Category: Professional stuff

I am not one-size fits all. Not even close

~ ladyquirky ~ Leave a comment

I have said it before. I will likely say it again. I am fat. Now, there are people who try to say things like:

“You are not fat. You have fat.”

I hate that. It makes me roll my eyes and want to scream. Give me a break. I am not in the mood to argue semantics. Do not undermine my intelligence by trying to put a positive spin on a potentially lethal medical condition. I deserve better than that. You deserve better than that.

Obesity is a medical condition. Morbid Obesity is a serious medical condition. I have that. It does not make me less of a person. It does not mean that I have zero self-worth. This is not some body dysmorphia issue. It is a medical fact. Here is the caveat. I am responsible for treating this disease.

For me, this is not due to something out of my control. I have made poor life-style choices. I ate junk food (I still do sometimes.) I have not been active enough (I am a little better, I need to work harder.) I did not put my physical health and well-being as a priority. Once again, this does not make me a bad person. Stop making excuses for me. I can do that all on my own.

As a morbidly obese nurse practitioner, I find the whole weight loss topic difficult to broach with my patients. I feel like I have no right to tell them what they need to do in order to get healthy. I am actually afraid that they are going to challenge me and ask exactly who I think I am? Well, let me tell you. I am an educated medical professional who has an obligation to try to help you achieve health and wellness. When I avoid this topic, I am not preserving either of our best interests. I am doing you a disservice.

I do not hesitate to admonish a patient for smoking, not taking their blood pressure medications, or not taking care of their diabetes. I lay out the worst case scenarios, and do my best to convince them that “you could die!” I ask questions to find out what the barriers to compliance are, and I try to help them find the tools they need to be healthy. So, why do I avoid the topic of weight loss? Why do I avoid asking them if they need tools to get healthy?

I have an obligation to be open and honest with myself, and my patients. I need to step up and take the time to find out why they struggle with living a healthier lifestyle. I never hesitate to make sure that my elderly patients who are losing weight have enough to eat, and to inquire about who helps the ones with mobility issues get their needs met.

I am not insinuating that I know the best method for everyone to lose weight. I am not insinuating that everyone who is overweight or obese is going to die. I do know without any reservation that there is no such thing as morbid obesity being healthy. Even if you have not developed any obesity related complications, I assure you, you will.

As a medical professional, I want to see my community thrive. I want to improve the health and wellness of my community as a whole. I want to improve my health and wellness.

Starting to workout and eat right is a daunting task. You feel isolated. You feel like you are on display. People do not hesitate to walk up and exclaim “OH MY GOD! How much weight have you lost?” It makes you feel like you are just a number. My self-worth has nothing to do with how many pounds I have lost. I get more satisfaction when I do something active that I could not do before. You are embarrassed when you are wheezing and out of breath after 5 minutes on the treadmill. You are going slower than anyone else. You do not belong.

This is why I think that promoting a community walking program will be beneficial for my town. We can promote activity and healthy lifestyles in a nonthreatening and fun way. We can help people with goal setting, and then help them on their journey to meet it.

So, I want to start a movement movement. I want to encourage and support people on whatever step of their journey they are on. I want everyone to have resources for their questions, and a safe place to voice their concerns.

I want to foster a community of encouragement and I want people to have somewhere to celebrate all their milestones.

IMG_5863
It’s way more fun to workout with friends- and it makes the selfies all the more epic.

I used to tell myself that I needed to lose weight so that I could work out. Does that make a bit a sense? I felt like I did not deserve to be helped. Everyone deserves a little help. Maybe all they need is a safe place, reasonable goals, and a few friends.

Daddy Issues Part II

~ ladyquirky ~ Leave a comment

It’s the middle of January *2006. I have been a nurse on the night shift for about six months. My patient load tonight is insane. Part of it is my fault. I ask to keep the patient at the end of the hall even though the rest of my group is at the other end. The thing is, I am worried about him. He is in room *417. *details and names are changed for privacy.*

Mr. 417 has been in the hospital for several weeks. When I first meet him, he is a cantankerous grouch. He does not like being stuck in bed with the tube snaking out of his nostril and connected to suction. He is unable to eat, so we continuously drip nutrients like lipids, glucose, and vitamins into his veins.

I am still inexperienced, and completely naive about the seriousness of his condition. Yes, he is quite old, but has always been healthy up to this point.

