Another forum has had me thinking about friendly comparison. Maybe it is human nature to see others and their accomplishments, or lifestyle, or life choices, and wonder about our own. I'm not sure. Maybe I lack that "gene" or maybe, I've just grown out of it. To me, it is a dangerous and self-destructive cycle to compare oneself against another. The old adage about someone, somewhere has it worse than you, can likewise be stated, someone, somewhere has it better than you.
One of my friends has this uncanny ability to always say the right thing, always stay in a job she hates with people who are lazy and as un-hardworking as her. Her lip never seems bent or bitten, she just seems to be able to navigate the treacherous lanes of the business world, and succeed. Her empathy toward others never falters, if you are her friend, it seems you're her friend for life. She even overlooks the crappy things that other friends do to her, and still speaks to them. On top of that, she's good with money, ALWAYS has the best clothes, the perfect nails, the cutest hair cuts, and the whitest teeth. She amazes me!
I'm nothing like her. If I tried to compare myself to her, I'd be a complete failure. My clothes are not cute (hard to be "cute" at 6'1"), my nails - yeah, they're short and not manicured, and everyone knows, the business world befuddled me.
One of my other friends... and I'm pausing here to reflect... he is. In the 15 or so years that I've been able to consider him a friend, I've never been more impressed or amazed. He likewise, always seems to know the right things to say (or not to say at all!!), is kind, compassionate, caring, friendly, helpful, nice, fun, good with money; just an all around great guy. The first time I met him he was putting shoe-goo into the soles of his running shoes. I started to laugh at him. He smiled told me the shoes were perfectly good, just that the soles were wearing out. What made that more ironic is that he and his family are extremely wealthy. You would never know it though for the wealth is never flaunted, never pushed, never, ever, ever discussed. Humility runs deep in that family. As you can imagine, he's always been sort of on a pedestal for me. A great man from a great family with a great backbone and solid heart.
I'm nothing like him either. If compared myself to him, I'd be a complete failure. I'm dirt poor, not that frugal (hell no, I'd BUY new shoes if it meant selling CDs at the local pawn shop), never seem to know the exact right thing to say, and certainly not always funny. (Yes, bambi needed to be put in my car!)
Another one of my friends is a horse rancher and researcher. She has a couple of little guys and she's an awesome mom! She also speaks what is on her mind sometimes tactfully and sometimes not, she does what she thinks she is the right thing to do no matter what, is frugal with her money, divorced her p.o.s. husband before he could hurt their kids, AND got solid A's as an undergrad at the normal u-grad age. She works like a dog - horses, dogs, kids, job... and somehow makes it all gel.
I'm nothing like her either. If I compared myself to her, I'd be lazy, still dirt poor, didn't get A's in anything but tennis and golf in undergrad, and my son's issues along with my ex are already well noted.
Last, there is my friend who many years ago set up a play date with her son and mine. She and her family had moved here from L.A. to make sure their son had a good midwestern upbringing. My son came home one day from the local mall's child activity center (romper room with capital FUN) and said he'd given out our very private, very unpublished phone number to this woman and her husband. I was horrified. Then... she called. I was polite wondering what kind of drug runners they had to be to escape from L.A. notorious drug investigation squads. Then she asked to meet me. Politely, as is the nature of our region, I agreed. Harmless, right? I mean the drugs aren't going to be sold to me in the mall! Therein, ensued a more than humbling experience for me.
Her husband was at the top of the legal ladder at "the" largest movie making studio in L.A. He had graduated #1 in his class at UCLA Law, editor of the law review; she was a physical therapist. He had a movie produced starring Bruce Willis and yes, his name is on the backside of the DVD cover. They are an incredible couple and amazing parents. Their love for one another, their love and unending patience for their child who is beyond blessed to have "them" for parents is what Hollywood movies are meant for. All three of them are brilliant.
I'm nothing like any of them either. I'm not brilliant, will not graduate #1 in anything - ever, will never have a movie produced or made about me, and do not have their patience. While I adore my son and will forever despite his grievances with me, I'm not an amazing parent. I'm just a mom who tries, and tried, hard.
With all of that, I'd be a failure if I compared myself to just four of my friends. In their own right, each one of them is successful in their own way.
And so am I, in mine.
So to those of you who read this (and I know you do), please stop with the comparisons to your straight A friends who go to Ivy league schools and got the "big initial degrees" from those Ivy league schools.
