The Bands that Pull

Her partner held the stretchy band across her waist and pulled from behind while she tried to run forward. She would do maximum effort for 45seconds and then the class instructor would tell them to switch. As she ran she felt the pull of the band pulling her back. Her body got tired of trying to stretch it forward and her mind started to see that she was not going anywhere. She felt her will giving away and she decided she would just allow herself to be pulled to the floor, when the instructor said, “Switch!”

“You are too pretty to be a doctor. You should be a nurse!” The band pulled at her just as she started to run. She had seemingly come out of the womb with grit and strength and bossiness that would later develop into standing at the foot of the bed of limp and blue child and commanding the dance of an emergency department resuscitation team. But that was 20 years of training and experience in the future. She was just starting out with energy abound, but felt the pull of the band slow her run ever so slightly. “Maybe he was right,” became a seed that she tried to bury and ignore. But those seeds still seem to grow; especially if they are weeds.

“Why do you need a promotion? Your husband is a rich anesthesiologist!” The band, growing tighter and tighter over a decade, grew tighter still. She was tired and worn as she held her promotion packet that contained evidence of doctoral degrees and research theses and publications, educational lectures, and international medical experience. A portfolio she had willed and worked into being despite never being thought of or asked into opportunity. She looked at it resigned. Maybe it wasn’t enough. Maybe she didn’t belong at the next table. Truth be told, she was nearly exhausted from the pull and wasn’t sure how much she cared anymore. Why was she running? She just wanted to let her guard down, to laugh, to not feel alone.

“Get out of my office! How dare you demand to be included! Get out now!!” She stood rooted to the floor in fear. The band was pulled so tight she was going to fall. She had grown tired of not being seen and done her best self-advocacy. But now she was physically scared as the senior colleague rose up to his full height and yelled in her face. She didn’t fall largely from the fear and the adrenaline. But the band snapped. She could not run against the pull anymore. She quit.

She started her new life that was what the world expected. She became who they all thought she should be, and the pull lessened. She rested and slept and played in her garden. She slept some more and took long walks outside and made herself eat nutritious food. She laughed and felt the sun. It was good to be free from the pull.

“We get shit done.” She was stronger and older and found herself in a leadership development meeting where her test answers had placed her in a small group with the ones labeled with a “commanding leadership” style. She looked at the all male towering crowd from her small frame and knew her people as she spoke up. These were the people who knew her insides. They were the helpers that without much decoration of pomp or words, ran into hard missions and led others through. When she looked at them, she saw herself more clearly than she perhaps had ever seen herself.

That day she saw that she was strong and capable, fierce and protective, and most importantly, she had been born exactly that way for purpose. She had simply gotten too tired from the band. The band that other people had placed and pulled around her. The band that she had broken. The band that she never had to accept back. Switch.

Rested and ready she looked at the future and then up to the sky with a smile. “Let’s go,” she said. “We are free.“