I dote on my little cranky man, pick up extra shifts, and ensure that he is well cared for. Mr. 417 is excessively difficult to please. Everything has to be just so, and I have our routine down pat.

It is three in the morning. I have been running from room to room all night. I am doing a bowel prep for a colonoscopy in room 405 and the patients in 402 and 407 are call light happy. I am in Mr. 417’s room about every 20 minutes to check on him, and to try to find some relief for his discomfort- all to no avail.

I am busy giving a bed bath in room 405, and unable to check on him from 0235 until 0300. When I finish my tasks I hurry to check on him. What I find is a new nurse’s worst nightmare. I run to get my charge nurse, and we get an ABG and a CXR. Obviously in shock. I have to call a doctor and get some help for my patient.

I pick up the phone and dial the number. I ask the answering service who is on call that night. When she answers, I promptly hang up and burst into tears. I am one of those annoying people who cry at the first sign of stress.

Oh, the call light is going off. My patient in room 405 has tried to get up and navigate her way to the bathroom without assistance. The Golytely effects hit her rapidly. There is a very large problem all over her room. We do not have a nurse’s aide tonight.

I have to call the doctor. Let’s call him Dr. Snape. Everyone knows that is not his real name. In my hospital, he is infamous. This is a man who does not like to be woken up. Nurses dread calling him, and almost everyone has a Dr. Snape story. His reputation is legendary. He is also known as one of the best doctors.

I beg my charge nurse to call him for me. She refuses, however we do have an impromptu practice conversation. I take notes. I gather his chart, and make sure I have current vital signs, I&Os, and lab work available.

I take a deep breath, and with shaking hands call the answering service back. I sit there and silently rehearse what I am going to say. The phone rings, and the call is transferred to me.

I ramble my rehearsed speech, my words hurried and breathless. The patient’s name, room number, admitting diagnosis, admitting physician, and why I am calling. I do not stop speaking until I get all of that out, then my voice trails off uncertainly because I do not know what to do next and I have yet to take a breath for fear that he will interrupt me.

Dr. Snape is silent on the other end for a few seconds and I am shaking with anxiety. He starts asking questions. He wants details. Not only about tonight, but about the events that have led up to tonight. Who was his surgeon? What did they find? What medications is he on? How long as he been on them? Is he fluid overloaded? Did he smoke? What did he do for a living? When was his last set of cultures drawn? What is the plan from oncology? Where is his family? What does the patient want? Does he know how sick he is? Does he have children? I am fairly certain he asked me who the man took to senior prom. (looking back, it seems that after a minute, he was testing me.)

Then, this exchange:

“What was his respiratory rate before?” I nervously double-check my notes.

2000: 22

2100: 24

2200: 22

2300: 22

0100: 24

0300: 39

I respond “Between 22 and 24.” Without skipping a beat Dr. Snape asks “Wouldn’t that be 23?”

I have been on the phone, shaking, and speaking in rapid, unsure answers for what feels like an eternity. I miss the joke. “Ummm. Yes, sir. That would indeed be 23.” The nurses are gathered in a curious and supportive circle around me. There is a titter which feeds my anxiety. I wish I were anywhere else in the world at that moment.

When Dr. Snape asks who the respiratory therapist and charge nurse are- I am so relieved. I hurriedly respond “*Nurse Ratchet, would like to speak to her?” and without waiting for an answer, I abruptly put him on hold, transfer the call, and burst into tears. I am convinced I am an utter failure. I contemplate switching careers. Then, I rush off to take care of Mr. 417. I have to transfer him to ICU. I see Dr. Snape in the unit when I am dropping off the rest of the patient’s belongings, and I avert my eyes and scurry away.

The rest of my night is a mess. I worry about my patient, and I have a ton of things to do since my routine was interrupted. I go home that morning feeling like a terrible nurse, and wondering if I am even capable of this job.

The next day, I walk into the break room at the beginning of my shift, and find this in my mailbox. *It has been edited to leave out identifying information. *IMG_7835Well, that is weird. What does this mean? Isn’t that my job? Oh, well I am flattered. Obviously. I still have it after all these years. It lives in a metal box. Along with a copy of the recommendation letter he wrote for me when I was applying for a fellowship after grad school.

This night is one of the defining moments of my career. It is the beginning of my relationship with one of my mentors. It took me years to get over being too intimidated to speak to him, but once I did, I was pleasantly surprised.

Night shift nursing brings about a completely different relationship with physicians than day shift. You typically only see physicians when there is a crisis. For many of them, they have been awake all day working, and this is the time they should be at home asleep. It makes it difficult to foster overly friendly relationships.

