sends me into immediate flashbacks every time, and then I look at how our society deals with such troubling topics and the lack of sentencing and punishments make sense. My life makes less and less sense, but it makes sense that the fucking statistics grows for the events of rape that occur each day because it's all just a joke. 

My suffering is a joke. It's something I have to keep hush hush, because it bums people out. Nobody wants to hear my woes. I'm just regretful of allowing the guys to enter my body, because I let them do it. I must have wanted them to do it. My response to that: NOBODY WANT TO BE FUCKING RAPED!!! NOBODY WANTS THEIR LIFE TO BE RUINED AT THE HANDS OF SOME ASSHOLE WITH A FUCKING PENIS BECAUSE THEY FEEL THEY HAVE A RIGHT TO ENTER MY BODY. NOBODY WANTS CONSTANT WORRIES ABOUT THEIR STD/STI STATUS WHEN THEY HAD WANTED TO REMAIN VIRGIN, OR EVEN IF THEY WERE WILLING TO HAVE SEX AT SOME POINT, THE ONE TIME THAT THEY SAY NO AND THE GUY DOES NOT RESPECT THAT, THERE IS TRAUMA. SOMETHING, IN THAT PICTURE, IS NOT RIGHT.

What's so hard to understand about that? Apparently, it about as difficult as rocket science to understand... for many people who have never experienced rape, sexual assault, abuse, or any of the other many listed things already mentioned, or one of the hundreds of things I never even mentioned because there is too much!!! There's too much.

What has rape cost me? It's cost me: friends, family, sanity, sleep, good dreams, peace, any hope of love, joy, gladness in my adult life, excitement for post-graduation happenings, hope of having children, and my future, among other things.

I'm angry that some people live such beautiful, wonderful, sweet, amazing lives while I'm stuck in this. I'm overwhelmed at the constant waves of shit washing over me. I hate that just when I start to feel like I'm doing better, I get bombarded again with my hellish reality. I hate that I don't feel worthy of a happy life, and I feel guilty even, for what has happened, even though I can rationalize the events as me not being at fault for the actions that took place.

While most girls my age are dreaming of their futures, I'm sitting here wondering what I have done to deserve such shit. I wonder why it is that I'm here, what purpose my life plays in the Grand Scheme of things. Mostly, I'm left feeling overwhelmed at the magnitude of evil rising up around me on every side. I am suffocated by the fears of what a health check would bring. My past haunts me and chases my happiness away. The simple joys of life are completely lost on me, and I'm simply treading water in the middle of the biggest, stormiest ocean in the universe. I find myself praying that 1) I am free of disease and health complications and 2) that my life ends soon and that somehow, somebody remembers me with fondness.

I've been thinking about all the people I've lost in my life. They didn't die, most of them haven't, but they've left me or I've left them for various reasons. If my former friends heard I died, or came across my obituary, would they say I got what I had coming? Would they be glad I was gone because they didn't like me? Would they be sad at how things ended? Would they mourn the loss or get over it quickly by saying "Oh, that's sad. Was it suicide?" Would they come to a funeral, if there was one, or would they visit my grave and visit/yell at me the way I do with Country Boy? Would they remember me for being sweet, kind, and dreaming of a bright future? Or will they recall my bipolar, my grouchiness, and the way in which I made them upset by enforcing boundaries and refusing to take their shit. Would they ask how I died, prying for if my death were self-inflicted? Or would they hope that suddenly, my troubles were gone and I no longer lived with the shame and pain and scars this life has given to me. What would my obituary say? Who would even read it? How could my family even invite anyone to my funeral? Nobody would come except family, and then friends supporting my family. I would have no friends there because there is nobody left.

Does my life even make a difference? For anyone? (All rhetorical questions, you don't need to comment.)?




So what is the point of my sufferings? What is the point of anyone's sufferings? I know I'm not the only in pain over the hand this life has dealt. Of the numerous times I was supposed to die over the course of my life, from the time I was conceived until now, why was I not allowed to just fucking die??? I could have died free of pain. I could have died pure. I could have died and not even experienced the fight of life. Instead, I was kept alive. I keep having to be kept alive. I keep having to fight another day and suffer through.

