It was great to see you today.
Traditionally, the Clinical Course reps from first year stay on into the second year. As I mentioned, it has been hard in the past to get first year students on board until well into the semester. We would love for you to stay on as a first year Clinical Course rep if you are interested. We usually have two elected reps and one or two selected reps from each class. If you chose to stay on, we would only pick one other selected rep as opposed to 1-2.
Let me know either way.
-Dr. Moxy
This would mean that Dr. Moxy would get my free labor for a whopping three years, instead of two. On the upside, I might get a stunning recommendation later (or not, who knows, really). Uh! Stop making this difficult, Dr. Moxy! (Oh, and can we have a moment for that first sentence? I'm a combination of flattered and stunned. Who knew that spilling your personal life in an excessive, unattractive way could elicit such remarks?)
UPDATE: I said yes.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Just Another Person On the List of People I Don’t Want to Talk To
It was during another mindless orientation activity when I heard my phone vibrating relentlessly in my purse. A hasty glance at the caller ID revealed nothing of recognition. An hour later, as we were dismissed, I dialed my voicemail and listened half-heartedly while talking to the Clinical Course director, Dr. Moxy, at the same time.
I hope my face didn’t reveal my shock when I heard the voice in the message.
It was the pastor of the church I no longer attend, but where my membership apparently is, calling to “check on” me. This is the first call I’ve gotten in the two months since Rich and I broke up. It’s been three months since we had our last pre-marital counseling session with him, for which the pastor did not show up.
“I had the wrong number,” he explained, “Obviously.”
Obviously? Obviously, he's a bad liar.
“I’ve spoken to Rich already,” he continued in his message. “I just wanted to check on you. You know your membership was read into the church…”
Before I could listen to the entire message, I hung up and directed my full attention back to Dr. Moxy.
As with Rich's gesture of flowers on my birthday, I’m having trouble believing the sincerity of this action. This is, after all, the same pastor who told me that I was “insensitive” and "didn't understand" when I complained in our pre-marital counseling that I was overwhelmed by the steady stream of Rich’s family that would come for 8-9 weeks. He also told me that I was “confrontational” and expected Rich, “a peacemaker,”* to be confrontational too when I brought up the issue of his family’s disrespect towards me. (In comparison, Rich's uncle--a pastor--was horrified when I told him what I was dealing with from their family. He told Rich to put an end to it immediately and offered to get involved personally.)
Although he never told me directly, I know that the pastor had a very real problem with my decision to attend medical school. In trying to pursue my dream, I’m actively challenging the Adventist stereotype of a woman who works in the home and spends her time supporting her husband, the head of the household. Both the pastor and Rich think that a wife should be more of a trophy than a companion.
I find it awfully convenient that a week after Rich sent flowers (to which I did not respond), the pastor miraculously finds my phone number and wants to “check on” me. I also think this pastor is arrogant, selfish, and a poor spiritual leader.
In June, my (actual, licensed) therapist agreed with me.
“I hate pastors who try to counsel people with no psychological training,” my therapist said. “He has no idea what he’s talking about. You’re completely right about every doubt you’re having.”
If I wasn’t so tired from convincing the administration at school this past week that I am playing their games, I might put out the effort to manipulate this pastor too. Then again, there’s the whole me not giving a damn about Rich, his feelings, or anyone on his side thing. “Obviously.”
*Yes, he used these actual words.
I hope my face didn’t reveal my shock when I heard the voice in the message.
It was the pastor of the church I no longer attend, but where my membership apparently is, calling to “check on” me. This is the first call I’ve gotten in the two months since Rich and I broke up. It’s been three months since we had our last pre-marital counseling session with him, for which the pastor did not show up.
“I had the wrong number,” he explained, “Obviously.”
Obviously? Obviously, he's a bad liar.
“I’ve spoken to Rich already,” he continued in his message. “I just wanted to check on you. You know your membership was read into the church…”
Before I could listen to the entire message, I hung up and directed my full attention back to Dr. Moxy.
As with Rich's gesture of flowers on my birthday, I’m having trouble believing the sincerity of this action. This is, after all, the same pastor who told me that I was “insensitive” and "didn't understand" when I complained in our pre-marital counseling that I was overwhelmed by the steady stream of Rich’s family that would come for 8-9 weeks. He also told me that I was “confrontational” and expected Rich, “a peacemaker,”* to be confrontational too when I brought up the issue of his family’s disrespect towards me. (In comparison, Rich's uncle--a pastor--was horrified when I told him what I was dealing with from their family. He told Rich to put an end to it immediately and offered to get involved personally.)
