10/08/2026
My identity was my career, but coming home with absolutely nothing left to give the people who actually need me and deserve me is not sustainable.
I’m Not Leaving Healthcare. I’m Leaving the Version of It That Was Breaking Me.
Hear me out…
I never dreamed I’d be doing this.
Actually, I never dreamed I’d even be a nurse.
I don’t remember ever dreaming of a certain profession or saying, “I want to be a ______ when I grow up.”
Then suddenly I was “grown up” enough that I was supposed to decide what I wanted to be and how I was supposed to get there.
And I had absolutely no clue.
I saw my brothers join the military and thought, Hey, I can do that, and it’ll pay for college.
So I did.
I scored well enough on my ASVAB to qualify for one of the “top MOS’s”—medic.
So off I went.
And then I loved it.
Or maybe I was just too stupid to look for another career path. 😂 Either way, I kept going.
I didn’t realize was that I was falling in love with a profession that didn’t necessarily love me back.
Because there IS so much to love about healthcare.
It is a privilege to take care of people at their most vulnerable. There is something incredibly special about being trusted to care for another human being when they’re scared, hurting, sick, or unsure of what happens next.
I deeply love that part.
And I gave that part of myself everything I had.
One year in the Burn ICU.
Seven years in the ER as a nurse.
Eight years in the ER as a Nurse Practitioner—with four of those years also working in advanced wound care and inpatient medicine.
Essentially, my entire 30s.
Nights. Weekends. Holidays.
I was there.
But here’s the part nobody really tells you:
You’re replaceable.
The system doesn’t care how much of yourself you gave it.
Medicine changed somewhere along the way—or maybe I just finally started seeing it differently.
Patient satisfaction scores. Algorithms. Metrics. Productivity. Patients demanding tests or treatments based on what AI or Google told them. Spending half the day untangling BS instead of actually practicing medicine.
And somehow, every buck that gets passed eventually lands with the person actually taking care of the patient.
Healthcare can also be brutal for women.
We’re overlooked.
Called “just the nurse.”
Called “the help.”
Dismissed.
I’ve birthed babies and returned to work six weeks later.
I’ve pumped between patients.
Worked entire shifts without eating lunch.
Gone hours without drinking water because food and drinks weren’t allowed at the nurses’ station.
“Breaks”? What are those?
There was always another patient. Another chart. Another task.
See more. Do more. Bill more.
We take better care of our patients than we do ourselves—and somehow, we’ve been taught to wear that as a badge of honor.
Come in on your day off.
Work the holiday.
Pick up the extra shift.
Stay late.
Do more.
Give more.
Some of the best clinicians I know are leaving healthcare entirely.
I’m not.
But I did leave the corporate version of it.
Because I’m not pretending anymore that it loves me back.
(I mean…how delusional was I? 😂)
For a long time, my identity was my career.
And I sacrificed for it.
But coming home with absolutely nothing left to give the people who actually need me and deserve me is not sustainable.
And it isn’t fair.
I am so much more than my profession.
So now I’m figuring out something completely different.
I’m starting a business from scratch—but not just any business.
A healthcare clinic.
I’m learning how to navigate healthcare outside of the traditional system. How to operate without relying on insurance. How to build a business. How to learn every role when you’re starting from the ground up.
But more than anything, I’m trying to figure out how to stay in a profession I love after it nearly broke me.
Because before this, I spent MONTHS researching ways out.
Business.
Taxidermy. Seriously.
The military again.
Forensics.
Pathology.
You name it—I probably Googled how to make a career out of it.
But every option seemed to require more school, more training, more years, or more time away from my children.
And that was something I was no longer willing to sacrifice.
So here I am.
Not walking away from healthcare.
Just trying to build a version of it that works for me, too.
A version where I can still care for people.
Still practice medicine.
Still do the work I genuinely love.
But also have something left when I go home.
For my husband.
For my children.
And for myself.
I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing half the time. 😂 I’m learning business, taxes, compliance, marketing, operations, scheduling, supplies—and about 400 other things nobody teaches you in NP school.
But I’m figuring it out.
And maybe there are other nurses, NPs, PAs, physicians, healthcare workers—or just burned-out professionals—sitting at home Googling completely different careers because they’re wondering how much longer they can keep doing this.
If that’s you…
Maybe the answer isn’t always leaving what you love.
Maybe sometimes it’s figuring out how to do it differently.
That’s what I’m trying to do.
And if you’ve felt this too…
Let’s figure this s**t out together.
-Faith Williams, NP