I know the Good L-rd provides. He provides for my needs, my happiness, my joy, and everything good in this universe and beyond. He gives every good things. I know He gets me through the trauma, He gets me through the night, and He keeps me alive for another day. What I don't know, and what I don't understand, is why the hell I cannot just go ahead and cease breathing so I can be put out of my misery? Why can my heart not just take a permanent break and allow me to slip away? What is the purpose of allowing me to continue to suffer with the after-math of the consequences of sin. Not even just my sin! I'm suffering from the consequences of other people's sins too!!! Shit like this happens every day. Not so good people suffer no issues, while others suffer for personal sins as well as for the sins of the not so good people.



I keep feeling compelled to start working on forgiveness so I can try to move on. I think it's from the L-rd. I want to be ready to do that. I want to be ready to shoulder the pain and move on, but right now, the baggage is too heavy to be able to move away from anger and head towards full forgiveness. I don't know what I'm supposed to do.

I deal with being scared of what problems I have with health and my mental well-being on a daily basis. I fear the future because I see little chance of my story ending well any time soon. I know I'm not supposed to worry about the future, because what will I change by worrying about the future? Nothing. However, a happy, good future will take a billion and five miracles and I feel that's just too excessive for one person to be given in a lifetime. It doesn't matter what I feel I deserve or don't, it's ultimately up to G-d. I have no say. I'm just saying that statistically, the odds are not in my favor and I long for release from my pains and struggles bestowed upon me in this life.

I'm tired. I'm going to bed.

Support Group

Back in Home State, I asked my counselor about getting into a support group. While she was supportive, she told me there were two minor issues with that desire, but that I could do whatever it is that I felt would help. She told me: 1) you may want to wait until you are more stable because it may produce more triggers than you are used to, and 2) there isn't one at this crisis center, but I can help you search for one, if you decide this is something you still want to pursue.

Long story short, I didn't go to a support group in Home State, but I continued on with counseling. I went to counseling for a little over 4 months (3 months of which was 2 times a week). Now, with the help and support of Nurse Dee, and my worsening struggles with the events that put me in counseling to begin with, I have searched for one in Small Town and found one!

I went to support group last night. It was small at first. At 5:45 (when it starts), there were the leader, one other survivor, and myself. Shortly after group started, 2 more ladies came. We talked about boundaries, which is something I had requested my counselor to teach me about several months ago. So, it was mostly just a refresher, but still helpful because those are things that are commonly a struggle and that are good to practice and be reminded of on an ongoing basis.

So, group was good. I plan on going back when I have the chance and don't have to be at work or anything. I hope it goes well. I hope that this is a good group that helps me make connections and brings some peace. Granted, if the only thing it does is get me out of the house, that's a pretty big win anyway.

Can't Run From Your Past

When I told people about my plans to leave Home State, if they new my story, they would tell me that running away from my problems would not fix them. They always told me that my past will follow me wherever I go.

You know what? I have memories and things that come up with with everyday life, but I'm not constantly bombarded with everything I was hit with in Home State, especially in the town where I went to school (where the assaults happened).

Today is a rough day. The memories won't let up, but it's because I'm processing some bad news about one of my cases.

You know what? The legal system sucks when trying to actually get justice. I get that you have to have evidence and proof and whatnot, but seriously the amount of rapists that actually get charged compared to the number of rapes that happen is absolute garbage! No fucking wonder there is a huge number of people (men, women, or children) that are raped every single day. You wanna know why this damn rate is so high? Because the assholes that refuse to keep their appendages to themselves know the law. They know what to do in order to get away with their evil actions. They know that if you are drugged and don't remember the night, then nothing can be done to charge them, unless a witness watches everything that happens and catches the rapist in the act. They know to keep victims away from anyone else because that makes all of their assaults a case of "he-said-she-said" which makes their word just as reliable as the victim's, unless recorded and able to be used for proof.

Honestly, this world is so worried about being politically correct and not stepping on anyone's toes, that it's gotten to the point that nobody can be trusted and justice is unattainable. I know that the only one who can provide justice and truly fix anything is G-d. I don't believe that this is necessarily the end of the road, because He judges and punishes as He sees fit. Maybe one or both of these assholes that destroyed my life are sorry. Maybe they truly regret what they did, are remorseful, and have decided to apologize and ask for forgiveness to the L-rd. Maybe they think I'm over-reacting and think they've done nothing wrong. Maybe, they (or at least one of them), is truly evil and looks to further traumatize girls because he gets a kick out of it.

