Does my Grey Matter?
I still don’t really think so, but I figured that I wanted a creative (or rather, emotional) outlet in my life, so I’m back here, screaming into the void, looking forward to what my echo has to say.
At a quick glance, I saw that my last post was written after I finished year 1 of medical school. Of course, I want to carry on from where I left off. How does your back feel after being on the edge of that seat for so long?
Over summer, I tried to overhaul my life. I thought of year 2 as my big opportunity to make up for countless lost and wasted opportunities in the land of yester-year (year 1).
I spent a great deal of time doing nothing. I read a lot of books, and actually developed a nice routine, of getting up at 7 each morning, to eat a hearty breakfast and read for a good while.
I’ve kept the same routine, but the reading has sadly fizzled away and onto the list of things that I should be doing, but gave up because I’m lazy. No, the real reason is that I’m busy. Or so I tell myself.
I began running each morning on the criminally-underused treadmill we have at home, but upon returning to uni, the hobby of running couldn’t hack the first week. No, actually it barely made it through the first day.
At one point, I was meditating daily, in order to give my mental health a bit of a boost. It was actually working as well, but for some stupid reason I gave it up. It’s amazing that I can’t be bothered to do something that helps me. The human brain is so dumb.
I bought myself a camera at the beginning of summer, for my birthday. I love it. I’ve been out shooting a bit and have a fair bit of pride for some of my photos. I shoot only black and white, as colour just doesn’t feel right to me, I can’t explain it, but when I try shooting in colour, I hate everything I take. Anyhow, I’ll talk about that another time.
The point of this post is that I feel lost. I had a lot of excitement for this new year of medical school, but like everything I look forward to in life, I’ve been screwed by my impossibly high expectations.
I’m exactly a week before my first exam of the year, (Nov. 14th) and I don’t feel at all prepared. I don’t think I’ve prepared enough, at all.
On top of this, I just don’t know what I’m doing at the moment. I feel very, very little enthusiasm for medicine. I think I like the romanticism of saving lives and having my life be worth living as a result. The harsh (present) reality however, is bucket-loads of work, most of which will be irrelevant by next year.
Going to any and all sessions feels like a chore now. I need time to study, I need time for myself.
I spent 4 months doing nothing. I need time to flesh out my thoughts and set my mind free for a while.
My social life is still practically non-existent, at least it feels that way. I miss my old friends, but I think they were more my friends in my head, than in reality.
I just really don’t know what I want right now. A hug would be a start, I suppose.
I’m scared I’m not going to ever be able to get my life straight. I’m really scared of that. It’s second year of med school and I feel as connected to people right now as I did back when I started high school, when I dared not to speak a word to the people around me in my new form class, due to the black boot of anxiety pushing my spirit down between the fibres of the carpet underneath the desk.
It’s almost 2020. I want more than anything to have children, but obviously a precondition to that is to find someone first. I’m not anxious about approaching people anymore, only about the fact that I’m not sure I would be able to be a part of a healthy long term relationship. Anyways, soon it’ll be the decade when I want to start a family (well I’d like to have a kid once I’m 28/29: in 2028/9). Time goes quicker as you get older, and I’m not getting any younger. The clock is ticking for me to start living a functional life.
I do have a plan, well kind of, and I’ll explain it another time. Right now, it’s 10:35pm, and I’m in a quiet corner of the library, sitting alone, and wishing I wasn’t.