psych it to me

i am currently rotating through psychiatry.  i had no idea how emotionally draining it would be.  well, i manage to get through the day unfazed.  but as soon as i get home, i have to shut off.  on the weekend, i completely crash and sleep 12+ hours (the norm my body needs is around 7).  instead of studying, i watch the same episodes of my favorite tv shows over and over and over.

but i am grateful to have a preceptor who allows me to share my frustrations and fears.  i was hugely concerned.  there is a young girl on the ward who has paranoid schizophrenia.  like, scary bad.  like, exorcist bad.  when she was first admitted, we interviewed her mother at length because the patient couldn't give us real answers.  i won't forget that conversation with the mother anytime soon; the grief that was heard over the phone was almost palpable.  imagine you are told that your only child, whom you've watched grow up from a wide-eyed, smiling baby, is dead.  now imagine being told that every single day, for decades.  this is basis of this mother's suffering; that even though her child's body is breathing and walking, her mind was in such disrepair that the person she used to be is essentially gone.

this mother's grief was so familiar.  i felt myself welling up during the phone interview.  that night i couldn't sleep.
by no means am i saying our suffering was one and the same.  but it was just familiar enough, that it opened up psychic doors i had closed a long, long time ago.  closed only for the fact that i hadn't the conscious tools to properly deal with that kind of loss.  i couldn't sleep.  i couldn't study.  all there was left to do was shut down.  and so i did.  the rest of the week was sleepless, making coming to the ward an agonizing exercise in futile gesture.

i tried sharing my confusions and fears with a classmate, hoping that perhaps just the act of sharing would bring about some peace.  but it wasn't until i was able to converse with my preceptor that i felt some relief.  i learned from him that the last thing anyone should hear when grieving is, "you should."  like, "oh, since you're just a student in this situation, you should use this time as an opportunity to learn to develop proper coping mechanisms."  "oh, you shouldn't feel bad about it because there's nothing you can do."

all nice sentiments.  but to tell a person in mourning that they "should," is like tying another psychological weight onto a balloon that they're trying to release.  and to hear that "'should' is inappropriate" -- that idea coming from a licensed professional was greatly relieving.  i was hugely concerned that i hadn't the proper mental tools to control myself.  that because i couldn't heal myself, i in turn could never become a healer to others.  that because i was emotional, over-empathetic, weak, i just wouldn't cut it.  that the past few years have been all for nothing.

one thing that i am appreciating more than anything in psychiatry is how important this idea is: there is no one reality.  everything lies on a spectrum.  to put things in black and white is an incredible disservice to others.  we, as rational people, must acknowledge the spectrum of human morality, social statuses, economic resources, spiritual beliefs.  otherwise, it is a slippery slope to losing what shred of commonality we all share.  it was a slippery slope that lead, for instance, to nazi germany not even a century ago.  it is our duty to help everyone, regardless of who they are or what they believe -- else, we are no better than animals.

in regards to my own grief, my own truth, my own spinning top locked in a safe...i desperately need to believe that it is still malleable.  that who i was in the past will not define who i become five years from now or prevent me from doing what needs to be done.  on this particular path i am traveling now, this hope has had many chances to grow.  repression might not be the worst choice here.  after all, if you don't open the box, who's to say if that cat is dead or alive...