Dreaming

There is a sur-realness to my time here in Oxford. I walk the same old roads and quite a few new ones and I am struck by the old problem of contextualizing it all. Too long to be a holiday, too short to live in this moment, and I'm caught between a desire to plan and a desire to let things go. I find myself wishing that I had a job, a place I need to be, or a thing I need to do. I don't think my situation is in any way unique to recent college grads or anyone in a transition period of their life. So I guess that's all I really have to say, I'm stuck dreaming trying to decide if I'm going to have a nightmare or a daydream and that anxiety is my only issue.

This last week has been a mix of heavy exercise and indulgence. I started the week by going to fitness on Monday night. It was wonderful to relive the Monday night fitness experience and I felt pretty good about it though I combined it with a bike ride from Headington and back. It was nice seeing the friendly faces adding to the surreal feeling.

I can tell that I've settled in a bit more at The Coven as it is so lovingly named. I made quiche earlier in the week and made plans to make all of the other things that I promised. This includes biscuits and white gravy, a breakfast food that seems to baffle my UK friends.

Sara has made her way to Oxford as well and it was a miraculous feeling having the Archery Novice squad (sans a few members) back together again. I also got to spend the day listening to the wonderful concert choir of William Jewell perform. Watching them always gives me chills and I was so proud of Sara and her solos. Still watching the choir has always filled me with a twinge of regret. One of my few goals freshman year at William Jewell was to make the concert choir. I took voice lessons and did as much as I could given my already hefty course load I was taking (but maybe even that is an excuse, I believed that I was good enough), but my year in Oxford without any musical practice, no choirs or lessons, and my emotional state during the start of last year my audition, particularly the sight reading part, was worse than any year prior. While I'm grateful that I didn't have to tour for the last few weeks and could spend that time here in Oxford, I miss the feeling of being a part of a chorus, of adding my voice to a part and that crunchy feeling of singing harmony with another. It was a reminder that I failed in some regard to reach all of my goals and with so much uncertainty over the next few months, I couldn't help but feel that failing more acutely. I'm glad I went and got to see a few of my Jewell friends one last time, I also met up with some people who I will be seeing in a few weeks, and finally made plans with Sara and others which I will be going to tonight. As always, the people make everything worth while.

I spent most of the week lazing about with a few adventures. It's been awhile since I've been able to indulge in video games, movies, and have eaten quite so much bacon. To match though, I've been trying to keep up with my exercise. Jenny, one of the members of the Coven, occasionally joins me on my jogs and had been an off and on work out buddy. Today we went on a longer adventure than I had anticipated but it reminded me about one of the things I love about Oxford. Within ten minutes of jogging, I left city scape to country side. Thirty minutes later I was atop a hill with a beautiful view of the countryside. After an hour, I'm in a neighbouring town all together. If I go fifteen minutes in the other direction, I'm in the middle of city centre. Accessibility to such a variety of environments encourages me to travel. I enjoy exercising here and I'm a little surprised I had the 6.3 mile journey in me, but I always find my endurance increases when I'm on a new journey taking a new path.

Two of the remaining applications I put out for jobs here in the UK closed this week and I hope to hear about interviews soon. Wish me luck. If anything else, my boyfriend starts his three week holiday today as well. As always, I hope that I find more and answers and new questions before next time. Until then, Adventures Await.

~KH

Living with Uncertainty and Finding Happiness

May 18th marked my departure from the US for a second time to return to the UK, in particular the Oxford/Headington area. I left not but two days after graduation, four days after my birthday and a week after my final comprehensive exam that dictated 21 credit hours of my undergraduate education. To express the level of change and unrest that accompanied so much journeying is difficult. It is safe to say that I am in a transition period of sorts in my life and the uncertainty of my future is fairly significant. I haven't posted in awhile, but I can summarize quickly before talking about the meat of why I am posting again.

My last semester has been a busy one. Preparing for my comprehensive exam and my final thesis on Fibromyalgia sucked up most of my time. Over spring break, I was lucky enough to be gifted a car from my grandparents and as a result, I was able to shoot regularly at a wonderful archery range not but 20-25 minutes from campus. Emotionally, I was fairly apathetic looking forward almost entirely for my trip to the UK. I didn't feel any excitement for graduation or my birthday, but I didn't feel dread either. I just didn't feel much of anything. My comprehensive exam consisted of my 80 page thesis, an hour presentation on my research and then a 1 and 1/2 hour oral exam over anything given to me by my faculty panel. The culmination of these three things would be used to grade the incomplete credits on all my previous tutorials as well as my synthesis tutorial. I've never been more stressed or studied so hard for an exam in my life. My sleep was terrible and I lacked energy for most things. This is also about the time that my exercise routine fell off as I became ill and also just suffered from workout fatigue from doing the same or similar workouts for too long.

