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It doesn’t matter how bad it was, how much it fucked me up, how I still have panic attacks and flashbacks and meltdowns from it, I have this constant feeling that my trauma just wasn’t bad enough. I tell myself it’s fine, maybe I’m just overreacting, just walk it off. But I can’t and I feel invalid for that because so many people went through so much worse.

It was so minimal but it was so much to deal with as a little kid

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I don’t really know what I’m gonna write here, I don’t know if i’m gonna post it. I think I need to write this for myself more than anything…I think this is gonna be a mess of words and there isn’t going to be any structure. I’m first gonna start off by saying I, am a mess. An absolute mess that doesn’t have a vision as what to do with my life. I didn’t think I would struggle to write this but I am. Could be the headache I’ve had for 2 days, but that’s a different part of this, story? Not a story, an unstructured mess of my mind. Yeah, i’ll go with that. I’ve been having Mental and medical problems that are coming up. I guess it’s my fault in a way. I don’t think I could have prevented it, but I could have taken the steps to help eliminate the problems faster. For example, I didn’t  have any type of insurance, because my anxiety was so bad I couldn’t make a phone call to take care of myself. I’m more mad at me than anything. It wasn’t until I was in sever pain and just so uncomfortable when I deiced I had to do something for myself. I don’t know why I’m writing this. Maybe because I feel like a big change is about to happen. I just started my anti depressants, there new for me. Haven’t tried these ones. I got a call from my doctor i guess, her office? Anyways. They are worried about my blood pressure being so low when I went to the ER, and again at my appointment. Asked if I’ve been feeling dizzy and I say, “yeah at night, when I’m trying to sleep my world will start spinning.” asked if I drank enough of water, yes I do, I think. I drink like 4 or 5 16 oz water bottles a day. They want me to come in for an MRI, which I’m doing obviously that’s the smart thing to do. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I have a lot of appointments coming up these next few weeks. I think thats all for right now, I don’t know if I’m gonna write more. maybe, like a public diary? Hah funny. who knows. I sure don’t 

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Finally, I am able to talk about it!!

First thing first I got hospitalised here in Italy, so before saying I am making stuff up (I get that a lot here on the internet!) please consider that, and ask me questions in case I need to specify.

In general: Alright, psychiatrist hospitals, surely useful and saved my life, but not a fun place to be in, at all. Bad thoughts were still there, they just monitored me all day every day, filling me up with drugs I did not want to take, but I was too numb and high on said drugs to refuse, high 42/7 in a truly tiring way. They would call you in a room during specific times of the day, and watched you as you took all of your meds, then let you go.

Social life: Doctors and nurses could not care less about you, your true allies and friend were other patient: most of them were fun to hang around with, oversharing every single detail of their life, others would just not talk- with no in-betweens. I of course overshared, there were NO social rules, NO awkwardness, we were all too high and looking for human contact to care about those. I met A LOT of sweet people over there, they all got out before me so I hope they’re alright 

Free time: tv was allowed in our section, the remote however wasn’t. There were a lot of puzzles, and I spent a lot of time redoing the one with bunnies on it. There was a little dining room with a good view where I would spend most of my time sharing stories with other patients.

Rules: No shoelaces, no shoes, no pencils, no sharpeners (so no drawing, unfortunately), no lighters (police had to come in to light up your cig), no scarves, no phones. There were 4 “levels”, from 1 to 4: if you were a 1 you couldn’t exit the facility, a 4 however could get out with permission whenever they wanted to. Also, we were all locked in with a code that could be unlocked only using the staff’s ID cards.


  1. Being so high I couldn’t understand the gravity of the situation
  2. walking in public in my pjs and comfy slippers
  3. tea

Cons: yes

A few surreal events:

  • Guy took off his shirt, yelling he was free to do whatever he wanted to
  • Two girls getting in a fight because ?
  • This one guy who only talked to me saying he got sent to the psychiatrist hospital because his parents put a camera in his bedroom and he did heroin in front of it to show how much he didn’t care
  • This doctor who held his hand up as to high five me, and when I did he laughed, saying I was supposed to shake his hand. how was-
  • That guy who sometimes slept on the floor until someone picked him up
  • walked in the smokers room, saw this guy receiving a blowjob, walked out of the smokers room
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Got back from Las Vegas the other day - by far the SICKEST holiday I’ve ever been on. It’s like America on crack, people drinking at 8am and dancing on the streets to no music…quality 👌

But seriously, America was brilliant. I can not wait to go back out there, the people are my sort of people.

They were friendly and approachable, and not once did I feel unsafe whilst out there. Not to mean I didn’t have my wits about me but even with all the drugs and stuff out there I didn’t feel threatened one bit

It’s made me want to see a lot more of America, just need to plan a few more destinations meaning picking up a few extra bank shifts!

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In 2015 two Trump supporters stated after beating up a Latino man: “Trump was right—all these illegals need to be deported.”

During a press conference Trump said this shortly thereafter after hearing about the brutal attack:  “I will say, the people that are following me are very passionate. They love this country and they want this country to be great again. They are passionate.”

This man thinks supporters beating someone up is a mark of a good thing.

Trump really is a disgusting “human being”.

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What drives you to do your best?  What motivates you to make it through medical school?

Many people pursue a career in medicine because it is a highly esteemed profession, and because they know, that once they have the ‘Dr’ before their name, they will finally be a ‘somebody’, people will finally notice them and give them the respect that they’ve always wanted.

Medicine is a career full of awards, titles, and competitions. People are always striving to be the best or to win something. 

But here is a newsflash- your award for ‘best medical student’ will not comfort you when your patient dies, nor will it stop you from lashing out when your patient spits in your face at the end of a 12.5 hour shift. 

If you only chase awards and competition, you will never learn to appreciate your current achievements.

Instead, choose to be in constant competition with yourself. Focus on how you can beat the person you were yesterday.

The problem does not lie with the competition or award itself, but rather how important people see them. As if to say that if they do not gain an award of some sort during medical school, they are a worthless student. This is simply not the case.

It is so easy to get caught up with competitions and awards in medical school, but don’t let this distract you from the main reason why you started this journey- to save lives. To make a difference. Let your genuine passion for the profession drive you, because this is what will sustain you when times get hard. 

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Today we had a family refuse hospice care for a family member in a different hospital, demand the family member instead go to a hospice center, the center refused because the patient also refused all types of care, packed her up in an ambulance and dumped her on us to pass away. Just fyi it’s an EMTALA issue at that point.

We then had another patient pass away also in comfort care (code for actively dying) but the RN didn’t document correctly and it ended up looking like the patient passed away due to morphine overdose instead of their underlying issues. DNV is here in a week. That’s kind of like the Hospital inspection cops. Oh joy.

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I forgive myself for bingeing and purging 30 minutes ago. I can choose to move on and start over RIGHT NOW.

Today moving on might mean starting over minute by minute. Hour by hour.

Am I expected to be perfect here on my second week? No. I can relax now. I’m safe. I don’t have to worry about food here.

(ED inpatient: journal entries circa 2015)

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