Category Archives: writing

NaBloPoMo, Here We Come!

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The Cubs have won game 5 of the World Series.  Halloween is tomorrow.  In two days I will commit to publishing a post a day for 30 days.  Woo hoooooooo, bring it!!  It’s been a year since I tried this the first time, and I almost made it—26, I believe, and a few may have been reblogs of others’ work…  I felt embarrassed about the ‘failure.’  But then I got through the A to Z Challenge by the skin of my teeth this past April (last post at 11:30pm on April 30th), and that was much more fun.  So I’m trying again, yaaay!

I launched this blog 18 months ago to address physician-patient relationship.  I aimed to discuss communication, self-awareness, and emotional intelligence, as tools to rekindle that trusting, continuous bond that so many of us miss in medicine today.  Since then I have come around to the original theme occasionally, but not nearly as often as I had intended.  So I take this annual blogging event as an opportunity to refocus and try something new.

For Na Bo Po Mo 2016, I intend to write 30 letters to patients.  Some will echo routine conversations; others may reflect my musings on this vocation.  I may examine observations on the state of medicine today.  Or other things, who knows?  I will at least attempt to convey my deep love for the work and the people.  Maybe I can help fellow physicians and patients connect, or perhaps lend some perspective and awareness.

There is a lightness to trial and error.  When you try something new, you make a commitment, set an endpoint, and decide how you will measure the outcome.  But you don’t have to attach yourself to a particular outcome, just the process.  I commit to try my best and have fun, and see what comes out, in fewer than 500 words per post.  I wonder where this will lead?  Maybe it will turn into a monthly newsletter for my own patients?  A book?  A column somewhere?  Anything is possible!  I’ll never know until I try, and I like the openness of the adventure.

I hope you will visit often, and leave your thoughtful comments.

Let the journey begin!

 

Holding the Space for: Fear

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Here is my best explanation for my unintended blogging hiatus: I’m afraid.

Afraid that the A to Z Challenge was such a success (as assessed by me), that nothing I write hence forth will measure up. Afraid that I used up all my good ideas in the challenge and I have nothing more useful to say.  Afraid that if I keep writing, I will only repeat the same tired ideas, and become noise.

I am also afraid of disapproval. I feel called to write about sensitive topics (I know, this is the third time I’ve brought it up—it’s coming, I promise, I’m setting the stage here), and I fear backlash from readers.  I’m afraid of being attacked—for both my position on a given issue, as well as for my effort to consider all sides.  “How can you hold this view, you must be ignorant and stupid!”  Or, “How can you call yourself a (fill in the blank group) while you allow (the opposing group) space on your blog to promote their ignorant and stupid views?”  I want to do the right thing, which is allow—even invite—opposing opinions.  But I am afraid of losing control of the whole process, of getting sucked into verbal wars over opinions and beliefs.

On April 28, at 12:15am, I commented on Emily Heath’s post, “On Restrooms, Gender, and Fear.”  It’s the 11th comment.  Rereading it now, I cringe at how condescending it sounds, even as I meant to express empathy and connection.  Two readers replied in opposition, one who asked me if I was insane and wrote, “How insulting.”  For two days I debated whether to reply, and finally decided against it, as I unilaterally concluded that both of these people were likely not looking for an ongoing conversation.  I realized that while I thought of my comment as speaking directly to Emily, I was, in fact, writing to her entire audience.  It made me think twice about expressing my opinions publically, and I learned an important lesson about writing for public consumption:  Comments are not the best space to express my opinion fully, and I never know how anyone will respond.  And, I should probably not write about emotional topics in the middle of the night.

Still, I feel a need to contribute my voice to the important conversations. And while I am agitated that it’s taken me so long to get started again, I see now that I needed this time to work out a plan.  I needed a pause to regroup and distill my purpose.  I needed space to define my focus: not taking sides on the issues, but rather exploring nuances of idea exchange.  I may write something that offends someone.  It will not be intentional.  I may need to field some personal attacks, or attacks on my ideas.  That’s okay, I can decide how I will manage each on an individual basis, and on my terms.  This blog is my space, after all.  Most importantly, though, I have a wide and deep network of people who can help me monitor my words and provide perspective on the words of others.  I’ve got this.