Now the uncertainty that I mentioned earlier. As many of you knew, I had an interview for Indiana University School of Medicine in February and I was slated to hear back on the 15th of some month following. I was part of the last interview group and so it was unlikely that I would hear back until May 15th or at latest June 1. That didn't happen though. Near the end of April, I received an email stating that I was on the alternates list for medical school with 99 others. Should they have an opening, the list would be reviewed and while it varied from year to year about half would receive offers at any point until as late as August 10th. I was devastated more because of the uncertainty of the matter. How could I plan for that. I was also extremely frustrated. I didn't understand how after having a decent MCAT score and so much going for me, why I'd only faced rejection and now feeling stuck about the next year.

Another common theme in my last year was how stagnate my life felt. Towards the end of my time in Oxford, I had come into my own, been able to feel like an agent in my life and my choices. I'd fallen in loves in more way than one and I'd been ripped back to a life that felt meaningless. Getting my degree was a series of checked boxes. There was a routine about it all. While I had initially found the uncertainty that hearing back from medical school provided, I was also struck by the liberating freedom of it. Suddenly I had choices and after a year of trying to create a life my own in Kansas City and to some extent Indiana, I was excited at the prospect of potentially returning to a place that could be my own again. So my life has been about contingencies but also possibilities.

So I feel torn, stuck between possibilities and having to face the reality that nothing is guaranteed and I could crash and burn. I've failed to some degree that expectations that I had for myself and were given to me by my parents and society. Despite my best efforts, I have had to jump ship of the path expected of me and I hope that I will be happier for it, but there is a part of me that still responds to the failure part. So, while I sit in uncertainty, I enter on a holiday with people I love and have, thus far, found happiness in it.

My journey to the UK was a very long one. I left Indianapolis at 3pm and arrived in London Gatwick after two plane changes at noon the next day. My boyfriend and housemate greeted me at the airport dressed as security complete with suits and a sign for my character in the roleplaying society game. I couldn't stop grinning, though that meant I had to play along. Took everything to prevent myself from tackling them. That evening, I played in the society game and I was reminded how much I missed sessions and talking to people. By the end though, I was so shattered and turned in after eating for the first time since my flight that morning.

The following days have been a mix of returning to familiar areas of Oxford and seeing all those people I missed. Jetlag hit me a lot harder this time round and I think that was because I was already a bit sleep deprived and still recovering from such a stressful time. I'm staying in Headington which is a 20-30 minute bike ride from Oxford and I have been cycling a lot more than I've ever done in Oxford and for awhile. I managed to go to an archery session but have been unable to shoot. I also went for a run in the beautiful weather, though I can't seem to plan appropriately for the weather in my clothing choice. I'm hoping to settle into more of a routine soon.

I'm often struck by how normal living here feels. Not normal as in mundane, but as in natural and comfortable and easy. The only problem I feel is the itch to do something productive. When I try to reassure myself that I'm on holiday, I can't help but think, on holiday from what? After all, nothing is guaranteed past this month. One of the things that I have done in response to my uncertainty is apply for a number of jobs in the UK. The problem is that as a non-native that does not have a work visa at the moment and would need a company to sponsor immigration, I know that my chances are slim, but that's not stopping me from trying. I can feel myself afraid to commit to my life hear due to this uncertainty even though its something I want very much and I think that has left me paralysed, I don't want to go through missing it again. I'm happy but scared. But, what new graduate hasn't felt that way.

I look forward to my coming weeks and hope to have more answers and new questions soon. Until then, I'll sit here watching Eurovision (if you don't know what it is, look it up) and looking forward to the adventures before me.

KH

Peculiar Loneliness

Its been a long time. I know. I have found that this blog which holds the records of an amazing experience and journey served another purpose that I have not had need of for awhile. Sometimes, an idea gets ringing around in my head. It is an idea or concept that I feel has no proper forum. It is often too complex or concerning for a status update and too concrete for poetry or creative writing. They have often been bouncing around in my head for a few days and in particular, they make it difficult to think about other things. It is as though they beg to be put to words. In this way, I can release them and move on with my life.

