When I first got into nursing I really didn’t know what I was getting myself into. I remember the summer of Grade 12, contemplating what my next move was going to be. There seemed to be this pervasive idea emanating from my parents and from my high school that science degrees were superior and would guarantee a job afterward. This made sense to me because my dad, as an electrical engineer, was snatched up from school very quickly into a secure and stable career. It was also perceived in high schools that the students who were skilled in math, physics, chemistry or programming were more intelligent or superior to those that pursued the arts. My conflict was that I knew that I have always been passionate about writing.
Like most children I was talking before I could even talk, mostly nonsensical phrases. I had so much to say about the world that I would blabber gibberish for hours in my own little language and nobody could understand me but my mother. When I say my own language, I mean the English language but severely mispronounced. It took me longer to speak at a level where people could understand me than most. Fortunately, I could read and write before most of the kids in my class. That was my method of communicating. My love for reading and writing grew even more when I started producing poetry at age 7. I had such an intense passion for writing that nobody could stop me from scrawling on any blank page that I could find.
Sometime around the age of 12, the class was introduced to the subject of human anatomy. This was the only other thing that excited me as much as writing did. I memorized all of the major bones in the human body and I built a skeleton out of cardboard named, “Lucy”. Unfortunately, she was decapitated and her body ravaged by my younger brother in her later years, but anyway, I had discovered I had another great interest.
High school finally ends and then there’s the life-altering decision of “what’s next?” and to make matters worse, every adult seems to be watching like a hawk. They are all waiting on your decision, waiting to judge you. I remember my best friend pursuing a degree in music, specifically the cello, and my dad’s response was “What is she going to do with a music degree?” I had two passions, writing or medicine. I considered both but was heavily pushed toward the latter option simply because it guaranteed work. I tried to weigh both options equally but it felt like the whole world was telling me to pursue medicine. What about my happiness? Never mind that, they said, it’s about stability but more specifically it’s about money. I considered a degree in medicine and analyzed the long harrowing experience of being married to a career for 10 years. Alarm bells rang off in my head and I knew there was no way that I could commit to a 10 year relationship at the age of 18. My mother then came up with the idea of nursing. At first, I was appalled at the idea. I thought, how the hell am I going to be a nurse? My idea of nurses from the media were that they were overworked, stressed and grumpy. Still, my mother was able to convince me that it is a rewarding career and that it would be a privilege to work with vulnerable populations. I considered her argument and decided, “Okay, why the hell not?”.
I received my acceptance letter a year later and stared at the carefully folded edges of the envelope. I was not concerned about being declined from the program, in fact, I almost wished that inside the letter would read, “We are sorry to inform you that you have not been accepted into the program”. Somehow, I knew very well that there was a much higher chance that I had been accepted. I ripped open the letter and felt my stomach drop when I read the word, “Congratulations!” printed menacingly on the page. My initial physical reaction was probably one of the biggest red flags of my nursing career.
I wanted so badly to decline the letter, but I once again felt this impending pressure from both of my parents. I was parent-pressured into accepting the application and I dreaded every month that went by before the program started. If I could go back in time, I would tell my 18 year-year-old self to follow my passions and to not let the outside noise of other people’s opinions influence my decisions. Although I have no regrets in pursuing a career in nursing, I think it is important for people to take the time to find out what they are truly passionate about. When we are young, and I’m sure even later in life, we suffer from immense amount of pressures to pursue what we think will impress our peers or more importantly our parents. If I could give out my unwanted advice to others then I would say, fuck everyone else and do what you really want to do because you are more than capable. If nobody else believes in you then just know that I do.