So… what do you do?

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December is the prime time for this question, or versions thereof. With everyone getting together for Christmas and New Year, I knew I would be catching up with friends and relatives and meeting new people, so small talk would be abundant for a good two or three weeks. I have to admit, I was dreading it. I was afraid of their judgement and remarks. I suppose I was also afraid of how I would react to their reactions. I could hardly justify my situation to myself, so how could I justify it to others?

I have always taken it for granted that I could give people a satisfactory progress report. “I’m in year 13” turned into “I’m in year X at medical school,” which turned into “I’m working at such-and-such hospital.” The only variation to contend with was the inevitable follow up question: “Have you chosen your speciality yet?”

Traditionally, the responses I have given to these queries have depended largely on how I feel about the person asking them. With kindred spirits – the people I feel will really listen and might understand my point of view – I am honest, but mostly I’ve just been busy hiding my true feelings about it all these years, even from the people closest to me.

As Christmas loomed, everything seemed so complicated. What was I supposed to say when people asked me what I was doing now?

“I had a quarter-life crisis and quit my job with no plan B, so I’m now officially unemployed and relying on my savings and my fiancé to get by. I have no current certainty or prospects, and not much of an idea about what to do, except a vague plan to write a novel that I’m unjustifiably optimistic about.”

It sounded terrible. I almost wanted to avoid the festive parties altogether to save myself from this humiliating admission. I also felt bad for my parents – when people asked them how I was getting on, they would be having exactly the same problem.

Then, two things happened to me.

The first was deciding to locum after my little visit to the job centre. That gave me something solidly medical to say, and was a relief. “I’m locuming at the moment” is a brilliant answer for those you don’t really want to talk to, and who are just asking you for the sake of saying something. It’s satisfying for both parties and the perfect precursor for a swift exit line.

The other was this: at the start of December, in between dancing for joy and plunging into the depths of despair, I started job hunting on the Guardian website. I found an ad I was interested in for a managerial role in a charity, but being inexperienced with this sort of thing, I was doubtful. I worried that I didn’t meet the criteria in many of the job specifications, because a lot of them stated the necessity for formal qualifications or specific experience. But, as my fiancé told me, job specs are not hard and fast rules. They represent the ‘ideal’, and most companies would rather hire the closest match than wait for the perfect candidate. My career coach has also been helping me to realise the value of the skills and experiences I already have.

So I shot off my CV, not really believing anything would come of it. Then two weeks later, I got a call. The charity had said my application was certainly unusual, but they had loved it. They offered me a telephone interview, and after that, they offered me a formal interview. I’m going in for it next week. Whether or not I get the job in the end, it’s been such a boost for me just getting to interview.

It’s also nice to sing my own praises. It’s not something I got to do much in medicine – it was more about people assessing me. ARCPs are tick-boxing exercises and applying for clinical jobs requires more form-filling and exam-taking than knowledge of your true strengths, skills and weaknesses. It’s just the nature of the medical profession that everybody is presumed to have all the necessary skills for their level. As a result, the thought of doing a non-medical interview is scary. No longer can I rest on my laurels; I actually have to prove myself. It’s made me sit down and think about what I’m really good at, what suits me and what I really want – perhaps for the first time in my entire life.

As the Yuletide approached, I started to see my situation is a different light. Yes, there are things in my current situation that I don’t like, but there is also plenty of potential. This is a really exciting time for me, and I really need to give myself a break. It sounds cliché to ‘have faith in yourself’ and to ‘stay positive’ but these little things can be incredibly difficult to do. I still struggle sometimes, but I’m working my way towards another cliché where I see my glass as half full.

So now, when people ask ‘what are you doing now?’ I have an answer I’m proud of:

“Well, I’m planning to locum while transitioning into a new career. I’ve got an interview with a charity soon for a management role. In the meantime, I’m volunteering for Medic Footprints to help other doctors in their careers – a role that I got because the directors were impressed by an article about their conference on my personal blog. I’m also researching the British colonization of Asia to give historical accuracy to the novel I am currently writing.”

There. Sounds much better doesn’t it? And the best things are: it’s all true, and I can say it to everyone.

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Image from Malla.

Malla is a small business coach and expert at answering this question!

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A New Year letter from my better self to me:

Dear Me,

This year, for the first time in perhaps your whole life, you have opened your eyes to who you really are.

Your history of anxiety, self-loathing and doubt have left you feeling scared in the face of this discovery. “Is it too late to change?” you say. “I should have done things differently.”

As much as you are enjoying your new freedom and renewed vision, your negativity is holding you back from embracing it.

So I challenge you in this year ahead to change your attitude. Do not see the past as a waste, but as the path that led you here. Do not regret your former actions because without them you wouldn’t see the value of what you are now. This is your opportunity to do something you really want to do; your investment in yourself now is you saying “I am WORTH investing in!”

The months ahead are not going to be easy. The road you’ve chosen is a difficult one, and you will encounter disappointment. You will fail. You will perhaps wonder why you left the safety and security you had before. So let me write the reasons down here so you can remind yourself:

You left because you have a gift that no one else has. You have a goal that no one else can do but you. You have an inexplicable, unshakeable faith in something that inspires you, and so will inspire other people.

Whatever happens, do not give up the fight. Do not regard the opinions of those who confuse the easy path with the right one. You are clever enough and savvy enough to know how far you should go.

Peach, you have remembered who you are. Mad romantic, dreamer, visionary, optimist. Do not ever forget it again.

 

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The first day of the rest of my life…

I am an ex-junior doctor.

I worked in the NHS for just over two years. I went to medical school for six years. But in 2015, at the age of 26, I resigned from my job. I wrote the post below shortly after I handed in my resignation, and I have been using this blog ever since to document my career journey, and the emotional process of leaving something that had become such a huge part of my identity.

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16th October 2015

I’ve quit my job as a doctor. I can hardly believe I’ve done it, but I have.

Despite all the political turmoil surrounding junior doctor contracts at the moment, and the threat of worsening working conditions, this government’s idiocy is not the only reason I’m leaving.

This has been a long time coming. I never really wanted to be a doctor, but when you’re 15 years old and choosing your GCSEs at school, it’s very difficult not to be influenced by the adults around you who tell you that you’re good at science, and therefore you should do medicine.

I have tried. I really have. I passed every exam at medical school, I got a good job in London, I got very good feedback from my peers, my mentors and my patients – but there was always something missing, and that something ate away at me inside for months on end, killing my passion, fading my colours away.

I don’t know what I’m going to do. I have no plan as such, only a dream to get back into my true loves: creative writing and modern foreign languages. I have no new job lined up for when I finish on December 4th. It is perhaps a little mad to do things this way, with no plan B, but quitting will hopefully give me the impetus to do now what I have been putting off for a very long time.

I want to use this blog to document my journey, and also talk about my experiences as a doctor: the good, the bad, and the terrible. I can now be brutally honest about what it’s really like to work for the NHS – since I’m leaving anyway, I won’t have to worry about losing my job for speaking out!

The NHS can be a brutal and frankly unsafe place to work, and I realised that, without the desire to give up my entire life for his profession, staying in it would be simply too hard. If it isn’t your passion, the huge sacrifices involved in being a doctor just don’t feel worth it.

I have no regrets about my medical career; it was a fantastic experience and has made me who I am today, but it does not define me. The day I leave will be the first day of the rest of my life, and I cannot wait to get started.