The last few months have been a roller-coaster and as my final semester of my senior year had come upon me, I was concerned that I had made no progress in my emotional and physical stability since I returned from England. I was cutting free of my own distractions, and they were distractions that I ultimately saw as hindering my progress to moving on to the next phase of my life. I was also struck with the shaken realization that my own confidence about my future was hubris and that to some degree I need to accept uncertainty and plan for more contingencies. I do have an interview for Medical School in February and I am optimistic but cautious. So faced with the same feelings of listlessness that followed me last July, I was worried about my ability to adjust. I could feel myself still rigidly clinging to another life. I haven't necessarily solved that problem.

Fortunately, my classes this semester should bring greater fulfillment. I am excited for all of them and confident that it will be far more engaging. This has certainly leveled out my mood and makes me more excited for the coming days. Additionally, I do have plane tickets for a holiday back to Oxford. I will certainly write about how my return has coloured my former year abroad and anything else I may learn. Until then, the countdown to that trip and my graduation begin.

Now that I've caught everyone up, for the most part, I'll draw on the concept that has been rolling around in my head. I watched a Ted talk the other day about altruism. I honestly think that a certain degree of altruism and selflessness, service to others, helps one to be more happy. So in response to this, I decided to follow one of his suggestions and try compassion meditation. A quick rundown of compassion meditation. You begin by relaxing your body. Then you start with yourself and think about the happiness and wellness that you wish for yourself. Then you meditation on all your friends and close friends and wish them the same. Then your acquaintances. Then your friends of friends. Then those communities which you know of. Finally ending with well wishes for all those in every cardinal direction.

 In doing this, I meditated on everyone I knew that I considered a close friend or acquaintance and I marveled for a moment at the shear number of people that I care about. There are so many people that I wish well and know well. There are so many people that I want to and hope that I support. But this realization hit an point of conflict within myself. If I have so many amazing people in my life, why is it that I feel lonely. Why is it that I feel like I have fewer close friends than I want?

My instinct led me to examine who I had included on the list and I realized that about half, maybe a bit less, were long distance of one form or another. I still felt like I had meaningful relationships with all of them, but our relationships were on hold or limited. Every so often, I felt myself staring at my Facebook messenger hoping that one or more of those people would be available to talk. This has left me with a peculiar sort of loneliness. I don't feel antisocial and I don't lack in friends. But I still feel lonely.

I'm sure many people can commiserate with this feeling. As I try to dissect what is necessary for what feels like a complete relationship, and what it is that makes physical proximity so vital for relationship, I felt the need to describe this peculiar loneliness in some way. I hope in some ways I can make peace and wait for the time when some of that friendship is no longer long distance, but I foresee only more in the future. I have thought much about the way convenience rules our lives, limits our capabilities and dictates the communities that we can be apart of. Inconvenience has its cost and I hope at some point I will find a way to manage it.

Until Next Time,
Adventures Await,

KH

Where do I go from here

Over the last few weeks a lot has happened in some areas of my life and in other not so much. I’ll begin by talking about Fall break, which was about two weeks ago. I went home with my best friend Devi to visit her family and friends in Thorton Colorado (just outside Denver). The trip was a long one. It takes 8 hours to drive straight there (not exactly going the speed limit). We gained an hour on our way there and lost an hour on our way back. We went in Devi’s car which unfortunately (or fortunately) is a stick shift, which meant that I could not help with the drive. I did my best though to stay awake and keep her company.

I was really excited for this trip. One, I was going to finally go mountain climbing (a task I had been planning and failing to do for almost a year now), two, I was going to see the places that my best friend loved and had told me about, and finally, and most importantly, I was going to get the opportunity to reconnect with my dearest friend. During the first two months of school, I had been anything but a good friend. So caught up in my own suffering, I found it difficult to talk opening and closely with her. Each time I spoke with her, I would watch her face frown and her eyes intensify with a mixture of worry and pity. It hurt me to see the hurt in her and I knew that as someone who had just come back from a life changing journey of her own to India, she was suffering in much the same way I was. It was my hope that during this trip we could get back to the core of our friendship and it did. I think that is what made this trip the best for me. No matter what I saw, or did, I got a best friend back and I got to make some new memories with her.

