In my last posting I approached the topic of allowing my work days to become a "grind' or an assembly line of sorts. I've recently been thinking about this topic as it applies to other areas of my life in Milwaukee.
I had the privilege of hosting one Claire Siegel in my home for 4 days last weekend. It was not only a wonderful slice of home and love and happiness, but also forced me to have a little bit of perspective on my life here. We were talking one night about some of the nuances of community life and how we are all getting along etc, etc. I found myself in a state of discontent with the way some things were going and had a fairly negative tone to my voice. Her response to me however (after a few minutes of what I thought was complaining) was this:
"Wow, what a beautiful group of people you live with"
With a very simple statement, my perspective shifted. Isn't it true that sometimes it takes an outside voice to help you see beyond the daily habits that might annoy you or small personality traits that build up until you can't stand them anymore? With this conversation I started to notice again how beautiful indeed the people I live with are. Even in the habits that annoy me, there is so much love and intention in these people.
After this conversation, I started to notice other places where a new perspective caught me off guard. One of these places is in the changing weather in Milwaukee. It snowed for the first time last week, and I most certainly took a break from work to run around in it. It was a beautiful day that followed with sunshine and snow. Our house was freezing cold when I got home from work, and I turned the heat on as I walked upstairs and put on comfy clothes and made a cup of tea; a ritual that has become commonplace for many of us as the winter approaches. I came to work the next day and started chatting with one of my patients about how cozy the weather was. Her response to me was this:
"I'm so happy you are enjoying Wisconsin! We can't afford to turn our heat on until it gets real cold. I'm hoping I can find my grandbabies some winter coats so they can sleep."
Again, a simple statement with no hint of disdain or frustration. Just the facts. Now, I think of her each time I turn my heat on, go upstairs, and drink warm tea. I hear myself complain about being cold sometimes. It's like a habit. Weather gets cold, cue complaints. Perspective. I have heat, tea, warm clothing, warm hugs, warm food. A reminder to break that grind and live in habits of gratitude and awareness instead.
One more perspective shift to add to this mix. Climate change and natural disaster are buzz words that are thrown around often, especially with a Jesuit education. Each time destruction hits, I engage in the same pattern: Think and pray for the people affected, express frustration with global warming, and engage in the conversation about relief efforts. This year has offered a new perspective recently, starting with the typhoon that devastated the Philippines last week. One of our roommates has multiple family members who live and work in a town that experienced much devastation. The numbers suddenly became cousins, aunts, and uncles. The relief effort from our house will be funneled directly to a place where someone we care deeply about has childhood memories and people he loves. It is so easy for us to allow suffering that don't personally affect us to become a routine. I often forget that every time disaster strikes there are aunts and cousins and memories. This week has been a humbling realization that I have really never taken enough time to stop and think about what it means for a storm to wipe out a city. Even more recently tornadoes hit the Midwest and destroyed multiple towns this weekend. We were all sitting in the dining room when emergency alerts were sent to our phones and the tornado warning sirens started going off on our street. We were perfectly safe and in all honesty didn't even move to our basement or take any precautions, but it was a small reminder to keep some perspective. For many people close by, those alarms meant total destruction of their homes and neighborhoods.
Be it climate change, community life, privilege, etc., I find it difficult to approach each with a fresh sense of perspective everyday. It is extremely exhausting to allow things to affect and shape us everyday. Most of the time I'd rather let it sit in a pile and build a wall around me so I can keep moving from one thing to the next.
Here's to some fresh perspective making that pile a little smaller this month.
Monday, November 18, 2013
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
The Grind
There are many reasons I haven't taken some time to blog lately, but the one that seems to have hindered me the most is that I have felt completely exhausted lately. Physically and emotionally drained. I come home from work and sit down with the intention of never standing again. I have recently said I will never ever make fun of my dad for falling asleep on the couch every single night (sorry, Dad!) because now I get it.
Last week felt more exhausting than most. I saw more patients in a day than I ever thought was physically possible in our tiny clinic. I was here extra long hours and felt like all I was doing was working, sleeping, and eating. My boss took me out for brunch Thursday (the best boss), and confronted my fatigue head on. He said something along these lines:
"Abbey, you've let it become a grind. You see patients and just want to keep them moving and get the next one ready."
He was referring especially to a conversation he overheard between me and one of my favorite patients in which she was sharing with me some really difficult news that she had received that weekend. I was unable to engage with her, because I was so exhausted that I was barely listening. I was initially taken aback by his statement thinking. "How the heck do you expect me to engage with everyone when we see 50 people in one day??" But as I thought about it the next day at work and over the weekend, I realized how true it really was.
