After my youngest daughter fixed my computer, I overheard her talking with one of her friends saying it was just an "ID ten T error.
They both starting laughing.
Not wanting to appear dumb, I walked away and wrote down the code. ID10T. She was never my favorite kid anyway.
Not because she’s not strong, not because she isn’t smart,
but because she’s already married to chaos.
Twelve-hour shifts, emotional exhaustion, adrenaline crashes, hospital politics, and strangers dying in her hands
you’re marrying someone who’s drained before she even gets home.
And when she does?
You’re not her peace.....you’re her project.
You won’t get softness.....you’ll get survival mode.
Not “How was your day?”
But “Don’t talk to me....I’ve been standing for 14 hours.”
Her empathy dies at work.
Her patience gets left in the trauma ward.
You get the leftovers.
And here’s the unspoken truth
nurses are trained to fix people.
So when you're broken, she won't support you...
She’ll treat you.
She’ll diagnose your moods, pathologize your silence,
and emasculate your masculinity, one clinical word at a time.
She’s used to control.
She’s used to calling the shots.
She doesn’t come home needing a man
she comes home expecting a subordinate.
So unless you’re built for that battlefield...
stay out of the trauma ward disguised as a marriage.
She saves lives—but she'll bury yours slowly, in sterile doses.