However, given enough time and exposure, you eventually do. Over time I learned how to be prepared for my encounters with them, and that made their job easier, which helped reduce some of the stress. I learned how to see them as people instead of doctors. I like them a lot more as people. Totally less scary.

One day, after I had been working closely with him as part of my clinical training for nurse practitioner school, I mentioned that night. He immediately remembered. He did not know it was me though.

He was an awesome teacher while I was learning how to be a mid-level. He sought out chances to challenge me, and he was quick to correct and to give me feedback on the job I was doing. Now, to be honest, I hit the jackpot when I chose preceptors. I picked them for their willingness to teach, and they all gave their time and expertise generously. I am so grateful for these physicians and nurse practitioners.

But, this is about Daddy Issues. How on earth does that apply to this nursing story. Well, duh… because it is my story. Remember me? The girl with daddy issues?

I started noticing a trend to my relationships with a few of my mentors. Especially with ******* (you know, Work Mommy) and the one who became Work Daddy. The two of them were the ones that I sought out for advice. I respected their opinions, and felt that they understood my goals and aspirations. The joke became that they were Work Mommy and Work Daddy. (Don’t worry- Work Mommy has a story too!)

Now, while it was initially a joke, I see how it is applicable. As I mentioned in Daddy Issues Part I, parents are our first mentors (or they should be, anyway) and when your mentor is also somewhat responsible for you as an employee, it is easy to see how mentorship could be similar to a parental role. These are the people I come to when I need help. They are the ones who offer guidance and recommendations for my future.

It is their opinions I trust. I feel like they have my best interests at heart when they offer me advice. I am never afraid to tell them when I do not know something, and I am not afraid to take chances and risk looking foolish for asking questions.

Mentors are so important in life. They are coaches who develop skills. They are people who are interested in how your career affects you personally. In some instances if you are lucky, they become friends.  — although, that may change if Work Daddy finds out I called him Dr. Snape.

***I would like to point out that Alan Rickman is a very commanding presence. Also, Professor Snape did kinda turn out to be a hero in the end- He always looked out for Harry, and tried to protect him. This is where the pseudonym came from.

One last thing, I am so grateful for the experiences I have had with my mentors, and I would not trade any of it for anything. Quite basically, I am a lucky girl.

 *** update. Work Daddy is no longer my employer, however he remains a treasured friend and mentor. ~10/29/2015 ♥️LQ

Who Do You Think You Are?

~ ladyquirky ~ 2 Comments

We are at the mercy of how others perceive us. We have to put our best foot forward, and present ourselves in a manner that makes us pleasant to others. Presentation is such an important part of interpersonal communication. Do I want to be seen as professional? Fun? Nice? Smart? Competent? Do I want these people to like me? Respect me? Do I even care?

For me, most of the time, I seek to been seen as competent, fun, and unique. Oh, and smart. I really work hard to learn as much as I can, and I truly value intelligence. So, how do I react when others are not so impressed by me? I lash out. I get defensive. I run away. (I mean, seriously… who needs that??? Everybody wants somebody to love.)

So, at what point does it cease being an act of running away, and more a calculated and planned change in environment? How much crap are you supposed to ignore? How do you quantify your hurt feelings? Worse, is it all you? Does this indicate that you are somehow defunct? Broken, malfunctioning?

Now, if we truly seek to be improving in our lives, as I so obviously seek to do, then we must take a moment to reflect. How much of the issue is due to your performance? How much of it is due to a personality conflict? How much of it makes no sense at all?

So, if you are failing to meet some expectation in your performance, you need to develop an action plan. There may be resources you need to utilize. Perhaps there is a knowledge deficit. Seriously, these are the easiest culprits to manage and fix. There is usually some specific behavior that you have not mastered. Okay, that is great. That says nothing about you as a person. Actually, it could speak to your willingness to learn and improve. This is where having mentors is helpful. They can guide you to the appropriate resources, and give you feedback throughout your process, allowing you to know how you are improving, and what is still missing or not correct. This relationship with your mentors will be very important. They are taking time to teach, and you have to be humble in order to accept criticism in the manner it is being offered. Criticism is simply critique, it is nothing personal. This is the best sort of problem to have. Easy to fix, as long as you are willing to do the work.

