Can We Talk
I’m not talking about the break-up conversation, though I suppose it’s applicable.
In a recent blog post, I mentioned “shark” behaviour—something I’ve had to deal with repeatedly at university. This idea that medical students are the epitome of the ideal human—intellectually smart, endlessly caring—was a concept I once shared. Over the last four years, that belief has been aggressively dismantled.
With a competitive course comes a highly competitive nature, which can be a force for good—if the right balance is struck. But the scales tip when the pursuit of success comes at the downfall of those around you. As others make strides toward their goals, gain control of their emotions, and begin to strike a balance in life, you might take stock of your own situation and realise you're not in the same zone. And instead of looking inward and working on yourself, the easier option becomes throwing chaos into someone else’s life—until it becomes a mess, and you can once again feel ahead.
I almost commend those who create such chaos. The determination it takes to spread rumours and sow seeds of doubt in someone’s mind is... all-encompassing. Had even a fraction of that effort been turned inward, perhaps they would be far more satisfied with where they are.
As the victim becomes surrounded by negativity—thoughts and comments that oppose their identity, seeds of doubt cast on their closest relationships—small chinks in their armour begin to appear. They can see it, but the attacker can’t. The victim may lose sight of their reality, question their judgement, and even look to their attacker for comfort. The person who built the room of torment becomes their only confidant. And at that point, the attacker asks, “Can we talk?”
Then begins a conversation that will leave the victim helpless, isolated, and without the one person they thought understood them—the one who put them there in the first place.
It sounds like fiction, and I wish it were. But I’ve seen it far too often.
When you bring yourself to a place that satisfies your definition of success and happiness, protect it. Don’t look outwardly for approval. The more you enter the spotlight, the more criticism will follow. In an ideal world, you’d be a sign of what’s possible. In reality, outside of the few who will genuinely cheer you on, you become a reminder of what others are not. That tension can turn to resentment. So be prepared: when you strive for your version of success, opposition will come.
Audit your circle, and do it well. Don’t let people in if you carry even a shred of doubt. When your circle is right and you're clear on your direction, let the noise be.
“Can we talk?”
No.
