Last day in my apartment, relaxing for a few moments while I wait for the caffeine to kick in. Liger is on his way down with some friends to help us move the bed, and the last of my belongings. I’ve been up for going on 19 hours, and won’t get sleep until I hit close to 28 or 30 hours straight.

It’s weird, and hard to process. I am moving out of a craptastic job, one which I was berated and treated poorly for trying to be a good nurse, to care for my patients, and to help families. I am moving on to a hospital that is one of the best facilities in a tri-state area that specialized in cutting-edge medicine. I am moving in with my fiancé, and finally getting to start our lives together. I will be leaving night shift to go back to days for a while, and can actually get some semblance of sleep again. I will be able to fix my eating habits and get an exercise regimen going, as well as have medical insurance so I can start my antidepressants again, and maybe start on some ADHD medication for once.

But at the same time, I am moving away from several of my friends and family, my pack, and the area and state I have lived in for over fifteen years. I will not be 10 minutes down the road from my Alpha and Beta, or a half hour trip from my old pack. I won’t be five minutes from a Starbucks for my daily chai, or quick run down to Toys R Us and Target to hunt for the newest transformers. 

Also, while I basically only had one single room, it was still my room. It feels so weird to leave a place that was mine, and only mine, to move in with Liger and try to make it OUR’s. It’s weird to make this jump from assisting my ex, to living alone, to cohabitation again.

I’m worried, and I want this to go smoothly, I don’t want to scare off Liger, or get him sick of me. 


And damn, once we are settled, we better be getting a kitty and a puppy.

Last day in my apartment, relaxing for a few moments while I wait for the caffeine to kick in. Liger is on his way down with some friends to help us move the bed, and the last of my belongings. I’ve been up for going on 19 hours, and won’t get sleep until I hit close to 28 or 30 hours straight.

It’s weird, and hard to process. I am moving out of a craptastic job, one which I was berated and treated poorly for trying to be a good nurse, to care for my patients, and to help families. I am moving on to a hospital that is one of the best facilities in a tri-state area that specialized in cutting-edge medicine. I am moving in with my fiancé, and finally getting to start our lives together. I will be leaving night shift to go back to days for a while, and can actually get some semblance of sleep again. I will be able to fix my eating habits and get an exercise regimen going, as well as have medical insurance so I can start my antidepressants again, and maybe start on some ADHD medication for once.

But at the same time, I am moving away from several of my friends and family, my pack, and the area and state I have lived in for over fifteen years. I will not be 10 minutes down the road from my Alpha and Beta, or a half hour trip from my old pack. I won’t be five minutes from a Starbucks for my daily chai, or quick run down to Toys R Us and Target to hunt for the newest transformers.

Also, while I basically only had one single room, it was still my room. It feels so weird to leave a place that was mine, and only mine, to move in with Liger and try to make it OUR’s. It’s weird to make this jump from assisting my ex, to living alone, to cohabitation again.

I’m worried, and I want this to go smoothly, I don’t want to scare off Liger, or get him sick of me.


And damn, once we are settled, we better be getting a kitty and a puppy.

teysa-orzhov-rules-lawyer

justlookingforthespnfandom:

ullarin:

kijikun:

fiftyshadesof-ofmiceandmen:

ask-rainy-water-princess:

genocidershodan:

lemonteaflower:

anxiety.

Or, you know, you could just stop saying sorry.

I take it you don’t have anxiety.

You can’t “just stop saying sorry”. You do something, something so little, like accidentally bump into someone. You feel horrible about it. Your brain starts panicking and you have trouble trying to breathe. You stutter an apology. They say it’s okay, but you accidentally do it again, and you apologize again. They just say “Aha, you can stop saying sorry.” And you feel horrible that you’ve probably made them angry or upset, so you mutter out an apology for the third stupid time, and they just say to stop saying sorry. Stop saying sorry. 

You can’t just tell someone to stop saying you’re sorry.

I want that comment on flyers so I can hang them in my school

reblogging this one for the GOOD commentary.

If you’re going to tell someone to stop saying sorry say, “You don’t have to apologize to me.” and smile. If they say sorry again just say, “You’re fine.” and keep smiling and move on. The faster the situation is resolved the faster the person with anxiety can start to calm down. Please don’t get angry at someone for saying sorry, sometimes that’s all the person feels like they can do.

I’ve always been really bad about this and as a kid I’d always do it around my parents and my mom would always say “STOP SAYING YOURE SORRY.” thank you to the helpful comment.

I’ve got the same problem, but that is due to a step-father that was pretty abusive when he was drinking.

It is not easy for some of us to shut the ingrained response off. I’ve been working on it for over a decade.