It's official. I ended things with Make-Up/Break-Up almost exactly one year ago. I have been single for a year--the longest stretch of singledom I've had in nearly ten years.
So what is the State of the Disunion currently?
My fellow SFS's. I stand here today as a Single Female Surgeon who is proud of her personal triumphs and failures over the past one year.
I am proud of the fact that I chose my personal happiness over someone who wanted to stifle it, that I chose to punish infidelity instead of accept it. That I made a career choice that has led to incredible professional and personal experiences and flourishing lifetime friendships and colleagues. I am pleased that the career choice led me to a Time Zone and a city that I love--to the point that I wonder what the hell took me so long to get here, and why in the past I ever doubted my choice to come.
I am proud that last weekend, I found out that Make-Up/Break-Up has a girlfriend, and I finally cut him out of my life completely. That five dollars per month of AT&T call and text blocking is the best money I have spent in a long time. No more ambushes--after all, what is he doing calling/texting when he has a girlfriend anyways?
As part of the personal failures...I am not proud that it took me a year to finally do this.
My fellow SFS's, there is still much work that lies ahead. I want to enjoy solitude without feeling lonely. I want to continue to expand my adventurous side without breaking the budget. I want to break down the trade barriers around my heart and get over my fear of getting hurt.
But overall, the State of the Disunion is this: I am proud to be managing my life and happiness as an independent woman, while still believing that he's out there somewhere.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
The Flood
As a gal who has grown up in houses in the Central Time Zone, this apartment living thing is a bit new. My place is perched high up in a high rise building. A bit impersonal at times, but nothing beats the view.
About a month ago, there was a flood in my apartment. My kitchen to be exact. Sewage water in the cabinets, pots and pans, dishwasher, dishes, etc. It was a bit traumatic to come home and find some of the (actually very, very nice and helpful) building maintenance men working to stem a tide of dirty dishwater.
After a long night of loud roto-rootering, the problem was fixed, and the flood was resolved. What was not resolved, however, was the mess of my kitchenwares.
I do like to cook. Nothing too fancy--I'm definitely a "follow-the-recipe-with-few-modifications-mainly-pertaining-to-what-I-have-in-my-cabinets/refrigerator-at-the-time" kind of cook. Simple things that are tasty and filling and don't require a lot of time, but will make enough quantity for at least a week of late suppers after a long day at work. If the recipe requires a slow cooker that will work while I sleep, even better.
In keeping with my rather weak cooking skills, I have an odd mishmash of kitchenwares. Most of the items were donated by my mother (an amazing cook) when I started med school. I have pots and pans that I've owned for ten years, but in actuality have been in the family name for closer to thirty.
While most of these items have probably been at retirement age for at least the last five years, I haven't replaced them, and instead, carried them with me across the country to fellowship.
What was I waiting for?
Well, it took a flood for me to realize it: I'm sad to say that I think I've been waiting to get married. I think I hoped that I'd restock the kitchen with things picked out by me and this fictional fiance on our registry. That my real kitchen would happen when I started my "real life."
But wait. This IS my real life. I may be single, but it's still a life. I have parties, I have friends and co-fellows over for dinner, I'll even occasionally cook something more complex than my staple comfort (easy) foods. So why am I waiting?
I decided to stop waiting and start living. I have been single for nearly a year--the longest time I have been single in nearly a decade. If I have learned anything this year, it's how to be independent. I mean, I've always been pretty independent ideologically, professionally, and financially. However, this year, I have learned how to be comfortable as "just one."
So, I did a little shopping around. I picked out some new pots and pans, dishes, and cookware. Then, I happily christened them with some slightly complex cooking...just for me.
About a month ago, there was a flood in my apartment. My kitchen to be exact. Sewage water in the cabinets, pots and pans, dishwasher, dishes, etc. It was a bit traumatic to come home and find some of the (actually very, very nice and helpful) building maintenance men working to stem a tide of dirty dishwater.
After a long night of loud roto-rootering, the problem was fixed, and the flood was resolved. What was not resolved, however, was the mess of my kitchenwares.
I do like to cook. Nothing too fancy--I'm definitely a "follow-the-recipe-with-few-modifications-mainly-pertaining-to-what-I-have-in-my-cabinets/refrigerator-at-the-time" kind of cook. Simple things that are tasty and filling and don't require a lot of time, but will make enough quantity for at least a week of late suppers after a long day at work. If the recipe requires a slow cooker that will work while I sleep, even better.
