Faith and Hope

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I received a gift today.  Of course, I didn’t immediately recognize it as such.

In the latest of a long series of meetings with my employers, I was given 2 messages:

1) We appreciate the progress you’ve made.

2) We have learned we can’t expect anything further of you.

No, they did not state it that way, and I suspect that they would take exception to my interpretation and ad-libbing.  However, the essence of the message felt that way to me, and this is my blog, so that’s how it’s going to be preserved.

I feel grateful to them for allowing me gentleness laced with accountability.  When I took the job with them, I felt a strange whispering in the back of my skull.  After the multitude of sucktastic experiences through which my career had sent me careening in the past year… or two… the slippery whispery message that kept coming to my consciousness was this, and only this, when I pondered what this new experience would bring:

They will exceed your expectations.

 

Hindsight is 20/20, and although the whispering had the edge of prophecy at the time, I was too frightened and exhausted to put any of my energy into it.  I just took a deep breath and stepped in, hoping for the best. 

When I finally got to the point where I couldn’t help but let them in on the monumental struggle my personal and professional life had become, I did not expect understanding.  Or mercy.  Or compassion.  I expected the figurative pink slip, and I believed I deserved it.  Maybe I still believe I deserve it. I’m working on that.  It’s not that I believe I’m bad at what I do.  It’s that I have come to believe that I can’t meet standard minimal expectations… and therefore my contributions are not valuable. 

As I’ve embarked on some time off with their blessing, riddling my time with a tenuous and ever-shifting balance of focused self-care activity and complete absence of productive focus, I’ve noted some improvements.  The therapy, the EMDR, the acupuncture, the yoga, the chanting, the reading, the writing, the brooding… all of these have their place.  Overall, I feel I’m on the mend.  However, the frightening thing that I’ve been unable to really look at for fear of unraveling the fragile progress I’ve made, is that what makes it all manageable for me right now is that which will not be allowed to stand.  Namely, I’ve been permitted to be less efficient at work than any employer would “rightfully” expect.  I feel, for the first time in a long time, that my workload is manageable, and I’m reclaiming some balance in my life.  However, this is with an understanding that there is a time limit and likely a patience limit that will eventually come into play.  I believed that would happen sooner rather than later.  I believed that perhaps if I was still unable to “cut it,” I would be cut off.  I was trying to face this reality with courage and fortitude.  Because ultimately, I can only do what I can do.

As many times as I can tell myself not to compare myself to others, to walk my own path and have respect for my own process, it only goes so far when you realize that you can’t meet what might be considered basic expectations in your work.  I look at what other providers do, and I can’t seem to do it.  I can’t keep up with the mad rush, even when I’m working as fast as I can.  I do acknowledge that many providers struggle and many walk away.  Yet it still feels like failure, and I still feel guilty for asking for accommodations.  That is just the bald truth of it.

When I was told today that my employers have somewhat relinquished hope that I will improve further in my efficiency, my first response internally and externally was to hope that I will actually continue to improve.  I thanked them again for their patience with me.  I expressed that I would understand if they needed to replace me with a clinician who can see more patients per hour.  While both sides acknowledge that the future is not decided on this issue, there does not appear to be an immediate plan to replace me.  My earning potential is reduced, but my wellbeing is more valuable than any number of dollars, so this is a compromise I’m comfortable living with.

This evening, I’ve been reading a book by Augusten Burroughs called This Is How.  It’s a library book that must be returned tomorrow, but I’ve already read enough to decide I must have my own copy.  This no-holds-barred, down-to-earth, funny rambler of a self-help book seemed to bring to mind after reading the first five chapters, something that’s been percolating since the meeting earlier today.

I’ve been freed.

I know that I want to – and they want me to – become more efficient.  Yet they are willing to let me be otherwise. 

What does that mean?

Does it mean I can stop – just stop – beating myself up for not being enough?  Is it okay?  Is it okay to not be “enough” for other people?  Is it okay to forgive myself for not being whatever I thought I should be and had to be? 

Ultimately, the conclusion that whatever I happen to be able to give is enough should eventually become clear to me, given enough time – not just on a cognitive level, but on an ever-elusive emotional level.  Even though I’ve never been quite able to reach this attitude in truth, I know that my healing depends on it.  As such, I know I have to make it to those shores some day, some way.  The gift in today’s indication that I’m not expected to measure up anymore, regardless of whether it was meant in kindness or as a sort of resignation (or both), is that I have a new and peculiar sensation that I’m closer to believing I’m okay just the way I am.  It’s a hard feeling to explain and quantify, because at the same time I’m feeling this shift, I’m still feeling the shame, still zeroed in on how “unacceptable” my performance and the accommodations that have been made for me are.  And yet… the shift is real.  I’ve been trudging along a dirt road, and someone has paved a little portion of it for me.  Maybe I only get to ride a little ways on this pavement, but I will take it, and I don’t want to squander this opportunity to allow it to move me into a new frame of self-acceptance. 

Maybe the shift goes something like this.  “I’m doing okay.  I can handle this workload.  I can find joy in my work again.  Too bad I suck and everyone knows I suck and that’s the only reason why I’ve been given this workload.  Too bad I can’t expect to keep this workload.  I hope I can somehow pull my shit together because this won’t last forever.”  [shift] “Wow, that really blows that they’ve lost their faith in me, but what can I expect?  Maybe I can’t do any better.  Wait.  Maybe I can’t do any better.  And… wait… maybe … that’s … okay?”

Whether I can do better or can’t do better really feels completely beside the point to me at this moment.  The gift comes in the small thought that maybe if this is all they can ever expect from me, that’s okay.  Is it okay?  Well, that’s the question I’m working on, and the freedom comes in the thought that maybe… maybe… it actually is okay.  It doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying.  What it does mean is that in a way I can’t explain, I suddenly feel less pressure in this moment.  I don’t feel a deadline looming over me, wondering what happens if I don’t measure up.  If that deadline was real, if it existed, ultimately, I would have to face these questions in a very literal way.  But it appears there is no deadline on the table at this moment.  I’ve been given a reprieve.

I feel, at least momentarily to some small degree, a release of my striving mindset.  Maybe there’s a type of optimism that really isn’t all that healthy to engage.  Maybe I’ve spent too much time and energy pumping myself up, with thoughts of affirmation: “I can do this.  I’m a bright person, and I can figure out how to do this.  I must do it.  I hope I won’t fall back into grave imbalance… no, I won’t.  I will stay centered and I will focus on finding fulfillment and joy in my work.  I will be present for my family when the day is over, no matter how wrung-out I feel.  In fact, I know I can learn to do this work without feeling so wrung out…”

Maybe I can explain this better by quoting Burroughs.

Affirmations are dishonest.  They are a form of self-betrayal based on bogus, side-of-the-cereal-box psychology.

