Post-Failure Processing, Part I

I got feedback on an OSCE station (which I failed) with the words 'Was anxious, asked for water, etc.'

At first I was like what??? and then I was sad and then I got angry because how tf is that adequate feedback and now I've eaten 6 mangoes since last night and now it's just funny.

Life is weird like that. You go through the ups and downs and as long as you're present for each peak and trough, you can step back and see the ocean and not the just the undercurrent you thought was personally targeting you. You see the gentle rocking of this dynamic cocoon, and you see how it carries you when you float, and helps you move and supports your weight including your heavy heart and leaden brain.

I hope I'm learning something.

Peace and love,

S.

I want to write again.

I want to write poetry and philosophise and draw breathtaking conclusions from life's simplest facts. I am out of practise, as noted by whoever marked my last reflective journal for med school, but I think I am ready to start becoming more...just more, I guess. Kind of like the muchness that the Mad Hatter talks about in Alice in Wonderland (not sure it it's just in the recent movie or the book as well, it's been so long since I read it).

I want my life to be more.

Peace and love,

S.

Baby Elephants and BAMFs.

I found out that I failed the year I have just repeated. I would have needed a 45 to qualify for re-sits but I managed a 44. Disappointing.

The grief and disappointment comes in waves, a new panic each time. Deep breaths and distractions.

I know that Allah (swt) has a plan, nothing happens without a reason, and I'm trying to accept the truth instead of dwelling on it or getting angry (although there's a certain amount of healthy anger in the grieving process). It's difficult not to be frustrated by what looks like a lack of progress. And also the bizarre lack of avenues for help. It's like the School has put all of it's shields up and armed the muskets in case someone gets close.

I want to be a baby elephant in the muddy planes of somewhere in Africa's heart. I want to flop into the mud and refuse to get up and I want the herd to come and pick me up and then we play in the clean river and and everyone hurrumphs, laughing and joyous.

I am so grateful to everyone who has shown me the smallest kindness. I don't think people realise how much those little things mean. I'm getting a bit teary thinking about all of the sweetest, kindest, most generous people in my life.

I often have moments of aching realisation that I don't really have friends. But not having a best friend doesn't mean that the beautiful souls I have met are any less special, and I know that they will genuinely want to help me and be friends. I think the fact that these generous and open-hearted people are friends with everyone kind of makes me feel like I'm only in their friendship group because they are kind to everyone they come across, but then again, I won't be looking this gift horse in the mouth.

You are what you do often, and if you are around good people who do good things, their goodness will rub off on you and some day or night in the future, you will be just as bright as your favourite star in the sky.
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Okay I had to take a break to cry because someone sent me a nice message and is just so lovely (she was head of division for this first aid thing I volunteered at in G-town). I think that's happened a couple of times this year - crying because someone was nice. I don't know why we don't all do it more often. There is so much good in the world, behind the big blobs of despair. And I maintain that tears are good for your skin. Pretty sure the only reason I didn't have teenage skin issues was because I cried daily.

Skyped with an amazing friend who is the most self-less person I have ever met. This whisper of wishes in my head keeps wanting her to convert to Islam so we can be in Paradise together. She is such an amazing person, with the biggest heart. She deserves everything good.

So really, my life is not so bad. Being a muddy baby elephant with a herd I can call mine would be lovely. But then I wouldn't have met all of these bamfs. Alhamdulillah for every blessing.

Peace and love,

S.