In keeping with my rather weak cooking skills, I have an odd mishmash of kitchenwares. Most of the items were donated by my mother (an amazing cook) when I started med school. I have pots and pans that I've owned for ten years, but in actuality have been in the family name for closer to thirty.
While most of these items have probably been at retirement age for at least the last five years, I haven't replaced them, and instead, carried them with me across the country to fellowship.
What was I waiting for?
Well, it took a flood for me to realize it: I'm sad to say that I think I've been waiting to get married. I think I hoped that I'd restock the kitchen with things picked out by me and this fictional fiance on our registry. That my real kitchen would happen when I started my "real life."
But wait. This IS my real life. I may be single, but it's still a life. I have parties, I have friends and co-fellows over for dinner, I'll even occasionally cook something more complex than my staple comfort (easy) foods. So why am I waiting?
I decided to stop waiting and start living. I have been single for nearly a year--the longest time I have been single in nearly a decade. If I have learned anything this year, it's how to be independent. I mean, I've always been pretty independent ideologically, professionally, and financially. However, this year, I have learned how to be comfortable as "just one."
So, I did a little shopping around. I picked out some new pots and pans, dishes, and cookware. Then, I happily christened them with some slightly complex cooking...just for me.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Happy New Year!
Happy New Year, my dear Single Female Surgeons!
Well, I can't believe that this is already the one year anniversary of sex and the scalpel. It's been a wild ride, a rollercoaster of ups and downs, and I can't thank you enough for your insight and readership throughout this year.
I started this blog because of a major shift in my thought process about balance in my career and life. I guess I always assumed that I was good at doing the balancing act--doing well at work, working out, friends, family, fun--in no particular order. After falling in love with Make-Up/Break-Up, and the ensuing break-up that resulted due to my career choices, I realized that maybe all wasn't perfect in my perfect little world. That maybe I really didn't have it all.
In some ways, it was painfully apparent to me last night. As I got dolled up for a night on the town with friends--most of whom are in a relationship--I realized that in fact, I really dislike New Year's Eve. It's the one day of the year that I actually feel bad about being single, and worry that maybe all of the good things currently in my life aren't enough. Sure, I could find someone random to kiss at midnight, but I've reached that point in life where I'm greedy. The random hookup simply will not suffice. I want more, and deserve more. As I headed home last night, the entire subway was a veritable Noah's Ark--two by two. Until I find that person crazy enough to travel through life with me, who enhances instead of detracts from the whole career/life balancing act thing, I'm okay with going it alone.
Though I'm one year older, I can't say that I'm all the wiser, but someday, through this blog and the wonderful conversations with SFS's and those outside of medicine, I hope to be able to gain some insight into this maze that seems to only get more complex as each day goes by.
In the meanwhile, I'm going to sit down with some Gatorade for my hangover, think a bit, write some resolutions, and then get ready for my date tonight.
Happy New Year, dear SFS's! May all your dreams come true in 2011!
Well, I can't believe that this is already the one year anniversary of sex and the scalpel. It's been a wild ride, a rollercoaster of ups and downs, and I can't thank you enough for your insight and readership throughout this year.
I started this blog because of a major shift in my thought process about balance in my career and life. I guess I always assumed that I was good at doing the balancing act--doing well at work, working out, friends, family, fun--in no particular order. After falling in love with Make-Up/Break-Up, and the ensuing break-up that resulted due to my career choices, I realized that maybe all wasn't perfect in my perfect little world. That maybe I really didn't have it all.
In some ways, it was painfully apparent to me last night. As I got dolled up for a night on the town with friends--most of whom are in a relationship--I realized that in fact, I really dislike New Year's Eve. It's the one day of the year that I actually feel bad about being single, and worry that maybe all of the good things currently in my life aren't enough. Sure, I could find someone random to kiss at midnight, but I've reached that point in life where I'm greedy. The random hookup simply will not suffice. I want more, and deserve more. As I headed home last night, the entire subway was a veritable Noah's Ark--two by two. Until I find that person crazy enough to travel through life with me, who enhances instead of detracts from the whole career/life balancing act thing, I'm okay with going it alone.
