In August 2018, I left mental health nursing to stay at home full time with my kids. Including my training I had been nursing from October 1996 and it’s all I ever really knew, starting at the age of 19.
I’ve never been one to push myself; I went in, did my job to the best of my abilities and went home. All very well and good, I hope I helped some people along the way and was pleasant and professional to work with.
Reflecting on my imminent departure from nursing, it suddenly struck me that I was the same grade as when I started. Absolutely nothing wrong with that, nothing at all, but the thing that struck me the most was that I had not made an active decision in this. Twenty years or so had passed by, and I had been a passenger in my life rather than taking control and looking at improving myself. It was a pretty sobering realisation, frankly, and far too late for that chapter of my life.
Procrastination has always been an issue for me, fear has always ruled my life. If something was hard to do, if I couldn’t grasp it immediately, it would likely slowly evaporate from my life. If I did manage to keep going with anything, if that routine got disrupted due to unforeseen circumstances such as a poorly child, or school-holidays, chances are I would struggle to pick that habit back up again.
It’s been a long-standing dream of mine to write a children’s book. A head full of ideas and dreams is just the beginning, sitting in front of an empty page is both terrifying and difficult. Every so often the words flow, more often than not it’s a struggle. When it’s a struggle, more often than not I’d give up. So far, so typical me.
I had promised myself that by the time I turned 40, I would have submitted work to an agent and now, at the age of 43, I’m having those pangs of regret again. I can’t change the way I have been, but I can try to take control of my dreams and know, one way or the other, if they are realistic or not. This blog could well be a great way of keeping me in check and accountable.
Thanks for reading.