Thread

 I only have words for you today. 

Life is complicated. Sometimes I yearn for change while fearing it all in the same breath. 

Someone reminded me of a poem this week. It was about the thread that weaves the events and memories of our lives together. It's about what guides our decisions, our ambitions, and even our fears at times. 

It was a reminder. Sometimes the external shine, the dirt, the stains, the scars-they are important and can be distracting at the same time. I know my life is what I have, and I think about it most mornings. I want to love, to learn, to grow. I want to see my children smile so hard it hurts their little cheeks, I want to continue to adventure with Connell and know that having me around helps him love, learn, grow, and strive to be better- all things that he does for me. I want to support and love my mom, I want her to never feel without anything while she is with me. I want it to be enough. I want my brother to love himself without anyone else's approval because he deserves it.

I want to care for my fellow community members. I want to help the women and men who work, who raise others, who sweat, who cry- I want them to know that someone cares, that they are important, that their dreams can be real, even though sometimes it may seem that we don't deserve it or it's not on the menu for them. 

If you have similar dreams and aspirations, I want you to know that I believe in you and it's possible. Difficult moments are called living and if it's hard sometimes, then you're doing it right. 

Make sure your change is in the direction of progress and following your thread. It should not feed your fear, it should not help you run away from what's hard or what you "don't deserve" or are "not enough" for. 

Stay. Listen. Breath. Move Forward. I believe in you. 

It is okay.

 Damn. 

We have aged this year. 

I wonder how we will reflect on today. When we talk to our grown children and grandchildren years into the future, what will we tell them we learned? What will we remember?

Sweet moments first come to mind. Hearing my son through the wall as I mentally prepare to see a patient through a video visit. I hear him singing a song in spanish... a song I probably would have never known he knew. My next memory is the vision of Inez, our 4 yr old opening my door in the middle of a meeting to give me a kiss and hug my leg. Standing by the door with a sneaky smile, 2 braids in her hair, a mismatched shirt and leggings because she dresses herself these days. 

In retrospect, those sweet moments always come first. I think of my childhood and I have so many memorable, heart warming memories. The hard, the sad, and moments of hopelessness come as an afterthought now.

I want to remember both. Let's remind ourselves in our optimism that the grit is important. We learn from our hardships, our emotional unraveling, our loss of hope.

Those moments connect us, vulnerability humbles us, reminds us... reminds me...

 We are imperfect.

Life is unpredictable and messy.

Control is a story we tell ourselves to steady our feet. 

And time.

Time is a gift. 

Damn. What a year.

Heart. You have my full attention

Heart sounds, heart beat, beat, beat, beat, thump, boom, whoosh, whoosh...
call it what you hear. I fell asleep on the plush carpet that my 3 yr old has slept on more than he has on his toddler bed. I wonder why he prefers the solid ground and carpet over a mattress.
As I put the side of my head directly on the blue plush during our nap today, I heard it.
whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, over, over, and over again.
The rhythm of the fan in his room makes the sound of a heart beat when you lay your ear to the ground as he does every night. He even positions himself close to the fan itself.
I'm not sure if this is actually what it is that gets him to prefer the carpet over the bed.
It reminded me of an article I just read on the heart- the sounds it makes, its rhythm.
I won't review the entire thing here- it made me cry, it tugged at my heart strings, and it made me realize that I get to listen to people's heart almost every day.
I was reminded of how special this was. I get to hear their rhythm, its speed. A mother, father, child, or best friend could have gotten solace from this sound before, and here I am- with no particular relation to this person and I ask to hear their heart beat. I may hear it again, someone else may hear it, or it may never be heard again. It's a glimpse in a moment in time.
It is a reminder for me and maybe for someone else.
I will listen to your heart, even for a few seconds. I will listen closely, I will ignore the rushing thoughts in my mind of all else I have to do, of questions I need to ask you, of people I need to see.
You will have my undivided attention, I will listen to what it has to say, I will be thankful for what you have shared.
Thank you deeply.

Chin up

Freedom, Love & Devotion

Yet another year. 

I have nothing to explain. 

I have nothing to prove. 

I stand tall. 

I hold my chin up. 

