Semester 2

After a close call to failing last semester (yes I did pass pharmacology with a 76.3%), there is renewed hope. I’m currently kicking some serious booty in Psychology, and while there have been a few road bumps, I feel good about where I’m at.

Although: I’m a month in, and I’ve already had two full-scale panic attacks. Yep, folks, the talk is real: nursing school is as stressful as they say. Here’s what I’ve been doing to calm myself but still get everything done I need to:

  • Talk it out. No better way to solve a problem than to talk every detail out with people who care about your best interests.
  • Reward every small victory. Had a good day at clinical? I reward myself with hot Cheetos. I’m obsessed but at least it’s good motivation.
  • Throw away your eraser. I have to give credit for this one to my classmate Cody. On tests in the past, I have often second guessed myself and gotten questions wrong I had previously marked as correct. Ugh. I’m now trying to trust my gut instincts. Besides, that’s what I’ll have to do at hospitals for my entire career.

It’s going to be a long semester, but honestly it’s also just flying by. Almost at midterm already?! Are you kidding?? Life moves fast these days. Taking walks with my boyfriend and occasionally bingeing Gossip Girl or Grey’s Anatomy is not only healthy, it’s necessary to maintaining my sanity. And I will not apologize for that!


Lifestyle · Uncategorized

I Want To Be Better

I took this photo last weekend,  just before my boyfriend made a joking offhand comment about my anxiety. And I can’t stop thinking about it.

Since middle school, I’ve been an anxious person. Talking in class made me super nervous and I had perpetually sweaty hands. In high school, it escalated to the point where I would have an upset stomach every. single. morning. because I was so nervous about the idea of driving myself to school. I overthought everything and overanalyzed anything anyone said to me.

Then I moved away to school for a year and my anxiety reached its peak. Being in an unfamiliar place where I didn’t know very many people was extremely tough for me. It was excruciating trying to make friends and, by the spring semester, I spent most of my time writing in my dorm room, ate all of my meals alone, and counted down the days until I would next get the opportunity to go home. Ultimately, I chose to move back home and pursue my college education while in my hometown.

Over the past year, my anxiety really leveled out and I developed a lot of confidence in areas that I had none: being a “smart kid”, performance arts, and public speaking. Recently, though, I’ve been thinking a lot about the future. About my career path, where I’ll live, my relationship, even children. I think it has been overwhelming me. 

The struggle of being an ambitious person but also an anxious person is that I want so badly to do bold things: hike up mountains, backpack across Europe, move to the other side of the country. But at the same time, I’m scared. So many things could go wrong. A classic anxiety symptom that I exhibit quite frequently is imagining worst-case scenarios. You can see how this is problematic.

I want to be better. I want to be better. I want to do things because I know it’ll be worth it. I just need to push myself, and that’s hard. But I want to be better. And so I wake up in the morning, and I try again.



This past summer, I became obsessed, and I mean OBSESSED, with getting a pet bunny. I saw some of the fluffy babies at a Fourth of July carnival game and I fell in love. Twenty dollars later and I still hadn’t won a bunny, so I began to look for alternatives. A quick Craigslist search turned up some pretty good results, but there was the issue of my parents. They were completely against the idea of a pet rabbit. But I had fallen in love with a picture of a six week old grey bunny online. So what did I, a responsible adult, do? I got the bunny anyway.

I am very lucky to have pretty understanding parents, so the backlash wasn’t as bad as I had feared, and I settled on a name for my new bunny, a girl. Previously, I debated between two names, but I decided to name her after my favorite flower: Daisy.

The thing that scared me the most (and still terrifies me a little) was the fact that I was now in control of another living creature’s well-being. Feeding her every morning, making sure I let her out to run around for a bit each day, giving her the attention she deserves. It’s a lot to deal with, and I’m glad I assumed the role of Bunny Mom before I will ever attempt to care for an actual human child.

I ADORE Daisy. She really is super cute and has a very playful, sweet personality. She seems like a pretty content bun, so I feel like I’m doing my job okay. The thing about Daisy is that she gives me a reason to wake up in the morning. She needs me, and feeling needed is something that I honestly sometimes crave.

Recently, I realized that being a Bunny Mom™ has made me more confident and more able to speak my mind. Last week I had a small spat with my mom, and instead of completely shutting down, I explained to her that she had hurt my feelings, and she ended up apologizing. I think that Daisy has made me realize a lot more the things I care about deeply and the things that I’m willing to fight for.

Two months ago, I never would’ve guessed that a small fluffy animal could change my life so much, but now I really can’t imagine life without her. Here’s to another day of waking up and feeling needed.


Holding On To You

Last month I went to a Twenty One Pilots concert with my boyfriend and one of his younger sisters. I didn’t take a lot of pictures and I’m sorry but listen. Lydia, that’s my boyfriend’s sister,  had the time of her life at this concert and even though I didn’t know 75% of the songs, I felt so much joy just watching her.

Driving home from school recently, I drove a different route than usual. It was raining and I took the way home that I always drove when I was in high school. It made me think about my senior year, where I dealt with crippling anxiety about the future and grappled with the fact that I would never and will never be as smart as my friends who are now in engineering school. I realized this: I don’t want to be an engineer. So it doesn’t matter if I’m not smart enough to be an engineer.

There were a few messages that were circulating online a lot when I was a teenager, with connotations that the only person you can trust in life is yourself and being lonely is somehow poetic and makes you a stronger person. It wasn’t until, in the past year, I met a lot of people that proved those wrong. People I can lean on and talk to any time of the day. People that will support me no matter what.

I guess I understand now that, while good art does come from loneliness, life is so much better when you have people to share it with. I know a lot of people at that Twenty One Pilots concert were people with depression, anxiety, and there might have even been people who decided not to go because they couldn’t find someone to tag along with them. But I swear to every heaven ever imagined, no one could ever feel lonely in a room with 30,000 people all screaming the lyric “And I’ll be holding on to you”.