The truth is, it is not going to help to stand in front of the mirror, look into your own eyes, and lie to yourself.  Especially when you are the one person you are supposed to believe you can count on.

Affirmations are the psychological equivalent of sprinkling baby powder on top of the turd your puppy has left on the carpet.  This does not result in a cleaner carpet.  It coats the under-lying issue with futility…

Many people do not want to admit to themselves or others when they are feeling distressed, anxious, insecure, lonely, or any of the other emotions people feel that exist uncomfortably outside the superupbeat umbrella.  So it’s chin up and sprinkle, sprinkle, sprinkle.

…Truthfulness itself is almost medicinal, even when it’s served without advice or insight.  Just hearing true words spoken out loud provides relief.

…[S]tripping away all the inaccuracies, misunderstandings, and untruths that surround you is exactly how you can overcome anything at all. 

Truth is accuracy.

Without accuracy, you can’t expect to manifest large, specific changes in your life. 

…Because we only rarely have the opportunity to know the full truth about something, we have to try for as much accuracy as possible.  Accuracy can be thought of as an incremental percentage of the truth.

…I mean only the in-your-face, ignore-at-your-peril, star-sapphire-bright, no-wonder-therapy-failed, singular, shackle-cracking, like-it-or-not, rock-bottom, buck-stopping, mind-reeling, complete-transformational, factual truth that resides at the center of every one of your issues and dreams and roadblocks and tragedies and miracles.

 

I don’t know what the truth is yet.  All I can say is that what I’ve been telling myself – about my capabilities, my limitations, and my value are somehow not true.  They are bullshit.  And ironic as it seems, whether the expectation that I’ll never get any better than I am today turns out to be true or not, the fact that this suspicion was voiced has broken down the barriers to my own truth.  There is a crack in the wall of my defenses, of the affirmative nonsense I want to believe (maybe that I feel I have to believe) about myself and my situation, of the blatant lies and traumatic abuse I heap upon myself… and I sense – somehow know – that if I peek through this crack, I may catch a glimpse of what is true.  And then I will transform.

 

Living up to expecations

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Have you ever reached a point where you felt unable to live up to expectations?  I’m not talking about unrealistic expectations, but just ordinary, daily-life expectations?  Have you ever had to adjust your attitude about what is required?  Again and again and again…
I find it interesting to note the things my system won’t support me in any longer.  After a lifetime of being the overachiever, it is truly disconcerting to see that I do not thrive in my profession.  I know that I am GOOD at my profession.  My knowledge is more than adequate, my compassion is generally intact even in the most trying of circumstances.  But I struggle through my days and wonder if I will ever fit in, if the “rush-rush-rush” of clinic medicine is something that I cannot, ultimately, reconcile myself to.  Hmm.  That is not what I was expecting.

As children, many of us are told that we can do anything we dream.  And then we feel shattered and inadequate when we come to understand that we all have limitations.  The flip side of that coin is that we all have marvelous gifts.  I keep hoping that maybe I’ve just applied myself to the wrong tasks, that maybe that’s why it can be so hard.

I find myself wondering what makes the fighters who they are.  Because I’ve learned I’m not a fighter.  At least not in the manner I had full confidence I could be when I was younger.  I am not a Jonathan V. Wright.  I am not a Ghandi.  I am not a Viktor Frankl.  I am not an Erin Brokovitch.

I am an Amy Wing.  What does that mean?

I do persistently believe that each of us has contributions, and most of us will make them in very quiet ways with little or no fanfare.  I have never had a strong desire to be visible or publicly validated.  But that does not mean I haven’t wanted to feel validated, to know within myself that I do good work and that the things I am good at contribute somehow.  That is the most important – knowing who I am and what I can do, knowing my place and feeling comfortable there.
When things fall apart and decisions must be made, when I can’t meet my own and others’ expectations, I want the answers to come quickly, to assuage my discomfort, to find new hope and new direction.  Yet, the process appears to be slow.  The answers feel as if they may never come.  All I can do is breathe, remember to look for beauty in every day and every moment, spend quiet time listening to my inner self in hopes that the insights I feel I need will eventually appear.  The constant remember to be gentle with myself and others is one I can stand behind whole-heartedly, yet it is a daily challenge, and one I don’t always live up to.
How do you let go when you don’t know how?  How do you find your place when you have no map?  … none of us do.
I started watching the BBC show Call the Midwife.  I find I relate very much to the character Chummy.  She shows up, all arms and legs, enormous in stature, unable to perform all the tasks expected of her.  But as you watch her, you realize that she is ideally suited to her work because of her gift in relating to frightened women.  She shows an enormous amount of grace under pressure.  Later, you find she has dashed her family’s expectations by choosing what she has, and she nearly walks away from her husband-to-be and her profession because she hasn’t learned to reconcile her expectations of herself with what her family expects of her.  It is clear to the viewer that her expectations need to be adjusted and that she is where she needs to be, but that is anything but obvious to her.  Then comes the miraculous moment when a patient’s experience gives her the insight and strength she needs to embrace the life she has chosen.

I used to think that I could think myself into such an insight – logic would lead me there eventually.  I used to think the answer could be found in a book, if only I found the right way to think about the issue.  I still fall prey to this thinking, but I’ve learned that the wisdom I need is only come to in its own time and its own way.  I can’t force it to occur, and I don’t know when that moment of grace will show up or what it will look like.  It may be a series of subtle moments that only make sense years down the line.  And yet I can’t stop asking… when?  What?  How?

Impulses

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Oh how I love the moments of grace where thought becomes understanding that can be translated to action.  Those shifts are magical, and they can’t be forced.  So often, it’s just a twitch away from something you already know yet somehow haven’t been able to integrate.

This is the case with “should.”  How often have I heard “Stop shoulding all over yourself”?  And how often have I wanted to but could not figure out how to shush the shoulds?

Have you ever had a book on your shelf for years and then suddenly feel the impulse to finally pick it up and read it?  That happens to me frequently.  Maybe it only happens to those who collect books, as I do (I can’t seem to break myself of the habit).  The book that jumped out at me this week was Kurt Leland’s Menus for Impulsive Living.

These simple but potentially life-changing moments often happen, for me, with the sense of something getting rearranged in my brain.  That’s what happened when I read this:

What is an impulse?  In our view, it is a message sent to the ego either from the soul or the body.  This message indicates that a certain action is appropriate at a certain time.  When the message comes from the soul, the action will have something to do with the process of self-realization, of becoming who you truly are; when from the body, it will have something to do with physical survival…

…[T]here is no such thing as a self-destructive impulse…

From our perspective, actions motivated by such powerful emotions as rage or hatred are not impulsively but compulsively motivated.  There is a certain neurotic aspect to such behaviors, which indicate a severe misalignment of ego and soul.  The same would be true, but to a lesser extent, with individuals who feel the compulsion to shoplift or commit other minor transgressions.

