I’ve been doing a rumba for the last 6 years, being drawn in by the seductive rhythms and passionate low pleading of the song. Each time I’ve turned my face away, hand outstretched, yearning to find my own steps, I’ve been forcefully embraced by a silent partner and led back into the choreography which was chosen long ago.

This metaphor could describe many of the layers I’m peeling away from a life which no longer feels authentic. The process is slow…not like ripping off a bandaid, more like wiping the grime off of a window that has been dirty and nagging for years, but has been overlooked for more pressing tasks.

I graduated from chiropractic school in late 2006 and received my license to practice in 2008 after rigorous national and state exams. Since that time, I have seen probably less than 50 different patients. After some initial excitement of setting up a home office and getting all of my ducks in a row, I’ve just never been “ready” to take the plunge and start trying to attract clients. Granted, there have been some really major stumbling blocks in my life during those years, but I almost feel like I’ve used them as an excuse not to practice.

If I’m being honest, the questions began the first time I toured the chiropractic school. Before I started, I was in a graduate program to teach science, but teaching high school was not turning out to be a very attractive proposition. A classmate of mine, who was a chiropractor herself, told me about her work. It paid well, the hours were decent, and there was an opportunity to help a lot of people using my science background.

It alI sounded very promising, and I decided to check out the school.  As I peered in the technique classrooms, some of the students had others lying on benches, practicing moves that were very foreign and strange-looking to me. My stomach tightened a bit. I couldn’t really see myself there. I ignored that feeling, as I had done so many times, and feigned enthusiasm.  In no time at all, I was enrolled and large promissory notes were signed.

I soon met another skeptic with a delightfully sarcastic sense of humor. Several times each semester, we would sit in the gazebo in the middle of campus, making fun of the chiropractic zealots and questioning whether this was the semester we should drop out and find another career or transfer to a less cultist school.

Once we got about halfway through the program, leaving became less and less realistic. We were in too far, both financially and academically. (Few people realize that chiropractors take all of the same courses as med students; they just have shorter “residencies”.) I also had a pride issue at stake. My brother had bet me at the outset that I wouldn’t finish the program. I proved him wrong. In retrospect, I’m not sure that was a win.

Since graduation, I’ve had numerous opportunities to go in with other doctors or rent my own space. I’ve even signed a lease and backed out of the deal. Something just keeps telling me not to commit. I love the idea of helping people and having my own space, but when it comes right down to it, I don’t love chiropractic. I find myself almost giddy when people cancel appointments. Don’t get me wrong, I find tremendous value in chiropractic, and I am an avid patient. I just don’t want to do it to others all day long.

This is probably the first time I have laid my feelings bare to such an extent, even to myself. It’s not easy to say. I have almost $300,000 in student loan debt, which is far more than my mortgage. I feel like I should suck it up and just make the money. But I can’t. Living through cancer has made it impossible to keep doing things I don’t want to do. The “shoulds” are slowly losing the power they have held over me for my entire life.

I don’t know what I”ll do from here, and that’s more than a little scary. My passion is nutrition. I would love to help people get well with lifestyle changes and natural remedies as much as possible, but I’m not sure I can deal with the public day in and day out. I need a lot of time for introspection, or I tend to get overwhelmed. Teaching might be the ultimate solution, maybe with a practice on the side.

I have a lot of good skills that I must now figure out how to weave into a cohesive fabric of occupational fulfillment while somehow still paying the bills Am I being unrealistic, asking for too much, going crazy? Maybe…probably…but I can’t continue to be an impostor in my own life. For better or worse, this is the new me. And I’m learning to like her.


An Unexpected Confession


I was privileged to witness an unexpected and very touching seen at work today. It was one of those moments that catches you off guard and makes you reflect deeply on your own life. It probably lasted no more than ten minutes, but I’ve thought about it all day.

As I was finishing up some last minute paperwork at my desk before heading home, the pathologist came into the office to talk to my co-worker, who is the pathology department supervisor. He is a lovely man with a thick Charleston drawl and a great sense of humor. I’ve always admired the fact that he is humble and easygoing. Many doctors forget that they are human after a few years in practice.

The two talked shop for a few minutes and then the conversation turned to family. Dr. P told her that his son, who is the youngest of 4 children, will soon be moving to Austin, Texas with his girlfriend. He said it would be the first time that his children were so far away from him; he’s always had at least one at home. My co-worker suggested that it might be a nice break for him and his wife to be carefree. What he said next shocked and saddened me.

“No, I think it’ll be sad and I’ll miss them” he began. “I realize now that I didn’t spend enough time with the kids. I’ve always been so busy. Between work and doing the things I wanted to do alone, I really screwed up…bad.”

I was purposely eavesdropping now, riveted by his poignant honesty.

He put his head in his hands for a moment, then continued. “You think that you’re kids are going to be there forever because that’s your life. There’s plenty of time later. Then, one morning you wake up, and they’re grown. And they’re busy doing their own thing that no longer includes you.”

He hesitated, perhaps realizing how much of himself he had revealed, and tried to lighten the mood. “Oh well, I guess all parents wish that they had done something differently at times.”

And then it was over. My co-worker excused herself and Dr. P followed on her heels. I was left sitting in my chair, alone in the office, to ponder the weight of his words. I feel like I spend a good amount of time with my kids, but there is room for improvement. Sometimes we’re physically in the same house, but we’re definitely not together. Instead, we’re all engrossed in our individual electronic devices, our solitary pursuits. I need to make a conscious effort to get everybody “unplugged” more often and to find things we can do to make happy memories.

The universe has a funny way of getting just the right message to us when we need it, if we’re willing to listen. We only get one shot to be parents. With all of the frustrations, expenses, and heartaches that our kids bring, there is no greater love in life. And there is no greater loss than knowing that you have squandered an opportunity that will never come again.


A Sweet Betrayal

Photo courtesy of sunnyday at

Photo courtesy of sunnyday at

This post is in response to the Trifecta weekly writing challenge. This week’s assignment is 38 words total, and the last 5 words must be: “That wasn’t what I meant.” The first 33 words are supplied by you! Join the fun.


“I know what you’ve been hiding.”

She collapsed at his feet, months of deceit spilling out around her.

“It was just sex. I don’t love him.”

He pointed to her stash of chocolate.

“That wasn’t what I meant.”