Friday, October 29, 2010

Man up, bitch.

I think I have PTSD.

Every night, as I lie in bed trying to fall asleep, I get flashes of rended flesh, bone saws, needles, wires and blood. I had dreams about suturing last night. Cardiothoracics is quite confronting, and since I don't have time to process it at work (12-16 hour days this week) my brain has decided to process it at night.

My interactions with the team may also be having an effect. All week I've been stoic, laconic and taken everything on board without whimper or complaint. I've been the perfect dude.

Sure, I can laugh at your jokes about mistresses vs wives.
Yeah, it's weak to admit uncertainty or fear.
Totally, you should dismiss nurses/clerks/women if you don't find them physically attractive.

It's wearing. I feel depleted.

I had my afternoon off yesterday and ended up sniffling in Myer's shoe department. I was looking at all the pretty girls in pretty dresses and realising that they don't feel the need to justify or hide their femininity. They don't over-compensate for their perceived female weakness with an ice-queen demeanour. They're allowed to enjoy being girly without fear of mockery.

I'm going to overcompensate for my current asexual, repressed, verbally-abused state by choosing a slutty Halloween costume. Because that's empowerment?

I can't win.

1 week down, 11 to go.

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