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Invalidation

Eh.

Took a hiatus. I’m sorry. But hopefully I’m back. Making no promises with my crappy schedule. But here I am. As I told one of my patients yesterday: let’s take it day by day, ok?

So. I did 2 months of psychiatry. I loved it, the hospital, the patients (mostly), the staff, everything. I felt stupid at first, then got the hang of it. Then on my last day I did an impromptu half hour teaching session about psychopharmacology with the medical students and I thought: well, I actually know more than I do. And that was awesome obviously.

But then I started medicine. A month of it. It’s been a week. Let’s just say I’ve found myself teary eyed in the bathroom or when I’m alone in the work room at random times. Yeah, it’s that bad.

And it’s not the team I’m working with. The team is great (except the attending, more on that below). It’s the fucking schedule. Minimum 12 hour shifts (that mostly turn to 13 or 14), 6 days a week. I bet you can guess which day of the week I have off, judging by the date on this post….and how frequent my potential posts will be.

The attending I started off with was good. He was chill and relaxed. The attending I have now is an overachiever. And I don’t bode well with that. I’m the chill type of person, by doctor standards, that is. No wonder I ended up in psychiatry, it’s the chill people specialty. I did enough overachieving during my teens. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

I feel stupid 24/7 and it’s taking a toll on me. Last time I did medicine was a year ago. “Rusty” is an understatement for my current status. It’s like I never went to med school and need a refresher course on everything. At least during my 2 months of psychiatry I felt marginally stupid but knew some things. Here it’s just straight up embarrassing every time I have to round on patients in front of the team, especially the attending.

My attending gave me feedback yesterday. He said nothing I didn’t know already, about my performance anxiety apparently having no reason to be as I seem more sure of myself, about how I should brush up on what my patients have to refresh my memory….but what really hit me was him saying “study on those topics even if it’s 2 minutes”.

Haha! Dude. SERIOUSLY?! I have no time to take my trash out in a whole week and my apartment stinks, let alone study. And let’s be honest, I don’t care about the topics. As terrible as that sounds. I just want to be done with these four weeks and marginally pass, setting the bar as low as possible so that the next psychiatry cointern that comes around doesn’t get treated like shit. I just want to know the basics so I’ll know when to recognize a medical problem in my psychiatry patients in the future.

Dude: just tell me what to do. And I’ll do it. Don’t expect me to be interested, though.

He did, however, reiterate something my program director has told me a few times before and something I’m proud of: that it shows I have good rapport with my patients. And really, as long as I know the basics and have good rapport with my patients, I’ll be set. No need for me to overachieve. It’s not like I have the time for it, either way. I’ll worry about studying for real when I get back to psychiatry and neurology rotations (and I’ll have the time for it).

So, medicine…it sucks and I would rather do 10 batches of laundry in a single day than do this for a prolonged amount of time (and trust me, I HATE doing laundry).

Yesterday I couldn’t take it anymore. A patient started masturbating as I was interviewing him. Yes, you read that right. Hello, trigger! Hello, feeling disgusted and used! And of course, nobody in the team gave a shit except the females. Then another patient’s family was driving me nuts with wanting special treatment for the patient.

And already my head had gone over to dark places because another patient was irritated with me when I went to talk to her. I found myself thinking about suicide, yes, solidly for the first time in a while.

I was able to manage the thoughts. But yesterday I couldn’t take it anymore. I got to my apartment at 9:30pm and just started bawling. How can anyone live through this? Why is this necessary? I just want to help people and lead a balanced life. Is that too hard to ask for?

I texted the Russian. And he got worried. He came over. Cuddled and held me while I cried like a baby and just let everything out of my chest. Everything including our current crappy relationship situation, or whatever it is, because both of us have shitty schedules and barely interact. Started crying even harder after I told him I didn’t want to get depressed again (he knows I’ve been depressed, although not in detail….I’ll get around to that when things are more stable between us).

And I guess I just needed a good cry and a day off, because today I feel better. I was able to finally clean my apartment.

I’m not depressed. Not yet. And I hope not ever again. But I know myself better than anyone else, and I know that if I don’t get enough sleep or enough balance in my life, I will fall down that slippery slope quick. And medicine is exactly the type of environment that depression festers in.

