“I Can Relate” … Don’t Fucking Say That

7.10.2025 | VUMC Waiting Room | Year 8 NED

I’m sitting in the waiting room at Vanderbilt, waiting for my turn for bloodwork. The lights are bright, the small talk around me hums, and I’m wondering if I’m even checked in because it usually doesn’t take this long.

I’m also wondering why I never just ask. Why I don’t speak up. But I know why.

It’s not that I don’t want help. It’s that anxiety has a way of making me feel like speaking up equals being a bitch…and trust me, I don’t have the energy to navigate how I might be perceived right now.

Because here’s what today is about:

Confirming 8 years NED.

Eight years.

No evidence of disease.

I’m claiming it. I’m speaking it. I’m breathing it in. There is no other option but health. I choose to believe that.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not feeling everything else.

The fear. The holding of breath. The pounding of my heart.

White coat syndrome is real. Let’s not pretend it’s not.

And you know what makes it harder?

When people say, “I know how you feel.”

Or worse…”I can relate.”

No, you can’t.

It’s not that you’re wrong for wanting to connect. I know the intention. But the impact?

The impact is that it feels like you’re trying to stand inside my storm without ever having walked through my thunder.

Because in this moment…no one is in my shoes.

Not your cousin.

Not your uncle.

Not your friend’s third-time-divorced grandmother.

Not even you.

Please stop trying to relate your trauma to mine like it’s a one-size-fits-all T-shirt.

You don’t have to understand to support someone.

You just have to sit with them. Listen. Be there.

It’s okay to say:

• “I don’t know what this feels like, but I’m here.”

• “I see you.”

• “I don’t have words, but I’m holding space for you.”

That means more than any recycled sentence about “relating.”

Also, friendly tip: “I can relate” is the worst way to start a conversation.

It’s self-centered. It’s dismissive. And in the middle of hard things, it makes someone like me feel even more isolated.

I’m not angry. I’m not cold. I’m just being real.

Now back to the waiting room.

I just had my blood draw. My usual phlebotomist did it…painless, kind, happy.

And I love that about Vanderbilt. The people here genuinely feel happy. It’s a small thing that makes a big difference.

And writing this?

It helped me breathe.

It helped me come back into myself.

I used to hate writing. But now?

It might be the very thing saving me today.

If this hit you in the chest, if you’ve ever been in a waiting room like mine, if you’ve ever wanted to scream in a quiet place…then maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to “relate.” You just have to nod and say, “I’m here.”

Because I am here.

I’m living year 8 rolling into year 9 after these damn results come back. 

And I’m telling the story that’s still being written.

-Beth B.Blissful

P.S.

And just in case you wanted it…here is my Gratitude Rampage for today. 

Our community of amazing people had a Gratitude Rampage today. My “MOM” in the community did an all call. So here it is

    •    Seven years NED (confirming 8 today!) 

    •    My sons who keep me rising and reaching

    •    Sheri, my steady, my soul, my brilliance

    •    My gastric sleeve journey and all the strength it represents

    •    The community we have built, Master of Badassery lives in all of us

    •    The strength to move, train, walk, sweat, and show up

    •    A mindset built on resilience, growth, and truth

    •    My humor that makes the hard stuff lighter and the good stuff even better

    •    The leadership I live, not just teach

    •    The students I have touched—they are part of my legacy

    •    The breath in my lungs

    •    The eyes that see beauty, truth, and everything in between

    •    The ears that hear laughter, love, and life

    •    The heart that beats with fire, hope, and gratitude

    •    The ordinary moments…coffee, music, movement, stillness

    •    My health, hard-earned and sacred

    •    My curiosity and the hunger to keep learning

    •    My words and the way I speak life into others

    •    My future, unwritten and burning with possibility

    •    My scars, each one a story, a battle, a badge

    •    My voice in this world…it matters, and I will never silence it

I AM EXCITED FOR LIFE