Holistic Nursing BSN College Application Essay

My application essay for my BSN. Realizing how important mental health is, and sharing my journey with alcohol.

Chiron’s Lantern

“Nobody escapes being wounded. We all are wounded people, whether physically, emotionally, mentally, or spiritually. The main question is not, ‘How can we hide our wounds?’ so we don’t have to be embarrassed, but ‘How can we put our woundedness in the service of others?’ When our wounds cease to be a source of shame, and become a source of healing, we have become wounded healers.” -Henri J. Nouwen

I’ve heard the calling to be in the medical field for as long as I can remember. Born with a congenital hearing disorder which required multiple surgeries throughout my childhood, I knew I wanted to be just like the nurses and doctors who cared for me. I worked as a certified nurse assistant through high school and college, then as a pharmacy technician while I went to nursing school. In my soul I knew I was on the right path, and everything fell into place as I completed the coursework, clinicals, and boards to obtain my deeply coveted nursing license in 2009. I’ve been a nurse for over 12 years now, growing and learning not only in my profession, but spiritually, mentally, and emotionally. With awe I look back at my life and nursing career, and see how every experience was a stepping stone on my way to fulfilling my true passions: holistic healing and mental health advocacy.

Beginning my career on a transitional care unit that accepted patients no other floor would—patients with drug addictions that left them with endocarditis and spinal infections requiring weeks of IV antibiotics, as well as the sweetest white-haired ladies recuperating from broken hips. With as many as 14 patients needing medications, dressing changes, IVs, and assessments, I quickly learned time management and the need to tailor my professionalism to my patient. The younger, jaded patients required more boundaries, yet by accepting them where they were in life and not judging them, they gradually opened up to me and sometimes would reveal details of their lives that were heart-breaking. No one grows up wanting to become a drug addict, but not all are fortunate enough to be born to parents or meet adults willing to teach them how to cope with life’s stressors without self-medicating and other illicit behaviors.

I moved on to emergency nursing, which exposed me to even more of the human condition. Patients hooked on pain medication, alcohol, or suicidal because in their minds, they truly felt this empty existence was their perpetual reality, and slipping away was the only answer. My county has the highest rate of child abuse in our state, yet our CPS is ineffectual. Not because they don’t care, but because they just don’t have the resources and staff. Watching children be discharged, silently whispering a prayer because it’s all I can do. Multiple children have tragically and senselessly lost their lives with active CPS cases, yet I can’t blame the parents, because how does one know any different when it’s the only way they’ve ever been shown?

Summer of 2020 I found myself working at the county jail/prison. Ironically enough, two of the inmates I encountered daily were parents waiting trial for the death of their child while they were high on meth. I refused to judge them or treat them differently. Outside of work, I was fortunate to meet a yogi who told me his experience of prison for drugs back in the 1970s. While serving time, a man came in and taught him yoga—because of this he changed his life around and never used drugs again. Almost 70 years old, he’s one of the hardest working carpenters I’ve ever met. He was fascinated by my job, and eagerly offered to volunteer his time to teach yoga to the inmates.

I shared his story and offered his number to the medical director and , the regional Planned Parenthood nurse supervisor only to be told “No thank you” as I was shown the door. Behind me I could hear them cracking jokes about “hugs for thugs”. The cold realization that our prison system was this broken—that it was simply about money and not reformation was a brutal awakening. I couldn’t make a difference…all I could do was float (dissolve so they wouldn’t try to sell/overdose) their insanely high doses of antipsychotics in water and watch them swallow. Every fiber in my soul rebelled and I could not continue being a part of this system.

A spiritual awakening in 2018 helped me connect these stepping stones of my career. I could never figure out why I didn’t feel content where I was for long, and I soon realized I was just a glorified drug dealer, handing out pills but never seeing patients truly heal. Mental health was the root of so many illnesses, yet resources were expensive and scarce.

