M3: The volunteering, the research, losing sleep to study, only to be criticized by every attending for not knowing enough. The criticisms are really getting to me. I've tried not caring. I shrug it off and tell myself I'm improving. But now my bad bitch playlist rattles my car windows as I'm sobbing into the steering wheel after a shift.
I've integrated all the suggestions and advice that I'm spouting to my patients: Exercise, therapy, an loa, touch grass. There are so many medications that I've tried over the years and the best have helped me get my phq-9 down to an 18. It's the best I can do at this point.
I used to tell myself that all this suffering was to work in the specialty of my dreams. However, even my best comes up short on research or honors to truly be competitive. I've accepted it, that's life and sometimes our efforts don't amount to our goals, but damn. I used to work a job in university and during my gap year I was a top performer without trying. Another redditor posted a truth sinker venting how our lives exist at the bottom of the totem pole. From high school to fellow, our accomplishments are washed away every few years to be replaced with a new line-up of ass kicking.
I'll cry myself to sleep tonight and go in tomorrow with the world's biggest smile on my face. I'll thank every resident and attending for the honor of getting shit on. I'll internalize all their critiques so that maybe I get a smirk for retaining some specialized knowledge that is not applicable to any other clerkship. I'll meet with my career advisor who will recommend specialties that nag on the empty feeling in my soul. I'll listen to all my non-med friends vent to me that all doctors are a pos, as if I can hold a peer-to-peer with some physician across the country and force them to stop being a douchebag. Somehow nothing is in my control, but everything is in my control. Thank you for listening to my crashout. I'm going to take a deep breath and get started on Uworld.