I'm currently reading, Tattoos on the Heart, an account of gang life in LA as told by a Jesuit priest Fr. Gregory Boyle. The chapters are full of stories of his work with current and former gang members and the neighborhoods of LA. He tells the story of one girl who had been locked up for awhile and was really difficult and gave him loads of attitude. She comes to his office one day and he recollects a certain sense of annoyance that he felt that she was there. She began to tell him a story, at this point I don't really remember what it was about, and as she is talking begins to feel shame because he had seen her as an interruption to his day.
How true is it that often times our days become a series of assembly lines and to-do lists. We grumble at the people who interrupt our routine and make us stray from this path we have created with the idea that it is the best and most productive way to get us out of work and back home to the couch. This is how we let our days become a grind. This is how we let fatigue take over and put our bodies into autopilot.
This week I have attempted to slow down and re-engage. Allow conversations with patients to last longer than I think they should. Let charts sit in a stack for 5 more minutes so I can ask someone about their day, and actually hear the response. I feel much less tired today. Part of it is that I sleep better at night, but more importantly I think it's because I spend less energy fighting off the "interruptions" in my day. My conversations feel more genuine, and for that reason, much more life-giving and energizing.
Here's to fighting the grind this week and every week. Because in reality, what's more important than building relationships and having genuine interactions? Certainly not my couch or the nap I've been dreaming about that's for sure.
Last week felt more exhausting than most. I saw more patients in a day than I ever thought was physically possible in our tiny clinic. I was here extra long hours and felt like all I was doing was working, sleeping, and eating. My boss took me out for brunch Thursday (the best boss), and confronted my fatigue head on. He said something along these lines:
"Abbey, you've let it become a grind. You see patients and just want to keep them moving and get the next one ready."
He was referring especially to a conversation he overheard between me and one of my favorite patients in which she was sharing with me some really difficult news that she had received that weekend. I was unable to engage with her, because I was so exhausted that I was barely listening. I was initially taken aback by his statement thinking. "How the heck do you expect me to engage with everyone when we see 50 people in one day??" But as I thought about it the next day at work and over the weekend, I realized how true it really was.
I'm currently reading, Tattoos on the Heart, an account of gang life in LA as told by a Jesuit priest Fr. Gregory Boyle. The chapters are full of stories of his work with current and former gang members and the neighborhoods of LA. He tells the story of one girl who had been locked up for awhile and was really difficult and gave him loads of attitude. She comes to his office one day and he recollects a certain sense of annoyance that he felt that she was there. She began to tell him a story, at this point I don't really remember what it was about, and as she is talking begins to feel shame because he had seen her as an interruption to his day.
How true is it that often times our days become a series of assembly lines and to-do lists. We grumble at the people who interrupt our routine and make us stray from this path we have created with the idea that it is the best and most productive way to get us out of work and back home to the couch. This is how we let our days become a grind. This is how we let fatigue take over and put our bodies into autopilot.
This week I have attempted to slow down and re-engage. Allow conversations with patients to last longer than I think they should. Let charts sit in a stack for 5 more minutes so I can ask someone about their day, and actually hear the response. I feel much less tired today. Part of it is that I sleep better at night, but more importantly I think it's because I spend less energy fighting off the "interruptions" in my day. My conversations feel more genuine, and for that reason, much more life-giving and energizing.
Here's to fighting the grind this week and every week. Because in reality, what's more important than building relationships and having genuine interactions? Certainly not my couch or the nap I've been dreaming about that's for sure.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
An Education
Today is October 1st which means two very important things in my life. Number 1: My favorite month has just begun and the leaves are changing colors which made my walk to work this morning extremely enjoyable. The calendar is already full of fall activities and outings. Also, my house is decorated for Halloween (thanks lyss), so again, October is starting out on the right foot.
Number 2: Today, is the beginning of the new fiscal year which means many things for many people, but I'll just focus on how it affects my reality on this Tuesday. At Bread of Healing, we are starting to get our patients signed up for insurance under the Affordable Care Act. We have two full-time staff people newly trained and poised to begin this process when the clinic opens in half an hour. I entered the office today to a flurry of "Happy insurance day!" and physicians with smiles plastered on their faces. A sense of hope is palpable amongst all our staff and many of our patients. We have flyers and power points and other educational material ready to hand out as the questions come flooding in today. In light of recent events in Congress, I imagine that today will be FULL of questions, concern, confusion, hope, excitement, promise, the list goes on and on. Many of the most vulnerable in our midst will gain some form of a safety net starting today if things go as previously planned. There is much to discuss, and be excited about...but for me there is much more to learn.
