Done...I like clichés

Well Readers...It's official. I have finished my first year of medical school. I passed all my classes, despite my endless agonizing and palpable anxiety about grades. It was by no means the best year I have ever had, nor anywhere close to my worst. However, readers, if you think this means my year was mediocre, you are sorely mistaken. This past school year has been...unlike anything school year I've ever experienced in my life. It's been filled with a lot of firsts, a lot of mistakes, a couple lasts. I've learned a great deal- not just things about medicine, but things about myself, and about humanity. I have no regrets, not even about the bad parts.

Of all the things I learned this year, I think the most important lesson is just how precious every single life is. We're all taught from an early age that "all men are created equal" and "respect others." However, I don't think I really grasped the truth and untruths of these statements until this past year. Perhaps this is a result of constantly learning about dysfunctions of the human body, but I've now come to really appreciate the frailty that is human life- how delicate the balance is that allows us to breathe, our hearts to beat in rhythm. We're constantly surrounded by danger- from microbes, from within ourselves, from the things we choose to surround ourselves with. Our ability to exist and live is a carefully timed orchestra of events that needs to happen exactly so. And yet, the way all the pieces come together is at best crude and simplistic. For example, one of the basic principles of how the human body works is diffusion. The movement of molecules from one container to another to even out their concentration between the two. However, molecules are not living organisms; they have no consciousness; there is no driving force, nor guiding hand that tells the oxygen molecules to move from our blood into our muscles. It's all random. I still have trouble wrapping my mind around it sometimes. The random movement of certain molecules, under the right conditions allows life, allows everything- from the very first single celled organism all the way up to human beings who have engineered rockets that have gone to the moon.

Perhaps the most depressing class of my first year of medical school was embryology. As much as it was a detailed account of how a life begins, it was also a stark reminder of how precise the orchestra that is life needs to be. In the first 3 to 8 weeks of gestation, the embryo relies on certain molecules called teratogens that tell the embryo's cells to grow into a heart or a leg, and help organise the cells so that one end of a limb nub turns into a thumb, while the other into a pinky. Too little, too much, or the wrong kind of teratogens leads to dire consequences. I still can't forget the picture our professor showed us of anencephaly- a condition in which the cranial vault (later the skull) fails to close. These unfortunate attempts at life look like something a depraved cartoonist might have dreamed up for an upcoming sci-fi/horror film.

All that being said, the second important lesson I learned is that humans, and life, are quite resilient- and this perhaps is a good reason to value it even more. Most people we see don't look like disfigured examples of science experiments gone wrong. The people on Earth are here because they won the lottery. They passed all the challenges and obstacles that mother nature set up for itself to prevent life from prevailing. Everyone around you- no matter how ungrateful or annoying they may seem- deserves to be here, and deserves to be alive.

I used to think myself an easy-going person, but I think I might have been lying to myself back then. I still had a lot of prejudices, and a lot of ideas about how a "normal" person should be. I was still quick to dismiss the person who never attended college; impatient with the person who could not calculate the product of 3 and 16 in under 2 seconds. I've learned this year, that there is no such thing as a "normal" person, and there is no gold standard that each of us needs to live up to (no matter how much society attempts to tell us so). Yes, we are all human: we exhibit similar patterns of behavior; we all conform to standards that society dictates to be virtuous and admirable. Yet each life, and each person remains unique. Each person's experience of this time on earth- their choices cannot be replicated. Even clones of much loved pet do not necessarily behave the same as their original. People should not be dismissed. I realize this is a nigh impossible goal. It is in our natures to want to compete with those around us- to wish to subjugate others (whether for our own glory or for others' own good). However, knowing what I know now- after this first year of medical school- I firmly believe that every person has a story. You can find something admirable about every man, woman, and child- and considering the obstacles every body must go through just to survive, and the extra mile it goes to thrive: everyone deserves respect and a chance to be heard.

