#maslows hierarchy of needs but the entire thing is the need to bite people

[sanguinechaos]

they got put in gay baby jail for biting crimes [🐦]

[an-ambivalent]

Uchiha Therapist: Part I

Synopsis: Yandere! Madara x Reader x Yandere! Sasuke 

 [Name] is a struggling post graduate psychology student who has more on her plate than she can handle. Between her practicums to gain work experience and writing reports, to trying to maintain a decent lifestyle and look after her own mental health, there is little to no time left to work an actual paying job. Yet, money is essential for survival. So,  she does the next best thing that has been trending recently to assure a good paycheck; she becomes a sugar baby. The only thing is, [Name] is unaware that she’s become sugar baby of the Madara Uchiha, the notorious CEO of Uchiha Corporation. She is also unaware of the fact that she’s the therapist of his nephew Sasuke Uchiha, who has begun treading over the professional boundary of a patient, and has started developing an abnormal fixation for his therapist since she seems to be the only one who actually understands him.

Warning: Although this story will come to contain yandere themes that can be triggering or uncomfortable to read, there are no yandere themes present  in this chapter. It does have mentions of negative and tiring thoughts that may be triggering. Read at your own risk. This work is purely fictional and any yandere or other toxic behaviours that may be present in the future, know that I do not condone such behaviour. 

Word Count: 4K 

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Story start; A day in the life of [Name] 

On the night that started it all, when [Name] was feeling particularly disheartened and dissatisfied with her life, she had vented her frustrations and sorrow to her good friend Ino Yamanaka. Although many things in her life were going right, and she was privileged enough to have the chance to pursue her wanted career, it came at a cost. Her entire life schedule was fixed around her post graduation studies, other little spared time was for cooking and doing chores, and the rest was for sleeping. [Name] lacked the time for earning money, and doing things that were higher on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs — dating to find someone to create a meaningful connection with, or working on her previous hobbies. 

The two friends had been consuming enough booze to be a little more than tipsy but not enough to be drunk. Some words were slurred, the fine motor control had decreased a bit, and with their faces slightly flushed, Ino was convinced that she had the best idea to [Name]’s problems. 

Giggling at her own idea, Ino had snatched [Name]’s laptop from in front of them, and tapped various keyboard keys for joogle to search up. Once she saw the results, she clicked on one of the many websites shown as a result, and after a few more minutes of more clicks and keyboard taps, she had turned the laptop towards [Name] to see, with a triumph grin on her face. 

“A sugar daddy,” Ino claimed proudly. 

[Name] raised an eyebrow. “What?” 

“A sugar daddy — it’s the perfect solution for your troubles. Not only will you get to earn more than enough, it covers the dating aspect too! Someone to spend your time with, to sleep over with — just without getting too attached. You’ll have a social life once again that doesn’t consist of you drinking booze with me or our other friends and you can finally afford to look decent again,” Ino explained straightforwardly. 

[Name]’s eye twitched. “What do you mean finally afford to look decent again?” she inquired in a low voice, and glared at Ino, who smiled sheepishly at her. 

“Well you’ve been a fashion disaster for sometime now—“

“Sorry I don’t have rich parents like the rest of you to buy me extravagant brands,” [Name] retorted, and a tick mark of anger bulged on Ino’s head. 

“Well Sakura is a commoner like you too and even when she was a starving student, she still had a fashion sense. You don’t need to buy something expensive like jucci to look decent!” Ino snapped, and [Name] scowled at her. 

“Whatever. This discussion is pointless anyway since I’m not going to become a sugar baby,” [Name] responded, and went to grab a bottle to consume more alcohol.  However, the uneasy and anxious expression that Ino wore made her halt amidst her movements. All of a sudden, a cold shiver ran down [Name]’s back, and she felt a sense of dread building up in her gut. 

“Please tell me you didn’t,” [Name] pleaded and Ino winced inwardly, before she turned the laptop around to show [Name]. 

