tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35204871746809714452024-03-08T02:18:07.216-08:00My wordRaegan :)http://www.blogger.com/profile/15989776141668527002noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520487174680971445.post-9792666787999331802023-09-25T11:38:00.003-07:002023-09-25T11:38:42.903-07:00Your Pinterest Quote of an Excuse<p> Them: “But it feels like YOU'RE replacing me” </p><div>Me: “Oh no no no I would never, I could never, you’re my…”</div><div><br /></div><div>Something you always needed confirmation for, yet it should have been something I asked instead. Throughout all those years I never expected to be replaced or dropped so instantaneously. You always made it seem like I would be the one to move on without you, if anything. No matter what people told me about you, our frienship, I never let that alter my view of you. I guess sometimes we make wrong assumptions of people. It doesn’t feel good to see you moving on so easily. Having someone just fill my spot and going on as though we never even met. I understand why you feared that loss... being on the other end is hurtful and hard. The sad part is I saw it coming a few weeks before, but I thought I was being ridiculous and decided not to believe myself. My second guesses have always been wrong, but I truly felt I was right this time. Every sign I should have taken with more consideration. </div><div><br /></div><div>The pictures felt like a public statement.</div><div>The captions felt intentionally directed.</div><div>The lack of communication felt purposeful.</div><div>The vanishing support felt like a way for you to slowly start your departure from my life.</div><div>The pitiful birthday dinner debocal felt like a bad lie.</div><div>The final appearance of us together felt like an easy cover up for you.</div><div><br /></div><div>It’s mind boggling that even your NEW best friend seems to be in on the torturous mind games. The sudden snaps of maps from Oklahoma to your house. The pictures sent to my brother via snap by her. Why did these small inconveniences matter so much to you, when you already called it quits?</div><div><br /></div><div>I told myself not to reach out to you, but I couldn’t help but feel the need to try. I sent you a card and two bags of your favorite candy. I never heard from you. Did you get it? Open it? Even read my card?</div><div><br /></div><div>It feels like none of this affected you. Do you ever think about our friendship? Do pictures pop up? Can you still listen to the songs we used to dance to, sing to? Do you still enjoy getting breakfast at chiloso? Watching dances being performed? Texting in group chats we are both in? </div><div><br /></div><div>I want to end with a few quotes that I read recently that remind me of what you did.</div><div>"I wonder if we ever think of each other at the same time"</div><div>"You have no idea how badly I want your name to pop up on my phone"</div><div>"I wish you knew how bad it fucked me up"</div><div>"The only thing worse than losing you is knowing you did nothing to keep me"</div><div>"I miss the nights we used to just stay up and talk about everything"</div><div>"What a plot twist you were"</div><div>"And now you're just s stranger with all my secrets"</div><div>"Does it even bother you that we don't talk anymore?"</div><div><br /></div><div>I thank you for ending our friendship with a beautiful Pinterest quote:</div><div>"Some friendships are meant to last seasons, and some are meant to last forever. Ours was not meant to last forever."</div><div><br /></div><div>While I am still confused on how you came to your conclusion, and I do not agree with your reasoning, all I can do is write about it and move on. I hope that one day, before it is too late, you'll see this was a mistake. </div>Raegan :)http://www.blogger.com/profile/15989776141668527002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520487174680971445.post-4009411532541894082023-09-25T11:27:00.002-07:002023-09-25T11:48:26.265-07:00If A Silent Lover Could Speak<p>Written on 11/28/2022</p><p>Oh the things I wish I could say. The way that you encapsulate my mind every second leaves me sitting through my classes without a single scribble on the page, even driving around the city forgetting which way is right and which is left. How do you do that thing? That thing where you make me feel like nothing else matters. That thing where when my phone buzzes I hope that it is you, but as soon as I see your name I get that funny feeling like I should be nervous. That thing where when I feel scared I make myself feel obligated to tell you everything because you make me feel better. You make me feel good. You make me feel the sun in the sky through the dark cloudy days. You make the storms refreshing and the puddles endless mirrors that hold importance. You create symbolic meaning for everyday objects so that when I see them, I think of you. My life used to be managed by the sunrise and set. Everyday I hoped I could see it again the next day. The sun's clockwork was my timer. You make the sunrises in the morning the wake up call that never fails to greet me, and the sunsets the goodnight wishes I never have to ask for. I always tell the people I love that we are never far, because I am in their heart, and if they go outside to look at the starry night sky, we see the same stars. But I do not feel that is the same as the lasting impact you have made. </p><p>When we are together and we subconsciously intertwine, do you feel what I do? Do you feel like never letting go? As our ligaments tie together, they create this knot that cannot be broken. As the fabric of our clothing rubs through one another, that feeling is absorbed. When your hand touches the buried scars of mine, I no longer squeeze the knives I once held, but embrace yours instead. You are the relief I always longed to hold. You are the stuffed animals I would tightly grasp as a kid when I hid in my closet to cry, and you have sat next to me. You have sat and listened to me cry in this small dark room. Doing what I thought was only possible for my fictional friends. I always felt comfortable in the dark because no one could see me, and they would never come in to find me. "The dark is a scary place to be" most would say. The dark didn't scare me, in fact, it wasn't somewhere I chose to be, but it is where I wondered to and felt safe. When I turned back and couldn't find my way out, I thought I would be stuck in there forever and I was alright with that. But you came in to sit with me, and when I was comfortable you lit the match that allowed me to see myself again, and others too. The journey leaving the dark is scary, but you always match my pace. I am grateful I did not lose myself in the dark before you came. All of life's beauties are more gorgeous because of you.