4 days down, 3 of which were spent in the ward already.
I’m glad to be back and be given the privilege again to do what i love. I am in love again. I’m in love with what i do, and it is probably the only thing that keeps me going and wanting more.
I don’t want this to end. Not now, not again, not ever.
I’m glad too, that i managed my expectations well. It is always better to err on the side of being too prepared, than to be ill-prepared.
But while i’m glad to be back, i’m afraid.
Afraid of being not good enough. Afraid of never being enough. Afraid of mediocrity. Afraid of settling for anything less. Afraid of being a failure. Afraid of disappointing. Afraid of not being able to cope. Afraid of not being strong enough. Afraid of trying too hard. Afraid of falling and tumbling. Afraid of crashing and burning. Afraid of losing myself.
And really, afraid that i may stop caring one day.
The worst has yet to come, and i can imagine how bad it’ll be. But i’m stressed already, of things that may be happening now, and of things that have yet to happen.
I feel terribly inadequate having been out of the clinical settings for 10 long months. I don’t think i’ve ever been out of touch for that long of a period. Although i have recovered some of the knowledge lost to amnesia, there are things which still need working on. More to learn even. I think ‘inadequate’ is such a gross understatement.
I find myself going back to what i used to be/do- “fake it till you make it”. And it should work wonders, just like how it used to be pre-morbidly. Just hoping that the cracks will not show, at least until i finish this stint.
I think that if i want something bad enough, i can make it happen. Just like how it has happened before, when i am nothing but desperate(or determined, as they would call it).
I’ve spoken to the ward sister, and depression did come into topic. Just as she gave me assurance that both the ward and herself will be supportive, i reassured her that i’ll do nothing but my best, and that i’ll never let RA and depression become an excuse to be anything less. She is accomodating too, to my follow-ups with my psychiatrist and psychologist, and i’m so darn grateful. I couldn’t ask for more.
I don’t know how things are going to be like for the next 78 days. I’m trying to live each day as it comes. I’m learning to be kinder to myself. I’m trying to remember that it’s all about the patients, and never about myself. I’m learning to let go- let go of my controls and accept that most things are not within my control and are unpredictable even.
And i’m trying- just trying endlessly without ceasing
I know it’ll be difficult. I know it’ll be tough. I know that there’ll be many obstacles along the way. I know that there’ll be times when i’ll feel completely defeated. I know that there’ll be times when giving up seems the most apt. I know i will cry. I know i will switch off sometimes.
But i’m going to be ok with it. It’s gonna be ok.
And i’m going to be just fine.
I should be so lucky, really.
That i am doing what i love.
“Father, into thy hands i commit my spirit.”
“Abba, Father, all things are possible to thee; remove this cup from me; yet not what i will, but what thou wilt.”