First things first

I am a newly qualified nurse. However, the journey for me to get from my first day of university in a big new city to being churned out the other end, ready to tackle any plight that came my way, was a bit longer than most. To begin with I was as strong and determined as anyone else. Unbreakable and willing to chuck myself into any situation that arose, especially those that others might even avoid. As we all know, bravery and foolishness come very close together, but I learnt something positive from every experience and I was resolute to let nothing stop me continuing in this way.

Then life got in the way, as it so often happens when you're gliding along nicely with nothing in your way. It's always there to remind you that nothing is easy if you want it to be. My pathetically weak ankles that I inherited from my parental side decided that enough was enough. They were to be used no more! Well, the tendons of the left one thought so, at least. The little tunnel that holds them all in place and allows the foot to move around in its normal fashion ruptured open, allowing my tendons to go where they liked and do as they please. Most inconvenient for someone who like to use my feet, and quite frequently too!

This lead to eventually having to take a year out of studying and watching all of my friend go ahead and graduate without me. But, nothing can stop me, right?!

Wrong.

I took a very very very long time, mostly due to denial and avoidance, to realise that I was suffering. Hard. And my pasted on smiles began to crack a little. Most of the people I had around me at the time, especially those I lived with at the start, were fantastic. But eventually I realised I wasn't right and I wasn't going to be unless I did something. Ignoring this was not going to make it go away.

In conversation, depending on my mood and my audience I will refer to this as me having a mental or anxiety 'wobbles' or 'hiccoughs' or the hard hitting 'complete mental breakdown' with 'anxiety attacks'.

It's easier to use the latter term when I'm brushing it off with a self deprecating joke and fleeting laugh. I am quite open about what I went through as I know I'm not the only one, but people are still reluctant to share as they don't know how the people around them will react, and I'm conscious of who I'm letting myself be exposed to.

So, to bring this post to an end, I am finally starting to feel better and a more myself, although coming to terms with the fact that I think, inside I have fundamentally changed and won't ever be as untouchable as I was as a naive, hopeful, and pretty clueless 20 year old is really really hard, however, going onto the ward for the first time is proving a massive challenge and can sometimes bring up difficult issues for myself when coming into contact with so many different people who all have so many different roles within my life, be it a patient, nurse, doctor, therapists, patients' relatives, or my own family and friends. 

I feel that learning how to cope with those who want to go against me in whatever direction I am feeling my way through this time will be the biggest mountain that I have to climb.

I want to share my stories. They will be funny! I can't help but get myself into bizarre and wonderful situations. I blame my chubby cheeks and unwilling to let my honest and open guard down. Try as I might I am awful at lying, even if it'll save me half an hour of awkward conversations with a 50 year old men who want to buy me perfume!
These stories may be sombre at times but I generally avoid that in my writing. 

Primarily this is an outlet for the struggles and successes I will achieve in the war zone that is an NHS hospital ward in a time of unsupportive austerity and unwilling change.

This is Nurse Bloomers reporting for duty. Deep breath. Here goes!!!