As the day begins, I am stuck on a conversation that I had with a patient yesterday. It was nearing the end of the day and he was waiting to see a doctor, so I sat down in the room with him to chat for awhile. We talked about what's happening in the news as we usually do, and he started telling me about the information session he went to about the new insurance exchanges in Wisconsin. I sat and listened for awhile, before I realized that I knew VERY little about what he was telling me. His monthly income qualifies him to sign up for the exchanges with co-pays, and he was expressing some frustration about the lack of information he was given about just how much he would have to pay, and how everything would really work. I tried my best to contribute to the conversation, but I was really lost. The questions came flooding in:
"So Abbey, explain this to me, they want me to give up my free care here and buy into something that half of the government doesn't even agree with or face some kind of a tax penalty? Does that seem fair to you?"
"How much is this actually gonna cost me?"
"Is it true that my premium will cost me more because I live in Milwaukee county where there is more trauma like gun shots and gang violence? Are they really gonna tell all the poor people in this city that they should pay more than those people in the suburbs?"
And lastly, "Why aren't you answering me? You don't know?"
Bingo. I don't know. I'm a well-educated healthcare professional who is struggling just as much as my patients to understand these changes. Here's a tip to all of you Seattle U nursing students- ask your professors why this is never talked about in school. We are taught how to work in a system without ever being taught how the system works. We discharge patients all the time without a thought as to where they might be getting their medications when the ones we send them home with run out. Here I was expected to know how to help someone understand their reality and I really just didn't know.
Yesterday, I was very humbled by the fact that I am not that well-equipped for today. I don't have all the answers. In fact, many of my patients have been educating me in the past few weeks. Granted I have spent loads of time reading and trying to understand everything myself, but still anticipate today will be full of: "I'm sorry (insert name here) I wish that I had a better answer for you."
As classes get going this week in Seattle, I am left to reflect on the reality of my education. What I learned in a classroom is a foundation for many things that I do during the day, but has still left me extremely unprepared for the reality in which most of my patients live and receive healthcare. I will work very hard today to teach and serve to the best of my abilities while acknowledging that constant nagging feeling that reminds me that I still have so much to learn and be taught. I sit full of hope as the clinic chatters with change today.
Happy October 1st. I hope we all learn something from the events of today and remember the people whose voices aren't heard in the decisions of many who are trusted to represent them.
Number 2: Today, is the beginning of the new fiscal year which means many things for many people, but I'll just focus on how it affects my reality on this Tuesday. At Bread of Healing, we are starting to get our patients signed up for insurance under the Affordable Care Act. We have two full-time staff people newly trained and poised to begin this process when the clinic opens in half an hour. I entered the office today to a flurry of "Happy insurance day!" and physicians with smiles plastered on their faces. A sense of hope is palpable amongst all our staff and many of our patients. We have flyers and power points and other educational material ready to hand out as the questions come flooding in today. In light of recent events in Congress, I imagine that today will be FULL of questions, concern, confusion, hope, excitement, promise, the list goes on and on. Many of the most vulnerable in our midst will gain some form of a safety net starting today if things go as previously planned. There is much to discuss, and be excited about...but for me there is much more to learn.
As the day begins, I am stuck on a conversation that I had with a patient yesterday. It was nearing the end of the day and he was waiting to see a doctor, so I sat down in the room with him to chat for awhile. We talked about what's happening in the news as we usually do, and he started telling me about the information session he went to about the new insurance exchanges in Wisconsin. I sat and listened for awhile, before I realized that I knew VERY little about what he was telling me. His monthly income qualifies him to sign up for the exchanges with co-pays, and he was expressing some frustration about the lack of information he was given about just how much he would have to pay, and how everything would really work. I tried my best to contribute to the conversation, but I was really lost. The questions came flooding in:
"So Abbey, explain this to me, they want me to give up my free care here and buy into something that half of the government doesn't even agree with or face some kind of a tax penalty? Does that seem fair to you?"
"How much is this actually gonna cost me?"
"Is it true that my premium will cost me more because I live in Milwaukee county where there is more trauma like gun shots and gang violence? Are they really gonna tell all the poor people in this city that they should pay more than those people in the suburbs?"
And lastly, "Why aren't you answering me? You don't know?"
