Since launching the blog on 1/1/18, it’s been a wild ride.
I never dreamed anyone would read this other than old friends/acquaintances from med school and residency. I didn’t stop to think about the impact of my KevinMD article: Should we encourage people to go into medicine? being shared 5,000 times, or that one of my favourite bloggers The Happy Philosopher would ask me to do a guest post on his blog about my own burnout story. I certainly didn’t anticipate Physician on FIRE of the White Coat Investor Network to feature How I’m Plotting My Escape From Medicine on the Sunday Best, pushing my page views to over 20,000!
Confession time: I almost quit blogging
Those 20,000 page views brought me to my knees. I was humbled that people were actually reading my ramblings. Elated that people were commenting on the posts and emailing me about how my story resonated with them.
Then the OH SHIT moment happened.
Did I really want that many people peering into my mind?
You might not gather it from the blog, but I’ve always prided myself on being emotionally contained. IRL, no one really knows what I’m thinking. I am master of deflecting intrusive questions and redirecting attention onto something else.
If that fails, I’ve got layers. Like an onion. And it’s not pleasant when you peel them back, for anyone involved.
I call it emotionally contained, others may say emotionally stunted. I blame my parents (for those who have Asian parents, I know you feel me on this – the range of acceptable emotions is quite narrow).
Imposter syndrome
I’m not like the other physician bloggers that I follow. I don’t have any expertise in personal finance other than don’t buy stuff you don’t need, pay off your debts and don’t become so entitled that you forget how the other 99% live. I don’t claim to be a philosopher and I certainly don’t have any life changing revelations to offer you.
I’m still trying to figure my shit out myself.
So what am I doing?
Every post I’ve written has come from a stirring in my heart. A place of authenticity. Something I felt needed to be said.
Being that vulnerable has been terrifying.
It’s not my baseline.
I don’t like opening myself up to commentary. I don’t need to scroll through the comments on Facebook on the KevinMD post, deriding the author for “crying all the damn time.” (Which, for the record, was after a child abuse case during my intern year. I never cried again at work). I don’t need to be torn apart for having opinions that somehow others perceive to be a personal attack on how they’ve lived their lives.
Figuring out my why…
At the end of the day, what am I really getting out of the blog?
Is it that I get to edit, then re-edit my thoughts so the garbled mess in my head comes out in coherent form? Maybe this is my half-assed attempt to get out of going to therapy.
Or is it the people who have reached out to me, thanking me for putting into words what they’ve been feeling all along? Perhaps it is the sense of community I’ve built around myself – other people who commiserate with my failure dairy who haven’t yet found the words to express what they really want to say.
“Thank you for being vulnerable”
A friend from residency told me this after reading a post. I recoiled.
Vulnerability = weakness. Or so I’ve been conditioned to believe.
But as I’ve been going through my burnout struggle, devouring anything that had even an inkling of promise that it would “fix” me, I came upon this piece of wisdom by Brené Brown:
“Vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy, and creativity. It is the source of hope, empathy, accountability, and authenticity.
If we want greater clarity in our purpose or deeper and more meaningful spiritual lives, vulnerability is the path.”
What better way to achieve vulnerability than to expose your inner thoughts to 20,000 views?
After counseling hundred of patients on depression and anxiety, I believe we all suffer from the same affliction:
To be OK with being seen. Truly seen.
Not carrying our shield and armor against the naysayers and the critics. Putting our thoughts out there and not giving a damn about what people may think or say.
If you’ve followed this blog, I hope that’s why you’re here.
Because you’ve recognized I’m not here to hem and haw about bullshit. I will talk about real issues. I will write about Black Lives Matter, physician suicide, when I chose to lie to a patient and burnout.
I will continue to be raw and authentic even though it goes against every fiber of my being to put it out there in the open.
Because if I don’t say it, who will?
Vulnerability is the birthplace of connection and the path to the feeling of worthiness. If it doesn’t feel vulnerable, the sharing is probably not constructive.
-Brené Brown
For those who’ve reached out to me with words of encouragement, support or just to commiserate → You’re the reason I’ve continued on this journey.
Thank you.
***Photo: M’s literal reflection while getting gussied up for her sister’s wedding.
Speaking my language. Except maybe I am a bit your opposite in real life. I am an open book and brutally honest. I should probably turn that page on my blog, too. I’ve certainly learned the more raw and honest the post the more likely it is to resonate. You are teaching me that, too.
P.s. people need others to be vulnerable. It helps then realize that they aren’t the only ones struggling. When people pretend to get it all right, it just makes it worse for so many. That’s one of the big reasons I am off of personal social media.
TPP
I’ve toyed with the idea of being off personal social media, but I’ve instead just unfollowed things that didn’t bring me benefit… so pretty much everything 🙂
As I’ve been doing more Instagram posts, it’s been hard to reconcile the desire to emulate all the happy positive posts that seem to do well and to actually put what I consider “real” out there – social media is such a game I’m finding. Still trying to decide whether or not I want to engage.
I will say it’s easier to be more raw/vulnerable since I’m still mostly anonymous but there’s always a part of me that wants me to hold back as there are people who know me IRL who do read the blog. We’ll see what happens.
Thanks for commenting as always!
You are beautiful in your authenticity and in your vulnerability. I wish you every blessing that you could wish yourself- and more.
Thank you so much Geoff 🙂 You were one of my early commenters who kept me going!
Beautiful writing emerges from vulnerability 🙂
Your post resonates with me. Like you, I tend to be private in real life but vulnerable in my writing. I wasn’t expecting many people to read my thoughts, but once traction occurred it was terrifying. You are probably doing more good with your blog than you realize. Keep up the writing- I am late in finding your site but will be following!
Thanks so much for the kind words! I went to check out your blog and realized I had read your Retired at 37 post a while ago on KevinMD and it greatly resonated (and still resonates) with me! I’m just honoured you’ve somehow found my little corner of the internet and commented. I tend to be a lurker, but I should probably start commenting on others’ posts because this just made my day 🙂