Independent Woman

She’s a modern-day independent woman in a high-powered job, in a position of power.  Long gone are the days where women suffered unequal rights and oppression.

Her face is cleansed, toned then moisturised and painted with makeup in an attempt to achieve that flawless airbrushed look.  Her eyebrows have been painfully plucked two days ago to achieve that arch-with-an-attitude look.  Hair styled and teased, then sprayed with a generous amount of toxic-chemicals hairspray.

She walks with an air of confidence.  Self-assured, she holds her head high and is unafraid to voice her opinion.  Today she is dressed in an outfit designed by Georgio Armani; a tight pencil-skirt clings to her lower body, stopping above the knee in that ‘sexy-but-professional’ look she’s trying to achieve.  Her blouse is low enough to teasingly reveal a small amount of cleavage, ‘without being slutty’ she thinks.

As she walks through the office and cheerfully greets colleagues she is aware of the lingering appreciative glances of men – she thrives on those.  To know that she is attractive, and wanted boosts her confidence further and she inwardly smiles to herself, her stride becoming a little more confident by the minute.  The men steal discrete glances at her, mentally undressing her.  Her high-flying status fades away in their eyes and she becomes merely eye-candy.

She sits down on her chair and subconsciously clutches the hem of the skirt to pull it downwards, in an attempt to provide more coverage.  Self –consciously, she ensures her legs are placed together in a stiff posture, any wrong movement or crossing of legs may lead to indecent exposure.  She walks across the office to get some coffee, sucking in her stomach until she is safely back at her desk again.  She spends the rest of the day fully aware of her movements.  Through the course of the day quick glances in the mirror are needed to assure her that she still looks appealing, she touches up her make-up in the bathroom a few times and positively notes of yet more appreciate male-glances.

This is our modern-day successful woman.  She struts through life wearing clothes mainly designed by men…in order to please men, and then she gets that confidence boost she needs by knowing that she looks appealing.  She is intelligent and has a sparkling personality, yet she sees less of that and more of what the mirror shows her, and more of how people perceive her.  So fussed and bothered about how people perceive her, she is a slave to the rules of modern-day westernised society.

They say our modern-day women have freedom.

Really??

I say our modern-day women should be more than just eye-candy.

Just do it

I’ve been away for a while….mybad.  ”Where have you been away” I hear you wonder.  Ok well I don’t really hear you wondering that but I like to think I know what you’re thinking because I’m a psych-grad..and I’m weird like that.  Yup.  Moving on swiftly….basically I’ve been doing 14.5 hour shifts at the looney-bin mental health ward.  Multiple 14.5 hour shifts in fact, so many that I can’t feel my eyeballs anymore like the rest of the population can.  (Are you now trying to see if you can feel your eyeballs?  See I told you I could read minds!) 

Oh yes and I haven’t really been paid for any of the long-ass shifts I’m doing so I’m currently on an imaginary strike.  I’ve landed myself a few days of annual leave and now that I have free time after a century, I have no flipping idea what to do with it.  Furthermore during my time at the looney bin mental health ward, I became dependant on caffeine to keep my eyes open while I mentally sleep.  I’m now experiencing caffeine withdrawal…Alas!  I have become a junkie.  (How cool is it that I just used the word ‘Alas’) 

This post isn’t all complete mindless babble of a withdrawing junkie.  I actually have a life-lesson to share with you.  Yeah.  I’ve learnt so far, in my twenty-something years on this planet that the best way to learn things is to be thrown into the deep end and having to just do it.  Yeah, ‘just do it’ like the nike logo.  For example, I thought I’d never learn how to deal with a looney patient who was threatening to kill me and coming at me with wooden chair in hand (he was HUGE) and when I was thrown into that situation, I learnt exactly how to deal with it.  Run.  Obviously.

 

 

 

The cupboard that made me cry

I cried my eyes out inside a cupboard.

I had been scheduled to work 11 days a row, it was finally day 11.  My rota had been nothing less than the mother of all bitches, I had late shifts followed by early shifts left right and centre and it had left my sleep cycle in a psychotic crisis.  My brain had turned into a mushy ball of exhaustion which was being kept alive by a cerebral life-support-machine otherwise known as caffeine.

I had been on close observation with a schizophrenic patient for 4 hours since 7am, this meant I had to follow him around at all times and never let him out of my sight.  The patient had a history of pulmonary disease and seemed to have trouble breathing.  I checked his stats a few times while we waited for the on-call doctor to show up…who seemed to have gone AWOL and was probably having a psychotic crisis of his own.

2 hours passed and my patient started coughing up blood.  There was no staff to take over his observation so I stuck around in my sleep-deprived state and helped him with his food, gave him tissues, did everything I possibly could to keep him comfortable.  He finally settled down in front of the TV and we continued to wait for the doctor.

Then he got up and he threw his blood-covered tissues on me and started yelling abuse.  He tried to strangle me, and then punch me.  Another patient witnessed this and coming to my defence he jumped on him and tried to attack him.  I tried to separate the two.  Deafening panic alarms went off and the place was swarming with mental health staff, meanwhile my patient continued to cough up blood.  After about 30 minutes we managed to take my patient back into his bedroom where the on-call doctor finally examined him.