No wonder there’s so much physician suicide. But that’s nothing new to me, really. It’s just more tangible when you’re no longer a student and are actually in the front lines. I honestly think it’s unnecessary for one to work 14 hours straight, 6 days a week, and expect to be ON all those hours…sometimes having to skip breakfast or lunch. Nobody gets a sticker for toughing it out. What’s the point, then? My attending went so far as to make the medical students rotating with us come to hospital tomorrow, on a holiday. His reason? “Well, in my day, when I was a medical student…” Seriously dude? Times a-change. Get over it. I have to go because it’s my work, but the med students? Come on.

And…I’ve gotten more shit from my medicine patients in one week than I did from my psychiatry patients in 2 months. Oh the irony. Especially since people think psychiatry patients are “the difficult patients”. Pfffffft. Sure.

I try my best. I really do. And my intentions are good. But it’s difficult not to have your morale eroded quickly with so much crap going on.

And that, my friends, is my current “life”, for lack of a better word. Everyone keeps telling me it will be over soon, but soon isn’t soon enough. I want it to be over now.

And because I like to finish things on a lighter note: it seems things with the Russian are turning more solid/stable every day. His schedule is going to be better now, apparently. Can’t say the same for me, unfortunately. We’ll see what happens.

I feel so fugly.

I feel so fugly I don’t want to go out. And I haven’t during the whole day.

My skin is breaking out like crazy and of course I haven’t made it any better by constantly picking. I don’t remember when was the last time I felt so consistently ugly for so many weeks in a row. 2016 is a good year so far…except beauty-wise.

I feel so ugly it makes me anxious. I don’t want to go out unless I wear truckloads of makeup and even if I do I’m constantly self-conscious about people looking at me and thinking my face is too caked over.

Thoughts like “He’s probably thinking I’m a ‘butterface'” cross my mind constantly. And the worst part is: right now I wholeheartedly believe I’m a “butterface”.

I’m even afraid of the Russian thinking I look nasty or something, or that whenever he looks at me or kisses me he can see the amount of cake I have on.

My skin was moderately bad as a teenager, then I got some respite during medical school, and now I’m back to being a spotty fugly-ball. What the hell happened?

I just want it to be over already. For someone who was badly scarred by bullying there’s nothing worse than having the cause of your bullying turn on you a second time around. What did I do to deserve this?

Why can’t I just be pretty? Why can’t my face just be…normal?

When you’re hungry but you feel emotionally miserable so you decide to restrict/starve because you don’t want to keep feeding the monster (yourself).

That’s my current state.

It’s a mix of feeling great because I’m finally fucking restricting without my parents breathing down my neck, but at the same time feeling like shit because hunger sucks. But honestly, I prefer to starve myself than not doing it and then feeling sad AND fat.

It feels wonderful to starve while miserable. You know why? Because at least I’m getting skinny while miserable. (Yes, I’m fully aware of how horrible that sounds.) I don’t think my piece of shit body and the shit person that I am deserve the goodness of NOT feeling hunger.

To me, feeling hungry means emptiness. But a good emptiness. Empty of life, of soul, of anything that causes pain….I can focus solely on my hunger and how far I can take it, while ignoring the problems and fears in my life (solitude, changes, heartbreak, etc).

I’m always starving for something. Food, companionship, love….there’s always something. And right now I feel I deserve none of it.

Because this guy “dumped” me I now feel obviously very sad, but in addition I feel absolutely despicable, laughable, pathetic, and beyond disgusting. As a result, I don’t want anyone to pick and prod at me, not even myself. I want the disgust that is me to cease existing. And what better way to cease existing than becoming smaller as the seconds pass by and having your body slowly involuting while feeding off itself?

Somewhere in that argument there’s a big, gaping hole. I know it. But I can’t pinpoint it right now and I don’t really care either. I just want to be as cruel to myself as possible…because this guy “dumped” me, because I can’t hold down a romantic interest, because I’m fugly as shit…

I’m trying to explain something that doesn’t make any sense. Bummer. I’ll get back to it later.

In the meantime, I’ll just go to sleep….starving.

