Passion…unbridled

I would love to be a masterpiece, but I

Am just a work in progress- I would not lie

I stumble and fumble, forward and backward go

Through roadblocks, sometimes of my making, I forge a path slow..

*

I would love to be near-perfect, to have arrived

At my destination, fueled by ambition and drive

But I hobble and wobble, lose my steam

In the midst of projects, so I never seem

To reach that mythical place in my mind

That lofty pinnacle to conquer which I think I’m destined

*

I am perpetually a work in progress

Forever a part of an overall process

Of improvement, but I do fall short

Of becoming a masterpiece of sorts

*

What if I could change my mindset in such a way

That I feel I am both- a masterpiece and a work in progress any day

Perfect as I am, but with room to grow

Comfortable in my skin, but always eager to know

More ways to live my life more meaningfully

Perhaps a more contented person I could be..

If I could not be productive most days

I would think of myself as a failure in many ways

To get things done, and fast, I have been primed

Throughout my life, so when I do waste time

I feel guilty, because time is what I most lack

After all I search actively for productivity hacks

Sometimes I am too wired to fall asleep, and yet

If I am unproductive, less sleep I get

Because then my conscience continues to nag me

The sin of wasting precious time weighs down on me heavily

*

Is it my inner critic that ammunition finds

To berate me and play tricks with my mind

When I fall short of the lofty goals both of us have set

It loves to make me uncomfortable, make me fret..

*

I do, therefore I am is the dictum by which I seem to live

I feel vulnerable if I am unproductive

But sometimes on an unstoppable sprint am I

Then I feel invincible, I get an indescribable high

*

My highly active self shall age as time goes by

And I shall drop from my productivity high

I hope my inner critic is able to extend me some grace

As I settle into a more relaxed, less productive phase

This is the story of my life every night

I know I should sleep but I continue to fight

All the thoughts racing in my head

My brain does not wind down but speeds up instead

Once I am done with my chores for the day

All sorts of ideas, creative and strategic, come my way

Sometimes I decide to act on them at a later date

But when I try to sleep, my mind retains its stimulated state

At other times, I feel compelled to act immediately

So that I can capture a rare idea accurately

Both scenarios to a similar conclusion lead

I end up getting less sleep than I need..

*

Once I wake up in the morning I get galvanized

In a predictable flurry of activity, before I realize

Where the day has fled by, it is time to go to bed

At that time creative juices start flowing in my head

Why does it not work the other way around?

Why don’t ideas appear in my brain in the morning, so I can get sleep sound!

When did working long hours become

A sign of productivity, a badge of honor for some?

*

Many times, knowingly or unknowingly

We show one-upmanship in being busy

In a not-so-subtle manner we try to convey

That we are important, we cannot idle away

Our time in frivolous pursuits since we work day and night

A ready-made universal excuse it becomes

To avoid social obligations that appear burdensome

*

In public we talk about our long hours with pride

While we yearn for a shorter work day deep inside

Poring over paperwork is not an attractive way to spend

An evening for anyone, no matter what we pretend..

*

I am guilty of telling everyone how busy I am most days

Though I am constantly on the lookout for ways

To reduce my hours spent at work, by being more efficient

To spend time at home every evening is my intent

When I am bored out of my mind

When household chores onerous I find

I sing a song that fond memories evokes

Sometimes I add in a few dance strokes

I do not hum, I sing quite loudly, I confess

I invigorate myself thoroughly in the process..

I do not really possess a singing voice

I may screech trying to vocalize the song of my choice

There is nothing musical about my breaking into song

The lyrics are in my head, and I sing along

My family mostly puts up with me

But for anyone else, annoying it would be

To hear me sing with abandon such

This is not a habit I talk about much..

*

Listening to the same song is not as effective

In elevating my mood, the same pleasure it does not give

Therefore whenever I feel bored, I shall continue

To sing to myself, and encourage you to try it too

I scroll up and down, and scroll some more,

I keep doom-scrolling, I’ve lost score

Of the countless thoughts that have crossed my mind

Not a single one of them is uplifting, I find

I keep sinking deeper into a well of despair

But still scroll mindlessly, unaware

Of the passage of time, yet I cannot will

Myself to stop, I keep consuming content still

When I scroll through news, the sky seems to be falling down

There is nothing positive, just doom and gloom all around

If I check out professional websites it seems

Being fulfilled as a physician is a distant dream..

*

I keep scrolling, the world appears progressively more bleak

It almost appears as if negativity I actively seek

Then I remind myself that the devious algorithms are at play

They dole out content in such a way

That you sink into an echo chamber deep

If you started with negativity, that is the theme you keep

*

So I forcibly get off my device

Doom-scrolling was making me depressed, I realize

My consumption of internet content I have to reduce

Otherwise my well-being I stand to lose

It is depressing to feel the creep

Of old age, all of us want to keep

The vigor of our youth forever

To lose energy and enthusiasm never

There are so many ways to conceal

The signs of age, but time does still steal

Youth away, no matter how much you delude

Yourself into thinking you would not let age intrude

On your spirits and your most cherished beliefs

But they change, so you have to turn over a new leaf..

