Separateness

Nothing could have prepared me for the disorienting disconnection of vet school. It’s truly shocking how separate I feel from the rest of the world. And I am unable to recognize it until something jolts me back into the present moment. The morning before my last Spring final, I decided to sit on my front porch. I was so over finals and had accepted my fate. It had been spring for WEEKS, and I legitimately had not seen any of the blossoms or buds or greenery until that moment in the second or third week of May. I had walked out that same door every morning, driven the same tree lined road daily, and I had been so disconnected that I hadn’t seen the color or life that was flourishing all around me.

Sacrifice

I went into vet school knowing that I would be sacrificing almost every aspect of my life. I knew I would lose friends and precious time with family. I knew I would watch people begin their lives, get married, buy homes, travel, get their dream jobs, have children. I knew I would be stuck in the same place for longer than I ever wished to be. Yet, all the knowing in the world isn’t making it easier. I often dream of being anywhere but school. I envy those who can just take time off when they request it. I long for the day that I can make it to birthdays and see my friends more than once a year. I grieve the loss of the life and freedom I once had, the ability to be there for people when they needed me or simply wanted me. My people are making sacrifices too; they are the ones keeping the relationship afloat right now and having grace for my absence. Vet school can feel quite selfish to me at times.

Self-comparison

Imposter syndrome is real. I don’t know who let me into vet school, but sometimes it feels like a mistake. I look at my predecessors and wonder how so many doctors have made it through. I’ve thought of myself as a pretty tough cookie, but what am I missing here? People talk about burnout and the rigor of vet school, but somehow they still seem organized and kind and prepared and involved and regularly feeding themselves and doing well in school. Who are these super humans and how do they keep their heads on straight? Even more spectacular are the people who know what day of the week it is and have prepared for the day. I don’t know how people do it. Some days the THOUGHT of having to feed myself is so overwhelming that my head spins. And most days I feel pretty proud just showing up.

Space

I miss having the space and time and energy to feel like a human being rather than a human doing. I despise that I feel burdened to make time to be a human. I do it anyway, but I’m often still resentful that vet school doesn’t just innately allow enough space to be a person. And even the times when I do do human things, I am not 100% there because I don’t have enough time to turn off AND do human things. I only have time to do human things while still working on slowing down my brain. We are given time and we get to choose how we use that gift of space. I know in my heart that this suffocating lack of space now is an investment to give myself even more space later, but wow, this perspective is easily clouded right now.

~ Em