Although he never told me directly, I know that the pastor had a very real problem with my decision to attend medical school. In trying to pursue my dream, I’m actively challenging the Adventist stereotype of a woman who works in the home and spends her time supporting her husband, the head of the household. Both the pastor and Rich think that a wife should be more of a trophy than a companion.
I find it awfully convenient that a week after Rich sent flowers (to which I did not respond), the pastor miraculously finds my phone number and wants to “check on” me. I also think this pastor is arrogant, selfish, and a poor spiritual leader.
In June, my (actual, licensed) therapist agreed with me.
“I hate pastors who try to counsel people with no psychological training,” my therapist said. “He has no idea what he’s talking about. You’re completely right about every doubt you’re having.”
If I wasn’t so tired from convincing the administration at school this past week that I am playing their games, I might put out the effort to manipulate this pastor too. Then again, there’s the whole me not giving a damn about Rich, his feelings, or anyone on his side thing. “Obviously.”
*Yes, he used these actual words.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Another Compelling Reason Not to Read About Ex-Boyfriends
The night after this post, I stayed up all night again—this time, rereading old blog entries from my post-college days when I was dating Navin. When I was dating Rich, I always fought the feeling that he just didn’t love me. This was a doubt I never had with Navin.
Rereading the self-disclosed details about my relationship with Navin, I was incredulous. Did he really used to send me text messages just to say that he loved me? Did he really take me on business trips and then, consider my opinion, before making important decisions about his successful business? Did he really encourage me to follow my dream of going to medical school?
After being in such a difficult relationship with Rich for two years, I couldn’t believe that someone (i.e. Navin) had once lavished me with such demonstrations of his love—and that I had ended that relationship waiting for someone better. Someone Adventist.
Once again, sleep eluded me--this time because I was plagued by the concern that I made the worst mistake of my life by breaking up with Navin four years ago.
In retrospect, my issues with Navin were minor and workable. But, I was so young. I thought that I had plenty of opportunities for relationships with other men who would be the same religion, or whose parents would love me the way Navin’s didn’t.
At brunch a month ago, Navin told me that his current girlfriend—a white, DC lawyer—had invited herself to his parents’ house and he woke up one morning to his girlfriend and his mother having it out in the kitchen. Before he told me more, I knew that if his parents kind of didn’t like me (because I wasn’t North Indian or Hindu), they must have hated her.
“It was like a cat fight,” he laughed. “I loved it!”
I wondered, at that moment, if I lacked the assertiveness I should have possessed to stand up to Navin’s and Rich’s parents. Am I the cause of these failed relationships, because I lack the ability to whip the men I date into line, at the expense of their families? Especially because of how my parents’ relationship ended, I never wanted that type of strain in my marriage. I didn’t want to have arguments over stupid things with anyone, especially my in-laws. As long as they were the family of the man I loved, I wanted them to be my family too. I wanted them to love me. It has never been my intention to take any man away from his family, but maybe that’s my problem.
With Rich’s family, they couldn’t deny that I was the epitome of a perfect Adventist woman. I’m smart, pretty, and I worked for the church for six years before choosing from the multiple medical schools where I had been accepted. They couldn’t fault my personal attributes and professional accomplishments, so they attacked issues I had no control over. They said they didn’t want their son/nephew/cousin marrying someone who might have “father issues.” They accused me of having dating multiple men, because of the three month (phone only) friendship that I had with Rich’s cousin in Chicago, a year and a half before I met Rich. They put down my mother’s family—calling us poor and deeming us to not be “close,” as they claimed they are.
I didn’t stand up for myself in any of these situations, but I also didn’t walk away from Rich, the way I had with Navin. Rich’s Adventism was his saving grace and no matter how bad things got, I stayed with him thinking that being treated badly and having my self-esteem demolished was a sacrifice I had to make to make God—and the rest of the Adventist community—happy.*
Now, I wonder what would have happened if I had fought harder for my relationship with Navin. (I don’t ask myself this question about Rich, because I tried as hard as I possibly could.) I know that Navin loved me and that for at least a year after we broke up, that he was still hoping for reconciliation.
“We’re never going to find anyone else in the world like each other,” he would tell me.
I never believed that statement until now—when he is about to move in with his girlfriend, the lawyer who yells at his mother because she wants to marry him.
*This is another blog post altogether.
