Category Archives: personal growth

#AtoZChallenge: Drudgery and Discipline

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Well this is scary… It’s only day 4 of the A to Z Challenge and I’m already feeling blocked! ACK! I had what felt like a semi-brilliant idea for ‘D’ –a week ago. I even wrote a short draft. But now I’m embarrassed to continue—it feels redundant and self-indulgent. I’m a little paralyzed by fear. What to do now?

I signed up for this challenge partly to make myself sit down and write every day, or at least attempt it. I’ve kept a running list of my favorite words, declared a theme, committed to a program. I am now accountable. It is up to me to practice the Discipline of daily writing.

I can’t imagine that writing this blog will ever become Drudgery, because if it ever does I can just stop. The blog itself is beholden to no one. But it’s something I created, something that I want to cultivate and develop. Quality of the content is bound to vary; I cannot be the perfect culmination of my best writer self every time! So regardless of how I feel about this post, I have resolved to publish something today, and I will have to find a way to make it good enough. It’s hard work, and it’s what I signed up for.

So this gets me thinking… How many physicians think of their work as drudgery? Sadly, the answer is more than we’d like to admit. Statistics abound on the alarming increase in burnout among physicians, physician suicide, and the associated decline in patient satisfaction and health outcomes. The defining features of burnout in any field are depersonalization, emotional exhaustion, and low sense of personal accomplishment. That’s as good a description of drudgery as I’ve ever seen.

Most of us experience some symptoms of burnout at one time or another. How do we get through it? Many of my colleagues rightfully look to operations—promoting streamlined workflows, simplifying documentation and coding, and standardizing protocols. But these changes come slowly, and we must function in the existing, cumbersome and inefficient systems while we advocate for the changes we want. So in the meantime, we forge ahead with gritty discipline.

Medical training remains rigorous, though in recent decades we have made it more merciful. From the premedical curriculum, to clinical rotations, to on-call responsibilities as attending physicians, our professional lives require us to be there for our patients when we’d rather be communing with friends, attending our children’s school plays, or just sleeping. We made a commitment, took an oath. And for the most part, our work rewards us with rich opportunities for lifelong learning, hearty fellowship, and the privilege of caring for humanity in the most intimate ways. The discipline—the commitment to the work—pays off in spades.

In my reflections on physician health and well-being, however, I always come back to another domain of discipline—that of self-care. Medicine attracts caregivers. Sometimes we are also control freaks, and exhibit somewhat masochistic tendencies. When we let these traits take over, they upset the balance needed to thrive in the complex medical milieu. We need to maintain objectivity with compassion and sensitivity, calm and clarity with intuition and judgment. We cannot do this effectively if we constantly run on empty. When we neglect our body/mind/spirit, we get irritable, and our work and relationships suffer. Ever seen a toddler clunk her head on some furniture while walking? If she’s well-fed and well-rested, she’s likely to keep moving, intent on getting to her favorite toy on the other side of the room. If she is tired and hungry, however, the same innocuous thump may trigger a full-scale meltdown of epic proportions. It’s no different for adults. We need regular feedings, rest, and playtime just as much as our children do. For my part, when I speak to colleagues on burnout and resilience, I focus on the discipline of self-care. It’s what we can control now, while we continue the necessary work of systems change.

Fortunately, I have chosen a profession that feeds my soul. It is a calling, a vocation. I have also chosen to indulge in a hobby, writing, that fulfills me similarly. Both require commitment, discipline, and practice to be done well. Both run the risk of becoming drudgery, under certain circumstances.

This post has been an exercise in Disciplined Writing. I wanted to write while inspired, and it just was not happening. So I had to simply sit down and get to work. But as Liz Gilbert discusses in her brilliant new book, Big Magic, inspiration did visit me, however briefly, in the process.  That will keep me coming back to practice. I will continue this exercise all month—thank you for bearing with me!

#AtoZChallenge: Cursing, Curiosity, and Connection

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Welcome to my first attempt at the Blogging A to Z Challenge!  26 posts starting April 1, one for each letter of the alphabet (I get Sundays off).  I’m exploring meaningful words to apply to perceptions, attitudes, behaviors, and relationships. It’s a personal journey, part of my mission of self-assessment and development through writing.  Thank you for stopping by, and please feel free to comment! 🙂

 

Sometimes we get angry, and we need an outlet. But often we need to suppress, get through the situation with grace and smiles.  Sometimes the need for professionalism and control can turn into chronic repression, which can then lead to sudden and violent explosions, often on those we love most.  Psychology tells us that children (and adults, as well) do this because it’s safest to lose it among those who truly love us, and we know this subconsciously.  But the scars left on these relationships can be disfiguring.  It’s dysfunctional, and there is a solution:  Curse It All.

