An excellent and poignant piece by my big brother in medicine.
May we all strive for better transparency and clear communication, with more compassion and less fear, in all of our encounters, but between doctors and patients, especially.
Dear Paul & Joanne*,
I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you both for taking the time to meet me last week. You came out in the pouring rain, not for a lighthearted night of drinks and karaoke, but to talk charged politics with your tortured, melancholic, liberal friend. I hope it did not feel too burdensome, and that you would do it again.
It was quite the emotional evening for me, unsettling, sometimes uncomfortable, and also dominated by love. Joanne, we have known each other about 15 years, and I know you are not a fan of politics in general. Paul, I know you mostly through your witty holiday cards, and your occasional Facebook posts that often touch on politics. You lean right, it seems, about as much as I lean left. You gently called me out when I shared a Trump supporter-shaming video, reminding me to hold myself to a higher standard of discourse on all platforms. That is why I sought you out. When you engage, you exemplify the attitude toward political discourse that I aspire to.
I described to Joanne over the phone how distraught I had been since November, something akin to “watching the fabric of my generation’s social progress torn to shreds by a maniacally fomenting, double-machete-wielding narcissist.” You seemed genuinely surprised and curious—why did this election have such a profoundly tormenting effect on me? What made millions of people pour into the streets around the world in protest? I was incredulous at your incredulity, and yet I felt a mutual, loving acceptance between friends who only want each other to be happy and feel secure.
At dinner, I could tell that you both cared acutely about my distress, and wanted to help alleviate it. You reassured me that the worst case scenarios are highly unlikely to actually happen. You reminded me that hyperventilation and arm flapping are not productive energy expenditures. You gently encouraged me about the long, jagged, often meandering, and also inevitable path of social progress, and the importance of taking the long view.
I admit that I felt a little defensive at times, as if anything I said about the origins of my distress would be met with, “You’re overreacting,” and “You’re worried about nothing, please…” We later agreed that it is never helpful to invalidate someone’s emotional response to a stressor, regardless of whether or not we can relate. Paul, you are so well-read and convicted about your opinions. I did not see a point in arguing, as you did not seem interested in debate, and I left feeling disappointed that I had not presented a stronger defense of my liberal ideals. The whole exchange felt lopsided in favor of your position. But I did learn from your point of view, which was one of my primary objectives.
Most importantly, our conversation revived my mindfulness practice. You’re right—energy spent catastrophizing about a hell-on-earth future is energy wasted. As Michael J. Fox says (I paraphrase), “Don’t spend your time worrying, because if what you’re worried about actually happens, now you’ve lived it twice.” My energy is better spent in the present, attending to what is, rather than what I fear might be. And I feel justified in my shock and dismay at what is. In my opinion, Donald Trump has defiled the presidency and brought our politics to a new moral low that I could never have predicted. I don’t need to ‘go apeshit’ over the future, as there is plenty of wreckage to confront right now, not the least of which is our collective refusal to engage one another in civil discourse. I can center, ground, and focus, breathe deeply and engage, one step, one person, or one loving couple, at a time.
Last week Dan Rather wrote my heart on his Facebook page:
The threats, the lies, the willful disregard for the rule of law should be limited to the world of Hollywood caricature. To see this played out each night on the news, to read about ramblings and inconsistencies in justifications for actions that should never have been taken, is to see a moment of great peril for our nation.
I remain, however, an optimist. I see the swellings of civic engagement and action. I hear the voices of those who demand that this subversion of our national ideals shall not stand. I have covered social movements of the past, and never have seen one where so much power and numbers lie on the side of the opposition. This is a clash for the values of our nation. Our destiny is in our hands.
Our nation’s patchy, irregular social fabric may be strained to its limits today, and even torn in some places. But the threat of real disintegration has brought forth multitudes of weavers and quilters to repair and protect its integrity. I can acknowledge this ‘collateral beauty’ and contribute my part, through conversations like ours, to help mend the tapestry, and bend that moral arc of the universe more toward justice.
Thank you, my dear friends, for helping me train for this marathon. You hold me up and make me stronger. I hope I do the same for you.
