now that i’m a 4th year i feel a bit out of the loop. i hesitate to say i’m “useless” but i do have the feeling of being discarded. the 3rd years are feeling their oats, informing the 2nd years in world-weary voices about all that is necessary and the 2nd years are looking perplexed and a bit afraid. the first years – i don’t even know who they are. *sad chuckle*
as with every other transition in my life i am reminiscing. thinking about old colleagues who are no longer in the program. wondering what i’m supposed to do next year. recognizing i still have much to learn about psychiatry. hoping i haven’t become redundant.
every year the 4th years have been the same. ghost.
no one every sees them. we know they exist but they don’t form the fabric of residency. they don’t even hang out at hem’s edge. they are fantastic creatures, floating in the space between us and the unknown of BEEYOOOOOND TRAINING [insert booming voice here].
and then like chimney smoke they dissipate into nothingness. we remember them only with as much fondness as it marks our own transitions from PGY-I to PGY-2 to PGY-3.
it is the same every year. role transitions. role grief. some years are more significant than others. i’ve waited long to get to this point and now that i’m here, i’m looking around me with no known road map.
since middle school the story has repeated. do well. get great grades. be extra-curricular. develop your persona. use your skill-sets. struggle through more skill-sets. transition to the next year. start over. graduate high school. find great college. move to college. deal with the drama (and oh so much of it). do well. get great grades. be extra-curricular….graduate college. find great medical school….graduate med school, find great residency, suffer through abuse, become angry, then bitter, then cynical then apathetic…
find a job
WHAT? and how exactly does one go about doing THAT? i’ve spent more years and developed more little grey cells than most people know exist in order! in order to become this pinnacle of intellectual and dare i say altruistic excellence, always following road maps, to find that now, now; after all the madness, i must strike out on my own.
who does that? who strikes out on their own after DECADES of road maps? apparently we do.
am i whining here? yup, a little bit. am i seeking sympathy? yup, a little bit. am i kind of freaked out? yup, a little bit. hence the need to process some of my thoughts on this here pixilated medium.
take a step back and look at the routine of your existence and how irked you are when Steve doesn’t make coffee in the morning or Kareena doesn’t bring an extra jell-o pudding for you during your mid-morning smoke break and magnify that by 2 trillion! sufficiently distressed now? good!
sigh. am i really that distressed? no, i’m not. i’m pouring out thoughts into the black space of the interverse with some vague understanding that in my pouring out will come tranquility. i think better when i talk it out, talk it out.
that’s part of my routine. my ongoing need to analyze.