</p><p>If a silent lover could speak, these were the things they would hope that they could say to you. They would want to outwardly shower you in love and admiration. Give back all that they could until their bodies bled dry. But in this life, a silent lover never speaks, not even a whisper. In another life, maybe they'll gain the courage to speak. Until then, they shall love from afar. Wonder what you could have been, and forever search for the feeling you gave them. </p>Raegan :)http://www.blogger.com/profile/15989776141668527002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520487174680971445.post-66653944104220817362022-07-14T11:35:00.002-07:002022-07-14T11:50:13.991-07:00This was a prompt and I answered it<p>Growing up I was always the kid who wanted to be the first to try everything. Why? First, because I was the oldest and I had to make sure whatever we were attempting was safe for my younger brother, and second I was not afraid. I wanted to try everything I could in this life because it seemed fun. However, as I've grown older, I have kept this trait, but it has a different purpose behind it. I go first to protect the ones I love because I would rather be in pain than someone I love, and I try everything because life is too short not to try. I have fears like everyone, but I don't allow those fears to take over my choices and actions. Learning more about being a Marine from my dad- it is clear who I got these traits from. He has been a huge mentor in my life for as long as I can remember. From coaching my 6-year-old rec basketball team making us run lines and learn to discipline ourselves as individuals and as a team-holding one another accountable, to helping me establish little goals in elementary school of selling duct tape bows to my classmates, to helping me prepare for drill team leadership interviews, to giving me advice for how to handle a bully, to showing me how to be grateful and motivated during a pandemic- then jumping out of an airplane with me on my 18th birthday, to cheering for me when I have applied for internships and failed countless times, he has taught me so much. He has taught me how to love, protect, and care for people. He has taught me how to fight, be courageous, and brave. He has taught me how to be relentless in the face of adversity and to love failure. With all of these mixed, he has made me a working machine, in the best way. I will always try, I will never give up, and unfortunately I sometimes look forward to failing. Knowing my goals that I have set for myself going to college would benefit me immensely. While I say no one influenced me to go to school-deep down so many people did. I thank my dad for being a marine and teaching me these traits, but I ultimately thank my Nana Cherie for inspiring me to go to school. I want to make a change in the world, and I want to leave an impact. I remember I wanted my Nana to see me walk the stage and graduate high school, and she did. My first month at college she passed away, and it was an extremely difficult time in my life that was not soon to pass. Looking back from where I am now, it makes me proud to say I have climbed mountains to get where I am, and it makes me anticipate the future looking up knowing I'm not even halfway there. I know she watches over me as I maneuver my way through this crazy life and I hope I can make her proud. While I wish she could see the person I have become, I can't wait to show her what I can do. I can't wait to prove everyone who has doubted and continues to doubt me wrong, and I can't wait to keep pushing.</p>Raegan :)http://www.blogger.com/profile/15989776141668527002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520487174680971445.post-72670398521750707392022-06-26T12:33:00.001-07:002022-06-26T12:33:20.343-07:00Fish Tears<p>I am sitting here at Hope Harbor lifeguarding on a Sunday, crying about my fish Aphroditis. She was the sweetest fish ever, and I loved her so so much. Unfortunately, she passed away a couple of weeks ago due to a bacterial infection. She died while I was on vacation, so I never got the proper goodbye- and to make things even worse... it was her birthday. I don't know what brought on this sudden sadness other than the fact that I was looking for a new animal to take down to college with me. Of course, I don't want another fish because it feels like I am replacing her, so I have been looking at alternatives. I am upset thinking about the fact that I will not get to drive with her anymore. Taking her down to school with me, and letting her travel with me everywhere I go. Aphroditis loved the song Gucci Flip Flops and was a fan of LED lights. She loved all kinds of music, and car rides, and every morning she would greet me at the side of her tank. When I first bought her, she wasn't the prettiest fish. She was small and white with a light red spot on her side. I bought her color-enhancing food so that she could have more saturated colors. It eventually worked, and when she was fully grown she was a light red, almost pinkish, color with blue tints. Her fins were way longer than they were when I first got her, and she was gorgeous. Anyways, I am glad I had the opportunity to have a fish like her, and that she went with me through my first semester at Collin and my first semester at Baylor. She sat in the bathroom with me, unwillingly- but I know she would have sat there anyways, while I balled my eyes out in my bathroom, while I had panic attacks and cried on the bathroom floor, while I sang horribly in the shower, and she even watched me try to pick out outfits for the school day. It seems dumb to cry over a fish. They are such small and insignificant creatures because there are so many of them. But coming from a hard year in school, I bought her. She watched and helped me evolve and grow from a tough year into who I am now, and I believe she played a small role in that. I miss and love you so much Aphro, and even though I called you not pretty when I first got you- I don't legit mean it, because I wouldn't have bought you if I thought so. Rest In Peace, love Rae.</p>Raegan :)http://www.blogger.com/profile/15989776141668527002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520487174680971445.post-82529719267045876652022-06-24T08:58:00.002-07:002022-06-24T08:59:34.945-07:00Flawed sounded weird after a while of writing this<p>I am flawed. Just like everyone, I have parts of myself I do not like and things I am working on changing. </p><p>I am flawed. I overthink. I think of every possibility to before making a decision, which means it takes me longer than most to come to a conclusion. I think of every good outcome, and every bad consequence. So I scare myself away from people.