Category: belief

Enough is as good as a feast

What is enough? It’s an age old question that seems to be having a revival these days. These times of pandemic pandemonium have sent parents and people alike careening towards self-reflection and perhaps more aptly, uncertainty.

While I certainly considered myself to have been wading in those worried waters. I have come out of it on the other side. Because of my good friend Mary Poppins.

Nikola loves Mary Poppins. Watching it no less than 3 times a day while his daycare was closed. Mostly just during the song and dance numbers. During the the toughest weeks of isolation, it was on a constant loop in our house. We have all made deviations from the “plan.” The grandiose visions of healthy daily meal plans, perfectly structured socially distant outings, vision boards of pristine schedules adhered to down to the minute. The invariable feast of almost constant stimulation. All of the things that social media projects that inevitably makes you feel less than when the plan collapses around you. As it almost always does. It doesn’t matter if you have children or not: The above was just an example. This is most everyone these days.

Everyone is dealing with some form of a question in which the repercussions of their answer or choice is unknowable. And while life itself tends to trend similarly – The questions seem bigger now. The impact of our choices seems larger. Looming over us like an ominous storm cloud. A storm we’re not sure we’ll survive.

The question I’m hearing the most from all around me is “is it enough?”

“It” is so many things. To different people. “It” can be:

  • My abilities
  • My patience
  • My concern
  • My time
  • My adaptibily
  • My skill
  • My moral compass
  • My beliefs
  • My faith

I could go on for days, as I’m sure most of you could too.

During this time of isolation, we as humans have gone through periods of trying to provide those around us and ourselves with a feast when “enough” will do. At times draining ourselves dry of energy, clarity, motivation. All of the things we need in order to feel fulfilled. We can’t do that to ourselves. We need to feel good about our day. What we did or chose not to do. Being comfortable with decisions we’ve made, because it was enough. I think we owe it to ourselves to at least try.

And speaking from a parenting perspective: I am absolutely certain that there is no such thing as an “expert” in the realm of parenting. I don’t believe it for a second. All I am sure of is that if you are an active parent who has their child’s well-being at heart than I have no doubt what you’re doing is enough. And I’d be willing to bet that more often than not, it more closely resembles a feast. I hope some people can find comfort in that.

A call to action lends itself to tough conversations

I don’t usually comment on issues such as the ones plaguing our country lately. However, the above image called to me so furiously, I simply have to.

When I watched the video of George Floyd being murdered, my eyes filled with tears. I shook my head, and silently begged for the cop to take his knee of Mr. Floyds neck. Even though I knew the outcome. The headline said it all. But when he cried out “Mama,” my heart imploded. The tears came and didn’t stop. It was my call to action.

I am a white woman from Calais, Maine. The second whitest state in our nation and the 9th whitest city in that state. When I say, I know not of what I speak, that is an understatement. I have no idea how Black people feel right now. I couldn’t begin to fathom. But I do know how I feel. And that feeling compels something in me that I have never experienced with such urgency. I must start speaking up.

I did yesterday. For the first time, with someone I love very much. Someone who I don’t talk about things like this with. Our views differ greatly on most hot button issues. When I called, this person was upset. While it wasn’t about George Floyds death; somehow, the conversation digressed. I remained calm and quiet for a long time. I listened to them go on a diatribe filled with ignorance and hate. And while they were unraveling, I took a moment to plot. Plot the absolute best way to rebuke their sentiments.

Throughout my life I’ve always taken great pride in my ability to connect with people. I don’t know a lot about many things, but I know enough about enough things that I’m able to talk with just about anyone. I’ve always found that speaking to a subject that resonates with someone creates a bond. A lasting connection that will carry through to whatever type of relationship becomes of it. I’ve also found that it may be the best way to have people hear what you’re saying when differences in opinion occur.

So, when they were finished, I told this person that they were one of the most compassionate people I knew. Something I knew they are proud of. But the feelings that they had just expressed didn’t reflect that. I reminded them of the conversation we had the other day about how lucky we were to be born in such a beautiful state. And then I brought them into the present. I said that that when god was handing out straws the day we were born, we drew the long one. We were born white Americans. And if it hadn’t gone in our favor. If we had drawn the short straw. Been born a minority, or in a war-torn country; that I knew they would’ve done whatever it takes for their family to feel safe. To know that they were equal. To not have to live in fear. Things got quiet after that. I don’t know if what I said had an impact. I suspect it did a little. But I do know that I will continue to speak up. To whomever may be challenging me.