Bingo. I don't know. I'm a well-educated healthcare professional who is struggling just as much as my patients to understand these changes. Here's a tip to all of you Seattle U nursing students- ask your professors why this is never talked about in school. We are taught how to work in a system without ever being taught how the system works. We discharge patients all the time without a thought as to where they might be getting their medications when the ones we send them home with run out. Here I was expected to know how to help someone understand their reality and I really just didn't know.
Yesterday, I was very humbled by the fact that I am not that well-equipped for today. I don't have all the answers. In fact, many of my patients have been educating me in the past few weeks. Granted I have spent loads of time reading and trying to understand everything myself, but still anticipate today will be full of: "I'm sorry (insert name here) I wish that I had a better answer for you."
As classes get going this week in Seattle, I am left to reflect on the reality of my education. What I learned in a classroom is a foundation for many things that I do during the day, but has still left me extremely unprepared for the reality in which most of my patients live and receive healthcare. I will work very hard today to teach and serve to the best of my abilities while acknowledging that constant nagging feeling that reminds me that I still have so much to learn and be taught. I sit full of hope as the clinic chatters with change today.
Happy October 1st. I hope we all learn something from the events of today and remember the people whose voices aren't heard in the decisions of many who are trusted to represent them.
Monday, September 16, 2013
Getting used to it.
In the space between this post and the last, I have had a very difficult time sorting out how I'm feeling, what is interesting to share, what should be kept to myself, and in the end- what is most necessary for people to know.
Something that has been on my mind a lot lately is the experience of being a woman in Milwaukee. I have grown up and been educated in such a way that I have rarely ever felt held back by my gender. In fact, most of my life it has been just the opposite. I spent a lot of time in college reflecting on the systems of privilege and oppression that are acting in my life (shout out Nick Cubita), but that introspection has taken a very different journey in Milwaukee.
In Seattle, I grew accustomed to taking long walks or drives in my neighborhood at any time of day. I could walk one block and sit in a clean and safe park where I could sit and stare at the sun setting behind the Olympic mountain range. In Milwaukee, I feel uncomfortable walking outside alone at any time of day, and there are no clean parks in sight. I get to work about an hour early most days because it is when I can travel safely with one of my boy roommates. The short walk I take alone between our service sites is frequently interrupted by catcalls or even a car pulling over encouraging me to get in. Keep in mind this is all around 8am on a beautiful autumn day. The frustration in knowing that I can't walk anywhere alone in the area around my house or my job is crippling. I have always coped with the stress of life by walking and thinking and reading in parks. This year, I am almost completely dependent on other people to accompany me in activities that have become intimately connected with the core of who I am. The stubborn side of me likes to push the limits of this dependency and escape alone into our neighborhood. Each time I have been forced home by the uncomfortable feeling that I am extremely vulnerable.
This reality is shocking to me. Every morning and afternoon I have to plan my commute home around someone else. I can't walk to the grocery store to pick up something we forgot for dinner. I am a proud and independent woman who has had to swallow a big piece of humble pie and admit that I need other people to keep me safe. Aside from my stubbornness, admitting to this reality has forced me to think long and hard about the reality of human relationships. Coming into this year, I was looking forward to engaging with a new community and neighborhood. I never once thought that there would be people who didn't really want to engage with me. It has taken me about this long to think that it is okay to pay attention the feeling in my gut that says, "Abbey you aren't safe here". That doesn't have to mean that I am furthering stereotypes or not giving a person a fair chance. It means that I am paying attention to the reality of my situation.
This isn't to say that there aren't wonderful parts about our neighborhood like our next door neighbor who weeds our lawn and brings us tomatoes. It also doesn't mean that Milwaukee is a terrible place to be. It is a beautiful city with so much culture and history.
It is a constant struggle to give up parts of my independence. It feels almost as though I am giving up parts of who I am and coping skills that I have spent so long perfecting. I get so angry every time one of the boys leaves the house alone and walks to the gym or to play basketball. I want to believe that time and some TLC will make me immune to the reality that I am held back by part of my identity that I have been raised to be proud of. But, everyday when I cross into the four blocks surrounding our house, I still get a sinking feeling in my stomach. I remember walking in silence with my roommate one day last week and crossing that threshold. He broke the silence of my thoughts by looking around and saying, "I don't think I'm ever going to get used to this."
At first, I was saddened by that thought, but after a couple of blocks, I was energized by it. We aren't supposed to get used to it. Our discomfort should be a foundation for conversation and change, not something we get used to. I don't live in fear or anger at my reality, but committed to it. Like I said, this is one of those things that I felt was necessary to share. It is hard to talk about because I don't want to take away from the wonderful parts of our neighborhood and community as there are many, but it is important to pay attention to feelings of discomfort too.