</p><p>I am flawed. I am hard on myself. I don't let myself get by on any excuses, and I hold myself to such a high standard that it hurts me to not let loose every once in a while.</p><p>I am flawed. I am a perfectionist. If I envision something in my head, then it must come out the exact way that I imagined it. </p><p>I am flawed. I try to put others before myself, always. Except, I tend to fail quite often at that- being that I don't have enough time in the day to cater to all my peoples needs.</p><p>I am flawed. I don't take good enough care of my body. I don't go to bed at a decent time, and I wake up early for work. I take showers to keep myself clean- but most of the time that is the extent of my nighttime routine.</p><p>I am flawed. When I look in the mirror I do not like what I see. Both physically and morally, when I stare at my reflection I do not see the human I wish to be, but what I always hoped I'd never be.</p><p>I am flawed. I cry by myself because I do not want others comfort. I long to be loved truly by all peoples in my life, but they only see a piece of it, because I hide when I am vulnerable.</p><p>I am flawed. I am flawed. I am flawed.</p><p>I am flawed because I just wrote a post about a few things I don't like about myself, but I would be the ultimate hype man for others so that they wouldn't have to write something like this.</p><p>I am flawed because while this was going to be a truthful post, it isn't. </p><p>I am flawed because this is a half truthful post but I just said it wasn't truthful.</p><p>I am flawed because I am human, and that is ok. </p><p>I am perfect because I make mistakes and because I am flawed.</p><p>I am perfect because every dent has shaped me.</p><p>6-24-2022</p>Raegan :)http://www.blogger.com/profile/15989776141668527002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520487174680971445.post-69074670140214024882022-06-21T20:00:00.001-07:002022-06-21T20:00:30.308-07:00the question.I hate being asked that question. I hate it with every fiber in my body. Being asked that question makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up perfectly straight, it makes the water I just drank bubble and boil inside my body, it makes me turn red and release steam from my ears, it makes me absolutely furious. I won't bother going into depth about this question, nor will I state what that question is. I will, however, explain why it makes me so angry. I am not typically one to ponder on emotions or let my emotions steer my life. Easily I can detach myself from how I am feeling and make myself forget other times. That seems like a bad trait to have, or at least that is what most people tell me, and sense they are my friends I choose to believe them, but it also helps me in certain situations. Being someone who doesn't like to talk to others about how they feel, unless they are happy or excited, means that I can aid and assist myself when I need me the most. If I am sad, I can get myself out of the hole, and within minutes make myself feel better. It's a technique I started to use for myself when I became numb to any feelings a little over a year ago. Riding those feelings makes me feel good and strong about myself, but it also makes me not have to feel the heartache that comes along with my emotions. Not only do I do this when I am sad- but I also do it when I get angry. While anger isn't as easily controlled by my technique, it helps me to implode instead of explode. Which again, some of my friends see this as a bad thing, but I see it as good, being that I never take anything out on other people. I found that when I would every so often talk to someone about my feelings there were pros and cons. The pros being it felt relieving to talk about it and get it out, the cons being I felt ashamed that I told someone my feelings, I was anxious that they would tell someone (even if I trusted them), and it made me feel nervous afterward. Getting my emotions out doesn't mean I have to talk to someone about it- it just means I get to handle my emotions how I would like. If I feel like talking to someone I can just write it down or I can talk to myself and motivate myself to get up and keep going. Which then leads me into another complicated part fo my brain. I feel like my brain is split perfectly in half. Meaning I could be upset, but I can also be my own mentor through those hard times. Sometimes this confuses me, because now that I can point out that's what I am doing, I feel like I am contradicting myself. All this to say- there is a lot that goes on in my head. When I am asked the question. It hurts me, and I don't know how to coupe at all. I'm not able to push that emotion away, and my anger and sadness only goes away with time. It's like this feeling that is buried deep within myself in a stone covered shell, wrapped in wires, that has been there so long it refuses to move. It feels like this unknown identity almost within myself. <b>Not that this question is true, but it feels like my answer to this question is covered by my appearances, and that there is no way I can prove myself.</b> I wish I knew how to accept this question when it is asked so that I can answer appropriately and not be so upset, but I can't, because I refuse to talk to anyone because of the anxiety it brings me.<div><br /></div><div>6-21-2022</div>Raegan :)http://www.blogger.com/profile/15989776141668527002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520487174680971445.post-33977342465680732312022-05-31T08:48:00.002-07:002022-05-31T08:48:59.888-07:00Giving UpI was bike riding with my dad the other day as our form of physical activity for the day last Saturday. We biked 3.5 miles to the junior high, got off our bikes, ran a mile, did 100 crunches, got back on the bikes, and started our trek home. The running was the easy part. Going back home, we had to maneuver uphill for about 2 miles. We had a goal of completing this all in 45 minutes. As we are biking back we hit a cross in the road where we are having to wait for cars to pass by, of course this is right before we start going uphill. Before we crossed the street my dad looked back at me and said, "Raegan this hill is going to be like other things you face in your life. It's going to be hard and its going to suck, but you keep pushing until you get to the end. Maybe you're going to want to give up or maybe you'll get too tired, but you keep pushing". It was so motivational and it really go me in the zone, and then I realized I began to take this little bike ride work out a little too serious and smiled a little. We began our journey uphill, and it wasn't;t as brutal as I was expecting. It was a little rough since my bike only had a few gears on it, but in the end when we made it home at 43 minutes, it was worth it. Not only did I feel good about completing our workout, but we set a goal and accomplished it. I feel like nowadays, more than ever, we find ourselves giving up so fast. If we find ourselves not enjoying something, or we find something to hard- we are so quick to give up and move on. I too am guilty of this. Bike riding with my dad was a great reminder of holding myself accountable, and it brought back my motivation to work that I had been missing for the past couple weeks. <div><br /></div><div>Through being home the past couple of weeks for summer, these are some quotes I have heard that I feel I should share:</div><div><br /></div><div>"Friends are based on quality not quantity"</div><div>"It is never too late to be who you might have been"</div><div> </div><div>And one that I thought of on my own, when considering your dreams, "Go where you see yourself, not where you have to find someone else."