Perspective Taking

Born a Crime

NaBloPoMo 2018:  What I’m Learning

I’m thinking a lot about empathy lately.  I am less cynical today than I might have been a few months ago, maybe.  I have uttered the words, “People suck” more this year than any other year in my life, perhaps.  But maybe writing about things I’m for rather than things I’m against, or reflecting on things I have learned and am learning, and from whom I’m learning them, has given me some hope.

Another person who gives me hope is Trevor Noah.  I mentioned in the first post of this month that I listened to his book, Born A Crime.  He really is an impressive and worldly young man, and I look forward to following his career and life for a while yet.

The best part about the book is the accents and impressions that Trevor does throughout his reading.  I have not actually read the book, but I am sure that hearing it on Audible is much, much better.  The second best part about the book is the actual book.  It’s a memoir, you must hear it!  In a series of non-chronological and yet expertly woven stories, he describes his childhood and adolescence in South Africa, son of a black Xhosa mother and white Swiss-German father.  Apartheid, outright racism, family conflict, domestic abuse and violence, crime, he lived it all.  Any of it would have probably killed me—jumping out of moving cars, for instance.  But he tells it both matter-of-factly, and with tremendous love.  I don’t mean that he loved all the terrible things that happened to him; rather I feel he has a deep and abiding love of humanity.  He accepts that it all happened and made him who he is today; I hear no resentment or bitterness.  He especially reveres his mother, and rightly so, she is a total Badass Mama Goddess.  I won’t give any of it away, you just gotta hear the book, she is UH-MAZING.  She is the best part of the book.

No, actually, the best part of the book is Noah’s ability to convey his understanding of everybody’s perspective in his life.  He translates for us the mindset of his independent mother, his stoic father, his wise grandmother, his friends from various, sometimes opposing, ethnic groups, and his hotheaded stepfather, among others.  At the same time he describes unbelievable atrocities committed by others, he does not vilify them.  There is never a hint of victimhood in a life story full of loss, poverty, and violence.  Hearing his perspective, and then his explanations of various other people’s perspectives, I was reminded that everybody’s point of view is shaped by so many things that I cannot possibly know even a part of it.  Every single human is a product and a manifestation of all of their genes, environment, experiences, and influences.  Every single one of us is unique.  And yet, most of the time, I make assumptions about what other people think, how they feel, what must motivate them, as if I know.  I think we all do this more than we’d like to admit.  I just wrote yesterday about how we humans have the capacity to relate, despite our disparate experiences.  Today I consider the flip side of that, which is ‘othering’ people by ignoring shared humanity, denying that capacity, repressing it.

Trevor Noah practices perspective taking as a routine.  I think that’s what makes him such a gifted comedian.  Comedy shows us our foibles so we might reflect but not so much that we feel shame.  He did this beautifully recently speaking about the migrant caravan from Honduras:

I’ve noticed other news networks in America specifically seem to focus on what the caravan means for America, and less on what the caravan means to the people in the caravan. 

He recalls growing up in South Africa, seeing news about Zimbabwe during the worst times of Robert Mugabe’s rule.  South Africans understood why Zimbabweans were leaving the country and coming to South Africa.  They may or may not have wanted them to come, but they nevertheless related to the motivations for migration.  He contrasts this with how Central American migrants are painted as threatening criminals, coming to pillage and plunder America.  This prevents us from acknowledging our shared humanity, from seeing ourselves in those around us.  It divides us unnecessarily and to the detriment of us all.

I have done a poor job explaining Trevor Noah’s comedic and humanitarian genius.  But seriously, just read (no, listen to!) his book, and watch his Between the Scenes videos on Facebook.  They are uplifting and fun.

Good night!

See, Do, Teach

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NaBloPoMo 2018:  What I’m Learning

When did you first notice you were led well?  Who was it, what was the circumstance?

See

I was in 7th grade math class.  The teacher was Joe Alt.  I met him 33 years ago, when I was 12, and I still consider him one of my greatest and most important mentors.  He could teach anything and make it interesting, and we learned not only math and science, but how to be good people.  In a class that included both uber-nerd me and ultra-headbanger dude, he helped us both to see each other as people and get along so we could all learn.

