Gingnuggie

TW: SA, DV, SI — very long. Saved some pictures at the end of people whose love, friendship, kindness and support have carried me through the years, even if we don’t talk anymore. I carry so much fondness. If you see your face, you positively impacted me. If you don’t, that doesn’t mean you haven’t… I just couldn’t find a picture of us or we don’t have one :’)

In December, my body finally reached the point of burnout after nearly 31 years. I’ve fought this my entire life, always pushing myself forward and telling myself I’ve been through worse and can handle it. I’ve been dealing with issues since the miscarriage last year that still have no answer. For anyone who knows the nitty-gritty details of my life, you fully understand that I have only known abuse, quieting yourself, making yourself small so others reap the benefits of your help and kindness, keeping emotions to yourself, so much more. I’ve recently been diagnosed with MDD, PTSD, ADHD, Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Panic Disorder. I’m learning to navigate what each of these means in terms of the things I’ve been through and how they’ve impacted, and continue to impact, my life.

I was the mediator for my parents from a very early age (earliest memory first grade), moved out at 16, only went to college to get away. I never had a plan but to escape. I didn’t know what I wanted to be in a decade, I just wanted out. My 20s were so messy. I was drinking, doing drugs, going out and doing whatever to feel something and nothing at the same time. I experienced sexual assault, loads of betrayal, put my trust in the wrong people. Even in the mess, I still tried to be the best person I could be for myself and everyone around me. I’m not perfect, I make mistakes, however, I have no problem admitting them or apologizing. Usually putting my wants, feelings, thoughts on the back burner. That was something again, I learned at a very young age and just stayed ingrained in me. Just be a good girl and do what people need you to do and everybody will like you and you won’t have any problems. Sounds simple enough, right? Until you get into your adult life and you’re having to learn how to set boundaries, regulate your emotions and prioritize yourself without feeling guilty or selfish or wrong.

And while I love and miss my dad very much, I am now at a point in my life where I am able to deal with all of the trauma he put me and my family through when he was at his worst. He unfortunately is the biggest source of trauma. This isn’t to slander him or make him seem like a horrible person, but he was a horrible person at times, and he knew that. His unresolved trauma, a paper thin temper, and a drinking problem created the perfect storm for domestic violence. He and I had a lot of conversations about it before he died, and we both were at peace with what we spoke about. We also had numerous conversations about me sharing things like this and he was okay with it. I wouldn’t share it without knowing my parents are comfortable. They know I’m sharing from a place of love, hope for others, truth and zero pity. It happened. It’s done. We’re moving on. However, that does not erase the permanent marks left in my brain and body from the nearly 20 years of abuse I witnessed and experienced.

Over the years I’ve grown to see my experiences in a different light, and see both of my parents and their relationship completely differently. None of it validates the things my dad did and said, however, he lived through a LOT of things that he died not talking about and had SO much unresolved trauma. We only knew what he’d talk about. My mom was the only person in his life who never gave up on him and showed him what love was. She was the light that kept him going, and she dimmed hers to try to fix him. She gave me and my brother everything she could during those times, doing the best just to survive and make it through another week when he was home and in one of his moods, drinking. I will never hold any ill will against her for not leaving him, because now as an adult, I see how hard it was to even consider it. She is one of the strongest women I have ever known, and I am so blessed to be raised by her. I will never be able to put into words how much I admire her strength an ability to push forward in one of the worst times of her life. And where was HER support? Which ones of you were there for her? For me? My brother? Instead of judging our family and the things we were going through. Who was there for US? I pray so hard for the hearts of those who live high and mighty and above all sin, those who have little empathy or compassion for things they don’t understand. I thank those of friends and family who were, for my lifetime. I imagine that she envisioned her life so differently. We all envision our life a certain way in an act surprise when it doesn’t work out exactly the way we planned. But we survived.

When he was dark, he was dark. And as crazy as it sounds, I did forgive my dad before he died, and I still forgive him. I’m allowed to feel these things as they come up. I simply see him as a man who was hurt, never allowed to be a child, never given the love and support he truly needed, was never uplifted, and was always told he would amount to nothing and was nothing. My dad was a fun man, kid at heart. We had so much fun together! He was extremely smart and quickwitted. He could fix anything and build anything in a matter of hours. Ask anyone who welded with him, he was THAT guy on site. A legend of sorts. He was the guy that you called when he needed something done because he was that dependable, and you knew he would drop whatever he was doing if it wasn’t his family. I think if he was still here, he would maybe be the person he wanted to be his entire life, but we’ll never know. I have a lot of love for him because he’s the only person that truly understood my brain, my grit and drive, my deep lack of appreciation for disrespect, and what it means to truly give everyone around you the last thing you have.