YOU are special and awesome in your own way. Find it. And find a way to congratulate yourself on being ... just you.
Make it a great day!
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Saturday, November 21, 2009
How Much Compassion Required (edited)
Compassion or naivety? Compassion or enabling?
A situation has arisen over the past few days that gives me a bit of pause to question my own compassion toward others and whether or not my next reaction is compassionate, or enabling, or something entirely different.
Someone, whom I do not know first hand, has been sending me text message that threaten my life. The first one came with my first name and was innocuous. The 2nd one came and said I needed to be very careful when coming home that night. The 3rd one, shortly thereafter, said "Jason would be waiting for me." I took that to be a strong reference to the slasher type movies that were common in the 80s and 90s. Given that I live alone, my house and property is secluded, it made me nervous and a little scared. Given that I likewise have a former professor who stalks me as well as his wife, I needed to be careful.
At that point, I took the text messages to the campus police department (jurisdiction is questionable as I received them while in class but don't live on campus). The police report was written up, I was given the report number told that the individual would be told to stop, and an investigation begun.
Apparently, the investigating officer is sick and was unable to start reviewing the report.
I got another one last night and lest there be any doubt as to the "Jason" reference, it was cleared up yesterday afternoon.
"Jason from Friday the 13th will be awaiting for you at home tonight when you get there."
I didn't need to ask if I was over reacting and immediately went to the police department. The individual who answered the phone at the number in my text message hung up on the officer. The officer called back. The individual hung up again.
It seems to me the individual finally understands what harassment is and that threatening someone is not taken lightly. Nor should it. The individual was told to quit texting me, quit harassing me and that it was felony terroristic threats.
I got one more yesterday after I left the police department.
"I'm sorry. The texts were just a joke."
It seems to me this individual has a warped sense of entitlement and does not truly understand what harassment and threatening texts are. In a word, abuse.
Every abuser I've known, including the filth that lived here with my son and I, was "sorry" and yet that did not change their behavior. Every rapist I know and have talked to felt "sorry" they had committed the crime and in the back of my mind, I've always wondered if they really did, or if they were just sorry they were caught.
I've often ended up at just sorry they were caught.
So, my compassion toward an individual is caught in the cross fire right now - I have no doubt he's sorry he got caught. What I don't know is if he would/will do it again to someone else and if I try to get the police department to stop the investigation, am I enabling him to continue the crap behavior.
As a physician I'm sure this question gets pondered with one drug specifically, and I'm sure many others as well: oxycontin. So how does a physician finally adapt their compassionate ways to stopping an addict or at least, draw the line between compassion and enabling.
In my case, I am not interfering with the investigation. The individual needs to have consequences for his behavior. I did not find his "jokes" funny or interesting or wanted.
My compassion in this regard has found it's limit and I won't enable his crap behavior further.
(edited portion)
For some who may wonder about my safety inside my home, I am. The canines who share my abode with me, are protective, large, and loving. A few weeks ago, my own father who has known the younger great dane since he arrived in my home, failed to announce himself as he walked through the front door of my house. Storm, for all his loving goofiness, became instantly protective of his pack leader, fast asleep on the sofa, and bit my dad... and then quickly realized "oops!"
I believe Storm would have not stopped had it been anyone else he did not recognize. Had it been a true intruder, someone far more unwelcome in my home, the assault would not have stopped.
And Storm, is what I call very affectionately, my "little great dane" - not trained to protect, not trained to be fierce, just instinctively, he is.
I'm safe.
A situation has arisen over the past few days that gives me a bit of pause to question my own compassion toward others and whether or not my next reaction is compassionate, or enabling, or something entirely different.
Someone, whom I do not know first hand, has been sending me text message that threaten my life. The first one came with my first name and was innocuous. The 2nd one came and said I needed to be very careful when coming home that night. The 3rd one, shortly thereafter, said "Jason would be waiting for me." I took that to be a strong reference to the slasher type movies that were common in the 80s and 90s. Given that I live alone, my house and property is secluded, it made me nervous and a little scared. Given that I likewise have a former professor who stalks me as well as his wife, I needed to be careful.
At that point, I took the text messages to the campus police department (jurisdiction is questionable as I received them while in class but don't live on campus). The police report was written up, I was given the report number told that the individual would be told to stop, and an investigation begun.
