A random collection of Saturday musings
“The cure for depression is action”
I think I’ve had this phrase cross my brain more than any other in the past two years. Yvonne Chuniard’s poignant and simple assessment of both the state of our world and the way through rings true to almost every part of me. Waking up and hitting the ground running has been my default for quite some time. I enjoy being busy, I enjoy cleaning my dirty dishes or washing my floors. I find my challenge is sitting. Sitting with my thoughts, sitting with shortcomings, sitting with the time it takes to find understanding in anything. I was built to make quick decisions, and I really appreciate that about myself. Decisiveness however is a two edged sword. It often comes off as careless or prideful, being talented at it is the ability to triage outcomes quickly and attempt to do no harm when the clock is fighting your freedom to decide. That’s not what I’m here for however.
Just as many of us, without knowing it, deploy our coping mechanisms and survival skills in situations that do not warrant them, it is important to be able to tell my brain, no Fitz, you are safe, you can sit in these thoughts. Chew them over and find not just the quickest decision, find the truth. Reach out to others to mull things over. You can even find this in the cadence of my speech, the way I write, in sprawling galloping sentences that for as long as I’ve been submitting papers have come back covered in scarlet reminders of what a run-on sentence is. So without consciously knowing it I’ve been diving into the things I am truly terrible at, yoga, meditation, baking bread, things you cannot rush the process of. Things that are inherently patient, inherently out of step with the demands of our modern life.
Here is where I reach out to you, my community for suggestions of the things you love that slow you down. How do you center? I want to start reading books not with the hunger of the finale in my mind, but in allowing the beauty of language to unfold before my eyes.
This is a two part entry.
I realize from the feedback that I need to send out a little reassurance with my posts. I often am guilty of representing just one facet of me. The emotion driving the prose, and the simple fact is I’m more complex than that. I’m doing well, yes I struggle with knowing just a few people here, being the odd man out. But I also relish in it. It’s such a beautiful opportunity to grow and learn about people who I would have zero chance of meeting without this journey. When I do feel lonely also, I have a pocket full of friends, family and loved ones (the lines between which I intentionally blur, a wise and beautiful friend recently reminded me of the myth of separation) who send me love and reassurance daily. Thank you for that. Thank you for showing up, thank you for caring about my well being. As someone who is terrible at accepting praise, love and support, it truly means the world to me to see a text or a photo or hear your voice across the ocean. You are what keeps me moving, what makes me grin despite myself. So keep ‘em coming. Keep sending suggestions of things to read, playlists of music that reminds you of me, and know that if there is anything you need, if I can pull it off, I’m here for you. Ask me for things to upload, do you want more photos? More actual stories? Cultural insights? I can’t say it’ll be good, but I’m happy to try.
SIKE three part!
I guess the thing that comes to mind has been the change in my shifting from how desperate and rough the clinics and hospitals are here, to how they are driven by teams of compassionate people who make due with rough under resourced facilities in the most incredible way. They improvise, they adapt, they are truly incredible in their ability to show up for their patients despite barriers and as well as any US system I’ve been a part of. Even more so considering what they are fighting uphill against. I will never again complain about the hospitals I’ve worked in, the resource shortages pallor in comparison to what this team is able to stretch for their patients (Damn are we a bunch of spoiled brats comparatively). What they can squeeze from a proverbial stone astounds me. I’m so excited to learn from them and become more resilient as a human. This is everything I love about medicine, everything I love about education. Driven not by what you have, but by how deeply you can dig.
My floors are dry now so I’m going to sign off but as always I leave you with love, peace, and happiness and look forward to the next time I can wrap each and every one of you in a tight hug. If I can implore you to do one thing before I go, watch the next sunset you can, they have more to teach us than we know.
Love,
Fitz