With all that being said; the most difficult conversation I had, was the one with myself. Telling myself that it was time to start talking. That being silent and not standing up for what was right was just as bad as the racist population. As I mentioned at the beginning, I don’t talk about these sorts of things often. And that is simply because of ignorance on my part. I worry that the words I use to articulate these thoughts and feelings may not be right or respectful. I do not know any black people well. And I am ashamed of that. If you are a POC and are reading this; I truly welcome any and all feedback. More than anything these events have taught me that I need to educate myself better. Please feel free to reach out to me in any way.

Help or Hindrance? The Enneagram Test

A few years ago, while driving, I came up to an intersection. To my left there were about 10 cop cars, lights swirling and police officers with guns drawn. A man was standing with his hands raised and he was yelling. He said “I have PTSD. Don’t you understand? This is why police are killing so many people, you don’t listen!” It was clearly an intense situation. And in that split second – my first thought was; “I should probably get out to see if I can help”. The thought just washed over me. I couldn’t control it. And thankfully, it went as quickly as it came.

During my lifetime, I have put myself into countless situations I have almost immediately regretted. Because, simply, I can’t help myself. Sometimes my offers of assistance are not well thought out and are more often than not, just instinctual. I want to help. I want to fix it. Whatever it is. And now I know why.

I first heard about the Enneagram Test on the Chelsea Handler podcast “Life will be the death of me.” Her therapist recommended she take it. I’m not one for personality quizzes but the theory behind it sounded interesting. Then, a few days ago when I was checking out some new blogs, there it was again – the test. For it to come up twice in two days was too curious for me to pass up. So, I took it.

The test is a simple one. Its origins date back to the 4th century AD (that’s crazy, eh?) It’s based on the idea that there are 9 basic personality types. The Perfectionist, Helper, Performer, Romantic, Observer, Skeptic, Enthusiast, Challenger, and Mediator. The gives you a series of questions, asking you to rate it mostly true or mostly false. Some questions are easy, and some are more introspective. The real dig-deepers.

You can take the test for yourself HERE

My results are in:

I am Type 2, The Helper – While that sounds like a lovely thing to be; it certainly has its fair (and unflattering) share of “Challenges”. And my god…I have never read anything more accurate.

Type 2 people tend to:

  • Believe that people’s love for them depends on what they do for them and what role they play in their lives
  • Make a huge effort to be an important part of the lives of others
  • Forms social ties easily and enjoys company
  • Will always lend a helping hand
  • Sacrifice himself for others in order to validate self-worth

Type 2 Strengths

  • Caring
  • Helpful
  • Relationship-Oriented
  • Generous
  • Sensitive to others feelings
  • Empathetic
  • Lively

Those are some the nice things. They always start with the nice things.

Type 2 Challenges

  • Won’t communicate needs, expects people to just notice it themselves. And when that doesn’t happen, feels disappointment and resentment.
  • Proud
  • Requires the approval of others
  • Intrusive
  • Demanding
  • Emotional and Hysterical

I have a lot to work on. These are not the personality traits I want to possess. And here’s the kicker: I have had the title of this post saved in my drafts Since January 10th, 2017…. I think, perhaps I’ve always known that this behavior is a problem. And now, I just have the proof.

So, tell me. What is your number? How do you feel about it? Did you think you might be a different number? If so, why?

Premonition or Déjà Vu?

Get out your wellies boys and girls.  This one is gonna get a little deep. 

I believe that most everything happens for a reason.  I think that we are all heading towards a sort of incredibly vague predetermined destiny.  Some people may find that comforting, others perhaps not.  I’m indifferent.  But it does play into this theory of mine quite nicely.