Though I'm one year older, I can't say that I'm all the wiser, but someday, through this blog and the wonderful conversations with SFS's and those outside of medicine, I hope to be able to gain some insight into this maze that seems to only get more complex as each day goes by.
In the meanwhile, I'm going to sit down with some Gatorade for my hangover, think a bit, write some resolutions, and then get ready for my date tonight.
Happy New Year, dear SFS's! May all your dreams come true in 2011!
Monday, December 27, 2010
Active Surveillance Officially Over?
The other night, I was heading down the elevator when I ran into one of the members of the Brain Trust:
"Are you going on another date? How do you psych yourself up for all of these dates?"
I giggled. I'm not sure what gave me away. Was it the sparkly pink, supershiny lipgloss I usually reserve for raucous nights out? Perfume? The fact that I was actually wearing makeup?
So, yes ladies. Active surveillance is officially over for now. After a two month hiatus from dating, I decided to come out of hibernation and to see if there was anything worth checking out. And yeah, sometimes it is hard to psych myself up for a date, because in a lot of ways, it's like trying to get excited about yet another job interview. But each time I hear that little voice whispering "Dating is drudgery, wouldn't you rather just hang out with your friends?" I try to ignore it and carry on. I simply can't lose faith in love.
Well, I went to a ski club happy hour, a college alumni holiday party, and did my usual Tuesday night chill-out and knit with the girls. It was great to meet some new people and as a result of these adventures, three dates emerged.
The first was a bust from the start. He knew it, I knew it, we proceeded, we were proven correct. The second and third have some potential. The second was a lovely fix-up with the friend of a friend's S.O., and the third...well, it's gotta mean something if a guy walks through a blizzard to take you to dinner. More to come...
"Are you going on another date? How do you psych yourself up for all of these dates?"
I giggled. I'm not sure what gave me away. Was it the sparkly pink, supershiny lipgloss I usually reserve for raucous nights out? Perfume? The fact that I was actually wearing makeup?
So, yes ladies. Active surveillance is officially over for now. After a two month hiatus from dating, I decided to come out of hibernation and to see if there was anything worth checking out. And yeah, sometimes it is hard to psych myself up for a date, because in a lot of ways, it's like trying to get excited about yet another job interview. But each time I hear that little voice whispering "Dating is drudgery, wouldn't you rather just hang out with your friends?" I try to ignore it and carry on. I simply can't lose faith in love.
Well, I went to a ski club happy hour, a college alumni holiday party, and did my usual Tuesday night chill-out and knit with the girls. It was great to meet some new people and as a result of these adventures, three dates emerged.
The first was a bust from the start. He knew it, I knew it, we proceeded, we were proven correct. The second and third have some potential. The second was a lovely fix-up with the friend of a friend's S.O., and the third...well, it's gotta mean something if a guy walks through a blizzard to take you to dinner. More to come...
Monday, December 20, 2010
Strength and Flexibility
I was at my kick ass yoga class tonight (literally, this class is a killer, but oh so good for the weary back), and the instructor always opens with a parable about what yoga can do for us. Now, this isn't some new-agey, crunchy granola blog post, but the theme tonight resonated with me.
Our instructor talked about how yoga isn't just about becoming more flexible, but that it was also about building strength and musculature. Taking it further, he talked about how the best way to deal with everything in life--the good, the bad, the ugly--is all about being strong, while being flexible at the same time.
It may seem like strength and flexibility are two opposing forces--after all, shouldn't something strong be rigid and unyielding?
I don't know if it's the lousy sudden winter weather, but lately, I've been feeling a bit down about being a woman in my field. I went to our society's meeting a couple weeks ago, and was surrounded by a sea of male colleagues. As I watched the blatant schmoozing, I wondered briefly about the sanity of my choices (heck, I'm sure every woman in a male-dominated field does every now and then). As you know from previous blog posts, I've been doing a lot of thinking about what I want my professional life to look like once I'm done with this endless training, and the whole strength and flexibility aspect really comes into play.
As a woman in a male-dominated field, we have to be strong enough to accept that, even if it seems like it at times, we're never going to be one of the guys. However, we also have a unique opportunity to enjoy the flexibility to think about things from a different perspective, and do things our own way. Even in the way we interact on a daily basis, I think we ladies have to be very strong internally to be flexible enough to survive in the world we live and work in.
