Benjamin

I feel like I've been screaming for years. Begging someone to listen. To hear me. To acknowledge my experience. For years, I've been running to doctors, who have either said, "Yup. That's what's happening," without any interest at all in getting to the bottom of why and actually fixing the underlying problem or they have completely dismissed my experience of living in my own body and said, "Everything looks great. I don't really know what you're complaining about." 

Meanwhile, my life was quietly spiraling downward, losing more control of myself, losing some of my favorite functions. All the while knowing that something was wrong, but not being able to get anyone to actually listen to me. 

And then, I met Benjamin. Dr. Benjamin. And I told him the same story I'd been telling for years, told him all the things that other doctors had been telling me, told him how it was getting me nowhere at all. He listened to what I had to say, took one look, and said, "Yup," and I thought here we go. Another guy who can see it, but can't get to the bottom of it.

Then, he told me it was going to take a surgery, but we'd fix it.

Friends, I met Dr. Benjamin a month ago. Literally one month - the first week of June, when God orchestrated that when I called his office to try to get on his list (because he is the guy, I was told), he had just so happened to open up office hours for two business days from that phone call, and I got one of those spots. 

It's been one month, and Dr. Benjamin has already been through my insurance, had me in surgery, seen me for a follow-up appointment, and gotten me back to work. 

Just like that. 

And I'm wrestling, of course, with what all of this means. With the possibilities that it holds for giving me important parts of my life back. With how stupidly simple it's been to actually fix the problem after years of screaming into the seeming abyss with folks who weren't interested. With how frustrating it is to have wasted so much of my money and time on tests and doctors who were never going to listen to those tests and doctors who were dismissive of me and a whole host of persons who could have helped me if they had only cared enough to listen and to understand the very real stress this whole thing was putting on my life. 

And as I'm wrestling, I'm also thinking, of course, about the number of persons in my life that have been screaming into the abyss. The ones who have just needed someone to listen. The ones who have called me or who have had me walk into their space in some kind of capacity who needed, more than anything, for someone to listen. To acknowledge the very real nature of what they're going through and the impact it's having on their lives. The very real impact on their very real lives. 

I think about the persons who have crossed my path who have been suffering - literally suffering - because no one would hear them. 

And I am reminded to listen. 

I confess that I have been able, I think, to "solve" fewer problems that I have encountered than Dr. Benjamin, but I also confess that I have been part of some really cool moments, by the grace of God, that took some orchestrating but were worth every bit of it. All because I was willing to listen to what no one else was hearing. 

Listening is a beautiful gift and a great honor - for the person doing it and for the one receiving it. You never know what great things you may do if you take the time to tune in. 

May I always be a person who is listening. 

May my listening ear be the catalyst that changes someone's life for the better and sets someone free.