Who knows? Maybe they will never receive punishment, never feel sorry, never understand the extent to which they have caused harm to another living being. Maybe someday there will be showers of fire and brimstone. I don't know! I know nothing of the future. G-d might not want to punish them at all or maybe He does. Nobody can know.

I'll be honest with you, I pray for justice. I pray that somehow, these wrongs are made right and that I can have peace. I realize that one can have peace without justice being served, and I pray that I am able to come to a resolution regardless of whether judgement and punishment are served.

 *sigh*

So, today I struggle but I am on my way to a support group. I pray I find friends who can help me here. I pray I find ladies who can help me walk this rough road that I am being held prisoner on. All I can do is keep marching on as slow or as fast as it requires. I desperately need a bridge to a different path. I need a different road, a different direction, a different life. However, that's not how it works, so here I go...

on my way...




I have no clue where I'm going... 

Oh the beach!

Y'all, I just got back last night from a 2 week vacation and it was amazing! Sorry about the extended radio silence. A week at the beach and a week (split into two little pieces) of visiting with my family that lives in the south. Oh man, they are funny and boy can they cook.

We drove home to Home State and got in at about 0400 time there. I could have been dropped off at my new home, but I wanted to go back to get my dog. So, mom let me come to Home State, pick up the puppy (she's about 9 now) and then mom drove puppy and I back to Small Town yesterday. Actually, I drove but she was there. She just left here for Home State about an hour ago. I miss her terribly already...

Paperwork finally went through and I got to register for my NCLEX! *screams silently in head* I'm terrified. This is scary!!! What if I fail? Then I have to pay to take it again and my nursing permit will be revoked so I will be out of work until I pass it. Oh goodness, how could I handle that? How could I handle another thing wrong, I still feel like I'm on a constant teeter-totter and could fall into a pit that I'll never be able to get out of. I feel like I could drown at any moment and just not take another breath because of sheer exhaustion of surviving. Anyway, since the paperwork is in and I registered for the NCLEX, it'll take up to 10 business days from the day they processed it for me to get my permit so I can start working. Hopefully it happens sooner than that because I'd really like to begin working. Mema says they have babies again which is good for me but scary for the poor parents. It's one of those double-edged swords that makes nursing difficult.

So, it's just me a Puppy figuring out how to live in Small Town and getting our schedules back in order. Praise the L-rd for His timing and His provisions. I'm just barely making it, with loans from my parents and my one credit card nearly maxed out (and hardly any money in the bank). Money is tighter right now than it was when I was in college! Ah well, I'm hoping everything will get settled here shortly.

Odd Feeling

I've been feeling strange for quite some time now. It's hard to explain, but it's one of those things that you can just sense you, yourself, are "off".

Looking through Facebook tonight, because I have very little to do in Small Town without a current graduate nurse permit... anywho, it occured to me that I have had to train myself to live in the present moment for the last several months. Actually, about a year and a half now. Don't get me wrong, I'm excellent at "tuning out" and dissociating. However, my dreams of the future have been dampened dramatically to trying to focus on the "here and now" so that I can get myself through each new hour that I am left breathing here on this planet.

There are still days I wake up startled from nightmares.

I still have several panic attacks a week/month (on a good month).

My eating and self-care is not nearly where it needs to be.

Flashbacks still occur several times every hour.

I don't like people at the door, it freaks me out.

Even in a different state, the sight of trucks freak me the fuck out. Doesn't matter if they're red, green, purple, neon orange, any color of the damn rainbow; they freak me out... again...



Ragardless, these things have become my new normal. Flashbacks and nightmares and trucks still frighten me to my core, but I am not as notably shaken to everyone else because I've been battling this shit for over a year now.

For a year I haven't been able to dream for my future. I can't think about a time when I'll be completely free of these burdens because that day will never come, until the day I die. The suicidal thoughts have subsided a bit. I've been able to cut down on my self-harm and the way I used to take mass amounts of Benadryl, Tylenol, and Ibuprofen to self-sedate my brain into sleep for a few days. Most days, I am able to get myself something to eat and I'm drinking more water than wine, again.