A nurse asked me if I was ok.  Of course I’m ok I told her.  And then I did something I have never done in my life, I ran into the supplies cupboard and I cried my eyes out.  I had no idea why I was crying so this just made me cry harder.  I cried until my eyes swelled up and refused to open properly.  I cried while I told myself off in my head for being a drama-queen and crying.  I don’t do crying.  Why oh why did I cry?

And then…the ward manager opened the door and discovered me…

She told me the supplies cupboard is the hot spot for crying staff…apparently they all do it in there.

I left the ward that day swearing to quit and wishing September would hurry up so I could start med-school already.  As I walked out of the hospital, I saw a red-eyed junior doctor coming out of the cleaning cupboard sniffing and wiping her face with a tissue.

Oh mental health ward, you stress me out.

Flashbacks

Flashback

3 years old and on holiday in the Middle-East at my grandmother’s place.  She sits on the bed, partially paralyzed from the waist down.  She spends her days teaching children the Quran and spreading religious knowledge.  She’s humble, she’s courageous, she’s brave…she’s the most amazing woman on the planet.  And she can’t walk.  I’m 3 years old and I want her to climb the stairs with me all the way to the roof…I want her to see me flying my kite amongst the clouds.  She can’t walk.  So I stay with her, stay around her bed every waking moment of my day and when I sleep, I fall asleep in her arms.  Everyday after breakfast, I stand by the pillar and try to measure my height, and everyday I am sure that I have grown.  Everyday I tell her that when I grow up, I’ll fix her legs…you’ll see Grandma I tell her, I’ll be the best doctor ever.  She tells me to pursue my dreams and become the brightest star in the sky.

When night falls the stars come alive, the sky becomes a dark blue-black background with twinkling glitter spread all over it.  I spend ages looking up at it, searching for the brightest star in the sky, my Grandma watches me smiling.

Flashback

2009 – 21 years old.  I am invincible.  I’m in the hospital in an acute medical ward for a work experience placement.  I find myself holding a clipboard gazing into the eyes of an elderly man experiencing a slow and painful death.  They say they cannot do anymore, they say he knows he’s dying.  They say, he has no friends and he has no family.  I ask him a stupid question “Are you okay?  Can I get you anything?”  He looks at me and manages a muffled ‘no’ from beneath his oxygen mask, and groans.  His eyes plead with me.  He winces.  I look at his morphine IV, they say he’s on a pretty high dose.  No drug can ever override the pain of having your soul snatched from your body that’s something I learn from the placement.

I walk away from him to see to another patient, and his eyes follow me.  They say he only has a few hours to live.  His eyes keep following me, pleading with me.  I’m helpless, I can’t do anything, and I wish I could.  Do I really want to be a doctor?

After a few minutes I go and sit by his bed and I talk to him.  I talk to him about the weather, and the news.  I talk to him about my day, and he listens to me.  His eyes stay focused on my face and he winces occasionally.  I’m still talking when I realise that he hasn’t blinked in a minute, his eyes are no longer attentive.  I look at his glazed eyes, and I look at the monitor showing a flat line.

Soon afterwards, they confirm his death and send in a few nurses to clean him up and remove the tubes.

I just didn’t want him to die alone.

I am strange.

I usually write about random stuff and post it…and don’t mention much about myself so I’ve decided to ramble on about myself in this post.  NB:  post my lack structure due to sleep-deprived brain and lazy neurons.

It has dawned upon me that I’m somewhat strange.  No seriously.  Somebody asked me the other day what my hobbies were and I opened my mouth to answer…but no sound came out.  You know why?  Because I was perplexed as to what my hobbies were and then my mind wandered off into the realm of ‘what is the definition of a hobby’…

This is what the majority of the rest of the population my age consider to be a successful night out: couple of drinks, nightclub, getting completely drunk, waking up not remembering much from the night before but having a load of funny pictures/evidence all of which can be uploaded onto Facebook.  Here’s my definition of a ‘night out’: good movie with a bunch of friends followed by a late dinner whilst catching up with everybody; followed by home time, which is followed by changing into PJS and curling up with a good book until I become too sleepy to keep my eyes open.   I honestly didn’t think there was anything wrong with it until somebody told me I was boring.  I find me pretty interesting though, if I do say so myself :-p

I think I’m totally rambling in this post…I think all that working in mental health is finally getting to me and I’m finally losing the plot that never existed.  You know what else is strange about me?  Despite being somewhat of a girly-girl (yes I love shopping and all things pink and fluffy) I am totally in love with my xbox and GTA is my favourite game.  I’m basically an undercover gamer who enjoys drawing organic chemistry molecules for fun and gets a buzz out of neuroscience.  I also avoid stepping on cracks sometimes just for fun, girls wearing too much makeup scare me…whenever I see somebody who I suspect is wearing a wig, I have overpowering urges to rip it off their head.