“I did… I already signed you up. You have a date with him this Friday night.” 

“INO!” 

That was the gist of how [Name] had become entangled in her predicament with Madara Uchiha, and what was meant to be nights for [Name] giving her daddy some casual sugar, turned into an diabetic sugar addiction. 

It was baffling really, how as children, people can be better in following orders than they can be as adults. And for someone like [Name], who had been studying psychology for years now, and began to work with the theories, one would think that practicing what she preached would be easier; she was great at helping her clients, but not much at helping herself. 

“Make sure you don’t go with strangers” — a lesson that had been engraved in children at school and from their parents for their own safety. It was one of the most basic rules of common sense to evade danger; however, it was the rule [Name] failed to follow. Instead of not going through with her fixed date with a sugar daddy, who was a complete stranger and who knows pose what danger, she had gone through with it. And she had not even taken any caution to have their first meeting in a public place, no. She had gone to his home, which was the only place he accepted for their meeting, because she was too anxious to say no or not go through with it. 

She really wondered how she was able to help her clients so well when she could not even manage her own anxiety. 

So, now, here she sat. Since by Ino’s definition, [Name] was a walking fashion disaster, the blonde had refused to let her go without her help. Their tastes differed, but even [Name] had to admit that Ino had done an incredible job in helping her choose an outfit that was suited to her tastes. Granted, it was skimpier than what she usually wore and more figure defining, but it did make her look really nice. She did not look like a savage mess with evident dark eyebags who appeared to have just gotten out of bed and went to work straightaway like she did on a daily basis. But she felt exposed and uncomfortable in the setting she was not accustomed to.

The penthouse she had been invited to was extravagantly luxurious; the small dining for the two of them (her and soon to be her sugar daddy) was right next to the giant window in the living room that showed a beautiful night view of the Konoha city. Lighting in the room was ambient and romantic, and there was a small pizza, that looked ridiculously expensive for what it's worth, and red wine settled before her. While she did not want to indulge in such luxury, feeling on the edge of the seat because of how her sugar daddy to be was scrutinizing her with calculating onyx eyes, and never being the one to refuse free food, she mindlessly ate it, refusing to meet his eyes. 

“You know, usually you’re supposed to make conversation and sell yourself to try and convince me of why I should stick with you rather than someone else,” Madara spoke, and this was so abrupt and unanticipated on [Name]’s part that she froze half way through biting her food. Her cheeks felt hot in embarrassment, and she awkwardly coughed loudly before looking up at Madara. Although he found her antics to be somewhat adorable, he kept a straight face. After all, to gain the attention of a man of his status, there were many who did the strangest things to appease him. Madara was not a man to be tricked so foolishly. 

“Why should I sell myself when you haven’t convinced me to why I should be your….uh, sugar b-baby rather than s-someone else’s?” [Name] responded. She had started off strongly, but near the end when it came to referring to herself as a sugar baby and realisation of the situation sunk in, she felt herself become more flustered. 

Now, it was not odd for people to be intimidated by Madara. However, acting in confidence at the same time, and to question his authority, that was new. The corner of his lips twitched upwards in amusement. He leaned back in his chair and raised a fine black eyebrow at [Name]. 

“And why should I have to sell myself to you? I’m the one who, essentially, is paying for everything,” he challenged, and [Name] scoffed at him. 

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s really costing you,” she mumbled under her breath, before clearing her throat. “Someone else can pay me too.” 

“You had no reviews on your profile, you’re lucky that I even chose to click on it. Usually, it’s hard to get started since no one bothers with anyone with no reviews.” 

[Name] shrugged. “That was your own choice, don’t shift the situation onto me. And besides, how do you know it's only reviews that count online? I might know a lot of other sugar daddies I had in my past that desperately want me but it's lucky that I chose to give you, a stranger, the chance.” 

Madara was amused by the fact that [Name] had used his own logic against him, and could not help but smirk. Even though it was more than obvious through her behaviour that she was an absolute newbie to this, he decided to humour her. 

