The Island of Misfit Doctors

The reason that I make reference to myself as a misfit in my blog title is because, in truth, I feel like one. Duh. I don't feel like I've found my home in the medical community and I'm surrounded by people who feel a pull towards a specialty like I feel a pull toward the bakery at Publix. I've become increasingly anxious and disheartened as the months pass and I continue to feel like an outsider among my peers.

As hard as it is to admit sometimes, I oscillate between painful insecurity and confident badassery. Add this to my need to make people better and it leads to some really self-neglectful behaviors. These traits are also the reason that I am absolutely meant to be a doctor.

It's funny how one weekend's worth of events can hit you like a Mack truck in a way that 3 years of medical school haven't. In truth, I've known where I want to be since August. I'm a born psychiatrist. Not saying that I'm not talented in other areas or that I don't like the OR or pregnant ladies, but I have this incredible feeling of joy, humility, fear, respect and stimulation when working with people that are trapped within the chemical imbalances of their brain. Mental illness doesn't scare me. I scare me.

I strongly believe that people need to break before they can put themselves back together again if things don't fit right. Also, the words of friends and mentors are often truer than the things you think about yourself.

The whole bang-up conclusion that I've come to is that I've been looking at external things as sources of happiness and contentment. Specialty... friends... boyfriend... parents... scrubs (fo' real). Especially my specialty choice. It's like I've been wanting to be a doctor who is also Lauren, as opposed to Lauren who is also a doctor.