Later I would find leadership role models in my athletic coaches, professors, program directors, committee colleagues, and hospital administrators.  At their best, these people were/are:

  • Attuned
  • Empathic
  • Reflective
  • Articulate
  • Intrinsically Motivated
  • Actively Engaged
  • Personal
  • Approachable
  • Genuine

I have also studied on my own, seeking guidance from sources like Benjamin and Rosamund Stone Zander, Simon Sinek, Brené Brown, Daniel Goleman, Chip and Dan Heath,  Rachel Naomi Remen, The Harvard Business Review, most recently Anthony Suchman, and, soon again, Marcus Aurelius.  I’m always looking for the next new or old related idea, the next dot to connect in order to draw my leadership map with more depth and detail.

Do

Recently I asked a new mentor what books he likes to read about leadership, organizations, etc.  He said he reads some, but prefers to simply do, always learning, adapting, applying, and evolving along the way.  I have had small leadership roles at school and work, in my professional society, as well as in my community, over the years.  They have all given me tremendous opportunities to practice what I read.  More and more, I see the value in getting my nose out of the books, looking up, and stepping forward.

Teach?

I spoke with a high school freshman athlete recently.  She plays two sports, both teams comprised of both upper and lower class(wo)men.  She contrasted the coaches’ personalities and styles, and how she learns about the respective sports as well as teamwork, integrity, etc.  We noted how much better it feels when the coach knows you personally, and pays attention to your state of mind as well as your performance.  The team with the less attuned coach will soon choose a captain for next year.  It’s usually a senior, perhaps regardless of leadership skill or potential.  She described the various candidates to me, and why she thought they would be good captains (or not).

I asked her whether the team feels like a true team, or more like just a group of individuals.  She said right now, it’s the latter.  I asked how she would show up if one of the less desirable candidates were named captain.  She had not really thought about it other than to continue working on her own sports skills.  I then found myself offering copious unsolicited advice:

You have a few choices, I told her.  First, you could remain an individual, holding your own goals as primary.  You may or may not improve, your team may or may not do well, and your personal contribution to the success of the whole will be proportional to your own individual performance.  Second, as you progress in your skills and newer kids join the team, you can help teach and mentor them.  You could observe the new captain, identify her weaknesses. If possible, and if you’re so inclined, you can fill in the gaps for the team—lead from within the pack.  You could help build morale, create a true team from its inside, cultivate relationships that will make the whole greater than the sum of its parts.  You could set your sights higher than your own personal achievement and really help the team succeed.  Third, you could take it to the next level by cultivating an advisory relationship with the captain herself.  If you have her trust, and exercise tact, you could help her see and maximize her strengths, navigate around her weaknesses—you can ‘coach up.’

The latter choices are, obviously, harder and more labor intensive.  I would also argue that they would make membership on the team exponentially more meaningful for everybody.  By serving as a connector among teammates (with boundaries, realistic expectations, and self-care, of course), this young athlete could make connectors of her teammates, too.  And a few years from now, if she herself is tapped to lead, she will have already earned her peers’ respect.  They’ll follow out of course; it will feel only natural.  And, they may then already be the cohesive team that she really wants to serve as leader.

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These ideas poured forth in a torrent of consciousness, forming sentences before I could actually think them.  As happens so often, I found myself saying words, advising someone else, that I myself needed to hear at exactly that moment.  Most of the time it’s about eating, sleep, or exercise.  This was an A-ha! moment on my personal leadership journey.

Now I see the true meaning behind the phrase, “See one, do one, teach one.”  It’s not about becoming a teacher.  It’s about always remaining a student, because the best way to truly understand anything is to try teaching it.

See, do, teach.  It’s not linear.  It is, no question, completely cyclic.

The Feels Are Good

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NaBloPoMo 2018:  What I’m Learning

I’ve been working for many years now on feeling my feelings rather than thinking them.  Rationality and analysis in service of self-awareness and understanding are great, but I have tried too long to will my hard feelings away, or experience them all as anger rather than what they really are—sadness, shame, fear, etc.

With books like The Art of Possibility, Mindsight, and Rising Strong, after multiple readings, along with years of therapy, I have acquired the skills to allow these feelings to emerge, engage, and pass.  I understand much better now the purpose of emotions: they are simply signals.  They are meant to draw our attention to something meaningful in our existence.  This could be a threat, a connection, a relationship, anything.  We modern humans spend a lot of time judging our emotions (and thus one another’s), trying to suppress the ones that make us feel bad, masking them, numbing them, and offloading them.  For whatever reason, we are not good at simply allowing them, learning from them, and letting them go.

