There’s a lot happening lately, and it all carries a surprisingly good vibe — even if it might sound smaller on paper than it feels to me.
The Wasteland, of course, continues to be its chaotic and wonderful self. I’ve always had a squad — or maybe more accurately, I’ve been part of one that seems to expand the more I play. My regular Twitch streams have brought new players into the fold, and over time we’ve built something that feels like a real community. It’s funny how much that has lifted my mood. My enjoyment of the game has skyrocketed, and with it, my sense of hope that things are truly beginning to get better.
Learning to Celebrate Small Victories
One thing I’ve had to learn — often the hard way — is the importance of small victories. Life isn’t measured in leaps and bounds anymore; it’s the tiny, steady steps that matter.
Over the past few months, I’ve seen some long-overdue progress on my disability claims, including student loan forgiveness. That, honestly, has been one of the biggest wins yet. It means stability — being able to function without trying to hold down a job that would inevitably push my health past its limits. It’s a strange mix of relief and disbelief.
Finding My Voice Again
Recently, a friend invited me to help teach a class of new nurses about caring for complex patients and navigating the realities of the profession. Being trusted to speak again, professionally, hit me harder than I expected.
After everything that’s happened — my health issues, the fallout with my career — I’ve carried a lot of self-doubt. I know, logically, that my judgment and skills are still valid, but there’s always that voice whispering otherwise. So to be asked, to be trusted, reminded me that there are still people who see value in what I bring.
Part of my presentation focused on what it’s like to live with PTSD and rely on a service dog — not as a clinician, but as a human being. It was raw, but necessary. I spoke about how PTSD shaped my practice and how it deepened my empathy. Providers often shy away from acknowledging their own struggles, as though admitting vulnerability makes them less credible. But one of my former bosses once said something that stuck with me:
“The moment you pretend you’re impervious, you lose credibility.”
She was right. Authenticity doesn’t weaken us; it makes us better at understanding others.
2 A.M. Thoughts
Anxiety still wins more rounds than I’d like. A friend posted something recently that made me laugh — mostly because it hit too close to home:
“Me: I’m going to bed at a decent time.
My anxiety and insomnia: The eff you are. How about we be wide awake and relive every embarrassing moment of your life?”
That’s me, every night around 2 a.m. — which, ironically, is also when one of the worst traumas of my life happened. I was assaulted at that hour back in 1991, and since then, I rarely sleep through it. It’s become this strange, unspoken ritual of wakefulness. Sometimes it’s better, sometimes worse, but it never really leaves.
Back to the Wasteland
Through it all, the Wasteland remains my creative refuge — a place where I can build, play, and breathe. The constant hum of radiation, the weird camaraderie, the absurd missions — it all reminds me that joy can coexist with pain.
And always, through every cycle of hope and exhaustion, there’s the love of my dog and the memory of my mom — the two constants that never fail me.