</div>Raegan :)http://www.blogger.com/profile/15989776141668527002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520487174680971445.post-87291446846509097192022-05-02T12:07:00.003-07:002022-05-02T12:15:07.856-07:00A Drive<p><span> </span>A drive is always a good feeling for me. I often feel strange in the moments when I am driving. Where I feel like I am having an out-of-the-experience, experience. I'm not sure if that makes complete sense, but I feel so good in the moment. I was driving yesterday with one of my roommates to softball practice, and we started driving around Cameron Park, through trees to get to the practice field. I rolled the windows down, the sunroof was open, and the outdoor breeze brushed my face as it traveled through the car. I was genuinely happy. I felt like everything in life was going right. </p><p><span> </span>Recently, my year ago memories have been those of me being at OSU crying and counting down the days till I would be home. I listened to many sad songs- including the most relatable by Ethan Jewel's "Drive-thru poem". That song perfectly describes how I used to feel. Driving used to be my only escape, and music played a huge part during those drives. I look at her, the girl in those videos, and I want to hug her. Tell her it will be ok. I wish I could have given her a glimpse of where she would be in a year, so she could stay hopeful. Multiple times she says she knows it will be ok, but she wishes she could have some reassurance. From these videos, I realize how far I have come in a year. I still face the long-term effects of that time and often find it hard to forget those times. I am proud of how I have started crawling out of that hole. </p><p><span> </span>I parked the car and got out to practice. I hit a home run, I caught pop flies, I talked to new people, I enjoyed the music in the distance from the birthday party nearby, and I had fun. A year ago I didn't even remember what it was like to go out and have people to play sports with. My roommate and I walked to my car and immediately turned on the AC. I rolled the windows down, opened the sunroof, hit play on some music, and drove back through the forest. I took a step back and appreciated where I was. I watched the trees pass by my car and let myself at that moment feel good. I sang and laughed. I took that moment in and felt every fiber in my body release. I am so glad to be where I am in my life, and could not be more appreciative of those who helped me get here. I often have realization moments where I step out of the experience to understand that I am truly there, but this drive was one of the most eye-opening times. I love you guys. Keep pushing.</p><p>R</p>Raegan :)http://www.blogger.com/profile/15989776141668527002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520487174680971445.post-22182164491178896272022-03-14T13:31:00.001-07:002022-03-14T13:31:11.998-07:00School stresses me out<p> I am currently sitting in a cubicle on the second floor of the library with tea stains on my pants and shirt- along with gallons of water in my eye just waiting to pour out. I am not where I want to be. I am not who I want to be, and it makes me so upset because I feel like I've been working so hard in the wrong direction. While I enjoy my major- it is not what I want to do. I know just because you get a degree in something doesn't mean you have to stick with it, but it hurts to watch other people pursuing what I want to do. It is so hard to focus my time on work, that I feel does not matter to me in the long run. But I am also embarrassed to pursue what I want because people who are close to me whose opinions I care about oppose my passions and desires. People claim to understand me, but I don't feel like anyone truly does. My brain is so scattered and it is hard for me to get information out. Instead of letting that information flourish, I feel like people try to conceal it. I feel like I can't love all the things I love and do everything I want to do. My dream is to be a film director for feature films, but I would also love to act in movies, as well as direct concerts. I could manage how the lights work, different aspects of the show like fire, or what goes on the screen. I would love to be a dance choreographer. For contest routines for drill teams and even for big events like the Super Bowl. I want to be in the entertainment industry, and I want to make it big in film. I feel so behind from everyone else who is majoring in things like that because I am just doing it as a minor right now, hoping to get into graduate school for film. I am now not crying as much. I've cried too many tears over film to not do something big. I just wish I could trust the future more than I do. I wish I could trust myself as well. I know I will work hard and I won't stop till I get it, but I do not yet know the cost of my perseverance. Alrighty well, I gotta study and then go workout and practice- so I will write ya a little later. You guys got this. Keep pushing and working hard. Love each other, good people support your hustle always. Stop sitting around waiting for something to happen, and make it happen. I love you.</p><p><br /></p><p>R</p>Raegan :)http://www.blogger.com/profile/15989776141668527002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520487174680971445.post-55864224243067841522022-03-04T12:43:00.001-08:002022-03-04T12:43:42.664-08:00Where is my Zen?