I started following Nate Green on Facebook just before he deactivated his page.  He now communicates with readers through email newsletters, and his is one of the few I actually read.  This week he sent a rare second message, linking to his recent article for Men’s Health, “There Will Be Tears: Inside the Retreat Where Men Purge Toxic Emotions.”  If you read nothing else this weekend, read this.

Nate participates in an Evryman retreat in Big Sky, Montana, a project “aimed at teaching men how to access and express their emotions.”  When I saw the headline I felt a squirming in my gut, which surprised me.  We, especially we women, are always urging men to be more ‘in touch’ with their feelings, right?  Don’t we always want our men to be more sensitive and caring, more empathic and expressive?  Don’t we want them to role model all of this for our children, especially our boys?

Nate describes the retreat and its exercises:

My thoughts are racing. I shift my feet. Andrew shifts his. We continue to stare at each other. Finally, Andrew takes a deep breath and speaks. “If you really knew me, you’d know that I smoke too much pot and use it as a coping mechanism. And you would know I’m ashamed of it.”

His gaze lowers, embarrassed. He looks back up and we lock eyes. Now it’s my turn.

“If you really knew me, you’d know that I sometimes drink too much alcohol and it worries me.”

I have never spoken those words out loud before. I instantly feel lighter, like a giant
weight I didn’t even know was there has been lifted. Andrew smiles, happy to not be alone in his confession.

“Thanks,” he says.

“Thank you,” I say.

…To our left and right are 16 other men, paired off just like us. Behind us sits a gigantic log cabin that will be our home for the next two nights. After that, we’ll carry 50-pound packs into the backcountry of Yellowstone National Park, where we’ll walk and sleep among the grizzlies, mosquitoes, and stars for three more nights.

We all met maybe an hour ago.

Yikes.  I’m pretty emotionally confident and open, and this would be hard for me.  Imagine (or maybe you don’t have to) how hard it would be for outwardly strong, independent, and stoic men to do this.  What would it take for you men to go on a retreat like this?  Women, how do you picture the men in your life going through something like this?  How would we react if our men disclosed their innermost fears to us, cried openly in front of us, at home, at work, on the field?

For a long time I did not understand how hard this is for men.  I thought they were all just shallow and simply did not have emotions (other than anger and sarcasm).  In Daring Greatly Brené Brown writes how she learned about the severe threat that vulnerability really is for men.  After one of her presentations she was approached by an older man, a husband and father of her superfans.  He pointed out to her that though we say we want men to show more vulnerability, the moment any man does, he immediately pays a steep price.  I like to think we would welcome it, but I have a feeling many of us would react with shock and dismay, at least initially.  We complain about how women are perceived as weak and ‘hysterical’ when showing emotion, and if I’m honest, I might feel the same or worse about a man doing it.

So our mission should be to make it okay for all of us, men included, to ‘be emotional.’  That does not mean losing control and acting out.  It does not mean using emotions as an excuse for abusive behaviors.  It means allowing and holding space for our common human experiences to affect us at our core, and acknowledging how it feels.  It means helping each other breathe and walk through it all, holding each other up through the hard parts.  In Rising Strong and Dare to Lead, Brown takes us through steps she and her team have developed for working through hard emotions, called the Reckoning, Rumbling, and Revolution.  I’m getting really good at the first step, also known as the Shitty First Draft.

I know I have included multiple links here with minimal explanation.  It’s late.  And you can click and read at your leisure.  Or maybe you don’t need to; maybe you know exactly what I’m referring to and you march with the same mission already.  If so, let’s connect.  Let’s find all of us who understand the profound need for this shift in culture and society.  Let us form a chorus and sing loudly to whomever will listen, and make the world better for all of us—men, women, children—all of us for one another.

 

Frass, Trauma, and Other Stuff

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NaBloPoMo 2018:  What I’m Learning

Can’t think of anything useful to write today…  Or rather, I’m too tired to make any half useful thoughts into enough coherently connected sentences to be worth publishing.

So I’ll share some small things I have learned recently, which I find interesting.

Frass

Noun.  Fine powdery refuse or fragile perforated wood produced by the activity of boring insects.  The excrement of insect larvae.

I have a wonderfully smart and kind friend who conserves paper for a living.  Do you know any expert paper conservators up close and personal?  If so then you know the exquisite mind and temperament it takes to do this work.  She must possess the exacting scientific leanings that comprehend both biology and advanced chemistry (inorganic and organic).  She holds the vast sweep of art history, especially as it applies to paper and ink as media, at her fingertips.  And her appreciation for the uniqueness and intrinsic value of every piece drives her pursuit of the end product.  She must command all of this knowledge in an integrated fashion, bringing to each new project confidence, curiosity, and love.  And when she works on an old map in the library archives caked with dust and soot, and tells her friend about the project, she teaches her friend the word frass.

