My Mother's Resilience

I brought "Lamby" in hopes
it would cheer her up

When I wrote about my mom's series of stroke episodes last spring, I was certain we were going to lose her. That prospect made me terribly, terribly sad. There is no other way to describe it, really. The very thought of losing my mom at any minute was just too much for me to bear, and I found myself walking around numb.  I was finally witnessing what countless older people meant when they'd warned me that no matter how old you are, it's never easy losing your mom or dad. 

Of course, I knew that, at age 44, I'd been very fortunate that my mom had witnessed so many of my milestones while growing up. She had even seen my little ones grow into not-so-little ones, which many adult children, unfortunately, can't experience. But even knowing how lucky I should've felt didn't seem to comfort me or prevent my heart from breaking.

If I told you all of the medical events my mom endured during a short period of time, you wouldn't believe me. You'd insist that one person could never have withstood the impact of so much adversity. But, as I said, I am fortunate in so many ways. Not only did I grow up with a mother who loved and cherished me, she is also a fighter. In fact, she is still with us as I write this post, and is doing quite well.

Our Christmas gift: Mom came home!

In addition to Mom's perseverance, Dad's diligent caregiving has been a critical factor in her recovery. The assisted living facility where she spent months in rehabilitation told us that my mom was the hardest working resident and my dad was the most doting spouse. This daughter was quite proud to hear that!

It's been a very arduous, painful journey of recovery for Mom since last spring, since in the beginning she couldn't even sit up on her own, much less stand. Now she is walking really well with a walker- and is working on using a cane. Her speech was also practically non-existent and we didn't think she'd ever be able to have a conversation again. But now we talk on the phone all the time.

Our November visit.
My dad has been a champion caregiver. No easy feat!

Who knew during those harrowing days last spring that my family and I would be able to fly out in November and watch Dee Dee (the kids' name for her) celebrate her 71st birthday- in a restaurant, no less!

Despite a strict post-stroke diet that she sticks to like a champ,
Dee Dee had a little piece of birthday cake.

My mom is slowly getting back to the things she loved to do, such as making cards.
When the strokes hit, we thought that was a thing of the past, especially since she lost movement in her dominant right side. But guess who sent us homemade Valentine's Day cards?!

Surprise!

Thanks to my my mom's persistence and dad's diligent care I've had what I call "bonus time"- time that I didn't think I'd have just a few months ago. Now I can't say "I love you" enough to either of them.

A parent's resilience is, simply put, beautiful. And the best gift a child- grown-up or not- can ask for.

A New (and Better) Dream

A moving story about the importance of allowing your dreams to evolve and change: Joe Sharkey and The Sneaker Wars

The Fine Art of Messing Up

We all make mistakes. 

And while these blunders may challenge and vex us, let's face it: most of the time mistakes are anything but fatal. In fact, chances are they'll bring something even better into our lives.

So what if we viewed our mistakes in a beneficial, rather than a destructive, light? What would happen? I offer up a few possibilities:

*Career mess-ups could be viewed as valuable career experiences.

*Receiving criticism could help us figure out how to put our strengths to better use.

*Misjudging the competition might guide us to a more lucrative playing field.

*Dreams we can't seem to fulfill could make way for even bigger, better ones.

It's our choice: we can constantly regret missteps and see them as failures, or we can accept- maybe even embrace- the crazy turns and decisions we've made in the past and treat them as navigational devices for the future. In this new light, the pain and scars acquired along the journey transform into badges of honor, rather than embarrassments to hide out of shame.

We are not perfect, so how can we expect each choice we make to be perfect?

There is a centuries-old Japanese art form, Kintsugi, that celebrates mistakes and imperfections- particularly in the form of cracks and fissures- and sees them as things of beauty and meaning. I find the art form, which is distinctly aligned with Zen philosophy, to be a fantastic metaphor for creating your own unique path.

This fun video illustrates the history and process of Kintsugi, as well as it's celebration of the imperfect. Check it out  here.

Enjoy!

-Katie

The Benefits of Growing Older

Thought I'd share with you a lovely, nuanced study that I find quite inspiring. "Wisdom of the Aged"

Enjoy!

-Katie

Do You Have Something to Say ... or Prove?

I used to have something to prove.

Now I have something to say.

I'd like to think of this transformation as a sign of maturity rather than evidence that I need to make more noise in the world.

(The jury's still out on that one.)

A surprising number of young people (yours truly included, many years ago) choose career paths based on something they want to prove.  Maybe their choice, they believe, will rectify feelings of inadequacy or uncertainty growing up.  They insist on proving to parents, a teacher, coach or classmates- or even to themselves- that they can either:

1) do what everyone expected them to do.
2) do what everyone said they couldn't do or

When any person decides to go down a career path solely for the sake of proving something, the path will eventually start to crumble. No matter who the person is trying to impress or refute, the same possible pitfalls occur.  I can think of hundreds of reasons clients come to me unhappy with their current college major or career path.  Recognize any of these all-too-common tales?


The Lawyer-to-Be Who's Just Not Feeling It

"I majored in history in college, which Mom and Dad said was really good for law school.  And they thought being a lawyer would be ideal for me because I was a good student and liked to read.  So, not really knowing what I wanted to do with my life, I went to law school.  I figured it would at least give me some options.  But now I have spent three years and thousands of dollars studying something I really don't care about nor am I really that good at. At the same time, I feel I have to prove to myself and to everyone else that the time and money spent in law school was somehow worth it."