I can’t eat cereal with cold milk…I have to heat it up in the microwave.  Yes I realize it goes all soggy after that but that’s what makes it sooo good.  When people walking in front of me walk at an extremely slow pace…I feel like beating them up.  If they continue to walk extremely slowly…I scream at them…in my head.

…

Thank you come again.

Invisible clothing

Backless and frontless, and then there’s those with plunging necklines.  See-through and some so form fitting that all contours of the body are visible.  Gucci, Prada, and DKNY…the new winter-line is out.  Woolen jumpers with a neckline that reaches the diaphragm and a big hole on the back.  Yeah they’ll keep you warm, of course they will; I say that because you all seem to think so.  I don’t understand, what’s the point?  What’s the point of clothing if you appear nearly naked when wearing it?  Might as well run around naked right…why do you look at me so strangely upon that suggestion?  Isn’t that what half of you doing already?

Females are exploited by society and by men – don’t even try to deny it.  Their garments are designed to show off their bodies to the fullest.  Cleavage hanging out curves showing, skin showing beneath see-through fabrics, naked flesh on display to the maximum.  Brainwashed, they think a passerby’s approving look makes them a better person; they gain a confidence boost when they’re wanted.  Sadly though, half of them don’t even know they’re doing it because they think a woman is just meant to dress that way…women’s clothing just tends to be more figure-hugging and revealing than men’s, it’s a fact.  No there’s no evolutionary or health benefit…possibly more of an evolutionary error…but there you go.

Freebies, that’s what they really are.  Free eye-candy for men (and maybe some women who bend that way) to undress with their eyes and engage in sexual acts in the mind of these perverts who glare.  Oh so you think I sound strange talking about all this?

The thing is…when’s the last time you saw every man out there wearing figure hugging clothes all the time, or clothes that reveal as much skin as they possibly can?  I don’t see men showing off their well-chiseled figures or their six-packs.  I don’t see men conforming to a norm of dressing to impress, or becoming an objectified toy for women to enjoy.  I don’t see men dancing nearly naked in music videos 100% of the time, I get no free eye-candy.  Most men would be ashamed to prance around half naked in front of a bunch of women.  Why doesn’t ‘apply the other way around?

So why are we women doing this?   We dress to impress, and buy the backless and frontless clothes that are readily available to use.  Are skintight jeans comfortable?  Is that why you wear them all the time?  Damn right you have sexy legs, you should show them off.  Wrong.   Some of us don’t even consciously want to show off, but subconsciously that’s the whole point “dress to impress” the new modernized role of a woman.  Ask yourself why the idea of  going out in public with baggy jeans and a baggy huge top not appeal to you?  It appeals to men doesn’t it?  Oh but yours needs to be a little more figure hugging…ah and lets not forget the need for boob-display.  Need I say more?

To add to this…for those of you in hot climates.  Guys wear  baggy shorts and a t-shirt.  Girls wear shorts-that-don’t-even-look-like-shorts-that’s-how-tiny-they-are and a bikini top.  It’s not really that hot, you won’t melt and die if you don’t wear that.  Enough air-circulation can get through the thin fabric of i.e. a baggy t-shirt.  Stop stripping.

Epidemic

It’s running away far too fast, ticking away like a time-bomb.  The earth spinning on its axis faster and faster covertly breaking all speed limits, it’s out of control now, unstoppable.  Do you notice the time going faster?  Running away, running away to the end of time; its final destination.  You see, the world is becoming a blur, colours blending into each other in an enormous palette.  New colours emerge, nameless, confusing.  We tend to pay them no mind because they’re alien…the product of too much evil in a world that wants to run away from what it’s become, and so the blur continues.

Sensory overload, auditory senses are confused now.  The sounds blur into each other until they finally become one sound which produces an overpowering hum.  So overpowering that when paid attention to, it’s unbearable.  Forgotten is the meaning of life, the same meaning that you think you don’t know.  Oh but you knew the meaning very clearly, and as early as childhood.  Forgotten, forgotten are the faces of family and the strong bonds that hold you together.  Broken are those bonds that once existed, disintegration of a powerful solid into a weak liquid and then finally into a gas; electrons, neutrons and protons all over the place.  Confused, and directionless.

You climb the highest mountain only to dive from it after the one thing that makes you weaker, because you think it will buy you power.  Money; because they say money is power…but who are they to know really?  Blindfolded and brainwashed by the media, propaganda and social influences you’ve become zombies.  Spoon-fed dummies, minds in semi-vegetative states.  You say you do no wrong, for you are civilised people.  You don’t kill and you don’t torture.  Yet you stand aside silently and watch innocent people being slaughtered, you say nothing…even if you inwardly disagree…yet you say you do no wrong.

The darkness seeps into our planet, whirling and whirling around the earth as it spins faster on its axis.  Days turn into nights and nights turn into days, cries for help are ignored and the destruction continued.  Ignorance prevails and the darkness seeps into your minds, into your blood vessels…bumping the blackness into your souls.  What a deadly epidemic.