… It is never appropriate to refuse or ignore impulses… True impulses have a certain persistence about them.  They will not vanish from your awareness until they have been acted upon.  In order to refuse or ignore them, the ego must talk itself out of noticing and acting upon them.  Whenever you try to persuade yourself to do a certain thing, you are ignoring and impulse against.  And whenever you try to persuade yourself not to do a certain thing, you are ignoring an impulse for.  A rather typical technique of persuasion is concealed in the word should.  Whenever you tell yourself that you should be doing a certain thing, there is always something else that you are trying to talk yourself out of doing.  If you say, “I should do X,” you are actually suppressing the second part of the sentence: “instead of Y.”  By reversing your position – doing Y instead of X – you will have acted on the true impulse.

Did you see the light bulb that just went on over my head?  I get so caught up in shoulds, my shoulds have shoulds.  Sometimes there are so many shoulds in my mind upon 2 minutes of awakening, I feel overwhelmed and want nothing to do with my day.  The list of shoulds is so long and impossible, and I can’t seem to choose which shoulds to address.  Even if I choose one or two, I tend to feel like the Red Queen – running, running, running and never getting anywhere.  Is there really a process so simple that I can turn these shoulds on their head?  Is there really a beacon inside me that guides truly to the things that most benefit myself and those around me and which things might be rejected because they are best left for another time… or best left undone?  Is there really a way to know, in each moment, which action will lead me to wholeness and true balance?

The questions above help me see that I’ve been pretending my whole life.  I pretend I know how to be a responsible adult.  I go through the motions.  Sometimes they feel good and other times they feel horrible.  I have trouble believing I’m the only one who has looked for a formula or a routine that will make things easier.  I suppose I’ve concluded more than once that I’m a flighty person for needing different things on different days, that a strict self-imposed routine has never worked well for me, and that while self-flagellation does not appear to be particularly effective, I’ve found no better approach.  Passion is unreliable, “laziness” too powerful.

Stress could be described as the state of being in need of something that you purposely deny to yourself – by telling yourself that something else is more important.  To live impulsively requires that you get rid of the system of values that supports this kind of thinking.

The details beyond these introductory ideas are interesting.  Things are broken down into categories and specific advice is given for various types of impulses.  The focus is on paying attention to the pull to do something or not do something instead of sticking with your ideas of what should or should not be done, in what order, and at what time.  From the basics of bodily functions to various activities, explanations are provided regarding the importance of structuring your life to accomplish ready response to impulses as they arise.

Whether the details about how to structure response to impulses speak to you or not, I find the concept of simply paying close attention to my impulses – all of them – to be a new and valuable tool.  I spent the day at work yesterday doing my best to value the bodily impulses.  I peed when I felt the urge, I drank water the moment I realized I was thirsty, I ate what appealed to me among the available options, and I stopped eating when the impulse arrived. (Okay, I admit, I did eat an extra 2 bites of pasta salad after that point – what can I say?  I’m learning.)

This morning, I woke up with my overwhelming list of want-to, need-to, and should-do items running through my head.  As usual, the mental list was superhumanly long and complicated.  As usual, I felt my anxiety rising.  As usual, I opted to lay in bed for many long minutes rather than greet my day with anticipation.  And then I began to breathe, and I reminded myself I am human, and I asked myself what my first impulse was.  So I started my day with a trip to the toilet (Leland claims that your body will tell you it’s time to wake through your bladder – if you have to pee, it’s time to get up… hmmm…) and I did not eat an early breakfast because I did not yet feel the impulse to eat, and I accepted that I can work with this concept of one moment leading to the next and embrace these impulses with joy and appreciation.

After driving kiddo to school, the impulse came to make a list of leisure activities that I feel may bring interest and joy into my life, regardless of whether I feel I have time for them.  Then the impulse to write appeared, and so that’s what I’m doing.  And the next impulse is to grab my mat and go to yoga, which I will also do.  I suspect the impulse to eat will follow that, but we’ll see… and then my afternoon may be taken up with any of several activities, but for now I’m trusting that there’s no need to plan.  The list will remain, but if I follow impulse to impulse, I won’t get paralyzed and I won’t feel the need to go to bed and pull the covers over my head.  Maybe I’ll play with the dog.  Maybe I’ll do the laundry.  Maybe I’ll lay in bed and read.  I won’t be surprised if the list gets done on its own if I respect this process.  It’s an experiment I’m willing to try.  In this moment, I sense the wisdom in this approach… let’s see if I can live it.

An open message to all patients

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Our healthcare system is broken her in the United States.  I have great hopes that the Affordable Care Act with help… and great fears that it will only make things worse.

A huge part of the problem is the bureaucratic nature of medicine.  Many patients don’t realize is what is expected of medical providers, and when they are asked to shoulder some of the burden of our messed-up system, they get understandably angry.  Let me explain.

It takes a huge time and energy commitment to become trained in medicine.  Even if you take the route of less years of formalized training, as I did when I decided to become a physician assistant, it requires putting much of “life” on hold for years.  Many medical students get divorced during medical school – did you know that?  Quite simply, it’s very difficult to have any balance in your life when you are studying.  It’s also extremely expensive.  To put it in perspective, if I were able to pay on all my loans at once, I might pay them off around the time I retire.  However, I can usually afford to pay on only 2 or 3 (of the several loans I have) at a time.  Don’t get me wrong – I am eternally GRATEFUL for the financial assistance I was given.  It allowed me to pursue my dreams and gave me the qualifications to do work I love and find very fulfilling (most of the time, anyhow… *grin*).

Fast forward.  When a provider begins medical practice, it can be a rude awakening.  Often, appointments will be scheduled every 15 or 20 minutes, all day long.  (I worked in one practice right out of school that was scheduling 5-6 patients an hour on my schedule.)  Because life (and medicine!) are unpredictable, things come up that are unexpected.  A patient comes for a simple bladder infection and lets you know that she can’t pee and has been up all night with a fever.  Then, she happens to mention that she has had chest pain for 2 weeks and passed out yesterday.  Suddenly your “quick” acute care visit turns into an extended encounter for a high-risk patient.

And then there are the “one-more-thing” encounters: someone who came in for a cold will want to have a prescription refilled.  Okay, no biggie – happy to help.  Then, the patient will ask if the advice in the media about taking fish oil regularly is a a good idea.  Still on track – happy to give a brief recommendation.  Then, “I just have this weird mole… can you take a quick look at it?”  Sure… shouldn’t take more than a couple seconds…  Then, “My left toenail has been hurting, would you mind taking a quick peek to see if I have an ingrown toenail?”  Okay – won’t take long.  What that patient doesn’t realize is that for every “small” item, I need to document what I found and the advice given, even if it was just “reassurance.”  If you were scheduled for a 10 or 15 minute acute care visit, I’m now behind… because even if all that take only 7 minutes, I have to write everything down and order any prescriptions and tests.  I am happy to do it – patient care is why I do what I do… but now I’m behind, and if this happens multiple times, patients wait.  And I work through my lunch hour.

