What made you ultimately choose to persevere despite numerous thoughts of resignation?

This question really hits home. As a nurse who's been on the clinical front lines for several years, the thought of "quitting" has probably flashed through my mind even more often than "hang in there."

It feels like my phone battery is perpetually below 10%, always on the verge of shutting down. But somehow, at the last moment, I always find a charging port, just barely keeping me going.

Those Moments When I Wanted to "Throw in the Towel"

Honestly, I could list reasons for wanting to quit all day and night:

Physically Drained: Pulling consecutive overnight shifts, dealing with emergencies during my period, not eating my first bite until 3 PM, coming home too exhausted to speak. My body feels like it's not mine anymore, just a shell for work.
Emotionally Wounded: Facing unreasonable patients or family members, giving my all only to be met with accusations and abuse. Sometimes it feels like my kindness and professionalism are worthless here.
Loss of Purpose: Repeating mundane tasks day in, day out – injections, dispensing meds, charting... Feeling like an assembly line worker, seeing no end in sight and no personal growth. Late at night, I sometimes wonder, "Is this all there is to my life?"
Guilt Towards Family: Always on duty during holidays, unable to be there when family members are sick. This guilt is like a thorn, constantly pricking my heart.

When these feelings pile up to the breaking point, I open job apps, look at the outside world, and think, "Wouldn't any 9-to-5 desk job be better than this?"

But Why Do I Stay in the End?

On the brink of saying "Screw it, I'm resigning tomorrow" countless times, something invisible always pulls me back. For me, it's mainly these things:

1. Those Moments of "Worth It"

This is probably the most important, core reason.

The work is hard, but there are always moments that make you feel it's all worth it. These moments are like a sudden jolt of power to your nearly depleted battery.

It might be the usually grumpy old man who, upon discharge, walks up to you and says sheepishly, "Young lady, sorry about my attitude before. Don't take it to heart. Thank you."
It might be a patient you helped save during a resuscitation, returning months later with their family to give you a commendation banner, gripping your hand tightly, calling you their "lifesaver."
Or maybe it's just a simple, tiny moment: after giving a child an injection, they don't cry but instead say in a tiny voice, "Thank you, Nurse Sister, you're awesome!"

These moments make you tangibly feel that your work matters, that you're helping people, creating value. This sense of being needed and recognized is something many jobs can't offer.

2. My "Comrades-in-Arms"

The hospital is a strange place. It shows you the full complexity of human nature, but it also gives you the strongest "battle-forged" friendships.

The only ones who'll pull all-nighters with you, who'll back you up with difficult families, who'll pat your shoulder saying "I get it" when you're breaking down, who'll vent with you in the locker room and then wipe away tears to fight alongside you again – are your colleagues.

This "comrades-in-arms" bond is a crucial force keeping many of us going. You know you're not alone. There are others experiencing the same hardships and sharing the same moments of meaning. We are each other's "power banks."

3. The "Needed" Version of Myself

When an emergency hits, when the resuscitation alarm blares, that deeply ingrained professional instinct instantly kicks in. You realize the complaining, vulnerable version of yourself vanishes, replaced by someone calm, professional, and decisive.

In those life-or-death moments, you feel your value with crystal clarity – your knowledge, your skills, can genuinely save lives. This intense "sense of being needed" fosters a deep respect and pride for your profession. You feel that despite the hardship, you possess an incredible "craft."

4. A Dose of Reality and "Stubbornness"

Let's be practical. This job is exhausting, but it's stable and pays the bills. For an ordinary person, that's a crucial foundation.

There's also a sense of "stubbornness." I spent so much time learning the profession, getting licensed, honing my skills clinically, accumulating all this experience... Should I really throw it all away and start from scratch just because things are tough right now? This "sunk cost" also makes the decision harder and more cautious.

Final Thoughts

So, what keeps me going through countless urges to quit?

I guess it's using those tiny, shining moments of "worth it" to push back against the immense, suffocating weight of the "hardship."

The urge to quit is like the tide, always surging back in waves. But those warm moments, the support of comrades, the sense of professional identity – they're like rocks on the shore. When the tide comes in, the rocks get submerged, it hurts, but once the tide recedes, they're still standing there.

Persisting isn't about never wanting to give up. It's because at every crossroads where I do want to give up, I find one more reason to keep going.