SOUL. What Refills Your Cup?

I have been here before. As I am sure just about every person has. That feeling of being totally numb. Drained. Zip. Zero. Zilch. There’s not much left. 

For me at least, it’s different from the physical exhaustion of a long run or bike ride. It’s an emotional tank that makes me want to just stare at a blank wall in silence. Or better yet, lay outside in the grass on a blanket by myself. 

I’m only in my first year of being a primary care physician, and let me tell you, I understand why medical burnout is a thing. I understood it in med school, too, but it feels much different in practice. I won’t pretend to be superhuman here and tell you I am immune to it. I have all of the mindfulness and stress-management tools possible (well, not quite - always more to learn!). I have a solid counseling background. Yet, here I am, not immune to this feeling. At the core, I know it is a good thing, in a way. Because it means I care deeply about what I do and about my patients. 

I so viscerally remember reading an assigned article in my first year philosophy class, titled “Whatever Happened to Healers?” by Larry Dossey, MD. In it, he pulls apart how the field of medicine tends to draw in those with pure intentions (to help, to heal), only to be consumed by a system destined to breakdown humans and medicine solely into its biochemical pathways and parts. Dossey writes, “If one wanted to snuff out the healing instinct and idealism that students often bring to medical school, one could hardly imagine a more efficient method.” 

This is where I feel lucky. I, for the most part, had a different experience in naturopathic medical school. I learned the standards of care and the pharmaceuticals, but was also required to take philosophy class my first two years that asked me to read thought-provoking articles like this one that I still think about regularly, 5 years later.  But, now in practice, I do feel the weight that I am sure anyone who cares deeply about anyone feels: how to be of service. And how to help. 

So, what’s my reset when feeling drained? How does one refill their cup? While it looks different for everyone, for me it looks like solo and silent time outside. This past weekend, it was a picnic lunch in a river bed just listening to the stream gurgling next to me. It was a day with my phone off. It was a sunset walk next to water. It was a journal entry. And yes, I will admit that it was also a few tears (release of emotion is better than blocking emotion, in my medical opinion). I think it’s important to normalize and talk about life’s lows, because then we can talk about the ways and tools we have learned to bounce back to continue moving forwards. To refill our cup in a way that feels meaningful and nourishing. 

What tools have you learned are yours?