Getting out tree sap and other cool tips

You probably already know about using Coca-Cola to clean toilets, and salsa or ketchup to shine pennies and silver.  But did you know that olive oil and butter get out tree sap, and mayonnaise gets off glue residue?  Unbrewed coffee grounds absorb mildew if you leave them in an open container at the bottom of a closet for several days.  Vodka works well for getting smells out of clothes.  And rubbing your hands with salt can get out the smell of onion or garlic.

Toxic gaslighting

I only learned the word ‘gaslighting’ after the 2016 election.  *sigh*

The word was among the final contenders, apparently, for the Oxford English Dictionary’s 2018 Word of the Year.  But ‘toxic’ won.  Says the head of the company’s US dictionaries, “the word was chosen less for statistical reasons… than for the sheer variety of contexts in which it has proliferated, from conversations about environmental poisons to laments about today’s poisonous political discourse to the #MeToo movement, with its calling out of ‘toxic masculinity.’”  Last year’s WotY was ‘youthquake.’

Trauma

Last weekend I spent time with a wonderful residency classmate and her amazing family.  She is the Chief Medical Officer of a large health system that serves a population with a high prevalence of mental illness and substance abuse.  I got to hear about her passionate and profoundly important work educating and advocating for trauma-informed care, which I am only starting to learn about.  Interestingly, NPR had just posted an article detailing findings of a study published in the Journal of the American Medical Association (JAMA) showing that childhood trauma is strongly associated with poor adult function outcomes, such as mental illness, failure to hold a job, and social isolation.  By age 16, 31% of children in the study had had one traumatic exposure, 22.5% had had two, and 14.8% had had three.  What does that look like at the doctor’s office?  Read the Harvard story of the two kids and their vaccines here.  What can we do about it, as physicians and society?  First, recognize the prevalence.  NPR asked, “Should childhood trauma be treated as a public health crisis?”  The answer, unequivocally, is yes.  Second and always, practice curiosity and empathy. Every day.  All the time.  Again and again.  If someone is acting out, before judging them for being difficult and ruining your day on purpose, ask what could lie behind the behavior.  Everybody deserves and benefits from a little concern and gentleness. And if you’re a healthcare professional, start with the Harvard article, and then read this one from the National Council for Behavioral Health.  We all need to treat each other better.  So much better.  Please.

So, what interesting thing(s) have you learned lately?

Less Phone, More BOOKS!

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NaBloPoMo 2018: What I’m Learning

Hi, I’m Cathy, and I’m addicted to my phone.

Last month I finally decided to do something about it, mostly so I could be more present to the kids.  It’s been a fascinating journey so far, and I’m proud to say I’ve already made progress.  First I banned Facebook after 6pm.  That went well until I traveled.  Then I took the Facebook app off of my phone.  The withdrawl continues to spike at times.  I also notice that I use other things to substitute—New York Times, email, Washington Post, email, WordPress Reader, email.  I notice an anxiety, a frustration, a kind of crazed, darting hankering– I crave that dopamine hit.

The awareness of it all, however, and the commitment to get disentangled from my screen, has cleared space for a recently dormant impulse to surface afresh:

READ!

* * *

At the conference last month I was turned on to the idea of complexity (or chaos) theory and how it relates to fixing physician burnout and turning our whole medical system around.  It was positively mind-blowing (for me—most others did not seem quite as lit).  The speaker was Anthony Suchman, my newest hero.  Some highlight ideas:

  • Every system is perfectly designed to get exactly the results it gets. Our current healthcare system evolved to this point precisely from serial and cumulative decisions made over years, even though the current state was never the intent.
  • We think of organizations as machines, with predictable, linear consequences of adjustments in one part or another. This is rarely how organizations (of people) actually work.  Rather, we can think of organizations as conversations, and let go our expectations of particular outcomes, the illusion of total control.  We can let things unfold and go where the outcomes lead us, all while holding to core values and goals.
  • Patterns are (re)created in each moment, and also self-organizing. So at the same time that a pattern (eg culture) seems inevitable and self-propagating, sometimes small, almost imperceptible perturbations can create new and dramatic cascades that lead to transformation (the butterfly effect).
  • Emergent Design thus embraces the approach of “finding answers we are willing to not know,” trusting that we will get where we need to go simply because we are paying attention (or that’s how I interpret it today).