UPDATE: I need to stop reading my old writing late at night, especially when I'm emotional. It's easy to fall in love with the memories of another person and another relationship when life is hard. My relationship with Navin ended for many important reasons (which are best discussed in another blog post, perhaps).
Rereading the self-disclosed details about my relationship with Navin, I was incredulous. Did he really used to send me text messages just to say that he loved me? Did he really take me on business trips and then, consider my opinion, before making important decisions about his successful business? Did he really encourage me to follow my dream of going to medical school?
After being in such a difficult relationship with Rich for two years, I couldn’t believe that someone (i.e. Navin) had once lavished me with such demonstrations of his love—and that I had ended that relationship waiting for someone better. Someone Adventist.
Once again, sleep eluded me--this time because I was plagued by the concern that I made the worst mistake of my life by breaking up with Navin four years ago.
In retrospect, my issues with Navin were minor and workable. But, I was so young. I thought that I had plenty of opportunities for relationships with other men who would be the same religion, or whose parents would love me the way Navin’s didn’t.
At brunch a month ago, Navin told me that his current girlfriend—a white, DC lawyer—had invited herself to his parents’ house and he woke up one morning to his girlfriend and his mother having it out in the kitchen. Before he told me more, I knew that if his parents kind of didn’t like me (because I wasn’t North Indian or Hindu), they must have hated her.
“It was like a cat fight,” he laughed. “I loved it!”
I wondered, at that moment, if I lacked the assertiveness I should have possessed to stand up to Navin’s and Rich’s parents. Am I the cause of these failed relationships, because I lack the ability to whip the men I date into line, at the expense of their families? Especially because of how my parents’ relationship ended, I never wanted that type of strain in my marriage. I didn’t want to have arguments over stupid things with anyone, especially my in-laws. As long as they were the family of the man I loved, I wanted them to be my family too. I wanted them to love me. It has never been my intention to take any man away from his family, but maybe that’s my problem.
With Rich’s family, they couldn’t deny that I was the epitome of a perfect Adventist woman. I’m smart, pretty, and I worked for the church for six years before choosing from the multiple medical schools where I had been accepted. They couldn’t fault my personal attributes and professional accomplishments, so they attacked issues I had no control over. They said they didn’t want their son/nephew/cousin marrying someone who might have “father issues.” They accused me of having dating multiple men, because of the three month (phone only) friendship that I had with Rich’s cousin in Chicago, a year and a half before I met Rich. They put down my mother’s family—calling us poor and deeming us to not be “close,” as they claimed they are.
I didn’t stand up for myself in any of these situations, but I also didn’t walk away from Rich, the way I had with Navin. Rich’s Adventism was his saving grace and no matter how bad things got, I stayed with him thinking that being treated badly and having my self-esteem demolished was a sacrifice I had to make to make God—and the rest of the Adventist community—happy.*
Now, I wonder what would have happened if I had fought harder for my relationship with Navin. (I don’t ask myself this question about Rich, because I tried as hard as I possibly could.) I know that Navin loved me and that for at least a year after we broke up, that he was still hoping for reconciliation.
“We’re never going to find anyone else in the world like each other,” he would tell me.
I never believed that statement until now—when he is about to move in with his girlfriend, the lawyer who yells at his mother because she wants to marry him.
*This is another blog post altogether.
UPDATE: I need to stop reading my old writing late at night, especially when I'm emotional. It's easy to fall in love with the memories of another person and another relationship when life is hard. My relationship with Navin ended for many important reasons (which are best discussed in another blog post, perhaps).
So, He Sent Flowers
I wasn’t sure if I would regret the decision, but it had been a hasty one. As I rounded the corner into my building’s mailroom, pajama clad at almost midnight, I saw the gold key dangling expectantly from my mailbox. I had a package. I presumed it was from him.
We hadn’t spoken since the end of June—after the night when he decided that we would no longer be married in August and the uncomfortable event of moving my things out of his condo, which occurred two days later. When I opened the card, accompanying the flowers, it read,
“Happy Birthday! Best wishes for a new medical school year. Love, Rich”
When you’ve spent so much time convincing yourself that he is the worst possible human being, how do you respond to a gesture of kindness that might actually be genuine?
You don’t. Or at least, I haven’t.
