I Wish I Was Better For You

Posted on December 11, 2023 by Catherine Cheng, MD

Dear Person I Knew Before,

Looking back, I wish I had been better for you. When you knew me, I was young in the work. I was well trained and I understood the task in my thinking mind. But I had (still have) a lot to learn about relating to people who are different from me, people whose behavior I don’t understand easily, who rub me the wrong way at first.

I wonder if you felt disliked by me? I hope I was professional/amiable enough, but I know I wear my feelings on my face. My tone and words can be terse and even cold when I feel disconnection. I hope you still felt respected, attended to, even cared for. If not, I own it. I remember you because I knew it at the time–knew I was not my best with you, and yet I could not help it. I had only yet begun the inner work journey that has brought me to today.

I know so much better now. I am so much more self-aware, humble, honest, and accountable. I withhold most judgment now, unlike before. I engage with difference now in openness and curiosity, and take few things personally. I am so much more peaceful inside. Even when I get triggered these days, it’s much less intense and lasts minutes, maybe hours, instead of days. I am far better at asking direct questions to clarify meaning, calling out disrespect, and connecting better or amicably exiting a poor relationship. I don’t let things hang or fester like before.

If/when we meet again, I welcome the chance to reconnect and apologize. I want to show you how much I have learned and grown since you knew me, since I had my potentially negative impact on you. I was doing the best I could, with what I had, at that time. I still am. There is no substibute for experience and time.

Please know that my relationship with you, through its challenge and difficulty, has been the pebble in my shoe making me more mindful, more intentional. I thank you for crossing my path, showing me my deficits and calling me to address them. I hope my future relationships will show my progress, so that even if I cannot make direct amends to you, I can avoid doing similar harm to others. You have made me better.

Wishing you peace, and people in your life who show up better for you than I did. I will stay on my path, and if we meet again, I will smile.

NaBloPoMo 2023 Debrief

Posted on November 30, 2023 by Catherine Cheng, MD

*sigh* All done, my friends.

She sits back, breathes deeply, and looks around in satisfaction.
The house is no more of a pigsty than usual.
Meals were planned and cooked, laundry completed, child chaufferred, workout routine maintained (other than during travel). AND SHE GOT TO BED ON TIME MOST NIGHTS. That may have been the greatest accomplishment–the first NaBlo in 9 attempts that did not cost 30 days of sleep and physical health. WIN.
Another month of daily extemporaneous writing in the books.

Observations, Learnings, Applications

After all this time, I can finally admit and embrace that I am a Night Writer. I can put down anybody else’s advice to get up early and do it in the morning, or even during my days off. That’s just not me. All-nighters are not me, either. My ideal writing time seems to be around 9-11pm. Looking ahead, this feels like a doable schedule for the book. Like workouts, I can aim for 5 nights a week and plan ahead each weekend, so there is routine with flexibility, and long term consistency.

I feel self-conscious writing too much about myself–my own stories, thoughts, feelings, ‘musings’. Navel gazing. Who wants to read that every day? But this desire to connect my own experiences to others’, to make meaning and touch on a larger, more resonant scale–where can I start but with my own lived history? And the ‘lesson’ parts can really come across as pedantic, no? So, I can look for ways to improve my storytelling and delivery, be both personable and knowledgeable–relatable. I want the book to feel like the best clinical encounter–query, intake, reflection, suggestion, action plan, follow up–connecting, learning, empowering, and always forward moving.

Practice makes better. The words are in there, and they don’t have to be fully formed or organized before pulling them out to the page or keyboard. Like icing out of a squeeze bag, ideas and expressions will take shape depending on temperature, pressure, movement, and tip. But regardless of the conditions, output is needed. It can be reshaped later; I just need to sit down regularly and squish it out in the first place. I’ got this.

Though I chose the 30 NaBlo topics a bit haphazardly, they were all meaningful, and the order in which some of them emerged felt organic as I wrote each day. If I were to continue, I’d add curiosity, kindness, and generosity to the list. Redundant, I know. The longer I write this blog, the more times I repeat myself and refer back to pieces I wrote years ago. And it’s okay. It’s just taken me this long to convince myself that I have something useful and relevant, something timeless to contribute, a thing worth amplifying. I had to build up the confidence, make it strong and solid. Now I’m ready.

