trust me...you have a story to tell

The importance of storytelling in medicine cannot be overstated. Every clinical encounter begins with the history, or story, of the patient's illness. If you are a healthcare provider or a therapist in any field, or if you're the patient, or if you're the caretaker for someone who is hurting, you are a haven for the untold narratives no one invites us to tell. Trust me, you have a story to tell. 

This is your invitation. Please, tell us your story.

Here are ten sure signs you’re resisting the urge share what you worry about, or wonder about, or fear when, instead, you could begin healing:

•       People keep telling you, “You really should write a book…” because of all you have endured and overcome, or because of your special expertise, exceptional courage, or unique perspective. But you haven’t started yet.
• ·    You tell yourself, “I’m not a writer,” even though there’s a story chiseling a hole in your heart. Maybe it caused such sorrow, or anger, or regret you can’t bear to revisit it. Or perhaps it brought such a welcome sense of relief, or gratitude, or inspiration you can’t imagine how you would put it into words. Still, you should try.
•       You insist, “I wouldn’t know where to begin,” even though you’ve been over the details in your mind a thousand times. Or more.
• ·     You actually believe that your story is so ordinary, so inconsequential, it isn’t worth the effort it would take to tell it. You convince yourself you have nothing meaningful to say, nothing new to add, nothing helpful to share. But you do. 
• ·     You like to write, but you tell yourself you’re not good at it. Spelling, grammar, and punctuation trip you up. Nothing you get on the page seems to come out right. You forget that's what revision is for. That's why we have friends, mentors, and editors.
• ·     You think you’re too busy. You’re not.
• ·     You’re afraid you’ll offend someone if you tell the truth…if you write about the surgeon who botched your surgery, or the uncle who abused you as a child, or the colleague you don’t trust. As Anne Lamott puts it:

"If people wanted you to write

warmly about them,

they should've behaved better."

~Anne Lamott~             

• ·    As a patient, you’re so sick you feel like giving up. If you’re a provider or a caretaker, you sometimes feel like quitting. Tell us why.
• ·    You harbor questions you can’t answer, doubts that won’t go away, pain that nothing can heal. All festering out of sight, even though relief is just a blank page away.
• ·    You tend to ignore opening lines that come to you when you’re driving to work, or you dismiss memories that sneak up on you while you’re mowing the lawn, or you silence snatches of dialogue that come to you in the middle of the night. Meaning, your story is begging you to get started. To, please, get started.

If, up to this point, you haven’t written about your personal experience with illness or injury, you should probably consider starting small. Not with your open-heart surgery or your son's traumatic brain injury, but the time you twisted your ankle in the backyard or sliced your finger with the kitchen knife. You remember it, right? How much it hurt. How you had to call off sick that day and trek over to the Emergency Room for an Xray or stitches.

You were probably worried about missing work. You dreaded seeing your bill. You berated yourself for having been so careless, or lazy, or stupid (not that lack of intelligence had anything to do with it). You apologized profusely for inconveniencing your family and coworkers. Perhaps you missed your child’s soccer game or dance recital that day. You felt so helpless. You swore you’d never let it happen again.

The severity of the injury wasn’t the issue. The trouble started when you surrendered to anxiety, frustration, and anger. You blamed yourself and went on to punish yourself for it. You sent discouraging and judgmental messages to your body when it was doing its best to heal…

…which, if you had been paying attention, would have amazed you. While you were ranting about how stupid and careless you were, your blood stream rushed coagulation factors to the site of your cut and stopped the bleeding. Fibroblasts made their way to the ligaments in your ankle and went to work repairing them. Naturally occurring chemicals flooded your system to reduce the pain.

Instead of chastising yourself, you could have been cheering yourself on. You might have rested instead of pushing yourself to carry on as usual despite the pain. You could have redirected the energy you squandered on self-reproach, bitterness, and embarrassment to self-care and self-acceptance. You could have acted as an advocate for your own healing, if only you had known you had the ability and the power to do it.

"Your body's ability to heal

is greater than anyone has permitted

you to believe."

~Attribution unknown~

If, as many of us now believe, you can participate in your own healing, or hamper it, imagine the role attitude, intention, optimism, and hope play in healing after a heart attack, a disabling injury, even a bout of severe depression. Imagine loving and tending to the needs of your broken body. Your ailing spirits. Your elusive dreams.

Now, imagine helping someone else heal.

"Healing yourself is connected 

with healing others."

~Yoko Ono~

jan