The Artist

"My parents and most of their friends always thought "artistic types" were flakes and that going into a creative field was impractical. So, being a rebel, I was bound and determined to prove them wrong.  I majored in acting, which I enjoyed; however, now that I'm a working actor I'm finding I really don't like it at all.  I hate to quit because that will just prove them right.  But I don't want to be miserable for the rest of my life either!"

The Investment Banker

"My family was really poor growing up and I vowed never to be poor myself when I became an adult.  I went to a great university and majored in finance because I thought investment banking would be a sure bet. However, as an investment banker I'm finding I just don't have "it." (Whatever "it" is.)  I know I'm being passed up for better positions... and it's just killing my confidence.  I feel as if I'll never be able to be what I thought I would prove to myself I could be someday:  wealthy."

Why does the "proving oneself" methodology eventually lead to a dead end?  Because this form of motivation is mainly focused on the self, others' perceptions of you (real or imagined) and past or present relationships, rather than the career path itself. Not only can it not sustain you over the long run, it's also based mainly on feelings, rather than on more objective factors such as aptitude and the appropriate fit of a career path.

Does this mean that you should stay away from ANY input from parents or siblings or other influencers? Absolutely not! People close to you often have some extremely useful insights; after all, they know you really, really well and, if they're being truly objective, they can help you see what your strengths are. Friends, family members, teachers and coaches can give you some really great hints as to what you would be good at doing.

But you alone have the final, awesome task of deciphering which clues are useful for career decisions, and which are just good insights into part of the whole picture that is you. Friends, teachers and family members can't put themselves in your shoes, even if they happen to be in the job you are interested in pursuing!  That perfect/fantastic/brilliant job of someone else's dreams might just be a big old dead end for you. Furthermore, no one but you will be paying for your grad school loans (unless you are super lucky), or hitting the snooze button on the alarm clock when you absolutely dread going to work at a so called "great" job that someone recommended.

So why not take the time to explore what you really want in a career? Ask yourself, what do you care about? What fields you have a desire to contribute to? What ideas do you need to share? Explore where you think you can make a difference, given your talents and strengths and interests. And, most importantly, discover what you want to communicate to others through your work.

I can assure you, as can thousands of other adults who've learned the hard way, that it's well worth taking the time to discover what you have to say. It's a much more exciting and purposeful endeavor than than the tiresome act of constantly trying to prove yourself.

It Takes Courage

Doing what everyone expects of you is easy.
It takes courage to question their expectations.

Living vicariously through others is a breeze. 
It takes courage to discover and pursue what you yourself want.

Taking a typical, formulaic route in life is fairly painless. 
It takes courage to cross into uncharted territory.


Avoiding failure is always preferable. 
It takes courage to face failure head on.

Doing what you think you should do with your life is fairly simple. 
It takes courage to do what you need to do.  

Getting rich at the expense of others is easy.
It takes courage to share your wealth in order to enhance others.


Following someone else's path in life is predictable.

It takes courage to improvise your own.

When Laughter Doesn't Come

On most days I can find many reasons to laugh. Whether it's a funny comment from one of my kids, the seemingly endless antics of my dog, Cloey Margaret, a witty email or a fun Facebook video, (Pugs that waterski! Beagles that steal chicken nuggets from toaster ovens! Golden Retrievers with insatiable appetites!) I find myself smiling and shaking my head at the laughable absurdities that are part of this human's experience. If something is just a little bit bothersome, I’m often able to diffuse my frustration and instead appreciate the humor of the situation.

But then there are the days when humor is harder to access, when problems are big and scary. You probably know what I'm talking about: those days when you feel as if you're drowning in disasters and laughing is pretty much out of the question. Your mind is packed to the gills with the nasty complexities of life, whether it be rejection, poor health (yours or someone else’s), difficult decisions, distressing conversations and/or life situations that seem to have no answers, despite the fact that YOU NEED ANSWERS!

You've also probably found fear, confusion and sadness to be lousy conductors of laughter, particularly while in the throes of these awful feelings. But here's a thought I've been kicking around during my own bouts of distress: I'm starting to believe that taking short break from humor is a good thing.

How else do we stop and feel what we really need to feel? Laughter can serve as fantastic medicine, sure. But I suspect there are moments and days when the luxury of laughter is not ours to possess. There are instances when we have to face mental pain because laughing it off and shutting it out can be a terrible habit to get into. 

Despite our social need to keep up jovial appearances, there’s no shame in feeling sadness and admitting that there are some really, seriously rotten things that happen to us and to those around us, despite our best efforts to prevent them. And they're far from amusing.

But once we feel pain I've noticed that good things can start to happen. We ask for help. We step in. We're able to empathize with others and relate to what they are going through. The mind that’s so numbed to pain can hardly acknowledge and alleviate the pain of others.

So while a humorless life would prove wholly unbearable, having moments or even a day when we allow ourselves to soak in the gravity of the situation keeps our compassion in check. If we're honest with ourselves about how we feel, we can let down our guard and humor will slip in when you least expect it. 

In true, comic timing fashion.