Apparently, the investigating officer is sick and was unable to start reviewing the report.
I got another one last night and lest there be any doubt as to the "Jason" reference, it was cleared up yesterday afternoon.
"Jason from Friday the 13th will be awaiting for you at home tonight when you get there."
I didn't need to ask if I was over reacting and immediately went to the police department. The individual who answered the phone at the number in my text message hung up on the officer. The officer called back. The individual hung up again.
It seems to me the individual finally understands what harassment is and that threatening someone is not taken lightly. Nor should it. The individual was told to quit texting me, quit harassing me and that it was felony terroristic threats.
I got one more yesterday after I left the police department.
"I'm sorry. The texts were just a joke."
It seems to me this individual has a warped sense of entitlement and does not truly understand what harassment and threatening texts are. In a word, abuse.
Every abuser I've known, including the filth that lived here with my son and I, was "sorry" and yet that did not change their behavior. Every rapist I know and have talked to felt "sorry" they had committed the crime and in the back of my mind, I've always wondered if they really did, or if they were just sorry they were caught.
I've often ended up at just sorry they were caught.
So, my compassion toward an individual is caught in the cross fire right now - I have no doubt he's sorry he got caught. What I don't know is if he would/will do it again to someone else and if I try to get the police department to stop the investigation, am I enabling him to continue the crap behavior.
As a physician I'm sure this question gets pondered with one drug specifically, and I'm sure many others as well: oxycontin. So how does a physician finally adapt their compassionate ways to stopping an addict or at least, draw the line between compassion and enabling.
In my case, I am not interfering with the investigation. The individual needs to have consequences for his behavior. I did not find his "jokes" funny or interesting or wanted.
My compassion in this regard has found it's limit and I won't enable his crap behavior further.
(edited portion)
For some who may wonder about my safety inside my home, I am. The canines who share my abode with me, are protective, large, and loving. A few weeks ago, my own father who has known the younger great dane since he arrived in my home, failed to announce himself as he walked through the front door of my house. Storm, for all his loving goofiness, became instantly protective of his pack leader, fast asleep on the sofa, and bit my dad... and then quickly realized "oops!"
I believe Storm would have not stopped had it been anyone else he did not recognize. Had it been a true intruder, someone far more unwelcome in my home, the assault would not have stopped.
And Storm, is what I call very affectionately, my "little great dane" - not trained to protect, not trained to be fierce, just instinctively, he is.
I'm safe.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Quick Funny On Age
Received this in my email today:
"How Old Are You, xxx?" as the subject line. I choked and laughed. Timely, I might add given another forum's propensity to bring out the worst in ageism and pre-meds.
The entire email is here:
Good Monday morning (xxx), Two months ago we told you all about interview questions you should avoid answering in "Don't Answer That Interview Question." That piece sparked a flood of comments from you, Readers, and based on the volume of your emails, the (illegal) question that gets asked most is the age question.
Despite all of our attempts to be a "PC" society, the sad truth is that ageism still exists in force. Enlightened employers know that older workers bring wisdom, maturity, and experience to the table, but too often, it seems, that doesn't translate into a level playing field in the interview.
And in some ways, this is the most difficult issue we here at TheLadders face in advising you.
We're all getting older – hey, even Jim Morrison would be 65 now – and the younger folks coming into the workforce and doing the resume screening seem to place a higher value on youth than years of contribution.
So we had writer Patty Orsini look at how to handle – and how to dodge – the age question in our most recent Advice package.
"How Old Are You, xxx?" as the subject line. I choked and laughed. Timely, I might add given another forum's propensity to bring out the worst in ageism and pre-meds.
The entire email is here:
Good Monday morning (xxx), Two months ago we told you all about interview questions you should avoid answering in "Don't Answer That Interview Question." That piece sparked a flood of comments from you, Readers, and based on the volume of your emails, the (illegal) question that gets asked most is the age question.
Despite all of our attempts to be a "PC" society, the sad truth is that ageism still exists in force. Enlightened employers know that older workers bring wisdom, maturity, and experience to the table, but too often, it seems, that doesn't translate into a level playing field in the interview.
And in some ways, this is the most difficult issue we here at TheLadders face in advising you.
We're all getting older – hey, even Jim Morrison would be 65 now – and the younger folks coming into the workforce and doing the resume screening seem to place a higher value on youth than years of contribution.
