It’s Not What You Think

My husband is currently in his intern year of orthopedic residency. Therefore, that makes me the wife of a surgeon, which still doesn’t feel real most days. But that doesn’t mean any of the things that people seem to think it does.

We’re not rich – we’re actually in debt. Our lives aren’t glamorous – he spends most of his time at the hospital and I spend most of mine taking care of our three girls and running our household. We hardly see each other. Things aren’t easy – he is at the bottom of the totem pole doing things “because that’s just how they’re done” and getting treated like a piece of dirt, and I’m on medication for anxiety and depression ha. And you know what? Some days I can laugh about it, and other days I cry and eat cookies and chocolate.

I’m currently listening to, “It’s OK That You’re Not OK: Meeting Grief and Loss in a Culture That Doesn’t Understand,” by Megan Devine and nothing has hit home more than what she talks about in this book. I am constantly nodding my head and have had some of the same thoughts for years now that she shares. It has especially resonated with feelings I have towards my mission and the whole missionary experience. Surprise, right?

But what really hit me as I was listening to it today, yes it inspired me to write this blog post, was when she was talking about pain and discomfort being things we avoid. No one likes to be in pain right? And I think it’s safe to say that we don’t like seeing others in pain either. Megan writes, “What better way to silence pain than to blame those who feel it.” And I had my epiphany about why being the wife of a surgeon (and medical student, and even future medical student) has been DIFFICULT since the beginning.

I’m in pain y’all. And that’s hard for me to admit because our culture says that if we’re in pain then we’re weak and that we need to get out of that pain as quick as possible. We need to figure out how to move on and leave it behind. But that’s not something I can do when I’m living it. I’ve been living it for over four years, and I have at least five or six more and that’s only IF things actually do get better after residency/fellowship. And other people are living their pain too!

If you’re new around here then let me tell you something that you need to know about me: I am not the type of person who will sugar coat things, I will tell you the truth even if it’s ugly, and I will openly talk about the hard. I have found that when I do this, it allows others to do it as well. It allows everyone to open up and share their hard too. And this isn’t normal in our culture! WHY NOT? Megan answers this in her book, and the gist of it is: if something is uncomfortable then something is wrong, if we’re not moving on or getting over loss then we’re not moving forward or progressing, grief is the problem and not the solution. (Take a moment to just read through that again.)

The life that I’m living right now is painful. And we don’t need to go around comparing it to someone else’s life. That never does any good for anyone. It’s painful for me ok? And no one can take that way from me. It’s painful because I’m grieving the life that I thought I would be living. It didn’t look like this… Yes, I had an idea what would this medical journey would look like because others have been through it, however mine is completely unique and different than anyone else’s. I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again, “I chose this but I didn’t choose this.”

I didn’t know my husband would be gone all the time. I didn’t know how hard it would be to try and raise three kids almost on my own. I didn’t know how hard it would be to go into debt and live on a salary that barely makes ends meet. I didn’t know how hard it would be living away from my family and all the friends I grew up with. I didn’t know that I would sometimes wish my life was different. I didn’t know that I would wonder if this is all there is to this medical journey and when does it get better? I didn’t know that my stress would be at an all time high.

I didn’t know.

Megan writes, “How quick we are to demonize instead of empathize.” I’m the wife of a surgeon, so what do I have to complain about? You have no idea. But when I try and talk about it, I get told that it’ll all be worth it one day, that I need to look for the good, or that others have it worse. Ok. Do you not want me to talk about it because it’s uncomfortable for you? Because of course we should tip toe around someone else’s discomfort if our own is causing it, right?

Another thing you need to know about me is that I am a believer in seeing others where they are. I want to sit with them in their pain. I want to know why something is hard for them. And I’m not saying this to toot my own horn, but because I GENUINELY want to understand. We all see and experience things differently and that’s fascinating to me! And because I feel, and have witnessed, that at the heart of all our pain there is connection, there is relatability… which means there can be love.

Example: Megan Devine wrote her book because her husband drowned. I have no idea what that is like as I have not experienced that level of loss. But the words in her book are thoughts I’ve had before because of what I HAVE experienced. Her words hit so deeply because they ring true to me. I have shared I don’t know how many people’s stories, all of them are different, but all of them have pain. All of them have loss.

We’ve all heard it, “Things aren’t as they seem”, but do we believe it? It’s not what you think, and it rarely ever is. And what’s stopping you from finding out what it actually is?

Adrien Rich, “There must be those among whom we can sit down and weep and still be counted as warriors.”
You can sit and weep with me. I see the battles you fight while silently surviving. You ARE a warrior.

P.S. I feel the need to mention that it isn’t always painful. There are good days and bad days, with anything. It ebbs and flows. I think right now it’s more painful than not because we’re still in the adjustment period of a new move and there has been a lot that has come with that. I’m doing what I can when I can to fill my cup.
I have also proved how resilient, flexible, independent, and strong I can be. I’m developing traits I wouldn’t have otherwise and I try to focus on those.

2 Comments

  1. It’s hard to be in pain. It’s hard to feel invisible. I think that’s the hardest part. Dealing with hard is one thing. Lack of acknowledgment for the hard is mentally crippling. I haven’t had the best experiences “sharing” so I am definitely more repressed. Because we are all skating a line of what we feel and what other people think we should feel.
    I see you showing up for your family, not as a surgeon’s wife, but as a loving mom/wife who is sacrificing a lot of herself and being the glue for her family.

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  2. I totally agree. I’m sorry you’re dealing with all this. This year has SUCKED for our family too. So much medical stuff that just seems like it’s never ending. I was talking to Tressa furner and venting, but then of course said something to the effect of “people have it worse, I should be grateful or more positive.” she said the most amazing thing: “it doesn’t matter. Just because someone else has it hard doesn’t invalidate your hard or your feelings” it helped a lot. I hope you can find some happiness during your hard!

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