Notes on life, philosophy, and medicine

Out of deep heartache can come immense treasures - love boundless - until it hurts. My parents met in high school. They fell in love. They argued as young people without a full sense of self and awareness of others do.  My father had an affair. There was turmoil. My mom fell for someone else.  My youngest two brothers were born.  Out of heartache, treasures. I will take a lifetime of blows to love and know love as truly as it can be known.  Spending time now with my mom.  My dad sends his regards and reassurances through little dragon flies.  I don’t know where I am going, what’s next, but I hope to look back and say I gave it my entire heart. 

I wonder why saying these things out loud feels so difficult. Ask me what I do for work, and I hesitate—why? Is it humility or a quiet fear of not being good enough? And as a woman? Gosh, even that label feels distant at times. I love my childish ways, my wonder—so what does it really mean to be a woman? Have I lacked the role models to fully claim it, or is it something else? Then, there is God. Maybe it's the deep knowing that I am not enough—but isn't that exactly where God works? And so, with great hope, I say that I believe. But do I still have doubts? Can my character, my actions, my fruits truly reflect that I am a daughter of Christ? Do I fear the world’s response to standing in my faith? The threads of my heart and mind are loosely connected, but they are there. Some days, I find the confidence to say these things. To believe, to trust, to pray that I can be as competent as I hope to be. This is me—outside the Blue Lagoon in Iceland, wearing my Adventure in Family M...

My blog has been about recognizing my personal search and exploration of life. I've been on this current journey for the last 5 weeks. It's the longest one I've ever taken that did not involve school. In it, I have tried to live and experience life as it is not for a foreign traveler but for the authentic local experience. Choosing apartment rentals over hotel stays, striking conversations often and when appropriate, eating out, walking, & using the metro system.  Surely, it's an imperfect art, this shape-shifting and experiencing another's life outside your own. Through it all, I had my own life to contend with, a child to try to impart moral and life wisdom to, a family who had their own intentions, or not, for the trip, and my own goals to "just be" and find the love and laughter in family. We discovered tears and heartache in the midst, perhaps from my perspective a naivete, but mostly from the underpinnings of most conflict, a misunderstanding of ...

Preserving the slight breeze and stickiness of the napoli air for just a moment; the sense of my only child just one level above playing video games with his cousin, my sister and nieces in different rooms in this updated dated italian old tri level home with a courtyard overlooking "old man" piazza  just for a moment longer  knowing this will slip right by  the dissipation of non-materialized worry early on  the victories in seeing and being in another part of the world  experiencing same same but different  and no matter where you go, there you are  we will be "back" soon  but back to where?  home?  routine?  will it be different?  will the daydream of this trip  the moments of sameness but different  somehow make its way into "back" or rather than back, can returning be into the future?  and how do I want that future to look, to feel?  no I suppose there's no going back  and then no fretting about re...