So we had writer Patty Orsini look at how to handle – and how to dodge – the age question in our most recent Advice package.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
My Age (Le Gasp)
I'm unfazed by trying to do the unthinkable at my age. When I was younger I was unfazed as well. However, back then, some 20+ years ago, I was also unfazed about drinking and driving, smoking cigarettes during a screening of the latest "Halloween" movie, or other issues such as chronic poverty, homelessness, civil rights of individuals, lack of medical care, or really, anything else. I was simply, clueless.
Some on other forums have trashed my dream and the pursuit of medicine at, le' gasp, "my age"... apparently, I should be holed up in my home with bunny slippers on, sipping cocktails, and waiting for death since apparently, trying to give back to society for another 20 - 30 years is unthinkable. Apparently, at 45 one's life is over and we should all just sit back and wait for the ugly dude in the black dress/cape like thing carrying a sickle.
For all of those of you who prescribe to that notion, please leave. Seriously. Get a grip. Grow up. And leave.
Yep, my younger peers are sometimes sharper and quicker in their detailed observations... but not generally. What I *may* lack in astonishing speed of understanding, I far more than make up for it when putting together the details I need and the strategy. Something about that overall comprehension I had to use as an executive that the younger folks lack.
This is likewise NOT a bash on my younger peers. I love being in school with them - they have accepted me openly as one of them, never guessing how old I am (le gasp) or that my son is their age (more le gasp) nor caring whether or not I get something immediately. Most of the time, they are asking ME for help in understanding those detailed issues and questions, and the subsequent strategy; not the reverse.
For those of you who wonder why some medical school would admit someone who is surely awaiting for death to show and take my soul leaving behind apparently a withered body, they would admit me for many reasons.
Some students who get into med school right at 22, leave the profession some 20 years later due to burnout. So, at 49 they are burnt out and leaving for administrative jobs vs. staying in the profession as physicians. Hmmm.... I plan on practicing until I'm in my 70s.... same duration, 20 years. Why wouldn't a med school admit me? Monetarily, I've already made more than most doctors, and the professors who teach them. With that old notion about how much investment a medical school makes in each med student, the water leaks out. I can already give back to the med school if that is the argument. I already have.
Some students, in fact most, have no interest in serving the rural communities, especially women who are catered to for their lack of apparent numbers in admissions. Take that women are less often going into medicine than men, a woman who actually wants to be in a rural setting, the age (le gasp) becomes even less meaningful. Twenty years of a rural physician is better than none. Further, those women who have door wide open for them are more often than not choosing the highly paid specialties rather than the lowly paid rural, or even metro, family physicians.
Some students who get into med school, for lack of a better word, lack compassion. They're darn smart, they ace tests, they can wiz-bang around a molecule like there is no tomorrow, but they can't empathize or relate to a patient. Their egos enter a door before their bodies. I had a doc like that once and dated another. Older students, replete with our bunny slippers, lost our egos to the bad rush of the business world and sociopaths that dwell there. Egos bashed and bruised are seldom recovered. We simply adapt and use that honed psyche to help others.
Some of us, despite our age (le gasp) even follow our passion and our dream. Hoping that unlike some shrill naysayers, that the door is opened and we are allowed a seat in a class.
So, I guess I will put away my bunny slippers and if the dark shadow darkens my door step carrying a scythe, I'll slap him upside the head and tell him to get a life and a clue - I'm not dead yet, nor am I close, despite my age (le gasp!).
Some on other forums have trashed my dream and the pursuit of medicine at, le' gasp, "my age"... apparently, I should be holed up in my home with bunny slippers on, sipping cocktails, and waiting for death since apparently, trying to give back to society for another 20 - 30 years is unthinkable. Apparently, at 45 one's life is over and we should all just sit back and wait for the ugly dude in the black dress/cape like thing carrying a sickle.
For all of those of you who prescribe to that notion, please leave. Seriously. Get a grip. Grow up. And leave.
Yep, my younger peers are sometimes sharper and quicker in their detailed observations... but not generally. What I *may* lack in astonishing speed of understanding, I far more than make up for it when putting together the details I need and the strategy. Something about that overall comprehension I had to use as an executive that the younger folks lack.
This is likewise NOT a bash on my younger peers. I love being in school with them - they have accepted me openly as one of them, never guessing how old I am (le gasp) or that my son is their age (more le gasp) nor caring whether or not I get something immediately. Most of the time, they are asking ME for help in understanding those detailed issues and questions, and the subsequent strategy; not the reverse.
