Friends,

 

I was running into a clinic a few weeks ago and glanced into the passenger seat of the car next to me. This is what I saw – a bit of trash on the floor, some wrappers, and garbage of a busy driver. Something haphazardly strewn in a moment of rushing. And I saw an empty bowl with a spoon on the seat – some type of yogurt, the creamy residue was left in the bowl after a busy breakfast on the way to work. And here was my immediate thought: Whose bowl is this? Was she rushing into work after scarfing down a parfait in traffic? Was he getting his teen to eat just a bit before school while dashing into clinic? Was this a lunch break in someone’s car as the only respite from patients? Was the bowl from this morning or days ago, now forgotten?

This is my bowl.

This is your bowl.

It’s all too busy right now. It’s rushed and chaotic and we are being asked to solve problems that are brand new to us or that we have limited resources to solve. We are rushing into work, out of work, cramming in an endless task of to-do’s during an unprecedented time of continual barriers. We are having to justify our opinion and expertise. And we are supposed to balance our work with self-care, family care, partner care, aging parent care, child care, and the like.

Can you stop and feel this for a moment?

One of the largest contributors to burnout is emotional exhaustion. And the only cure for emotional exhaustion? Feel the feelings. Yep. Sorry if that’s not you; but we must begin. And if you can’t begin for you, can you feel it for this person? The person with the forgotten bowl?

I had SO much empathy for him or her. I had tears in my eyes and no judgment in my heart. Probably because it hit so close to home. What had I rushed through that day? A meal? A hug? A sweet text? My shower? Saying goodbye to my kids before school?

We must begin to feel our feelings. I know it’s scary to many of you. I know some of you are thinking, “If I feel my feelings, I’ll never come out of it.” But the truth is that the sooner we acknowledge the pain, it dissipates; and the more we ignore pain, the bigger it grows. Think of emotional pain like an incessant toddler knocking on the door for attention. Or the dinging that happens in your car until you put on your seat belt. It demands to be heard.

Once we acknowledge emotional pain and overwhelm, then we can begin to address it. So, that’s the first step. Saying, “this is too much for me right now” or “I’m lonely in this pain and unsure what to do” or noticing someone else’s overwhelm and saying, “me too.”

Send me a picture of your passenger seat – I embrace all of your mess!

Once we tackle step one, we’ll move on to step two. Messy bowls, for now, my friends.

With compassion,

Dr. Amy

Friends,

This is a quick note to all of you. During this week of gratitude and giving thanks, I wanted to give something back to all of you. Over the past many months, so many of you have reached out and trusted me with your stories of overwhelm. Stories of compassion fatigue. Stories of self-doubt, frustration, optimism and distraught. Thank you for trusting me as a colleague and professional who holds that space with you.

Above I’ve attached the recent workshop that I gave for medical providers. So, even if you didn’t register, or if you weren’t able to attend, it’s here for you. Watch, listen, throw on ear buds and walk. Whatever works for you. It’s about 45 minutes on how to address burnout and overwhelm. My hope is that it offers a few nuggets of insight and, then, perhaps your heart can rest with less angst as we head into holidays.

With immense gratitude and partnership,

Dr. Amy

 

Hey friends, Have you heard of the term “pacesetter?” If you’ve entered running races, swimming events, biking races, or the like, you’ve probably heard about pacesetters in that context. A pacesetter is a person who does exactly that: sets the pace for others. In a moment, I’m going to make the argument that I can be your pacesetter for navigating stress and decreasing burnout, but more on that later. In a large race, you’ll find a person holding a sign or leading a group with a paced time on it. Before high-tech gear, a pacesetter would have one of those sandwich board that said “10 min mile” and would encourage others who aspired to run a 10-minute mile to run with them, assuring a finishing time that met their goals. See where I’m going here? And, by the way, don’t judge me for running a 10-minute mile as a reference point. 10 minute miles get the job done! But I digress… What we’re all going through as helpers during the middle of the pandemic is nothing short of an ultra-marathon. Not a 5K or 10K as we initially thought. Heck, this pandemic isn’t even a marathon…but an ultra-marathon. We’re going to need more than good sneakers, Gu and some inspirational beats to get through all of this. We need a pacesetter. May I be your pacesetter? You see, as medical providers, you’re trained to put on a brave face and help others, even during the most trying times. But the last year and a half have been exhausting. Am I right? And it’s difficult to find respite, purpose, and sift through all of the messages of self-care. How are you supposed to do that while running a clinic, seeing patients, taking care of your staff, and rolling out vaccines? I’m here to help. I am hosting a workshop this week– to give you practical tools to feel less burned out so you can practice meaningful medicine. As soon as the pandemic hit, I began reaching out to medical providers, clinics, and hospitals about how I might help. I spoke with medical directors in tears, providers in panic, and distraught colleagues. I knew we had to focus on practical tools to mitigate the effects of the pandemic and see this as an ultra-marathon if we were going to make it through intact. Earlier in this newsletter series, we began with acknowledgment. Acknowledgment begins a healing process. Then we moved into support and resources. And now, as we begin to reconcile with what we’ve been through (and still have curveballs thrown at us) and what we continue to go through, we need ways to navigate the uncertainty of primary care. We need practical tools and actionable next steps to make sense of what’s happening and clear the way for a meaningful path forward. Here’s exactly what we’ll be covering in the webinar if you join me: Recognizing the signs of burnout Understanding compounding stress and its effect on us Practical tools to address overwhelm Actionable tools to deal with uncertainty Ways to find purpose Moving into community   The workshop will take place this Wednesday, November 10th at 6:00 pm PST. Register at https://doctoramyllc.mykajabi.com/registration-page Come and run a 10-minute mile with me! Or just come, drink wine and listen. It’s better in company! With compassion, Dr. Amy

Friends,

A young nurse and I spoke recently about her experience of secondary trauma. She indicated how she’s worried about her small patients and the tiniest of errors she might make that could have life-altering results. She admitted to ruminating about drawing blood from PICC-lines, moisture in ventilators, and uninvolved parents in patient care. She reported worrying about COVID, TBI, and violence even when she’s not at the hospital. She exhibiting symptoms of early career compassion fatigue and vicarious trauma.

I sat. I listened. She was tearful and full of anxiety. We discussed the pressures of medical care and the drive for perfection. She also admitted that she was terrified to talk with colleagues about her worries, fear of mistakes or overwhelm because she was certain that they would see her as incompetent.

Any of this sound familiar?

We live in a performative society. Medical models perpetuate a complexity of perfection, hero complex and unreasonable expectations of human performance. And, by the way, all of that cloaked in messages of stoicism. Never let them see you sweat. Save others, deal with your needs later. Don’t talk about overwhelm or uncertainty for fear of looking incompetent. And self-care? It’s a great idea…for someone else.

I’m not going to scold you or shame you or even judge you for the space that’s been created – not by you, but through decades of creating a culture of perfection and performance. But what I am asking, in fact begging of you is this: Can you put down your capes? Not always, but sometimes? You are heroes but you need not be heroic all of the time. Medicine can be BOTH life-saving and life-draining. It can be fulfilling and exhausting. Recognize that the cape is heavy and after 18 months of healing during a pandemic, it’s a bit tattered.

I simply want to provide a space where you can be human, seen and accepted for being a WHOLE person. Healing begins with acknowledgement. Often from others first, then through grace and self-compassion, for ourselves.

You can pick the cape up later, I promise. Or change in a nearby phone booth – wink.

PS – if you’d like to take my newest creation for providers – Healthcare Provider Burnout Quiz, you can find it here and share with friends. Let’s continue to talk about all of the overwhelm!

With compassion,

Dr. Amy