We only spent 3 and ½ days in Colorado, but it was filled with plenty of activity. Devi had numerous favourite coffee shops to show me, and that is what we did. We also left a little time for work, as the first day was spent homeworking (yes I made that a verb), with a little break through a park. This break was actually quite a nice surprise as the park near the library (where we spent the rest of the afternoon) had hundreds of prairie dogs…they were extremely adorable and I had never seen them so up close and personal. The next day we went to downtown Denver and I got to admire the long pedestrian walk way and some of the finer points of Denver’s public transportation. We also just saw the sights and sounds of the city and I was once again struck with the ways cities function in the US.

Now, I have been looking at Med schools and a lot of my choices have reflected a very careful consideration of the environment around that med school. I have looked at schools in cities which I think would have some of the lifestyle choices that I want to experience. Denver is on that list (University of Colorado, Denver). I was really hoping that Denver would feel new, and fresh and innovative…but it didn’t. It felt like Indy, or KC, or any other American city I have been to (with a few exceptions). I was a bit disappointed. This did kind of scare me. Maybe the feeling I was looking for, the public transportation, the nature cityscape, was a dream or a fabrication that I was never going to find again. I tried not to let this bother me. There are plenty beautiful things in Denver as well and I was grateful for the opportunity to explore it with a local.

We ended the day in Denver by going to the art museum with Devi’s mother. It was a great experience. We saw a local exhibit from a oil painter that I found captivating. We limited ourselves to two exhibits and I was thoroughly impressed with the scope and beauty of the museum. There was a moment though that stopped me dead in my tracks. I have made great strides in my ability to get over Oxford and my experience. I no longer feel the weight and longing that I did and I can usually talk about it freely without having to revisit the depression that I felt. But something about walking through the art museum reminded me of one of the last times I had been to an art museum, the Ashmolean near the end of my stay. It was as though the wind had been knocked out of me and I wondered if I wouldn’t collapse where I stood. Just another reminder that you can’t run away from your past and there will always be scars.

The last full day we spent in Denver was the one that I was looking forward to the most. Getting up extremely early (5am), Devi and I set off for Estes Park to go mountain climbing. We went to one of her more familiar trails and set off in the early hours to reach Tiger lake. It took about an hour or so to drive to Estes park from Devi’s home. When the car turned a corner and stretched before me was a valley which contained a small town beside Estes Park and the snow capped mountains just beyond, it was breath taking. I could feel my self grow more excited. We started the trail at about 8am (this was after grabbing coffee at another one of Devi’s favourites). It is a good thing I had a lot of enthusiasm because it was a constant uphill battle towards the lake. We climbed so high that it began snowing and both Devi and I covered ourselves back up in layers. I felt the challenge, but always kept up with the quick pace that a natural of the mountains, Devi, took. We reached the lake, after crossing some rapids with the bridge out, about 4 hours later at noon. We were getting a little tired, but mostly we were cold. We didn’t stay too long before turning around and making our way back. Sometimes you never realize how long you have been going up hill until you start going down it. It was a bit worrying going down, as the trail was littered with jagged rocks and once or twice I landed on them wrong. I tried to keep cheerful, but by the end of the journey, I was hurtin pretty bad. My hips were surprisingly the first to protest and I was relieved to reach the car. That said, I felt very accomplished. I have a fitbit pedometer and all around fitness calculator, which I wore through the whole journey. It felt good to accomplish the 16 mile hike round trip and climb the equivalent of 288 flights of stairs. I like to feel that I have earned my day, I have earned the opportunity to live, I have demonstrated my youth and fitness. Though it is clear it wore me out, as I crashed at 10pm that evening (an early night for a college student).

The last day we enjoyed some more time with Devi’s family before making the long and exhausting journey back. The drive back was a lot harder than the drive there, but I was grateful to have gotten to take the journey with my best friend.