the end of my rope (from 19/2/11)

so far this semester i have counted 2 weeks which have been uneventful, and let me make it clear, those were the only two weeks i've enjoyed so far. i don't mean to sound like a drama queen, and i don't want to come across as the sort who indulges in self-pity, but i feel like my world is crumbling, and i really don't know what to do anymore. Quite honestly, I believe the thing that is upsetting me the most is the fact that I am personally responsible for 98% of all the misfortune that has befallen me. Now, I would never admit this to anyone in person. However, since I can't see any of you, readers, I feel much more comfortable basking in my short-comings.

failure

so i've just gotten back all my midterm scores, and i failed two exams. this is bad. and i only have myself to blame. i have never failed an exam before in my life...yes that's me bragging...and yes, this is possibly the largest blow to my ego i've ever experienced. as a person, i'm generally not very egotistic. self-involved...yes- but that's not quite the same. people are comforting me saying, "well, every one fails at some point. this is just your time. you'll work through it. no worries."
i'm not a defeatist. i don't think my life is over, but i'll admit, i'm shaken to the core and i am worried. it used to be that i was nearly invincible. i was smart. i could go into most exams without studying, and still wouldn't fail. of course...i could sit here and carefully dissect the past 2 months of my life. why did i fail? was there some one or something other than myself to blame? i could do that. but i'm not going to. there is no one on to blame but myself, and the only thing that can make any of this better is to look to the future. i don't need to nit-pick at the past two months to know what i have been doing wrong. i know what i did wrong, and i know exactly how to change it: no more boys, no more parties, no more television, no more gchatting with friends. there wasn't one single event that led to my demise-- i feel like this has been building up for years. i have been chipping away at my consummate student image, taking it apart piece by piece... like a game...seeing how much i could take out before it crumbled.
but no more. i publicly and solemnly swear i am getting back on track. i am not good at balance. i am not good at keeping up with school when problems from the real world pollute my life. this is not an excuse. this is a fact. so from now on...i will always always choose school.
i don't care if this makes me a 36 year old woman who suddenly wakes up one day and realizes she wants a child, but hasn't even had a relationship that lasted more than six months. medical school is my life. i love being here, and i have never been happier in my life. i could lose all of my friends, but if i still had medical school i would be fine. i thought i could survive not giving it 100% of my attention, but i now find this is not the case. medical school and medicine is my world, my fiber, my every dream and desire.
of course, i would love to have a significant other who loves me; of course, i want to be popular and have a lot of friends. i am not a robot. i want to feel loved. but from now on, i need to keep in mind that it doesn't matter if other people love me, if i don't love me- and i won't love me again until i start doing better and feeling safer about my place in medical school.

My very first broken heart...

I'm not sure if this is what I had in mind, when I claimed that I wanted every day of my life to be worth remembering...but I've got to say that this past week has been extraordinary. In the span of just a few days, things with the "the boy" escalated to blissful new heights, and were plunged into nothingness.

