#Fincon18: Beginnings and Endings

#FinCon18: Beginnings and Endings

I found myself choking slightly as I wiped the tears from my eyes.  I have been crying a lot lately.  Not the all out cry, but the blurring of vision and mistiness that one tries to hide in public.  A funny thing for someone who can talk of death and dying to his patients without even batting an eye.  I don’t cry when it is too painful.  When the risks are too great.  But catch me watching a nostalgic TV commercial and water works start.  When it is safe. I can be emotional and vulnerable.  When I don’t have to protect myself.  I have been talking a lot about the future here at #FinCon18.  Beginnings and endings often come together.  Don’t they?

And it is safe.

So the tears have started to flow.

Beginnings

I have never really been part of a group before.  Never found my people.  This is not something I ever regretted.  When my friends in high school were off to the football games, I stayed home.  This apathy carried into college.  I never felt the so called university spirit.  I loved my school.  But I never was a part of it.  I was always separate.

Being a doctor has been no different.  I cringe when someone asks me about my doctor friends.  My reply often stuns them.

I have no doctor friends.

My habitual allergy to being part of a group has plagued me throughout my career.  An Afterthought.  This feeling of being different, of being separate, was almost a source of pride.

I stood alone with pride.  But I was alone none the less.

Becoming part of the financial independence community.  Going to two CampFis.    Attending #Fincon18.  I for once no longer feel alone.  Or separate.  Or different.

And strangely it feels nice.

Beginnings and Endings

Endings

In the process of meeting new people at events like these, you eventually start to talk about career.  Whether in love with your job, early retired, or aspiring, the topic will come up.  It is of great interest at #Fincon18

Inevitably I end up talking about doctoring.  I explain my path to half retirement, and how I will be leaving the clinical portion of my job.  It’s time.  Extirpating the nursing home will relieve years of stress and fear.

I explain how my hospice work doesn’t require direct patient care.  And that’s when my tears start to flow.  Uncontrollably.  Uncomfortably.

I’m mourning.

Beginnings and endings.

Transitions

It is time to transition my life from one purpose to the next.  Time to embrace my true identity as a communicator, writer, and content producer, and leave the vision of the healer behind.

That vision has served me for decades.  It has fueled my passions and sat on a my chest like an uncomfortable vest.  A grudging part of myself.

It’s time to begin again.