Failure & Butterflies at Chinook Fish & Wildlife Area | Leaving Nursing for Youtube

Why I Left Nursing (After 15 Years) to Become a Youtuber

By: Wander Seeker, Licensed Nurse & Travel Blogger

    I finally stepped into the shoes of the Wanderer, a version of myself that’s braver, more intentional, and fully present. Today, I left nursing, the career I’d known for fifteen years, to start a YouTube channel.

  

    I got the idea to start this blog and channel after I saw a video by the creator, Walk With Me Tim. I literally turned to my boyfriend and said out loud "he has the dream job." That idea has stayed with me like a persistent little bug. I devoured Tim’s content and explored some of my other favorite channels, like Nomadic Ambience and Adventures of Matt and Nat. I couldn’t shake creating my own YouTube channel and sharing adventures like theirs. 

    For a long time, I’ve sensed that nursing wasn’t the right fit for me, but it’s taken me fifteen years to finally admit it to myself. Coming to terms with not wanting to be a nurse forever has been both relieving and grief-filled, a feeling many nurses may recognize when they struggle with burnout or question their long-term career. I still work PRN, just a couple of flexible shifts per month. Nursing has been my entire professional identity, earning me respect from family and friends, which makes it even harder to admit that I no longer love my job. 

    I’ve made the decision to take the leap because chasing this dream feels worth the risk. So I’m committing fully to this YouTube journey as the Wanderer, guided by curiosity and choosing a life that finally feels like mine.

Nature Walk at Chinook Fish & Wildlife Area

    September 7th, 2025, marked my first nature hike at Chinook Fish & Wildlife Area. Packing had been a small battle; I’d fussed over every little item, double-checking my new budget recording gear I’d just unboxed from Amazon, imagining the crisp rustle of leaves and the soft whisper of wind captured through its tiny microphones. The hum of my Chevy Malibu felt like a prelude to the day ahead. I tuned to the playlist, Wanderlust, to get the vibes just right.

    Planning the channel and content filled me with nerves and anticipation. I’ve sketched out ideas for videos, imagined the walks I’ll take, and thought about the kinds of experiences I want to capture. It’s exciting to imagine the possibilities and to dream about building something that’s entirely mine. 

    Several doubts were also in my mind. The thought of burning out while chasing a dream that might never come to fruition is heavy. I worry that my family and friends will struggle to understand why I’m pulling away from a stable, respected career for something uncertain. Sometimes I've wondered if I'm too old for YouTube, or if this dream is nothing more than a beautiful illusion painted by younger, more fortunate creators.

    By the time the first trees slid past the car windows and the gravel parking lot crunched beneath my tires, a tense sort of calm had settled in my stomach. The world felt truly quiet for the first time in what seemed like forever. I pulled into a space by the lake where fishermen sat tucked between cattails in folding chairs, waiting for a tug on their lines. (I worried about disturbing people with my filming and looking strange with my phone neck mount.)

    I took a few moments to catch my bearings and prepare my gear, just like I had when practicing the day before around my neighborhood. I plugged in my small microphone, stepped out of the car, fastened the phone mount around my neck, and with a deep breath, I began filming my hike.

When Everything Went Wrong (and Right) 

    Making my way slowly along the perimeter of the lake, I focused into the world around me. The steady chorus of crickets, the soft rustle of the breeze threading its way through the reeds, the rhythmic lap of water as it washed against the shore. The sun stretched warmly across my face, and for the first time that day, the edge of my anxiety began to soften.

    Not far along the trail, I came across a weathered information stand. Its wooden frame held laminated signs with rules and regulations for game hunters, set above a shelf fitted with neat rows of wooden boxes. Each box held clipboards and sheets where hunters should record their game.

    I continued down the gravel path, feeling pulled deeper into the stillness of the land, when suddenly, my phone snapped off the mount. My heart lurched as I scrambled to catch it before it hit the ground. I tried again and again to secure it, but it wouldn’t stay in place for more than a few steps before tumbling free. Add 'going mega-cheap on gear' to my list of YouTube filming mistakes. 

    Frustrated, I turned back toward the car, hoping I could cobble together some kind of fix, but the phone mount refused to cooperate, and worse still, when I reviewed my initial footage, the audio came out warped as if I filmed the whole scene underwater. After just an hour, my plans had unraveled. Feeling defeated, the thought of packing it up and heading home crossed my mind. 

    I drove my car out of the main area, cheeks warm with embarrassment at my earlier missteps. The footage was unusable, my gear was failing, and I felt like I hadn’t accomplished a thing. But just before I left the park, a narrow dirt road caught my eye. On a whim, I decided to embody the Wanderer one last time and see where it might lead. I parked, grabbed my phone, and stepped onto what would turn out to be one of the most incredible trails in all of Chinook. 

Hope, in Butterfly Wings

    I began my trek, holding the phone as steadily as I could, recording only with its built-in microphone. Almost immediately, I held my breath as my attention was drawn to a large tractor wheel imprint pressed deep into the mud where a mass of small butterflies had gathered. Their wings flickered in the sunlight like a hundred tiny specs of living confetti.

    I captured a few shots, careful to honor the moment, and then let my feet carry me down the trail without a plan. It didn’t take long before something extraordinary happened again; a large monarch butterfly landed softly on my index finger, the same finger holding my phone. I took it as a sign that I was exactly where I was meant to be. This simple event ignited a spark of hope for the future.

    I walked until I grew tired, mixing a combination of filming and just embracing being in solidarity on a trail surrounded by nothing but the sounds of nature. I noticed details I’d usually miss: the textures of grass, the sounds of leaves slapping in the wind. (It almost sounds like heavy rainfall. Unfortunately I wasn't able to capture this as crisp audio on this trip.) I discovered a set of fresh deer tracks on my hike back to my car which left me wondering how close I was to a chance encounter with their owner. 

This is why I wander ~

Where to Stay Near Indiana State Parks

    I couldn’t help but imagine staying nearby longer. Across Indiana, there are cozy cabins and cottages tucked near lakes, forests, and state parks. I actually live in a VRBO full-time, which lets me base myself near these wild spots. If you’re planning a trip to Chinook, or any other Indiana nature getaways, you can browse options through my affiliate link. Booking through it supports my channel at no extra cost to you, and maybe we’ll even cross paths on a trail. I leave this experience spiritually renewed, with a fresh sense of independence and confidence. Chinook Fish & Wildlife Area will be forever imprinted on my heart as the inaugural trip in this journey, but for now, I can’t wait to see where the next trail takes me. I've been dying to live, and now I finally am. This is why I started my YouTube channel.