The truest blessings of being a nurse are often found in the most unpredictable of places; in the connections with difficult patients, watching a new nurse rise above adversity, the unexpected understanding from a much feared experienced nurse, the silent shared strength of coworkers, and the immense pleasure of making a small difference in someone’s life, without any expectation of reciprocity. It’s not about the obvious. Blessings are often in the small details.
—Nurse X (via dancingnurse-ed)
Last tattoo at Anatomy! One shot on a super tough lady. The last year and a half has been awesome and I can’t wait to see everyone at Wonderland Tattoo.
Death comes to me again, a girl
in a cotton slip, barefoot, giggling.
It’s not so terrible she tells me,
not like you think, all darkness
and silence. There are windchimes
and the smell of lemons, some days
it rains, but more often the air is dry
and sweet. I sit beneath the staircase
built from hair and bone and listen
to the voices of the living. I like it,
she says, shaking the dust from her hair,
especially when they fight, and when they sing.
—Dorriane Laux (via vernish)
(Source: in-ois-oisou, via dotheunstuck)
Students are too often being punished for asking for help
Exactly five years ago, to the day, this was my life. During my junior year of college, I sought help for severe clinical depression and suicidal ideations. Instead of receiving support, I was threatened with involuntary institutionalization, forced to sign away all health record confidentiality, and given no option other than to take a likely permanent leave of absence from school. Thank god for my amazing mother, who flew across the country at the drop of a hat and single-handedly convinced the administration to let me stay. I have no doubt that if I had left school and my support group, I would have died.
I don’t normally include personal things like this on this blog, but today I saw this article posted on facebook. Today of all days. Exactly five years ago today, February 18th, I attempted suicide. Twice. Exactly five years ago from tomorrow, February 19th, I asked for help. Exactly five years ago from the day after tomorrow, February 20th, my college administration failed me.
It’s both a relief and a horror that I am not alone.
All the books we own, both read and unread, are the fullest expression of self we have at our disposal. … But with each passing year, and with each whimsical purchase, our libraries become more and more able to articulate who we are, whether we read the books or not.
—Nick Hornby - The Poysyllabic Spree (via bookporn)
"I would NEVER have guessed you had anxiety and depression issues ! You’re always so confident and everything !”