Since coming back, I have continued to balance my social and academic life. It is working out better now, but I am struck by the constant grind that is academics at Jewell. I still struggle finding meaning in all of it. One of the good things that has happened is that my Medical School application is finally live and I have begun filling out the numerous secondary applications for the 9 schools that I am applying to. This has gotten me thinking about what I want to do after med school (I realize this is looking a bit far). I have begun to try and imagine my life as a doctor. There is one thing that has been rolling around in my head quite a bit. I have developed a fierce affection for infectious disease (this I’ve had for a long time) and I have also become very sensitive to global crisis. For awhile I joked about working for the CDC combating infectious disease in the lab, but with my new found global interests, I am thinking that maybe it would be better to look at a more global organization. I am honestly considering a career with the world health organization. Now there is a part of that which terrifies me. The idea of going into the developing world (far from my western amenities) is a struggle for me, but I also really like the idea of helping people and being there to fight crisis. I’m not adverse to putting myself at risk for such a goal either. I also like the freedom that such a career would give in terms of livability. Being a part of an international organization will give me the opportunity to see the world and possibly be based in any city I like. The restraints that I have now become aware of as a United States citizen may be more flexible as I truly get to be a global citizen. I’m of course not committing to anything yet, but it has been on my mind and it will take some time for me to sort the reality of the situation to the fantasy that I have constructed in my head. But it is worth mentioning.

I guess to conclude, I am trying to make the most of my situation here. I am trying to incorporate the lessons I have learned and the experiences I have had to my future in a real way. I still talk with people from the UK every day and I am touched by the friendship that I have found there. I am looking forward to visiting again next summer. There is a community there and it is waiting for me. There is a part of me that will never feel whole again without it. In the mean time, I am trudging forward, intrepidly and with a little bit of weariness. But, it is safe to say, all things considered, I’m doing just fine.

Until Then,

Adventures Await!

This is what Friends are For

The last two weeks have been more of the same. By that I mean, I have been crushed and beaten and despite my efforts to be a good person, I have failed. Despite this, I have really validated some of things I learned about myself over the last year and have come to new revelations about myself. It is very difficult to express grief (I feel offended by anyone who describes it as angst). I have also reached the point where I refuse to let myself wallow, because honestly that is what I have been doing. I have allowed myself to take joy in grief, particularly twisted satisfaction in the form of self perceived martyrdom.

The week before last was homecoming. I have my own reservations about the nature of homecoming and particularly the way my university practically forces everyone to participate through the strict homecoming competition. Even with my reservations about the meaning behind such activity, I do generally enjoy the opportunity to work towards something and I think by now, most of you know how competitive I am. It was probably during the practices for homecoming that I realized how vital it is for me to have a creative outlet. We were practicing our song and dance for competition and the activity, the theatrics of the event sent me into a creative high of un-abandoned joy though perhaps a bit chaotically. The opportunity to be theatrical, to improv, and creatively express myself had been so stifled since my return. Without regularly role playing (or GMing), I was missing a piece of myself and it was very clear that this was a major component to my unhappiness. To some degree, this realization spurred my seeking alternatives, and I have, though tenuously, found a group of people to role play with again.

Another problem with homecoming for me is how it affects my health. A good majority of homecoming requires screaming and cheering as loud as possible (in order to win the competition). I suffer from migraines on occasion. Migraines for me are triggered through exertion of my voice and result in aberrations of my vision followed by a painful headache (enough to knock me out of doing anything), and if I remain conscious, regional numbness and tingling. Even if I take the maximum dose of ibuprofen, I still get a headache. Not to mention, the next day, I am usually scattered and suffer from secondary lack of focus and mental fortitude. I avoid migraines as much as possible and have even become attune to notice when I am approaching the point of no return for them. Every year that I have participated in homecoming, I have gotten a migraine. Of course, this year was no different. This was not made better by my required participation. It makes me feel awful to let down the members of my sorority. I want to be able to participate, but I am always hesitant and it is not often understood my need to step back to avoid disaster.  

So homecoming was busy and emotionally draining. Fortunately that weekend I was able for the first time in two weeks to hang out with friends. I felt revitalized (well perhaps not physically, yay parties). Friendship is all I need to sustain me. For the first time in weeks, I actually felt a considerable amount of peace and happiness, even when everything else in my life was a reminder that nothing had really changed.

This last week has been far less eventful, but still a reminder that I’m not through the woods yet. There is a degree of distance that I have undergone. The emotions are less intense, but I will admit that this has left me wistful. A reminder about the impermanence of everything. I will admit that this has brought on a considerable bought of nostalgia. As I mark the one year mark from when I left Oxford, the ability to visualize that time has become so clear. Though the feelings and emotions associated are held at a distance with the bittersweet mark of nostalgia.