Writing a book will be different from a blog, and now I have accumulated enough of both discipline and surrender to let some good writing flow from the deeper places. An image of volcanic magma emerges–not spewing in great explosions with atmosphere-darkening ash clouds, but a slow, burbling ooze, hot a pliable, soft and layered, unstoppable yet unobtrusive, solidifying over time to create new islands, smooth and round rather than jagged, places where we can stand together quietly in wonder and explore, from whence new perspective and understanding may grow.

Many thanks to all who have followed along this month. Could the post titles have been more boring? Overall it was not my best published output, but the intent all along was to use this month as personal and public writing lab for book work prep. It feels to me like time and energy well spent, worth the effort, and work I will refer back to often. Now to find the new routine, book and blog juxtaposition/integration? A fun new fork on the writing trail, yay! Or ooo, maybe a convergence. I trust it will all work out, unfold, and emerge in good time and space. Can’t wait.

Acceptance

Posted on November 25, 2023 by Catherine Cheng, MD

Two plutonium bombs in different locations. The only way to save the world is to defuse them at exactly the same 1/10th of a second, but only after the detonation key is deactivated from yet another location. And that cannot happen until the countdown has started, which gives the hero team fifteen minutes to get it all done.
“Okay,” badass girl hero says.
No denial, no, “That can’t be, you’ve got to be kidding me, there must be another way.”
Just, “Okay.”
And they get to it, one step at a time, improvising, committed together and flexing around obstacles one after another. In typical action movie fashion, the villain dies a karmically satisfying death, the heroes prevail, justice is served, and the world never knows it was miliseconds away from nuclear annihilation.
Props if you can name the movie. 😉

How do I do acceptance well already?
–I totally get it in my thinking mind; and when the thing I must accept is not emotionally charged, I adapt easily and take everything in stride. Flexibilty helps with this, and my life is generally smooth sailing.
–I’m better able now to recognize when I don’t actually fully accept something–when recognizing it intellectually is not enough to get to peace with it.
–When this happens, I can sit with the discomfort–accept it–and let is pass. I tell myself it’s normal and human to have a hard time with deep inner conflicts, that self-awareness in service of reflection, regulation, and more right action is a lifelong learning journey.

How could I do better?
–I need to find a better bridge between cognitive and emotional acceptance. I understand what is happening. I don’t like it, and get that I don’t have control. I recognize where I have agency and not. And yet, I still end up wallowing in irritation, anger, sadness, and resentment. Less frequently each year than the last, and less severely now than before, but sheesh, how long before I can just roll easier with it all and suffer less, FFS?
–Breathe breathe breathe. Maybe prayer? Writing definitely helps. Keep doing the work.
–Or (and?) just accept that this amount of mild to moderate pain and suffering is just par for the course? Huh.

How does society already do well at acceptance?

Is this mostly about inclusion? So many of my posts this month relate to identity, both individual and collective. No matter who you are or what there is about you, it seems easier now than ever to find those who will see, understand, accept, and even love you. They may not be physically local, but you can find literature, resources, and virtual communities to bond over almost anything, it seems. The caveat is that our culture is so emotionally charged right now, non-acceptance threatens to overtake and drive our collective in- and out-group encounters, dividing us more than uniting, making acceptance something we don’t even strive for anymore.

How could we all do better together?

Ask better questions. What is it that we need to do better at accepting, exactly? Facts? Fundamental disagreements? Conflicting values and goals? Shared ones? What questions will give us clarity on what is, and help us resist the urge to ignore, deny, dismiss, and minimize? How can we get to “Okay,” and move with calm and equanimity, peace and purpose, and even joy, toward what could be? What does “Okay” feel like, when/where have we felt it before, and how did we get there?

Maybe the first steps toward peaceful and productive acceptance, among others, are curiosity, non-judgment, and openness to learning. The primary reward and benefit of true, honest, cognitive and emotional acceptance, and what I long for most, is inner peace. I want this so much because I know that wherever and whenever I have inner peace about something, that peace lifts me. It exudes with a palpable force, and my impact on my surroundings is positive. When my innards are turbulent, conflicted, and agitated, I’m not the only one who suffers.
*sigh*
Onward. It is through the struggles that we grow.