Hayma's World

https://substack.com/@haymanotg/note/c-179644881?r=61luz5&utm_medium=ios&utm_source=notes-share-action

Thoughts of 3 PM, Sunday Afternoon
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I know I've said this before, but I'll say it again, the person I am on a slow Sunday morning that is who I truly am. It's all me. Completely and absolutely. It's me and the stillness. the serenity, the podcasts, the…

Thoughts of 3 PM, Sunday Afternoon
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I know I've said this before, but I'll say it again, the person I am on a slow Sunday morning that is who I truly am. It's all me. Completely and absolutely. It's me and the stillness. the serenity, the podcasts, the thoughts, the silence, the exhilaration. It's me in my habitat. It's me and home. The smell in the air. It's mine. I really think it's all mine.
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At times, I hate how the reality of something fails to live up to the idea of it. But then again an idea is perfect. It’s whatever you want it to be and more. Whereas reality is much more… real if you will. Raw. And true. And it will take you by surprise. It will disappoint you mostly or pleasantly surprise you.
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I think if I ever get a chance to give a giant acceptance speech for something amazing that I've done. I will definitely be taking time out to thank my gut. I mean I made stupid decisions most of the time yet every once in a while, my gut gets a feeling about something. It just knows. And every time I've leaned in to it, it has served me well. It has allowed me to make decisions not out of fear (a mistake that I've made many times in the past) but despite it.
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Next week is going to be busy. The list of things I’m procrastinating on is starting to scare me.
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A friend shared one of Warsan Shire’s poem on Instagram. And then I googled whatever I could find by her online and devoured it. She slays with her words. Effortlessly. I want you to read 'Anger'
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It’s my newest favorite, right next to her famous 'For Women who are difficult to love' obviously.
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Addis's album is meh but there is still something hauntingly beautiful about this performance of
ብቻ ነይ እንጂ.
Until again next time.
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https://substack.com/@haymanotg/note/p-177088485?r=61luz5&utm_medium=ios&utm_source=notes-share-action

አንዳንድ ነገሮች
:
Thoughts of 9 AM, Tuesday Morning
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A friend forwarded me a piece I wrote six years ago and reading it felt like hugging a younger version of myself. She was so open, so free with her words and emotions. She loved love, being in love and writing about it. I envy her now. I envy her heart. I hope she comes back someday.
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There was sth that Jo said when we were having lunch yesterday
“There is always a little bit of us in our tragedy.”
Words to live by but it made me wonder how much of a part have I played in my tragedy? I still need some more time to determine whether it even is a tragedy.
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It’s funny, isn’t it? How life rarely takes us where we plan to go and yet there’s sth exciting about that. ብቻ ወጣትነት ይገርማል not just the years, but the feeling: the dreams, the heart, the enthusiasm.
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I used to think time healed everything but the more i think about it, Time and human distress travel in parallel paths. Time does not heal. Human beings just get better at tolerating it. You get conditioned to the pain, making it a habitual part of your existence that puts an unstable mind into a more stable state. Human beings do not like an unstable state of mind. Time is relative to pain in the sense of making us more tolerable and later immune to what had hurt us before.
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Lately I’ve been thinking about how we are living in a state of constant overstimulation. Even those who don’t have ADHD, have started to develop ADHD tendencies. How many of us can sit in silence for 30 minutes with a single, focused thought? This isn’t medical supported narrative rather a personal opinion. But I do think we’re forgetting how to be still. How to be mindful. And it shows.
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I wanna LIVE inside of this song, The feeling I get from it consistently is insane. It’s like love but as a song.
https://youtu.be/Wcw2JCNVtvQ?si=PI4IeglpbAc5-18_
Until again we meet.
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This was actually a fun one to write, sitting down and reflecting on everything 25 brought my way. From confusion to achievements to new beginnings… it was a lot but in the best way.
Cheers to whatever 26 holds and make sure to check out the full article on substack.
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https://substack.com/@haymanotg/note/p-169587520?r=61luz5&utm_medium=ios&utm_source=notes-share-action
https://substack.com/@haymanotg/note/p-169587520?r=61luz5&utm_medium=ios&utm_source=notes-share-action