One of the classes that I am taking, and I don’t think I’ve complained about on this blog, is my Critical Thought and Inquiry capstone (for non-Jewell people this just means final course in the core curriculum). It is a class which focuses on the relationship between Plague Piety and Public Policy. Now you might be saying, “Kayla, didn’t you pretty must take this class in Oxford through your human growth and development epidemiology course?” and the answer would be yes. Yes I did. I could teach this class most days. Yet another example of the frustrations I am having with this year. But ignoring that fun little tidbit about my life, the reason I bring it up is to talk about one of the books we are reading in it. Camus’s Plague does perhaps the best job capturing some of my emotional states over the last few months. In his book, he follows the narrative of town in Algeria as it is hit by a plague and enters a quarantine. In particular, his writing in the first part of act 2 is particularly poignant. At this point in the story, the town has shut down its boarders suddenly and without warning for most of its people. This has left a number of people trapped inside the town and a number of people trapped outside. He spends most of this first section discussing the feelings of separation that the people within the quarantine zone suffered. The following are quotes that I think capture the many moments and frustrations that I felt I faced and thus felt great empathy for.

 “It was undoubtedly the feeling of exile --- that sensation of a void within which never left us, that irrational longing to hark back to the past or else to speed up the march of time, and those keen shafts of memory that stung like fire” (Camus 71).

“Therefore they forced themselves never to think about the problematic day of escape, to cease looking to the future, and always to keep, so to speak, their eyes fixed on the ground at their feet” (Camus 72).

 “Thus, too, they came to know the incorrigible sorrow of all prisoners and exiles, which is to live in the company with a memory that serves no purpose. Even the past, of which they thought incessantly, had a savor only of regret.” (Camus 73).

 “Hostile to the past, impatient of the present, and cheated of the future, we were much like those whom men’s justice or hatred, forces to live behind prison bars” (Camus 73).

“’But, damn it, Doctor, can’t you see it’s a matter of common human feeling? Or don’t you realize what this sort of separation means to people who are fond of each other?’
Rieux was silent for a moment, then said he understood it perfectly. He wished nothing better than that Rambert should be allowed to return to his wife and that all who loved on another and were parted should come together again…
‘No,’ Rambert said bitterly, ‘you can’t understand. You’re using the language of reason, not of the heart; you live in a world of abstractions.’
 The doctor glanced up at the statue of the Republic, then said he did not know if he was using the language of reason, but he knew he was using the language of the facts as everybody could see them---which wasn’t necessarily the same thing” (Camus 87).

"Abstraction for him was all that stood in the way of his happiness. Indeed, Rieux had to admit the journalist was right, in one sense. But he knew, too, that abstraction sometimes proves itself stronger than happiness; and then, if only then, it has to be taken into account" (Camus 91)

So, hopefully his words can better express the way I have been feeling. I hate to have to defer to the words of another to express myself, but I was struck by the skill that these passages had at capturing those feelings.  But once again, I foresee your comment. You say, “but Kayla, you are not in a quarantine. You are not physically prevented from going places. Probably most all, you are not faced with death and loss in the same way as the people in this book faced them. Surely your emotions could not hold the same strength.”

To that I say, I think they do. The quarantine is not imposed by the government, it does not result in physical death and the people I know and care about are still within touch via Skype and many other means of communication which makes my position all the more privileged. However, the internet does not contain the same reality as real life and is subject to a number of conditions that aren’t necessarily always true. In particular, does the other person have technology capable of communication, do you or the other person have internet. Images can not replace physical presence. I am not free to go anywhere. I am restricted by convenience. Limited by what is inconvenient. And the more I am absent in those people’s lives, the more they diminish in significance and reality as I do for them. Perhaps we are all quarantined in such ways, but the situation is made painfully apparent to me through this abrupt transition. I am struck each time by how much my life in Oxford feels like a fantasy. My travels must have happened in my imagination, because the memory is no more real than television. That is what is most painful. Reading this passage of Camus’s book nearly brought me to tears as I found myself face to face with my own reality.

All this being said, the only way to move forward is positively. I have to keep trying to make things better and I have to keep fighting the oppressive feeling of exile. I have learned that I don’t advocate for myself when I am suffering. I am more inclined to value the suffering of another over my own. I will trap myself into complaining about my own suffering but not doing anything about it.  It is self-centered in a way that is self-gratifying and I need to make changes. So I am trying, one day at a time. For now though, I may dwell in some nostalgia, but only for a moment.

Source: Camus, Albert. The Plague. New York: Modern Library, 1948. Print.

