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Dear Americans,

I read an article about what Europeans found the most shocking about America. One item was the “number of American flags. They are just everywhere.” I thought about it. I would have to agree with that assessment and until 2016 I never thought of that as a bad thing.

As I drive into work every day I pass through mostly rural communities. Many houses have flags. A few in particular have an American flag, underneath which is a “F&ck Biden” flag. I gotta be honest. That irks me. I had to reflect on it for awhile to come to a non-partisan rationale as to why it irks me.

I am the granddaughter of a World War II veteran. I am the daughter of a Vietnam veteran. My Dad also served in Utah as one of the first homeland security details for the Winter Olympics. My Dad was an epic patriot. And it was one area in life we never fought about. I respected, and still do after his death, his love of his country. One of the most meaningful moments at his funeral were three of his former Army friends showing up in dress uniform and seeking me out of the crowd. Saluting me. Asking me politely what happened to their friend and their utter dismay at finding out my Dad at the very end made it clear he did not want a military funeral.

I’m still unclear why my Dad declined what he was entitled to with more than half his life given to the military. His feelings toward the military were complicated by the men he lost in Vietnam, the men who died for him to live, and later on they were further complicated by his understanding of Agent Orange and how that impacted his health until the day he died.

My grandpa and my Dad both kept quiet about their service but they did not ever hide their pride in their service and in their country. I grew up watching them march in our Memorial Day parades. Attending military ceremonies whenever my Dad would be promoted. I visited armories with him throughout the state over my childhood and it was a normal occurrence for me to be around men and women in fatigues. When I went to work with my Dad some times I remember sitting in armories and chatting with soldiers.

When I married a woman nothing about my relationship with my Dad changed. Nothing about my relationship with the American flag changed either. I was raised to be proud of the service of my family members. My Dad served under many Presidents he disagreed with in terms of rhetoric but we did not disrespect a President in front of my Dad. We could disagree with policy and opinions but if I ever said F&*$ Bush my Dad would have slapped me in the back of my head. Because he got that even if we disagree with policy he is still the President and he is deserving of the respect of that office.

2016 changed my Dad. He was still with it enough to know that this was bad. I think that also contributed to his decision to not pursue a military funeral. He had never come against some one who disrespected the office of the President as much as he felt it was disrespected during that administration. But I still would never have used the F word in the same room as my Dad in regards to the President. No matter how much we may agree that administration was not okay. We still had some level of respect and decorum for the office.

When I drive by a flag that has the F word on it (and I swear a lot. So if it bothers me it’s bad) that not only names our current President but also is touching the American flag. Every atom of my being rebels. I feel like my Dad and Grandpa are turning in their graves. Because how disrespectful is that to our flag, our nation, their service, and the office of the President of the United States of America. That is not patriotism. That is hateful and overt disrespect to every veteran, every active service member, and every person who has held the office of the President.

After I had this heated discussion in my head about how and why this was bad, I thought well their response could be they feel the same about seeing the Pride flag with an American flag. That was a head scratcher for me. I can say that, I hear you. I get that. BUT, at the same time- the Pride flag does not disrespect the office of the President. The Pride flag creates safety and perhaps can start to acknowledge and thank all the Queer servicemen and women who have served our country just as proudly and bravely as my Dad and Grandpa. It also doesn’t place the F word in line with our flag. Our flag is a symbol of unity. To have its counterpart say F our President sews divide. It literally does the opposite of what we are supposed to feel when we see our flag.

Somehow “Patriots” have become these neo-nazi homophobic, anti-semitic people like “Proud Boys” who spew hate and division. Well I won’t live in fear of our flag. I am proud of the American flag and I challenge any one flying anything so disrespectful as F Biden next to our flag to remember our veterans. Remember the men and women who served and died under our flag. Because I remember my Dad and his pride in our country and our flag and I urge you to take the parties and politics out of our flag because all Americans are united under one flag whether we like it or not.

And listen, I may disagree with what you do and say, but I’ll defend to the death your right to do it and say it. But in this case, I’m going to call out general bad form; and hope that you can open your eyes to maybe taking things a step too far. Maybe disrespecting the American flag is actually not patriotic but in fact insulting to many fellow Americans.

Sincerely,

Irked In Rural America

#COVID-19 · Nursing

Therapist Friends

My sons started kindergarten. I have minimal pictures because I’m generally bad at taking pictures. I like to think it’s because I’m being present in the moment and just soaking up the emotion of it all. But it’s also because I forget. The first day the school and aftercare program lost them. They were never lost. They just didn’t get off the bus at the aftercare stop. So I thought they were lost. I had epic Mama bear panic ten minutes of tearing out of my office while picturing just pulling over every bus I pass and going up them aisle by aisle until I found them. But then the school secretary verified with Dattco the boys were still on the bus with a sleeping child who also missed their stop.

Nothing like a good adrenaline rush after a morning of blubbering for my week to start on the right foot.

The highlights I get from the boys are the bus rides, hot lunch, and yeah. That’s all they really talk about. I’m assuming there is some learning that occurs but who knows.

The great thing about being friends with therapists are moments. My friend and I were hiking in the woods. We had already dissected the boys being lost on the bus where I received validation that I was within my rights to have epic crazy town ten minutes.

