Writing
Day 4: Why I write about health?...because I believe we all hope to live our days without pain and in full vitality. I know some things you may not. I've seen some things others may not have noticed. If I share these things perhaps we'll all benefit. By writing I hope to keep my children safe and spare them some of my own suffering. Because if I write often enough, and hard enough, and long enough my voice will become clear, unique, and vital. I write because I must.
I'm writing to clear the fog from my thinking. To describe...to describe so carefully that I am really seeing.
I am writing to transform this life. To transform other lives.
Today my friend and I listened to a woman, a very angry woman, pretend she had transformed by alchemy the cancer death of her husband and the miserable indignities he suffered during his brief and horrible illness into paintings. She feigned power and happiness as she shrieked unprocessed anger and grief. When the presentation was over I felt like I'd been abused myself by her harangue. What was meant to inspire me to provide better patient care, made me feel numb and ill. My friend and I both fled the conference early. We felt compelled to clear our heads and hearts. Strangely we noted we both were incredibly hungry, though it was just a couple hours after lunchtime. I craved BBQ, she a cheeseburger; both moist, oily, nourishing foods. What did these cravings signify? I wondered if anyone had ever correlated trauma or biochemistry with food cravings. As we struggled to clear the pall of negativity we carried away from this psychic assault, we felt that if we had been able to be truly compassionate in that moment as we listened to her troubling story, we would have gone up on stage with this woman and held her. Just quietly held her.
I'm writing to clear the fog from my thinking. To describe...to describe so carefully that I am really seeing.
I am writing to transform this life. To transform other lives.
Today my friend and I listened to a woman, a very angry woman, pretend she had transformed by alchemy the cancer death of her husband and the miserable indignities he suffered during his brief and horrible illness into paintings. She feigned power and happiness as she shrieked unprocessed anger and grief. When the presentation was over I felt like I'd been abused myself by her harangue. What was meant to inspire me to provide better patient care, made me feel numb and ill. My friend and I both fled the conference early. We felt compelled to clear our heads and hearts. Strangely we noted we both were incredibly hungry, though it was just a couple hours after lunchtime. I craved BBQ, she a cheeseburger; both moist, oily, nourishing foods. What did these cravings signify? I wondered if anyone had ever correlated trauma or biochemistry with food cravings. As we struggled to clear the pall of negativity we carried away from this psychic assault, we felt that if we had been able to be truly compassionate in that moment as we listened to her troubling story, we would have gone up on stage with this woman and held her. Just quietly held her.
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