In a few hours I’ll receive that email that states whether I matched or not.

And I feel like shit.

Thing is, it’s not exactly because of the Match that I feel this way. I guess it’s just been an all-over shitty day and it knocked the wind out of me. I’m actually kind of oblivious to the Match right now…I’m surprisingly confident (and a little bit arrogant) and whether I matched or not is the least of my worries. I’m pretty sure I matched.

I feel like shit because I let my parents’ feelings get to me.

My mom said to me yesterday: “You’re leaving and I’ll be left here, alone.” When I asked her if she was trying to guilt-trip me she actually answered yes.

Then yesterday I told my dad I’ll be traveling with a friend for a week, just to enjoy my time off, you know? He didn’t like it. His response was an incredulous: “So you’re going to (incredibly famous city) and then what?!” Later in the night he said: “You don’t love me anymore.” Apparently because I don’t accept his affection….but I know it was because I won’t be spending that week here at home.

I’m also traveling in May with another friend. So that doesn’t help either.

Why am I made to feel like shit when all I want is to enjoy my life, grow up, and make a respectable career for myself? Sure, sure, “the empty nest” and whatnot…but really, is this normal? Do other people’s parents make them feel like the worst offspring ever when they go through this?

I mean, really…I’m even afraid of telling my parents tomorrow whether I matched or not because that means I’m leaving far away from home. All the places I ranked are far away, so if I matched it means I’ll be gone come June/July.

Then on top of that my issues with relationships/men. I’m feeling pathetic right now. I feel no man will ever love me, because I’m simply not the type of woman men fall in love with. Plus, I feel ugly and horribly fat. I purged twice today. Honestly, will anyone ever give me a fucking chance??

Everything blows.

It’s incredible how butt-fucking ugly I feel today.

“I woke up like this.” Indeed.

I feel so ugly I don’t even want to go out. I keep looking at myself in the mirror…the acne that doesn’t seem to go the fuck away, the spots from past zits, the scars, the dark circles from not sleeping very well, the unsightly hairs that my genes gave me…

My face just keeps getting worse. I’d never been prey to stress-induced acne, but since I started figuring out my Rank Order List it’s kind of been a problem. Plus, anxiety has me picking at my face almost daily, which is obviously the #1 contributor to having all these spots and zits.

Why does feeling ugly get me down so fast? Because it takes me back to the worst times in my life: my pre-teen to teenage years.

Plus, it doesn’t help I’ve said no to going out with my mom two days in a row. She suggested we go shopping. I said no. Today she said she was going to the movies and asked if I wanted to go. Again, I said no. On both occasions it was just too early in the day for my taste, plus I’ve had terrible mornings these past days. It also just so happens that both the mall and the specific cinema she was going to give me terrible anxiety. I’ve never tried to explain this to her because she never understands my anxiety. She’ll just brush it off, roll her eyes, and say “Oh, please…” then proceed to think that I just don’t want to go out with her (which ins’t true 99% of the times).

But, going back to feeling ugly. I’m isolating because I feel ugly and I’ve got lots of anxiety. I know it. I don’t even want to go out with friends, and if I do, I only want to go out at night because the anxiety is less. Starting to feel it all bringing me down.

I can’t live here anymore. I think of The Ex. He might be anywhere. He might see me. His wife might see me. He’ll think he did nothing wrong to me. Worse, he might actually be proud of himself for “taking away my ‘virginity’ and being the ‘first one'” (he stated this back in the day…I shudder thinking about this). Meanwhile, she’ll think I’m a w***e, maybe even text me for just being in the same place as them.

How does this all make me feel? Ugly. And the acne. The fucking acne.

Makes me think kids in middle and high school were right: I was a “butt-fucking ugly” piece of shit “bitch”. I feel pathetic thinking about those people from the past while in my twenties.

Why was I so weak? Why couldn’t I just brush the bullying off like other people seem to be able to do? Why was I so fucking sensitive?

And The Ex….The fucking Ex….who still has such a strong hold on my life so many years later…I want him gone. Away. I want him to disappear….into a black hole so that every little bit of mass encompassing him becomes nothing…

I want my life back.

