Pull up a chair

I don’t think I was a very good doctor. I mean, I think I was technically good, but not very good at connecting with my patients or making them feel heard or cared for. I don’t bring this up in a judgemental way - even though I know that's how it sounds. I did the best I could at the time. The main issue was that I was an anxious ER doctor. I was scared I’d miss something. Afraid of getting behind. Nervous that I wasn’t seeing enough patients, or that a difficult one would show up and I would be unprepared. 

This anxious energy and fear left me moving quickly from room to room. Gathering vital information, putting in necessary orders, and robotically going through the motions to ensure my patients were accurately cared for. However, that same energy left them (and me) emotionally abandoned in the wake of practical doctoring. I rarely spent extra time in a patient’s room. And I almost never sat down.

I would like to think if I were to work in the emergency room again, I’d do it differently. I would consciously approach my patients more like I have learned to approach my life now. With patience. I’m far from perfect, but I’ve learned that the energy I bring to connection with others in my life, and even with myself directly impacts those relationships far more than the technical or mechanical aspects of those interactions. Just like the right diagnosis has to be made, the right words still need to be said. But the energy from those words is more important than the words themselves. 

In medicine they tell you to sit down in the patient’s room. I rarely did that. Too busy to sit, I ran anxiously from room to room. But in the last few years since I’ve left emergency medicine I’ve learned that if I metaphorically “pull up a chair” in life, everything slows down. If I’m in a difficult conversation, feeling anxious in meditation, working through challenging emotions - pulling up a chair gives me the space to allow the world to be as it is. To sit back, slightly away from the moment and perceive it rather than live inside of the challenging energy it is bringing. 

Pulling up a chair can be a metaphor for how we show up in life. It can be a way we present to ourselves and others. A way of energetically telling everyone that we are offering attention. That there is nothing else more important happening right now. That we are surrendering to this moment, as it is, as they are, as we are, and that nothing needs to be different. 

Pulling up a chair is like meta, loving-kindness meditation for the moment. Bringing warmth and heart to whatever situation we bring that chair into. Sitting down in the middle of the storm, wind billowing, rain pouring, and weathering it without a wince. As if from within the eye of the storm, seeing it from the inside, unperturbed. 

Pulling up a chair can be a mantra. A reminder, to bring your all to every moment. To live in presence and not be pulled by the constant reminders of an anxious mind or by the distractions of an inpatient culture. 

Pulling up a chair is a revolution of mindfulness and kindness to oneself and the life we are connecting with. A mutual respect for the importance of our time and the time of existence. Living in the now and fully embodying this moment. 

So the next time you find yourself rushing around anxiously getting things done with some nebulous end goal in mind. Ask yourself, am I showing up for myself or for others the way I want to? Am I present? And if not, maybe just pull up a chair in your mind and sit for a second in the present moment with nothing else but awareness.