So it’s the end of my trip to las Vegas and I enjoyed it more than I thought I would. My mom was absolutely floored by the grandeur and trust me it is difficult to impress this woman.
But as I make my way back to the village I call home I can’t help but feel miserable. I simply don’t want to go back there. It’s not work itself though there is plenty drama there. It’s life in general. I can’t believe it’s been two years of misery already. The winters from October to June (it’s not summer unless it’s at least 75 outside) are driving me crazy. Then the real heavy snowfall in the middle of those months hamper my ability to make a quick escape. Even without the unpredictable bad weather events, leaving town is a major hassle. They say this is a place “in the middle of everywhere”; I beg to differ. The local regional airport, excuse me “international airport”, is a pain because of the connecting flights and long layovers. And even though it takes longer to drive to the closest “large” airport than it does for a direct flight to reach my choice destinations in the American northeast I often prefer to do that, weather permitting.
It doesn’t help that the general populace of my village has been voted one of the least educated when my activities of interest revolve around healthy debates on international affairs, politics, and social justice. What am I doing here?
Oh yes! Medical school loans are partly responsible. Though I am making headway in my 6 year plan to bring this mortgage sized balance to ZERO I’m failing miserably at personal savings as my travel allowance is way over budget.
WAY OVER BUDGET!
But I need to escape for my sanity. I need to surround myself with like minded people. I need to enjoy activities I enjoy. But of late, I find myself sinking into a deeper abyss upon each return “home” to my village.
I have tried not to whine. Honestly, what is so bad about having a job that pays the bills and from which I can afford to escape time-wise and financially? I have tried to be active locally. But so far, that has boiled down to dining, dining, and dining, and not necessarily at fine restaurants. Obviously that hasn’t been good for my waistline. I have joined a gym and I do sweat it out five days a week but it hasn’t been enough to lift me out of my funk, especially in the frigid winter. Have I said how much I hate the cold? Yet, it’s driven me to try out snowboarding in the spirit of enjoying the now. What am I doing here?
Chin up I say. One more year I say. I signed a three year contract; the least I could do is complete the term. But I don’t know. I’m treading water and not sure how much longer I can stay afloat. Just the other day, on a return to my village from one of my increasing number of trips I detoured to the mall having flown out of a nearby large city. I had had a pleasant weekend true enough. However, while watching the comedy Bridesmaids, what started out as a laugh turned into full blown sobbing. Even on the one and half hour drive back home I couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down my face. I was actually surprised. It was then that I realized I truly was miserable. Miserable! Miserable! Miserable! And it doesn’t help, or does it, that there is another young single physician of colour who is also completely miserable. I could laugh out of madness. I don’t even have the mental space to spare to brood about when I’m going to get married – a question I’m bombarded with by family and their friends. Such a non-issue.
Nor does it help that there is ridiculous drama at work. Unnecessary drama. Inefficient leaders who hold no-one accountable. This must be what it feels like to be involved in small town politics. Not my scene at all.
One more year!
– Written using BlogPress on my iPhone 7/2011, published 1/2013