pre-clinical melancholia

pre-clinical melancholia

By: Braeden Sagehorn he/him/his

sitting in the library, your apartment, your home, a time comes when the inside of your mind foments a maelstrom. the coming storm grabs all the energy inside you, vibrating intensely, until released much like that of a hurricane—at least that’s the case for some of us. through sports, interest groups, friends etc. many of us can push through that intensity emerging only lightly scathed. for others, however, it isn’t so easy. obviously. every person deals with things in their own way, but eventually it can start to pile up—the days pass on, and jaded becomes a less appropriate word to use. you come home from your clic site after seeing a child, relentlessly bullied and living in poverty, only to conclude that the few phone calls your preceptor makes to the school won’t change much. you think you remember reading about this in vitals. and you sit on your bed, turning your head towards the window. you try to tell yourself that pediatrics isn’t for you. remembering that it isn’t paid well. even if you would help a lot of kids. now you feel bad that you’re caring so much about money. until you don’t because you paid so much to get here, but you still do regardless. then you think about work-life balance. that's the rationale you go with. even though it doesn’t make sense. but it also does make sense. any speciality can have that if you try—even surgery. you just won’t be surging as much as you like. haha. but you’re not a surgeon, you're a confused student trying to process everything at once. you decide to take it slow. as much as you can. you remember you never wanted to be a surgeon. never pathology. and then there’s more studying. more stuff to do. so much writing, so much writing, so much writing. but you should be studying for step too, but you shouldn’t be either. and you didn’t do well on that irat. who cares. but you do a little. you could’ve studied a little more but you didn’t. then it passes. until it doesn’t. now you’re studying for leap. and you miss the summer too. it went by too quickly—no more summer. adiós. now you’re sadder than you were before. but you’re in med school. but you are in med school. and you’re getting the career that you’ve always wanted. but you want a break too. but you want responsibility too. you can’t have both and it's tough. you also have to do the dishes. every night. imagine sisyphus happy. you have to take leap a few more times. imagine his smile pushing that boulder up, up, up that hill. you stop for more coffee. you wish you were as shredded as sisyphus. no you don’t. yes you do. you don’t have that much time for the gym. and time’s moving slower now. faster now. You can feel the stress. it doesn’t help to know how cortisol works. it kind of does. it mostly doesn’t. you haven’t slept well in years. that's a lie. a few months. therapy helps a little bit. therapy helps a lot. it hasn’t helped my sleep. and so you keep going to therapy. and it works! you can’t believe it works. you keep going back again, and again, and again. feeling better is nice every now and then. now that you’re better you can see a lot more. you never realized that those metaphorical glasses made things look so strange. so you take them off. then the loneliness hits you. your password has expired. and you come to terms with it. no you don’t. you discover there’s so many different kinds of loneliness. romantic loneliness. academic loneliness. relationship loneliness. anki loneliness. strawberry loneliness. new england loneliness. biochemical loneliness. psychosocial loneliness. freeze-dried loneliness. anatomic loneliness. pathological loneliness. tiny loneliness. upside-down loneliness. beautiful loneliness. flat-footed loneliness. thrifty loneliness. yellow loneliness. cosmic loneliness. rainy loneliness. athletic loneliness. formaldehyde loneliness. caffeinated loneliness. shaggy hair loneliness. studious loneliness. study room loneliness. journal loneliness. beach loneliness. friendly loneliness. sanitized loneliness. afferent loneliness. exam time loneliness. russian lady loneliness. flirty loneliness. then they all flux in and out together, confusing you as to which one’s which. that is until you realize it doesn’t really matter. that is until you realize you haven’t left the library in hours. everything matters again. you don’t know what to do with your hands. so you do jazz hands alone. what a weirdo. no i’m not. maybe a little. you remember all the things that make you feel good. you remember you don’t have the time for them. not yet at least. that's the mantra you keep telling yourself. you do have the time. back to therapy. then out again. you’re feeling pretty good. leap again—not very cash money. you stop saying cash money. you say it in your head now. finally peace. and you cry, and you realize that you’re doing your best. the best is all you can ever do. and then time melts away and it’s leap again. you make good decisions. you get really nice friends. they care. they care! and i care about them too. your chest hurts so you write poetry. you miss your friends from home. you discover shoegaze (you weren’t an angsty teenager). maybe you were. but you’re sad again. less so, but still sad. blue loneliness. and you went to paris. parisian loneliness—it tasted the best. you listen to a lot of alt rock now. an angsty sisyphus. where is home? no, this isn’t home. you smile about the kid at clic who called you cool—they high fived you. you ride that wave all day. maybe you are cool. maybe you are helping. the sun is cool. it's really always there. the earth spinning just hides it. now you’re warmer because the sun is still there. even at night. even alone. and the world keeps spinning. so does your head. and you’re sad at what you’ve lost. sad at what you think you’ll never have. but you’ll have the music! and those awesome friends. now its leap again. then it isn’t anymore. it’s finally spring! and you keep writing poetry. lots of bad poetry. but that’s not why you write it. just keep swimming, just keep swimming. until finally you float. you write something good. something relatable. i miss talking to you. you remember you’ve had a lot of coffee today. you remember how caffeine acts on your body. no you don’t. off to uptodate. you just wrote a whole essay procrastinating. woops. no, not woops. wait yes woops. surprise it’s leap again. but you see a robin and then a bluejay. you remember you like birds. you wish you could sing like them. it’s spring again. the sun is out. the winter’s gone. the seasons always change after you really start enjoying them. you’re doing your best and you’ll always try to. these weeks are too fast. i still miss you but differently now. you remember the bluejays. the way they make you feel. now you’re walking around the reservoir. you leave therapy again. the world is spinning. not because of you, not for you, but with you. and that’s all you’ll really have. this dance together. the melancholia passes just as the days do. just as the seasons too. melt with it, and become something more. go beyond that sadness and embrace it. maybe i’m not lonely after all. maybe I am a little. peace at last. and it's spring again, and you just passed leap.