The sky is fall with a pale yellow circle. I look through my list of blog an eye on the screen, the other erring on the garden. The splint on my arm, what can I do? The dishwasher is running. My morale touches the carpet. This (the carpet) has been abandoned for some time. The vacuum of space has not moved since, say, no, I dare not say.
I would not say I'm depressed. I'm beat-up. I graduated from my degree in brilliantly, but I have not had time to realize it. Pressure constant during these three and a half dropped, but did not know where to ask. After my internship in the Emergency and even after the last, in Psychiatry, I was motivated by a joy that swarmed with projects, challenges. And here I am the arm against your body as a shield. A failed act?
Eight days post geriatric care worker and I'm hurt. Injured ego? Injury in the crack? Injury that could have been avoided if senior people heard me when I said that my shoulder was weak and I was not able to do those three weeks in AS on the area of geriatrics. Three short weeks "at risk" pending the results of the ED I proposed an alternative : Stay where you shrink is not handling sick. No answer. The die was cast.
And there, I feel diminished, to be incorrect. On the flip side of all my projects. Pawns on a chess board reversed. Strategies escape me, my insight and thoughts that go into a spin.
I do not know what will happen to me. Putting my "handicap" in front for me to "protect" I might be a little hot date on uninteresting posts, such consultations or I do not know what.
This is "castration" of motivation, skills recognized in other sectors.
This afternoon, I will try to stir heaven and earth in the offices of right-thinking people (and especially cramped in their seats well padded), gesticulating with my left arm!
continued ...
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