The strain of juggling a LOT of thoughts cannot be overstated.  I (usually) do it with relative ease at this point in my career – but believe me, it is a skill that has taken years to develop – years after my formal training was completed. All bets are off if the patient has a condition I am not familiar with or a puzzling set of symptoms.  I once read an article written by a doctor about the number of considerations running through her head during a routine office visit – not even a complex one; it was kind of overwhelming to see it all written out like that. I found myself nodding my head through the entire read.  I will post a link if I can find the article…

The end of the day comes in a flash – on my feet and busy all day long, I finally sit down to fill in the gaps on my documentation (a complete progress note usually isn’t done during your office visit – personally, I usually make sure to document just enough to jog my memory so I can finish the complete note later, which allows me to move on to the next patient in line sooner…).  That actually gets put on hold as I check through my telephone messages first – addressing what seem to be most urgent, then the ones that appear to be time-sensitive, then whatever else I can manage in the time I have left.  It is usually 6:30 p.m. or later by this time.  Then I work through the test results (labs and imaging) in a similar manner – addressing the most urgent, by this time watching the clock and wondering if I’ll get home before my daughter’s bedtime; balancing the needs of anyone who is sick enough to need action tonight or first thing in the morning with the fact that I haven’t seen my family all week.  If there’s any time left or any energy left by the time I get through those vital tasks, then I return to my unfinished progress notes.

By the time I get home, it has been anywhere from 9 to 11 hours, often without a lunch break (depending how “crazy” the morning was).  There is no downtime -  no quick checks of Facebook, no coffee breaks.  A chat around the water cooler is rare indeed.  And on a busy day, I find myself strategizing how I will get to the ladies room.   Every patient gets my undivided attention, 15 or 20 minutes at a time, all day long.  If there is a cancellation or a no-show on a busy day, I am grateful for the extra few minutes to check on a few of those things that typically wait for the end of the day (see above) – or I breathe a sigh of relief, as I realize the person who has been waiting for 20 minutes won’t be forced to wait another 15 or 20 minutes on top of that.
I think this is pretty typical for primary care providers (and many specialists).  In fact, some have even more to do – if they are hospitalists as well, they must find time to see their patients in the hospital.  Many doctors and providers also take call – either to see sick patients in the ER or hospital after hours or to be available to patients by phone.

In today’s medicine, the general practitioner (GP) – your primary care provider (PCP) – must know and retain an astonishing amount of information and know how to apply it practically and individually.  And the learning is never done.  I actually like this about my job – I like learning, I like that new and exciting information is coming out every single day.  I like fitting the puzzle pieces together and helping a patient figure out what will work best for him or her.  Specialists also must know an astonishing amount of information, but typically they must know only the information that applies to their specialty.  Primary care providers – good ones, anyway – know a good amount about a LOT of things.  It’s true that the depth of my knowledge in any particular specialty usually does not match that of a specialist (that’s why we have them, after all!) – but the breadth of my knowledge must be quite comprehensive.  At a minimum, I need to know when the best care is likely by referring to a specialist – and which one.   As medicine and technology advances, the humble GP must know more and do more – it’s not your great-grandfather’s doctor you are dealing with today.  In addition, it is the PCP’s job to coordinate all your care.  We must doggedly pursue notes and records from all your specialists, we must ask questions about who is doing what, and we must fill in the gaps whenever necessary.

Despite the reality of the above statement, generally speaking, compensation for your PCP is typically the lowest of any doctor or medical provider you see.  I suspect this is because insurance companies got their start when specialists were the ones with the greatest depth AND breadth of knowledge in the medical community.  The family physician handled the most common, least complex stuff and referred the rest to specialists.  (It’s also true that procedures tend to get reimbursed at a much higher rate than consults, and this is another reason most specialists are compensated better than PCPs.  It’s crazy, but I make more money for the practice when I take 2 minutes to freeze off a benign skin lesion than when I work with a brittle diabetic for 30 minutes to ensure he doesn’t end up in the hospital.) GPs now manage chronic and complex conditions every day.  If my day were full of sniffles and bladder infections alone, with the occasional serious condition that I could refer to a specialist, the current pay structure might be reasonable.  But I manage every common chronic condition, spanning multiple specialities, and I work with patients who have multiple complex conditions, all of which must be considered when prescribing something as common as an antibiotic.  This is why, quite frankly, primary care providers are becoming scarce.  Who wants to make the sacrifices involved in becoming a doctor, only to be overworked and underpaid?

And those who own primary care practices are forever trying to figure out how to manage their overhead – professional (utilities, realty, medical supplies, electronic medical records system, licensing, malpractice, staff, etc.) and personal (loan payments, for starters).  Many have resorted to less-than-ideal options – seeing as many patients as possible in as little time as possible, extending hours, cutting benefits for staff (if they ever existed in the first place).  We try to implement productivity strategies that help us accomplish more in less time.  Some practices are quite good at this, some not so good.  And a lot – a LOT – of practices close their doors within 10 years of starting up.  Read what this doctor has to say about why primary care is not sustainable.

What has taken me years to learn (and I’m still learning) is that if I don’t guard my wellness, I will burn out.  And then I will want to quit medicine and find another way to make a living.  By the time I feel that way, I know things have gotten out of hand.

The insurance industry can be quite arbitrary in what they decide to pay for and how they determine what the medical provider’s time and resources are worth.  This is a for-profit business, and while they have plenty of warm fuzzy commercials airing that try to convince you otherwise, they do not care about you or your health – they care about their bottom line.  They care even less about your doctor.

This is the first step in what I feel is an important revolution that needs to happen in this country as we work toward solutions in healthcare: we need to acknowledge that if we want to be well, we cannot rely on the insurance industry to get us there.  We need to be aware of the fiscal and human costs of medicine, and we need to be willing to take responsibility for these costs for ourselves and others.  While we accept that our auto insurance won’t cover oil changes and new tires, we get angry over the idea that we should have to pay anything over our premiums when it comes to our health care.  It’s true that the abuses of the insurance industry should be reined in, but I also believe that we need to consider reining in our attitudes about what the insurance companies “owe” us, as well as what is reasonable to pay them for their (sometimes quite limited) services.

I do not chronicle my professional life to complain. I’m writing this today because of the concerns I hear from patients.  Until patients understand how medicine in the U.S. works, they will have no idea what needs to be done to move towards solutions – and if the patients don’t understand and insist on change, I truly believe we can’t expect change to magically happen on it’s own.  It’s not enough to leave this to politicians and industry experts.