"Well, I am an Uchiha," Madara said simply, as if that sole reason explained everything. 

[Name] blinked in confusion. "Uhhh, okay…? Well, I'm [Surname]. That explains why you should choose me.” 

This time, her response really did leave Madara confused. His eyebrows were furrowed and there was clear confusion written on his face. 

“You don’t know the Uchiha?” he asked incredulously. The urge to sigh in an exaggerated manner and snap at him was strong, but [Name] decided against it. With the way he spoke in that condescending tone, and expected [Name] to treat him as if he was of utmost importance, made it more than obvious to her that he was used to being treated as the highest authority. Perhaps he was of importance and not watching herself around him could lead her into a huge mess. But [Name] did not particularly care about his status or whatever he had going on that made him expect her to seemingly kiss the floor he walked on. If she cared about authorities and sucking up to people, then she would not be training to be a therapist in the first place. There were going to be times when she would have to fight authorities and regulations with her sweat and blood for the sake of her clients. And really, if [Name] did care, she would not have been here in the first place -- having dinner with a complete stranger. 

“Uh I do?” she said, but it sounded more like a question. Madara opened his mouth to respond to her, but he shifted the focus of the conversation to another topic. He felt even more perplexed by [Name] now because how could she not know the Uchiha? 

“Nevermind, it’s not of importance. Tell me, why are you in this line of business? You don’t seem,” fit for it, he wanted to say, but chose his words carefully. “The type to want to do this.” 

In response, [Name] felt flustered. She wondered if it was really that obvious that she was not used to it and Madara was simply humouring her. She could very well tell him the truth that it was because Ino had tricked her into it. However, that would make her seem gullible. Now that she may be committing to this, she knew she needed to build a good reputation for herself. She decided to tell the half-truth. 

“I need the money,” she answered in a murmur, before she brought the glass of wine to her lips, and took a huge drink from it. 

Madara watched her with analytical eyes as she downed her alcohol, taking no moment to savour the taste. He had also noticed how she was on her third plate of their dinner and wondered if she had any decency and how she was capable of eating so much. 

“Your job doesn’t pay you enough?” he asked in a genuinely concerned tone, before he followed [Name]’s example and downed his remaining wine in one go too. He had never done that before, and after finishing it, he had to admit there was an odd sense of satisfaction of not savouring its every taste and drinking it all together at once. 

Madara was staring at her with anticipation and worry embedded deep in his ebony coloured irides. Frankly speaking, [Name] had not have someone look at her with such concern in a long time. Generally, on the rare occasions she did speak freely about her worries, whoever she shared her problems with would give her their own input rather than simply listening to her and asking her the right questions that would help her discuss or figure out her own problem. The sight of it made her heart beat faster, and she unknowingly found herself talking before she even what she was doing.

“It’s not that… Well, actually I don’t even work. I barely have time to breath, working is my last priority right now,” she murmured, nervously fiddling with her fingers, as she observed Madara from the corner of her eye.

“While I cannot relate to your financial struggles, I understand the situation you’re in. Becoming so busy because of a goal you once had, that you question whether it’s even worth pursuing it anymore. You lose sight of who used to be and the things that brought you pleasure. There’s always something to do that you can’t even remember the last time you truly felt alive,” Madara said thoughtfully, and his words caused [Name]’s eyes to widen. 

“And no matter how much you want to try and change things, it just feels like you’ve been stuck in the same cycle and it keeps repeating over and over and over again,” [Name] murmured, sighing dejectedly. “I really hate the world.” 

Madara chuckled at her declaration as he lifted another bottle of wine that was on their table. 

“Me too. Why don’t we discuss more things we hate about the world and learn about what we in common over more wine?” he suggested. The edge of suspicion and tenseness he held before was no longer present. Instead, he was now feeling much more relaxed than he had in awhile, and felt intrigued about [Name]. The twinkle in his eyes in hopes to talk to her more caused her lips to stretch into a cute flustered smile. 