<p>2/6/2022</p><p>Recently what has pondered my thoughts throughout the night has been- what do I do about this? Being someone who suffers constantly from "paralysis by analysis", undiagnosed, I find myself quite a few times thinking and thinking and thinking. My mind is like a growing tree for every thought I have. It starts with a planted seed, specifically any thought, roots take you to the stump, which leads to the trunk, evolving into branches, each branch with mini branches, and each mini branch with a few twigs For example, what will I wear today? A daily task we must all figure out. For some- this question is quite simple, roll out of bed and choose the first pair of pants I see, and attempt to find a shirt that generally matches. For others- this could be a changing room situation, trying on multiple items of clothing trying to make sure the outfit is fire. For me, I take the second option to the extreme. First I must consider the weather. Well if its sunny I want to wear this, but if its raining I wanna wear this. Well since its cold I will wear this and since it is hot I will wear this. Next, what color will look best on me, and what color do I feel like wearing? Next, I start trying on multiple combinations of clothing. If something doesn't feel how I am feeling, if something doesn't match the vibe of the music I am listening to. Next, what is everyone else wearing- I don't wanna wear the same thing, but I don't want to stand out too much and try to steal the attention from what I am attending. Next, well I wore something like these a couple days ago, or I've worn this outfit before to this place so I cannot wear it here, and the thoughts go on and on. For any simple day tasks I am challenged with overcoming my instinct to think about every possible outcome. After talking with someone I generally start to think of everything that I said wrong- and how everything was extremely awkward. I start to think of what I wish I would've said or done. Any situation starts a tree seed and begins to grow into every possibility. This especially crippled me when trying to choose where to go to school for the second time. This has lead me to the question of 'Where is my zen?'. How do I obtain the mental strength to have a balance in my brain. With the gears constantly turning and working- it leaves me no time to focus on one thing- and I end up taking on a lot of little tasks instead of a couple big tasks. I constantly need to have paper and pen around me because my brain will start thinking of everything I have to do, and I have to write it down then. When I am reading my books for school I always have paper near me, because my brain begins to drift off and I need to write something down so I can continue to focus on my reading. All this lack of focus has caused me to not pay attention and retain the information I need- and in turn I begin to overthink about what information I will need to remember and what information will I remember and for how long? I am working on finding a source of zen for myself- and I hopefully will find it soon, for now I just hope to find the answers to my late night brain questions. What do I do about this certain situation? How do I stop overthinking it? How will I overcome my mental barriers? </p>Raegan :)http://www.blogger.com/profile/15989776141668527002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520487174680971445.post-82264488052121726212022-03-04T12:39:00.001-08:002022-03-04T12:39:59.132-08:00Nurses>>>>><span style="font-family: times;">2-14-2022</span><br /><div><span style="font-family: times;"><span> </span> I started my trek to the blood drive trucks on campus in hopes that I would be able to get my blood drawn so that I could donate it and save lives. However, one thing has always held me back. My biggest fear, needles. They're pointy, sharp, and they hurt you by penetrating your arm. Mostly anywhere there's a nurse or doctor- the weapon is present. When I was younger I always knew when I was getting a shot, because I had to know in advance to mentally prepare myself, otherwise it wouldn't go well. Even still, sometimes it would go horrible even with months of preparation. I remember specifically two distinct times I went to the doctor's office and it went terrible. Of course, there are more times than I can count, but these two go in the best of all-time book. </span></div><div><br /></div><div> First, when I was receiving my shots for high school I fought the nurses and they had to bring in 3 to pin me down to the table and give me a shot. I did indeed apologize afterward for my behavior- but I couldn't help it- they were trying to stab me. </div><div><br /></div><div> Second, I was extremely sick so my mother, against my word, took me to the doctor. They said they needed to run blood tests and I had no idea what that meant. My mind began to race as I was confused as to how they would get blood from my body. My mother knew this was not a good sign and she as well as I began to panic. She tried to calm me down, but we all can assume how that went. My mum explained "So they will bring in this big needle... just don't look at it... then they will tie a band around your arm super tight and squeeze it. Then, they will stick the needle in your arm until they find a vein and will take your blood. It only hurts a little bit and only lasts at most two minutes". Umm, I am sorry what? You're telling me they are about to stab me until they can find a vein AND then they are going to leave the needle in? Oh, and it is long? So instead of making me feel better- she scares me even more and I begin to hyperventilate, as well as cry hysterically. The nurse hesitantly walks through the door and we have the same terror in our eyes. The nurse says, "Are we feeling ok?", I answer immediately, "No". The nurse stares at me and then looks back to my mum for help or reassurance. "Well," the nurse says, "I am going to just prick your finger today and take some blood. You're gonna be just fine". Once again I panic even more. What is a finger prick? How bad is this gonna hurt? I thought you were sticking a huge needle in my arm. She begins to put on her latex gloves. "Oh Rae you're gonna be just fine, finger pricks are easy," my mum says. "What is a finger prick?" I ask. "Well you see this thing right here?" the nurse pulls a box-like contraption off of the table. "There is a small little needle inside and it's just gonna poke your finger. Have you done this before?" "No." my mum and I answer in unison. "Well it's super easy, and you can choose which finger I use". The nurse scoots closer and I back away. She comes to the edge of the table and asks for a finger. I do not move. I am frozen. She looks at my mum and asks again. My mum rises from her seat and comes to grab my hand. I begin to shake uncontrollably and cry. Over and over I am saying "no" but neither of them seem to care. She pricks my finger and I cry more. "It's done, it's done," she says, "You did it Rae!" my mum says happily. Unfortunately, the nurse proceeds to SCRATCH my now pricked finger on a cup and burns my soul when doing so. The nurse places a bandaid onto my finger and leaves the room. The space begins to feel funny and before I knew it, I threw up. I had been so worked up over a finger prick that I threw up. My mum's