Most people have experienced Deja Vu at some point in their lives.  It’s a fairly common phenomenon. But I seem to have it regularly.  Maybe once or twice every couple of weeks.  Only, I’m not certain that’s what I’d consider it really.  When this experience occurs I dont have the feeling that I have been in that exact space before.  It’s not about space for me.  It is about the lighting, the smells, the sounds, the people, the entire experience in that split second. It’s not something happening “again”. Instead it’s something I had, at some point, dreamt of happening. A premonition. 

When these moments happen, I relish them. I close my eyes and will it to last longer.  This sudden and fleeting sense is what I like to think of as a “checkpoint”.  It’s a little blip in time that confirms I’ve made the right choices.  I’m on the right path. That all my stars are aligning just so. And I find that astoundingly comforting.

I had a “checkpoint” moment yesterday.  I had just gotten home from work.  My baby was in his walker and we were in the kitchen.  He and I have been in those exact spots countless times. But yesterday was different.  The familiar and exciting feeling came over me like a wave. I closed my eyes for a moment. Then looked at my son and smiled.  Believing that you are exactly where you’re supposed to be is one the most gratifying sensations there is.

Stephen King and I

Do you believe in signs?  That things happen for a reason?  And do you believe that every once in a while, the stars can align in such a way that the thought of it all just being a mere coincidence is more preposterous than believing that it was fate?  I do.

I’ve been writing posts for this blog for over two years.  How time flies.  I started this blog soon after a terrible accident my brother was in. One that could’ve had a much different outcome if those stars hadn’t aligned in just such a way.

On October 6th, 2016 my brother, an arborist, was working in a large field with a couple of other crew members.  His foreman had left to empty the dump truck and the other guy was operating the skidder just slightly out of eyesight due to a small hill. My brother, returning from a different task saw the chipper was loaded with brush and started it.  What he didn’t know was that the winch line hadn’t been wound back up before the brush had been set on top of it.  And when he started the machine, the line became untangled from the brush and wrapped around his legs pulling him into the mouth of the chipper.

  • First Star  – My brother was holding onto the emergency reverse lever when he started the machine.
  • Second Star – The sheer force of the line wrapping around him and pulling him was enough to break both femurs, causing extensive damage to his tissue, arteries, and nerves in both legs, just above the knee.   Somehow, not only did he not go unconscious but he managed to untangle the line, climb down from the chipper, and army crawl up the hill to flag down his co-worker on the skidder.
  • Third Star – He had spent some time in the fire service and had medical training. Even with everything going on, he remained calm. He knew that he needed to get his legs elevated so as to slow blood loss. He gave his co-worker clear direction as to what to do.  How and where to put pressure.  And he had his co-worker ask the 911 dispatcher for life-flight.
  • Fourth Star – They were working in a field in the middle of nowhere.  When the call came into the the EMS dispatch, the town paramedics were just around the corner.  They were returning from an earlier call instead of at the station 15 minutes away.
  • Fifth Star – The closest hospital was a small one in the town of Bridgeton. The ambulance had planned to meet Life Flight there.  But when they arrived, the helicopter was still about 10 minutes out. My brother needed blood badly, so they brought him inside. They knew that his injuries were more extensive than the hospital was equipped for, but something was better than nothing.  They wheeled him into a trauma bay and hauled out a special machine.  A while back they had received a grant to get it.  It was for rapid blood transfusions. My brother was the first person to use it. He received 107 units of blood that day.  And just for some perspective, the human body holds between 8-12 units or pints, of blood.  We were told that it could very well be a record.  Most blood given and survived.

As soon as he was fully conscious, people either came to check on him, or he went to meet the people who saved his life. My brother remembered bits and pieces of what happened but as we met the paramedics, firefighters, the life-flight team, the nurses, and doctors from both hospitals – each one added different pieces to puzzle.  A different star, if you will. All of the things that JJ couldn’t remember.  And everyone he met looked at him in astonishment.  Every single one made it clear that they weren’t sure how it was going to end when they left him.  And, inevitably, they all said something along the lines of: “If we hadn’t been around the corner” or “If we hadn’t have gotten that blood machine” and of course, “if you didn’t have your hand on that reverse bar”

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Just before the first anniversary of my brother’s accident I had determined that I wanted to shift the focus of my blog.  But I was worried.  I didn’t really know what I should write about, or if I should continue to write at all.  I really enjoyed it. The act of it and how I felt after each post, but I just didn’t know if what I was doing was good enough. I struggle with a lot of self-doubt.  But, I had written a post in the very beginning about how I didn’t want this blog to be something I quit. A hobby or project I give up on, like so so many that I had in the past.