Still, my hopes for a future are essentially nonexistent at this point. On one level, it's a little nice to not keep getting my hopes up, just to have them crushed year after year. On a deeper level, of me as a 22-year-old young "lady" (quotes because let's be honest, I'm a complete tomboy besides these past few months of ridiculous whiny posts) still wants to be able to dream about G-d providing a husband for me, a white gown and walking down the aisle. Someday having children, continuing on with my nursing education, teaching my children how to live with lots of animals and teaching them about the various things in life. This, teaching them about life, is usually where I shift into reverse and convince myself a future needs to not happen.

Getting to the point in my imagination that there is a husband and there are children is a long, long process. It used to be something to look forward to, ponder, and pray about. Now, it feels like pulling teeth and I find myself begging the Good L-rd to have someone who is patient and kind enough to be able to handle my crap baggage. Then it slows even more because I get to thinking about how being with me would not be fair to a single soul. That's about the time that all past roommates and all the negative comments about how badly I suck start playing through my mind...

Anyway, in the off chance I get to the point where I think about the things to teach my imaginary children, I come to a complete stop when I think about them being any older than an infant. How can I handle them going to a sleep over where I'm not there? What if the friend has older siblings? Are those older siblings supervised? What happens when we have to have the "sex talk"? Do I tell them about what happened to me? Will that cause trauma? Will that make them over-paranoid? When they are in high school/college, will they be able to stay safe from the horrors inflicted upon me? Will I have days where I stay in bed and call my mom or mother-in-law to deal with the kids because I simply can't? How do I explain to them the days when I'm weepy, dissociated, sad, numb, or completely unable to function? How is this fair to kids? How would this be fair to a husband?

How the hell is any of this shit fair to me? I didn't ask for any of these assaults.

A year and a half ago, I was going about life, excited to be a nurse and to see what my future had in store. One absolute shitty year changed it all for me.

I'm still taking my life hour-by-hour, sometimes I work myself up to a day-by-day mentality. Those days, where I'm not living hour-by-hour, are surprisingly my "good" days.

Maybe someday I'll get to a point where I can dream about a future. Maybe, someday, I'll have a future.

June 12 was supposed to be my "wedding day". Haha, that was the date I picked for the wedding of exfiance and I. That day came and went and it was one of the best, most freeing days I've had in a long time. It was a day where I woke up knowing that I dodged a bomb. No, he was not bullet to dodge, he was a fucking bomb!!! I'm by no means completely safe, and I have a long way to go before I am healed, but I am free. Praise the L-rd for that.

Doorbells

You may or may not know about my phobia of doorbells and people knocking when I am not expecting them.

I thought this would dissipate when I left Home State, but maybe not.

Somebody just rang my doorbell and I kinda freaked out. I'm hiding in my room, had a mild panic attack when I heard it, and I tip-toed to the front room and waited for them to leave. I probably stood there for a solid 20 minutes before having the guts to peak through the blinds for a window hidden behind some rose bushes. Oh yeah, I have rose bushes at my new place!!!

Anyway, my heart is still racing and I don't know who it was that came over, maybe just some people trying to "spread the Good News" but I don't care. I'm losing my sh!t over someone ringing the damn doorbell because I'm scared it might be him.

It terrifies me to death to think that he would follow me all the way to Small Town because if he was that committed to finding me he's probably committed enough to hating me that he would kill me. Like literally murder me.

Oh I hope he never finds out where I live.

Mom said she was going to get me a surprise house warming gift... I was having a bad day so she decided to tell me what it was! Guess what it is? It's a doorbell that takes a picture of whoever is at your front door, whether they ring the bell or not, and the picture gets sent straight to your phone. That way, I don't have to worry about who is there and if I should answer the door or not. It also allows you to talk to them through a speaker and I can tell the doorbell to not sound, for when I'm sleeping during the day in order to be able to work night shift. I think it's exciting! Very ridiculous, but sometimes recovering from PTSD requires some silly interventions just to make life survivable. I think for most people, a picture-taking-doorbell is unecessary, but for a single woman living by herself in a brand-new town, it is okay. If said woman is also in fear of her life from some psycho who is the incarnation of pure evil... then it's even more okay.

I pray that someday he can change, but some people just can't. Some people are legit evil, all the way through to their toes. They are hell-bent on doing harm in the world and fucking up other people for their own selfish pleasure. What pleasure comes from this, I have not a clue, but it's their motivation for getting up in the morning.