running

i stepped out of that cave of a dance studio around dusk.  the air was heavy and cool.  the clouds were backlit with brilliant yellows and pinks, and with smokey greys.  i hadn't heard anything out of the ordinary, as i was concentrating on stepping around the deep pools of water in the parking lot to not get my shoes wet.  then i noticed nails on the pavement.  and suddenly, there it was.  short hair, caramel, long pointed nose.  lean, with mouth open and tongue lolling about.  uncollared. unafraid.
it looked me in the eye, then trotted towards another dancer walking to her car, as if it belonged to her.  i was startled, but i figured someone just let it off its leash. i turned and got in my car.  as i was backing out of my space, i saw it dart across my front, then out of my line of sight.  i was irritated. the last thing i wanted to do was to kill a dog on accident after dance class.  i braked and rolled slowly to avoid crushing it, if it was still there.  then, i saw it loping away from my car in my rearview mirror.  relieved.  went down the driveway.
as i started picking up speed down the street, i suddenly saw her again in my rearview, running after my car and going into a full on sprint.  it was not the face of a rabid dog, nor a playful one. her eyes were piercing and dark.  as if to say, i am running too.  take me with you.

swing state

I have been thinking about my grieving process.  What constitutes healthy, mature reactions? How do I prevent unhealthy reactions?
My lack of resilience gives me great anxiety, ironically.
But I think this time will be different.
I am nearly crossing the line over which women are designated "advanced maternal age."  Aside from my inconceivably crushing debt, I have nothing holding me back - house payments, children, involvement in politics.  Though I am sure the future ramifications are far more serious than I imagine them now...how can I stay silent through these times?
During morning report last week, the director felt it was appropriate to comment on the election.  He said something to the effect of, "so, all those minorities who are saying they are scared for their lives, they should quit their bitchin and moanin, because that isn't really a thing." 
Right then, right in that moment I saw my shackles, my shame.  Because as I knew instantaneously I should say something, I saw my future fellowship taken away from me, my name slandered from ever practicing in the area...career ruin.
If I could go back in time, I would say something.  Anything.  Just, something to let the room know that this is not right.  This is not okay.  This is the type of attitude that should be a crime to perpetuate amongst future healthcare providers.  This is a gentleman who is so completely ignorant of his bias that he can't see any other worldview than his own.  We CAN'T let this be normalized for doctors in training.
See something, say something.  See something, say something.
What do I have to lose?
Everything.
Say something.

meta

i have a friend who can be....how to put this gently....strongly opinioned, about our mutual friends.
more specifically,  strongly negatively opinioned about the life choices of others.
having known this person for so long, knowing the family background and traumas, i think i get it.  i think i get where the feeling is coming from.
at the same time, it makes me very nervous.  "but for the grace of god," you know?  all that.
i want to think i am the kind of person that loves my friends for who they are at their core.  whether fiercely ambitious, emotionally damaged (and/or damaging), or happy to be a shadow.
if feminism is the idea that both men and women have equal freedom to make the choices they want, and i identify with that, shouldn't i extend the same courtesy to our most close and important friends?
i've often wondered if it would ever be a good idea to share this with her.  how would you put this, without sounding like you are judging someone for being judgemental?
who am i to say anything?
but sometimes...when it comes up....all i want to do is throw my hands up and say, give her a break.  she's living her life. let's just be there for her.
i dunno.  is that so wrong?

it is never as bad as it could be

it felt right to tell you, at that very moment, the thing that was on my mind.  even though in my heart i knew it was not wise.  even though i had not carefully considered the consequences.
there was a beacon, dim over the dark hills, but we continue along the shore, the wind whipping at our back.
maybe it will be warm again, but for now it's only me in this eddy, swirling, contained chaos fucking with my train of thought.

what it is

the first thing that comes to my mind is the softness of his arms.  the way they formed around me, perfect, tailor-made.  solid.  when i rested my lead-heavy head onto his chest, becoming enveloped by the warmth, vibration, heartbeat.  the hair and air and skin and muscles and tendons and bones melting away into nothing.  becoming distilled into something primal, living in the seconds between the seconds within the seconds.  civilizations born and rising and dying on the outside and it would not be bad or okay but just be.  a transcendent mediation that would only be broken with a human sigh, or a gentle borborigmo, or perhaps the start of soft, soft snoring.

