sometimes it is very hard to get out of the shower
Sometimes it is very hard to get out of bed, like some meta-analogue to my motivation as my substantia nigra of the basal ganglia are to my motor cortex is degenerating. Has degenerated. No fetal stem cells to bring it back.
Sometimes for a minute or a moment it seems like it would be easier to just stay here, under the water, behind the curtain, or under the covers with the shades pulled and the clock turned and the door shut. It seems like I can deal with what’s here.
It’s not quite painfully ironic that the longer I stay where things seem OK, the less OK they will indeed get. The rest of my life will rapidly escalate to situations I am ill-equipped to handle. No, it’s not ironic; it’s just what happens. But that first-hand knowledge is indeed painful.
I know full well that the way out is one step at a time; that if I just keep going eventually I’ll get there; that this too shall bloody well pass. But to pretend that it isn’t hard, that it doesn’t hurt, that there isn’t the fear I won’t be able to do it this time–that’s an insult to everyone who’s ever made it out, including me.
Pharmacy school is hard. So is life.