Moments in the Middle

Pressure!! Squeezing from without and within. The only way to rest my brain is internet surfing, lazing around, generally wasting.

What do you want from me??? They have many expectations. Responsibility claws at me, pulling me forwards, backwards, sideways, upside down?

I grapple with the quintessential question asked of every medical student: what type of doctor will I be? The connotation being, are you good enough? The better question being what is it that I really want to do? What can I be good at?

How do I fit perfectly into this medical realm which I am still learning to navigate? I do not believe anyone can be 100% certain of future events. Therefore, I cannot be 100% about which medical field suits me. I explore all my options. The more I know, the more I doubt myself. After all, no choice is perfect.

Personal statement, residency application, research publications – DUE SOON, NOW OVERDUE. Where’s my support? At times, I feel that those whose help I need the most do not want to or will not help me. But perhaps this is because I seek answers to questions that only I can find. No one can tell me what I want or who I am. I proceed independently, but it’s lonely, frustrating.

Exhaustion. LEAVE ME ALONE. I am sick of thinking about what I am thinking about. My thoughts twist into meaningless shapes, words running themselves over. But I cannot stop because my answers yield cracks in their integrity upon further investigation. From where within myself can I find the true answers?

While rotating through my desired program I am told I must be more confident. I cannot answer a question with a question. WE ARE WATCHING YOU.

Do not look stupid. Do not look stupid. Do not look stupid…. But I require the freedom to make mistakes if I am to learn, to improve, to discover my future – do I not?

Applications are banging down my front door. Voices chant, “Who am I?”. I have thought so deeply that I have run out of road. Riding a roundabout, I perform an introspective inquisition until I doubt all my answers. Am I on the right path?

Why do you want to be this kind of doctor? WRONG ANSWER, NOT GOOD ENOUGH. Some of them find my doubt revolting. But I find doubt healthy, reasonable. How can we be at such odds?

Start over. Where am I? I look around at an uphill battle: the task of repeatedly proving myself.

A clinical rotation ends, and I find brief respite from this six-week fever dream. Stripped to the bone, I have had to grapple with my weaknesses, my doubts.

I know who I am. I value humility, diligence and loyalty among many other things. I wield humor as if it were a foolproof solution despite its faults, and I am the first to admit my imperfections and self-doubts. I am also fully aware that my honest admissions make me appear weak to some. I see it in their eyes. However, bravado and pride are weak substitutions for humility. True strength is the bravery we forge when confronting, understanding, and admitting our weaknesses. On that, I can confidently stand strong.