thegentlegrind

[thegentlegrind]

White Coats and Burnt Souls

One thing that I never thought would be a part of this medical field was toxic culture. Because back then, my 15 year old self couldn't fathom how toxicity can coexist in the same place where healing and caring are due.

Now everyday I see myself and hundreds of other students go through this crumbled system in the hopes of one day escaping but we know-- there's no escape. We become the system.

Our tired hearts need to save enough energy to have tender hands.

A field which stands on the grounds of hierarchical discrimination and gets a kick out of students' and residents' misery is the field that needs the most compassion.

The gentleness it requires to serve yet the iron shield we need to build around our souls is truly astonishing. How am I supposed to do that? Why aren't we being treated as human beings while we are being trained to treat actual human beings?

Apparently my teenage self had a very roses-and-daisies kind of expectation from this profession. But the reality? Far from it. No real friends, no personal space ( because hostel life), no reassurance that tomorrow would be better, deal with such toxic people on a daily basis, being away from home, no matter what you do, you would be never doing enough.

My iron shield is still not built. There are still moments where I stop and take a step back in fear of what I have just experienced. And then I quickly rethink why am I here? Have I made a wrong choice afterall? Is this what i have spent countless sleepless nights for?

But the I have to remind myself that I am already in way too deep to go back now. The only way out is through it.

One day at a time.

[thegentlegrind]

The Beginning of My Gentle Grind

I don’t know if anyone will read this, but I think I need it anyway.

This space is for the slow mornings, the skipped lectures, the tiny wins, the big breakdowns, and everything in between

Med school isn't always glamorous. Sometimes it’s just me, a half-filled notebook, and a deep sigh I haven't released yet. But I want to remember the good too—the chai breaks after study blocks, the soft light on my bed at 5 pm, the way my heart settles when something finally clicks.

This isn’t about hustling harder.

It’s about showing up—gently, imperfectly, honestly.

So here I am. Grinding, softly.