Tomorrow is my first day.
My very first day.
Of work!
It's no big deal. Just gotta listen to some administrators tell us about hospital policy, learn the computer system, smile for some IDs, get a couple parking permits, become certified so that I can commit people involuntarily for 72 hours. There's no actual patient contact. And I get to wear jeans.
Like I said, no big deal.
So why the hell am I freaking out?
It's not the excited kind of freaking out. Instead of being all giddy about possibly meeting my new best friend or work husband, I am absolutely terrified. I am terrified that my program's going to realize that they shouldn't have taken me. Terrified that everyone will notice how awkward and klutzy I am. Terrified that I'm going to do something heinously wrong, run through the corridors screaming bloody murder, tripping over patient gurneys, all while completely naked. Oh wait, that's just the recurring dream that I keep having.
So yeah, anxieties? I've got a few.
It's like the first day of school all over again. And oh man, high school was not good to me. All the insecurities, all the braces and head gear -- but that's another story. Tomorrow, I meet the other nine psychiatry interns in my class. I meet the other fifty million residents and attendings. I meet my new home for the next three to six years, give or take a fellowship. Tomorrow's the first day of the rest of my life. And I know that phrase is as clichéd as clichés go, and is really some line you'd expect from a Selena Gomez movie, but really. Carpe dium, never say never, just keep believing, and all that other jazz, tomorrow is my first day as an adult. With responsibilities. Holy shit.
Just gotta breathe, smile, and hope that they like me. And pray desperately that they don't notice my knees shaking beneath my skirt. Or my cankles.
Wish me luck and keep your fingers crossed that I don't hyperventilate and pass out in front of the entire intern class. Because that's the kind of thing that would happen to me. And while it would make for a very entertaining blog post, I don't think my psyche could recover from something like that.
Wish me luck and keep your fingers crossed that I don't hyperventilate and pass out in front of the entire intern class. Because that's the kind of thing that would happen to me. And while it would make for a very entertaining blog post, I don't think my psyche could recover from something like that.