“Sure.” 

____________________

It was the week which was like the last and there was no change but stress levels felt higher. Even after a decent ten hours sleep, [Name] felt exhaustion crawling like bugs underneath the epidermis layer of her skin. Dark bags were swelled prominently underneath her eyes. Her hair was tied carelessly in a messy bun that fell to one side; it wasn’t pretty like the one’s beauty gurus showed. It was loose but the knot was tight enough to make the weight of the hair feel too evident with each passing moment. Taking a quick sip from her steaming mocha, she greeted the administrators on the front desk that were the first point of contact between clients and the therapists who worked further back in the office. This office was where [Name] was presently working to gain practice experience in her second practicum. Generally, students in training were simply meant to observe and learn. If permission given by their supervisor, they could step in. But in [Name]’s case, for the sake of the story’s plot, the office she had chosen this time were understaffed. And since she already had finished one practicum and had quite a lot of other experiences from volunteering under her belt, she was trusted to work independently with whatever clients may be assigned to her. 

“Good morning Moegi and Konohamaru,” [Name] greeted, and the two looked up from their screens. When they noticed it was [Name], they beamed at her and returned her greeting in response. 

“How was your weekend [Name]?” Konohamaru asked, as he handed her the appointment schedule of everyone she would seeing today. 

[Name] was ready to give her autopilot response of it being "okay" and then quickly shooting a "how about you" like she usually did. However, before those words left her mouth she paused to ponder: truly, how had her weekend been? 

It was okay. Actually, it had been more than okay.

It had surprisingly been a lot of fun. When she had went through with her sugar daddy date, she had somewhat expected that she may end up having sex with a rich man she would not have been attracted to and receive compensation for sleeping with him. But that had not been the case. Madara was quite attractive, and although the dinner date had begun with a few subtle jeers thrown at each other, she had ended up having a good time with him. The fact that she felt safe enough to be vulnerable with him in the way she didn't even feel that level of comfort with her friends, and shared things she hadn't even known she was bottling up - - it was such a profound experience. To go from discussing their hatred for many things, to confessing secrets and feelings they weren't judged for, but rather, listened to, to getting so drunk that they sang cheesy songs and ended the date with their own unplanned karaoke night, it left an odd feeling of satisfaction and joy in [Name]'s chest that she had not felt in a while. The knowledge of knowing that she would be seeing Madara again soon left her feeling embarrassed. 

"It was," she began, and she covered her face with one hand to hide her embarrassment. "Really nice and fun. I had a good time," she murmured somewhat quietly. Then, right away, she scurried off towards her office before they could question her further or talk about their own weekends.

[Name] had left Moegi and Konohamaru surprised with her response, and the two turned to each other wondering if they had heard right. 

It was after lunch when [Name] was indulging in some [favourite fruit] iced tea, hoping some sugar would help her stay awake when she had an appointment with a client she would be seeing for the first time. She had settled her drink on the table beside her, walked through the hallway, and into the main office with reception and waiting area for clients. 

It was there she saw a young man not much older than herself. He had warm ivory skin and black hair bangs that framed his face. The back of his head looked like a duck’s butt. He must have heard her footsteps because before she even called out his name, he had looked up. When her eyes met his, she took a sharp intake of breath because he looked oddly similar to Madara. The way his obsidian eyes scrutinised her made her feel uneasy. Nonetheless, she gave him, what she hoped appeared to be a welcoming and reassuring smile. 

“You are Sasuke?” she assumed, and he stood up. 

“Hn,” Sasuke responded simply, and at the lack of any greeting or even a facial expression caused [Name] to sweatdrop. But nonetheless, she carried on like she did with all of her patients. 

“Before we start your session, did you want anything? A hot chocolate, coffee, water?” 

Sasuke raised an eyebrow at this before he replied nonchalantly. “A black coffee.” 

[Name] nodded and just before she could speak once more, a head of messy black curls invaded her vision and she was greeted with a smile that was almost too falsely cheerie for her taste. 

