Earrings

Image credit: Unsplash @suuzer

I love jewelry. Who doesn’t? But I’m ambivalent about bedecking myself, as that draws attention. While that reticence is my natural inclination, it’s also been reinforced by my work as a therapist psychiatrist. When I was in training, I was taught the following.

You are in the relationship to be of service to the patient. The focus should always be on them, not you.

Dress neutrally, to visually emphasize that the relationship is professional, not personal. You are not dressing to enhance your attractiveness. You are dressing to emphasize your function.            

Avoid sharing personal information. Patients enter treatment wanting to change and feel better, which is hard emotional work. They also do everything they can to avoid that work. (This is called resistance.) Asking personal questions (that are irrelevant to their treatment) is resistance. For example: “That’s a cute sweater! Where did you buy it?” You don’t tell them. Instead, your answer should bring them back to the work at hand. For example: “We were just talking about (insert issue of choice). Could you be changing the subject?”

Bottom line: Don’t distract patients from doing their work with your individuality, to the best of your ability.

To the best of my ability—that’s the rub of course. Even if I wanted to, and I don’t, it’s impossible to completely efface myself. “Neutral” dress choices aren’t neutral. The act of choosing what to wear, no matter how quiet, still reveals me as an individual. Earrings are my weakness. Accidently on purpose, they have functioned as a concession to my need for a little beauty and the professional mandate for constraint. They are a spot of color in the field of sartorial blandness. Ties serve the same purpose for men who wear suits.

Though, by inclination and being always too busy, I’m not one to spend a lot of time on what I wear. I prefer slip-on shoes, the top sweater in the drawer, and yesterday’s pair of earrings. Quick and easy; one less thing to do; one less decision to make. A brush through my hair; a glance at the mirror; good enough.

That said, unusual, beautiful, and cleverly crafted earrings exert a strong pull, especially when I’m at craft fairs or walking past jewelry store display windows. Ohhh, I love those! I’ll admit, I have bought way too many earrings over the course of my adult life. Now that I’m a woman of a certain age, this accumulation is a serious problem.  When, and where, will I wear them? I work less, go out less, and in general dress mostly for comfort. I’ve been wearing the same pair—a hook-in, minimalist dangly, a straight silver wire ending in a small perfect circle of the same wire— day in day out, for years. They go with everything.

The pair I wore all the time when I was a psych resident were danglies too. Three small, clear glass pebbles with chips of royal blue, black, and cranberry inside, they were stacked on top of each other like a cairn. A simple hook through my ear lobe; no back; no extra step. They went with everything.

I unearthed them recently and was thrown back to those four long years of hundred-hour weeks— the intense thirst for learning, the terrible uncertainty, the thrilling relationships with patients who actually felt better for working with me. I slid the hooks through my earlobes and found them unbearably heavy. Like I found those years at the time. Yet looking back now, there was no question I would get through them. So, really, I wore those years lightly, just as I did these beautiful earrings, taking my youthful vigor and my youthful earlobes for granted.

I swung my head a little. Yes, too heavy. I slipped them out onto my palm and gazed at them fondly. They are so lovely, I thought, but they no longer fit. And that’s okay. I’ve been a working psychiatrist for thirty seven years, and earrings—these lovelies from the residency, the simple silver wire line-and-circles I wear now, and the many in between— have kept me company on that journey, a personal and professional constant. How far I’ve come.

I considered the two small artifacts from my past nestled in my hand. What to do with them? I don’t want to let go of this portal to when my life as an adult began. Then again, they shouldn’t languish in my jewelry box just because I’ve evolved and can’t wear them. I should give them to a vibrant, competent woman who will love them like I did. But not yet.

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