I started drinking to self-medicate my anxiety as a new mom and to cope with stressful ER shifts. I was the definition of a functional alcoholic—the alcohol soothed the constant nervous hum under my skin and allowed me to be ‘normal’—to numb the unbearable emotions I felt witnessing a parent grieve their 16 year old son who just committed suicide. Wine became my reward and salvation, something to look forward to during a busy shift or long day. A childhood spent walking on eggshells and helping raise my younger brothers left me anxious and on edge with my own sons, and I hated myself when I yelled at them, only to see my six year old self reflected in their expressions. Alcohol took the edge off, gave me more patience, made me a better mom, or so I thought.

I hit my rock bottom when I realized how seriously I was contemplating suicide. In my mind, I wasn’t sad or happy. I was horribly numb, empty. In those moments everything was gray, hopeless. If I could have slipped away without causing any heartache, I would have, in a heartbeat. I went through a 30 day inpatient treatment program that helped me realize my co-dependency, shame, and other behaviors. I gave myself permission to follow my spirituality, however it resonated for me, despite what my now ex-husband or society thought. Surrounding myself with mentors and finding my tribe, I started to discover my power and am working to heal my six-year old self that was never allowed to be a child. I’ve forgiven my parents and now have an amazing relationship with both. I realize everything happens for a reason, they did the best they could and I know they love me as much as I love my own sons. I don’t need or want to change them, but I have the power to refuse to accept others’ words if they don’t resonate in my soul.

I left treatment, and went home with my husband for two weeks. Being sober, I could no longer ignore my soul telling me it was time to move on. I naively told myself I wasn’t an alcoholic, I was just unhappy in my marriage. I know two years later, this isn’t true. My life is so good and I’m so thankful—I have no excuses for continuing to numb out. I now know I am an alcoholic, and the physical, emotional, and mental hell of detoxing on my own has made my love of wine disappear into hatred. Instead of a sweet release, I see the last 19 years of my life which revolved around this bottle, my own personal sun in a hell of my own making. Yet everything happens for a reason, and I get why people drink, I understand that abyss where suicide seems like the only way out. Alcohol took away my passion and goals, and left me a shell of a person, content to live a mediocre life. It’s been 23 days sober, and I know now any urge to drink is a warning from my soul that I’m falling away from my life’s purpose.

I love nursing, but I’m so tired of just treating physical symptoms that are obviously manifestations of emotional, mental, and spiritual imbalances. Working with my therapist, I discovered holistic nursing and found an amazing program online to get my BSN. Within minutes of reading the website, I knew this was my next step to fulfill my passion to work with children and young adults, to maybe become the mentor I needed in my life as a child to encourage and explain to me it’s okay to be sensitive, to show them what people pleasing is and why it’s so harmful to the spirit. To learn and teach coping mechanisms that honestly should be taught in elementary school so our future generations won’t turn to alcohol and weed in middle school like I did. Nature, animals, the night sky, plants, sunrises, intuitive art, herbal teas, books, meditation, yoga and writing heal my soul so I don’t have to suffer living a bleak existence. All of these can be incorporated into holism, along with so many other modalities, to treat mental illness so we an build a life we don’t have to numb out to endure. I see the walking wounded all around me and feel their pain. We can break this cycle and raise our sweet children to know how to cope with life’s arrows.

Holistic nursing would equip me to work with others, to hold out the lantern of hope to those still suffering from mental illness, false beliefs, and fear. I named this essay “Chiron’s Lantern” because the Chiron archetype is known as the “wounded healer” and one I love most.

“Wounded healers are not born, and they are not made…they create themselves through conquering adversity, trial and error and extreme pain and suffering. They conquer fear and find a way to speak their truth even when they are afraid. In doing so, they shine a light for others who are lost and feeling alone, and in return, their inner light ignites with renewed purpose. A purpose greater than they ever could have imagined.” (Unknown—ptsd-home.ca)