I started fainting in third grade. At Catholic grade school we attended Mass every day during Lent. I could handle the standing, but far too often the kneeling got the best of me, and I toppled over, sometimes hitting my head on the pew, and sometimes just sliding or plopping onto the floor. The first few times, the dear Sisters were worried, but I never got hurt, so after a while, everyone just left me alone. I’d wake up in a few minutes, sit slowly to get my bearings, then participate in the rest of the Mass service.

As I got older, the fainting spells continued, not only from standing and kneeling but from fatigue and anxiety or even the sight of blood. I learned to recognize the signs of impending unconsciousness and was often able to lower myself to the ground quickly enough to prevent loud crashes. It didn’t always work though, and for a kid who wanted to be a doctor, it presented challenges.  My dad said, “You can do anything you set your mind to.”

One day, in high school drivers education class, we watched gory scenes from a head-on car crash. As soon as I saw the first sign of blood, I knew what was happening but I misjudged the distance to the girl’s bathroom. I made it out of the classroom, but hit the water fountain in the hall as I fainted. Unfortunately, I hit with enough force that I dislodged the whole unit form the wall. I woke to find myself in a small lake as the spraying fountain flooded the whole hall.

“That’s OK,” my dad said. “You can do anything you set your mind to.”

Determined and hopeful that he was right, I went to medical school. In our second year we started rotations in various medical disciplines, essentially becoming part of the team in that specialty for a month. I was nervous about the surgery rotation- blood and prolonged standing – and didn’t sleep well the night before my first day. You guessed it: I didn’t even make it to the operating room before I fainted. I woke up in the hospital’s emergency room and the surgical team came to meet me after they finished the first case. I met the attending surgeon for the very first time from my stretched in the ER.

“That’s OK,” my dad said. “You can still do anything you set your mind to.”

I got even better at avoiding triggers in residency, but there were still unforeseen and unfortunate incidents. One was during my first solo baby delivery. By solo, I mean no other doctors present. Fortunately the nurses were there, and their years of experience made them more knowledgeable and skilled than most residents anyway, which  was very good thing on that particular night. At 3 am, as the baby’s head popped out into my waiting hands, exhaustion and blood got the best of me, and down I went. A quick-thinking nurse grabbed the sweet baby’s head while another rolled me out of the way. Meanwhile the confused mother started screaming with fear because she thought I fainted in response to some hideous deformity in her child.

“Still OK,” my dad said. “You can do anything you set your mind to.”

Looking back, it seems miraculous that I eventually became a doctor, but my dad was right. I adapted and persisted, and even now I know need to sit down if I am taking care of a patient’s nosebleed, and I need to be very careful to get plenty of sleep. But persistence wasn’t the only component that got me though. Humility also helped. I had to accept my imperfection and quit trying to hide it or explain it away with made- up excuses. Every boss or attending in my career knew about my propensity to faint, not necessarily because they saw it happen but because I started telling everyone about it ahead of time. I quit trying to hide it and gave up being embarrassed by it. How freeing that was!

We are not defined by our weakness. I am not a perfect person, doctor, wife or mother. Not a single one of us is perfect, and hiding our inadequacies is exhausting. It’s not even necessary, because the One who matters most already knows them and loves us anyway. So friends, be yourself. That’s who God loves.