This Monday, it was late and real dark outside. My wife, as she does, nudged me into walking around the neighborhood before bed. I was so tired I didn’t even laugh as a firefly, blinker and all, banged into my forehead.
Seconds after my dust up with the firefly, my wife asked, “Everything good?”
My reply was fatigue-unfiltered, “Ya know, none of this is working. I work all the time, push shit out everywhere on social media, and engagement is stable, if not declining. It’s not working.”
She didn’t say a word, letting me steep in the self-pity. You know sometimes, how you have a story in your head that sounds accurate but once you talk about it, you don’t like yourself very much? This was that. So, I continued on, attempting a rehab of my self-image, “It’s been almost a year and all I really care about is getting better as a writer. And I do enjoy the furniture.”
“Then, why are you obsessing about social media? You don’t seem to enjoy it.” She asked while enjoying her walk, unfazed. I thought about the question. Hmm, I kept walking. Then it hit me: I was attaching my post-medicine success or failure to social media outcomes, one of the few trackable barometers I have. Over the past year, I’ve dedicated more and more energy to social media, which pulled me further and further from where I’d like to improve (writing and furniture). I can control making better dressers. I cannot control subscriber counts.
There, in the fatigue-drenched night, things simplified. I was doing too much. The main thing was not the main thing. I was chasing ghosts of medicine past. Over the three days since, I’ve dedicated my time better. Installed more systems Stayed the hell off social media… as much. And it’s helped. I feel more rooted, tracking toward goals that are mine.
Truth reveals itself in fatigue. Even shows you the cause of your tired. If you can just pause the fight and be with it (as my wife helped me this week), a truth might strike you like a firefly, blinking for attention.
To living a life we love,
Ryan Fightmaster, MD
(P.S. One year ago, I started my dream job in medicine. And here I am now, writing newsletters! In this week’s article, I share how the chillest job of all-time, finally spelled my exit from medicine and sparked my deliverance.)
