The last (almost) two years have been a rough time for bedside nursing. If you haven’t thought of leaving at least once since, you’re rare. You’re a gem. I’m proud of you for it. Bedside nursing was something I fell in love with. It was something I thought I could do forever. I never wanted to go into leadership, become admin, or advance as an NP/CRNA. I wanted to do bedside nursing for the majority of my career. I wanted to be that seasoned nurse the new grads could turn to for guidance and support.

It’s been 6 months since I worked my last bedside shift in the ER. 

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I was tired, but I kept going because, “Look at the positive impact you’ve made in all those people’s lives.” 

I felt the burnout, but I kept going because, “You’re good at this. People need a good nurse.”

I felt anxious before every shift. I didn’t sleep much. I was constantly awakened by alarms in my sleep, but I kept going because, “Damn. The money is so good right now.”

I stopped enjoying the things I once loved so much, and I found myself scared and crying about activities I was once so fearless to do. My perspective on life (and death) had changed because I was now dealing with them in a different way than I had before. I broke down and cried for what seemed like forever about patient experiences I had years ago, experiences I thought I had “handled,” all while my boyfriend held me. It was then I decided, I couldn’t do bedside nursing anymore. It wasn’t good for those in my care, and it certainly wasn’t good for me. It took from me more than it provided. 

I felt guilty for leaving. Working as an ER nurse brought this kind of honor, and to be honest, it was a little ego booster. I struggled (still do some days) with not feeling like a failure.. for not being able to “hack it,” for leaving bedside nursing at only 7 years, for not being stronger. The thought that I was less of a nurse, less of a person, because I didn’t work in an acute care setting was always there. I said I’d give myself 3 months and I’d be ready to jump back in, but it’s been 6 months now and I’m still not ready. I’m not sure if I’ll ever go back.

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The first two months of fun-employment were great! I did whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. However, I also found myself questioning my decision to leave.. replaying ways in which I could’ve handled the burnout better. As nurses, we’re natural givers. We give so much of ourselves to our patients and their families. We often encourage our patient families to go home and rest (sometimes more so for our sake). We tell them they can’t care for others while neglecting themselves. We warn them about caregiver fatigue and the importance of respite. But we don’t extend ourselves the same kindness and grace we do to others. We keep pouring from our cup until it runs dry. And then?

Who takes care of the nurse who has seen heartache to last a lifetime, compartmentalized, and carried on with their life? Who takes care of that nurse when all of those experiences, that had previously been so well separated from their personal life, come back flooding their thoughts all at once? Who’s left to care for them?

Since leaving the bedside, I’ve worked really hard to shift my mindset. Nursing is not my identity; it’s an extension of who I am. My title or position does not define me. I am not any less of a nurse because I no longer work in a high acuity environment. I am not any less of a nurse because I left bedside nursing. I am still a dang good nurse. I am strong. I am resilient. Repeat these to yourself on those days where you’re just struggling with accepting your nursing journey. Say them out loud, say them like you’re saying them to your best friend. It helps a bit when you treat yourself with that same kindness.

It’s been a painful journey requiring lots of work. I’ve practice mindfulness, have journaled more (I process my thoughts and emotions bette when I see them in writing), and I’ve started therapy. Even though I’m still not ready to go back to bedside nursing, the guilt and feelings of failure have gotten a little better. Growth is a beautiful thing, a painful, yet beautiful thing…

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