Wellness

It had been a bad month. There were staffing issues, including an employee with a serious dog bite injury. Our basement flooded, creating a big mess. A flu-like virus struck the whole family one at a time and I spent many nights caring for sick children so I was sleep deprived. But the hardest of the month was losing our beloved thirteen-year-old schnauzer to cancer. Through all this, I maintained a positive attitude. I dealt with each situation as it came along, searching for the silver linings.

Then Monday came. I woke up with a sore throat and feeling achy. We were too busy for me to call in sick so I took some ibuprofen and headed in to work, hoping I would feel better as the day went on. My morning was filled with appointments, including three of my most difficult clients. By noon, my positive attitude was gone. All the stress of the past month hit me and I was done. All I wanted to do was go home, curl up on the couch, watch daytime television and let myself be miserable. I sat at my desk having a pity-party of one, and glanced at the afternoon schedule, hoping I could sneak out early. But the receptionist had added another appointment. It was my favorite client Bruce and his little dog Bean.

Bruce is a special client. He is always so kind and appreciative of the care we provide his pets. He makes us all feel like heroes. But today I didn’t want to see Bruce. I was concerned something was seriously wrong with his little Bean, which would make my day even worse.

The last time I had seen Bruce, we had to euthanize one of his beloved dogs. Bruce was heartbroken. After the euthanasia, he and I talked for a while about how much joy our pets bring us. Shortly after that, I read “A Dog’s Purpose” by W. Bruce Cameron and I immediately thought of Bruce. I bought a copy of the book and planned to give it to him as a special gift. But life was busy and the book had sat on my desk for six weeks.

As I got up from my desk to see my appointment, I glanced over and saw the book. I hesitated on whether to bring it with me into the appointment. It was supposed to be a special present and the timing didn’t feel right, given my sour mood. But I didn’t want the book to sit forgotten about for another six weeks, so I reluctantly picked it up. “Maybe I should write something in it” I thought, but talked myself out of it. It was just a simple paperback book and Bruce may not even like it. He may think it’s dumb if I write in it.

I walked into the appointment and handed him the book. I quietly said “I remember our conversation when Lake died and I thought you may enjoy this book.” As I handed him the book, his face lit up. He smiled and said “What a special gift! And the author even has the same name as me!” He opened the front cover and said “You didn’t write anything. Please at least write your name so I remember it came from you.” I took the book back and said I would think of something to write, then examined little Bean. While waiting for Bean’s test results, I took the book to my desk and thought about what to write. I realized my mood lifted by seeing Bruce. His appreciation of my little gift showed in the smile on his face. I realized that Bruce has this affect every time I see him. He is such a kind person and I always feel better after talking with him.

I picked up my pen and wrote “To one of my most favorite dog lovers. I hope this book brightens your day in the same way you always brighten my day.” Then I signed my name. I gave the book back to him and told him he couldn’t read what I wrote until he was home. I also gave him the great news, that Bean’s blood tests were good, nothing serious was wrong with Bean.

As Bruce was checking out, he said he had something to tell us. He was moving to be closer to his son and would be too far away to bring his pets to us. He said “In light of this, do you want to change what you wrote in the book?” I laughed and kidded him “Well, I was going to sign it ‘from your favorite veterinarian’”. He said “Oh please do! You know you will always be my favorite veterinarian and leaving everyone at this clinic makes this move hard.” He handed me the book again and I added “(your favorite veterinarian)” below my name.

He left and I had a huge smile on my face. My pity party was over. I felt much better and more energized. I thought about why my mood had improved. Yes, Bruce’s sunny personality and his kind words helped, but what really lifted my spirits was his reaction to me giving him the book. It was a small gesture, something I initially did reluctantly and half-heartedly but it gave him joy, which in return brought me joy.  To get out of my bad mood, I needed to stop thinking about myself and focus on someone else. Doing a nice gesture for another person and expecting nothing in return was the best thing I could do for myself.

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of the DrAndyRoark.com editorial team.

 

I’m going to let you in on a little secret….I practice what I preach.

