Feeling stressed? Run down? A little bit blue?
Well, that's the deal, isn't it? Part and parcel of life, and if you want to be a doctor, you'll find a way to cope.
This is what I think most of us feel like at regular phases of our time at medical school. Now, I'm not trying to suggest we're special or unique in this - clearly other jobs are also stressful and leave you struggling to cope. It just seems ironic to me that given what we're training to do, we're not so hot on a bit of introspection and admitting that we're not coping. Great at dishing out the advice, not so much listening to it ourselves.
Last year I went to a Medsin conference entitled 'The Good, the Bad and the Mad', and found myself feeling quite choked by a talk given about mental health and medical professionals. Because I felt that they were talking about me.
I'll share a little of a particular year of my training in hopes that you won't make the same mistakes I did. In a nutshell, I was doing too much. Every day was a jogging match between university and my other commitments. Meals were had on public transport, if at all. I lost about a stone in weight. Everyone told me I looked terrible, but I was so panicked I would fail at keeping up that I couldn't get out of the cycle. Tears were shed at the slightest aggravation, and fun activities were approached with a degree of guilt. Were it not for the insanely supportive people I had in my life, well; to be honest, I don't know what I'd have done. It was probably the most frightening phase of my life. And what's awful is, because ultimately I 'survived' (I don't mean to sound dramatic, but it's honestly what it felt like) and the year in broad terms was a successful one, it is easy to think it was all worth it.
Fear of failure is both a powerful motivator and a dangerous weapon. It's ultimately at the heart of why many say medics are particularly terrible at confessing any weakness or difficulty. This is where the problem lies - we have to get away from feeling like we've failed - if anything, we've triumphed in the art of reflection! I'm more alarmed by the idea that doctors hide away from these issues, as if they don't happen. Well, last time I checked, we're humans, not robots.
A few months on, and I'm fine, but it's certainly changed my perspective on things. I sent my gran's Christmas card a whole week early for once. Cooking is now a priority and a joy - (I swear revision doubles your food requirements or something). I've learned to say 'No' (although I can't deny that there's still a little guilt involved). But probably most importantly I've realised that no man is an island. I will forever be grateful to the people that got me through that year. We are each other's support network; let's embrace it, and be thankful for it.
Well, that's the deal, isn't it? Part and parcel of life, and if you want to be a doctor, you'll find a way to cope.
This is what I think most of us feel like at regular phases of our time at medical school. Now, I'm not trying to suggest we're special or unique in this - clearly other jobs are also stressful and leave you struggling to cope. It just seems ironic to me that given what we're training to do, we're not so hot on a bit of introspection and admitting that we're not coping. Great at dishing out the advice, not so much listening to it ourselves.
Last year I went to a Medsin conference entitled 'The Good, the Bad and the Mad', and found myself feeling quite choked by a talk given about mental health and medical professionals. Because I felt that they were talking about me.
I'll share a little of a particular year of my training in hopes that you won't make the same mistakes I did. In a nutshell, I was doing too much. Every day was a jogging match between university and my other commitments. Meals were had on public transport, if at all. I lost about a stone in weight. Everyone told me I looked terrible, but I was so panicked I would fail at keeping up that I couldn't get out of the cycle. Tears were shed at the slightest aggravation, and fun activities were approached with a degree of guilt. Were it not for the insanely supportive people I had in my life, well; to be honest, I don't know what I'd have done. It was probably the most frightening phase of my life. And what's awful is, because ultimately I 'survived' (I don't mean to sound dramatic, but it's honestly what it felt like) and the year in broad terms was a successful one, it is easy to think it was all worth it.
Fear of failure is both a powerful motivator and a dangerous weapon. It's ultimately at the heart of why many say medics are particularly terrible at confessing any weakness or difficulty. This is where the problem lies - we have to get away from feeling like we've failed - if anything, we've triumphed in the art of reflection! I'm more alarmed by the idea that doctors hide away from these issues, as if they don't happen. Well, last time I checked, we're humans, not robots.
A few months on, and I'm fine, but it's certainly changed my perspective on things. I sent my gran's Christmas card a whole week early for once. Cooking is now a priority and a joy - (I swear revision doubles your food requirements or something). I've learned to say 'No' (although I can't deny that there's still a little guilt involved). But probably most importantly I've realised that no man is an island. I will forever be grateful to the people that got me through that year. We are each other's support network; let's embrace it, and be thankful for it.
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