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Back in the day

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I do not get lachrymose so often. Med school taught me to be as gentle as possible, whilst cold enough to not fall apart when someone dies. Still, what people see is not what happens inside my mind. I fight the good fight, the one against bad habits and instincts. Sometimes, I fail miserably. Sometimes, I win myself for another day.

Recently I started to improve my acupuncturist skills at a fast pace, learning new methods once I thought nontangible; trying is part of the good fight that keeps me onward. I even bought a book in Italian that, like a collegian often does, I need to read with the aid of a dictionary. It is hard, it is challenging, but it is uplifting. That is how I cope with my own insanity. I study, I pray, I cry… but nobody else will notice, not because I am shy, which I am, but because I’ve been learning to cry from the inside.

I am not a sad person. I am not exactly happy either. I am a student; that is how I see my journey on this planet. I do hate when I cannot help as much as needed and that upsets the heck of me. I want to do more, but between the will and the practice there is an abysm and every attempt puts some pressure over my shoulders.

A good professional who wants to help as many as possible needs to be accurate, agile. Sometimes I am exactly like that, which makes me genuinely happy, but sometimes I cannot help with neither my hands nor my words. Afflictions that needles cannot give relieve are emotions that once corrupted remain deep impregnated in those suffering from the past. I am attempted to give my absolute best to help them, whilst still feeling that I need to read more, seek more methods, learn more techniques…

Over the past years, this thought has kept me going on a marvellous trajectory. The fact that I might never see again those with whom my old techniques failed is saddening, but that is why I need to be faster on my resolve. I cried when I thought that, despite all my complaints, maybe the wind that moves me is God’s doing. I just hope that one day I might be a better instrument of His will. I guess that I could say that He made beautiful things not only out of dust, but also out of hopes and dreams.

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