I didn't rise to the occasion as one of my colleagues suggested I do when I told her about my anxiety around wearing the mask during my leadership seminars. I didn't hold my head up high, either. I sat in the back of the room, silenced, tears of rage dripping down onto my neck. My emotions got the better of me (another cliche), and I silently fumed at the ridiculousness of the policy. I thought about how much I despise the western medical world sometimes. I thought about how stupid it is for me to do so much in the medical world, especially given the extraordinary circumstances in which I live. I thought about exiting -- the whole thing. Retiring from this work, burying myself in my own family, in my own community, reading and writing.
I didn't rise to the occasion because on some level I actually don't believe in the occasion.
I'm sick of it. And now I have a mask that symbolically and literally shuts me up.