“Hello! I’m Shisui, Sasuke’s cousin. And stoic face over there is Itachi, Sasuke’s brother. You forgot about us Miss. Therapist,” Shisui greeted brightly. At his exuberant persona, Sasuke glared at him. The one who he had introduced as Itachi, sighed, and [Name] looked at them apologetically. 

“Oh sorry, I didn’t notice you. Can I get anything for you as well? If you’ve been with Sasuke until this point, I can assume you’ll be staying with him.” 

Itachi nodded and stepped up front and held out his hand for [Name] to shake, which she obliged to almost instantly. 

“Yes. We are here to oversee my little brother’s recovery at my Father’s orders and make sure there is progress,” he explained simply. His words were harsh. It was evident in the way Shisui had become tight lipped, and how Sasuke had now averted his glare onto Itachi. [Name]’s eyes shifted to observe their reaction and then returned to Itachi who was looking at her stoically. It wasn’t too obvious. However, she noticed with the way Itachi’s jaw was clenched more tightly than it had been before. This change in his body language clearly indicated that he had not wanted to say what he did and he did not want to be here. And from the intense glare Sasuke regarded him with, [Name] safely assumed that whatever was going on with Sasuke, Itachi seemed to be a part of it. Underneath Itachi’s pretty eyes, she noticed a sense of tiredness that was all — physical, mental, emotional and more. She saw that same sense of exhaustion on her own face each day. 

The session had not even started and this was already turning out to become so complicated. [Name] hoped she would still have her sanity by the time she graduated and came to do this full-time. There were some of her colleagues who never bothered with rules or following basic procedures to assure their clients comfort and wellbeing. Lucky for her clients, she did. And when she needed to, she would bend over backwards and willingly go beyond her capabilities for them. 

She knew from the way they all held themselves, and particularly with how Itachi had spoken that they were of important status. Their ‘father asked [them] to be here’ was a subtle way of implying that she could get in huge trouble if she did not comply with them. But [Name] just didn’t care. 

She turned to Sasuke with a stern look on her face and motioned towards Shisui and Itachi. 

“Do you want them there to support you or would you feel more comfortable with just you? Either way is fine. It’s your decision,” [Name] said smiling at him. 

The three raven-haired males that had been introducing themselves moments ago stilled and their eyes widened in shock. Shisui was the first one to snap out of it. 

“Uh, Miss. Therapist, I don’t think you know—“ 

“I know what I’m doing. Please refrain from implying such things and let my client decide for himself,” she retorted, narrowing her eyes. Shisui went to warn once more, but he was stopped by Itachi, who shook his head. 

Itachi’s gaze went to Sasuke, and then back to [Name] as he spoke. 

“I’m sure she knows what she is doing. We all wish for Sasuke’s wellbeing. We won’t intrude if he doesn’t want us to,” he proclaimed. That was his way of hinting for Shisui to drop the subject, and reassuring both Sasuke and [Name] that he was on their side, particularly with Sasuke, letting him know that he would not let their father find this out. 

“Aniki,” Sasuke murmured in disbelief, staring at his brother for a few moments. Then, he looked back at [Name] to see she was still giving him the same sweet and gentle smile she had greeted him with. 

Maybe, perhaps, this time, signing up for therapy would be worth it. Maybe he could allow himself to talk to her and not fear judgement and consequences like he had with his previous therapists. 

“I’d like it to be by myself,” he murmured, looking away from her with slight pink cheeks. As his eyes had drifted away from hers and met Shisui’s, who gave him a warning look, his shoulders tensed and his eyes snapped back to [Name] right away. “P-Please and t-thank you.” 

He did not need to glance at Shisui again to know the oldest male was now grinning at him. 

Seemingly, his politeness seemed to be unexpected and Sasuke wanted to scoff at how [Name]’s eyes had lit up in pride. It almost annoyed him because did they really think he was that dimwitted? 

