In the summer of 2014, I was in the middle of my senior year of nursing school, taking classes, working, and doing my best to survive the New York City summertime heat. While working on an assignment one evening, my mother called me to share the news that my uncle had been in a near-fatal motorcycle accident. He was put on a ventilator and was required to stay in the hospital for an extended amount of time. This news was incredibly upsetting as I have always been so close to my uncle.

I pushed on through my classes and day-to-day routine, but I noticed that I was suddenly sleeping more, eating less, and often feeling unfocused and unmotivated. I wrote it off as stress from school and work, especially since it was my last year and I was expected to graduate that upcoming spring. Reaching out for help was a fleeting thought, and I firmly decided that I could handle these feelings on my own.

It turns out, I was wrong. Feeling down, unmotivated, and overwhelmed consumed me. I received a C minus in one of my summer classes, adding on to a C minus that I had already received earlier in my nursing school career. I frantically reached out to my academic advisor, who monotonously told me that if I was struggling with a personal issue, I should have spoken up sooner and that two C minuses are not acceptable in the program. I was still thinking I could speak with my professor directly about the grade, but my professor would not budge on the matter. Shortly after, I was kicked out of nursing school in the fall of my senior year.

I packed up my recently furnished dorm room and had to say goodbye to my roommates who were confused and concerned. I had to say goodbye to my friends of four years. The reality that I would not be graduating after years of hard work crushed me. The panic hit me like never before. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t feel anything but my lungs constricting. I felt like I was going to explode. A counselor diagnosed me with both panic disorder and generalized anxiety disorder.

I moved back home in a frenzied state and tried to figure out my next steps. No nursing school would accept someone who was dismissed for poor academic performance. The panic attacks only got worse. I had them at least three times per day. Most people would have given up at this point and settled for less, but I had always known that nursing is the only career I wanted for myself. I would not concede defeat, no matter how much I was hurting and no matter how impossible things seemed.

I began seeing a regular therapist to get my life back on track. Things seemed to be improving. During the winter of 2015, about four months after my dismissal, I was driving home from a therapy session down a road I’ve known my whole life. Suddenly, a car pulled out in front of me, catching me completely off-guard. I slammed on my brakes, but it was too late. I smashed into the car head-on. My insides were screaming panic, but I couldn’t move. Bystanders got out of their cars to help, but my doors were locked and could not be opened. People were asking me through my window if I could move my legs, and I didn’t know if I could. I heard sirens and thought to myself, I have to be dreaming. The paramedics had to cut through the top of my car, hoist me out, and strap me to a board to be taken into the ambulance. Panic engulfed me.

I thankfully left the hospital banged up and bruised, but did not sustain any serious, life-threatening injuries. I did sustain a treatable back injury. After my recovery, I applied for a job at an urgent care clinic because I wanted to still have a form of medical practice in my life. I thought it would help, both with my training as a future medical care provider as well as my with my mental well-being. I was happy to get the position, but that also meant having to drive again. During that period, my drives to work consisted of multiple instances of pulling over because of countless panic attacks. Slowly and surely though, I got there. I kept up with both my therapy sessions for anxiety and physical therapy for my back.

That spring, I attended the graduation ceremony of the friends I was forced to leave behind. I can’t begin to describe how happy I felt for them. At the same time, I worried that they would end up leaving me behind. I felt awkward being with them in public because I didn’t want people from outside circles asking questions that I was too embarrassed to answer. I didn’t know how to fit in anymore with my best friends. This caused a panic that I could never forget.

Rather than closing in on myself, I mustered up the courage to apply back to the same nursing school that I was dismissed from for entrance the upcoming fall semester. I received an interview request again, which I graciously accepted and prepared for rigorously. On the day of my interview, I walked into a familiar building, unable to control my shaking body. As I sat across from my old professors, I was asked what will be different this time around and why they should allow me back. I told them the truth. I spoke about my journey dealing with anxiety and ways that I am now able to manage it, despite how challenging it may get. I highlighted my relentless drive to be a nurse, and that if the past year wasn’t enough to stop me, then nothing ever could. I was accepted back into the program and my faith slowly started to be restored.

I was taking classes with students who had known each other their entire nursing school careers. I also struggled to grasp the material at first, being that I was rusty from having taken time off. I felt disoriented and like an outsider, but I didn’t let that distract me from achieving greatness. I made the dean’s list at the university that only a year ago had told me that I wasn’t good enough. I eventually made friends with my classmates and strengthened my relationships with my old friends.

That May, I graduated proudly. All my friends and family were there to support me. Panic took the backseat.

After passing the NCLEX, I worked in a couple of different clinics and health systems, gaining invaluable experience. Despite my fear of rejection, I applied and was accepted into a Master’s program for midwifery. I am now about to graduate from my nurse-midwifery program, stronger than ever. I have discovered my interests within the nursing field, which include researching the United States’ shockingly high maternal mortality rates and normalizing breastfeeding, especially among women of color. Now, I have been invited to become a member of the Sigma Theta Tau International Honor Society of Nursing. Once more, I have to ask myself if I’m dreaming, only this time it’s under entirely different circumstances. I won’t lie, a sense of underlying anxiety lives within me. Still, I can now recognize that I have valuable coping mechanisms. I have learned through therapy, a group of friends and family members that are my rocks, and a sense of pride and empowerment in what I have accomplished that cannot be taken away. I am eager to make my mark and I can’t wait for what will come next.