Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Change-induced anhedonia

So, the Singing Pen has been struggling to get motivated lately.  Despite Larry Bauer's excellent guest post nearly two weeks ago, I just can't seem to get a post beyond a few sentences these days.  I am beginning to see that my disinterest with academic and family medicine topics is due to an overriding issue that, until now, it has not been appropriate for me to broadly share.

I have announced my resignation at my current position, as my husband and I will be moving out-of-state in September.  The decision to leave - and choosing new jobs - has been an agonizing process for us.

I've always been an efficient and energetic worker, but lately I am finding myself distractable and fidgety.  Keeping my focus to precept or teach is a chore.  I have little interest in following Twitter.  I've barely posted on Facebook and am isolating myself from my friends.

I am experiencing both grief and anxiety.  Grief for what will be lost, anxiety for what is to come.  I am already mourning the loss of day-to-day interactions with colleagues, learners, and staff here.  I worry if I will I fit in at this new place.  I don't want to start over again building relationships.

To be fair, I am also excited about our future.  I genuinely enjoyed meeting my future colleagues, who are an amazing and inspiring group.  It'll be fun to house hunt again.  The city is beautiful and the right size - with the right amount to do - for us.  We will be much closer to our families, whom we've both been feeling the pull to be closer to lately.  I am confident that the decision to relocate is the right one for us.

But this place, where I survived residency, conquered fellowship, and took my first fledgling attending steps, feels like home to me.  With the perspective of the interview trail behind me, I see now that my identity has been too tightly enmeshed with my current position.  My self-view is dominated by this program and the work that I do here.  Perhaps I have cared too much, been too invested in this place.  Regardless, the time has clearly come for me to leave the nest.

I just wish that I wasn't afraid to fly.


  1. Don't be afraid. When I came out I started my own practice solo. It was terrifying, but it was also awesome and rewarding. You will be amazed how you feel a year from now in the "real" world. Good luck!

  2. Good luck and best wishes! And no worries about taking a break from your blog if you need to. We'll be here when you return. I'm sure that we haven't heard the last of "The Singing Pen."