I just watched this really interesting conversation between Jay Shetty and Dr. Jandial about memory and it reminded me of this piece I wrote a while back about Alzheimer’s. Just shared it on Substack as my first post, would love for you to check it out and connect with me there.
https://open.substack.com/pub/haymanotg/p/what-i-learned-about-alzheimers-through?r=61luz5&utm_medium=ios

Gyne sucked the life and happiness out of me.
በምን ትዝ ብሎኝ ነው? እኔንጃ። But I just missed writing here and I wanna share one of the things I haven't tell anyone about till now. This piece is one part of my internship I never talk about. You won’t hear me reminiscing about gyne and if you know me, you’d understand how strange that is. I was always the delulu one the overly ገጣጣ intern who found joy in almost every corner of the hospital. The one who’d get excited about her morning rounds, the one who always started her days smiling. I loved internship. But in gyne, I was a different version of myself. One I didn’t recognize.
Those 3 months broke me in every way possible. Emotionally. Physically. The environment was cold. Unwelcoming. I always felt like an outsider whenever I walked into the wards. I still remember my first night on duty because it felt like a test I was doomed to fail from the beginning. I was assigned at the emergency which is usually considered as the better side to be on compared to the labor ward. In the emergency, you can finish your tasks early if you admit patients for priming and induction and get some breathing space for the rest of the night.
But that was not the case on my shift.
We had two complicated patients. One a first trimester pregnant woman came with nephrotic syndrome which should have been admitted to internal medicine ward and we had to walk back and forth for consultation at least 4x that night and the senior resident checked in multiple times growing more frustrated each time
"ዶክ አሁንም አልመጡም እንዴ? Consultation ግን ለጥፈሻል አይደል?”
he said, eyes narrowing in suspicion...
“አዎ ቅርብ ሰዓት ነው ሄጄ የመጣሁት”
and then headed back to the IM ward again... probably a fifth trip in the night... Consultation መለጠፌን ላረጋግጥ *
This is where you're supposed to giggle a bit. C'mon :D
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And the other patient arrived past midnight around 8:30 a known chronic hypertensive patient who came with IUFD who we were not supposed to admit in the first place but the midwife told me to call the resident which I did and the next thing I did was put the patient on bed and putting the ultrasound probe to confirm the fetal heart beat and then came the moment I’ll never forget the year 2 resident clearly tired, frustrated maybe even a little angry because we called him in the middle of the night turned his frustration towards me. I know it wasn’t personal. I tell myself that even now. But in that moment it felt deeply personal. It felt like I was failing, like I didn’t belong, like I wasn’t enough.
That night was the first time I questioned everything. My competence. My knowledge. My place in the hospital. It was the night I realized fear can be more suffocating than exhaustion. It was the night I learned that one person’s harsh words can echo louder than a hundred encouraging ones.
Yessss, You don’t hear me talk about gyne often because gyne didn’t just challenge me it changed me from the very beginning. It took a cheerful, confident girl and slowly turned her into someone who doubted herself. But in a way, I’m glad it was my last attachment because if it had been the first, things might have turned out very differently.
I don't really know why I'm writing this now but if there’s one thing I want you to take away it’s this:
Medicine will break you not once but over and over again. But It will also teach you how to keep showing up. How to cry in silence and still smile in front of everyone. And They don't teach you that in textbooks but it's real and maybe just maybe, that's the beauty of it all.

Title: The Boyfriend
Author: Freida McFadden
Its always this is definitely the last Freida book I'm reading but somehow I always end up picking another one. And this time? It was 'The Boyfriend'.
This book is about Sydney who's in her 30s and has a terible luck with dating. Just when she's ready to give up this mysterious and handsome guy walks into her life who seems like Mr. Perfect. But... is he really?
One thing I enjoy about reading Freida's books is how you think you've figured everything out, you will find yourself thinking that you have nailed the plot line and she will give you hints that will make you think you figured it all out but then she hits you with a twist you never saw coming.
That said, the writing in this one felt a bit rushed and overly simple. Some parts of the story felt unnecessary and extremely far fetched... like the number of coincidences was a bit much.
But still if you're in a reading slump and want sth quick and easy to read, this is a good pick. Not my favorite from her, but it definitely delivered on the suspense.