Perking Up

Over that break, especially over Thanksgiving weekend, I felt off within myself. Being good friends with people who have drifted so far from what you are is an odd experience. And it does not help that I feel as if I have drifted some from who I am, or at least that that persona is only loosely fitting, like I have shrunk down a size. Time continues to pass and I continue to be shackled to my clearly paved pursuit of becoming the best human I can be. Friends get married, have children, or decide that they do not believe in either, or whatever else, and I am just attempting to keep the subclinical depression at bay as the vacationless academically saturated future looms. Resident friends emphatically tell me that they are very ready to be done with it, to finally be living life and making money. I too feel ready for this, yet I will not be at that point for several years.

Anyway, as depressed as all of that sounds, I am actually perking up at the idea of some creative pursuits arising. I may be unable to travel, but I can write. And I may be unable to edit much, but I can record videos. It is better to have some footage rather than none, some memory of this rather than a blur of sadness with bursts of pleasantries.

Either Or

My sister's dog was injured tonight. As the medically trained person present, I was asked to assess the dog, and the swollen left shoulder was enough for me to recommend taking it to a vet. It turned out that she (the dog) has a broken shoulder, collapsed lung, and some other life-threatening internal damage that would require surgery.

Unfortunately, one of the veterinarian offices that was googled was the one at which my one-time crush works. What was once a pleasant memory has now become a thing to avoid. She has started to appear in my dreams sometimes. It is always a casual thing. I see her at a bar or something, and I immediately brush over things. After all, it would be dumb to bring up any of the issues in the letters I wrote but never sent when I had become frustrated with her. Speaking of which, those are still in my car in sealed envelopes that I should throw away. Yes, at once point, I must have thought that expressing myself in whole would be a wise idea. There is a reason why I have not dated; I am too intense. Apparently.

I thought of texting her about the dog. But then I would break my childish agreement to not be the one to text her first. I stopped texting her the funny tweets and things of that nature because it truly does take time for me to discover those, and, well, she kind of hurt me, however unintentionally. The problem is that I never got the chance to know her well enough to assume the absolute best in her, so her accidental cruelty cannot be excused quite so casually as can, say, the dear friend who (technically) sexually assaulted me.

I am currently filled with whiskey and I can say with some surety that I would not want to fully feel the potential feelings that may be present now. As much as I was taught to abhor it, and as much harm as it does to the body on so many levels, alcohol helps me to tolerate being alive. I hope to replace it with people, which is a major reason why I wish to move back to Arkansas, where dear friends reside.

I wrote a poem today about the devasation wreaked when someone like me likes a girl. It. Is. Dumb. The highs were high but th elows that follow are so, so very low. And the worst part is probably that I consider her to be such a worse person.Every human should be overestimated in the highest regard, yet here I am disliking an intelligent and beautiful woman simply because we flirted with the idea of being together.

Anyway, I hope that these issues resolve somehow. Or that I just die soon. Either,  or, I guess.

Squiggly Line

Awhile ago, a friend who is still in his first few years of marriage told me something that I had not considered before. He said that being married does not stop you from feeling lonely. I had never considered the possibility of a life without the loneliness, but that is partially because I have not considered a long-term romantic relationship to be a realistic possibility in the near future. But the time is likely to come, at some point, when I will let myself think in those terms. And with the wisdom of my friend in mind, I need to keep expectations relatively low, realizing that those last feelings that crawl into my mind late at night, those ones that remind me of how vastly bereft I am of companionship in this world, those feelings will remain no matter what changes I undergo in life.

There were many times in the past when I was so close to God that those thoughts did not besiege me, but that was also before the mid-20's subclinical depression set in. It was when I knew considerably less about life and faith and the nature of things. It was when I leaned heavily into my creative side rather than my scientific side. When the creative side dominated, I kept myself in a careful balance. As soon as I had any sort of personal or spiritual issue, I would take care of it. My friends would tell me of their struggles, and I could never relate, because when I found a problem, I generally solved it within myself by the end of the day.

Unlike in the past, however, I retain problems. I sometimes recognize weaknesses and allow them to coexist with my strengths, rather than eradicating those faults. This began partly as an attempt to relate to every human, but also as a result of becoming a better academic. The mental shift to deal with emotional or spiritual difficulties rather than focusing on the present work to be done frequently felt too great to properly address while still maintaining discipline with my studies. In a similar vein, the further I have progressed into medicine, the more I have treated my spiritual or emotional difficulties as illnesses to be dealt with quickly and efficiently so that they do not distract me overmuch.

Thus do I have this struggle. The best, happiest, most fulfilled version of me is the missionary. But that version of me requires maintenance that I have not consistently been willing to manage. And frankly, I do not know if I can go back to my previous management techniques while still being as proficient an academic as I am (and let us recall that I am not exactly an exemplary student as it is). I feel both sides of me beckoning with their own allures, and I feel as if I need them both to some degree, but to do both would require walking this squiggly line that I do not feel capable of ambulating, not without something giving way.

A Well-Adjusted Person

So I have both this week and next week (Thanksgiving week) off from my clinical rotations. This means that I can let myself think and write and listen to music. What an oddity.

I finally tweeted (with my alternate account) about the (technically) sexual assault. It came about as I was finding myself quite sober last night as I read through past Juice Journals. It is sad to reflect on the changes in friends and myself. My faith was previously my whole thing, and though God still remains the drive behind everything, I have spent so much more time outside of the church since then that it often feels more like an implied thing. The fortunate thing for me, the continuous pull toward that faith, is that I know that the most fulfilled version of myself is the one I find on mission trips.

Though that perspective feels selfish at times, well, it seems like a pretty tame selfishness to possess. When I told a close friend from high school about the sexual assault trauma and processing the other day, he commented that I seem like "a really well-adjusted person". And honestly, any truth to that statement likely comes from this forward perspective of mine, this knowledge that the life around me is a temporary thing, that I am training for something greater. And I do not mean that in a boastful way, just in the sense that I need to be strong and wise and emotionally baggage-free and spiritually sound enough to keep it together when the unpredictable happens and I am the only one with the training to make the difference.

That perspective has kept me from casual dating. How could I go out with someone if I was unsure whether they could handle the life I hope to live? Even if they can handle the baggage-free spiritual side and the talents involved in outgoing missionary work, I also have the other social side, which involves drinking and being comfortable with people who partake in various recreational drugs, or are part of the LGBTQ community, or belong to another religion such as Islam. It is hard to find someone else who is as versatile as that while still holding onto their faith. It is a constant difficulty to walk this line of belief and acceptance of everyone, in part because you face the decision of whether to challenge your own beliefs in order to incorporate theirs, or to have in the back of your mind the sad conclusion that they may not join you when you go to heaven. And at that point, you stray dangerously close to the point of judging. And since "judge not" was a command, that ironically means that you are sinning, even if your original line of thinking was intended to keep yourself properly aligned in order to avoid such a thing.

So that is the mindset that keeps me from a the multitude of these life experiences into which so many others seem intent on blindly leaping. I am aware that I miss out on a lot, but I also retain all of my friends and my generally optimistic view of people around me. When you have an ex, your opinion of them declines greatly, even if you thought the world of them up until the end. You weigh their words differently than you would the words of a close friend, and if the words seem wrong or hurtful, you allow them to have a far more personal impact because you have gifted that person with the privilege of knowing you more intimately.

In the slightly more professional realm of topics, I keep meaning to write about patient encounters and interactions with staff and physicians, but the inspiration just tends to sap out of you at the end of the day.