And Aubrey resurfaces

I miss this blog. I miss writing. I miss sharing my thoughts and experiences to the world as if they really matter.

It will almost be a year since my last post. And from that seemingly inane entry last July, a lot of personally significant things have transpired in the interim:

I am now with someone.

I am now a medical clerk.

I am now a hard core vegan.

And in an effort to keep things in bite size pieces, just so I don't end up feeling too guilty and apologizing every time for not being able to update in decent intervals, I would reserve these topics for future posts. I would just like to thank every one who has visited, read, followed, commented, and continuously checked out this blog despite the long lag. Thank you. My heart feels cardiomegalic full. Thank you.

Stress-induced creativity secondary to Med school

Sing to the tune of Magtanim ay di biro...Bow

Ang mag med ay di biro
Maghapong nakaupo
Di naman makatayo
Di naman makatakbo

Utak ko'y namamanhid
Leeg ko'y nangangawit
Puso ko'y pumipintig
Long quiz ko'y papalapit!

O bat kay dami naman
Ng aking ipapasa
Paperwork at reporting
At may babasahin pa

Sa umagang pagising
Lahat ay iisipin
Naka-tulog kasi
Panic mode ang kapalit

Mag med na, Mag med na
Buhay ay sasaya!
Mag med na, Mag med na
Eto ay super ligaya!


(Because I have plenty of time in my hands :)

On med students and depression

I chanced upon an interesting article published by Time back in 2010 about med students and depression. It discusses a study published in the Journal of the American Medical Association about how depressed med students are more likely to fear less respect from colleagues if they are diagnosed with depression. The most probable culprit? The perfectionist cut-throat environment fostered by med schools.

Click below for the article.

http://healthland.time.com/2010/09/14/why-depressed-medical-students-stigmatize-depression/

I am not sure if my stoic fits after exams would fit the DSM-IV-TR diagnostic criteria for depression. What I do understand is the dejecting feeling of wanting to be adequate and yet completely falling off target. Med school has a way of just stripping you of whatever healthy ego you have. Most of us study and yet feel as if we understood very little. Even the sheer volume of our books is depressing by itself. Somehow though, I believe  there is no other way to become a great doctor but to go through the hard work, even if part of it means staving off our egos, and being constantly reminded of our weaknesses. Feeling let down is a part of the process, and it is often in these points that we emerge better equipped than our former selves. What I cannot subscribe to is striving for perfection for the sake of perfection, where the real and substantial purpose of becoming a doctor gets blurred in the background of esoteric knowledge, memorizing for pointless exam questions that defocuses on important learning, resorting to cheating for grades, and being reduced to 'technicians' rather than 'physicians'. I am obviously digressing here, but my point is, sometimes wrong motivations can push us to unnecessary depression and that changing our perspective and clarifying our values can be helpful in understanding our feelings about ourselves. There is nothing wrong about feeling depressed, especially in med school, but we could always use a better frame of mind about it.

Aubreythinksthat...

By now I should be changing my description from 'writer' to former writer or perhaps has-been writer. I have not written something decent in ages, just a hodge podge of passing thoughts, insubstantial randomness, rants, and an abysmal slew of nothingness. Just as you cannot call a daydreamer an 'artist', one cannot be called a writer without having written anything. The distinction between 'writer' and 'blogger' is an even more complex, if not discriminating topic. I have stagnated. And in that stagnation, I'm afraid I may have missed a lot of opportunities, not just to write, or to share, but to understand my thinking process, to see how I may or may not have progressed, how my values have evolved, how my perspectives have changed, to make sense of my life in a way that the compendium of my present self would not allow.

I believe that among the many art forms, writing has to be the most accessible; because words themselves were created out of the necessity to communicate. But somehow, I feel like I have made that an excuse to justify why not writing is better than being misunderstood, or worst, not understood at all. Was it plain hubris at work? Am I speaking to the wrong audience? Is it sloth masquerading as esotericism? Or am I just a bad writer? The most ironic comment I have ever received is being told that I was a good writer, because they did not understand a thing of what I said.

The freedom to write does not guarantee coming through with your message. As for me, I have not clarified whether I am writing for myself, for an audience, for posterity, or for art's sake. All I know is I want to feel less alone. I want to feel that life is a shared experience. I want to be understood. I do not desire to alienate, but I would not want to compromise either. The coming posts would be more or less like this, I hope not in the same breadth of vagueness, but more of wild-ruminating types. Welcome to aubreythinksthat!