The Loneliness of a PT Student. A New Chapter.

It's been a while.

I spent the past four years, post-undergrad, planning and strategizing a way to get into a career I would love-- physical therapy.

My days of track and field are long behind me, and the mountains I overcame then, seem like small hills to me now. It's strange how life works that way. I look back on old posts and journal entries and I am suddenly back to that place I was; that person I was. Everything appeared so much bigger than me then, and I never believed I truly had the strength or confidence to overcome certain obstacles.

But I managed to do so, and I did it. I am here now. All of the small steps took me the miles I had to cover to get here. The endurance was there-- but I need it back now.

The first semester of physical therapy school was rough. Not only was the material dense and the time constraints tighter than I was ever used to, I was dealing with my own personal questions and changes: Am I smart enough to do this? Can I actually become a good physical therapist? Do I have what it takes?

I think back, and realize these questions were similar to the ones I asked when going through Army ROTC, when going through my undergraduate courses, and when running track. I always wondered what my capabilities and limitations really were and are, and if I was aiming for things too far out of my reach. I suppose, most people would recognize these thoughts as "normal," and I would agree they are right. But somehow, the questions continue to come back and haunt me in different ways in other aspects of my life where I began to feel confident in myself. Is that also normal, I ask.

Well, I ended up surviving my first semester of PT school, even with the death of a loved one-- my grandmother, the woman who helped raise me. She died before my semester ended, and I didn't have much closure except to tell myself, "I can't quit now." I still have to tell myself pretty much every day, "I can't quit now."

I skated by with all B's, and while that is good for most (because B's get degrees right), it still took a hit on my self esteem and the person I thought I was. This image has continued to carry over into my fall semester, and in someways, narrowed my vision of who I am. Then questions of who I am and am I good enough re-emerge.

I admit though, in this short bit of time, I have learned things about myself I didn't expect to learn. I never thought I could learn the anatomy of the human body in just 8 weeks. I didn't think I would understand biomechanics since I struggled with physics. But, I have somehow managed yet again.

The loneliness though creeps in at night, when I'm tired, and it's late, and I am no longer able to focus on studying. It creeps in the way your body screams at you for air when you've been under water for too long. It starts out like a mild twinge, that quickly escalates to panic. I get that feeling sometimes thinking about the life I left behind in New York. The person I was in New York and the person I am now-- am I better? Will I be better? It sets in even more when I realize the people I love and care about are so far out of my reach. Meeting up with a friend to talk over wine or food is impossible here, not because there are no bars or restaurants here, but because those friends are not here. I was accepted somewhere, and now, I find myself trying to start all over. Almost reinventing myself. But why?

That's the loneliness that I speak of.