Patients are frustrated and financially squeezed – I don’t blame them for their frustrations (as a patient, I share them).  But I also have little sympathy for those who expect that the burden will be shouldered wholly by the doctors and medical providers who are just as stuck in a broken system as they are.  Don’t get me wrong – some docs have become burned out and no longer care to do what is required to take optimal care of patients.  Some never had great motivations to begin with and got a hell of a wake-up call when they discovered what medicine entails.  I’ve known several of these types, both as a patient and as a working physician assistant.  I sympathize with them – boy, do I ever!  But if you can’t do good work, get out of medicine.  It sounds harsh, but it’s a standard I hold myself to, as well.

I hear comments and read comments regularly that indicate to me that many people have no comprehension of how the healthcare industry is set up.  Either that or they are unwilling to take responsibility for themselves or make reasonable demands on their doctors’ time and resources.  In many cases, both.  What job-hopping this year has also shown me is the variety of ways that practices deal with the onslaught – the great need and the low resources, trying to do their best with customer service yet drawing appropriate boundaries.  There is no one way to do it, but most practices are working very hard to find the balance.  And most doctors, for all the drawbacks and failures of the current system, are really quite interested in taking care of patients in as optimal a way they can manage.

So, let’s get to patient concerns.  I’d like to address them directly – not to make excuses for medical providers and practices, but to shed some light on WHY certain decisions have been made and boundaries have been established.

The office practice of having patients call themselves to check on what is covered on their insurance is a pain.

Yes, that is a pain.  However, insurance is a contract between the patient and the insurance company.  Billing your insurance at all is a courtesy that has become an industry standard (although more and more doctors are opting out and requiring that patients pay them directly and submit their own reimbursement paperwork).  Most doctors take several different kinds of insurance, which allows them to offer their services to more people, as most people rely on insurance to cover costs.  Each insurance company has several plans, and each plan has different coverage for various things.  Given what I’ve shared about about what needs to be considered and done during even a brief visit, can you imagine what it would take (if it were even possible) to check on coverage for every test and exam recommended?  Personally, I am aware of a couple of things that are generally not covered by certain companies – but it changes all the time, and it’s just not reasonable to expect your doctor’s office to verify your coverage.  It’s also not reasonable to blame your doctor’s office if your insurance declines to cover something you feel you are entitled to.

Wouldn’t it be nice if medical providers could simply recommend what they believe to be of greatest benefit to patients instead of wondering if the insurance company will agree?  Well, that’s not the world we live in at present… until then, the division of responsibility is as follows: it is the provider’s job to take the best care of you that he or she can with available resources; it is the patient’s responsibility to manage the details of how the provider or practice is compensated for his or her time and expertise.

Medicine is the only profession I can think of where patients commonly expect they should not have to pay a professional for her services.  Try telling your lawyer that you don’t think you should have to pay for her services.  See what she says.  All in all, I think most practices do quite a lot to assist the patient as much as they reasonably can – and most doctors wait for payment, regardless of who is footing the bill.  You’d be furious if you had to wait weeks or months for your services to be reimbursed, yet this is not unusual for your doctor.

My husband was charged for 4 different office visits just to have a yearly physical.  One charge to establish him as a patient, one charge for the physical, one for labs and one because he discussed more then what is allowed during the physical.

Most offices will do your annual physical, send you to the lab for the required lab tests and phone you with the results. This office requires two separate doctors appointments, requiring two co-pays and additional costs for the insurance company.

My doctor refuses to speak with me on the phone!  I always have to send messages through staff.

It’s true that some offices will just call you with your test results.  Personally, if the results are normal and the patient does not have any chronic conditions that need to followed more closely, I will usually ask staff to call the patient with normal results (even better if the practice has a web-based patient portal – then I can send the results to the portal, and the patient can review them there, making a follow-up appointment if there are any questions or concerns).  There is a cost associated with this, but it is minimal if it is a simple courtesy call (and, in my opinion, should be covered by the fee associated with the original visit).  Often, the patient will have a “quick” question for the doctor or mention that they have a concern or a problem for which they do not want to schedule an appointment “since I’ve got you on the phone anyway.”  At that point, boundaries have to be drawn… or the practice chooses to eat the cost of the ensuing messages back and forth and time entailed for the staff.  I’ve seen practices do it both ways, and that’s a personal choice.  However, patients should be aware that time on the phone is time that is not compensated.  In other words, that is time your doctor’s office is working for free.  If the practice is gracious enough to offer this service, be gracious enough to appreciate it and recognize that you are receiving a free service.

An important consideration when evaluating the “fairness” of such policies is recognizing that most practices are reimbursed by insurance.  Insurance has set the rules, and the reality is that your medical provider and the practice he or she works with do not get reimbursed for telephone consultations. And most insurance companies will not reimburse anything “extra” we do in any encounter.  They consider a well check or a physical just that.   If I uncover something that indicates you are not “well,” or if you bring up a specific complaint, I can appropriately bill for it – but it’s not likely the insurance will pay for it.  Some insurance companies go so far as to deny the claim for the preventive care (physical) if there’s any acute compaint or chronic condition billed.  If I have time, I can address it – as long as you understand that you may receive a bill – the insurance will pay for either the preventive “well” care OR the acute complaint/chronic condition management, but not both.

As one doc I’ve worked with says, “We didn’t make these rules.  If you have chosen to use insurance, you have chosen to accept the way they do things.  And we don’t – we can’t – work for free.” This comment is actually quite telling.  It has helped me feel more comfortable drawing appropriate boundaries, and it also sometimes justifies a different approach with cash-pay patients, who have either opted out of or cannot obtain insurance.  (Frankly, if everyone paid in cash and/or processed their own insurance claims, medical care would cost a lot less – you’d be shocked how many people employed at your doctors office deal with insurance-related tasks… imagine how much the cost of running a practice would go down if a biller wasn’t needed, if there wasn’t a requirement for referrals or insurance paperwork… I’m not saying this is the optimal solution, but it’s something to think about.)

I cannot take good care of patients if I don’t have the time to discuss their test results with them.  Even simple, non-urgent issues often generate questions for the staff member calling, and some patients expect the provider to call them and discuss the nuances of the test results over the phone.  Refer to my description of my typical day, above.  Tell me, how would you feel if you were asked to work – for free – at the end of 9-11 hours of continuous work, at the expense of getting home to see your family and a much needed rest so you can do it again the next day?  How would you feel if this happened repeatedly because someone you are attempting to assist feels that you are “only trying to get more money out of me”?   It’s true that it may only take “a minute” (well, okay, this is often NOT true – “a minute,” for some patients, turns into 10 or 20), but multiply that by the number of patients I see in a week – somewhere between 60 and 80 most weeks (for many docs, it is 80-100).  Let me put it this way – it takes the better part of an hour, at times, just to read and respond to all the messages waiting for me at the end of the day – and that’s just to look at the information, determine what needs to be done, and send a message to the appropriate staff member to call the patient the next day.  Can you imagine what would happen if I called each patient and managed everything over the phone?  I would be there until midnight… for a few months.  And then I would burn out and either quit medicine or practice in a way that wouldn’t resemble anything I consider to be good medicine.  (We won’t even get into the fact that burnout contributes to medical errors and the fact that physicians are at higher risk of suicide than the general population….)