Before I share about my patient, I want to give you one more piece of backstory. In seventh grade, I attempted suicide for the first time. I don’t think many, if any, of my friends knew what was going on. Most of us were too young to really talk that deep at the time. It was wild because there was a girl in my grade at the time who was the catalyst for multiple mental health talks for our school. I did again in high school, took a ton of ibuprofen. I remember feeling like I was slowly falling asleep and thinking “this is it.” Quite the surprise when I woke up the next morning covered in sweat, pee and puke. My stomach felt like it was a volcano for days. I don’t take any pain meds now, it’s extremely rare that I do. I look at those “failures” as huge successes, because now I can share my experiences and try to give someone hope. When I forgave my dad in 2018, I was 23. It took me seven years to forgive him, he was lucky I did at all. I think that was when I truly started working on this journey, still very wobbly, but I had a little more wisdom under my belt. Not to mention, me and my dad were close at this point. But as great as late-2018 – 2019 were, everything went downhill with… you guessed it, COVID-19.

My dad was diagnosed with Colorectal cancer the weekend of Father’s Day 2020. There were a lot of very unfortunate snowball effects to that diagnosis that will remain private, but all of that work started to come crashing down slowly. I couldn’t really talk to anyone about what I was going through, because how could I explain the complexity of the relationship with my now sick and dying father? People could understand the part of having a sick parent, sure. But, I carried so much guilt for leaving my mom and brother behind, for wishing my parents would separate on my birthday candles, for never going on family vacations even though we reconciled. I always used school or work as an excuse because I was so scared to be in a place with the four of us. Guilt, guilt, shame, shame, even in the process of “healing.” I suppose it’s normal. In 2022, I found out I was pregnant in October, lost it shortly after. Quit my job in December. Lost my dad January 2023 after 10 very long days in the hospital on hospice; he fought. A lot happened in that room that gave me so much respect for the profession I’m now a part of. April 2023 my brother got into a car accident and should have died or been paralyzed honestly. I cleaned his wounds because the staff said he could… even though he was in a C-collar and told not to move or he would become a quadriplegic. He still has glass in his body. I was almost done getting my CNA certification, then started working in a hospital as a CNA in July 2023. Practically six months after my dad died since we had his service on his birthday, February 2. Did I process any of that? Seeing my brother’s truck in pieces before I knew if he was alive? Feeling guilty knowing how much pain he was in and didn’t know how to fix it? Watching my dad slowly die for 10 days? No, I fucking trauma bonded with the hospital and became a nurse. I’m a really good nurse, but I have SO. much. left. to. learn. So now, after carrying the weight of my trauma, my patients’ traumas, the patient’s our hands couldn’t save, new diagnoses, freshly amputated limbs, cleaning wounds people can’t feel… yeah, I’d say I was due for some burnout. I’d never allow myself the time to process in my life, guaranteed, so what happens next is a blessing.

I had a patient in December 2025 who shared an extreme amount of trauma with me throughout our shift together, and it was the most emotionally and mentally draining room I’ve ever been in. She needed that love, and someone to listen to her, so I’m thankful I was able to give that to her. The conversations she and I had brought up a lot of emotions that I had suppressed and said “eh, I’ll get to it later, I’m busy”. But as hard as it was to do my job that day the way I normally do, caring for her was a blessing in disguise. She is what broke me. Not in caring for her, but in listening to how much of her trauma I could relate to. I find it beautifully ironic that I was her nurse there to help heal her, and here she is unknowingly healing me. I’ll probably never be able to thank her and never know how she’s doing. Hugging her and listening to her, I felt like I was giving that to myself. Two days later, I had a very intense panic attack. I haven’t had a panic attack in a true decade. I continued to have panic attacks into January, learning new coping skills and leaning on my saint of a husband. Since December, I’ve been on medical leave and took the semester off school with no penalties to care for my mental health. And now I’m learning how to navigate relief and grief that someone is gone all in the same breath, how to unlearn all of the negative words spoken, how to feel safe in my body, how to love myself, forgive myself, find the lessons in those who have hurt me and I’ve hurt intentions aside. People who have been in situations like mine will understand, and if you haven’t, I’m sure it sounds cold and odd. It’s just the reality of the life I’ve lived. It’s a very unnerving emotion to navigate, it comes with guilt and shame. But I have to feel it to have inner peace. If anyone has ever been in an abusive situation in any instance, I’m sure you can relate.

I am forever an Cote girl ^^. If you know her, you love her or hate her or judge her or some combo. But this girl right here… let me tell you. While y’all have been judging, I have MAD respect for her. Always have, always will.