This city has already opened my eyes and heart to realities I didn't know existed. Here's to hoping that I never get used to any of them. .
Something that has been on my mind a lot lately is the experience of being a woman in Milwaukee. I have grown up and been educated in such a way that I have rarely ever felt held back by my gender. In fact, most of my life it has been just the opposite. I spent a lot of time in college reflecting on the systems of privilege and oppression that are acting in my life (shout out Nick Cubita), but that introspection has taken a very different journey in Milwaukee.
In Seattle, I grew accustomed to taking long walks or drives in my neighborhood at any time of day. I could walk one block and sit in a clean and safe park where I could sit and stare at the sun setting behind the Olympic mountain range. In Milwaukee, I feel uncomfortable walking outside alone at any time of day, and there are no clean parks in sight. I get to work about an hour early most days because it is when I can travel safely with one of my boy roommates. The short walk I take alone between our service sites is frequently interrupted by catcalls or even a car pulling over encouraging me to get in. Keep in mind this is all around 8am on a beautiful autumn day. The frustration in knowing that I can't walk anywhere alone in the area around my house or my job is crippling. I have always coped with the stress of life by walking and thinking and reading in parks. This year, I am almost completely dependent on other people to accompany me in activities that have become intimately connected with the core of who I am. The stubborn side of me likes to push the limits of this dependency and escape alone into our neighborhood. Each time I have been forced home by the uncomfortable feeling that I am extremely vulnerable.
This reality is shocking to me. Every morning and afternoon I have to plan my commute home around someone else. I can't walk to the grocery store to pick up something we forgot for dinner. I am a proud and independent woman who has had to swallow a big piece of humble pie and admit that I need other people to keep me safe. Aside from my stubbornness, admitting to this reality has forced me to think long and hard about the reality of human relationships. Coming into this year, I was looking forward to engaging with a new community and neighborhood. I never once thought that there would be people who didn't really want to engage with me. It has taken me about this long to think that it is okay to pay attention the feeling in my gut that says, "Abbey you aren't safe here". That doesn't have to mean that I am furthering stereotypes or not giving a person a fair chance. It means that I am paying attention to the reality of my situation.
This isn't to say that there aren't wonderful parts about our neighborhood like our next door neighbor who weeds our lawn and brings us tomatoes. It also doesn't mean that Milwaukee is a terrible place to be. It is a beautiful city with so much culture and history.
It is a constant struggle to give up parts of my independence. It feels almost as though I am giving up parts of who I am and coping skills that I have spent so long perfecting. I get so angry every time one of the boys leaves the house alone and walks to the gym or to play basketball. I want to believe that time and some TLC will make me immune to the reality that I am held back by part of my identity that I have been raised to be proud of. But, everyday when I cross into the four blocks surrounding our house, I still get a sinking feeling in my stomach. I remember walking in silence with my roommate one day last week and crossing that threshold. He broke the silence of my thoughts by looking around and saying, "I don't think I'm ever going to get used to this."
At first, I was saddened by that thought, but after a couple of blocks, I was energized by it. We aren't supposed to get used to it. Our discomfort should be a foundation for conversation and change, not something we get used to. I don't live in fear or anger at my reality, but committed to it. Like I said, this is one of those things that I felt was necessary to share. It is hard to talk about because I don't want to take away from the wonderful parts of our neighborhood and community as there are many, but it is important to pay attention to feelings of discomfort too.
This city has already opened my eyes and heart to realities I didn't know existed. Here's to hoping that I never get used to any of them. .
Friday, September 6, 2013
Comfort
Today I got most of the day off of work and find myself sitting outside of a coffee shop on Lake Michigan. I just finished a delicious sandwich and am savoring the first iced latte I've had since leaving Seattle.
As I enjoy the tranquility of the afternoon, I find myself almost forgetting where I am. A beautiful lake, some coffee, and a book feel just like most of the days I spent in Seattle this summer. I am feeling a joy unlike any I have had since moving here. I am peaceful and comfortable partaking in a routine that I have spent most of my adult life creating. It isn't hard for me to forget the stress of my work week or the struggles of my patients. In the midst of the comfort of my afternoon, there is a constant feeling that keeps popping up and reminding me that this is just the illusion of home.
