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When I Realized I Wasn’t Fully Breathing
I don’t know when it started — but somewhere along the way, my breath shortened. It wasn’t panic, it wasn’t fear. It was something quieter: a body that had forgotten how to fully let…
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When I Felt Grief Over the Patients I Couldn’t Help
Some losses don’t knock you off your feet — they settle quietly in the background of your thoughts. Over time, I began noticing a gentle ache for the patients whose outcomes I couldn’t change,…
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When I Didn’t Know How to Answer “How Are You?”
Every shift someone asked, “How are you?” at the start or end of a conversation. At first, I knew exactly how to respond. Later, I barely knew what to say. The question became a…
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When I Noticed My Body Was Always Bracing
It wasn’t just during hard shifts. It was during quiet moments, too — my shoulders tense, my jaw set, my breath shallow. At some point, I realized my body had learned to brace as…
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When I Started Planning Bathroom Breaks Like Procedures
At some point I began to schedule even the smallest needs into my shifts as if they required strategic timing. A bathroom break didn’t feel casual anymore — it became another moment to calculate,…
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When I Cried in My Car and Called It Normal
It wasn’t a breakdown in front of someone else. It was a quiet release in the driver’s seat, after a long day, when the weight of everything I’d carried just slipped out. And afterward,…