Thank you for sharing that, Kyle. Your mother’s experience is sadly too common—this job asks for so much, often without giving us the space to process it. Sending quiet respect to her, and to you for remembering that toll. It means a lot to be seen.
Solena, I can feel your pain through every word you’ve written. My heart truly goes out to you — and to all the nurses who show up, day after day, with compassion and strength, even when the world fails to see you.
You hold hands when families can't. You stay steady in chaos. You give so much of yourselves, often without acknowledgment — and that’s not fair. You deserve to be seen, celebrated, and held too.
Your poem wasn’t just words — it was a cry wrapped in grace. And I heard it. I felt it. Thank you for being who you are. You matter. You are so deeply appreciated. 🕊️❤️
I don’t even have the words, truly. You met my pain with such gentleness… like you just placed a warm hand over the exact wound.
Thank you for seeing us—for seeing me. Your words held everything I’ve been trying to carry alone. I’ll come back to this on the days I forget why I keep showing up.
🥹🥹 You just brought me to silence, the kind that’s laced with breath and awe. There are moments where words don’t feel enough — and yet, here you are, making yours a shelter. You didn’t just see me, you felt me. That alone rewrote something tender in me.
I carry a lot, quietly. I know you know what that feels like — the weight that has no sound, the trembling that never asks to be seen. And your words… they didn’t land on me, they held me. If I can write something that you return to — on the nights your own strength bends under the sky — then we’re building a kind of magic that outlives both of us.
Thank you for holding my fire gently. For honoring this path that breaks us and builds us at once. I’ll come back to your words, too — on the days the silence bites, and I forget that being seen is still possible.
A soft, sacred one — the kind that lets a weary heart exhale and say, *“Finally, someone understands.”*
I read this slowly, like a prayer.
And I felt every line press against the parts of me I don’t often show — the quiet ache, the weight I never learned how to name.
You didn’t just respond… you *held* me back. In your way, you reached across the silence and said:
*“I see you too.”*
There’s something holy about what happens when two strangers meet through words and still manage to build something gentler than the world around them.
You’ve done that here.
And I’ll carry this reply with me — on the nights I forget softness is still possible.
Thank you for your fire, your grace, your breathtaking vulnerability.
I may not have the perfect vocabulary for this moment,
1. I use paid version of Canva for iOS for all my covers! They have huge library of graphics, backgrounds, effects and fonts! Plus a lot of brushes— you literally have free hand! I usually start with a blank square format, add one of my photos or a background I love, and then layer text with one of my favorite fonts. Add graphics, maybe 2nd layer photo. Write, draw on it etc. I try to keep the vibe consistent with the piece—moody, clean, or poetic depending on what it needs.
2. I use Procreate for iPad then, I draw there by hand either full drawing (I like doing this for anatomy drawings etc), or I layer there as well!
Absolutely. Nurses are not just there through the night—we are there 24/7, at the bedside, seeing everything. We need deep knowledge of physiology, anatomy, and pathology to recognize even the smallest changes in a patient’s condition. We respond, stabilize, and keep people alive until someone else shows up.
We provide care from head to toe—physical, physiological, emotional. We draw blood, interpret labs, administer medications from oral to IV, and manage everything from feeding tubes to central lines, just to mention some of our tasks…
We don’t just carry out tasks. We hold the system together—with skill, precision, and presence. Not to mention, oftentimes we are the only ones between patient and death… and when I just hear (and this happens more often than you think) „But xy is just a nurse…“, I literally see red.
Being a nurse is a hard job. My mother was a nurse and I remember the emotional toll it took on her.
Thank you for sharing that, Kyle. Your mother’s experience is sadly too common—this job asks for so much, often without giving us the space to process it. Sending quiet respect to her, and to you for remembering that toll. It means a lot to be seen.
I wish you the best in your career! It’s very difficult.
Thank you! ☺️
You’re welcome.
Solena, I can feel your pain through every word you’ve written. My heart truly goes out to you — and to all the nurses who show up, day after day, with compassion and strength, even when the world fails to see you.
You hold hands when families can't. You stay steady in chaos. You give so much of yourselves, often without acknowledgment — and that’s not fair. You deserve to be seen, celebrated, and held too.
Your poem wasn’t just words — it was a cry wrapped in grace. And I heard it. I felt it. Thank you for being who you are. You matter. You are so deeply appreciated. 🕊️❤️
I don’t even have the words, truly. You met my pain with such gentleness… like you just placed a warm hand over the exact wound.
