Burned out

This week is National Cover the Uninsured Week. At OHSU, the medical institute I work at, students have organized an array of events including panel discussions, seminars, and free clinic events.

Today, I went to a panel discussing providing healthcare for the uninsured. I think the panel members, mostly from the non-profit world, were supposed to talk about healthcare policy issues. However, that wasn’t really the mood. Most of what I was hearing was encouragement.

I think the panel members saw their past selves out in the crowd. I think they saw a bright-eyed batch of students unprepared for the struggle of caring for the neglected. They talked about supporting the neglected populations we were supposed to be talking about, but moreso they emphasized taking care of the optimistic students and young health professionals that are diving into these careers, and protecting them from burnout.

The talk was inspiring, or relieving, maybe. But one woman, the youngest, and easily the most enthusiastic of the bunch, had a comment that really struck me. She said:

“I think cynical people are just people that were idealistic, but had their hearts broken.”

When I think back to when I first read the inspirational biography Mountains Beyond Mountains a couple winters ago, all I can remember is how fired up I was. Reading the courageous story of a physician working with the rural poor in Haiti, I could feel the optimism and will to change the world rushing through my body.

I was obsessed. I ate up anything and everything about the struggles of the world. I read about the civil struggle in Zimbabwe, social entrepreneurism in Rwanda, epidemic drug-resistant tuberculosis in Haiti, all of it.

I thought if I just pushed myself a little more, if I just stayed up another half hour studying biochemistry, if I just ran another mile, if I read another article about social medicine… I could move myself closer to becoming a stronger human being, to my dream of reaching medical school, to being on a stage where people might hear my voice, to changing the world.

I don’t know what tipped the scales. I think it happened sometime earlier, maybe the summer before my senior year when I worked in a lab at Harvard med school, poured on the miles to get ready for one last cross country season, and spent the rest of my time hammering away at the MCAT. (the med school admissions test)

I piled through flash cards, page after page of practice questions, and I think at some point, I snapped. I couldn’t handle the work, the stress, and it clicked. I couldn’t stop war in Zimbabwe. I couldn’t cure drug-resistant TB. I couldn’t save the world. It broke my heart.

It’s caused me to grow a cynical side since moving to Portland. It’s made me afraid to push myself, and I find myself being lazy a lot. I pretty much notice at the first sign of stress and cut myself slack. I tell myself I’m still a productive member of society.. But I have this one thought running through my head every day: "I use to be strong."

There’s a quote I’m reminded of:

“The good news is that there is a way out of the dark forest. The bad news is that the way leads through hell.”

It sucked to burn out. It sucked to struggle through a year running on fumes to keep myself afloat. It sucks to feel past my prime at the ripe age of 22.

But on some days, when I can feel just a crack of that optimism leaking out of my heart, I can see that this initial burnout was necessary for me to ditch some of my unreasonable optimism, and cultivate a more realistic optimism.

Today, I read a quote from JFK’s inagural address that I hope to one day say, and mean.

“And this will not be finished in the first one hundred days. Nor will it be finished in the first one thousand days, nor in the life of this Administration, nor even perhaps in our lifetime on this planet. But let us begin.”

I suppose, just because I can’t save the world, doesn’t mean I can’t try, eventually.

Related post, "What is Social Justice?"

from ken

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