My Journey from Nurse Practitioner to Finding Balance

For years, I wore the uniform with pride. I was a nurse practitioner who had studied hard—undergraduate, postgraduate, and multiple master’s degrees. My goal wasn’t just to earn a title; it was to provide the best care possible. I wanted to answer my patients' questions confidently and advocate for them with strength. Most importantly, I aimed to show up with empathy on their hardest days.

On a personal level, security was essential. I needed a roof over my daughters’ heads, food on the table, and a secure future. Becoming a nurse practitioner made that happen for me.

Eventually, I earned a leadership role coordinating a new service. I poured everything into creating what I believed would be the best practices for patient care. However, our team was tiny, and often, we barely interacted. Each of us faced significant incidents in our patients' lives without the time or space to debrief afterward. We dedicated ourselves fully to our patients but often had little left for each other and ourselves.

Despite my repeated requests, we did not receive the extra staff we desperately needed. My push for official recognition and employment as a nurse practitioner was ignored for eight long years. Yet, I pressed on, working extra shifts to maintain my endorsement while hoping things would improve.

But they didn’t.

When Everything Started to Fracture

As burnout spread through my team, some colleagues started to break under the mounting pressure. One attempted suicide. Then another. Just when we thought it couldn't get worse, COVID hit.

I found myself crying every time I looked at my uniform. The same uniform I had once designed and wore with pride had become a symbol of overwhelming exhaustion. I didn’t want to be a nurse anymore.

The breaking point came while I was standing at the foot of a hospital bed. The patient had attempted to take their life by slitting their throat and both arms. Sadly, this wasn’t an isolated incident; I had seen many traumatic situations before. But that day something shifted deep within me. I felt an overwhelming flood of raw, unfiltered emotions all at once. I knew then: this would be my last patient.

I finished my shift, went upstairs, packed my work bag, and left—for good.

I Forgot That I Mattered

What’s truly heartbreaking is that I still loved my team. I was surrounded by passionate and dedicated nurses—humans who saw a person, not just a patient. Yet, somewhere along the way, I forgot that I mattered too.

I lost sight of my initial motivation. My focus had shifted solely to doing right by others, leaving me without time to check in with myself. Add perimenopause to the mix—which I didn’t recognize at the time—and it’s no surprise I felt emotionally, mentally, and physically drained.

Now, I observe countless other nurses quietly dropping the mic, stepping off the stage, and walking away after years of dedicated service. It’s not due to a lack of care; it’s the result of running on empty for too long.

I still don’t have all the answers. But I know this: You matter. What you feel matters. What you need matters. And we all deserve to feel safe and seen in the place we spend most of our time—work.

A New Path, A New Palette

Now, I find myself in a completely different space—one I never imagined. I’ve started Nomad’s Palette, a creative hobby-turned-business where I design, draw, write, garden, and adventure into what living actually means. To make ends meet, I still do some online nursing work. But for the first time in a long time, I’m exercising, eating better, making art, and discovering a sense of balance.

I still don’t have a clear path forward. But I am learning to share my story. I understand I’m not alone in navigating a significant life change.

If you’ve experienced burnout…

If you’ve stepped away from a job you once loved…

If you’ve forgotten your worth…

Just know: you’re not alone.

The Importance of Connection

In our journey through life, it’s crucial to stay connected to others. Isolation can magnify our struggles and hinder our ability to heal. A supportive community makes a difference. Reaching out for help when we need it is vital. If you or someone you love is in distress, please reach out.

In Australia, contact Lifeline at 13 11 14 or visit lifeline.org.au.

Let’s Keep Talking

If this story resonates with you, I’d love to hear from you. Leave a comment below or subscribe where I share my art, design, and reflections on this wild ride of reinvention.

Thanks for being here.

Meg x