Don’t get me wrong, if the situation is unusual or the patient is very frightened or the news is serious, I will call.  That is the human part of medicine.  But I will not call you to discuss your low vitamin D level or your mild anemia – you will get a call from a member of my staff (that’s what they are there for) and/or you will be asked to follow up to discuss recommendations/treatment.  And if I diagnosed you with the flu, a viral illness for which antibiotics are not effective, and you call for an antibiotic the next day, you WILL be asked to follow up if you feel your illness is worsening.

I waited 45 minutes for labwork today before I asked to reschedule.  I watched as 4 other people left in frustration because they had waited so long.  I think I am going to look for another family practice office that values their patients’ time.

If only I could communicate to you how awful I feel when a patient has to wait an extended period of time.  If you’ve read my description of a typical day, above, you’ll understand a bit more about why this happens.  Primary care providers are usually the least compensated doctors in the business, as I’ve mentioned.  For that reason, the schedule has to remain full.  If your doctor isn’t working at a reasonable capacity at all times, the overhead involved with running a practice can overwhelm receipts.  And there is always – always – a wild card factor.  We can draw boundaries around the “one-more-thing” patients (although I often flub this, as I don’t realize that “one-more-thing” has turned into 5 “one-more-things” and now I’m behind for the waiting patients), you simply can’t predict the patient who comes in for back pain and mentions signs of a heart attack.  You can’t account for the time it may take to give some compassion to a patient who is very frightened or whose case turns out to me more complicated than the soundbite “reason for appointment” would suggest.  If this happens once or twice, it’s easier to recover and get back on track.  If it is a “perfect storm” kind of day, as I like to call them, I stumble from room to room all day long, thanking patients for their patience (ha!) and apologizing for delays.  I can assure you that if I’m not with you yet, it’s because I’m working hard for someone else, and when it’s your turn, I will give you the same consideration.

My doctor didn’t even look at me and only spent 10 minutes with me.  All these doctors care about is money.

I heard this one while eating out with my husband – the guy in the next booth was quite dissatisfied with his experience with his doctor.  (And I’ve heard variations on this complaint many times.)  This is unfortunate and, as a patient, unacceptable.  If you’ve read what I wrote above about the pressures of primary care, it’s easier to understand why doctors become burned out or lose sight of what they are ultimately there to do – take care of patients.  Sometimes, moving from room to room every 10-15 minutes becomes the only goal, and I believe we’ve probably lost many talented clinicians (or never allowed them to develop) because of this.  However, I must say, I don’t find these reasons acceptable.  As a patient, I expect my doctor to take care of me, to care about what I’m saying, and to look me in the eye and express some compassion and concern for my quality of life.  I’m quite opinionated about this – if you can’t do that, hang it up and find a different line of work.  What I wanted to say to this patient I overheard at the restaurant (I didn’t, of course – can you say intrusive?!) is: “You may have to choose.  If you want a medical provider who gives you the time and human compassion you need, recognize that he or she will give that to other patients as well, and that means that sometimes there will be a wait.  Sometimes you will be asked to follow up for another appointment when you don’t particularly want to because you think you should be able to receive advice over the phone.  But keep on looking, buddy – because you deserve more than what you got.”

This place is a money pit.  They offer so many services that are not covered by insurance!

There are several possible reasons for offering services that don’t have good insurance coverage.  One is that the doctor has determined that there are methods of treatment that can be very useful in helping patients become and remain healthy that have not yet been accepted by insurance as worthy.  This is true for some cutting-edge medical technologies, as well as for most “alternative” treatments, including acupuncture, chiropractic, Reiki, soft tissue manipulation (e.g., Rolfing or similar techniques) herbal medicine, and even clinical nutrition (if you don’t have a “qualifying condition,” such as diabetes).

I do understand that, as a society, we are paying an awful lot for our health insurance and expect to get more value from it.  However, a good doctor will give you options for treatments that may be helpful, regardless of whether your insurance company is willing to cover it.  It then becomes a question of the patient’s ability to afford the treatment, and sometimes it’s just not something the patient can afford.  However, just as often (or more often!), I see patients simply do not want to prioritize their health or do not wish to evaluate their spending elsewhere.  I have ZERO judgement for this – it is up to each person to determine their priorities and how they choose to spend their money.  And I certainly don’t expect anyone to take my word for something that is going to cost them more money than they anticipated spending – which is why I usually ask patients to think about my recommendations, do some research, and know that it is available for them if they choose.

Choice is important; while I recognize and share the frustrations involved in paying out money to a company that has its own ideas about how your health should be managed, I do not advocate allowing that company to dictate your choices in how you will approach your own health and well-being.  Regardless of your insurance coverage (or lack thereof), your health is YOUR responsibility.  A good medical provider will provide you with options and work with you to make things as cost-effective as possible.  We hand way too much power over our health to insurance companies, and that’s something I’d like to see come to an end.  Take the coverage where it exists if you choose to carry insurance, but be prepared to think carefully and make decisions about how much you’d like to prioritize your health in those cases where a treatment or test may not be covered.

Another reason cash-pay services might be offered is that there are times when patients are willing to pay out of pocket for services.  We’ve seen the rise of the “med spa,” and various cosmetic medical treatments such as Botox, microdermabrasion, and prescriptions for Latisse have been driven by consumer demand.  Many weight loss programs (and some prescriptions) are also cash-pay services.

I’m sure I’ll have much more to say on this topic in coming days, online and off.  Feel free to leave your comments – this is something we are all in together, and I know there are as many ideas about how things should be done as there are people to voice those opinions.  I wrote this post to give some background based on my experiences alone.  If we work together and shift our thinking, I know we can eventually get ourselves out of this mess – and seeing the full picture is part of informing ourselves so that we can work towards solutions.

ADDENDUM: I did think of one more irksome thing that tends to happen to patients at a doctor’s office – it’s hard to get a straight answer about what a visit will cost if you are paying cash or have a high-deductible plan.  There is a reason for this, and some of the reason goes back to insurance.  When I see a patient, I must bill a visit code at the end of every visit, and the code I choose depends on the complexity of the visit, the exam I performed, the questions I asked, and the amount of time I spent. 

Contrary to popular belief, time spent is not the only deciding factor – in fact, it’s not even the primary factor.  (Although if your office visit is extended, time becomes more of a factor – after I spend 40 minutes with a patient, I will typically code for time.)  Even if I “only” listen to your chest when I examine you, I am also silently assessing your cranial nerve function, your eyes, your speech, your exposed skin, your gait and how you are moving around the room, whether your breathing is labored, your demeanor and attitude (Do you appear uncomfortable or ill?  Is your affect flat?  Do you appear listless?  Are you irritable?), etc.  If I am seeing you for an upper respiratory illness, add on what your ear canals and tympanic membranes look like, your dentition, your uvula, your tongue, your lymph nodes, your sinuses, your nasal and oral mucosa, etc.  If I suspect mono, add on a full abdominal exam. 

