Choosing Joy is Resistance
How’re you doing?
I got this question frequently in my recent absence.
Where have I been? Right here. Exactly where I should have been. Taking care of life; working; resting; and transitioning to what feels like a new chapter in my life. Holding space for the transition- withholding my natural tendency to ‘begin’ another journey, set another goal post without first appreciating the beauty( and pain) of the last 100,000 miles.
I’m very good at ‘doing things’; and less practised at truly resting and pausing- rest is a superpower I continue to aspire to.
Since my last blog post, I have had so many firsts.
My first half marathon- I ran the Glasgow half marathon in under 4 hours!
My first oral presentation at an international conference on a subject I genuinely care about.
My first party to celebrate myself that I’ve thrown since my wedding in almost 10 years.
My first consultant (attending) job, after completing 9 years of residency in obstetrics & gynaecology🍾#CCT
I’m sure there will be more firsts!
But I am marking time to celebrate my achievements and failures and express gratitude for the body, mind, experiences, and community that got me here.
I am learning how to speak without self-censoring. I am enjoying resting and just being. Normally I’m an active rester. Which is code for I just can’t sit still and my sense of self-worth is still wrapped around my productivity.
But increasingly I’m learning how to truly rest. I’ve had agenda-free, guilt-free rest- listened to so many books and podcasts; and read some new fiction- which is a big deal as I’m more of a non-fiction kinda gal. I’ve been experimenting with creative fictional writing and brainstorming on creative and communal ways to channel my passion for social justice. It’s been fun and I can’t wait to share some of this with you.
In this period, I have also been lucky to be able to see and spend time with those nearest and dearest to me. This is significant because my home and my heart are far and near across multiple time zones and continents. I am part of a global village that sustains me.
And now I’m writing this blog on a plane to Antalya- my first and not my last trip to Turkey. I’m excited about the prospect of a bit of sunshine and warmth to break up the harsh Scottish winter. But even more excited about trying authentic Turkish delight, which I’ve had a mild obsession with since reading Edmund’s account of indulging in the sugary cubes of temptation in the book The Lion the Witch and The Wardrobe by C.S Lewis.
For some time, my happiness felt rogue. I would even get intrusive thoughts warning me about ‘senseless’ impending doom. Perhaps don’t celebrate so openly in case you fail, or something unexpected happens. The undertones of this are that being authentically joyful would grant me the well-deserved karma of mishap ‘because you shouldn’t be so joyful and immodest in your truth and glee. I’ve also felt a pang of guilt about expressing joy in the face of the senseless humanitarian crises and genocide in Palestine. I remember the ongoing instability in Sudan whilst caring for a pregnant woman who recently fled Sudan to seek asylum in Scotland. And am reminded about the daily trafficking of young women when I met a 16-year-old Vietnamese woman in the early pregnancy unit with an ectopic pregnancy.
We need a global cease-fire
Everywhere you look if you look hard enough there is a plethora of human suffering. Thinking specifically of innocent lives in Palestine, Sudan, Syria, Yemen, Ethiopia and the DRC.
I renounce the oppressive forces globally brought on by historical enduring legacies of colonialist, white supremacist, capitalist and oppressive systems that disregard the sanctity of human life.
I remember the lives of people gone too soon. I pray they rest in peace, power, and love. I pray for strength for those left behind.
And(not but), amidst this suffering there is also a plethora of joy. Right now joy feels like a privilege. I am grateful to have some.
Today I choose joy
When I first launched this blog, my dad intrigued by the title quizzed me about my choice of title- Echi Di Ime. In my language, Igbo, Echi Di Ime means “tomorrow is pregnant”. Perhaps an apt title for an obstetrician and gynaecologist, we joked. Echi Di Ime also means “no one knows what tomorrow will bring”. The title's significance to me is in my daily affirmation of hope. I continue to choose joy amidst the less joyful and uncertain parts of human existence.
Whilst away I thought about you my readers of Echi Di Ime. Initially, I felt guilt- oh I’ve let it slip. What if I don’t know what else to write? What if I lose my readers? Perhaps I’m not cut out for this. That’s the recovering people pleaser with a tinge on imposter syndrome in me speaking.
Nevertheless, It feels right to be back here. I have so much to write about. I’m taking my time, hopefully, you’ll stick around.
Stay tuned for more( whenever it arrives).
