‘To everyone who shaped me – thank you’ | Nursing Times

Nursing school wasn’t just about learning how to take blood pressure or pass exams. It was about becoming someone I didn’t even know I could be. When I started, I had so many doubts. Am I too old for this? Too foreign? Too behind?

“Now, with the finish line in sight, I feel a mix of things”

I didn’t say those questions out loud, but they were there, loud in my head. And what I didn’t know then was that I’d find the answers, not from textbooks, but through people who showed up, sometimes without even realising the impact they had.

To the lecturers who believed in me before I did – thank you.

You didn’t just teach, you saw me. You saw how hard I was trying when I felt invisible. You noticed when I was off, when I was drained, when I was about to give up. And instead of letting me quit, you pulled me back with words I didn’t know I needed. You gave me time and space when I felt like I didn’t deserve it. Even when I was stubborn, moody, or one bad email away from walking out, you stayed calm, kind and consistent. I’ll never forget that.

To my university’s leadership – thank you for seeing something in me I hadn’t seen in myself.

I didn’t go looking for a voice. I just wanted to get through this degree. But you gave me platforms and reminded me I had something to say, and that it mattered. You nudged me into spaces I thought were too big for someone like me. I’ll never forget how that felt.

To the practice assessors and supervisors who treated me as more than “just a student” – thank you.

Some of you were the calm in the storm. Some of you taught me things that will stick forever, like how to stay grounded when everything feels chaotic. You let me ask questions, mess up safely and learn through doing, not just watching. That trust meant everything. You didn’t always tell me I was doing great, but when you did, it was real. And when I wasn’t, you helped me get there.

To my fellow students, those very few friends that remained throughout this journey – thank you for the 2am rants, shared snacks, shared notes, shared silence when none of us had anything left to give.

We sat through lectures half-asleep, survived the OSCE nightmares, moaned about deadlines, swapped shifts, cried together after tough days and somehow laughed through the stress. You made this feel less lonely.

To my family – thank you for holding it all together when I couldn’t.

Thank you for the dinners, the rides and the patience. For accepting that sometimes I needed to lock myself away with my laptop and a thousand tabs open. For giving me space to be completely exhausted, physically, mentally, emotionally, and still loving me the same. For not asking questions when I came home quiet. For being proud even when I wasn’t. You didn’t just support me, you sacrificed, too. I saw it, even if I didn’t say it enough.

To the people I met on placement – staff, patients, volunteers – thank you for letting me be part of your moments.

Even the quick ones, like helping someone to get around or holding a hand during a tough conversation — taught me something real. Nursing is messy, hard, often undervalued… but it’s also powerful, personal and completely human. You reminded me why I chose this path.

And to the ones who made it harder – I have to say thank you, too.

You made me question everything. You frustrated me. You doubted me. But in a strange way, you pushed me to get clearer on who I am. You made me realise that I don’t need everyone to like me, understand me or validate me. I just need to keep showing up with integrity. I won’t pretend those moments didn’t hurt — they did. But I survived them. And I’m better for it.

Now, with the finish line in sight, I feel a mix of things.

Pride, yes,  because I kept going. But also sadness, because this chapter is closing. And relief. And maybe a little fear of what’s next. I’m not the same person who started this course. I’m stronger. Softer. Sharper. More tired, yes, but more alive, too.

To everyone who shaped me, in big ways or small ones – thank you.

You’re part of my story now. Part of the way I’ll show up for my patients. Part of the reason I’ll keep going when it gets hard. I’ll carry your voices with me on the late shifts, the scary moments, and the quiet ones too.

This isn’t goodbye. It’s just the end of the beginning.

And I’m walking into what’s next not with all the answers – but with my head up, my heart open, and a fire in me that no one can put out.