Update

I have tried a new experiment this time. Rather than in one moment writing out all of my thoughts, I have kept a record of my thoughts and feelings over the course of the last week. The result is a little more disjointed than usual and in some ways more personal, be warned now. To give the short of it, this week was a few thousand steps backwards in terms of my emotional journey coming home. Additionally, I was hit is a new set back, my research project needs to be completely redone. There goes nearly a year of work. These are some of my reflections and while I could have kept them to myself, I did feel some need to post them more publically. I still don't know why I prefer this medium of sharing my life, perhaps it is because I acknowledge that I am not wise or experienced enough to understand myself and by publically stating it I hope for some kind of help. This feels more real. An honest acknowledgement of myself. It is a way to embrace who I am, because if I don't share it then it suggest there is something I dislike or am ashamed of about myself. Well, I suppose I should get on with it. These musings are for another time. 

It is amazing the need I feel to impact my surroundings, to truly inhabit them. I am suffocated by the endless fear that my absence will not be felt, particularly in a space I enjoyed inhabiting. If I've found a home, a place worth being, then I want to mark it as my space, wrap myself in the scenery, make an indention in the matter that makes my absence a void, a reminder that I am not there. For I know that to be forgotten is a true death. To be forgotten by people you care about, a more true death than any in mortal flesh. (I find the drama, while melancholy in nature, also peaceful because my feelings are melancholy in nature and weigh me down. It makes me sad to think that honesty and phrasing make others rebuke and mock my feelings. There is truth in melodrama. Sometimes things are felt strongly enough to warrant strong responses. Just because language seems extreme it doesn't mean I don't have the experience to judge it so and or that I am trying to manipulate people into being sympathetic.)  It feels as though my life before England was filled with half emotions. To feel is to be alive. I remember the haze only interrupted by Gencon and moments of embarrassment. I recognize that memory is an untrustworthy historian, and I'm sure there were a few happy moments as well as there were sad ones in England. Memory is all I have and I think back to the moment where I sat beside someone I cared about and thought, come a months time or two, I will be sitting somewhere else, far from this person and the new place will feel more real than this moment. This space will be only memory and imagination, a pale replacement for real life. I will begin to question its reality and make fictitious accounts of this experience. It will no longer be the present. I will lose its presence in my self and I will be entrenched in an experience which lacks even an ounce of the life I so enjoyed. I will be trapped in a foreign place which I have no desire to impart myself into. I will mourn a space I left more strongly than any person who still inhabits the space around it. Because I know that my impact will be lost. Like an impression in snow, my presence is impermanent. I will be forgotten. I will die. 

and no, it will not be a quick death. It will be a slow one. Like a terminal patient, I will get many visitors for a time, then fewer and then none. I anticipate the loneliness and that loneliness when it comes will be unbearable. 

The emotions I am having are unstable at best and self destructive at worst. My back has clenched in more ways than I can count and despite spending an hour meditating and trying to relax, I only felt a deep pain in both my upper and lower back. I get anxious all of the time, often without reason. I have been prone to burst of anger so red and hot that the thought of punching someone or something was appealing for the catharsis. I feel like I can't rely on my friends because they don't quite understand these feelings and many are struggling with their own version of suffering. To rely on them would be cruel and burdensome, Particularly when there is little they can do. Sympathy or empathy are unhelpful as while they may alleviate temporary stress and frustration, when those feelings are constant, it becomes disingenuous. My attempts to find solutions have all been met with failure and I am stuck and hopeless. I just need something to change and I've run out of options or the only changes I see are ones that are worse. 

My family suggested medication or therapy and that terrifies me more. Why should someone live a way that makes them unhappy? Taking medication or even therapy feels like treating a symptom not a cause. It is a step to live with a situation, giving up, making a situation bearable. Why shouldn't we listen to our feelings? Why do I feel like everyone denies their feelings and expects me to do the same? 

One of the struggles is that my life is filled with so much tedium that there is often little time to seek alternatives. I waste my time with my courses which aren't preparing me for my future career and are meaningless boxes that I have to tick to receive a piece of paper that says I'm competent enough to continue my education. It is remarkable how little this year will impact my future and I am left questioning why it has to happen at all. I've taken the MCAT and my applications are sent out. I struggle to see how this year is making me a better physician and given the struggle it is to live through, I wish that I didn't have to bother. 