“You’re welcome. Now, follow me please. Shisui and Itachi, our session will be around an hour so you can come to pick him up in that time,” [Name] said. The two of them nodded and waved the two goodbye as Sasuke followed after [Name] to her office. 

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A/N:  (tbh, uhhh, I plan for this to be a yandere story [whispers: eventually] but this chapter is fluffy. I honestly don’t know where I’m going with this or if I’ll add more Uchihas as love interests and turn into a reverse harem for [Name], I’m gonna make shit up as I go along and hope it turns into something decent lol gang gang. I just need to write a story I can write without worries and just enjoy the process of it rather than caring about where it leads. So yeet. I hope you join me on this journey <3)

[thequalityproblem]

Ugh. The Understaffing Issue

“Understaffing” is a term often used in the hospital to describe a whole host of issues, including:

Not having enough nurses to staff the UNIT appropriately.

Basically, each nurse has to suck it up and take on more patients. 

Not having enough nurses to staff the HOSPITAL appropriately.

Some nurses will have to suck it up and work on a unit they are not familiar with

Having enough nurses but not having enough support.

Nurses are having to do their own job plus someone else’s (like being charge nurse or being a tech/nurse’s aide)

Having enough nurses and enough support, but the patients are high acuity.

The patients are sicker and/or require more resources which means more time is spent in the patient’s room, which means less time for the other patients.

Generally, understaffing is a topic that I try to avoid at all costs. It always feels like a lose-lose situation. 

From the point of view of the hospital administrator, its a barrier that I have no control over, but it constantly impedes all my genius (yep, I said it) ideas about how to meet the goals I was hired to meet.

From the nurse’s point of view, this is the hard stop. The most basic element to providing good patient care is to have an appropriate number of patients to care for, and if the hospital can’t do that for me, I’m not doing shit for them. 

Pardon me for a moment while I trail off into a weird discussion about Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Remember this thing? We learned about it in school? Ringing any bells? 

Basically what good ol’ Mr. Maslow was getting at is that, as a human, we have basic, primal needs that must be met (like shelter, air, water) in order to achieve the next level of motivation. I’d like to point out that this just a theory and there are a lot people out there who are smarter than me who like to argue the validity of this pyramid, but understand that I am using this as a METAPHOR for this whole understaffing thing.

If you look at this from the perspective of the nurse, the most basic needs are the things that provide career stability. Patients to care for, supplies to do that, support departments to make sure everything runs smoothly.

Here’s the part that is going to be a bit hard to swallow if you’re a hospital administrator: all those quality initiatives and metrics that teams of people have been hired to implement and improve upon - as the RN, those are at that highest level of the pyramid. Not to say the RN doesn’t care, I don’t know very many nurses to want to INCREASE your CAUTI rate, the problem is that it’s not even on their radar because they constantly feel like they are trying to make it to the end of the shift alive.

The hardest need to satisfy for nursing is safety. Nurses need to feel safe taking care of patients. Literally, the hospital’s most elemental task is to keep people alive. So if the nurse isn’t confident he/she can do that, you need to find a way to fix it.

Okay, but how do I fix it?

Well, that’s a little bit difficult. In fact, its an elephant... and the only way to eat an elephant is to take it one bite at a time. (I’m actually not really a huge fan of this saying, but you get the point. I’d much rather compare this task to Bruce Bogtrotter having to eat the entire chocolate cake in Matilda - I was pretty emotionally invested in that scene - also disgusted and proud - just a swirl of emotions, really.)

The best way to start the understaffing conversation with staff is to be as honest and transparent as possible. And I don’t mean explaining budget constraints and quarterly projections... I mean something like this:

Establish a staffing grid

Determine what your “hard line” is and put together a risk assessment  and detailed plan for the different scenarios you will encounter.

Example: at what point do you pull nurses to other units? What about techs? What is the magic number for allowing a unit to stop taking admissions? At what point does the hospital go to an “all-hands-on-deck” approach where all licensed staff are required to assist?