Impatience with myself has disrupted my sleep and distracted my days these last weeks. Why could I not just pull it together and write something already?  Now I know, I was Holding the Space for my fears.  I knew something different and significant was coming around the corner, and I had to take a breath before treading this new path.  Part of me has worried about what readers think of my absence—perhaps sensing my fear and hesitation, losing confidence in my writing, as I may have, for a while?  Maybe I’m just projecting.  And just as I wondered if I would ever come back, I found this piece on bravery by Glennon Doyle Melton, who writes the blog Momastery.  She writes, in reference to people yelling for two kids to dive from a cliff into the ocean:

Over time I have come to believe that brave does not mean what we think it does. It does not mean “being afraid and doing it anyway.” Nope. Brave means listening to the still small voice inside and DOING AS IT SAYS. Regardless of what the rest of the world is saying. Brave implies WISDOM. Brave people are not simply those who JUMP every time. They do not necessarily “do it anyway.” Brave people block out all the yelling voices and listen to the deepest voice inside the quietest, stillest place in their heart. If that voice says JUMP, they jump. And if that voice says TURN AROUND – they turn around, and they hold their head high. Often the one who turns around shows GREAT BRAVERY, because she has been true to herself even in the face of pressure to ignore her still, small voice and perform for the crowd.

Brave is: To Thine Own Self Be True. And Brave parents say: I trust you, little one – to Be Still and Know. I’ll back you up.

My still small voice was saying, “Wait, wait for it. You’ll know when you’ve got it, and then you’ll move.”  Now I know, I’ve got it, and I’m moving.  I’m excited to see where the next leg of this blogging journey takes me, and what I will learn along the way.

Playing My Part

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Hello again, friends! Feels good to be back…  3 weeks since my last post of the Blogging A to Z Challenge, holy cow!  At the end I thought, ‘Hey, I can do this!  One post a week, no sweat!’  …And then crickets…  How Fascinating!

Though I have not posted in three weeks, I have written like mad, mostly journaling. Today I suddenly realized how much I have missed corresponding with my friends on paper.  How long it’s been since I wrote by hand to someone other than myself!  As I sat this afternoon and wrote, on stationery, with colored gel pens and stickers, to some of my best friends, a tremendous sense of connection and gratitude filled me.  Much of this post was born of those spontaneous letters to my fellow conscious, cosmic journeyers.

Given the awesome support network with which I am blessed, I feel an impulse to do something more with my writing—to amplify and project all this love and connection back out onto the world for some positive purpose.  But how can my words possibly make a difference?

The A to Z Challenge showed me that I have the capacity to write often and much—and to produce better-than-crap results! It also taught me that I can take more risks with my writing, in both format and content.  Now I want to take my writing a little more seriously, lend more credence to my own abilities.  In the framework of Simon Sinek’s Golden Circle, I know my Why: to cultivate positive and constructive relationships in every realm of life.  This blog is another What to my Why.  But since the Challenge ended, I struggle with the How.

I think night and day about so many things:

  • My own individual relationships—spousal, parental, sibling, other familial; colleague, patient, student, friend, stranger.
  • Relationships I observe between others, and their impact on those of us around them.
  • Healthcare and medicine in general, and specifically at my own institution—miracles, bureaucracies, opportunities and pitfalls.
  • Leadership and organizational culture—examples of effective and ineffective models, and what makes them so.
  • Social justice and discourse—with an urge for movement toward acceptance, inclusion, mutual understanding, and cooperation.
  • Education, parenting and role modeling—integrity, walking my talk, inside and out.
  • Physician self-care and care of one another—individual and system issues, and their interface.

What am I called to affect? I live a conscious life in all these realms, or at least I try.  I have opinions and positions on various issues, some which I hold with deep conviction.  And I struggle with whether and how to express them—for what purpose?

Finally, I have an idea. Though I have opinions and positions that I hold strongly, I plan NOT to use this blog to promote those views.  There are plenty of people doing that already, a multitude of voices trying to win one another over, or, more precisely, trying to drive one another into silence with ever louder, brasher, and more vociferous language.  My voice can be one of moderation—of collaboration, connection—maybe a bridge for a few who seek one…  Or maybe just one stilt among many others, helping to hold up one such bridge.  I will strive not to criticize or proselytize, not to berate, blame, shame, incite, or inflame; and also not to concede or abstain.  I can, at the same time, hold my positions with conviction and passion, and also listen for the convictions and passions of others.  I can practice curiosity and openness.  I can question, explore, Hold the Space, and stand strong and tall, without feeling threatened.  I seek others who strive to do the same.

Voices of moderation are muted these days. The great orchestra of discourse has lost balance and harmony.  The most strident strings, horns, and drums play for their own promotion, rather than as a contribution to a symphonic collective.  The resulting dissonance makes us want to cover our ears and run away.  In order for a symphony to engage and inspire, each player must not only know her own part and play it well, but also listen carefully for other players and their movement.  Maybe we can all do this a little better: maintain our own distinct voices, while integrating with those around us.  The best orchestra functions as one entity, breathing and moving in a quintessentially integrated fashion.

My instrument is language. The past seven weeks have shown me my part in the online verbal orchestra.  This blog is where I will practice, record, and offer my contribution, not to overpower any others’ words, but to meet, align, and resonate.  The harmony of consonant contrast plays on, somewhere.  Maybe I can help find and amplify it, so more of us may enjoy the music of life among one another.