Now, for the things that are a personality conflict, you should probably analyze whether or not you are being overly difficult. (Now, this one kinda irks me- I feel like women tend to be labeled as difficult far more often than men, and I actually think that working with many men is way more difficult- they just don’t get the label.) However, it is probably something that you should evaluate. Do you allow your outside life to interfere, do your moods shift with the wind? Are you overly critical and difficult to please? Do you stop using common courtesy when speaking to others? Are you argumentative? Are you boring? Do you ignore the other person’s ideas? So, if you are difficult to get along with, you should probably take a long look at your behavior, and change the negative aspects. No one expects you to be perfect, but you do need to be nice and courteous to others. (It’s just the right thing to do.) Besides, there is a reason Thumper said “If you can’t say nothin nice, don’t say nothin at all.”

Now, in the event that someone is being mean to you for no apparent reason, you are left with a choice. Man up, confront them, and be willing to accept the consequences, or let it go. This is where it gets difficult. There is absolutely no way to change someone’s mind about how they feel about you, if it actually has nothing to do with you. This is where evaluating your part in the situation comes in handy. You have to work to change the parts you are responsible for. This is all part of trying to be a better person. You are not responsible for how others feel about you. Frankly, it is none of your business. All you can do is be the best that you can be.

So, what now? What if you are in a relationship that is leaving you feeling bad? What if you are banging your head against a wall, trying to please someone, and they just don’t care? They do not see all the good that you do, how hard you are trying? Then, you have to ask yourself why are you staying in this relationship? Any relationship should be mutually beneficial. Yes, there are ebbs and flows, but in the long run it should even out.

This is where so many friendships falter over time. As people grow and change, sometimes they outgrow each other. You see, relationships take effort. If It takes two to tango, well, it takes two to be in a relationship. One- sided relationships are not actually good for anyone. Resentment builds and grows as the injured party becomes passive aggressive and then both people end up hurting.

Mentors can help in so many areas. I would think that they are generally someone older and wiser, who have something about life figured out. You can have professional mentors, mentors for your marriage, heck, you can even have people you look up to for advice on all your relationships. It is always helpful to be seeking enlightenment, and trying to be better. Be more. Do more.

So, as long as you are willing to do the work, and to look at yourself and your part in any relationship, then you are on a path of enrichment.

Do not allow hurt feelings to rule your actions. Take a step back and evaluate the situation. If the relationship is important to you, then you need to work it out. If it is not important to you, is it actually worth all the stress? Should you break free and run? Walk out with purpose? Glare accusingly at the person who “ran you off?” Probably not. You should never burn bridges. You should always leave the door open for reconciliation.

Knowing when it is time to say goodbye:

I have no idea how you know when it is right. I have no clue as to how to quantify your emotions. I do know that you have to take care of yourself, and keep your goals and dreams as a priority. It is okay if those goals change over time. We are in a constant state of evolution, and as we evolve and grow our goals should too. There is no shame in moving on.

Another Turning Point

~ ladyquirky ~ 1 Comment

It is interesting when you imagine all the decisions you make, as being turning points. Intersections. If you are lucky, there is a four-way stop enabling you to take a deep breath and analyze the choices.

I have made a decision to really devote some time to learning more about writing. I want to learn more about grammar, organization, and how to edit and refine my thoughts into a cohesive piece. Yes, I love my rambling musings, but I do not just want to write a diary. I want to learn to write with purpose. Even if the purpose is simply to entertain. (If you read my blog, you are aware I have a lot to learn.)

This is proving to be the thing that was missing from my life. A goal that was not centered firmly in my career. Now, don’t get me wrong. I love my career. I love my job. Remember, it is the job. However, in order to feel like I am a whole person, I need to foster outside interests. I need an avenue where I have unlimited potential, and where I will reap what I sow. I keep coming back to a common theme in my life. I want to be an artist. Now, considering that I have zero artistic talent, I should probably not set my sights on being the next Picasso.

So, what is the point? Why is this important enough to be mentioned in this blog?

Well, this blog has given me an outlet. Something that has infinite potential, and that can grow with me as I hone my craft. (That sounds rather self-important… Nyki, you are sounding like an asshole.) Well, surely you get my drift. It all sounds so serious. But, seriously, it is just so much fun. I am so excited to learn a new form of expression.

Here it is. I need something I can work on. I need to find a concrete avenue for my thoughts. I need to be more of a person. I cannot simply focus on the day-to-day life. I need goals and dreams. So, here goes nothing. I am going to work on this “hobby,” and see what I can accomplish. Maybe if I am lucky, I will manage to improve and write something worthwhile. Not too shabby of a goal.