Partly because I still don’t believe that his action stemmed from anything more than a reminder from his Outlook calendar and partly because he played so many mind games with me, I can’t bring myself to open the door of communication by responding to him. Besides, my self-esteem is still recovering from his hurtful and judgmental accusations. For all that he had to say about me coming from a “broken home” (because my parents are divorced), being “poor” (because my family is from Calder, St. Vincent), or not being “strong enough” (because I saw a therapist in college for clinical depression), why does he want to communicate now?
Other people (uncles, etc.) in the family have urged me to try and resolve the bad blood that now exists between the two families. Unfortunately, I don’t feel that their interpersonal relationships with each other are my responsibility to mend or that the role of reconciliation between the families should fall to me.
Rich should be congratulating himself on getting rid of a girl like me. Personally, I’ve been congratulating myself on getting over of a guy like him.
We hadn’t spoken since the end of June—after the night when he decided that we would no longer be married in August and the uncomfortable event of moving my things out of his condo, which occurred two days later. When I opened the card, accompanying the flowers, it read,
“Happy Birthday! Best wishes for a new medical school year. Love, Rich”
When you’ve spent so much time convincing yourself that he is the worst possible human being, how do you respond to a gesture of kindness that might actually be genuine?
You don’t. Or at least, I haven’t.
Partly because I still don’t believe that his action stemmed from anything more than a reminder from his Outlook calendar and partly because he played so many mind games with me, I can’t bring myself to open the door of communication by responding to him. Besides, my self-esteem is still recovering from his hurtful and judgmental accusations. For all that he had to say about me coming from a “broken home” (because my parents are divorced), being “poor” (because my family is from Calder, St. Vincent), or not being “strong enough” (because I saw a therapist in college for clinical depression), why does he want to communicate now?
Other people (uncles, etc.) in the family have urged me to try and resolve the bad blood that now exists between the two families. Unfortunately, I don’t feel that their interpersonal relationships with each other are my responsibility to mend or that the role of reconciliation between the families should fall to me.
Rich should be congratulating himself on getting rid of a girl like me. Personally, I’ve been congratulating myself on getting over of a guy like him.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Flattery Will Get You Nowhere
I found a blog today in which the author mentioned my name in the first sentence of her commentary, before quoting an article VERBATIM that I authored for Women of Spirit magazine last fall. I sent her an email, notifying her that she needed to credit me properly to avoid copyright infringement, but what can a medical student-writer actually do in this situation?
If she chooses not to credit me or to remove the blog, am I going to hire a lawyer to do something about it? Of course not. I don't have the money or time to worry about it.
And...cue the memories of why being a writer was so frustrating.
If she chooses not to credit me or to remove the blog, am I going to hire a lawyer to do something about it? Of course not. I don't have the money or time to worry about it.
And...cue the memories of why being a writer was so frustrating.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
The One About Not Getting Married
I had just pulled one of my favorite pictures of us from a frame that I had stashed in my top night table drawer. I rolled my eyes in disgust before tearing the picture to pieces and throwing it away.
I have never, ever thrown pictures away—believing them to be important records of the past, with its inherent good and bad memories. In this particular case, though, the anger was so overwhelming that I knew I would have no regrets.
When I saw this year’s Valentine’s day card on the table next to my dresser a few minutes later, I reached for it with the same malicious intent. I opened it quickly and noticed his writing.
“I can’t wait to be married to you!,” he had written, before signing it with love.
Before I could control them, unexpected tears were streaming down my face. I gently placed the card in the same night table drawer. I was suddenly overwhelmed and unable to continue cleaning up my room or my life. That night, I lay wide awake with cold, tear-soaked hair pressed uncomfortably against my face. I cried, alone and uncomforted, until 5 a.m.
My therapist told me a month ago that eventually, I would stop being angry and start to really grieve this situation. I guess he was right.
I have never, ever thrown pictures away—believing them to be important records of the past, with its inherent good and bad memories. In this particular case, though, the anger was so overwhelming that I knew I would have no regrets.
When I saw this year’s Valentine’s day card on the table next to my dresser a few minutes later, I reached for it with the same malicious intent. I opened it quickly and noticed his writing.
“I can’t wait to be married to you!,” he had written, before signing it with love.
Before I could control them, unexpected tears were streaming down my face. I gently placed the card in the same night table drawer. I was suddenly overwhelmed and unable to continue cleaning up my room or my life. That night, I lay wide awake with cold, tear-soaked hair pressed uncomfortably against my face. I cried, alone and uncomforted, until 5 a.m.
My therapist told me a month ago that eventually, I would stop being angry and start to really grieve this situation. I guess he was right.
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