 

When I recommend meditation, mindfulness, deep breathing and exercise in my compassion fatigue seminars and workshops, it’s because it has had a profound affect on me and my mental state. I’ve battled more than one addiction in my life and have come to realize how universal these simple, yet powerful practices can be when we incorporate them into our daily life.

 

Speaking of addictions, they are simply coping mechanisms that almost work. The object of our addiction (food, drugs, alcohol, technology, etc) almost soothes the dissonance we feel and the emotions we are trying to avoid. Almost.

 

 

The problem is when we come down, wake up or walk away we find that not only are the emotions, issues, problems, disappointments still there but now they have self-loathing on top of them. And difficult emotions bathed in self-loathing is a recipe for suffering. Trust me on this one, I’m very experienced.

 

I also know I am not alone. I recently received this message from a workshop participant:

 

“I am trying to do as you say and ‘let go’ because otherwise I know the job will destroy me…It can make you cry and scream. It can make you feel so angry and so sad. It can make you feel so helpless and disillusioned. It can make you feel so frustrated and overwhelmed. It can make you so angry at what we humans do to animals, how we treat them. Sometimes you just want to pound the walls, sometimes you do. Sometimes you just want to scream. Sometimes you do. Sometimes you just want to cry, sometimes you do. Sometimes you want to run away from it all, but you can’t, not really.”

 

So how do we let go? How do we stop torturing ourselves with our own intense emotions and critical thoughts?

 

[tweetthis]How do we stop torturing ourselves with our own intense emotions and critical thoughts?[/tweetthis]

 

One very helpful technique is the RAIN technique. It’s taught by many meditation and mindfulness teachers and can help you find not only self-compassion but relief from the mental boxing ring. I’ve used this technique when I find myself angry at someone for not doing what I want them to do, when I receive a comment about a seminar or workshop that I don’t like and then am hard on myself and when I just don’t feel quite right and don’t know why.

 

R= Recognize what you are feeling

 

Sometimes we just need to stop and say to ourselves “What am I feeling in this moment?”. Often we may be in a bad mood, feel off, cranky and our feelings are swirling around in the backdrop of our lives. We have to stop and notice that the hell we are actually feeling. Sometimes just naming them (anger, frustration, sadness) can bring a sense of freeing.

 

Oh, sadness, ok so that’s it. I’m feeling really sad about …

 

A= Allow, accept & acknowledge

 

Allow the feeling to permeate you, I can tell you it won’t let up until you actually feel it so why not just do it now? It won’t overtake you. You can handle it. Breathe and accept it as a friend. Feelings aren’t our enemy and yet we treat them as such. We do all kinds of things (see above) to avoid them only to find out they are never as intense as we imagined.

 

This doesn’t mean we like the feelings but we are acknowledging that they are there rather than continuing to try to push them down, away and distract ourselves from them.

 

 

Think about the energy that is required to repel them. It’s draining you.

 

This step is where we take a moment, pause and stop resisting what is.

 

Breathe….sadness…ok I’m letting you in…..breathe……I’m softening to it….oh, ok it’s not so bad…

 

I= Investigate 

 

Be curious about where in your body you are feeling the feeling or what you are believing about yourself. A favorite question to myself is “What am I making this mean?”. When we can be curious without judging we often can see that our thinking is often misconstrued.

 

We might also find that certain feelings are directly linked to our old tapes that are playing in the background, usually a version of I’m not good enough.

 

I’m feeling such a heaviness in my chest….and in my neck and shoulders….where have I felt this kind of sadness before? What am I making it mean about me? What am I projecting?

 

N= Non-identification

 

This is the most freeing part of the technique, to realize the thoughts and feelings are not YOU. You can literally step back and watch them from afar, not attaching, linking up with or identifying with them.

 

 

It’s not that we are ignoring them (at all!) but we realize that we are not our thoughts. As the popular bumper sticker says Don’t believe everything you think. That’s life-changing advice right there!