*

Grey hair, aching muscles, deteriorating memory

Whether you like it or not, shall be featured in your story

You have to accept them, you may not have a choice

But this is the time to find your authentic voice

All this while you’ve been going with the flow

Now it is time to go on a new path, as fast or as slow

As you want, this is your life that you customize

Aging seems to punish you in many ways, let this be your prize

There was a time when I would cry

When I felt overwhelmed, I would lie

In a dark room by myself, tears pouring from each eye

Until they became annoying, and it was time to dry

My eyes- I would get up, wash my face and feel

Lighter, less burdened, and possibly healed..

*

The older I grew the more I internalized

That expressing emotion made you weak, I realized

In order to appear strong and in control

My tears needed to be invisible to every soul

The last thing I mistakenly wanted to convey

Was that I was using tears as ammunition to get my way..

*

So I stopped crying altogether, not even in solitude

Would tears fall from my eyes, I was pleased at my fortitude

I actually felt better about my lack of crying

To appear calm and strong, I seemed to be trying..

*

I did not cry but emotions did not stop flowing

I ended up anxious and frustrated, not knowing

How to process the turmoil deep inside

It manifested in anger when it could no longer hide

Being angry was not good, but at least weak I did not appear

As weak as I would have been perceived had I shed some tears

*

As I kept more emotions bottled up within me

Unfortunately I became increasingly angry

It hurt my relationships, and destroyed me more

Until one day I just broke down, shaken to the core

And realized nothing would work except crying my eyes out

I poured out pent-up emotions, and without doubt

At the end of it my catharsis was complete

I found myself feeling more hopeful and upbeat..

*

The pressure to never cry robs you indeed

Of a vital coping mechanism that you need

Better to shed some tears and move ahead

Than to keep negative emotions bottled in your head

I have never understood why women are

Labeled as talkative, men in my experience by far

Outdo women in talking in every place

Mansplain everything, take up as much space

As they can in every discussion, especially when women are involved

Over thousands of years society has evolved

In such a way that women listen while men speak their minds

Women, if they do the same, often find

Themselves in trouble, they learn to choose

Their words and tone carefully before they let loose

The thoughts in their minds for people to hear

Being judged for their words they fear

Much more than men do, and yet wisecracks abound

On how women talk nonstop in their high-pitched sounds…

*

Yes women talk, to share their lives

Through their connection with others they thrive

Women talk to each other, knowing that men

Are probably too full of their egos to listen..

I read quite voraciously, and read

Books in every genre indeed

From self-help books to literary fiction

From non-fiction to memoirs- but I have a predilection

For anything published in large print these days

I admit, at the risk of being ridiculed by bibliophiles anyway

That sometimes my valuable time I spend

In reading romance novels, I shall not pretend

That romance novels are beneath my standard in books

I do not care that somewhat uncouth I look

Romance novels appear templated and predictable

Full of good looking men and women gullible

But the happily ever after vibe makes me see

The world in a more positive light temporarily

Even in a poorly written plot, love conquers all

Not for the characters, but for the emotions I fall…

*

There are many good books waiting to be read

But I have had a long day, I need to relax before going to bed

Let me pick a romance novel to help leave behind

All the worries of the real world plaguing my mind

Let me join the millions of women all over the world

Who read these novels in solitary pleasure, word by word

Tomorrow I shall pick up a meatier book and regain

My bibliophilic persona once again

There are times when life as a physician

Becomes overwhelming, being in a position

Where decisions that influence life and death are to be made

Takes its toll, through the murky waters you try to wade

Without sinking into the swamp of negativity

You detach yourself to preserve your spirit, your sanity

During such times, you try to delude yourself to believe

That it is just a job in which payment for services you receive

You try to separate your identity from what you do

Thinking this would make work bearable enough to continue…

*

If only you could detach yourself that easily!

Medicine is not just what you practice, but a part of your identity

You flirt with detachment and then come back to your profession

With a renewed vow of loyalty, practicing medicine is an extension

Of who you are, your existence is inexorably intertwined

With what you do, you have to find a solution within those confines…

*

The cloud of despair was temporary, and has been lifted

You return in full swing, grateful that you have been gifted

With the responsibility to make decisions that impact

Life and death, keeping this in mind you must act

So many bodily functions can be quantified

Normal values fall within a range, narrow or wide

The numeric value of a test result is compared

To the reference range to tell you how you have fared..

*

With access to all the results instantly

All patients are now able to see

Their test results compared to normal limits

They get anxious when their values do not fit

Within those golden parameters, they want an explanation

From their health care teams, especially their physicians..

*

It is hard to know where one lies on the spectrum of health and disease

Numbers with reference ranges can be understood with ease

But the human body is a dynamic machine

With processes working simultaneously but remaining unseen

An outlier can be close to the reference range or further away

Both have to be interpreted in very different ways

In either case, interpretation of any test is a skill acquired

After years of training, the health care professional is required

To interpret the overall result of every test

Not by itself, but in a specific disease context..

*

Next time you see a number quite outside

The reference range, don’t get preoccupied

With the number itself, call your physician(s) instead

Let them interpret it for you, don’t let needless anxiety occupy your head..