reply was "Ewww Rae". </div><div><br /></div><div> I finally make it to the blood drive trucks. I call my mum and talk to her about her day and inform her I will be donating blood. There was no other option. I walk to the table outside of the trucks and tell them I would like to donate, but have an intense fear of needles. They asked if I would like to try to donate and I said that I was going to donate- I would not leave without donating- I feel like I need to do this, but I am extremely scared. The man opened the door for me, and a cold whoosh of air hit me. It was freezing inside the truck. I sat down in a cubical chair right along the inside of the truck. "Fill out this survey and they will call you when they are ready for you," the man said. I scanned the QR code for the survey and began. Have you given blood before? No. Do you understand that you could have side effects from donating? Yes. Yada yada yada. The small office next to me was the evaluation room. Once the boy was done going over his paperwork- it would be my turn. "All done!" Said the women around the corner, and what did my dumb self do? I turned my head around the corner to find a huge needle and a bag of blood being held in the air. I thought I was about to have a panic attack. I began to speak with my mum- "I am so scared" "I want to do this but I am so scared" "I just saw a huge needle". My mum began to cheer me on and asked if I wanted her to explain the process to me. I immediately said "No, do you remember the last time you explained that to me?" She laughed. "Raegan." The nurse from the cubical called. I stood up and walked into the office. "Alright sweety we are going to go over the paperwork that you submitted, check your blood pressure, take your temperature, and then check your iron levels with a finger prick." And so began my journey. A finger prick? I thought it was just the needle in the arm and we are good. I don't even remember what a finger prick feels like. My mind was racing and my legs were shaking. I go through my paperwork, get my blood pressure taken, have my temperature checked, and then she pulls out the finger prick. The blue box of death. She asked specifically for my ring or middle finger. I choose my middle finger. She takes my hand, feels around, and asks if she can use my ring finger instead. Why would you ask me if I didn't have a choice? I say, "Sure!" She opens her hand and lets mine rest instead of hers while my hand is shaking abnormally. "I am sorry", I say, "I have a huge fear of needles and I get scared". "No worries, we will take good care of you here, are you ready?" she asks. I nod my head and tense up. Poke! "Alrighty all done, and a lot of people say that's the worst part! Even though the other needle is way longer- this one seems to hurt the worst." Great. The other needle is bigger but hurts less, that is so reassuring haha. She leads me out to go and lay on a bed till the other nurse is set up. I lay down, and begin to uncontrollably shake. "You good baby?" I look up and see that the nurse is speaking to me and holding my leg. "Ummm well I have a really big fear of needles, but I want to donate blood and I won't leave until I do." She smiles at me, "Well, thank you so much for donating, and don't worry I got you. Just don't look and I'll take care of you. But for now I am going to get you a Gatorade and you'll have to calm down little ok?" I shake my head, yes but inside I am still so nervous. She walks to the front of the truck, grabs a blue Gatorade, and brings it back to me. I continue to shake my leg and begin to chug the Gatorade. My mum talks to me for a little bit, then after about five minutes she comes back and is ready to start. My leg starts to shake even more than before. She squeezes my arm a couple of times to find a good vein. "Oh this will be so easy- you have great veins". I couldn't tell if that made me feel better or if I was just trying so hard to try and make myself feel better. I was handed a blue roll of some sort of squishy wrap and I could squeeze it when I was scared, but I also had to squeeze it while the needle was in my arm. The nurse continues "Alright Raegan, here we go, I need you to take a deep breath", I continued to hyperventilate. "Raegan you have to breathe. Ready" I try to force my body to relax. "3" I am so scared. "2" if this hurts how am I supposed to sit here for so long? "1" oh my God I am about to stick a needle in my arm. But they said it hurts less than the finger prick, it's ok. In this real-life right now? I grunt and turn towards the window. "No no no don't flex, you're ok. All done, all done". The needle was in my arm, and a stream of red flowed out from my arm. "Don't look, don't look", said the nurse. "Are you feeling alright?" "Yes I feel good, I cannot believe I just did that" I said with excitement. I sat and talked with my mum for another 10 minutes before she came back and said I was all done. She slides the needle out from my vein and wraps it in the blue wrap she handed me earlier. "All done. Look at you baby, you did so good." The other nurse at the back of the trunk clapped for me and I was offered a granola bar or another Gatorade. </div><div><br /></div><div> Getting ready to walk off the truck, the nurse asked me to sit and wait 15 minutes to make sure I was ok. Confused, I sat and waited. I told my mum goodbye and grabbed another Gatorade. I hadn't passed out, and I felt that that was an accomplishment. I texted Emma telling her I was done and that I was just waiting for the thumbs up to leave now. Suddenly, I felt hot. Almost like my occasional hot flashes, but something was different. I felt like I was going to throw up. I saw a trash can in front of me and decided if I need to throw up, I can use the trash can. Contemplating my whole life the nurse looks down at me and asks me if I am alright. I lie because I don't want her to worry about me "Yes, I am feeling good", "Alright, well just a couple more minutes and then you can go." I sit a while longer and realized I should probably ask for permission to throw up in their trashcan. "Excuse me," I say to the nurse, "Is it alright if I throw up in your trash can?" Her eyes got so big, and she set down her paperwork. "Baby do you need to throw up? Are you hot? You should have told me, come here" She escorts me to another bed, hands me a throw-up bag, covers me in ice bags, and hands me another Gatorade. "I am so sorry, I don't want to make you do this" she looked cock-eyed at me, confused maybe, then she smiled. "You're fine sweetie just stay here. In my time laying there a kid came to the bed next to mine and started getting his blood drawn. We spoke for a while, and 45 minutes later it was no longer the middle of summer inside the truck. I sat back down in the waiting