“You look very emotional right now. Can you tell me about what you’re feeling? Look. I know you are scared and you have every right to be. Your sister is going to yell and be angry but you’ve been yelled at before, right? If your biggest fear is her disappointment, look me in the eye right now. I’m a sister and I can tell you this: Your sister is only angry because she loves you. Your sister is only disappointed you hid this from her because she trusts you. People don’t have feelings for other people if they do not care about them. And do you notice something about what I just said? LoveS. TrustS. Present tense. I’m a sister too. And I can guarantee you this: Anger fades but love never does. Siblings stay siblings, no matter what. The love never dies. Remember that. You are OK. Breathe.”

Yesterday, I had two 17-year olds in the clinic for 2-hours. Their pregnancy got found out because the girl sent a picture of her belly to a friend, and like any high-school, the picture spread. And got back to the boyfriend’s (father of the baby) older sister.

His older sister is the one who has custody; mom is out of the picture.

I have never seen such raw emotion, raw fear in a boy who is supposed to be an “adult” in just 6 more months. He was shaking, lips quivering, curled over in his chair hiding his red, tear-stained eyes. So, so afraid. After ruling out possible physical violence, it was clear to me that he respects his sister so much, loves her so much, that he is silenced by his fear of having lied to her.

He didn’t care about being hit, he didn’t care about being kicked out — what he feared was never being able to talk to her again. The sadness in his eyes as he kept calling her cell phone, sending her text messages — the cracking in his voice every time he repeated, “She’s not replying.”

It reminded me that the 5’ 8” boy with sagging pants sitting in front of me is just that: a scared little boy. Now a soon to be father.

And it is a humbling experience to have been able to be there for him, to be there for them. To be a part of their support system, if even for just this one, hectic day.

It humbles me to be a listening ear.

It humbles me to be a calming voice.

It humbles me to be a nurse.

Every. Damn. Day.

“Once, you asked me if ever knew how it felt to be restrained in the hospital bed. You asked me if I could even imagine what it felt like to sit behind the bars of a locked police car because XX called the cops on you, fearing that you would be dead, and not just threatening to be dead.”

I don’t.

But I know what it feels like to have chains wrapped around my head all the time; because the fear of losing you haunts me, eats me alive. I feel locked because I would never hesitate even a breath to give up everything for you, just to know that I would be with you.

Locked and waiting. Longing. Wondering. Fearing.

So yeah, maybe I do know what it feels like to be restrained.

Lesson 101 of pain management. Pain is what the patient tells you it is.

Maybe it’s not pain to you.
Or maybe it’s not pain to me.
But it’s pain to them.
It’s pain to someone.
And that’s OK.
That’s acceptable.

Let them have that pain.
Let us embrace it.
Let me have what sometimes is the only emotion I have left.

I know what it feels like to have a wall in my mind.
Your compliments don’t reach me.
Your optimism doesn’t touch me.
Telling me I don’t have ‘X,Y,Z’ as bad as you do,
Only dismisses my pain,
My insecurities,
My right to the only type of love I have left for myself.
Love that is often, hate.

It only tells me how little you listen, how little you see, how little you care.

Don’t dismiss me,
Don’t dismiss us.

Sometimes it’s best just to let me have the pain.
To let us have something.

My fear will go away.

I only wish my family could split.
I’m jealous of kids whose parents are divorced.

I’m afraid my mom will die.
I’m afraid my dad will kill himself.

I’m afraid.
The fear never stops.

I’m no different from the 11-year old me sitting at the top of the stairs, listening to the screams echo, listening to the anger escalate, wondering when I should run down to get between them.

As if I could stop them.

I’m 24 but I feel more helpless today than I ever did before.

The tears never stop.

Someone explain to me why my tears won’t stop?

And these times when she will not answer me,
or these time when she shoots me down,
I feel like drowning.
I feel like suffocating.

Except I have to do it in a way where no one will notice.
Because if there’s one thing she taught me,
it’s that if I wanted to do it,
I wouldn’t let anyone know.

And there’d be nothing anyone could do about it.
Ever.

This is what scares me.
If she does not let me know,
if she chooses to leave me without telling me,
I would follow her.
I would follow her until she saw how much I cared,
how much I loved,
how much I grieve.

“Do you think you’ll stay here after you graduate?”

And always I answer: “Maybe, it depends on where I find a job. I’m not opposed to staying here if this is where I get job.”

But that’s the biggest lie to ever come out of my mouth.
I want to go home.
I need to see my sister.
Nothing in the world can take me away from her.
Nobody in the world can take her away from me.

Nothing,
not even love or a new relationship,
not even a proposal or the best boyfriend in the world,
not even the best husband,
could keep me away from her.

I wish people would just stop asking me,
so I can stop lying.

And that means I don’t get to go home to see my sister.
Who I want to see, every single day of my life.
I know I need to get a job,
and move on with my own life.

But I can’t.
I go to sleep checking my phone,
I wake up checking my phone,
I walk to work and I check my phone,
I get to clinicals and I check my phone,
I sit in class and check my phone,
I need to check my phone.
I need to know she’s alive.

I want to get a job and move on,
but I’m too afraid to.

I want to just quit school and move home,
so I can at least work near her,
so that if something happens,
I can be with her.

All I need is to know.
I don’t want to eat.
I don’t want to sleep.
I don’t want to live,
if I don’t know.

But right before we signed off,
I pressed the button before you did,
and right before it closed — I saw you reach for something,
and I thought I heard the sound of pills in a bottle,
and now my heart is racing.

It’s racing, racing, racing.
What was that sound?
Why did I have to sign off in that millisecond?
I want to know,
I need to see you,
I need to hear you 24/7.

My mind is racing,
the fear is overwhelming.

I wish with all my heart that today would never end,
that it will stay March 3rd forever and ever.

Because I think it’s some sort of safety net,
that you would not die on my birthday,
that you would not want to put me through that.

But once the clock strikes 12:00 — March 4th,
that safety net is gone.
There is no other holiday.
There is no other date that would keep you alive,
nothing to keep you close to me.

Fear overwhelms me tonight,
as I start to lose my ability to reason.

I am important.
You cannot die,
because I am important.
Even if I know there is absolutely no connection between the two,
I plead with all my heart,
that you stay alive.

I cannot lose you.
I’m crazy enough at just the thought of losing you,
I can’t go through the real thing.
I can’t let you go through it.