ange's musings

So it's thirty-seven minutes before 1st August 2017 and I am sitting on my sofa, full of prosecco (yes it's Monday) and perhaps a little tiddly. The words of a friend no longer in my community and a different friend via whatsapp who is currently in Freetown, Sierre Leone are providing me with the peace and encouragement whilst I live my little, (rather tipsy) individualistic lifestyle in Clifton, Bristol for another, week and another month, as another five minutes counts down. Why did I feel the need to buy some prosecco on a Monday night? Why is one of the only friends I can draw solace from communicating with in Sierre Leone? Why do I live alone despite my best attempts to find an appropriate housemate? Why will it be so hard to get out of bed tomorrow morning despite it being a day off work? And why, did I just impulsively book a return flight to Spain for the bank holiday weekend in August? None of these questions have clear answers. All I know is that whilst I have be

 1, 8, 2, 8, 11, 90 – the number of days between each blog post since I first attempted to start writing again on 30 th March. How did I start so well and then lose focus so quickly? Funnily enough I had thought I started writing for me and me alone so when just before my last post, I found out someone was actually reading these ramblings, I slightly freaked out. Someone I respected was actually bothering to read my posts? Someone cared enough about my conscious thoughts to take time to read this thing? Clearly that knowledge had an impact on my and days turned into weeks, turned into months and here I am 90 days later wondering what the point of doing this was again. Trying to write something coherent when my flow of thoughts is so incoherent. Not knowing whether it’ll help me, whether there’s any point and there’s a lot on my mind right now. For want of a better description of the situation, let’s just say I have been having a bit of an existential crisis in recent weeks. In t

I recently met up with one of the first friends I made at university. I can’t remember exactly how we met. She was a medical student like me and her love for the Lord was strong and conspicuous and so our friendship grew, all those years ago. One of the most vivid memories I have of those early days of getting to know one another, was a trip the various bookstores in Bristol to make some decisions about which medical textbooks were worth investing in and which we could borrow from the library. It was comforting to meet someone who held a similar trepidation to me with regards to starting university and indeed, medicine– that unique and bizarre course that would have such significant consequences on our respective lives. Back then it was easy to answer the question: who am I becoming? Forty plus hours a week, give or take were spent attending lectures, being in the lab, examining cadavers, seeing patients with our allocated GP or studying in the library or at halls, all with one focus

It's only 7 days since my last post but it feels like a lot more. Judging from the content of my post on 12th April it's not surprising I feel utterly burnt out and on the brink of exhaustion. Maybe this is a slight overstatement but it doesn't really feel like it. In the last 3 days I have driven about 350-400 miles which is more than I normally do in a full week commuting to Swindon 4 days a week. Additionally, 2 of those journeys were to London and I've managed to avoid driving into central London for 33 years so it was an additional challenge I didn't really need. Thankfully it wasn't too terrible and the return drive to Bristol yesterday was really easy. The M4 was practically empty. Work wise I am feeling rather stretched. My annual appraisal first meeting is tomorrow with my boss and as a result, I have been incredibly busy both clinically and with non-clinical projects, several of which I do not feel on top of. Finally, I have not had any annual leave

    Today is my day off work. It’s just gone 4.31pm on a Tuesday and this is the first opportunity I’ve had all day to sit down and take a moment to just ‘be’. How is it, that even when I have had to justify to my training authority that I need my hours reduced to 80% full-time equivalent and incur the consequent pay reduction, I still find the task of setting aside time to rest and recuperate, watch and listen, be mindful of my surroundings, body, emotions and thoughts an interminable challenge? It seems that there is always something….even now, it’s time to stop writing this post and go catch a train to London.