As the title of this post indicates, these are my reflections after my very first broken heart. Perhaps because it came so late in life (I'm currently 22), I feel I'm dealing with it rather well. I spent two days wanting to lock myself in my room and cry, and now I'm just touched with a hint of sadness when I think about it...oh and of course I'm a bit abash, thinking about some of the things that happened between us. I am not going to go into the gory details of my misadventures in the land of love. If that is what you're looking for, reader, I'm positive you can find similar tales in the next blog over or romance novels. No. I'm going to focus on how this all has changed my life. Changed me, even. Having had my heart broken for the very first time, I really need to reconsider who I am. I, being like most people my age, felt like I already knew a lot of things (ok...everything) going into this relationship. I did not think a lot about how it might end, but I had assumed it would end much the same way my other ones had ended: me being and idiot, making a fool of myself, and shrugging the whole thing off- realizing that I had ruined any chances I had at a normal relationship. Basically, I never expected that I would learn anything from the relationship. I never expected the boy had more to offer me than the flirting and Jedi mind-games I'd experienced before. I'm glad I was wrong though. I feel like I've unlocked a whole new stratum of emotional depth that I had no idea existed before. It's horribly cliche to say so, but songs, television, etc mean a lot more now that I feel like I finally understand what it means to "love" someone. No one, ever before in my life, has had the power to plunge me into complete misery, take over my whole consciousness, nor blindside me like this boy has. When I was with him, and things were going well...well it's hard to describe. It wasn't the delirious, giddy happiness one experiences with a crush. The best way I can describe it is as a hopeful satisfaction-- just knowing you got someone else on your team, who is at the same time supporting you, but also looking out for you should you stray too far off the beaten path. And then when it was over...well I'd never experienced pain like that before in my life either. As I mentioned in my previous posts, I've been depressed. This was nothing like that. When I was depressed I was forlorn and unmotivated. After he left, I was miserable. My heart was constantly racing. All I wanted to do was recall our every moment together over and over and over again in my head. Better put, when I was depressed, I was "quiet sad;" after he left me, I was "crazy sad." Nothing else in the world particularly seemed to matter anymore. I didn't care about school, sleep, my appearance. Unlike usual when things are bothering me, I made no attempt to hide that I was upset. I moved through life as if in a trance. People spoke to me, but I didn't hear them. I longed to be home when I could just melodramatically sit in front of my computer, drink beer and spend hour after countless hour talking about it to my friends. If I don't say so myself, I executed it with as much flair and charisma as any Sarah Jessica Parker or Cameron Diaz. At the same time that I was miserable, I was aware there was a certain comedy to the whole "broken heart" thing. Everyone has gone through it-- it's a rite of growing up. So I allowed myself to be weepy and silly and girly, but then I put a lid on it. I am an independent, intelligent young woman- and may someone shoot me the day I rely one someone else for happiness and self-worth. After being in love, you feel like you'll never been happy again until you have someone who can make you feel as your significant other did. This isn't true. You are you own person, and you don't need ANYONE, not a boyfriend, a wife, a mother or a friend to tell you how awesome you are.

So.....I will be spending this Valentine's Day alone, but not lonely. When I look at the boy, I still miss us horribly, but I'm well on my way to getting over it. This whole experience has made me stronger, and a better, functioning member of society. I, who have always thought of myself as socially awkward, now am not afraid to approach other boys and express interest. I'm now emotionally more adult that I ever was before, and for that I am thankful. This opens up a great many new doors in my life, and I will go forward bravely, where every person before me has gone. But no longer will I be afraid and shy, because I have dug this deep into my emotional fibre, and I am ready to dig deeper, and I am ready to once again, search for love.

On being a Chinese daughter...

For those of you who haven't read this, please do:
Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior

After reading this article, I invite you to share my indignation at author Amy Chua. Chua has grossly misportrayed Chinese mothers as arrogant, self-entitled, narcissistic monsters, which I know from experience is not the case. Chua chooses to dwell on the fact that, in Chinese culture, children are supposed to honor the people who gave them life with respect, obedience, and good life outcomes. While this is true, I challenge readers to find more than a handful of parents who want their children to do well, simply because the child's accomplishments will reflect positively on them. However, as an insider, I can tell you this: Chinese parents push their children hard because they know it will help their children after leaving the nest. Chinese parents want to instill in their children a solid sense of work ethic, and give their children a rich background of accomplishments. These two key qualities guarantee that Chinese children will complete their education, and enter the "grown up" world with enough knowledge and experience to survive comfortably. I am not saying that Chinese mothers like Chua do not exist, but I firmly believe that Chua is completely incorrect in offering herself up as a paradigm of Chinese parenting. Having been around parents like Chua before, I know that-in most cases- the children fear and resent their parents' heavy-handed ways, and rarely go on to adapt the same parenting style they grew up with. The ideal Chinese parents push their children hard, and may seem strict and callous; however, they do the things they do out of love (not out of desire for self-advancement).

on finding love...

