I’d watch my friends in Class H, the top group, the smart ones, the ones I wanted to be with, not just for the challenge, but for the craic. I wasn’t in that group, but I wanted to be. And wanting it was enough to make me work harder than most. I’d go home and spend double the time on the same work, determined to make it. I always believed I could.
By the time I finished school, I was still hiding my dyslexia well. But everything changed at 18 when I had my son. Suddenly, I had a new reason to push harder. He became my driving force.
Even as a child, after losing my dad at nine, I knew I wanted to be a nurse. I didn’t know how I’d get there, especially with my learning difficulties, but I knew I would. I felt something had been missed in his care, and I wanted to do better for others.
Thanks to age-based entry routes, not grades, I found a loophole into higher education. I scraped through that first year, just barely passing. But when I was interviewed for nursing, I got in. My passion spoke louder than any academic record.
Still, nursing school was brutal. The workload was heavier for me. What took others two hours took me five. Clinical practice? I thrived. But on paper, it was a constant uphill battle. Every assignment came back with the same feedback: “Please read before submission.” And believe me, I had, multiple times.
But I got through it. I became a nurse. Two weeks post-C-section, I was at an interview for my first post, and I got it. Four months later, I was on the ward. At my first appraisal, I was asked where I saw myself in five years. “Community nursing,” I said. I’m sure she wrote it down thinking, we’ll see. But I saw it clearly. And I made it.
After three years in community care, I felt the pull toward leadership. I knew I could make a difference. But leadership meant more university, and the thought of it made me feel sick. This time, I knew I had to stop hiding. I declared my dyslexia. That was a turning point.
With the right support, real, targeted support, I started thriving academically. I wasn’t just passing anymore; I was enjoying learning. I finally had the tools to express what I understood so clearly in my head. Even my communication improved. The exhaustion I’d carried for years began to lift.
Eventually, I returned for further qualifications - health assessment and V300 prescribing. It triggered so much academic PTSD, I nearly didn’t go through with it. But I met with the university and told them the truth: I don’t want to just scrape by anymore. I want to learn. And they helped me do exactly that.
Now, as a District Nursing Advanced Nurse Practitioner, I’m the first in Western Health and Social care Trust to hold this role. I got here because I refused to give up and because, finally, I got the support I always needed.
Dyslexia doesn’t go away. But the right support can change everything. I masked my challenges for years. Others shouldn’t have to. That’s why I speak up now, to show what’s possible. To encourage future nurses not to hide, but to seek help and reach their potential.
We need more leaders who understand what it means to work twice as hard to get half as far, and to lead with empathy, not ego. Because the most resilient, passionate workers are often the ones who had to fight just to stay in the game.
I’m one of them. And I wouldn’t change a thing.