There was a road within a half mile of where we were hiking. We just couldn’t seem to get there from the paths we kept choosing. There was a lovely orange circle that looked really easy and was 2.1 miles. Perfect. Then we were on blue. Then we were on blue/yellow. Then we were on orange/yellow. Then I don’t know how but we ended up in an unmarked section where another person emerged looking confused.

We kept walking. I was sweaty, hot, and cranky by this time. Meanwhile my friend who is a therapist says, “Maybe we are just supposed to be lost in the woods right now. Maybe this is exactly what we both need right now.” She literally says this smiling and if she could have been skipping I feel like she would have been. There I am the nurse. The nurse is like oh hell the fuck no fucking way are we supposed to be fucking lost and sweaty…and I’m not skipping. I keep that all inside though as I mentally handslap my forehead and look at her smiling positive attitude and try to channel the therapist side of me.

I gotta be honest. I couldn’t find it. But I did smile because how therapist-y was that moment? And literally. I just pictured her skipping.

(She sometimes reads my blog…I say this with love my friend)

I’m not sure the plus side of friends with nurses. We swear a lot. We are blunt. And you send us pictures of random skin conditions and expect diagnosis and treatment. Literally happened the same day from another friend and is not uncommon; not even a trigger warning usually just a random picture of a body part with a rash. (She never reads my blog but on the off chance: with love also my friend)

My therapist friends and I are careful to never do therapy on one another. And if some one starts to sound to therapist-y we will say, “Stop therapizing” at which point there will be denial they are therapizing but also a general backing off and trying to approach differently. The pro’s of therapist friends are we can get into deep analytical discussions that other people would find boring. They also say things when we are lost in the woods that are annoyingly positive but also hilarious because it’s beyond comprehension to me how some one can be that positively existential while hot sweaty and lost.

When I went into psychiatric nursing I never thought of a by product being a cache of therapist friends that would develop over time. But here we are. It’s been interesting evolving from emergency department co-workers to psychiatry. They are all a little messed up but in very diverse and special ways. I vibe with both sets. Definitely my people.

What’s nice is that I can be therapist-y and a nurse. Typical intake with a nurse goes something like this, “So you were a nurse?” “Yeah, but I’m still a nurse, I’m just an NP now.” “Yes but in psych.” “Yeah….okay. I worked in the pedi-ED”. “Aw shit. Okay so you’ve been in it.” “Yeah, you?” “ICU. (or ED. or MICU. etc.)” “Nice, you see other psych providers?” “yeah they don’t know shit.” “Yeah, it’s hard to describe what it’s like seeing some one’s insides or holding their brains in your hands.” “Yeah. I like you. I’m so glad I found you.”

Ver batim I’ve had that conversation more times than I can count. Nurse’s have seen some shit. It’s different sitting with a nurse as a provider than sitting with a therapist who has never worked as a nurse. I usually have to reference seeing guts and brains (which is not a lie or exaggeration) in order for them to relax and open up about what’s going on. Their reason for seeing me does not even have to be about nursing but them just knowing I get what they see relaxes them.

I’ve never regretted going into psychiatry. I’ve never regretted declining intakes to save spots for nurses and the LGBTQ community. I’ve never regretted forging the friendships I have with therapists, in fact they have seen me through some of the hardest couple years of my life starting back in 2019 with the death of my Dad.

I am a firm believer in fate and people showing up in your life when you need them. I worked in the ED when I needed ED friends. I still have them as friends, but not seeing each other every day like we did means we naturally grew apart. What’s nice about the ED though is I know I could reach out to any of them at any time for anything and they’d have my back. Just as so many have reached out to me for family members and friends since I went into psychiatry for help connecting to services.

I honestly feel blessed for the people who have been in my life since going into psychiatry. I’ve met such good people who work hard, are smart, compassionate, and are just good role models for me professionally and personally. And I’m still surrounded by nurses too; they are just psych nurses so haven’t necessarily held guts and brains- still cool but different than ED nurses.

I’ll take the annoying positivity while lost in the woods because that’s what I need. I need people who see the best in others, therapists seem far less cynical than nurses, because it’s something I need to practice. Since March 2020 mental health providers have been stretched beyond what you can even imagine.

I see it, I hear it, and I feel it.

We hold pain, secrets, love, and loss. I started my day today with a person calling and bursting into tears when I said we could not take her daughter as we are closed to adolescent referrals. Then I heard her story of calling fifteen offices and I was the first person who even answered the phone. Not even my client. That’s how the days go now though. Long, hard, and with a lot of tears.

I have such immense respect for mental health professionals, my friends included, because this work is hard and my friends in particular can still hold onto such positive outlooks in the face of such darkness. They also are woke and call themselves out on privilege. They make me a better person. I know my psych APRN friends right now are going, hmmm, am I a therapist friend or a nurse friend? More on the therapist friend side but with the cynicism of a nurse. Good people.

Take this for what you will. An ode to my friends- therapists and nurses- who helped me survive the last couple years. I can’t remember a time in my life I needed friends more and of course it was the hardest time to see anyone. I am grateful for the people who keep showing up for me and who I am happy to show up for.

This is also a call to examine the people you surround yourself with and what they contribute to your life. As I get older, as my kids get older, they see my friends. They know them. I surround myself with people I want my children to know. There should be equal parts giving and taking with one person perhaps taking more at different points in life and vice versa.

This is also a thank-you to all the mental health professionals still standing in the wake of COVID-19. I see you, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for all you are and do.

And if you’re friends with a nurse…two words: Trigger. Warning.