I Am Giving Myself This Day

I need it, my body told me so. My mind did too.

Photo by Madison Lavern via Unsplash

I woke up this morning shortly before I usually do to prepare for work. However, I could not move. It was as if my body laid claim to my bed and demanded to stay put. Any other day, I’d peel myself away from the comfort of a pillow-top mattress and will myself to get up and get going, but today . . . today, I listened to my body and succumbed to a day of rest. The tears lined themselves up accordingly right behind my eyes. I could feel it — it would be a day of dealing with extreme emotions — work would have to wait.

I’d felt off-kilter this past weekend leading into this week, and I ignored it. This was probably not the best thing to do given my current circumstance, but a day off is in play. I communicated with our center manager the need for a mental health day and received a prompt response regarding it and its approval. I want to save as much energy as I can for the days, weeks, and months ahead. I have a few writing projects coming up that will require research and getting into character to pull off these works.

Of late, I am drained both physically and mentally and after yesterday’s minor run-in with a patient who wanted to do what he wanted to do, but found out quickly — we follow the recommendations and guidelines issued to us and our entire medical organization, I am zapped. It takes so much out of me to get through an eight to sometimes ten-hour workday, adding privileged and irresponsible people to the mix regularly, is too much.

How kind are we to our minds, to our bodies when we need to be? Do we give ourselves the time off we need or are we pushing through, trying to get past the pull of a crying body and an aching mind?

When you feel like your stress levels have reached their peak, it might be time to take a quick break to reset.

— Elizabeth Scott, MS

I reserved a “mental health day“ to do exactly this — reset. Recharge. Regain some semblance of myself before taking on the world of screening and surveying patients for Coronavirus, COVID-19 symptoms again. I could feel myself fading, unraveling — if I’m being honest and I had to put a stop to it. I still need to get through the rest of this week.


To read the rest of this article, please see it in its entirety at Thrive Global. 

Article Published in Thrive Global

I recently had an article published in Thrive Global and to say that I am excited about this is a serious understatement. I am grateful to the editors of such a fine online media outlet and will continue to submit work to them in hopes of those essays also being accepted and published. I will share a snippet of the article, This Is My Life Now with you here, then link you directly to it in its published form.


“As a healthcare worker, I know what lies before me prior to entering our doors for work. I know that my day could be a roller coaster ride, a pleasant happening, or an overall chaotic batch of insanity. The problem is, I never know which one will greet me and when. Since the brunt of the global pandemic of 2020 in March of this year, North Carolina has seen its share of turmoil and devastation. According to the North Carolina Department of Health and Human Services (NCDHHS), our total number of active cases is 95,477 as of July 17, 2020, and these numbers are rising steadily.

My official title is Patient Access Specialist and prior to the pandemic, I registered patients for their imaging and invasive procedures at a prominent imaging center in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. My role has shifted in the last few months and I am now the primary screener for our facility. What does this mean? I am the person who surveys patients by asking them pertinent questions linked to COVID-19 symptoms and checking their temperatures before they enter our waiting areas.

What I’ve found out in the last few months: No one tells you how to grieve when you’re a healthcare worker. They do not prepare you for the many emotions you may experience while doing your job. Since the middle of April, I’ve felt the following emotions: anger, sadness, happiness, fear, and disgust. I encounter a wide range of patients throughout my day. Some are oblivious to the severity of this virus, some are flat out stubborn and cannot believe it exists, and others are terrified of even the slightest communication from someone trying to ensure their safety. I have my work cut out for me for at least eight to ten hours each day.

There is no tiny bubble to where I can retreat and my feelings matter not when communicating with and screening a patient. What most of them see is someone before them intervening and disturbing their day when all they want to do is come in, have their services rendered, pay for them, and leave. Things have changed. Our lives will never be the same. Coronavirus, COVID-19 has stuck its toes in the everlasting waters of life and is here with a powerful force and for how long, we do not know.”


You can read the article in its entirety here. Thank you.

Dying Pain

My flash fiction piece, “Dying Pain” has been accepted and published by Editor Kelley Farrell of the brand new, up and coming literary magazine, Pint Sized Lit. Many thanks to Kelley Farrell for hosting this piece!

By: Tremaine L. Loadholt

She sat, rubbing her leg. The ache in her thigh had gotten worse. She took out the prescribed pain medicine and looked at it.

“Oxycontin.”

She popped two pills onto her salty tongue and gulped down a glass of water.

All the pills in the world would never heal her pain. She held years of lies, secrets, and confessions in the depths of her gut.

The pain was making its rounds: head, heart, legs, etc.

Soon, she’d be gone and no one will care. 

Tremaine L. Loadholt has published three poetry books: Pinwheels and Hula Hoops, Dusting for Fingerprints, and A New Kind of Down. She’s editor and creative director for Quintessence: A Literary Magazine of Featured Medium Writers. Her artistic expressions are at A Cornered Gurl, Medium, and Twitter.

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Mister Brown Goes Insane

Mister Brown Goes Insane

An Experiment

Photo by Pixabay via Pexels

An Audio Poem

Mister Brown lives on the corners of
Trident Avenue & 4th Street.
His rickety walk matches the
pace of a snail.
Reverend Burnham says he can’t
be trusted with the church’s
money anymore.
Something about embezzlement
and buying dope.

I stand on the corner, waiting for
The Man to pick me up for work,
and he glides down his steps
like a ghost on a mission.
I keep my wallet close to me.
He waves, I smile.
I don’t say a word to him,
but I watch him as he tries
to figure out how to get
into his car.
The door swings open,
he pushes his disobedient
body inside — closes it.

I notice the gas cap hasn’t
been closed.
I flag him down, but he’s
up the street quicker than my
hands can flail.
He hits a tree.
Cops come.
Reverend Burnham too.
Said he fell asleep at
the wheel.

Funny, I think.
He looked well-rested
to me.


Originally published in P. S. I Love You via Medium.

Alone with my Loneliness

NaPoWriMo #26