This theory that everything within a system both results from and also contributes to the whole system (a fractal) validates an idea I have been advocating to my patients for years, and that I continue to personally relearn ad nauseam: It’s all connected.  The most concrete examples are Sleep, Exercise, Nutrition, Stress Management, and Relationships—I used to call them the 5 Realms of Health; now I call them the 5 Reciprocal Domains.  Each one is inextricably connected to every other one, and they all move in concert, with subtle or dramatic dynamics.

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I browsed around my local bookstore a couple weeks ago and came across a colorful title on the shelf: Emergent Strategy by Adrienne Maree Brown.  So of course I snatched it up.  The blurb says:

Inspired by Octavia Butler’s explorations of our human relationship to change, Emergent Strategy is radical self-help, society-help, and planet-help designed to shape the futures we want to live.  Change is constant.  The world is in a continual state of flux.  It is a stream of ever-mutating, emergent patterns.  Rather than steel ourselves against such change, this book invites us to feel, map, assess, and learn from the swirling patterns around us in order to better understand and influence them as they happen.  This is a resolutely materialist “spirituality” based equally on science and science fiction, a visionary incantation to transform that which ultimately transforms us.

Holy cow, YAAAAS!!  I could not wait to read it!  So I bought it, along with Make Trouble by Cecile Richards, What If This Were Enough? By Heather Havrilesky, and The Dharma of “The Princess Bride” by Ethan Nichtern.  I had also ordered Leading Change in Healthcare, coauthored by Dr. Suchman and two others.  That copy arrived last week.

Suchman 1

I feel this as all part of a slow turn, getting off my phone and diving into books again.  I’m so excited.  I have done this before—buy a bunch of books and never read them.  They occupy whole shelves in my bedroom.  But I honestly feel a transformation coming on.  Yesterday I spent a couple hours reading, researching, and writing the blog post, then I turned off the computer and opened Brown’s book.  I read through the long introduction and resonated with sentences like, “Emergence is the way complex systems and patterns arise out of a multiplicity of relatively simple interactions.”  This is a quote from Complex Adaptive Leadership: Embracing Paradox and Uncertainty by Nick Obolensky (which I have also now ordered).  I also love (ha!), “Perhaps humans’ core function is love.  Love leads us to observe in a much deeper way than any other emotion.”  Also:

all that you touch

you change

all that you change

changes you

the only lasting truth

is change

god is change

That is a quote from Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler.

Then before bed I opened Suchman et al’s book and found these words, also in the introduction:

Complexity theory here is enriched by the focus on relationships [Hallelujah!], rather than the more traditional reference to science.  “Relationship-Centered Care” is a way of thinking that brings love and all that is personal into a world, the world of healthcare, that is mostly interested in more control and more data-based, evidence-based practices.

The point is made throughout that administrators cannot bring real change into their healthcare institutions without going through change themselves.

(The book describes) the relationship-centered social dynamics that are at the heart of Lean and a major source of this method’s success.  Unfortunately, these social dynamics are overshadowed or even displaced by the analytic technique in some Lean implementations, compromising results.

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So I’m learning about new ways to think on change.   It’s changing how I approach trying to change my patterns, how I see my relationship to them, how I see all relationships.  Wow.

All of this to say, I feel a deeply personal, yet global and cosmic impulse for growth, for transformation—a shift into more mindful and intentional use of my time and energy, and how I manifest it outward.  Less distraction, more focus.  Less incidental information consumption, more integrated learning and coordinated application.  Less phone, more BOOKS.

What will be the outcome?  I have no idea, that’s what makes it so exciting and wonderful!  Onward!

 

I Hurt My Friend Today

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NaBloPoMo 2018:  What I’m Learning

Bummer, it’s no longer November 8.  Well, that’s the humbling kind of week it’s been.

I sat in a meeting with a friend today.  I expressed a perception and opinion about an issue on which she and I have divergent perspectives.  It was early morning (not my best time of day), and I was still emotionally hung over from yesterday.  I spoke up more and louder than usual and may have been a bit aggressive—not toward her or anyone personally, but about my opinion.

Afterward I asked her, “Was I too bitchy?”  I was querying her impressions of how my words and expressions landed on others.  Turns out I had really hurt her personally, and I had no idea.  The fantastic news is this friend shares my values of honesty, empathy, and open communication, so we talked it through in the afternoon.  Even though we had discussed the issue before, today we took more time.  We each listened hard and heard, more clearly than before, details about how decisions were made and how messages were received and perceived.  We dug deeper into underlying snags in relationships between groups, the culture and mindset of team members, and the dynamics that basically hamstrung everybody’s best efforts in the situation.

