When I was in medical school, I started daydreaming about opening a combination coffee shop/art studio. Perhaps that should’ve been a sign to me that I wasn’t on the right path, but I’m pretty damn stubborn.
I could see the space in my mind’s eye. The art studio was partitioned from the coffee shop with a glass wall. Patrons in the shop could have a glimpse of the ongoing classes while the students on the other side would have a sound buffer from the busy happenings of the coffee shop.
I could see all kinds of people coming into the coffee shop to gather. A group of bird-watching enthusiasts got together weekly to share stories and photos. Two mothers caught up over coffee while their kids stayed occupied at the kids’ table. College students studied for their exams while professionals worked from their laptops.
There would be open mic nights and other events held on evenings and weekends. The studio space could be used for a variety of classes. It was a place for all people to feel welcome and safe. A place to exchange ideas and foster community.
This dream kept me going through my year in general surgery residency. It probably says something that what got me through that year was dreaming of this community coffee house rather than being excited about becoming a surgeon.
During my year in surgery, I actually started a website with plans to grow my community coffee house online first. I looked into drop-shipping coffee and reached out to one of my favorite coffee houses in Sioux Falls, SD ask about a partnership. They said yes!
The funny thing is that the coffee bag design is what stopped me. At that point, the trauma of my year in general surgery was taking over, my confidence took a dive, and I began to question my ability to do things.
The more my trauma response started to kick in, the deeper into survival mode I went. Like I mentioned in day one of my journaling experience, it took me down so low to the point of not wanting to be alive anymore. And although I’ve since quit residency and had a few glimmers of directions I could take in my life, my confidence is still shot to hell.
When you endure trauma and watch other people in your life endure the same trauma, it can feel like all of the light and hope has been sucked out of the space you live in. It fucks with your brain and robs you of your self-trust.
How can I trust myself when I led myself down that path for so long and let myself be abused? Ah, here we have another narrative. The narrative that says that I am solely responsible for the bad things that happen to me. That it must be my fault.
I am afraid to be angry at other people when they harm me, because I grew up feeling unsafe around anger. If you’re angry, things will be taken from you, perhaps even love. Anger makes people say unforgivable things that leave permanent scars, right?
That’s what I used to think. But I recognize now (at least on an intellectual level) that anger is totally appropriate and a valid expression of our experience. It’s how we express that anger that can be healthy or harmful.
So as messed up as this may be, I have a hard time being angry with the surgery program for treating me and my colleagues the way they did. It was easier for me to feel like I had done something wrong than to see how bad up their mistreatment was.
That’s also why I’ve had a hard time recognizing how much my PTSD has actually affected me. I blamed myself for my lack of motivation or my reluctance to get a new job, rather than recognizing these are residual effects of my PTSD.
I’m not advocating that we blame everyone else for our trauma or that we adopt the role of a victim. But what I am saying is that we also shouldn’t blame ourselves for the shit that happens in our lives.
Blame is not helpful. It keeps us stuck. We can try to look at our trauma with curiosity rather than judgment in order to understand how it is affecting us and to look at ways that may help us move through it.
I can be angry at what has happened to me, I can even be angry at people for what they have done to me, but to live in that space of blame keeps me from healing. It doesn’t turn back the clock and prevent me from experiencing the trauma I went through.
As frustrating as it is to not be able to be back into my state of optimism about the future, I recognize now that I have to focus on healing first. My dream community coffee house will still be waiting for me. And whatever dreams come to life in the future will be all the more beautiful for my resilience and the deeper connection to myself that I’ve built.
