Personal Demons

Last night, following the third or fourth dissertation-induced stress fest of the week, I found myself nursing (pun intended) my largely self-inflicted wounds over a much-needed beer with a close friend. 

What started off as a productive discussion about where I was going wrong and how best to address my dissertation woes, ended up being more like self confession. Effortlessly I identified the causes of most if not all of my issues, and proceeded to position them as insurmountable obstacles to my qualifying or practicing as a competent registered nurse.
My friend, who isn't in the health-care industry, tried to comfort and appease me by declaring his unshakeable belief that I have what it takes to be 'a great nurse'. Due to a combination of his general loveliness and my unshakeable feelings of self doubt, it's not the first time he has said such things, and whilst I sensed his genuineness, it failed to resonate.

There's a simple reason for why his compassionate declaration was frustratingly ineffective, and that is that ultimately, I don't believe I can or will be that nurse. I've had all-too brief periods of feeling that perhaps I am capable of such things, but for the most part, I've never truly believed it. And therein lies the problem, because to a degree it doesn't really matter whether or not other people believe I can do it, I have to believe it myself. 

To further exacerbate the issue, I have a self-sabotaging tendency to overthink things: generally what that means in regards to my becoming a nurse, is that every identified flaw or undesirable trait, small as it may be, causes me to question my suitability to such a demanding profession - dramatic, but true. This coupled with constant academic and practice assessments, results in a level of self scrutiny that is simply physically and mentally exhausting. 

Eight months to go and I'm both eager and reticent to cross the finish line. I can only hope that the future's bright.