When the white coat becomes heavy

<h1>Part one: The Romance and the Rupture </h1> So I've been away for a long while 😩 school took me away. But let's talk about what happened these past months.Let's talk about what happens when that white coat becomes so heavy you can no longer wear it. WHEN THE WHITE COAT BECOMES HEAVYThe first time we wore it,it felt like light. Not just a piece of fabric or cotton,or even some stitched garment with buttons and a name tag. It felt like arrival,like proof. Like visible reward of years spent dreaming, memorizing equations, spending nights in prayer and convincing relatives that this was not just a phase.The white coat did not just sit on our shoulders. It floated,made us stand straighter. It made our parents voices soften with pride. "Oh my child is becoming a doctor of Pharmacy" "oh she's in pharmacy school" . It made us believe we were already halfway to the future we designed. We took photographs as though success were guaranteed.In first year,the dream was uncomplicated. We would graduate together and walk into industries lined with vials. We would specialize and conduct research. We would fix what medicine had not yet fixed. We spoke about drug discovery as if it were a dinner plan. No ifs,no buts. "When we become pharmacists" . The certainty was real. The coat was still light, because expectations had not yet filled it.Then came second year,and the curriculum stopped being romantic.Pharmacokinetics was no longer elegant,it was relentless. Biochemical pathways felt like drowning. Anatomical structures deprive you of your sleep. Pathophysiology was no longer fascinating,it was suffocating. The exams were not assessments,they became seives. Each semester someone slipped through. We learnt something no ceremony prepares you for;that intelligence does not immunize you against exhaustion.The white coat started absorbing things. Family pressure. Financial strain. Comparison. The quiet competition every one feels,though it has no name. The way results determine how loudly you speak in group discussions. The way one low grade destabilizes your entire sense of being.You make friends who leave you halfway. Probation is an ugly word. It does not scream,it whispers. It rearranges your entire routine and how people look at you,how you look at yourself. But probation is a word for the predecessors. Here we witness withdrawal warnings as resits, a trajectory that recalibrates an entire existence. It is not merely warning,it's a psychological tremor. You attend lectures differently when your name has passed through administrative offices. The collapse comes from fatigue. The kind that does not leave after sleep,the kind that turns passion into performance.Friends drift away. Dreams shift. Nights blur into study, worry, and doubt. The sleeves feel tighter. The collar presses at your throat. Even when you sit, the weight hangs from invisible threads you cannot cut. Every expectation, every comparison, every whispered doubt accumulates.And then one day,you decide to leave.Because leaving felt safe. And sometimes it's true, staying might be brave,but leaving is braver.

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