I wanted to get better at writing before I threw in the towel.  And so, I googled “Best books on learning how to write”, and at the top of every list was “On Writing” by Stephen King.  I was hesitant.  I had never read one of his books.  I don’t care for the horror genre, but I downloaded the audio version and was immediately immersed.  It was witty and thoughtful.  I found myself sitting in the car for 15 minutes or more after I arrived wherever I was heading just to listen.

The book was coming to end and I had learned a lot.  But still was unsure of my blogging future.  I hadn’t posted anything in ages.  With 28 minutes left of the book, I pulled into my driveway.  And as I went to turn off the car I heard something that got my attention.  He was talking about an accident he was in. He was walking in Fryeburg, Maine and was hit by a car.  He was taken to Bridgeton hospital.  The same little hospital the ambulance had taken JJ to meet life-flight. I said “Huh”. Not too weird I guess. But he went on to say he was life-flighted to Central Maine Medical Center. I stared at the radio of my car skeptically. “So had JJ”, I thought.  And as he continued my eyes got wider and wider. When he arrived, his doctor was a man by the name of Dr. Brown.  That was my brother’s doctor. The first of many to perform surgery on JJ.  He’s had 26 in all.  And finally, Stephen King described his injuries, the accompanying surgeries and treatments during his recovery. Between the extensive fasciotomies and the external fixator used to put him back together, the same exact procedures done to my brother. It all left me shock.

Was this a sign? Stars aligning perhaps? I started to blog because of this incredible situation that happened. I needed an outlet; this was my therapy. And when I started doubting my ability and worrying what I was going to write about. When I had come to a possible impasse. I get this book as a last ditch effort to help me find a purpose for this blog and writing in general. And in the final moments of it, Stephen King himself, reiterates the very details surrounding why I started writing in the first place. It felt as if it had come full circle.

Now, I am a fatalist, for better or worse. But I do try to check in with the realist side of myself. To second guess the relevancy of the situation. But in the end, serendipity reigns. And whether this was in fact, stars aligning or if perhaps this turns out to be just a theory of convenience, we’ll never know. And I’m ok with that. So, for now, I’ll keep writing.

Why Lularoe? Why now? My “Why”.

 

When you sign on to be a Lularoe Consultant, they ask you to create your “Why”.  Your reasoning for signing up with the company.  It’s not just about selling clothes, or their amazing leggings.  It could be, they are that good. It’s about so much more.  They are a company who motivate and inspire people to work hard and achieve their goals.  They built their brand with ethical business practices at the forefront,  a unique plan for customer engagement, and a beautiful product. So, this is my “why”.

The Backstory

A few months ago, I started to get bogged down a little.  I felt like I was starting to drown. One morning I was reading the news and came across a story about recurring dreams.  The most common one is where you feel like you’re falling.  I had recently started having this dream almost nightly.  The article said that usually means that you feel like you’ve lost control. And it was right, I had.  There was so much going on at home, with my brother, professionally, financially.  It was overwhelming.  I didn’t feel like any one person or thing or task was getting  100% of what they deserved or needed.   I was keeping a running tally in my head of who I had disappointed.  J.J. wanted to go to the store one night, but the dog was sick so I couldn’t take him.  I told him we’d go the next night.  The next night, something came up with Kruno, and he needed something.  But I had already disappointed J.J. the day before so I couldn’t do that two days in a row to him, so that night I had to disappoint Kruno.  My work suffered, my relationships, my health.  One of the biggest reasons we moved home was because of my health.  I was stressed to the max in Colorado.  I was having migraines almost every day.  I had lost feeling in my left arm and leg, and I had a 1.3 cm cyst in the middle of my brain.  Stress does very strange things to the body.  And some of the same symptoms had started happening again. I had to regain control, prioritize, and just get my shit together in general.