area for another 15 minutes and she told me I could go. I asked for her name and said thank you. As I left the truck I said farewell to the man who I first encountered when I went to donate. He asked me about how it was, and I told him I would be coming back. On my walk home- I could not feel my legs, but I chose to finish my trek home. Once I was home I informed my mum and Emma of what had happened and we laughed about it. </div><div><br /></div><div> I encourage anyone who hasn't to donate blood, and if you have before to go next time you can. It is such an awesome experience if you can step outside your comfort zone. Slowly as I have stepped outside and done more things I didn't think I could ever do, I have grown to have a better appreciation for things, and I have been able to experience so much more. As for the title- I love nurses. Specifically, Andretti helped me to overcome a big fear and she took every step with me. She made me feel safe and content. I am extremely thankful for Andretti and all nurses. Their jobs aren't easy- especially when they have to deal with patients like myself. </div>Raegan :)http://www.blogger.com/profile/15989776141668527002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520487174680971445.post-37572483593067420022022-02-06T18:39:00.001-08:002022-02-06T18:40:17.334-08:00Silver Lining<p><span style="font-family: times;">To be honest, I have been struggling quite a bit with every aspect of life. At night, before bed, I always look through old photos on my phone, that I had taken with friends. Back when my photo album was colorful. I see all of my friends. Some funny pictures, some pictures we tried really hard to look good in, and the pictures you just lean over and take. I miss the days when I could just ride my bike over to their house, or when I could take a walk around the block with someone, or go on a mile run with a small group, or even when people would just come over and surprise me at my house. I miss going to pick up some friends, rolling down the windows, and blasting our music while scream singing to the city. Each photo I look at has a story, and I am reminded of that story. I sit and smile at my phone. I get lost in those pictures. I think about what happened in those moments.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">Written in March 2021</span></p>Raegan :)http://www.blogger.com/profile/15989776141668527002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520487174680971445.post-2517118272700588452021-02-16T19:11:00.002-08:002021-02-16T19:18:41.295-08:00The Disappointing Truth About a WallWalls. The basic structure of how everything is built. We build walls to keep ourselves warm in our houses, and we build walls to keep our neighbors kitchen out of our living rooms. We use walls to hang photos that hold a thousand memories, and we use walls to provide ourselves with comfort and security. But we also use walls to hide and get away from people. We can spin a door shut and laugh behind it or cry behind it. Somethings only the walls of our room know. A wall can physically keep an emotion locked away. A wall can also keep everyone who isn't wanted out. <div><br /></div><div>I am standing by this one wall right now. I didn't choose to stand by it. How did I find this wall? I was walking one day, the path I had been on for a couple years, and I hit it. I've never hit a wall no hard. I fell backwards and landed on my back. The wall went on for miles. To me, this wall was large. I laid in front of this wall for months. Just looking at it, watching it grow. I finally realized that this wall wasn't coming down and that the path was over. However, for some reason I stayed. Eventually, I was able to force my aching body to stand up, and I had to do it all on my own. I stay standing in front of this wall because there is a face that pokes out through a hole in it. This hole is perfectly shaped for the face of this person. There's a door on the side, where people can enter and exit to both sides of the wall. But I cannot. This face that I stare at is smiling and is friendly. Makes me want to get to know what is on the other side of the wall. In time, I start to see little pieces of the inside of the wall, as people enter and exit. The inside of the wall is nothing what I thought it would be based off of the face I have been staring at. However, everyone who enters and exits the wall already knew this. But they left me standing in front of a face. Alone. But you just keep smiling at the face knowing that its been a lie because you don't know what to do. All you know right now is to smile back, because on the other side of the wall, what you can't see, is what the face truly is.</div><div><br /></div><div>If you could zoom away and see a full picture, you would see a black line in the middle of the frame. A light yellow background on the left side, with someone smiling towards a face that is pasted on the wall. On the left side you would see that face is connected to the other side of the wall that is red. </div><div><br /></div><div>Walls can shelter, walls can protect, but walls can also damage and reject.</div><div><br /></div><div>Eventually, some walls fall, some walls get torn down, and some walls stay up forever.</div>Raegan :)http://www.blogger.com/profile/15989776141668527002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520487174680971445.post-57623371199941396402020-05-13T22:20:00.001-07:002020-05-21T19:15:51.107-07:00I am going to be a Film Star<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">I am 17 years old. I am about to college to learn about how to become a biomedical engineer. My dream is to become a famous actor, director, and producer. At this point in my life deciding I want to be in film is a risky move. Everyone encourages me to seek my biomedical job, and they tell me that film isn't safe. They tell me how I would be living in a box on the side of the road, making no money. They tell me "it's a side hustle". Today I have decided I am going for what my dreams are. I wanted to write in this blog to hopefully inspire others to chase their dreams. I'm not successful with film yet, but I am ready to work for it because I want it so bad. I remember when I was younger and people would ask me what I wanted to do. I told them film and they would tell me to look into other careers, or they would look at me with disappointment and tell me to go for something better. Now when I tell people I'm majoring in biomedical engineering they tell me how smart I must be and they smile from ear to ear telling me how I will be able to change the world with my hands. I never got that reaction telling people I wanted to do film. I am still majoring in engineering, but I am using this job as a back up if I do end up failing with film. I hope everyone will follow my journey and support me wherever film takes me. My dream day would be waking up to the Los Angeles sunrise at 7 in the morning and getting dressed. I would wear only the best fits of course. I would go downstairs with all my scripts, notes, and maybe a cool water bottle. I would get to set early to see the set up and rehearse lines or set up for production day. I would spend all day at the production area eating lunch during break and messing around when cameras are off. As the day wraps up I would leave around 9pm and drive home. After taking a nice shower and laying down and I would look over any notes I made, and go to sleep. Waking up the next day for the same routine. On weekends I would get together with friends, go to bonfires, parties, play guitar, and learn to surf. One day I hope to go to the oscars and the met gala. