Climbing Mountains

So, my daughter said something quite timely to me today:

She said,

"Dad, if I were you, I would climb mountains."

...

I needed to hear this. 2016 hasn't been a bad year by any stretch; in fact, in many obvious ways, it's been a success.

But it's been a tough one for me internally. My periodic bouts with depression resurfaced in the face of a lot of stressors and worked to derail the progress I made in the last few years in terms of eating healthily, exercising frequently, and writing regularly.

And thus, the snowball was born.

It left me with a lot of doubt and negative inertia as far as these goals and key components of my life have been concerned, and I've been struggling to get them back on track. Just in terms of my writing alone, I've had a lot of rejections over the past five years, and they really start to wear on you. This is a major goal of mine, and lots of days, I feel like I haven't gotten anywhere with it.

And then there's this whole residency thing.

Not to mention the fact that sometimes, everything can be going just fine, and that doesn't change the fact that I don't want to answer the phone.

Or get out of bed for a week.

That's just how this stuff goes.

But over the past week, I've really been thinking a lot about how to get back on track. New city, new job, these things help. I also listened to the musical Hamilton for the first time, and it's been incredibly inspiring. (Seriously, it deserves all the hype. And then some.) I remember now that I still have a lot of goals, as a writer, as a physician.

As a father and husband.

Mountains to climb, you might say.

And apparently, when my daughter looks at me, she sees someone who has everything it takes to rise to the top of the world.

I guess I best get to it, then.