Maybe I am Naive

~ ladyquirky ~ Leave a comment

What was the best part of childhood? Was it having someone to take care of you? Lavish birthday parties with lots of toys? The magic of Santa and The Easter Bunny?

For me, it was knowing that if I tried hard enough, gave everything I had to give, it would be enough. As an adult, I finally understood why they make participation trophy’s for kids.

Not being recognized sucks.

I do not identify as a feminist. I have always felt that everyone gets a fair chance, and that if they do their job good enough, they will be recognized and compensated for their successes. I did not understand that discrimination does not only affect accolades. When a woman is judged harshly for having a strong personality, or for having the audacity to question a male counterpart, it speaks volumes to the complaining parties feelings about a woman’s role in the workforce.

Despite the disparity between the number of women vs men in nursing, there seems to be a propensity for men to advance faster, and to be publicly recognized more freely. Men are often excused for abrasive behavior, as it is seen as decisive and confident; while women are seen as obstinate or bossy. There is an element of denial about the sexist nature of labeling women in this manner. Women are frequently judged by how others perceive their volume, body language, and tone of voice. These women are somehow expected to be able to anticipate how every contact views proper decorum for a female.

The differences between the sexes persist even into performance reviews. Men are frequently given constructive criticism that includes specific details for areas of improvement on their actual job performance. While women receive criticism, however, it is frequently geared towards their personality. Women are described as abrasive, bossy, aggressive, emotional, and irrational. Women also are more likely to receive feedback on their lack of these traits as well. They receive praise for being easy-going, friendly, and nurturing.

I find it disturbing that a woman can perform her job duties well, even exceed expectations and still be at risk for negative evaluations based on her personality. The issue becomes even more confounded if she is in a position where people are openly hostile or ignore her attempts to discuss opposing viewpoints. It seems that women are expected to blindly follow the lead of the men they work with, and still try to earn the respect of the rest of the team.

Men are praised and recognized as natural leaders when they speak out and offer alternative solutions to problems. This is the sign of a true leader. The alpha male. The strong provider.

This is reminiscent of the whole “be seen, not heard” mentality of the past. I am not from that generation. I grew up listening to female rockers scream about how their intricate personalities are a force to be reckoned with.

I am in trouble because I was not born with a penis. Men can throw chairs, yell at nurses, and in general throw a fit. I question the appropriateness of an intervention, and I am unprofessional. I am essentially dismissed. Is it because I am not a doctor? I don’t think so. It is because “the little girl argued with my manly plan.” Yes, there is most likely a more diplomatic way to handle things, and I was willing to admit that.

Now, I am left with a job that I am unable to perform to the best of my capability. I am being underutilized. I am not part of the team, my input is not welcome. I am their secretary, or I can hit the road. Guess what? The road looks mighty fine from here.

 

Frankly My Dear, I Don’t Give a Damn about My Bad Reputation

~ ladyquirky ~ Leave a comment

I was never a feminist. I found the fight for equal pay and affirmative action boring and distasteful. I did not want to admit that women are held to a different standard than men. I honestly believed that the world was fair, and that in The United States- everyone had the same shot. Also, I had a negative mental image of what I imagine a militant feminist to be.

However, I googled the term. It is simply a theory of political, social, and economic equality between the sexes. Turns out, it has nothing to do with refusing to shave your underarms. I recently figured out that my status as a woman- more specifically, a young woman is actually acting against me in my professional life. Now, throw another wrench into the mess. I am a fat, single mother, who happens to be… just a nurse practitioner.

Yes. You heard me right. I am NOT a doctor. I did not go to medical school. I never wore the short white coat. Believe me, I kick myself on a regular basis for not achieving this level of education. I find it appalling that I did not graduate from college until I was 27 years old. I am horrified by the fact that I have to take medication to slow my thoughts down enough that I can focus on the task at hand. People assume that they can tear me down, and I assure you- I have torn myself to pieces for years, and there is nothing they can say that shocks me- or even worse, that I have not said to myself.

Apparently, in the eyes of some folks, I also happen to have been born without a very important appendage. A penis.

I must have missed school on the day that they taught charm. Apparently, I am an abrasive bitch who has the audacity to speak her mind- even if it differs from the man standing in front of me. I have had physicians completely ignore me and seek the counsel of the nearest man standing. Never mind that I actually knew what I was talking about.

