Hello, fellow earth dwellers (and accidental trespassers from other galaxies who have stumbled upon this blog)! It’s Tina here, navigating the complex obstacle course also known as life, armed with a stethoscope and a slightly sarcastic sense of humor. They say life is all about perspective, and boy do I have a story that proves that point! Let me whisper a tale of how a few seemingly innocent words turned my world into a sitcom – and not the fun, laugh-track kind. 

Has anyone here ever had the experience where expressing a simple feeling set off a chain reaction that caused a dozen people to morph into tightrope walkers around you? No? Just me? Well, grab a beverage of choice and settle in, because I’ve got a story for you.

It all started when I felt like I was being singled out at work. You know that feeling when everyone starts watching your every move and treading lightly around you? That was my reality. I just wanted a calm, stable environment where I didn’t feel picked on or like I was part of some big setup. Is that really too much to ask?

Picture this: you’re just trying to express a tiny bit of human emotion in your quest for an stress-free and stable work environment. “I feel singled out,” I said, probably as casually as one would mention the weather or the fact that pineapple on pizza is seriously underrated. No sooner had those words left my mouth, it was like everyone around me put on kid gloves and began to tiptoe, afraid that saying “good morning” might shatter my delicate psyche. Spoiler alert: it won’t—I promise, I won’t crumble like a cookie under a toddler’s stampede.

The worst part is, I think they’re doing it because they just want to avoid hearing my “mouth” or dealing with the “problem” that is me. Maybe they think if they give me what I want, I’ll just shut up and go away. Well, let me tell you, that’s not how this Tina operates. I’m not looking for special treatment or to get anyone fired. I just want to be treated fairly and have a little peace and quiet, is that too much to ask?

Here’s the thing; I’m not here to dictate anyone’s life choices—your cookies, your crumbs, your choice. My quest is basic: go to work, pay bills, and maybe forge some good friendships along the way. If it happens, fantastic! If not, I’ll console myself with chocolate and Netflix. Honestly, I think I rank somewhere between “not the Florence Nightingale reincarnate” and “definitely not Doctor Doom” on the nursing scale. Maybe it’s my fantastical daydream that everyone gets along in harmony, handing out smiles like Oprah giving out cars, but hey, I’m fully aware that’s not reality.

I’m not the best nurse out there, but I’m certainly not the worst either. I show up, I try to do my job, and I try my best to be a team player wanting to be trained everywhere i can possibly be trained. Is that so hard to understand? Apparently, for some people, it is. 

As a nurse, it’s never about wishing someone to lose their job—everyone’s carrying their own family-pack baggage of responsibilities, and I get that. I’m no villain plotting world domination; just a regular person with a heart wishing to be understood rather than judged since, trust me, life tosses me enough challenges even without that. Some days, my head’s at sea because life outside these hospital walls is as calm as a cat during bath time. Mix-ups? Oh, I’m the queen! So much so, that if there were mess-up awards, I’d have a whole shelf.

In spite of my imperfections (including my tendency to forget where I put my coffee mug), I’ve got a heart that’s as soft as a toddler’s cheek. My intentions are as pure as the driven snow, yet somehow, people misinterpret me. I’ve got labels slapped on my back like I’m a soup can at the supermarket. What I really want is the chance to learn, to grow, and to escape this Groundhog Day loop where everyone’s watching me like I have a Vegas-style act about to unfold.

Sometimes, it feels like I’m in my own real-life mystery where someone is secretly investigating me—cue the dramatic music. Perhaps it’s just paranoia, but the vibe is all kinds of awkward. When people avoid speaking freely, and I overthink every returned glance, it’s hard not to feel like there’s a huge blinking sign reading “Problem Child” above my head. And that’s not the title I applied for.

Am I considered a “challenge” because I asked for fairness? I ponder, should I have just kept my head down? Shrinking into a shadow isn’t exactly my style, but neither is being the unwelcome spotlight hog. Perhaps nursing isn’t my ultimate calling if it means navigating political hurricanes, dodging backstabbers, and dancing around secret dramas like I’m on some twisted TV reality show.

I mean, plot twists and cliffhangers may work well for daytime television, but in the world of nursing? Not so much.

In the end, it’s a dog-eat-dog world out there, and I’m just trying not to be the chew toy. Will I continue to be misunderstood, or maybe one day, will I find that blissful place of acceptance where the coffee is always hot and the atmosphere rife with compassion? Only time will tell. Until that day, I’ll keep my chin up, my humor handy, and my spirit unbroken.

Stay strong, and never lose sight of your own light!

Keep it real (and slightly chaotic),

Tina 🌟