This is the point where the conversation usually stops. The grids are developed, the numbers are put into a policy or an operating directive where they hide in the nursing office and the poor bastards who are in charge of staffing and supervising take the brunt of the resistance when staff are upset about the situation.

In order to make a meaningful impact on staffing issues, you HAVE to keep going. The conversation has to be loud and in people’s faces.

Share the staffing grid with all staff - with a thorough explanation of how those numbers were determined (evidence based? provide the articles. Show the staff that you have done your homework and aren’t just picking nurse/patient ratios based on cost, that you care about their safety.)

Post the grids EVERYWHERE - this is going to be hard, because this part requires total accountability and transparency with staff, administration, and patients.

Update the grids with ACTUAL DATA. Just like with every other quality metric that is tracked on each unit’s KPI boards, keep track of staffing. Daily. Show staff how the daily assignments are lining up with the established plan. Change the perception of understaffing by being able to point to the actual data that shows that the last time we were “truly” understaffed was over a month ago.

Then (and this is my favorite part because I am a total data nerd) track and trend the data!! 

Track on the boards how many times nurses and techs have been pulled to or from the unit. Which units are the biggest offenders? Which units are the least common offenders? Why?

How many all-hands-on-deck days have there been? Is it rare or do we need to re-assess the grid?

Are there days/weeks when staffing is worse? Why?

Look at open unit positions, and examine all the factors that may have contributed to the issue. Let the data drive the change.

And finally but most importantly: practice extreme consistency. If you are going to take on the issue, do it all the way. If the plan says that an all-hands-on-deck situation has just been triggered, you need to dedicate your day to putting ALL HANDS ON DECK. Not just those hands that can probably reschedule the meeting this afternoon or those who can maybe cut lunch a bit early to help with a few tasks. The only way this whole plan will work is if it is taken seriously EVERY SINGLE TIME. I’ve been in these situations, and let me tell you, if I am told to drop everything I am doing to help the ED nurses, I’d better see the entire C-suite down there with me, because the first time I realize I’m down there alone while everyone else gets to go back to their offices, I’m going to realize that I’m the sucker and go back to what I was doing. And what does that say to the staff? “We care about your really hard day, but only kinda. Like, I care enough to tell other people that they should help, but I really can’t because I’ve got like a hundred meetings this afternoon” By the third or fourth time that everyone in administration is having to drop everything they are doing to go into staff, changes will start to happen. People will start paying closer attention to the data in order to fix the problem because it becomes everyone’s problem, not just the over-worked, over-burdened nursing staff.

The problem will not get fixed over night. But just by having the conversations and STAYING CONSISTENT with the developed plans, staff will start to see that their concerns are being taken seriously. Just like the light in the parking garage. (Same basic approach, just on different scales).

In order to finish off Ms. Trunchbull’s big, disgusting chocolate cake, keep everyone in the loop. Talk about what the data showed. Explain future plans to fix the problem and how it is being managed in the meantime (example: “Today sucks. There are too many call-offs, not enough people to cover, we tried all of our established and agreed-upon plans for improving staffing levels for you today, but unfortunately it can’t be done. In the meantime, we are going to have lab cover all your draws today. OR, we called in extra transportation so you won’t have to do any yourself OR we’ve had pharmacy change up a few things so that they can accommodate your requests quicker to help you out today.”)

Bottom line: SHOW the staff that their concerns and the hospital’s concerns are the same. When staff feel heard and safe, then maybe you can come at them with the whole “update your whiteboard” conversation.

[in-between-thoughts]

Race De-bait-ing.

When is feminism not equal? Well, according to many, when it fails to address the experience of those who have been historically-ignored over the decades of the existence of this movement. Trans women, black, Latina, queer, disabled, sex worker, poor women, their stories and lives were glossed over in favour of those who were less seemingly disruptive to the status quo.