 What I realized

As things started to fall into place, and the stress was subsiding, I started to wonder about these episodes.  They seem to come on during times when I was in, what I consider to be, a mild state of depression.  I was down and out, unhappy, a real negative nancy.  In going along with my New Year post, that simply wasn’t going to do anymore.  I desperately wanted to change.  My outlook. My situation.  In order to do that, I had to do some serious soul-searching.  This is my theory:

I decided to take on a second job…  I know, it sounds crazy.  I’m sure most people would think that taking on additional projects or business ventures would be counterproductive.  Hear me out. While I enjoy my lovely little life.  I am truly blessed in all aspects of it.  There does seem to be something missing. It’s hard to put into words exactly what it is.  It’s lacking a little creativity, a bit of a social aspect, a desire to be in control (to a certain degree) of my future and success. I don’t feel completely fulfilled.  And I really really want to be, or at least know I’m working towards it.  Think of your life as a set of gears.  Lots of them, but all different sizes. Some big some small, remove one and everything after that one, will stop. And the end result will never be realized the way it was meant to be if all the gears were there. And maybe that missing gear is an aspect that you unknowingly long for, and just didn’t realize until now. For me, I think  that gear is something that brings a sense of accomplishment and confidence.  And it only took me 33 years to realize how important these things are both professionally and personally.

The Plan

Kruno and I want to be business owners.  We both have an entrepreneurial spirit.  We want something of our own.  Where we get out exactly what we put in.  We don’t expect to quit our jobs and start a business, have it be a success and make six figures tomorrow. But we wanted something to work towards.  We’ve tossed around business ideas for months.  There was always something that held us up.  Not enough time, or space, but mostly money.  It takes a lot to start a business.  But, what we’ve come to realize recently, is there will, most likely, never be the “right” time or specific conditions, for anything.  And if, by chance there is, you only realize it was perfect after its passed. I think this is true for most everything.  I probably shouldn’t be giving advice so early in the game, but at this point, I say if there’s something you want, or feel like you’re missing in life, get after it! (responsibly, of course)  You want to go on a trip?  Book it.  Want to start a new career?  Make the leap.  Want to adopt a child?  Do it.  I am a firm believer of the “everything happens for a reason” theory.  I think this opportunity came along at exactly the “right” wrong time for us.  It’s a wonderful company with a product I believe in.  I think this will give me the exact gear that I’ve been missing my whole life.   And Kruno and I couldn’t be more excited.

When a flower doesn’t bloom you fix the environment in which it grows, not the flower.                                          – Alexander den Heijer

 

 

These are a few of my biglyest fears….

I’m not one to post about politics, but I’ve had some things on my chest for a while.  All of them are coming to a head. And here seems like as good as place as any to voice them.

The countdown to January 20th continues, and there is no infiltration in sight.  No one is coming to our rescue, no one to deliver us from this evil.  Because, that was our job, the American voters.  We failed, his opponents failed, and like Meryl Streep said “we all lose”.  I was nervous when Bush Jr was elected, even more so for the second term.  And now, I am downright uncomfortable.  I watched his press conference with a knot in my stomach.  I kid you not, nausea is still coming at me in waves.  This may sound dramatic and maybe some day I’ll look back and agree that it is.  But today, I am terrified about what is about to happen.  I know I know, my New Years post was about being a positive Polly.  I’ve fallen off the wagon.  I’ll hop back on as soon as I stop dry heaving thinking about our President Elect.

I have been imagining the possible outcomes. And trying to estimate the probabilities of certain catastrophes happening during the next four years.These are the thoughts that have consumed me since election night.  I work in the finance industry.  When the president-elect makes a derogatory comment about an industry or company, all you can do is sit back and watch. Watch how that stock or sector flails about. While the market is a cycle and goes through ups and downs, the fact that this one idiot and his ignorant opinions, can wreak havoc in so many ways is unsettling to say the least.