I’m sharing this in hopes that someone feels less alone, and I hope to continue to share my journey about learning how to love myself again and how to be my own person. I’ve never really been in a place where I’ve been allowed to truly be myself, and I don’t know who that person is. I think the versions of her that you all have met are who I really am deep down, but I have to find her and learn how to love her again… past the grief, shame and regret.

The shame of being sexually assaulted by someone who didn’t seem to understand the word “no,” only to end up aborting my abuser’s child at the ripe age of 20. You can look at me differently after reading that sentence, I really don’t care. Thank you Kate, Marissa and Nikki for keeping me above water during this. I couldn’t have gone through that without someone. Do you truly think a 20 year-old who was taking a hiatus from undergrad who had years of unresolved trauma, working two jobs and taking gen-eds would’ve made a good mother? To a baby that was created out of force? Out of unwillingness? Oh, I should have put it up for adoption? Yeah, look at how good the system is. It’s something that I made peace with, but it’s something that I’m remaking peace with as I have now experienced the loss of two children with the love of my life. The anniversary of one passed, one coming up Feb. 17. I can’t help but blame myself, because of what I did and I don’t regret it. That foul person has no place in my life, and I hope that one day karma comes back to him because I know I’m not the only girl he did this to. It really makes you think that because you got abused and didn’t keep your abusers baby that now you’re being punished with your husband and you don’t deserve children. How screwed up as that? that’s what my brain tells me every time I see those two pink lines, that I don’t deserve it. That’s what society tells women who get abortions anyway, that’s how we should feel no matter if we were sexually assaulted or if it’s just simply our choice. If you think I should have an almost 11-year-old that looks like my rapist, delete me. God and I have had enough conversations about it that we’re good, and my husband still married me after I told him this one of the first times we hung out!

The shame and guilt of not being there to protect your mom and brother, when that should have never been anyone’s job in the first place. Especially a child. Of always yearning for the families that my friends had, seeing myself as little orphan Annie in my head thinking “maybe if my friend’s parent’s like me enough, I can be their daughter.” I just wanted to be seen, fully. My mom and dad did see us. It sounds all so tragic and awful, but it really wasn’t this ALL the time. Ask anyone who grew up around us- we’re really fun, we love hard, we forgive, we accept you where and as you are, we see the good. I have so many fond memories of growing up, more than the negative. But when it was bad, it was bad.

I can’t wait to meet this next version of myself, and I know I’ll love her as well as I’ve loved my past versions of me. Maybe even better now that I’m older and have more tools. I’ve been on this journey for years, but now I’m in a place where I can focus on me and me only. Anything that doesn’t feel aligned with my inner peace, it’s gotta go. I’m excited to show up better for myself, my patients, my family, my friends and anyone I encounter. I don’t think I’ve left any major negative marks on anyone thus far, at least not on purpose, so I hope to continue to do that in the future. And if I have, it wasn’t my intention and I’m sorry. I hope people know my heart well enough. But I hope that everything I share about who I am and what I go through only helps other people feel less alone and brings a little more light to such a crazy, screwed up world.

I’m learning that although I’ve been through a lot of crazy shit in my life, majority of it isn’t in this post, these experiences will no longer have power over me and I’m not a victim. I am a survivor. I am a survivor of childhood domestic abuse. I am a survivor of sexual assault. I am a survivor of failed suicide attempts. I will be okay, I will be a mother, I will be a fantastic nurse, friend, wife, person. I will love myself, truly love myself and all my flaws. I am not my past, I am not what’s happened to me, I am not a victim. I do not share the heart of people who have hurt me.

If you’ve made it this far, I hope you feel less alone if you’ve experienced any of this. To my co-workers and managers that see this, I cannot express how much gratitude and genuine love I have for each of you. You all bring me so much joy in a chaotic workplace, and I cherish your love and support both as nurses and people. The love that hospital has given me from colleagues, patients and their families is unmatched. My family and chosen family who have always uplifted, encouraged, trusted, supported and loved me and put me in my place — I love you. Thank you for being here for decades+ majority of my friends. Thank you for showing up for me, for understanding when I can’t show up for you the way I want to so badly, for giving me a reason to believe in true friendship, for knowing my heart and loving me how each of you do.

Last thing- I’m proud of who I come from. The homes and states that raised me. The hard times and the laughter shared. Proud to come from both of my parents. They raised a resilient, supportive, empathetic, passionate, stubborn at times, hilarious person in both myself and my brother. I love them both so much it hurts. I miss my dad. I love doing redneck things because that’s when I feel him the most.