As I look around me, I recognize very little. There are the landmarks that I know from exploring the area this month, of course, but still nothing feels like it is a part of my world. I don't know anyone who is sitting near me, or the name of the neighborhood where I am. It still shocks me sometimes to see only Wisconsin license plates on the cars driving by.
I liken this feeling to the first few months of college. I know only 7 people my age in a city I've never been to. I don't have my favorite neighborhood place to grab a beer after work, or my secret beach where I can go look at Mt. Rainier. I don't have friends who live nearby to call and say get a book and come join me here. I feel lost and a little stagnant. I'm unsure of where to go and feel like I've bored my roommates half to death with my stories.
It is a humbling experience to leave behind what is comfortable to engage in something new. My roommates and I talk a lot about the importance of engaging with the people around us on a daily basis by offering a smile or a good morning to people we pass on the street rather than retreating to a phone or some other distraction. We talk about it in reference to the people we serve and the neighborhood we live in sometimes as if it is an abstract concept that doesn't really apply to us. But, as I sit here in this coffee shop, I savor every smile or hello that comes my way. I don't remember a time when I have relied so heavily on small interactions with strangers to fill my people quota for the day. I appreciate so much every person that takes an extra second to acknowledge me. In paying attention to that feeling, I wouldn't say I'm lonely or sad in any way, but more longing for the comfort of belonging.
I really just want to know Milwaukee and the people in it. I know that it takes a long time to create a community in a new place, and that will come with time. So, for now I am grateful for the people who welcome me with a simple smile or nod in my direction. I will continue to appreciate the comfort of an afternoon filled with my favorite things and continue to explore and build a new home.
As I enjoy the tranquility of the afternoon, I find myself almost forgetting where I am. A beautiful lake, some coffee, and a book feel just like most of the days I spent in Seattle this summer. I am feeling a joy unlike any I have had since moving here. I am peaceful and comfortable partaking in a routine that I have spent most of my adult life creating. It isn't hard for me to forget the stress of my work week or the struggles of my patients. In the midst of the comfort of my afternoon, there is a constant feeling that keeps popping up and reminding me that this is just the illusion of home.
As I look around me, I recognize very little. There are the landmarks that I know from exploring the area this month, of course, but still nothing feels like it is a part of my world. I don't know anyone who is sitting near me, or the name of the neighborhood where I am. It still shocks me sometimes to see only Wisconsin license plates on the cars driving by.
I liken this feeling to the first few months of college. I know only 7 people my age in a city I've never been to. I don't have my favorite neighborhood place to grab a beer after work, or my secret beach where I can go look at Mt. Rainier. I don't have friends who live nearby to call and say get a book and come join me here. I feel lost and a little stagnant. I'm unsure of where to go and feel like I've bored my roommates half to death with my stories.
It is a humbling experience to leave behind what is comfortable to engage in something new. My roommates and I talk a lot about the importance of engaging with the people around us on a daily basis by offering a smile or a good morning to people we pass on the street rather than retreating to a phone or some other distraction. We talk about it in reference to the people we serve and the neighborhood we live in sometimes as if it is an abstract concept that doesn't really apply to us. But, as I sit here in this coffee shop, I savor every smile or hello that comes my way. I don't remember a time when I have relied so heavily on small interactions with strangers to fill my people quota for the day. I appreciate so much every person that takes an extra second to acknowledge me. In paying attention to that feeling, I wouldn't say I'm lonely or sad in any way, but more longing for the comfort of belonging.
I really just want to know Milwaukee and the people in it. I know that it takes a long time to create a community in a new place, and that will come with time. So, for now I am grateful for the people who welcome me with a simple smile or nod in my direction. I will continue to appreciate the comfort of an afternoon filled with my favorite things and continue to explore and build a new home.
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Connection
I've come to realize in my haste to blog the past two weeks that I never really explained the title of my blog. One of the mottos or catchphrases of JVC is that after a year of service you will be "ruined for life". Before I started my year, I had heard this phrase used about my Jesuit education at SU, and often joked about it in conversation with friends. After a month here, I have definitely come to understand it in a whole new way. The impact of the stories I hear, friendships I have formed, and things I have learned have impacted me in a very permanent way. I often find myself projecting what I've learned so far into the years of my life that will follow this one. I know the year has just begun, but I'm fairly certain that my life is beginning to be shaped and "ruined" by what I've learned in Milwaukee. More on that later I'm sure I shouldn't get too ahead of myself.