dive

the van stopped at the end of a dirt road, off the main highway, by a chain link fence.  i remember getting out of the vehicle, towel in hand, breathing in the muggy, amniotic atmosphere.  we slipped through a chain-link gate, haphazardly shackled, and into the jungle.  the path was narrow but well-worn, darkly muddy, plastered with rotting black leaves.  i tried to focus on protecting myself from the myriad of mosquitoes that descended upon us hiking the path like starving children.  keeping my eyes to the ground, i noticed that the leaves were all uniformly angled...black triangles.  it was several meters before i realized they were hundreds of thousands of single butterfly wings.  i picked one up in curiosity.  the body was completely torn off; only the wings remained, black as obsidian, streaked with shards of iridescent blue.  no idea what species this was.  the macabre path was paved with them.  What was eating these butterflies, i wondered outloud.  The question hung in silence.  The guys didn't seem to care much.  They were as foreboding to them as the carpet in a casino. We hiked, the sunlight oozed through the canopy in patches, and the jungle rustled. Despite the humidity, a shiver went up my spine.
The path eventually broke into a small, picturesque cove, with crystal white sand.  Straight out of a postcard. Not a soul within shouting distance.  The clear sea was as hot as a sauna, the air above the waterline shimmering with energy.  I followed them down the sand to a large pile of boulders that lay at the base of the cliff and we started to climb with hands and feet.  The tall, slippery jet-black rocks interrupted the path with gapes so wide it seemed we would fall through and end up like James Franco in that terrible hiking movie.  We all slipped more than once, with a cry then a sigh of relief.
At the top, through the dense brush was a human-cut path.  And at the very edge of the cliff, the precipice: the cove, the ocean, the glittering horizon.  the heat of the land beat from below, and the sun from above.  a hundred feet or so below, you could see the rocks and fish below the blue surface.
i stood a foot from the edge, taking in the horizon.  At that height the world stretched out before me, endless, mysterious, wonderful.  time stood still.  there was neither the regrets of the past, nor worries of the present living within my head and heart.  only the infinite blue sky, and the kingdom of the sun, the lush forests, and the shimmering heat of the ocean water.  the humid air like molasses.  the infinite scenarios racing through my minds eye.  striking the rocks on my way down crept into my mind. perhaps never coming up after hitting the water.

i remember the end of the falling.  it was like a roller coaster, the inertia of my internal organs finally succumbing to gravity and pulling my nerves and veins and fascia down, down, down to the core of the earth, dragging my stomach with it.  everything became a blur of green and blue.  then, hitting the water, as warm as my blood, and feeling the salinity in my nasal cavities, feeling myself curve into a fetal position, the bubbles of my entry into the sea pushing me back and back towards the surface.

then, surfacing. gasping.  treading. buzzing...

getting back

as my training period in central california comes to a close, i've realized that a lot of my unhappiness and unrest comes from being so tunnel-visioned.  the "light at the end of the tunnel" certainly puts most of these struggles ("struggles") into perspective.

i want to think that i will come away from residency a little bit more kind.  even though i've had jobs and some (albeit very unique) life experience prior to choosing this profession, i realize that some of the baggage of my past that i'd refused to address turned again and again into small fires that smoldered behind me, dissolving bridges into smoke.  but as i learn to forgive and to nurture, i experience that universal, cliche-sounding truth: that you cannot love others until you love yourself.
my heart is so full at the moment.  i have never felt more content.  even reacting to things like not getting along with people at work, or doing something for my patient that was not evidence based, or feeling like i am just never enough -- these seem to fade more and more.  the storms that one creates in their minds, completely driven by nothing other than self-criticism and self-loathing.  to be able to step back, let all that go, immerse oneself in love and creativity.  like the entire world is open to me (even though i know it is but a fraction of a fraction).  how privileged i feel....!
i am grateful to live in a time, in a geographic location, where people can feel safe to explore their personalities and preferences, where they can feel empowered to speak up for the benefit of their families and communities. 
i am grateful i have the resources, physical and not, to drift seamlessly between cultures, cliques, environments.  daily i meet patients who were not and will never be living with that type of privilege.  i feel deep humility.  who am i to deserve these wonderful things?  (and i can't even get some diagnoses straight...)

i heard one of my pregnant patients, at 9 months, was in an MVA and had a pole go through her chest.  both her and her baby boy are alive.  incredible.  i live in an age where an event like that is not a death sentence.  that is mind-blowing.

i had my heart broken in the worst way (the worst way in my own limited personal experience, haha).  but from there i had the courage to continue my training and to pursue a second boarding.  everything about this career has been humbling, but in the best way.  it's given me meaning.  it's helped me realize that though others strive for fame, fortune, reputation...that's just not me.  and that's okay.  people need the background players as much as they need the visionaries and the leaders.  and there is nothing shameful about being the harmony to someone else's melody.

i think the difference about what's going on lately is getting to connect.  Connecting with people with whom i have no doubts, no worries about judgement, no shared past negative events.  sparks of joy  in the most mundane.  getting to dance again.  exploring medical knowledge and ideas with little fear of repercussion.  it is never the same as the friend-cocoon i grew up with....though in a way, it is far more freeing.  i used to be so resentful about not having that safe friend-family.  it took me a while to realize that permanence is not a prerequisite for family.

i don't want to analyze too much, just enough so that when the next rough patch comes, i can read this and remember: yes, yes life is good.  and if i am kind, i will be enough.