07/06/2026
I need to be honest.
Placement is amazing. I’m learning so much, growing in confidence, and getting one step closer to becoming the nurse I’ve always wanted to be. In fact I’m only 10 weeks of placement from achieving my biggest dream.
But it’s also taking everything I’ve got.
Every week I pack up, head away, spend my days trying to absorb a mountain of information, care for patients, keep up with assessments and study, and then come home on the weekend completely exhausted.
My family gets excited because Mum is finally home.
And I get excited too.
But the reality is that most weekends I walk through the door running on fumes. My body feels heavy, my brain feels foggy, and all I want to do is sleep.
I feel guilty about that.
Guilty that my family gets the leftovers. Guilty that the people I love most, my biggest supporters, get the version of me that is tired, sore and struggling to stay awake. Guilty that I can’t always be present when they’ve spent all week waiting for me to come home.
People see the physical side of chronic illness, but what they don’t see is the invisible exhaustion.
The POTS. The dysautonomia. The chronic fatigue.
And then there’s the autism.
For weeks at a time I’m away from home, out of my routines, surrounded by people, constantly socialising, constantly learning, constantly trying to be the professional version of myself. I am almost never alone unless I’m asleep. There is very little space to simply exist without expectations.
Autistic masking is exhausting. It’s monitoring your facial expressions, your tone, your body language, your words, your reactions. It’s trying to fit into a world that wasn’t designed for your brain. It’s trying to be fair and reasonable to your housemate when you really just want to go live in your car or be completely mute and invisible.
At home, I’m a bit of a troll. I make weird noises, wander off on random adventures, info-dump about things nobody asked about, and generally exist as my natural self.
On placement, that version of me stays tucked away.
And while the mask helps me function, wearing it all week comes with a cost.
By the time I get home, I’m physically exhausted, mentally exhausted, emotionally exhausted and socially exhausted.
I’m trying to balance placement, study, family, friendships, chronic illness and being autistic in a world that doesn’t always leave much room for recovery.
Some days I manage it.
Some days I don’t.
The hard part is that I still have four more weeks to go.
I’ll get there. I always do.
But if I’m quieter than usual, slower to reply, or disappear for a while, please know it’s not because I don’t care.
I’m just trying to find enough energy to keep showing up.
And maybe, somewhere in all of that, find a little space to be my weird, trollish self again.