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">That's</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"> the dream.</span>Raegan :)http://www.blogger.com/profile/15989776141668527002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520487174680971445.post-64279854243456433532020-04-22T20:00:00.001-07:002020-04-22T20:00:06.136-07:00The day I thought I was going to dieI am not one to be scared of the dark or get jump scared. I'm a chill person who does not worry a lot, and when a situation does arrive I am more of the type to take action. However my perspective on my fight or flight was changed one day when I was cat-sitting for a friend. I still do believe if in a group setting I will fight to protect the other people that I love, but that is not the case for when I am alone.<br />
I went over to my friends house around noon to check in on her cat for the day. Everyday I would go and check her food and water. Shortly after I would go looking through the house to find the cat. I looked under tables, behind furniture, and on this particular day I found her under the bed on a trundle. Once I found her we played for a little and then we went to watch tv together on the sofa in the living room. She fell asleep on my lap while I was petting her. I guess she was not a fan of watching Victorious. After about 20 minutes her head perks up very fast and looks toward the hallway that leads to the dining room where the front door was. Being and idiot I pause the tv show and try to listen with her to see if there is something wrong. I hear a weird sound coming for the front and become very cautious toward what I am listening to. As I listened more it sounded like the front door had opened. I wasn't sure if I was listening correctly so I waited a bit longer. As I sat there frozen to my seat I heard sounds of a knife scraping against the wood floor. Immediately I grab the cat, my phone, and myself and run into the laundry room next to the living room. I sprint in the room quickly and hide with the cat behind some clothes next to the litter box. After I calm down a little I pull out my phone frantically and begin to text my best friend that I believe there is an intruder in the house with a knife. Suddenly the noise stopped. I could feel and hear my heart beating out of my chest. I was shaking uncontrollably. The scrapping became an on and off sound and it was coming closer to where I was. I knew I had to find a way out of the house otherwise I would be cornered in the laundry room. I could leave through the garage but I didn't think the garage door worked. The scraping was in the living room now, and I felt like the person in the house knew where I was. I figured that the only way out was the back door. Once the scraping came to a halt I got out of hiding and peaked my head around the corner of the laundry room door. There was no one in the living room. I looked out the kitchen window and there was a person, looking into the master bedroom bathroom through a window. They wore all black with their hood over the head. There was no sight of any skin. As I examined this person I look down at their hands and see them holding a long black stick like object. I continue to look at this person. Scared out of my mind I wonder what I am going to do. As I watch the man he raises his arm towards the window.<br />
He begins to water down the window. He was hired to wash the windows that day. I had no idea. Feeling stupid I text my best friend what happened and I begin to feel a huge weight of embarrassment. Still freaked out with so much adrenaline I turned off the tv, I locked the door, and got it my car. As I started my car getting ready to leave, the window washer man walked past my window and waved at me. I jumped so hard. I have never been so scared of a window washer in my entire lifeRaegan :)http://www.blogger.com/profile/15989776141668527002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520487174680971445.post-44327630163833377032020-04-21T21:44:00.000-07:002020-04-21T21:59:10.128-07:00Senior Year with Quarantine<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Every teen looks forward to living a memorable and fun senior year in high school. My friends and I are seniors this year, and sadly our time together has been cut short. The worst part of it all is that no matter how many times you tell everyone, no one will understand how valuable time is until you're in our shoes. I've been told for 4 years to soak in all the memories, and I've failed to do so every year until now. What looked to be the best year in high school ended poorly. If you were where the seniors are now you would constantly be reminiscing on old videos and photos, and while you cry you're going to listen to sad music, and wish you could just go back. Take it in, remember things a little better, and work harder at the things you might not get to do in college. You begin look around and realize the people who you have spent 5 days a week, for 12 hours a day, and hung out with outside of school for so many years are now all going separate ways to start life. The painful part is knowing all the memories you made, and now you can't make as many, but reflect on the ones you had made. You're no longer down the street or a 10 minute drive from them, but a couple hours and a ton of miles. Being in quarantine has taught me that even a phone call away is too far. Quarantine took away my last chance to make memories. All I have now is what I created and I still wish I could make those last memories and have closure. I've been reflecting on my high school senior year a lot and it still hurts to think that it's all over. I will type here for you to take it in, but the words feel so meaningless, because no person is ever going to understand the importance of every moment until they have to move on.</span>Raegan :)http://www.blogger.com/profile/15989776141668527002noreply@blogger.com0