Working in the finance industry, I find myself surrounded by men.  Not figuratively, but literally.  My desk is smack dab in the center of the four men I work for.  Throughout the election is was quite clear that some were supporters of the now president-elect.  I can’t count how many times I had to get up and walk away from conversations when it would deviate from the topic at hand to pro-trump bullshit.  Or when they would congregate at MY desk and chit-chat about their choice for president and how great everything was going to be once he was elected.  I may not be the most open-minded person this side of the Mississippi, but….how?  How is this what people think?  What they believe?  This entire election and everything that has come out of it has been just….unfathomable.

So, as the title of this post said.  These are a few of my biglyest fears:

  • Advancements in Equality (all types) will be set back, potentially decades.  That’s worst case scenario.  Best case – is just comes to a screeching halt. We can’t reasonably expect the man who said that a judge couldn’t make a fair ruling because “He’s a Mexican” to truly grasp or believe in the idea of equality.  Or when doing an interview for New York Magazine and referring to the treatment of women said “You have to treat ’em like shit”.  I mean…C’mon.
  • The possibility that the last 8 years will be undone.  When you think about all of the things President Obama and his administration worked so hard for, and that some could potentially be for nothing in a mere 9 days. My god, I feel defeated. And I don’t really have any skin in the game!
  • Immigration.  My husband is from Macedonia and his family is still there.  When we learned that Trump was running for president my husbands first reaction was “I need to become a citizen”.  And he was absolutely right.  But now, questions arise.  Will his mother and father be allowed to visit?  What type of restrictions will be placed, if any?
  • Terrorist attacks, specifically on U.S. soil.  Donald Trump is a joke.  The entire world and it’s leaders know it.  Especially the leaders who aren’t our friends.  I think we have opened ourselves up to be an even bigger target than we already were.  I didn’t think that was actually possible.  But apparently, I was mistaken.
  • My biggest fear of all is for my nephew.  Who, by the way is an avid Trump supporter.  Bumper stickers and everything.  He is in the military.  The president elect’s temperament doesn’t seem to shake him though. But it shakes me to my core.  The thought of him being at the mercy of an overly sensitive, trigger happy, spiteful awful excuse for a human is gut wrenching.  I worry everyday about the probability of him being shipped overseas.  I have nightmares about it. I worry that someday I will get a call from my sister,  and it will be her telling me that my Joshy has been called for deployment.  Please don’t get me wrong. Serving in the military is one of the most selfless things a person can do.  I admire and respect every single service member.  It’s the thought of someone, who dodged several drafts, playing fast and loose with my loved ones life that upsets me.

While President Obama has repeatedly asked that we, as a nation maintain an open mind.  Be optimistic, welcome the new president just as President Bush did for him. I’ve tried and I can’t.  Not honestly anyway.  I can put on a fake smile for a person or family member who wants to sing Trump’s praises in my presence. But, my poker face isn’t that convincing.  They have to see through it, and if they don’t, they are just as oblivious as Trump himself.   I think the only sound advice at this moment is something I’ve written about before.  More than ever, we’ll need to prepare for the worst and hope for the best.

 

 

 

 

 

Going To The Mattresses

 

 

 

I’ve never seen “The Godfather”. But, I have seen “You’ve Got Mail”. Many, many times. In the movie, Meg Ryan’s character, Kathleen, is at odds with a big businessman named Joe Fox, whose company is about to put her’s under.  Unbeknownst to the both of them, they are each other’s secret online love interests.  Joe Fox, played by Tom Hanks replies with the following message to Kathleen when she asked him for business advice:

“Go to the mattresses. You’re at war. It’s not personal, it’s business. It’s not personal its business. Recite that to yourself every time you feel you’re losing your nerve. I know you worry about being brave, this is your chance. Fight. Fight to the death!”

This post was a tricky one to write.  There are so many variations of what it means to fight.  You can fight for an injustice, for someone’s well-being, or for something you believe in. My family has been tackling some of those lately.

My first lesson about “Going to the Mattresses”

For my entire life, I have been terrible at all sports. Awful. I have no business being on any sort of field or court in a competitive setting.  However, in 7th grade, I signed up to play on our middle school soccer team.  Every sport I had played leading up to this, I had been coached by my dad or his friends at the rec department.  That wasn’t the case this time.