My yoga instructor said tonight that we can't be flexible if we aren't strong. We each have to build our core to be flexible enough to make our way through this maze.
Our instructor talked about how yoga isn't just about becoming more flexible, but that it was also about building strength and musculature. Taking it further, he talked about how the best way to deal with everything in life--the good, the bad, the ugly--is all about being strong, while being flexible at the same time.
It may seem like strength and flexibility are two opposing forces--after all, shouldn't something strong be rigid and unyielding?
I don't know if it's the lousy sudden winter weather, but lately, I've been feeling a bit down about being a woman in my field. I went to our society's meeting a couple weeks ago, and was surrounded by a sea of male colleagues. As I watched the blatant schmoozing, I wondered briefly about the sanity of my choices (heck, I'm sure every woman in a male-dominated field does every now and then). As you know from previous blog posts, I've been doing a lot of thinking about what I want my professional life to look like once I'm done with this endless training, and the whole strength and flexibility aspect really comes into play.
As a woman in a male-dominated field, we have to be strong enough to accept that, even if it seems like it at times, we're never going to be one of the guys. However, we also have a unique opportunity to enjoy the flexibility to think about things from a different perspective, and do things our own way. Even in the way we interact on a daily basis, I think we ladies have to be very strong internally to be flexible enough to survive in the world we live and work in.
My yoga instructor said tonight that we can't be flexible if we aren't strong. We each have to build our core to be flexible enough to make our way through this maze.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Research
I have received some gentle feedback regarding the fact that I haven't posted in awhile (ahem, sorry Brain Trust). Well, besides the fact that I've been on active surveillance recently, things have been heating up with my research. I've been spending a lot of quality time in the lab learning about cell lines, how to manage them, and new definitions of sterile technique.
When I started my research year, I decided that it would be about expanding my mind in as many ways as possible--professionally and personally. Professionally, that means diving head first into the deep end of the pool of basic science research with nary a life vest in sight. What I've learned thus far, is that it's actually a lot like learning to operate.
There's a myriad of terminology to learn, and an alphabet soup of acronyms to go along with it. There's a whole new set of equipment to play with (I'm doing my best to not blow up a centrifuge by unbalancing it). And best of all, there's a great new group of people to learn from and collaborate with. It reminds me a lot of being a third year med student and learning the ropes of the OR. There's some gentle ribbing and chiding, but ultimately, a lot of truly generous hands-on and on-the-fly learning.
It's fun to be part of a creative process. Each day I try out one thing a few times, if it doesn't work, I troubleshoot it, or ask the deepest question of science..."why?"
The one big difference between the OR SFS and the lab SFS is that I realize I'm impatient.
The OR is all about instant gratification--see the tumor, cut it out, on-the-spot results. I spent all week growing up some cells, and then all yesterday afternoon performing an assay, hoping it would work, and after running it on the flow cytometer today, I found out it didn't. My initial excitement at doing the experiment was mildly dampened when I realized it was going to take another week before I could try this again.
But...when the stuff does work, and there are results, it's one of the most amazing feelings. All I want to do is proudly post that hard-earned graph on my refrigerator and say, "I did that."
When I started my research year, I decided that it would be about expanding my mind in as many ways as possible--professionally and personally. Professionally, that means diving head first into the deep end of the pool of basic science research with nary a life vest in sight. What I've learned thus far, is that it's actually a lot like learning to operate.
There's a myriad of terminology to learn, and an alphabet soup of acronyms to go along with it. There's a whole new set of equipment to play with (I'm doing my best to not blow up a centrifuge by unbalancing it). And best of all, there's a great new group of people to learn from and collaborate with. It reminds me a lot of being a third year med student and learning the ropes of the OR. There's some gentle ribbing and chiding, but ultimately, a lot of truly generous hands-on and on-the-fly learning.
It's fun to be part of a creative process. Each day I try out one thing a few times, if it doesn't work, I troubleshoot it, or ask the deepest question of science..."why?"
The one big difference between the OR SFS and the lab SFS is that I realize I'm impatient.
The OR is all about instant gratification--see the tumor, cut it out, on-the-spot results. I spent all week growing up some cells, and then all yesterday afternoon performing an assay, hoping it would work, and after running it on the flow cytometer today, I found out it didn't. My initial excitement at doing the experiment was mildly dampened when I realized it was going to take another week before I could try this again.