Oh, no. She forgot her penis. She must not have anything valuable to add. Let us forget the fact that I have made it my mission to learn and remember what each of the physicians I work for expect and prefer when it comes to patient care. I have to switch back and forth every week- all depending on who is in the unit that week. It is maddening.

I am left to wonder how a woman can possibly be expected to sound confident, yet remain demure. I perhaps come across as mercurial. Difficult to manage. Disruptive. However, I would like to point out that I am frequently the one who is focusing on the minutia of the moment. I do have a flaw. I am absolutely unable to fulfill my duties as a sycophant. I struggle with being quiet when I see information that does not appear to be on the table. I struggle with not asking “why?” when I do not understand the plan of care. I fear that this could be seen as insubordination, when in all actuality- I am seeking knowledge to facilitate stronger clinical skills on my part.

My role is often quite hermetic. The isolation of being the only person in a particular role within a large group of healthcare providers is profound. I am not one of the doctors. I am also not one of the nurses. I no longer work in MICU, however, I am only in the office sometimes. I am simply an object that is passed around. Passed to whichever nurse or medical assistant gets stuck with me. I am frequently an afterthought- or an inconvenience that must be dealt with. I think that I felt adrift. Cast out. So, I inadvertently sought to find a place of familiarity. A lighter, easier tone. I needed some of the formalities to lighten up. I needed a level playing field. That was a mistake. Through my attempts to cope with a difficult situation- I unintentionally diminished the professional courtesy that my superiors had earned.

I frequently have nurses choose not to speak to me or answer if I ask a question. I have overheard people say “Oh, Nyki ordered that- not the doctor. That is why I did not do it.” There is a nurse manager who frequently berates me and demands explanations for things that are quite simply beyond my control. She finds it appropriate to speak of our team in disparaging tones anytime they are out of earshot. It is funny, I worked for her for over 7 years- and yet, I have ridden up the elevator with her on more than one occasion with her glaring at me in stony silence.

I should have known there was going to be trouble even before I started. I had been warned. There were so many people who doubted my ability to succeed in this role in this Multidisciplinary team. I did not know that many people viewed my role as that of a scribe. I have actually been told on more than one occasion that is essentially what I am. I sincerely believed that if I read enough, and tried to adapt to each individuals preferences that I could overcome these obstacles. I honestly thought I would earn their respect. I simply wanted to be viewed as a competent healthcare provider- who was well aware of her limitations. I was not prepared for the incongruous actions of displaying both competent and “humble” attitudes.

Another interesting caveat of my “mid-level” role… I am torn between the need to shield the doctors I work for from mundane tasks, and trivial matters, while also acting as the easy to approach friend of the nurses. I never gave it much thought until I realized that I was being attacked on all fronts. I think the moment of clarity was when I was asked if I felt betrayed. My initial response was no. That had not occurred to me. Until I realized that perhaps I had been betrayed. Set up. Essentially lied about. Okay, perhaps not lies… but, exaggerations. Which has left me in the position that I cannot defend myself. Because I am not perfect. I am high-strung. I do talk over people sometimes. I get excited. I am so sorry that I am passionate about my job.

I should have known that stepping into a different role with my former employers would be difficult. I think I underestimated my abilities to charm the serpents. My inability to have a candid conversation with the majority of people with whom I work for and with has left me without an anchor. I am quite simply afraid now. I fear that will inhibit my ability to act as a patient advocate. It is funny, writing this was supposed to get me all fired up and ready to hop on a feminist band wagon. I am afraid it is doing the opposite. Perhaps the master manipulator was right. I am not the right person for this job. I actually kinda think there is no right person for this job. I do not know how one person can bend and live up to every single fucking person on earth’s expectations. Don’t forget, it is not only how well you do your job… it is also based on whether or not each person happens to like your personality.

I never dreamed that it would be a crime to be outspoken. Never in my wildest imagination did I envision being told to be quiet. I was raised in a time that outspoken, strong-willed women were all the rage. Remember the song Bitch? It was an anthem for young girls like me. And, now… I am faced with a choice. Be a sycophant or lose my livelihood. No. It is just not fair.

How does a woman earn the respect of her male counterparts? How do I influence the world and leave my mark- if I am being hushed? Is it a crime to want your ideas to be spoken? How do I succeed when it seems that no one in the world wants me to? Do I have to trade companionship and camaraderie for professional accolades? It’s true. You really can’t have it all.