If you know anything about me, you know how much I resist being put in a box. Especially the Doctor Box. Or even more narrowly, the Vagina Box. As much as I want to be recognized for all the Renaissance gifts I’m blessed to have, the fact that I'm an MD is what draws the majority of the attention I get. It’s why Cosmopolitan magazine asked me for a quote last week. It’s why Huffington Post named me among their Twitter Powerhouses. It’s why a New York editor approached me with the idea to write my book What’s Up Down There. It’s why TV and radio producers call.

And yet, I'm not practicing traditional medicine anymore after closing my practice in December. I left medicine for many reasons, but the biggest is because I’m so sick and tired of the way medicine is being practiced that I don’t want to be affiliated with it anymore. I’m pissed at doctors, and I’m even more pissed at managed care insurance companies, malpractice lawyers, and the pharmaceutical industry. I experienced such trauma at the hands of all of the above that I just want out. My Inner Pilot Light has had it with our broken health care system.

And yet, at the same time, I feel called to try to change it. Something within me tells me I’m supposed to lead a movement. I’m supposed to be an MD revolutionary so I can shine a light on what it means to truly help people heal.

So I'm in the midst of a bit of an identity crisis right now.

Every time someone recognizes me because of my doctor-ness, I start to cringe. Which is weird, right? I mean, I'm great at what I do. I went to school for 12 years and practiced for 10 years. And yet, I find myself shrinking from the MD title with a bizarre and seemingly out of proportion strength of passion usually reserved for people being called four-letter words, not well-respected titles like “Doctor.”

I know, I know. I mean, how strange is it that when someone recognizes me as a health expert, I feel like screaming? Why is it that I want to burn my white coat? Why do I resist being recognized, even in positive ways, because of my contributions to the world of women’s health?

It makes no sense. And yet, that’s how I feel.

At least until last week, when I had a massive breakthrough. I was out hiking by the ocean, where I do my best thinking, when a vision came to me.

A World-Sized Doctor Box

I hate being crammed into the Doctor Box. And no wonder. Boxes feel small and limiting, like cages, and when you finally take the leap of faith and learn you can fly freely, the last thing you want is to be pushed back into the cage.

But I’ve recently realized that my tendency to resist the box is also inhibiting my growth. I’m getting in my own way -- again. (Damn! Why must I learn everything the hard way?)

The world wants me to be a doctor. And I AM a doctor. I’m a kick ass doctor, actually, and there’s nobody out there quite like me. I suspect the world wants me to be a doctor because I am leading the way. I am a health care pioneer. And by resisting the title because it feels like a box, perhaps I’m resisting my very calling.

Perhaps I need to redefine the Doctor Box.

The first vision that came to me on my hike was a world-sized Doctor Box. Imagine a box as big as the earth. If the Doctor Box was supersized, rather than narrow and constricting, I could fly freely, be ALL LISSA, ALL THE TIME, and still embrace my profession, knowing all the while that I am more than what I do.

Expanding The Definition Of Health

The other reason I resist being shoved into the “health” category is that I don’t like the way others define health. It’s also too small. Too narrow. Too body-focused and not expansive enough to contain everything I believe contributes to whole health and true vitality.

In my opinion, you can’t be wholly healthy without expressing yourself creatively, connecting spiritually, engaging in loving relationships, doing work you love, tapping into your sensual self, giving back to the world and serving your life purpose, in addition to nurturing your body. It’s just not enough to focus solely on the body, as I was taught to do in medical school.

Even the wellness advocates who approach health with more of a mind/body/spirit philosophy miss the boat, in my opinion, because I don’t think it’s enough to be merely “well.” People wind up at the doctor’s office all the time because they feel like something is off. The doctor runs a battery of tests, does a physical exam, finds no abnormalities, and pronounces the patient “well.”

Wellness isn’t enough.

I want people to feel vital. I want them to be juiced up, filled with mojo, and skyrocketing to the stratosphere is all aspects of their life. I want people to truly heal, to break the chains that bind them to dysfunction, disease, dissatisfaction and disconnection so they can be FREE. I long to help people feel the kind of joy I feel every day since embarking upon the healing journey that began five years ago during my Perfect Storm.

Having personally transformed from feeling broken to feeling whole, I want to share what I’ve learned with the world. I want to bear witness to the healing of millions of people are suffering through pain, sadness, crippling illness, loneliness, and a soul-sucking disconnect people feel from each other, their bodies, and their lives.

AND NOBODY IS TALKING ABOUT THIS. At least, not in terms of “medicine.”

Nobody ever taught me how to help people achieve this kind of wholeness and vitality in medical school, but I’ve been reading voraciously, studying with healers, taking workshops, and trying to fill in all the gaps in my knowledge so I can help teach you how to feel more vital in your life.

My A-Ha Moment

I realized on my hike that the reason I find myself apologizing to people on behalf of doctors and the reason I don't necessarily want to be lumped into the same box as them is because most doctors aren’t practicing the kind of medicine I believe genuinely heals. And the Western medical system’s definition of "health" is just too small.

I want to be part of something bigger. But if I expand what it means to be a doctor to include the healing work I’m doing now, and if I expand the definition of health to emcompass everything Owning Pink is about, well…now that’s something I can get excited about. That’s something I can embrace with my whole heart.

If I could be that kind of doctor, I would wear the white coat with pride and brandish my title like a badge of honor.

I suddenly realized, while traipsing through the mud at sunset, that there's no point throwing out the baby with the bathwater.

I finally found the baby in an ocean-sized bathtub! I found my thread.

I AM an MD, and I DO care about health. I felt called to medicine at the age of 7, and I have cared about helping people live vital lives ever since. I just have to learn how to do it my way.

So what’s the baby? What thread did I discover?

I am a healer. I own that. I have been a healer all my life. I know how to help heal not only bodies, but minds, hearts, and spirits. Why would I let that go, when the world needs me right now?

I don’t need to run from some narrow Doctor Box or cut myself off from the health care world. I just need to redefine it so it’s expansive enough to contain all of my ideas, so I can be ALL ME, ALL THE TIME and still have room to flourish.

How will I do this? I have no clue. Maybe I’ll write a book about it. Maybe I’ll start teaching workshops and giving lectures. Maybe I’ll develop a curriculum for medical schools or start certifying doctors who want to learn how to practice the way I practiced.

I’m going to write a manifesto about it (think Jerry Maguire. WOOT!). But otherwise, I’m not going to worry about figuring out the “how” right now.

So what’s the baby in the bathtub of medicine?

LOVE. The baby is love. Somehow we’ve lost that in the cold, sterile computerized, technologically- advanced world of modern medicine.

Why do so many people prefer seeing acupuncturists, naturopaths, and shamanic healers when they’re sick?

Love.

Why do my clients adore me?

Because I love them from the bottom of my heart.

How do we practice love, with a side of medicine? I’m not sure.

For now, I’m just going to snuggle that baby I found in the bathwater, kiss her, love her and nurse her while she tells me what she needs.

What about you? Have you found the baby in the bathwater of your life?

Snuggling my baby,

Lissa

PS. A great big thank you to Ophira Edut of the AstroTwins, who challenged me to find the baby in the bathwater and offered me an astrological reading that shifted the tectonic plates of my life and led to this personal and professional breakthrough. Bless you Ophi! I love you, babe!