 

Ok, so the sadness is there, I see it but I’m not going to get lost in it. I don’t need to. I’ve let it wash over me and now I can step aside and just observe it and breathe……letting it go….letting it go…I breathe in calm, I breathe out stress…

 

[tweetthis]Step back and watch your feelings from afar, not attaching, linking up with or identifying with them[/tweetthis]

 

So here you have another practice to use when you find yourself swept up in emotion and overwhelmed or reaching for an unhealthy coping strategy like that third glass of wine or the pint of ice cream when you aren’t hungry.

 

I’ve found that I can sit with a feeling, feel it and then let it pass through me. That’s all it’s asking of us anyway, just to be acknowledged. That’s very different from attaching to it and burying it in our heart. And yes friends, it’s a practice which means we do it over and over and eventually we learn to trust that our emotions are actually friendly and have something to teach us.

 

Be kind to yourself.

 

“When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.”

~ Lao Tzu

 

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Julie Squires is a Certified Compassion Fatigue Specialist & Educator who brings a unique perspective and approach to support the sustained energy and passion of animal workers. Her company, Rekindle LLC, offers on-site compassion fatigue seminars and workshops to veterinary hospitals, animal shelters and other animal organizations.

Julie has more than 20 years of experience within the veterinary field and with leading organizations where she has developed and executed trainings, workshops and 1:1 coaching. www.rekindlesolutions.com

Here are four words I never thought I’d hear myself say: “I am a cyclist”. I’ve always detested exercise. If you ever saw me running, there was probably something chasing me.

When I started dating my husband, he introduced me to cycling. I bought an entry level bike, thinking it would have been much less work to just set the money on fire. I bought pants that made my butt look bigger on purpose. I bought pedals that fastened to my shoes. The first few times we did any climbing, I thought I would die before we finished the ride. Slowly, the climbing got easier, the pedals turned faster and my butt got smaller. I was in love – with the guy and the bike

Before long, I was screaming at Le Tour de France on TV, looking for bigger hills and longer rides and coveting a bike that cost more than my first car. When I don’t ride, my coworkers can tell. There’s something about the circular motion that clears my mind and makes me more positive. Over the last 8 years, I’ve learned a lot about cycling and myself. I’ve also learned how to better manage my veterinary career using lessons I learned while pushing pedals.

1 – When there is an obstacle in your path, look to the left or right of it. Where your eye goes, your bike will follow. Focus not on what’s in your way, but how to get beyond it.

2 – Balance is the key. If you want to move, you have to stay balanced. If you lean too hard in any one direction, there’s a good chance you’ll crash. Avoid leaning hard into work all the time instead of spending time with family or taking care of yourself.

Know that the ground is harder than your head.

3 – WEAR A HELMET. Know that the ground is harder than your head. Protect yourself all around – have insurance, protect your license, practice good medicine, listen to your gut, write it down.

4 – ALWAYS fill your tires. It’s much easier to get a flat when your tire is soft and susceptible to puncture. If you keep yourself filled with diet, exercise and positive thoughts, it will be harder for anyone or anything to deflate you.

5 – Have a great team. One unsafe, low-concentration, bad-attitude team member can make everyone kiss the pavement. If someone isn’t pulling their weight, put them on notice. If they can’t be a positive influence on the team, get rid of them.

6 – Everyone on the team needs to be healthy and well-rested. If you or your team are working hung over, sick or overtired, you endanger your patients and your license. Sometimes not being at your best is unavoidable, but if it’s becoming a frequent occurrence, address it.

7 – If you’re pedaling so hard that you lose your form, slow down. There is a point where you are seeing so many patients that you are practicing medicine beneath your skills. Figure out what that point is and avoid getting near it. Remember that if someone pushes you into practicing fast rather than good medicine, they will disappear the second it comes back to bite you.

8 – Respect the machine. The bike can’t ride without you and vice versa. Maintain your equipment, practice good self-care. Above all, listen to your body. Know when something just isn’t right and address it before things fall apart.

Here are four words I never thought I’d hear myself say: “I am a cyclist”.

9 – Clip in to your pedals. It’s scary being committed to anything. You don’t reach your full power until you tie your feet to the pedals. Not only do they push down, but they lift up, using the full potential of your legs. Commit yourself to being the best professional you can be. Utilize all your skills and learn new ones. Leave work at work and home at home as much as possible. Concentrate on the patient, family member or problem in front of you. Don’t forget to concentrate on the person in the mirror regularly.