A colleague in mind-body medicine told me once that he recommended to his patients to tantrum. I was incredulous at first, but then I saw the light.  Venting, done appropriately, can be cathartic and liberating.  One day I became abruptly livid, I won’t tell you why, but suffice it to say it was over something small, that represented a chronic dysfunctional pattern in a longstanding relationship (Cryptic is also a word for this post!).  It occurred to me that this was the perfect opportunity to try the tantrum method.  I was home by myself, and I share no walls with my neighbors.  I took a pair of jeans, held them by the cuffs, and proceeded to pummel at the bed, all the while screaming expletives at the top of my lungs, stomping, and flailing wildly.  It took maybe 45 seconds, tops.  Afterward I felt a new calm, a lightness that had seemed impossible just minutes before.

Cursing, or swearing, has some interesting benefits. It can increase pain tolerance, strengthen bonds of solidarity, and help us convey conviction and passion.  So I endorse it, as long as we use these words strategically.  A follow up experiment to the pain tolerance study found that daily swearers, people habituated to the practice, had less analgesic benefit compared to occasional swearers.  We now also have access to adult coloring books, giving us a visual route to unload intense emotions.

sh-t storm coloring book cover

image from Google

But then there is more work to do. Sometimes it’s enough just to have vented, but I think we serve ourselves best when we can take some time and energy to evaluate.  The first step here is to get Curious.  I first learned this from my life coach.  In conflict, it’s so easy to only see our own point of view.  Emotional hijacking causes tunnel vision.  So once the emotions have dissipated by way of swearing and chopping bed with jeans, we can once again see and think clearly.  Curiosity asks open-ended questions:  What just happened here?  How did I get to this place?  Why do I fly off the handle like this whenever (fill in the blank)?  Advanced curiosity is where assumptions can also be challenged:  What story am I telling about the other person that causes me to react this way?  What other story can I tell that would help us both suffer less and get to mutual understanding?  These are well-established techniques in coaching and psychology.  I refer you to Rising Strong, Brené Brown’s newest book, in which she describes the process of using curiosity as the springboard for healing from adversity and living ‘wholeheartedly.’

 

Why is this important? Because humans live to be connected.  Anger can be blinding.  It arises first and so intensely when we have other, more distressing feelings underlying, such as sadness, shame, rejection, and guilt.  Anger serves to protect us from the pain of those emotions, and also keeps us from moving through them, healing them.  The repression-explosion cycle costs us energy and connection (to self and others), and ultimately keeps us from living truly, freely, joyful lives.  Cursing decompresses emotions, allowing us to open the door to relationships with curiosity.  Then, when we uncover the answers to the open-ended questions, we can start to reconnect with what we love about our partners, our children, our friends, our colleagues, and ourselves.

So go ahead, detonate those strategic f-bombs!  Find the padded space to rail and flail.  Then savor the possibilities of newfound clarity of mind and heart.  How much better could it get?  We never know, but it could be spectacular.

#AtoZChallenge: On Belay!

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Lately I feel like I berate my kids. Could you please rinse your spoon?  How many times do I need to tell you to pick up your clothes?  Please, thank you, please, thank you, please?  Maybe I’m tired, stressed, sleep deprived; maybe I’m just irritable.  I don’t like it.  I’d rather guide them with more patience and love.  Like Toni Morrison said, “You think your affection and deep love is on display, because you’re caring for them.  It’s not.”  She asks, “Does you face light up” when you see your children?  In other words, can they see and feel your love for them when they see your face?

I don’t want to berate. I want to belay!

I first learned this word at a ropes course, maybe in high school. It’s a climbing term many of you will know.  Dictionary.com’s mountain climbing definition of belay is as follows:

  1. To secure (a person) by attaching to one end of a rope.
  2. To secure (a rope) by attaching to a person or to an object offering stable support.

I remember hearing, “On belay!” as part of the climbing sequence. A quick Google search of the phrase yields this explanation:  “Your belayer…lets you know that he is on belay and that it is safe for you to climb, saying, ‘On belay.’”  The voice commands before climbing commences are:

Belayer: “On Belay.”