All of that is documented, even if it only took me 2-5 minutes to make those observations and determine if they were normal or concerning.  Earlier in my career, I didn’t have the skill to make so many assessments in such a short period of time.  I had to slow myself down and think about it more carefully.  But experienced clinicians will assess more than you know in a very brief period of time.  It can come off like we don’t care enough to evaluate you thoroughly, and unfortunately, some clinicians are not as thorough as they should be.  If  a patient is concerned with my diagnosis, I tend to explain what my opinion is based on: “I see no signs of bacterial illness, so an antibiotic will not help you and may be harmful.  This is based on the symptoms you have reported to me, your skin temperature, the appearance of your mucous membranes, palpation and illumination of your sinuses, the sounds of your lungs, etc.  I don’t have a crystal ball, so of course if new symptoms develop or present symptoms worsen, please follow up so we can take another look at you.  It is possible for a secondary bacterial infections (such as sinusitis or pneumonia) to develop after a viral illness, so we would like to see you back if you feel you are not improving in the next [x number of] days.” 

Based on all these factors, I code the office visit, which is necessary to bill insurance.  Even if you are a cash-pay patient, the system I use requires the code before I can close your chart.  Most offices have discounted rates for cash-pay patients, but there’s no way to tell what the provider will code until the visit is complete.  And if tests were ordered, you can expect an additional cost, either from the office (if they processed the test) or from an outside lab or imaging facility.  If you received an injection, that will carry an additional charge.  Although I can tell you a chest x-ray outside of the office should cost somewhere in the neighborhood of $30-35, I cannot guarantee that price nor price check for you.  You will need to do that yourself.  I will usually guide patients towards businesses that have better cash-pay rates in general, if I am aware of them.

Personally, I prefer offices that have flat fees for different types of visits.  I currently do not carry insurance, and I like to have a general idea of what I will be charged.  The doctor’s office I use now charges something like $125 for a visit to establish care, somewhere around $175 for a well-woman exam with Pap processing included (a smokin’ deal since that Pap test has typically cost me close to $200 in the past – on TOP of the cost of the exam, which usually is somewhere around $125-150) and $70 for follow-ups.  However, the office I am currently working for bases it on the coding, and I believe a level 3 visit (which I will code for many simple acute care visits) is less than $60.  ALWAYS mention to your provider if you are a cash-pay patient.  I have worked in offices where the prices are not discounted but the providers are allowed to “downcode” by one level for cash-pay patients – if your provider doesn’t happen to look at your billing screen (I know I usually do not go into that part of the chart), he or she won’t know, and you may not get as good a rate. 

Energetic Birthright

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I just rediscovered this post I wrote for the Xen Healing Arts blog when I was associated with them in March of 2011.  I kind of appreciated it, reading it after this much time and so wanted to share it here on my personal blog as well (am I the only one who enjoys finding old bits of writing that I forgot about?).  Good thoughts for the new year… enjoy!

With Reiki I and II training coming up on March 19 & 20 at Xen Healing Arts, I thought it a perfect time to throw out some thoughts about confidence in healing. Challenges with confidence are as varied and individual as we are, but this article focuses on common issues for those new to sensing and moving energy.

Reiki is a wonderful and soothing method of utilizing life force energy for personal and interpersonal healing. It is a powerful system of natural healing and many holistic therapists are known to have started their training in healing with Reiki. I know for myself, Reiki is the baseline I always go back to as I progress into further healing skills and awareness. Reiki is useful for so many things that I can’t help but feel my life has been irreversibly enriched by the experience of its gift. I consider my Reiki attunements honestly among the richest blessings of my life. It has changed the way I think about … well, everything.

Our world and all we experience is made of energy in various forms. Whether you consider yourself a healer or not, Reiki is a concrete hands-on way to experience energy in a very personal way. However, the concept of moving and appreciating energy in the way that Reiki encourages and supports is foreign to many in our Western society. We tend to trust only what can been seen and measured. We tend to focus relatively little on sensing and feeling. Most of us have not ever considered nor tuned in to our personal energy fields, let alone the vast variety of experiences with energy that exist all around us.

I think this may be why learning Reiki can be difficult for some of us. The actual system is elegant and simple. It gives our brains something to focus on. The concepts underlying the system can seem esoteric to some, and this is where confidence comes in. When we are dealing with a system that is based on an invisible life force that many of us have never experienced in a directly conscious and personal way, it can seem incredible to consider that it is actually our birthright. Once that hurdle is cleared, we can still, at times, find ourselves wondering if we’ve gone a little loopy in the noggin as we attempt to work with this force. Who are we to move and manipulate the very essence of life? “Am I doing it right?” “What if it doesn’t work?” “Have I lost my mind?”

Granted, there are those who have enough experience and knowing to understand (or at least become comfortable with) the underlying principles at play. It tends to get easier with more exposure to both the ideas and the energy itself. We trust what we know, and there is no exception here. Then there are others, maybe most of us, who need a little injection of confidence – either to get started or to continue as doubts arise.

The first thing to remember is that regardless of what you’ve been told (or perhaps more to the point, what you tell yourself), energy is elemental to who you are, who we all are. We can categorize and define and work with various frequencies from x-rays to color, but the bottom line is that energy surrounds us. We are steeped in it, and we have an intimate connection with it. From our own personal energy field to the molecules in motion in the cosmos, energy is ours. Simply by being alive, you have a right to acknowledge, appreciate, and manipulate it. You do it whether you’re conscious of it or not. So, my question to you is: why not be conscious?

The second point is that regardless of what your particular gift for sensing energy may or may not be, you can trust that energy follows intent. Whether you feel palpable sensations… or whether you experience a “knowing” that you can’t explain or describe… or whether you simply trust that Reiki (and healing energy in general) is something that exists and can be harnessed or directed in some respect or another, you can always be sure of two things:

Intent is key.
Reiki does no harm.

If you start with those two concepts and develop confidence in them, this is a good place to begin. I believe that if you can start here, going back to these two concepts when you’re feeling insecure or wondering if you’re “making it up,” much of the nervousness can be set aside or cleared entirely.

We reside in a society that often fails to acknowledge (and at times is outrightly hostile towards) the energetic essence of our true natures. It can be difficult to leap into exploring these concepts and make them our own. As a good friend of mine said shortly after her introduction to energy healing, “I don’t want to believe it, but I can’t deny it.” There can be a significant degree of cognitive dissonance as we reach towards something that others have told us is not legitimate, even when our experience tells us otherwise. The irony is that so many of us are coming to know and experience these truths in increasing numbers. You may be shocked to discover how many around you are opening, as you are. We are waking up. And we are claiming what’s ours. What’s not to inspire confidence in that?

