Dear Nursing School Graduate: A Burn Letter from the One Who Didn’t Make It.

First of all… I'm so freaking proud of you.

And that honestly feels like an understatement.You did it. You survived the studying, the sleepless nights, the emotional breakdowns, the early morning clinicals — and still managed to juggle a job on top of it all.

You are a force.And I want to be crystal clear when I say this:I am so, so proud of you.

But if I’m being honest — it’s a little bittersweet.

When you invited me to your graduation, I said yes without hesitation.And I meant it — I am proud.

But I also cried.Not because of you.But because of the version of me who once wanted this so badly.

I remember what it felt like to chase that dream.The hours of studying, the exhaustion, the ambition.I remember being so close to the finish line I could practically taste it.

And then… life happened.Just like that, nursing school slipped through my fingers — with only a few months left.

I thought that would be my life.

I thought I’d graduate, pass the NCLEX, and become a nurse — specifically, a geriatric nurse.

Because man oh man, I love old people.They’ve lived full, rich lives.They have the best stories.They deserve care that’s rooted in kindness and dignity.

I wanted to run a facility I’d be proud to send my own mom to.That dream meant something to me.It still does, sometimes.

Big Dreams, Little Box

As a little girl, I had huge dreams.

Like, Hannah Montana levels of big.The kind of dreams where I was the star of my own show, rocking a double life as a pop star by day and a regular girl by night.

Never mind the fact that I couldn’t sing to save my life — I had the sparkle, and that was all that mattered.

At one point, I thought marine biology was my thing.I was convinced I’d swim with dolphins and study sea turtles.

Then I realized I’m terrified of sharks and prefer the beach to the water, so… hard no.Miserable would’ve been an understatement.

Photography was on the list too.(And honestly, that’s still in my back pocket. Who knows.)

Then came my Harvard dream.I had visions of myself walking the ivy-covered halls and studying under professors whose names were bigger than life itself.

I dreamed of designing my own clothing line that everyone would wear.I wanted to write a bestselling novel — have my words be the ones people stayed up all night reading.

I wanted to write for The New York Times, be on the front page of Forbes, and own a company that shook things up.

I had so many big dreams that didn’t fit inside the little box life tried to shove me into.

But in a small town, the dream often looks the same for everyone.

Where I’m from, it can feel like your only “real” options are becoming a nurse or a teacher.That’s it. Pick one. That’s the whole path.

If I Had Stayed the Path

I would’ve been the teacher with apple earrings and bright red shoes to match.The kind who decorated her classroom with fairy lights, played upbeat music as the kids walked in, and came up with creative, fun ways of learning — just to see the students’ faces light up.

I would have been the sparkly, happy, perky one who made school feel like fun.

And don’t get me started on nursing.I would’ve been an amazing nurse.

I could already picture myself in a geriatric care facility, making old folks feel comfortable, loved, and heard.

I was born for it.

Taking the time to listen to their stories, making sure they were well cared for, and creating a warm, welcoming space — that was my dream.

But the truth is, both paths —As amazing as they would have been —Weren’t meant for me.

Why I Didn’t Finish

The reason I didn’t finish nursing school isn’t what you think.

It wasn’t because I wasn’t smart enough — I made the Dean’s List again and again.It wasn’t because I didn’t work hard enough or because my life was falling apart.

It was because I’m meant for something else.Something different.

And that’s okay.

I’m still figuring it out.Right now, I’m standing on a blank canvas, and I finally get to paint something that’s 100% mine.

That version of me who cried over nursing school still lives inside me.She still shows up sometimes.

But she’s healing.She’s learning.She’s growing.

And she’s starting to realize that her worth was never tied to a degree or a title.

The Baby Steps That Scare Me

I’ve been daydreaming about doing big things for a long time.And to get there, it takes baby steps — which I hate, by the way.

I’m not as naturally disciplined as most people, and I’m still working on that.

But here’s what I know:I feel more aligned with who I am than I ever have before.

As You Walk That Stage...

Know that I’m cheering for you with everything I’ve got.

Because this is your story.And mine?I’m still writing it.

Maybe I didn’t get the cap and gown moment.Maybe my path took a detour that broke my heart for a while.

But now I see it clearly —That wasn’t the ending.It was the spark.

This is my burn letter to the life I thought I wanted.Not out of regret — but out of release.

Because letting go of that version of me made space for something even more beautiful:A future I get to build, step by messy step, into something fully, wildly, mine.

And that?That’s worth everything.

Love,

A nursing school dropout