But...when the stuff does work, and there are results, it's one of the most amazing feelings. All I want to do is proudly post that hard-earned graph on my refrigerator and say, "I did that."
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Bond...James Bond
Last night, I went out with a couple of Brain Trust gentlemen and one of their better halves. After a long day (and a Saturday at that) of "Communication Skills" training, we decided that drinks were in order. We headed to a very interesting bar that was part Chuck Bass and mostly James Bond.
As befitting for a bar which a tuxedo-ed Daniel Craig would frequent, I ordered a scotch on the rocks and the Better Half ordered a similar scotch drink. The Brain Trust gentlemen...much to their chagrin...ordered some mixed drinks which arrived in girlie glasses.
As the Better Half and I looked at the mixology on our end of the table, and discussed my recent spate of weak dates, we wondered...where have all of the manly men gone?
I recently went out with Older Guy again--despite the fact that he asked me out, he hemmed and hawed about the time, the date, the activity. I also recently went out with a guy I met a couple months ago and haven't introduced to the blog yet. I thought he had potential, but then realized that in actuality, he was the girl and I was the guy in every interaction we had--talking, making plans, past relationships. Just telling him what I did for a living led to an immediate, "You're intimidating." Eek!
So gentlemen, here is a blueprint on "How to Not Be a Girlie-Man When Dating a Single Female Surgeon:"
1. Advance planning is necessary--especially if you're going to take up Single Female Surgeon's Saturday night slot. Texting the day of the date with plans is weak, Girlie-Man behavior, and I likely have made other plans already.
2. When the date plan is made, incessant calling/paging/texting/emailing/Facebooking/Twittering/etc on the day of the date to confirm plans is not necessary. This screams Girlie-Man insecurity and we will run like Bond being pursued by Russians in the Siberian wasteland.
3. We don't want to hear about your many ex'es. There is zero-tolerance for crying on a date.
4. Frozen drinks are for children. Please order your drink on the rocks, or shaken (not stirred).
5. Appropriate, tasteful dress for the venue is required. For suggestions on attire, review Casino Royale.
6. Never, ever, ever tell a Single Female Surgeon she is intimidating. This is the girliest of Girlie-Men moves. You may think it, but saying it out loud results in her having license to kill the relationship.
The conclusion? There is only one man for me. His name is Bond...James Bond.
As befitting for a bar which a tuxedo-ed Daniel Craig would frequent, I ordered a scotch on the rocks and the Better Half ordered a similar scotch drink. The Brain Trust gentlemen...much to their chagrin...ordered some mixed drinks which arrived in girlie glasses.
As the Better Half and I looked at the mixology on our end of the table, and discussed my recent spate of weak dates, we wondered...where have all of the manly men gone?
I recently went out with Older Guy again--despite the fact that he asked me out, he hemmed and hawed about the time, the date, the activity. I also recently went out with a guy I met a couple months ago and haven't introduced to the blog yet. I thought he had potential, but then realized that in actuality, he was the girl and I was the guy in every interaction we had--talking, making plans, past relationships. Just telling him what I did for a living led to an immediate, "You're intimidating." Eek!
So gentlemen, here is a blueprint on "How to Not Be a Girlie-Man When Dating a Single Female Surgeon:"
1. Advance planning is necessary--especially if you're going to take up Single Female Surgeon's Saturday night slot. Texting the day of the date with plans is weak, Girlie-Man behavior, and I likely have made other plans already.
2. When the date plan is made, incessant calling/paging/texting/emailing/Facebooking/Twittering/etc on the day of the date to confirm plans is not necessary. This screams Girlie-Man insecurity and we will run like Bond being pursued by Russians in the Siberian wasteland.
3. We don't want to hear about your many ex'es. There is zero-tolerance for crying on a date.
4. Frozen drinks are for children. Please order your drink on the rocks, or shaken (not stirred).
5. Appropriate, tasteful dress for the venue is required. For suggestions on attire, review Casino Royale.
6. Never, ever, ever tell a Single Female Surgeon she is intimidating. This is the girliest of Girlie-Men moves. You may think it, but saying it out loud results in her having license to kill the relationship.
The conclusion? There is only one man for me. His name is Bond...James Bond.
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