Beginner’s Mind

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I’ve been listening to a lot of Gabe Dixon lately.  I go through these phases in which a certain type of music fascinates me and it never seems to make much sense which way I’ll go.  For example, a Pink phase will be followed by a meditation music phase.  Go figure.

Anyway, lately it’s been Gabe Dixon.  There’s a song on The Gabe Dixon Band’s self-titled album called “Further the Sky.”  It’s a sweet song, but it’s always bothered me a little bit because it seems so… negative.  Like you just can’t win.  Here are the lyrics:

When you don’t know where you’re going and you don’t know why
It feels like another day’s beating into the night
Lay your head on my chest while my beatin’ heart pounds out the secret of this life

The higher you reach
The further the sky
The more miles you walk
The longer the road
The steeper you climb
The harder you stand to fall
The stronger you get
The heavier the load

I wish I could give you the answers and paper and ink
I wish I could stop all the tears before they start falling
But we’re feeling our way and we’re always beginners
We’re all cuts and no scars

The bigger the dream
The rougher the ride
The truer the love
The deeper the ache
The blinder the faith
The tougher the go…

I have been thinking about these lyrics a lot.  And I realize now that they are not really negative, underdog lyrics.  The song is only negative when we look at it through the lens of our “do-all, be-all” culture that insists you are nothing if you haven’t accomplished something.

The line “But we’re feeling our way and we’re always beginners” gives it away.

It doesn’t matter how far the sky is.  It doesn’t matter if we ever reach it.  The reaching for it is all that matters.  It doesn’t matter how long the road is or whether we get to the end of it.  And no matter how strong we get, there will be more challenges, more things to learn – and there’s not anything wrong with that.

In this life, we will never be finished.  “Lay your head on my chest while my beatin’ heart pounds out the secret of this life.”  And that’s the secret – the heart beats and beats and beats… it’s never done until life is done.  There is no goal for those heartbeats other than to just be what they are – always working to sustain life.

This is a lesson I still need to learn.  It’s a lesson we all learn every day we are living.

Doubt

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I speak from my heart but I’m not really sure if its true…

I don’t know what to believe I just show up and breathe

                                                       anymore.

                                          Indigo Girls, Lay My Head Down (Emily Saliers)

I’ve been silent on the blog for a while, and there’s a reason for that.  It’s primarily about doubt.

As I’ve opened to things unseen and things that many believe unknowable, it’s easy to let my thinking brain get in the way.  I do lots of that.  I’ve always felt blessed with a bright brain, but only recently have I come to understand that as glorified as intellect is in our culture, there are some things that come more easily to simple people (and by “simple,” please understand – I’m not saying unintelligent).  I think they often know how to feel their way through life in ways that those of us with big intellects have a hard time truly understanding.  I’ve been worshiping at the shrine of intellect all my days; I only recently became aware that the intellect cannot understand all things.  There are some things it can’t even approach.  I will admit, I have always believed that anything in life can be “figured out.”  And it turns out I was very wrong about that.

Still.  It’s very much my impulse and habit to use my brain for every application.  I’m learning, but it’s slow-going, and frankly, still way too often more theoretical than experiential.  And when I do get a lovely experience that takes me out of my brain, the gray matter immediately goes to work categorizing and intellectualizing as soon as I’m back from where ever I’ve been.  Maybe the best I can do is just watch my mind do this, try to understand that that’s what brains do and not get too distressed about it.  The only issue is that I still tend to think the answer is in the brain.

I have been thinking a lot about awareness lately, specifically “nonlocal” awareness.  What does this mean?  Nonlocal awareness?  It’s essentially the idea that our awareness does not reside in our bodies, in our nervous systems.  It’s behind the experiences people have when they remember past lives or have a near-death experience.  If we weren’t “here,” in our bodies, where do these “thoughts” and “memories” come from?  Consciousness is larger than our neurons.

I started to wonder if it’s possible to be aware of everything – I mean, really – EVERYTHING.  (I’m nothing if not ambitious, right?)  If you’ve been reading the blog for a while (or care to take a jog through old posts), you’ll know I have been diagnosed with adult ADD, and recognizing those tendencies in the way my brain works has been life-altering for me.  One thing that is obvious is that brains can only hold so much in attention at once, there’s only so much we can know and remember as humans.  There’s only so much we can attend to.  Even those of us who tune in to quite a lot at one time can’t tune in to EVERYTHING.  And the more we let in, the worse our overwhelm can become.  Our nervous systems just were not designed to attend to all that is, even in one blessed moment.

But… if we take the brain out of the equation?  What then?  Can we know in ways that we can’t intellectualize?  Can we know in ways that give us a snapshot, so to speak, of our entire environment?  I have begun to think that the answer to this is YES!

Only now, the question comes back to, “HOW?”

And that’s what I’ve been working on.  That’s why I haven’t had much to say lately.  I’m working out the awareness puzzle, and trying my damnedest to do so without my eager brain jumping in every other second.  It’s slow going for a heavy thinker like me.  The biggest hurdle on this journey so far is doubt.

There’s so much talk about ego – the evils and pitfalls of the ego.  Essentially, ego is brain-based.  I’ve come to understand that our ego is the unflinching survival mechanism that grounds us in this world.  It deserves respect but also should not be given domain over what it cannot comprehend.  I feel the ego is inescapable in this lifetime, but we can put it into the service of our soul.  I’m not always very good at that… but I’m working on it.  When I reach even a taste of what I’m trying to experience, the ego mind flies in with doubts.  The ego is entirely based in the intellect and in the survival instincts of this world.  It does not understand anything else, and so when those things appear, the ego/intellect dismisses them.  It is quite dogmatic in that way, and it’s easily threatened.  We are so very fond of listening to our egos.  For good reason, too – they help keep us physically safe and alive, functioning within our world of illusion.  So we are met with a challenge… how do we remove the intellect as king?  How can we give it a proper place, in balance with the wholeness of our being?

I don’t have answers.  Yet.  And when the answers come, I don’t know if I’ll be able to translate them to words on a computer screen. No doubt I will at least have the impulse to try.

And so the lyrics from the song I referenced above speak to me loudly these days.  “I speak from my heart, but I’m not really sure if it’s true.”  And I’ve realized that not being sure of my truth is a very painful place to be.  I hate it.  I want to stand on solid ground, and I want my intellect to reassure me that what I understand is TRUTH.  I want to wrestle with the issues of discernment with my brain, and it’s just not working very well.

“I don’t know what to believe, I just show up and breathe anymore.”

And maybe that’s all I can do.  Just show up and breathe.  Maybe while my mind is taking a breather, I will find and embrace my truth.  Maybe the Skeptic and the Thinker will lose track of me altogether.

A girl can hope.

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