10 – You can climb the mountain. It may be hard. It may hurt. It may make you cry – but getting to the top is like no other feeling in the world.

I’ve learned how to better manage my veterinary career using lessons I learned while pushing pedals.

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of the DrAndyRoark.com editorial team.

In the ups and downs of life, we have good years and bad years. Some years are like a dream you never want to leave, filed away in the wistful memory banks as “The Amazing Summer of 2011” or whatnot, and others are particularly nightmarish beast-years you want to set on fire and never mention again. I had one of those this year.

As veterinarians, I think we’re often extra susceptible to those sorts of years from hell since we take on such enormous professional burdens. 2010, for example, was my last terrible year, and it involved a deceased patient, lawyers, a loathsome TV reporter, and the demise of my sanity. By the end of the year, I was past burned out and more of a charred, hollow husk of ash incapable of walking into a clinic without hyperventilating. But I learned a lot from the experience, and I wanted to end this crappy year by sharing some of those lessons with you:

• It’s OK to take a breather.

When you reach that tipping point, continuing to push yourself can be disastrous for your emotional and physical health. If you need to take a break, do it, whether that means a short vacation or a leave of absence from the profession. Will your boss judge you? Who cares! It is never too late to come back down the road. People do it all the time.

• Sometimes you have to set out with no plan.

We’re Type A, I know it. Quitting a bad job or taking a breather after a traumatic divorce or whatever the situation is, sometimes you are going to be in a place where you are looking ahead without being entirely sure what’s there. Something is there, and that’s all that really matters for now. Better to move forward into the unknown than remain in despair, because hope is really what defines us as humans, right? Never lose hope.

I wanted to end this crappy year by sharing some of these lessons with you.

• Be open to things you weren’t expecting.

After surviving the Year From Hell, I diagnosed my labrador with osteosarcoma and I started the new year by euthanizing her. Not much of an improvement, no, but the colleague who came by to help asked if I wanted to work with her part-time, and that is how I ended up doing home hospice and euthanasia. It’s amazing work. I thought I understood everything about death after a decade or so in the field, but OH, I was so, so wrong.

• Have faith that surviving this is going to make you stronger.

Because guess what? After surviving one terrible year you’re probably going to have another. Welcome to being human. But what they say about what doesn’t kill you is entirely true, and I can verify that after experiencing 2015.

Life got much better in the intervening years after 2010. I realized no one pilloried me for saying “I don’t enjoy working in a clinic anymore”, I got to write a book, I went on some World Vets trips, I decided to embrace the whole self-care thing and became a spinning nut. I picked the kids up from school every day. Everything was beautiful. And then- 2015 came lumbering in.

One day I was happily decorating the house for Easter dinner with the kids, relishing the happiness that comes from being surrounded by family who loves you, and the next day my Dad texted me that my mother had a brain tumor. It really was that fast. The next two months were a blur.

She wanted to forego treatment. I fought for her to be allowed to leave the radiologist behind and go straight to hospice, using lessons I learned from my veterinary work to argue with the doctors.

She wanted to live her last days at my home, with the kids around her. I swallowed my fear and brought her in, not knowing what they would be seeing.

I took another break from work, because she needed me. And I needed to be there. There was nothing more important than being present.

I continued to go to the gym, because I understood by that point that taking care of yourself is the only way to fully be there for those who need you.

My mom died this year, and I’ve never been so sad and lost as I am now. But the garbage that I survived in 2010 was so important for setting the stage and giving me the tools I needed to make it through this year, and I’m grateful for it.

• Trust in those who want to help.

I know I’m not living some unique People Story of the Week – in fact, I know of four close friends who lost a parent this year alone.

So if you had a miserable hell year, I hear you, friend. Join me over here at the bonfire and let’s light this garbage up and never speak of it again. We got this one. May our 2016 be filled with better things.

One of the glorious truths is that if you allow it, those around you will build you back up.

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The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of the DrAndyRoark.com editorial team.