I have found some calm, today or yesterday, and this is through the realization that I have to find some way to make being alone fulfilling. Which for an extrovert like me is like asking a person to live in a desert with no water.  I read somewhere that happiness is about action. It is engaging in activity which makes you happy. Passivity is never going to make a person happy. And I do try. I have tried many times to actively pursue happiness, but with little luck these last couple months. It is funny, in moments where something resembling the activity I once liked occurs, I become giddy with emotion as all the emotions and outlets that have remained bottled up spill over. Similarly, in those moments alone, I still find the pain creep out and suffocate me. Where I thought I was done crying, I find more tears and suffering. 

Convenience and Professionalism, or lack there of

I should preface this by saying that I am doing better, or at least some version of better. I no longer feel like each day should be spent in bed and the amount of crying has subsided. I even have a few moments I enjoy here or there. So, while things are better, there are still plenty of things which frustrate me day to day. I still get sad and angry and there are still days where my bed seems to be more attractive than spending another moment here.

I am fortunately more busy. I think this is one of the main things to improve my mood. When I am busy, I don’t worry about the future and feeling productive has always been something that makes me feel good about myself. Though as a result, I have noticed that my mood often parallels my level of busy, with the beginning of a week beginning better than the end or the weekend. It is a weird cycle that tends to contradict most people’s feelings about the week and it leaves me often not emotionally available when other people are up for hanging out.

One of the ideas that I have been contemplating these last couple weeks is the idea of convenience. How much of our lives as humans is determined by convenience. There seem to be many levels of convenience. Things that are convenient and you do, things that are convenient but you don’t do, things that are inconvenient and you don’t do them and finally things that are inconvenient but you do them anyway. Convenience also seems to be a sliding scale with the activity falling into a careful cost reward calculation. Humans seem most inclined to do things that cost little and have a large reward. That seems to be darwinian in a way and thus natural. But to do something that is inconvenient seems to be contradictory for human nature. What does it mean to do something that is inconvenient? Does it suggest that you are betraying some natural part of yourself. I’m not sure I want an answer, but it has been something on my mind as I consider how my life is structured now and how I want to structure it in the future. To what extent do I let inconvenience dictate my life, my relationships.

The other concept which has been popping up in my life a lot is professionalism, in particular the lack of it here at Jewell. It is a systemic problem of both the faculty and students here at Jewell to check their email and respond in a timely manner. I don’t care how busy you are, it is irresponsible to not be reachable by email. In particular, my pre-med advisor has been bad at getting to me about medical school aps, the athletics department took forever to email me back about archery, and most of all my sorority sisters are completely failing at being available. This lack of professionalism leads to me feeling alone and isolated. I’ve gone back to the old way of thinking that I can’t rely on anyone but myself to get things done. It becomes frustrating when you feel as though other people are holding you back. One particular anxiety I have is concerned with my medical school applications. I am still waiting on Oxford and my administration to handle my grades. Without my transcript, I can’t even submit my med school applications. The first deadline (Sept 30) is fast approaching and I am left stagnated waiting on other people to get their shit together.

It is an unending string of frustration here. Finally after nearly a week from when I went into the offices to inquire about archery they got back to me, perhaps the only good news I have had in awhile. I can’t rely on this community to support me. The infrastructure is weak. I never felt like I had this problem when I was in Oxford, even when I had two tutors bail on me.
In fact, my whole education here has been an unending string of frustrations. Last week, I came to the realization that a majority of my tutorials here at Jewell were from first time tutors. In fact, all the current biology tutors are tutors who has me as their first tutee. I have systematically trained and become the benchmark for all the tutorials at Jewell in the Molecular Biology program. The person in charge of my program now had her first tutorial experience with me my sophomore year. I can’t help but feel like my education has suffered from this string of misfortunes. Add on the fact that I am the single Molecular Biology major in my grade and that my experience was already unique to begin with. I just feel the weight of this frustrations on me every day as I am inconvenienced left and right by other people. As I suffer each strike against me that could have seriously negative consequences on my future, a future that I am already sacrificing for.

So yes, I suppose my latest emotional thrust has been one of deep anger and frustration and not one of depression. Still there is a sort of hopelessness that accompanies these frustrations, so much of it is beyond my control. A common theme of this year seems to be having to accept with resignation what is happening to me, because the commitment I made was one of ignorance but not without reservation. Now I am vindicated by the reservations I had but it is to late. I must lie in the bed I made.