between courage and talking about it


when i left my first employer/hospital, my colleague who sat right opposite slipped a letter to me secretly. i read her letter which was folded into an envelope origami-style while i was in the cab home, and i bawled my eyes out. as if i didn’t already cry enough. it was the first time someone whom i had only known for awhile (it was only 3 months only) had told me something so painfully honest yet so heartwarming.

she thanked me for sharing with her about my life and struggles with depression and RA and being so open about it. even my scars. she said that if she was in my position, she would have never said anything. she looked to me as her younger sister, and then gave me a string of advice, i was beyond touched. i didn’t realise i had made even the tiniest impact on her in my 3 months working with her, that she would look to me as a sister.

i tend to be a walking contradiction of wanting to spill everything about my life, and wanting to hide in my shell like a hermit crab. but i choose who i share my life with, and who i keep it from. it is the end point that makes the difference for me.

in the end, and in the Brene Brown quote in the lovely picture above, i make a conscious choice to be honest. don’t get me wrong- i don’t spill everything out to have a pity party, or to gain sympathy. sometimes i bare my soul to my doctors and therapists; it pains me so much and makes me vulnerable as though they could see right through me. sometimes i talk about it to ventilate; i need somewhere to do so right? sometimes i chat about it so that people don’t repeat the mistakes i did. sometimes, and usually, i mention it to motivate people and my patients.

i realise that my story is painful yes. but talking about it can help others to help me. and talking about it can help me help others too.

nina (yes i haven’t mentioned her on this blog for a long time now) tells me this is not courage. but for now, let’s just stick to the quote yeah?



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