I spend more time reading this year (finally!), and recently came across a passage in my book that articulated some of this learning and ruining much better than I ever could. The author writes that he feels,
I spend more time reading this year (finally!), and recently came across a passage in my book that articulated some of this learning and ruining much better than I ever could. The author writes that he feels,
"grateful for the world which purposefully puts divisions in place so that we can overcome them, feeling the joy of getting closer, even if deep down we can never forget the sadness of our insurmountable differences"- The History of Love
This passage made me stop and think about many of the connections that I have made here in Milwaukee. As I mentioned in my last post, I have spent a lot of energy so far shifting my perspective to one of permanent gratitude. It is easy to become overwhelmed by the difficulty of creating connections with another person. I know I struggle with this daily at work trying to connect to patients who have struggles unlike any I have ever experienced. This exhausts me at the end of the work day, and then carries over into going home and building community with 7 other people. It has felt at times like an insurmountable task that will be a permanent struggle for me.
But through the exhaustion, there really is so much joy in overcoming division and connecting to another person. This month has had no shortage of this joy.
I think it is important to pay attention to the second half of this passage as well, especially in the context of service to marginalized populations. In building connection, it is also important to remember that there are many ways that I will never be able to relate or connect with my clients. It would be naive of me to expect a deep and intimate connection with everyone I serve this year. But, that in no way should distract me from the gratitude that accompanies overcoming divisions and the joy is present in connection.
Today is the beginning of another week where I hope to live and act in a deep sense of gratitude. Be it for divisions or connections, as both are part of the beauty of building community.
Happy September! Sending all my love.
Friday, August 23, 2013
Home
We have been in Milwaukee for about three weeks at this point. It's hard to believe as time seems to fly by, while simultaneously drag on. On Fridays, our clinic is closed, but for a few patients who come in and see specialists. The quiet of the basement leaves a lot of time for reflection on the events of the week.
Fridays will most likely become my blogging day, so you'll get what you get as my mind wanders in my office.
Today, for many reasons, I have been thinking about home. My mom woke me up this morning with the sad news that one of our family dogs had died. I was expecting the call soon, but still wished more than anything that I could be home with my family this morning. As I hung up the phone, my roommate came in the room, made me breakfast, and comforted me in my home in Milwaukee. Soon after, I talked with my roommate in Seattle about moving out of our home there. After all of my roommates left this morning and I was feeling lonely, I followed my heart to the clinic where I work even though I wasn't expected yet. I wanted to engage with the community here that has already embraced me and made me feel at home.
The events and conversations of this morning have left me sad and tired, but also energized in love. On our orientation retreat a month ago, someone came and spoke to us about engaging in our neighborhoods and the world around us this year. He said something along the lines of "The reason I am sad I leave a place is because I know I have gotten there". I have thought a lot about that this morning as I exist between the many homes I have made. It is a balancing act that illustrates how full and blessed my life has been. I feel sad today because I have lived and loved in so many places. I have been lucky enough to fully engage and arrive in so many places.
Rather than focus on the difficulty of this kind of existence and balance, my goal today is to live in constant gratitude for it. I might not always find the perfect balance, but my heart is full of love for each of my homes and the people that make them up.
"If anybody asks you where your coming from
Say love, say for me love"- The Avett Brothers
Fridays will most likely become my blogging day, so you'll get what you get as my mind wanders in my office.
Today, for many reasons, I have been thinking about home. My mom woke me up this morning with the sad news that one of our family dogs had died. I was expecting the call soon, but still wished more than anything that I could be home with my family this morning. As I hung up the phone, my roommate came in the room, made me breakfast, and comforted me in my home in Milwaukee. Soon after, I talked with my roommate in Seattle about moving out of our home there. After all of my roommates left this morning and I was feeling lonely, I followed my heart to the clinic where I work even though I wasn't expected yet. I wanted to engage with the community here that has already embraced me and made me feel at home.
The events and conversations of this morning have left me sad and tired, but also energized in love. On our orientation retreat a month ago, someone came and spoke to us about engaging in our neighborhoods and the world around us this year. He said something along the lines of "The reason I am sad I leave a place is because I know I have gotten there". I have thought a lot about that this morning as I exist between the many homes I have made. It is a balancing act that illustrates how full and blessed my life has been. I feel sad today because I have lived and loved in so many places. I have been lucky enough to fully engage and arrive in so many places.
Rather than focus on the difficulty of this kind of existence and balance, my goal today is to live in constant gratitude for it. I might not always find the perfect balance, but my heart is full of love for each of my homes and the people that make them up.