 

 

 

I feel shitty. I’ve spent the whole day sort of restricting and….thinking about the Russian.

No, I’m not over him. Yes, I am pathetic.

It’s taking me so ridiculously long to get over this guy. I still can’t believe it. I guess that’s what not having closure does to you.

Earlier today I was thinking about this guy I like and have sort of been talking to (there went my promise to put men on hold…). Suddenly, I found myself thinking about the Russian out of the blue. And I just started crying. (There’s more to the story but I don’t know how personal and graphic I want this post to be.) That resulted in my spiraling down to the low point of facebook stalking him and his girlfriend, then comparing myself to his girlfriend, then arriving at the same dead end I always do: why her and not me?

Gosh I feel ridiculous admitting to these comparisons. I feel ridiculous about being so hung up on an asshole. But I am. It doesn’t help that two nights ago I dreamed he texted me. I don’t remember what he said, but the point is he reached out.

And you know what’s worse? That I wish it were true.

Every time a friend messages me on facebook my phone has a quicker vibrating pattern than normal text messages. And even if I don’t have the phone in my hand, even by just hearing the vibration pattern, I know it’s a facebook message. Every time that happens I have a small heart attack….because I always wish it were him.

Then I go through the panic of thinking What if it really is him?, then I mentally slap myself across the face and think Nah, that’s just your friend X messaging. And then I go back to But what if…..? and then again it’s For crying out loud, it’s been at least 3 months by now, get over it. Finally, when I pick up the phone, the smallest, but still very perceivable amount of frustration rains over me….because it wasn’t him.

To be honest, if he did come back and gave me space to talk to him, my first question would be Why didn’t you say goodbye? Sure, I could ask Why not me?, and I certainly would, but it’s not my job to force other people to like me. More important than that is why he didn’t think I was worth saying goodbye. Why did you just disappear instead of giving me closure?

I try to hate him. I genuinely do. I think of the things that made us incompatible, of the one time he made me feel absolutely tiny, of his dirty apartment that grossed me out, of his tone of voice that sometimes pissed me off, of the day we went shopping for a jacket and I told him he looked “fuckable” in the one he bought and seemed to like but then spent the whole day trying to replace it with another one (after telling me we were going to go boot-shopping for me)….

But then I think of his fucking smile that melted every bad thing away, of the things we did have in common, the uncanny coincidences in life experiences and details, one memorable date we had where we sat under the stars and talked about Interstellar, the stupid little emojis he would randomly text me, how genuinely excited he seemed when we planned my visiting him come the end of October, the time he unexpectedly and very softly kissed my neck while I was talking with my mom on the phone…

Then I think For chrissakes girl, get over it! You met by way of Tinder! He swiped right on your face! Not on your personality!

But then I think of when I asked him if he considered us to be “dating” and he answered “yes”.

And then I think of when I tried to be affectionate with him and he would brush me off.

And then of this one time he took me atop a skyscraper to look down at the city that I adore.

…And then I think of his girlfriend.

She’s ugly, or at least not as pretty as me. She seems like everything I’m not: hailing from a conservative family, an All-American Sweetheart, pretty blue eyes, probably not a freak like myself, wants to get married, dreams about having a big mansion, goes to a reputable med school, a student leader….

The only thing her and I seem to have in common is having studied medicine.

But the truth is, I don’t know her. I’m passing judgement here. I just know him. And he….has made me feel like utter shit. He…made me feel like I’m not even worth a goodbye, much less an apology.

Why, then, can I not forget him?

 

 

I’m fat and I just want to not eat forever. Haven’t been able to fast in so long. I’m pathetic.

Woke up a little while ago. In addition to calling myself fat after body checking my stomach area, I continue to hate myself for not being the Russian’s girlfriend. Why did he pick her and not me? He never gave signs of being a potential ghost. What happened, then?

And why did he fucking contact me?

All the things we talked about, his telling me “I love listening to you ramble”, the jokes, the intimacy, the future plans….all of it down the drain.

His girlfriend seems nice. Smarter, more successful, more driven, and most importantly not a mental screw-up like me.

All I know is, I’d rather focus on the pain of being fat than the pain of the Russian. At least I can do something about fatness.

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