For those of you who wonder why some medical school would admit someone who is surely awaiting for death to show and take my soul leaving behind apparently a withered body, they would admit me for many reasons.
Some students who get into med school right at 22, leave the profession some 20 years later due to burnout. So, at 49 they are burnt out and leaving for administrative jobs vs. staying in the profession as physicians. Hmmm.... I plan on practicing until I'm in my 70s.... same duration, 20 years. Why wouldn't a med school admit me? Monetarily, I've already made more than most doctors, and the professors who teach them. With that old notion about how much investment a medical school makes in each med student, the water leaks out. I can already give back to the med school if that is the argument. I already have.
Some students, in fact most, have no interest in serving the rural communities, especially women who are catered to for their lack of apparent numbers in admissions. Take that women are less often going into medicine than men, a woman who actually wants to be in a rural setting, the age (le gasp) becomes even less meaningful. Twenty years of a rural physician is better than none. Further, those women who have door wide open for them are more often than not choosing the highly paid specialties rather than the lowly paid rural, or even metro, family physicians.
Some students who get into med school, for lack of a better word, lack compassion. They're darn smart, they ace tests, they can wiz-bang around a molecule like there is no tomorrow, but they can't empathize or relate to a patient. Their egos enter a door before their bodies. I had a doc like that once and dated another. Older students, replete with our bunny slippers, lost our egos to the bad rush of the business world and sociopaths that dwell there. Egos bashed and bruised are seldom recovered. We simply adapt and use that honed psyche to help others.
Some of us, despite our age (le gasp) even follow our passion and our dream. Hoping that unlike some shrill naysayers, that the door is opened and we are allowed a seat in a class.
So, I guess I will put away my bunny slippers and if the dark shadow darkens my door step carrying a scythe, I'll slap him upside the head and tell him to get a life and a clue - I'm not dead yet, nor am I close, despite my age (le gasp!).
Monday, November 16, 2009
Hoping The Door Opens At Some Point
Some days my head meets the nail. Some days the pans aren't dented quite enough. Some days it would seem the faith that brought me to the door is testing my utter mettle as I try to make things gel.
I'm still ever thankful for the supportive professors, friends and adviser that I have at school. I'm still ever thankful for my parents who ... love me no matter what path I traipse along, and support me no matter the personal cost to them. Honestly, their faith in me sometimes brings up the utter guilt that dwells within. This dream of mine is their journey as well. Thankfully, they believe in this path of mine too. They too remember me wanting to be a doc when I was little, and doing chemistry experiments in our dungeon of a basement.
I'm blessed, I know that.
I told someone with complete confidence a few weeks ago, "What God brings you to, He'll bring you through" ...
I look upward and ask, "Now?"
Okay, a few days or weeks pass and I think, "Okay, how about now?!"
Still the utter quiet resonates in my home.
"Maybe, now?"
Nope. Still no answers.
I keep hoping the current issues will go away, resolve themselves, and allow me to just be a student. In the meantime, I try to focus on things that make me smile, make me laugh, or just allow me the peace and quiet of a nice night at home.
Some days the music can't get quite loud enough nor the pans dented quite liberally.
Today, would be one of them.
I'm still ever thankful for the supportive professors, friends and adviser that I have at school. I'm still ever thankful for my parents who ... love me no matter what path I traipse along, and support me no matter the personal cost to them. Honestly, their faith in me sometimes brings up the utter guilt that dwells within. This dream of mine is their journey as well. Thankfully, they believe in this path of mine too. They too remember me wanting to be a doc when I was little, and doing chemistry experiments in our dungeon of a basement.
I'm blessed, I know that.
I told someone with complete confidence a few weeks ago, "What God brings you to, He'll bring you through" ...
I look upward and ask, "Now?"
Okay, a few days or weeks pass and I think, "Okay, how about now?!"
Still the utter quiet resonates in my home.
"Maybe, now?"
Nope. Still no answers.
I keep hoping the current issues will go away, resolve themselves, and allow me to just be a student. In the meantime, I try to focus on things that make me smile, make me laugh, or just allow me the peace and quiet of a nice night at home.
Some days the music can't get quite loud enough nor the pans dented quite liberally.
Today, would be one of them.
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