I think this is still going to come across rather scatterbrained, but it's time to discuss it. Context here: https://incels.is/threads/my-parents-got-me-a-christmas-present-with-an-agenda.825877/
A few nights ago, I was given a kind of ultimatum that medical school was the path that I had to take. The hard truth is that my parents are right. With the biological degree that I'm getting, I'm siloed into a very narrow range of continuations: it's basically PhD or med school if I want to make any decent money. A sort of third option is industry work, but I had an internship in pharmaceuticals and disliked it, and found it pretty unethical as well. Grad students are basically slaves who get mistreated by the department, so that's not an option either. With this logic, med school is inexorable.
To paint a picture of what this looks like: I somehow divine enough motivation to finish my last semester of college this spring, then come home and rot as a shut in at my parents for a minimum of 2 years, to study MCAT and get clinical hours. The med school itself is then another 4 years, plus 3 years residency, and then I'd estimate about 5 years of actual work until I break even with the massive loans that I will need to take out. Then suddenly we find ourselves, a 37 year old KHHV, with the best we can hope for being a single mom a few years younger.
To those who might say that would be the outcome anyway, it's pretty established that medical school is de facto suicide for anyone who has hopes of ascension. The book referenced in the contextual thread makes no attempt to hide this fact, saying how you should "talk to your partner long before starting med school" (assumed you have one
), because it's going to be next to impossible to maintain the relationship. I'm someone who could hardly keep attendance to a single laid back club in undergrad (I dropped it after one semester JFL) and also couldn't maintain any real long-term connections (but that wasn't all my fault). Based on that, the writing on the wall is clear to see.
I feel sort of suffocated like when I started having to spend excessive hours per week, in late middle school and early HS, writing English essays. I was afraid of it, I knew it would take my peace, and it did. This is that feeling on steroids. Maybe I can trick myself that I'm 13/14 again, that I'm not staring down the barrel of this lack of progress… but I'm too pragmatic for that
@Tšuudi (as promised)
A few nights ago, I was given a kind of ultimatum that medical school was the path that I had to take. The hard truth is that my parents are right. With the biological degree that I'm getting, I'm siloed into a very narrow range of continuations: it's basically PhD or med school if I want to make any decent money. A sort of third option is industry work, but I had an internship in pharmaceuticals and disliked it, and found it pretty unethical as well. Grad students are basically slaves who get mistreated by the department, so that's not an option either. With this logic, med school is inexorable.
To paint a picture of what this looks like: I somehow divine enough motivation to finish my last semester of college this spring, then come home and rot as a shut in at my parents for a minimum of 2 years, to study MCAT and get clinical hours. The med school itself is then another 4 years, plus 3 years residency, and then I'd estimate about 5 years of actual work until I break even with the massive loans that I will need to take out. Then suddenly we find ourselves, a 37 year old KHHV, with the best we can hope for being a single mom a few years younger.
To those who might say that would be the outcome anyway, it's pretty established that medical school is de facto suicide for anyone who has hopes of ascension. The book referenced in the contextual thread makes no attempt to hide this fact, saying how you should "talk to your partner long before starting med school" (assumed you have one
), because it's going to be next to impossible to maintain the relationship. I'm someone who could hardly keep attendance to a single laid back club in undergrad (I dropped it after one semester JFL) and also couldn't maintain any real long-term connections (but that wasn't all my fault). Based on that, the writing on the wall is clear to see.I feel sort of suffocated like when I started having to spend excessive hours per week, in late middle school and early HS, writing English essays. I was afraid of it, I knew it would take my peace, and it did. This is that feeling on steroids. Maybe I can trick myself that I'm 13/14 again, that I'm not staring down the barrel of this lack of progress… but I'm too pragmatic for that
@Tšuudi (as promised)
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