 I was stopped by a man at the movie theatre the other day. He told me I was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen in his life, and that he wouldn't have been able to live with himself if he hadn't spoken with me. That was rather nice. I must admit my first inclination was that he was mocking me, but he seemed to be rather genuine. Those ephemeral moments are nice. When you see someone you like, and you say, "that person seems like someone I could spend my life with," and the next moment the person is gone, and you cannot be entirely sure how much of that person was real or how much of them was your own projection of what you are longing for. For me, it lends a little magic to the idea that one needs to find love in life. I don't mean to say that I believe the life that awaits me is one devoid of love, but I believe that what I am searching for, is not the love found in all those romantic comedies that people never seem to get tired of. Where love drives our protagonists to extraordinary measures in order to find and win the heart of that special someone that they are looking for. Everyone loves a happy ending, but most of those movies end when the two protagonists find one another. That is not what I am longing for, and I don't want anyone to do that for me. What I want is to find someone I can depend on eternally. Someone I can work with as an equal in all aspects of life, and who will think as highly of me as I do of him. I don't need heart-pounding, drive-you-silly romance. In fact, I rather deplore it. I know from experience it leads me to do things that I am not proud of, and it makes me feel horrible. I can only imagine it's not a day in the park for the other party as well, so if two hearts can be spared, I think that's a good thing. I believe what I am looking for is, in fact, much harder to find than what is showcased on television screens and in movie theatres. I think back on my life, so far, and I've never found a single person remotely close to filling these mighty shoes I've sown. Friends, parents, they all fall short. I am aware that what I ask for is quite possibly unattainable, so I keep this possibility in the back of my head. I think, if all else fails, I will be quite satisfied living alone for all my years. I admit, I will get rather lonely at times, and I will probably envy those that do have find significant others.

I've never been the outgoing type, and I know part of what inhibits me is myself. So, this is me being depressed I suppose. I just...need a pick me up.

the calm before the storm...

I came back to Chicago early because I thought it would be an escape. But I find I'm sorely disappointed. The wheels of my mind are puttering away aimlessly, trying to find the solutions to problems that cannot be answered. Of course, there's the ever-present, ever-annoying looming little thundercloud called, "the boy," but even he is not the heart of my problems. I want to know how things are going to work out for me. I want to know now. Will I become a doctor? Will I make it as a neurologist? When will I finish paying off my school loans? How will I do next semester? Who invented the fountain? How did they work before electricity was harnessed? Where will I live after I have a career? Will I get along with my coworkers? Will I be an ass? Who will I marry? Will I marry? Do I want to marry? Is that something I need to be happy? And kids? What about them? How will I treat my parents after I have a family of my own? See?? Useless, time-wasting questions. I've managed to wile away an entire week on these. A week that should have been filled with blissful nonchalance, or at least getting a head start on homework. But no, I sit here and waste hour after precious hour on questions that I know are best not asked because they cannot be answered. And the fact that I don't know these answered, has drawn me into a state of melancholy that I do not care for, but seem quite incapable of breaking free from. My life, it seems is filled with cages. When I am in school, though I enjoy myself quite a lot, I long for the freedom to do the things I want to do; however, apparently, when school is over, I am equally trapped within my own mind. Today is the first day of a new year, and I desperately hope I can finally wipe my hands clean of the post-graduation depression that dragged me to places darker than I care to describe for 4 months after I graduated from university, and has haunted me ever since. I am rather afraid of falling back into that depression whenever something seems hard or difficult. Thus, this melancholic state I find myself rather irks me- not simply because I am in a bad mood, but because it reminds me of much darker times in my life. I wish I had someone to talk to, but I am unsure what I would talk with this someone about. I'm just...sad, and it's not just because of the uncertainty of what lies before me. Was it because I was expecting my winter vacation to somehow be more spectacular and glamorous than it in fact was? Was it because I wanted more from myself during this vacation, and have failed to meet my own standards? Yes and Yes and Yes, I think. But there's more. There's something else causing me to frown and pout at the screen as I write this. And then I think of my grandparents and my parents, and how they all must have gone through the same things I am going through now, and it leaves me in a state of awe. How ever did they find that special something that helped them defeat their demons, and live happily to 58? 84? 90? I can't imagine having to live that long. It seems like such a vast empty expanse of time to cover. What keeps them going? 

I received some rather bad news today about a close relative of mine. I'm not giving you any more details because I don't think she would appreciate it, assuming she recovers. I'm rather disappointed, also, that I am not more upset about receiving the news, and furthermore upset with myself for thinking only of myself when I ought to be thinking of my relative. I hope she gets better. I do.