During one match, our team was winning 7-0 and we were in the final minutes of the game.  The coach called my name for the first time that day and put me in as fullback.  The whistle blew and an opposing wing came at me with the ball.  I managed to take it away and kick it in the opposite direction.  A few seconds later the whistle blew again and I had been replaced.  As I came off the field I saw my dad get out of the car and start walking towards our sideline.  I thought “he’s probably coming to tell me what a great job I did, kicking that ball away.” I was mistaken.

“Darci! Get your shit, we’re going home!” I stopped in my tracks, shocked.  He didn’t stop there though.  He then turned to the coach.  “Hey!  You’ve got an awful lot to learn about coaching!” he said.  “You’re up 7-0, and you can’t leave her in there for more than 30 seconds?  You’ve been playing your first string the entire game!”

That was the end of my soccer career.  I was so embarrassed.  I remember crying and dreading going to school the next day.  We are from a very small town where everyone knows everyone.  I knew kids and their parents would be talking about it. Later on that night, dad came to have a talk with me about what had happened.  I believe this was after he had had a phone call with my former coach.  While I don’t remember his exact words, the moral of the story was “That wasn’t right.  That’s not how to be a good coach.  And she needed to know how I felt” My dad lacks subtlety, at times.  It’s a blessing and a curse.  But, I’ll never forget that day and the lesson I learned. He fought for what he believed.  It’s a story I tell often.

 

Our family has fought our share battles recently. All of the varying levels of intensity and for different reasons. Some have been fought as a group and some have been taken on singularly, and even internally.

My mom, for example, has fought for my step-dad every day since September 1st.  He was in a car accident and has been in the hospital since then.  Most of the time he hasn’t been fully awake.  She has fought for an adequate level of care. She has fought to keep him alive, more than I believe the doctors have since the first days after the accident.   She has been at the hospital (with the exception of when my brothers’ accident happened) every day she could since the beginning.  My mom with her vigilante style bedside monitoring, and her demand for answers.  She’s fought real hard.   He woke up last week, and I got a phone call from him. He said, “What’s going on, kid?”  That’s always how he started a phone call with me. It was probably the most amazing phone call I’ve ever gotten in my life.  Unfortunately, he did have a bump in his recovery road a couple of days after that phone call.  But, he’s still here.  He’s still fighting.

Today is the 3-month mark since JJ’s accident.  There is no way for anyone to really understand what he must battle with every day.  There’s no way to measure how much he has to fight on a daily basis.  Even in his first days in the hospital, the doctors and nurses all talked about how tenacious he was.  How much strength and determination he had.  And all that was said before he was able to talk.  My family knew he had all that in him.  But I never truly noticed the degree of it until then.  When he would insist on doing things himself when he had 6 very willing family members in his room to help.  When he would surpass every expectation the doctors had set.  Stand with almost full weight on a leg that he doesn’t have full feeling in.  And most recently, when he was told he wouldn’t be on a snowmobile this year.  He showed them all just how much fight he had in him.

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Just from a personal standpoint, my brothers fight aside.  This is what I’ve learned in the last 3 months:  Fighting is hard.  It is exhausting and often tear-inducing.  And because of the recent uptick of occurrences in which going to battle is required, I’ve had to pick them more carefully.

My brother is home from the hospital.  And everyone in the family is ecstatic. We have been looking forward to this for three months.  We knew that the transition would be tough, but I was totally unprepared for how tough it would be at the beginning.  In one week alone, I have cried at 2 different pharmacies trying to pick up my brother’s prescriptions because of issues related to billing.  I’m sure I looked like a lunatic.  And then, inevitably feel immediately embarrassed and start pleading my case as to why I’m not a lunatic and then probably look like even more of a lunatic then I did at the beginning. It’s a vicious cycle.  Anyway, One of the battles we’ve taken on is making the house handicap accessible.  We have been begging for 2 months for someone to come in an access our house.  Get it set up for him so when he got home, he’d be able to be mostly independent.  We were met with every stall tactic and excuse they had.  And I, having never navigated through anything like this before, fell for it.  At this point, there are 5 or 6 different people or companies involved in this.  The caseworker, the caseworkers assistant, the insurance company, the contractor, subcontractor,  and as of today the owner of a very large home modification company.  Everyone is pointing the finger at the other as to why this is taking so long.  I make multiple phone calls a day trying to figure it out but usually end up more confused than I was at the beginning.  Today, I made an extra phone call.  To a lawyer.  As this process goes along, I’m seeing that sometimes you can’t fight your battles alone. And I need help fighting this one.  There won’t be many more niceties.  It’s not personal.  It’s business.

