Okay, fine. It's not that bad.

I am reveling in the quiet that has enveloped my house tonight, and rejoicing in the tiny buzz that the mostly-full decanter of wine from dinner has given me.

Today we had meeting after meeting after meeting after meeting for work while the residents took their in-training exam.  "We" meaning my fellow residency "core faculty" and me.  We started the meeting with a "check in" (sorry for the overuse of quotes--I truly blame the wine), which was really nice.  It was so lovely to hear the faculty that trained me speak of their position in both their personal and professional lives.  I, of course, broke down after stating, "Well, I'm back.  And it's been hard to keep it together."  I couldn't really eek out more that that for a while, but was happy to witness the old adage of "this too will pass" through the lives of my colleagues.

A section of our meetings today focused on the mentor/mentee relationship.  I've always been attracted to the idea of having a mentor, and envied those that casually throw in the, "Well, my mentor so-and-so..."  The article we discussed was about how the onus should be on the mentee for the establishment and upkeep of the mentor/mentee relationship.  So I guess that's why I don't really have an established mentor, but rather a collection of faculty that I depend upon for professional advice and advancement prodding.  Though I lack the confidence to officially propose to a mentor, I was struck today at how so many in the room have mentored me over the past few years, and how grateful I am to their service and support.  Most of all, however, I am grateful for the gift of their friendship, and the freedom to share my tears over my current struggles knowing that when I am ready to regain the professional momentum that I had pre-second-baby, that support will still be there.

As an adolescent trying to find herself, I participated in countless retreats, turning inward again and again. Over the years, I have found great solace in my yoga practice as the same sort of introspection begins (and often ends) each asana practice.  But I am truly indebted to my professional life and the community that I have found through this residency program--including my integrative medicine fellows--for the obligatory retreats and self-evaluation that have fostered my growth not only as a physician but as a person and as a teacher.

I don't know why I'm so bad at asking for help.  When pondering the inherent nature of our daughters, I suggested that perhaps Nina would be like her Daddy--indefatigably happy.  Josh replied that he's not always happy, but rather doesn't "put my stress on other people."  That's really not my intent, and maybe this perception of my tendencies speaks more to the conversation I had with Julie a few weeks ago about the trend for women to overanalyze and underdiscuss until all sorts of shit hits the fan.  I think this scenario is where the verb "blurt" was born.

Anyway, I don't know what I'm trying to say, other than thanks for letting me vent, thanks to coming to my aide (when for instance my security door wouldn't open) and thanks to those who have let me know that I am not alone.  I appreciate all of your support because it helps me to move one foot in front of the other, and to see the light at the end of the tunnel.