Michelle The Hussy presents SyntheticBliss

I don’t give a fuck what you say, I think Sum 41’s “Screaming Bloody Murder” is a badass song.

I really wish I could answer most questions with “because you’re a fucking twit.” I think that would really be the most helpful thing at this point.

I don’t think I’m ever going to be okay.  No matter how long I’ve been clean for, or how many days since my last episode, I always have the persistent thoughts running through my brain and they’re so hard to manage.  I’m sick of smiling and nodding and pretending to be normal when on the inside I’m just screaming and clawing at my skin and thinking that it would be so much easier to go do a bunch of drugs and forget about my whole life.  Like if I could just manage to stay in that little sliver of conciousness between being fucked out of your head and unconcious, I’d be so much better off.  I know the drugs and the eating disorders and the self-harm was just a crutch, but goddamn, I miss that kind of support.

And I can’t figure out how to respond to replies on here using my phone so don’t think I’m a giant bag of bitch.

So my father-in-law needs a bone marrow transplant because he has cancer.

And I can’t cry yet because I have to hold this shit together for a little longer.

So I just realized that the only people who flirt me these days are my patients. Not even my husband wants to hit this. Fuck.

I hate this.

I think I need a fill-in husband for when Brad’s at work. So I’m currently taking applications for someone to mess up the house, whine constantly, and not fuck me. Any takers?

So over the past few months I’ve been putting my resume in for a lot of different positions.  I love working with seniors, but I’m just not being challenged enough right now.  So I applied on surgical units, acute medicine units, as well as ER, ICU/CCU, and just about every RN position that doesn’t involve working with children.  I’ve had a couple of interviews, and things are looking up.

But last week I got a call from the ICU. The manager looked at my resume, liked what she saw, and wants me to come in this week for an interview.

This is the chance of a lifetime.  It is incredibly for new grads to get interviews for these kinds of jobs unless you did your preceptorship (final practicum) there, so when I submitted my resume I just assumed it was going to get thrown aside.  But she actually wants to have me come in, so I’m super psyched.  This is like being drafted for the NHL (yes, I’m Canadian, so there’s the gratuitious hockey reference).  If I get the job, I’ll be working a lot more, it’ll be stressful as fuck, and I’ll probably hate life for about a year.  But it’ll make me an incredible nurse.  Just having the opportunity to go in for an interview is awesome, but actually getting the position means I can die happy.  And everybody who said I was too stupid to be a nurse and should have given up can kiss the fattest part of my ass.

Now I’m just rambling because I’m too excited for the interview and then there’s the outdoor hockey game tomorrow which is going to be AMAZING (partialy because of the massive fashion faux pas I will be).

quiyst:

Knowing all the future regrets I’ll have because of paths not taken terrifies me.

Things are changing.

So today, I managed to offend a bunch of people on Twitter because I muted someone who I find to be a judgemental dick. Someone pointed out that I, too, am always mocking the Internet vernacular (guilty. I have a hate-on for <3s and words like “besties” and “tweeps”) which then resulted in a lot of passive aggressive bitching. And normally I’d be upset about this because I can’t stand anyone to be upset with me due to my constant need to please everyone stemming from years of childhood abuse (yay for run-on sentences!). But this time, it just made me laugh. Because I just don’t care anymore. It doesn’t make any difference to me whether I’ve got people cheering or cursing me, because I love myself. Not going to lie, I think I’m pretty badass at life. I’m a damn awesome nurse who loves every disgusting moment and adrenaline rush from what I do. I’ve turned into a pretty lovely woman who is smart as hell, sassy and snarky, and generally pretty awesome. My grandparents and aunt would be so proud of me today, and that makes me smile. And while I’m not the prettiest girl, I can still turn a head or two.

I’ve lived so long feeling that my life wasn’t my own. I’ve been abused, neglected, and fucked over by almost everyone in my life that I lost sight of who I am. I’ve sold my body to feel loved and found solace in chemicals made in someone’s garage just to feel something. So now here I am, almost 26 years old, and I finally feel that the world belongs to me. My life is my own.

So no, I won’t apologize. Or feel upset that there’s some people out there who aren’t loving me. Fuck them, I’m awesome, and I’m the only opinion who matters anymore. My best friends from a lifetime ago have and always will love me, and I have the undying respect of my family. That’s all I need.