In the end we agreed that we’re all doing the best we can, and we also have a lot to learn from one another.  We acknowledged that there is room for everybody to own their shit a little more, and that calling a ‘my bad’ and ‘do-over’ of some parts may be the best way to make amends and move forward with more trust and cohesion.  We agreed that we could all benefit from more conversation, acknowledgement, transparency, empathy, attention to people’s feelings and mindset, and mutual understanding.  We brainstormed about what that all might look like; I got kinda excited.

At the end of the conversation we congratulated ourselves on both our courage to give each other some hard feedback, and how we were able to listen with love and generosity of spirit.  Maybe it was easier because we are friends.  But it’s the practice when it’s easy that prepares us for when it’s hard, right?  I’m so proud of us; we really lived into our best relationship potential today.  We walked our talk.  Nobody witnessed it, but we know what we did.  [fist bump, high five emojis]

Here’s to friends holding each other accountable for the consequences of our words and actions, and upholding each other to be our best selves. I wish you all more friends like this.

Rally

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NaBloPoMo 2018:  What I’m Learning

In my first practice it was common for whole families to be my patients.  Grandparents, parents, children, grandchildren, cousins, and other webbed relations.  My fondest memories of those years revolve around witnessing the love, tension, and ultimate cohesion of these complex units of humanity.

One day Grandma came for a routine follow up visit.  We reviewed her blood pressure, glucose, and cholesterol numbers.  She wanted to lose some weight.  Everything was stable, but something seemed off.  I could not put my finger on it, and when I asked if everything was okay she said yes.  This scenario repeated maybe once or twice more over some months, and slowly we agreed she was depressed, though I’m not sure if I ever used that word.  There was no trigger, no event.  She had not had a history of depression.  She was just down, she did not know why, and she could not make it go away.

Grandma came from a culture and a generation that did not feel comfortable doing talk therapy.  She was also reticent to take prescription anti-depressants, even if they might help her feel better.  But she was happy to see me more regularly, just so I could keep track of her medical problems and make sure she was okay.  We reviewed the same list each time: fatigue, low mood, anhedonia.  No suicidality, biometrics stable.

Sometimes I would also see Son, Daughter-in-law, or Granddaughter.  I would ask them how Grandma was doing.  They never used the word ‘depressed,’ but they described how she was ‘kind of down,’ ‘sad,’ ‘going through a hard time.’  And then they would tell me what they were doing about it.  Someone would always be at Grandma’s house, keeping her company.  Sister would invite her out to lunch.  Granddaughter would take her out shopping.  Everybody attended to her just a little more, rallying around her, and nobody ever talked about why.

Grandma herself rallied, and her depression lifted over time.  In Chinese the expression for this is equivalent to having ‘walked out’ of it, like depression is a long tunnel in the mountain.  What a privilege to bear witness to this phenomenon—the family saw Grandma walking in a dark place, and they moved in a little closer, each with their own candle, lamp, or torch.  They helped light her way, and they all walked out with her together.

I had a shit day today, mostly of my own making.  Cramming in too many things, all scheduled too close together, trying to do too much, falling down on multiple levels, and adversely affecting multiple people around me.  I almost bailed on a chance to be with an amazing group of people tonight, out of exhaustion and self-loathing.  But these were my friends and I had not seen many of them in several months.  I felt quite listless at the beginning of dinner, not unlike I imagine Grandma felt.  But as I communed with my tribe, reconnected, and met a new friend, I started to feel better.  The yummy duck helped, too.  They could intuit a shadow on me.  And with gentleness and respect for boundaries, my friends rallied around me.  It was not pity or sympathy.  It was genuine empathy and wishes for my well-being.  So I rallied, too.

Things feel overwhelming more often now than before.  The anger, bickering, blaming, and self-righteousness I see, hear, and feel all around (and within) me really gets under my skin—ha, literally, I guess.  I know this will never be a permanent state; I will feel better tomorrow.  It’s also an interesting opportunity to observe how I’m walking the self-care talk—including the self-compassion part.  Fascinating.

Well friends, that’s what’s on my mind tonight.  My patients save me by teaching me.

I’m going to bed.  So I can rally some more tomorrow, and maybe help someone else do the same.