Oh yes, I’m back without attack, like how I was before. / With growing strides and doubt that hides / away from breaking thoughts.
Terrified beyond belief I never thought I’d be. / I’m overcome, I’m overrun, with little left to show. / I’m standing still, the world a thrill, my watching from within — / this room of mine, it’s time to shine —
The subject of mental health is especially close to my heart; my struggle with depression and anxiety has had an immense impact on my experience during medical school. Yet I never realized how utterly commonplace this is until reading a recent piece on Medscape, “Med Student Suicide, Depression: National Response Needed.” I had no idea, none at all, how many others there were struggling just like me. What I do know is, had there been a screening method in place and more than a half-ditch effort to de-stigmatize these problems, my medical school experience could have been vastly different.
It was not at a specific moment in time nor the result of an inciting event, but soon after medical school began, I started to forget who I was. I don’t mean early-onset Alzheimer’s or a drug-induced psychosis type of forgetting; I mean lost all sight of what made me me type of forgetting.
how quickly one turns on oneself inner demons circling overhead like opportunistic infections ready to invade predator and prey so vulnerable unprotected and unarmed. survival of the fittest I wrote this poem just a few weeks ago during a moment of overwhelming emotions that felt all too familiar. I’ve been writing poetry since middle school; it has always been a source of refuge for me, an outlet for my deepest fears and anxieties. Letting my …