Climber: “Ready to Climb.”

Belayer: “Climb” or “Climb on.”

Climber: “Climbing.”

I want to be the belayer, the anchor—of character, behavior, confidence, and love—from which my children can cast themselves. They need to know that I am here to secure them, the stable place from which they can strive for new heights.  In order to do this, they need to know that I believe in them, that I see their essential worthiness.  I could say something more like, “Hey, I know you’re a good kid and you want to help out.  It really helps keep our home clean if you pick up your clothes from the floor.”  It’s much more mindful.

Recently the actor Tom Hiddleston appeared on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, to promote his new movie, “I Saw the Light.”  Hiddleston, a Brit, plays Hank Williams, the iconic American folk singer.  I already love both Hiddleston and Colbert, so I could not wait to watch the video of them singing a duet on the show.  It turns out that Hiddleston had never sung before this role, but did all the singing himself in the film.  Colbert invites him to sing, live and impromptu, on the show, and what follows is a perfect study in belaying.  Allow me to dissect and interpret:

2:18   Stephen first invites Tom to sing.  Tom expresses apprehension.  The crowd goes wild and he looks conflicted, as if he mostly does not want to sing.  He tries to quiet the crowd but they are rowdy.

2:33   Stephen lightens the mood by playing spoons on the desk.  He makes it safe for Tom to consider the invitation, buys him some time to decide.

2:36   Tom says if we want to see him sing, we should see the film.  He looks almost deflated, like he feels at once dutiful to have plugged his movie, and disappointed that he might have passed up a chance to perform.

2:41     Stephen chuckles playfully and says, “Okay, uh, we’ll see.”  He’s thinking of another way to coax Tom out a little.

2:45     Stephen promptly finds a way to relate to Tom—says he grew up on Hank Williams.  He appeals to Tom’s admiration for the singer, makes a connection.  He suggests they sing “I Saw the Light,” the title track from the movie.  Tom still looks disinclined.

2:56   Stephen gets a riff from the band, and sings the first line of the song.  It’s pitch perfect, and completely authentic.  He puts himself out there first, an honest and vulnerable invitation for Tom to join in.  On belay!

3:03   Tom has been holding his breath, and lets it out in a reluctant puff, shaking his head.  You can still see his conflict, and you’re rooting for him.  Jump in, Stephen will hold you up!

3:10-5   Tom sings the second line with Stephen, slowly, and in perfect harmony.  He’s still sitting back, a little stiff, hands clasped in his lap, cautiously accepting the invitation.  Ready to climb!photo 1.PNG

3:26   Tom starts to lean forward toward Stephen, engaging more.

3:29   The band starts playing in earnest and the audience immediately starts clapping enthusiastically.  At this point you just want to get up and dance, the energy palpably rising.  Climb on!

3:34   Tom breaks a smile while singing—a big, joyous smile.  photo 2+.PNG

3:37   His shoulders relax, he gets animated.  He leans in further, starts to really have fun.  Climbing!

3:45   Tom turns to the audience to encourage them in return, while Stephen interjects, “Everybody!”  Tom starts to clap, and sings to the audience.

3:55   Tom’s really enjoying himself, he’s into it.  If you’re not moving your body by now, there might be something wrong with you.

4:06   The finale starts.  Tom leans into Stephen again, following timing cues as the chorus slows.

4:15   He looks to Stephen, grateful and maybe a little relieved, and also very glad that he took this chance to sing and have fun.  photo 3.PNG

4:19  After shaking hands, Tom lightly hits the desk with his fist.  I bet he’s thinking, “Nailed it.”  photo 4.PNG

 

The interview starts with the two men talking about Hank Williams’ troubled life, his ‘formidable demons,’ as Hiddleston puts it. He expresses compassion for this, as I have seen him do in previous interviews about other characters he has portrayed.  He describes how Williams rose to stardom quickly, but ‘with no real support, no one to anchor him.’  Funny how he uses that word, anchor—like belayer.

We all need our anchors, our belayers. They are the people in our lives to whom we secure ourselves, and who look out for us.  Thanks to them, we can climb on, toward new experiences.  From their stable posts, we can stretch out and grow.  And when one of us grows, we can all grow.  Or in the case of this video, we all at least have a great time!

We can belay one another in seemingly the smallest ways…or maybe they’re not so small after all.  I bet Tom will remember this duet his whole life.