Sincerely and with love,
Cathy
*Not their real names
My sister and brother-in-law run marathons. No, wait, they are elite marathon-running machines. By next weekend, they will have run 150 marathons between them in just a few years, including Ironmans and ultramarathons, in 39 states and at least 7 countries. They lead training groups for Team to End AIDS and enjoy a loyal following of running enthusiasts and friends. So you can imagine my honor when they recently told me, “You could totally run a marathon, Cathy. You’re already more fit than a lot people who start training.”
For a moment I actually considered it, because wouldn’t that be so cool, to enter that elite circle? Then I quickly remembered: I. Hate. Running. …For now. But it got me thinking recently–talking politics may be like marathon training. Some people really like it and do it well (by ‘well’ I mean they are informed, articulate, respectful, and engaging with people from all points of view—their discourse is elevated). They resemble my sister and brother-in-law: athletes who consistently perform at the top of their training, with few or no injuries, leading others to follow in similar aspirations.
Other people, however, would sooner feed themselves through a wood chipper than strap on a pair of running shoes, or engage in political discussions.
Most of us are somewhere in the middle, I suspect. I can run a few miles with my trainer if she makes me–the conversation and scenery distract me and the time goes by faster. And I know I can slow down or take a rest if I have to–it’s safe. But I have many other preferred exercise activities. Could we consider talking politics as the elite marathoning of communication? It is so hard to do well!
When I think of long distance running my mouth goes dry. I get short of breath and my knees hurt already. I feel the incredible slog, one heavy step after another–not at all like what I imagine my family feels, bounding weightlessly like antelopes toward their next PR. I experience a version of the fight-or-flight response, a visceral sensation of threat: I’ll have blisters everywhere, I’ll never make it to the end, they’ll have to carry me, I’ll have a heart attack and die!
Maybe some people have a similar reaction to politics? I don’t know enough, it’s too complicated. It’s overwhelming, I’ll look ignorant, people will judge and shame me before I can even finish a thought. It’s all so emotional, I can’t handle that, it will only escalate into conflict, my relationships will all be at risk, I’ll lose all my friends!
As you may have read, I have been trying to get some conservative friends to engage face to face. I am genuinely curious about their points of view; I want to understand. I want to practice my skills—curiosity, openness, empathy, identifying shared interests, withholding judgment. Two invitations were initially met with a non-response. After a follow up call or two, I am scheduled to meet one set of friends for dinner this week, and the other said he was too busy. I feel like I’m dragging them out running when they would much rather play golf or go bowling.
I have realized: we don’t all have to keep up with every day’s new political freak shows. We don’t all need to be the debate champions of our particular ideology. Not everybody has to be a marathoner.
HOWEVER:
We all need exercise. The body is built to move. Regular physical activity, as we all know, reduces our risks of obesity, diabetes, and heart disease. Did you also know it can decrease depression, dementia, and even cancer? So pick your sport—just do some kind of movement every day!
Similarly, even if we don’t all talk politics, we all need effective communication skills, especially in the arenas of conflict resolution, negotiation, parenting (which encompasses them all), and the like. We are social beings—we only survive by cooperating and living well within our tribes, and by tribes living well among one another. That can only happen if we practice getting along.
So if you’re not a runner/marathoner, what do you do? What is your thing, how often do you engage, and what keeps you coming back? If you hate talking politics, how else are you already a great communicator?
Maybe you’re a natural at getting your toddler/tween/teen to see the wisdom of the rules and getting their buy-in to follow them.
Maybe you can always help your boss and coworker iron out their differences because you can understand both sides (are you in HR?).
Maybe you like to debate the merits of the Marvel Comic Universe vs. DC—and you could argue both sides because it’s just more interesting that way.
We all have areas where we shine, where we contribute to the tribe through words and actions.
I have picked up some tips along the way:
So even if you’re not an elite running machine like my sister and brother-in-law, or you’re not your community’s foremost political pundit, know that your other training matters.
I may complete a marathon someday… Never say never. For now I’m happy to stick with my TRX, kettle bells, 7 minute and Betty Rocker workouts (once again, I have no financial interests in any of these businesses). I appreciate my family’s invitation to run, and I respectfully decline at this time. Similarly, I will try to be more mindful about inadvertently pressuring people to talk politics. It’s never meant to be adversarial, only a bid for connection—I’m looking for training buddies!
I don’t need everybody to talk politics. But I do need everybody to practice excellent communication, especially in political discourse.
We all need that.
Healing Through Connection 