A lunch intended to simply celebrate women creators in Hollywood, inadvertently put a white-hot light on this issue. Salma Hayek, director, actor, and activist had sparked the conversation when she declared for women to eschew the victim label and to embrace themselves as something beyond. Jessica Williams, former correspondent for the Daily Show, brought up a question: how does one do so, when they’re under attack every day, in regards to their blackness and their womanhood?

What ensued was a conversation that had occurred many times on forums, but never on such a large scale. To condense it, it went something like this:

BW: “To say that the feminist/woman experience is universal ignores how feminism intersections with things like race, class, sexuality, gender identity, etc. Many of us, especially black women, are under attack daily for simply existing.”Everyone else: “Aha! Now you’re buying into that state of perpetual victim status and unjustly separating yourself from the rest of us.”

This cognitive impass was demonstrated by William’s frustrated silence when Hayek and actor Shirley MacLaine implored her and other black women to “Find your inner democracy.” Many white and women of colour often have difficulty accepting the possibility that the realities of Black/Trans/Sex Worker women are different than theirs, and it results in frustrating conversations for everyone involved.

I did too, somewhat. I understood it topically, but it hadn’t really sunk in until I had viewed it through the lens of my own journey of healing from trauma.

And it’s safe to say that what black people and black women in particular endured in the United States of America for centuries, can be referred to as a type of collective trauma.

First, I’ll briefly detail my experience. For the first 17 years of my life, my mother abused me very badly. Over half of my existence was ruled by physical and emotional abuse, dominated with instances of brutal punishment and the emotional grinding down of my spirit. Either I got too big to hit, or she saw the Light, but she decided that what she had done was wrong, and stopped.

Now she’s a kinder woman, full of adoration and praise for me. Now things are completely forgiven and forgotten, right?

Not really.

To assume that her kindness now has made up for everything in the past,is downright foolish. Worse so, is when I am faced with her downplaying the abuse, or rewriting history entirely. Naturally, I react with outrage, as her actions and words both absolve her of her accountability and leave me stuck with my worst memories. Her response? To tell me to “Forget it, as it’s in the past,” “it wasn’t that bad, you’re just making yourself a victim.”

Starting to sound familiar?

Trauma is a form of legacy, and like all inheritances, they are heavy, complicated things. I was abused, for it was what my mother experienced as a child, and hers before that. Over the years, this heritage grew and grew, until it was a veritable megalith, dropped into the lap of a small, innocent child. To avoid being crushed, it was on me to break this boulder down into dust, and so I did.

Bit by bit, piece by piece, I chip away at it at every instance of every day.

This is an exhausting and time consuming task, but this is only a burden of my past — there is also the rest of my life and the things I face every day, too. Growing as a person, intricate and messy social interactions, careers, even just making sure I pay rent on time, these act as little rocks, seemingly invisible, but rocks all the same. They trip me up, weigh me down, and sometimes, they’re even hurled at me by invisible assailants from all directions.

And the whole time, I’ve got people asking me why the hell I’m having so much trouble, as they walk around with their smaller* burdens and challenges.

*people have larger burdens, people have burdens that seem insurmountable. It’s all relative, but compassion is key.

This whole geologically-fixated analogy was to demonstrate how life may feel like a chainsaw juggling act on a razor-thin tight rope for black women**. “Finding the democracy within” is not exactly easy if you’re trying to work through historical trauma, climb the corporate ladder, scale Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs and enjoy a damn meal at a fancy luncheon without having to provide Bite-sized Teachable Moments (TM).

**and trans women, sex workers, disabled women, latina women, people struggling with countless other things.

I certainly am not declaring that I alone have discovered new ground, as it’d be quite rich of me to say otherwise. Honestly, I could very well be completely off-course, but for me personally, viewing it through the lens of my own journey in surviving trauma and trying to deal with the challenges of daily life, really helped crystallize it. The intricacies and magnitude of the legacy of pain, accompanied with the bullshit people deal with and injustices they experience on an institutional and social level… well, it’s hard to do all that, and to just be.