Witt's End

  My tongue almost never matches my mind. It’s the honest frustrating truth. But luckily sometimes the pen can. For a lot of people who know me. That may be a bit or surprise. I’m sorry extroverted. I can make small talk easily. But I often just feel misunderstood. I have this thing where I feel like I can’t quite capture and express my thoughts as well verbally as they are in my head. I know I’m not alone with my his struggle.  Slowing down my brain with paper helps me develop the clarity None of us like to be tripping over words or to be fumbling around to express ourselves. But if often happens. I know my mind and my mouth get in a ridiculous race with each other. Taking it to my fingers eliminates that competition.  It allows for more processing and contemplation. A more completeness in my ideas. That doesn’t say I entirely ignore racing ahead to jot a note for something I want to say later, but it allows me to process the task more completely. As a really visually focused learner

Sometimes bad news is a little bit validating. Sometimes you find out you’re really in pain. Or that there’s a reason you’re always tired and fatigued.  There are lots of things that don’t readily manifest physically. There are a lot of conditions that require people to take you at your word. But every once in awhile your body (through it’s chemistry) can give an indicator of what’s going on. A laboratory result, a reflex test, or imaging can demonstrate what is wrong. That’s validation. There’s something so singularly powerful about having something unknowable demonstrated so tangibly.  I’m feeling that so real right now. 

  I just find that I’m struggling so much more than I thought I would to feel connected in a church family. The ironic part of this situation is that the more I find hope, light, and truth the more I find myself disconnected in a congregational setting. Now part of this is strangely connected to trying to do what the prophet has asked of us in a practical sense. And the more I do that the more I face criticism and ostracism from members of my faith.  There are times I truly struggled with the doctrine of the church as a youth and even recently as an adult.  Through those struggles I always knew that the atonement of Christ was real. That Jesus was truly my savior. It was a really hard fought and hard won testimony. But it was the literal rock I had at that time. It’s interesting to note that at that time I struggled with  the practical application of the church’s standards and expectations I often privately wavered. But I felt the need to outwardly in sync with those around me. All in

 I've moved a few blog posts from here to Medium to share with what will hopefully be a new audience. Now it's time to do the opposite. This is a story I told more in my past. Haven't for a long time. It's a story of trauma, irony, recovery, fathers and sons. I think it's worth sharing here. Please check it out and share it.  Trauma and Irony This maybe the most personal thing I've written in a long time. I hope it touches people or helps them out in some way. 

I've been thinking a lot about love. There’s a reason the Greeks have so many words for it. How they specify it. There's a reason that those who studied the classics more than we do looked at the word love differently than we do, and viewed relationships and friendships differently than we do. The more reading and pondering I've done lately the more I've changed how I view the relationships in my life. I'm not going to take the time here to define each of the Greek loves or how they pertain to my life, but I want to talk about how my views have changed.  I used to think I fell in love with my best friend. But it’s so much more than that. She and I are more than that.  I’ve been thinking about the circles we have in our lives. The relationships that are part of them. Closest is my wife. Always will be. We chose, we committed, and she’s my everything. It’s a unique and special relationship that I never want to take for granted. But it's deeper than friendship. It&

Maybe it's compassion fatigue. Maybe it's something else. But all I wanted to do in the entry of that ICU was go home and sleep in my bed with my wife. Instead I was in my own head watching my best friend run supplies to the crash team working on a COVID patient.  I don't know what made me feel worse, the lack of empathy for the guy who was actively crashing and suffering, or the fact I felt like I needed help too.  That's what's killing us in healthcare right now. We're physically and mentally burnt out. We're beyond tired, we're exhausted. It's becoming more and more difficult to keep just doing our job. A lot of people a lot more eloquent than I have written on the subject. I'm sure others will continue to as well. But I felt I had to speak up. Just scream into cyberspace for a minute. Both out of frustration, but also what to do about it.  I just want to yell, "What about me?" or " Can I get a break here?" But there's