"If anybody asks you where your coming from
Say love, say for me love"- The Avett Brothers
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
The Beginning
Before I started this JVC journey, I told everyone, "yes of course I will blog". I thought it would be easy to recount the events of my days and the feelings that have come to accompany them and then share them with anyone who asked. As I was walking to work this morning and thinking about starting this, I realized how difficult this task has proven to be.
There are a few things that will happen if I go through with this idea. 1. I will have to stop being lazy and actually write and express the mess inside my head. 2. I will have to keep people entertained by my banter (which many can attest to is usually long-winded and disorganized. Lastly, I will have to name and then express the myriad of emotions that permeate my days as a JV in Milwaukee. Of course I feel joy and excitement in exploring a new city and seven beautiful roommates. But, I also feel terribly sad, lonely, overwhelmed, and sometimes even scared. I could make this blog a regular account of what I do and who I see. But, that wouldn't do this experience justice. I have learned more in my first week as a JV than I could fit in four blog posts. I have felt more in my first week as a JV than I can fit in a million blog posts. So as I sit down at the beginning of this adventure, I will do my best to sift through all the muck and produce something worth reading. An adequate answer to the constant question, "Hey Abbey, how's Milwaukee?"
Right now, my mind focuses itself on work (maybe because I'm sitting at my desk), but that seems like as good a place as any to begin. I serve as an RN in a free clinic in the basement of a church about two miles from our house. My patients are all uninsured, and we serve as their medical home. This means, we dispense medications, provide monthly check-ups, and referrals to specialists. Those are the details, but they really don't do the place justice. I am surrounded by providers and volunteers who value the dignity of life, and let their faith guide everything they do. My patients are full of stories and experiences that keep me laughing, but also constantly aware of the fragility of life, family, and health. I am so happy to have this job and be a member of this complex community.
I am constantly challenged in my ideas of health and what it means to care for another person. I had an experience with a patient yesterday that I was unsure of how to take care of and I asked my supervisor what our policy was surrounding the situation. He told me, "Abbey, here is our policy, but really in this place you are going to learn to heal with your heart rather than with your head." This is my constant challenge this year. This is how I will spend most of my days. It is a simple concept that in all reality will take me beyond this year to understand in the context of my chosen career path.
So friends and family, for all those who have asked. "how are you?" or "what are you up to". Here's the best answer I can come up with: I'm here in Milwaukee, learning to heal with my heart.
Thanks for your thoughts and prayers on this journey. I hold you all with me everyday.
There are a few things that will happen if I go through with this idea. 1. I will have to stop being lazy and actually write and express the mess inside my head. 2. I will have to keep people entertained by my banter (which many can attest to is usually long-winded and disorganized. Lastly, I will have to name and then express the myriad of emotions that permeate my days as a JV in Milwaukee. Of course I feel joy and excitement in exploring a new city and seven beautiful roommates. But, I also feel terribly sad, lonely, overwhelmed, and sometimes even scared. I could make this blog a regular account of what I do and who I see. But, that wouldn't do this experience justice. I have learned more in my first week as a JV than I could fit in four blog posts. I have felt more in my first week as a JV than I can fit in a million blog posts. So as I sit down at the beginning of this adventure, I will do my best to sift through all the muck and produce something worth reading. An adequate answer to the constant question, "Hey Abbey, how's Milwaukee?"
Right now, my mind focuses itself on work (maybe because I'm sitting at my desk), but that seems like as good a place as any to begin. I serve as an RN in a free clinic in the basement of a church about two miles from our house. My patients are all uninsured, and we serve as their medical home. This means, we dispense medications, provide monthly check-ups, and referrals to specialists. Those are the details, but they really don't do the place justice. I am surrounded by providers and volunteers who value the dignity of life, and let their faith guide everything they do. My patients are full of stories and experiences that keep me laughing, but also constantly aware of the fragility of life, family, and health. I am so happy to have this job and be a member of this complex community.
I am constantly challenged in my ideas of health and what it means to care for another person. I had an experience with a patient yesterday that I was unsure of how to take care of and I asked my supervisor what our policy was surrounding the situation. He told me, "Abbey, here is our policy, but really in this place you are going to learn to heal with your heart rather than with your head." This is my constant challenge this year. This is how I will spend most of my days. It is a simple concept that in all reality will take me beyond this year to understand in the context of my chosen career path.
So friends and family, for all those who have asked. "how are you?" or "what are you up to". Here's the best answer I can come up with: I'm here in Milwaukee, learning to heal with my heart.
Thanks for your thoughts and prayers on this journey. I hold you all with me everyday.
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