Hello friends and colleagues,

I was recently doing some deep introspection about “being cared for” as I continue to research and create ideas around ways to respond to moral distress for providers. If you already know this is you or a colleague you love, please sign up for my free workshop at the end of the month here. Moral distress lies in a gap between what someone feels like he/she should do and what resources or capacities are allowed or available. Recent examples I have heard from providers include knowing that patients need routine tests that are preventative in nature, but feeling powerless as those get pushed off to treat acute COVID patients. Or, a critical care nurse that grieved the chasm between wanting a family member to be with a patient who was dying and hospital policy around visitors. Those gaps create space where distress grows.

In a moment of my own distress recently, a wise mentor asked me a question. She said, “Can you remember a time that you felt cared for even when you were going through something really hard? A time when your only job was to receive care during or after a tumultuous time?” I thought hard. As helpers in healthcare, selflessness is prized. Being compassionate, serving others, endless extension of empathic healing, and sympathetic listening abounds. But after two years (not to mention how many providers were already on the brink of burnout BEFORE this pandemic) we are TIRED. And regarding moral distress, we are tired of sacrificing what we know to be right for patients and for ourselves. But I dug deep and this is what I remembered:

I used to run half marathons frequently and I have run one full marathon. Never again, to be clear. I’m just sayin’ that if you’re a marathon runner, wow. But I do LOVE half marathons. If you haven’t read the newsletter about finding your pacesetter, please get caught up! For so many of us, this pandemic has felt like an endless marathon. An ultra-marathon. We keep telling ourselves and reminding ourselves that this is a long haul. But two years? And now entering the third? I mean, this is NOT over – but I’m preaching to the choir and I digress…

At the end of half and full marathons (as well as other endurance races) there are angels. I don’t know what else to call them. These angels are incredible people, usually volunteers, and their ONLY job is to take care of runners as they cross the finish line. Imagine this: You pour out sweat, preparation, feelings, grit and run as your legs that you’ve been training on swiftly (or barely) cross the finish line. And this angel comes with a foil/mylar blanket and wraps it around you. Then she ushers you over to a small stool where all you have to do is lift your leg slightly and she takes your race chip off of your shoe. The angel, arm still around you to make sure your blanket stays on so your body can retain its heat, then ushers you to the next angel. This angel puts a medal around your neck and points you to an angel station. The angel station is full of helpers whose only job is to give you orange slices, Gatorade, and other foods to replace your expended energy. There are pictures, balloon arches, massage tables and celebration abounds. After hours of running, these angels’ sole purpose is your care and safety. Imagine that.

When was the last time you felt this? If you’re like me, you had to really dig deep. Do you have a memory of being taken care of so tenderly? The reason I’m asking is important. If we can access these memories, it reminds our bodies of the importance of being cared for in a selfless way. We do it so often for others, but not often for ourselves. 

When was the last time YOUR ONLY JOB was to receive care (or tenderness or compassion or strength or love) from another person? Or from yourself? Where do you find it?

• • • On a run?
    • Stretching during yoga?
    • In a synagogue or mosque or church?
    • Lying on a massage table?
    • Getting a foot rub?
    • Holding yourself as you cry in the shower?
    • With your dog or cat?
    • Singing with your bestie?
    • Driving on a back road with your partner?
    • Receiving a gift or card?
    • Laughing?
    • Allowing someone to make you a meal?
    • Receiving a hug?

 

Tell me – I want to know. Where are you building muscle memory for self-compassion, when your job or someone else’s job is only tending to you? Write back and let me know a space of solace for you. Your words & actions just might help someone else.

And if you haven’t yet, please join me and your colleagues on March 30th for a FREE workshop, just for you, on moral distress.

With kindness,

Dr. Amy