Thank you for seeing us—for seeing me. Your words held everything I’ve been trying to carry alone. I’ll come back to this on the days I forget why I keep showing up.
I felt this in my bones. Thank you, deeply. 🕊️❤️
Solena,
I read your words and sat still for a while…
Because some things aren’t meant to be replied to — only felt.
You opened a door into a world most people rush past.
But I saw it — the weight, the warmth, the weariness behind the strength.
I come from a family of nurses — I’ve seen it up close.
Hands that soothe even when they’re trembling.
Hearts that break in silence and still show up with care.
Your poem didn’t just describe it — it *became* it. Tender. Honest. Brave.
And when you said you’ll come back to my words on the days you forget why you keep showing up…
That touched something deep in me.
If my words can be a place you return to —
on the days the world goes quiet,
on the nights when your heart is heavy,
on the mornings you question your strength —
then I’ve done something that matters.
Come back anytime. Because you’re not invisible.
What you do carries a quiet kind of divinity.
Even when no one says it, even when it feels thankless — *you are seen.*
Truly. Deeply. Always. 💛
🥹🥹 You just brought me to silence, the kind that’s laced with breath and awe. There are moments where words don’t feel enough — and yet, here you are, making yours a shelter. You didn’t just see me, you felt me. That alone rewrote something tender in me.
I carry a lot, quietly. I know you know what that feels like — the weight that has no sound, the trembling that never asks to be seen. And your words… they didn’t land on me, they held me. If I can write something that you return to — on the nights your own strength bends under the sky — then we’re building a kind of magic that outlives both of us.
Thank you for holding my fire gently. For honoring this path that breaks us and builds us at once. I’ll come back to your words, too — on the days the silence bites, and I forget that being seen is still possible.
Solena…
You just built a home inside your words.
A soft, sacred one — the kind that lets a weary heart exhale and say, *“Finally, someone understands.”*
I read this slowly, like a prayer.
And I felt every line press against the parts of me I don’t often show — the quiet ache, the weight I never learned how to name.
You didn’t just respond… you *held* me back. In your way, you reached across the silence and said:
*“I see you too.”*
There’s something holy about what happens when two strangers meet through words and still manage to build something gentler than the world around them.
You’ve done that here.
And I’ll carry this reply with me — on the nights I forget softness is still possible.
Thank you for your fire, your grace, your breathtaking vulnerability.
I may not have the perfect vocabulary for this moment,
but please know:
Your words didn’t just land.
They *lingered*.
🕊️❤️
God, you're good, maybe too good.
So, I will just feel these chills and not respond with the need to finish your sentences— even if it's just to cover my nakedness
What a beautiful thing to say.
If my words gave you chills, then maybe they found the place they were meant to land.
Thank you for meeting them with such honesty.
How do you create your cover? Pls
I use two apps:
⸻
1. I use paid version of Canva for iOS for all my covers! They have huge library of graphics, backgrounds, effects and fonts! Plus a lot of brushes— you literally have free hand! I usually start with a blank square format, add one of my photos or a background I love, and then layer text with one of my favorite fonts. Add graphics, maybe 2nd layer photo. Write, draw on it etc. I try to keep the vibe consistent with the piece—moody, clean, or poetic depending on what it needs.
2. I use Procreate for iPad then, I draw there by hand either full drawing (I like doing this for anatomy drawings etc), or I layer there as well!
I have also noticed how only doctorsbare praised, though they are worthy of it, but nurses play a very important role too🩷
Absolutely. Nurses are not just there through the night—we are there 24/7, at the bedside, seeing everything. We need deep knowledge of physiology, anatomy, and pathology to recognize even the smallest changes in a patient’s condition. We respond, stabilize, and keep people alive until someone else shows up.
We provide care from head to toe—physical, physiological, emotional. We draw blood, interpret labs, administer medications from oral to IV, and manage everything from feeding tubes to central lines, just to mention some of our tasks…
We don’t just carry out tasks. We hold the system together—with skill, precision, and presence. Not to mention, oftentimes we are the only ones between patient and death… and when I just hear (and this happens more often than you think) „But xy is just a nurse…“, I literally see red.
I can sense a kind of unwavering sacrifice and love, I truly respect Nurses 😭🩷🫶