I have yet to find a manual or script anywhere to offer me any guidance on how to fight. The desire alone, to fight, comes from within.  It’s propelled by a person’s heart, gut instinct, and moral compass. And not very often, do those 3 things combined steer you wrong.

 

“If you’re feeling froggy, go ahead and leap” – Butch Hanson

 

 

 

 

Superstition ain’t the way. Or is it?

I’m superstitious. I can’t help myself. As I get older it seems to be getting worse. The other day it  was raining pretty hard and a co-worker asked to use my umbrella.  This co-worker has been known to leave an umbrella open inside to let it dry. I don’t approve and have voiced that opinion. He tries to appeal to the logic of it, and I won’t have it. Anyway, I was nervous about him using it. It was a surgery day for my brother.  I watched the door for him to come back in. He came back with it closed and I breathed a sigh of relief. He brought it back to my desk, and I forget exactly how it played out but I thought he was going to open it to dry. I just about came out of my skin. I yelled at him a little bit. “Are you crazy?!?  JJ is in surgery! Don’t you dare open that in here!” Did I overreact? Possibly. JJ’s procedure went fine. Had the umbrella been opened indoors, would it have changed anything? Who knows… I do. Of course it wouldn’t have. But my feeling is generally – let’s not take any chances.
And when it comes to the NFL season, it is even more prevalent.  I’m a Cincinnati Bengals fan. There, I said it. I love ’em. Can’t get enough of Marvin Lewis and the whole gang. I have done the organization a great disservice this season. You see,  I have drank coffee out of the same bengals mug every Saturday since my husband bought it for me 4 seasons ago (side note, the bengals season has gotten better since then) A few weeks ago, when the accident happened it really screwed up my coffee drinking schedule. I wasn’t able to drink out of the mug for a few Saturdays, resulting in a couple of loss’s. So, to the entire Bengals organization. I’m sorry.

I also wear bengals attire on Sunday’s. but, weeks like this pose a dilemma. The Bengals play on Monday night. What’s a super superstitious gal to do?  I went with my gut. I drank out of the mug yesterday, wearing a bengals t-shirt today and will wear my jersey tomorrow.  It’s the only logical thing to do.
“Logic will get you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere” – Albert Einstein.

Follow The Yellow Brick Road

It’s been a month.  One month today since the accident.

When I got the call that my brother had been in an accident.  I immediately left for the hospital.   It was the simultaneously the slowest and quickest drive there has ever been.  I arrived, and found my way to the ICU floor.  I was met by 2 nurses, later they said they knew who I was by the look on my face.  They sat me down and explained the situation.  It was bad, labeled as critical and life flight was used.  I excused myself and waited for other family members to arrive.  Later on, while at the ICU door waiting to get buzzed in, someone came up next to me.  They had a loved one that had been in the ICU for a few days.  I was looking down at the floor and then I heard them say “The floor here reminds me of the yellow brick road.  Ya know, from the ‘Wizard of Oz?'” That’s my favorite movie.  From that moment on, I thought about the similarities between the movie and the situation that we were in.

I was the Scarecrow.  Asking for a brain to figure everything out.  Trying to learn the medical terms, which monitors meant what, blood pressures, oxygenation, medications.

I was the Lion. Asking for courage.  Courage to be strong when others couldn’t be.  Courage to help my brother with the unknown.  Courage to believe that everything is going to be just fine.

I was not the Tin Man. My favorite quote from the movie is “hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable”  My heart has felt more this past month than perhaps my whole life combined.  It has been broken, mended,  but mostly filled will love and gratitude.

And then there’s my brother, J.J..  Unfortunately for him, he is a girl in this analogy.  He’s Dorothy.  Wanting desperately to find his way home.  He’ll be there soon.

“You’ve always had the power my dear, you just had to learn it for yourself”