This is my freedom.

It looks like this.

I love. 

But not always. 

It's hard to love sacrifice and loss.

When it's over and my feet ache, my soul is drained, my fingers search as they tuck under my pillow. My eyes burn from the sad air.

I arrive home to a gleaming smile, to a man I love with all I know. 

I arrive to a young mind whose small feet and round hands are owned by something larger than life. His hands wrap around my own and say "your hands are my hands mama." And I remember, I do love you sacrifice, I love you for what you give in return. This is my love.

Fill my insides with gratitude and truth.

I will give you my devotion. 

Having someone confide in you when they have trusted no one else in 30 years.

A patient that gives me hope and a smile when I just had to share life-changing news with them.

Seeing parents hold their newborn for the first time, beaming with love and awe.

Hearing from a teenager who was homeless until 3 months ago say to you "I want to do what you do when I grow-up." My trade is my devotion. 

This is who I am.

I stand tall.

I hold my chin up.

I carry your heart in my heart

When I was struggling to define who I was and who I wanted to be in this life I was overcome by incapacitating fear and anxiety of what I didn't know and couldn't control. A woman who was helping me through this difficult time asked me what kept the pieces of me together at this very trying time in my life. I couldn't describe it in words and I sat through therapy sessions in silence- not knowing what to say. One day an image of what that glue was sprung out of my insides as an image of this beautiful, strong, loving, caring, kind, and compassionate woman- it was my grandmother. With her warm heart and fierce eyes, she sat there smiling at me with her chin high radiating love long enough to wrap you up, turn you upside down, hug you and squeeze all your fears, sadness, and tragedy into nothing. And all of a sudden it all felt okay.

 I saw in my grandmother everything I needed to learn for myself and the kind of love I needed to learn to give myself. I now carry her heart in my heart and I believe this now more than ever. We lost this beautiful woman a few weeks ago and although there was a moment in my mind that felt like all my insides would fall apart, it didn't. Because she lives in me always now. And I know that she lives in so many of us. 

I have had the fortune to care for some individuals recently with her same strength, love of life, and unmeasurable gratitude. I thank you nana, and I thank you all who have continued to teach me how to cement the pieces of me together to appreciate most of my living days, love endlessly as best I can, and raise a beautiful little man with my husband- a man I love more than words can describe and who I am incredibly grateful for. That's all I have for words right now.

I carry your heart with me. I carry it in my heart. - E. E. Cummings

(Thank you Annie)

How I got here

When I was 13, I lived with my aunt, uncle, and 3 cousins for a short period of time. That was one of the first times in my life that I felt derailed, lost, detached. It was September and high school had started again. I layed in bed staring at the stucco that would appear everytime the helicopter overhead flashed its lights passed our barred window. Just 20 minutes earlier, I was laying in a similar position, dosing, half-asleep. 3 loud booms blared in my ears after the sound bounced off the metal and screen of our window.
I opened my eyes and called for my cousin in the dark room: "did you hear that?"
Ale: "yea, that was close"
Me: "I think it's at the neighbors house"
Ale: "probably a drug deal gone bad"
Me: "yea, I hope it's over"

A car drove by, rolled down its windows or maybe opened the doors. It could have been either. They opened fire in the direction of our neighbors house. My cousin was probably right. Drug deals happened in that house, a lot of people came and went, when we were younger we played in that yard. This happened frequently. Sometimes the shots were fired at our neighbors, sometimes at a house down the street, sometimes at someone walking down our street.

We woke up to a bullet lodged in the frame of our bedroom window. At that moment, nothing in my life- nothing I had ever seen or experienced would have even allowed me to imagine what my life is like now.
I graduate from medical school in 10 days. In the midst of packing, spending last moments with people who have become cherished friends, I took a moment to think about where my life is right now and I can't ever help but wonder: how did I get here?

30 Something

This is a 30 something woman. 

After attempting to be deliberate and eloquent in my first words to you, I realized that it does not matter that I tell you where I came from, what I've been doing, or give you a story of why I am writing today.

Instead, I will start from now and we can figure out the rest together.

Nothing clears up a case so much as stating it to another person

- Sherlock Holmes in Silver Blaze