The Waiting Room

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Yesterday morning, I helped my husband slide his wedding band off his finger and I slipped it onto my left thumb for safekeeping. I gave him one last kiss before he was wheeled down the hall and out my reach. It was a simple surgery. Brief. Yet my hand trembled as it placed his belongings in a locker and secured them with the twist of a key. A tear made its way down my cheek when I slapped my fist against the plate to open the door to the waiting room.

The waiting room.

The stone-trimmed walls and bistro complete with a Starbucks put a cheery spin on what it really was – a powerless limbo. A place where the minutes ticking by water the fears. The uncertainties growing taller while the rational mind hold hands with the worries and mutters platitudes interspersed with statistics and chances.

I kept glancing at his ring on my thumb, the sight both comforting and alarming. For some reason, it felt wrong to send him off without it, as though it was some talisman against trouble. I hoped it proved effective when worn on my hand as well.

photo-11

I tried to occupy myself with people watching, filling in the stories of their lives. I listened to a college age girl talking to her grandmother. The younger one had faced years of surgeries and was losing her sight. Her words spoke of wisdom and acceptance beyond her years. I saw another woman sign in for surgery, unsure who was going to pick her up or who to call with reports on her progress. I felt sad for her and wished I could provide comfort. I saw two women in their 60s who take turns nursing each other through the ailments of advancing age. The one facing surgery that day seemed matter of fact about the ordeal.

But mostly, I saw people like me. People who were waiting for the call that their loved one fell on the right side of the statistics and awoke from anesthesia without complications. People who felt powerless and impotent while their loved one was kept away. People who tried to hide their unease with small talk and pinched smiles, while distracting themselves from the wait.

It took me a moment to realize that the receptionist was talking to me. She had called out my husband’s last name. The name I never assumed.

She ushered me into a private room, “The doctor would like to come speak with you.”

I fervently swatted away the fear that swarmed my brain at being taken into a private room. I assured myself that the timing was perfect for the surgery to have concluded without error. And the news was good. I even laughed with the doctor as we talked about martial arts and the traits of those who practice.

And the wait continued as he was sewn up and prompted to breath again on his own. I had just settled into a book when my phone trilled an incoming call.

“Hello?”

“Is this Lisa? I’m the nurse who’s taking care of your husband. I just had to give you a call. Just as he was waking up, his first words were, ‘I love my wife so much. We’re two peas in a pod.'”

The smile that swept my face that time wasn’t pinched by fear. It was carried wide by relief.

It’s funny, those words, “I love you,” have meant less to me after my first husband could say them and yet not mean them. Those words yesterday, the first uttered after unconsciousness, meant something. No, not something. Everything.

Half an hour later, my alarm buzzed, messaging me that I could go back and see him.

I kissed his lips, stained with blood from the intubation, and slid his ring back where it belonged.

The wait was over.

Past Perspectives

Posted on by stilllearning2b

My husband recently had someone from his past get in touch with him after 20 years. The results have been interesting. It’s made my husband reflect back upon a time in his life where he normally doesn’t trek along memory lane. I’ve enjoyed listening to the stories of the experiences that helped to turn the Brock of then into the Brock I know.

With my ex, I knew those formative experiences. Hell, I was there for many of them. With Brock, I only know what he tells me. And, as we all do, the stories are filtered through the lens of now. Current knowledge and position making sense of the past.

But sometimes those memories are called into question.

From his perspective, that was a time when he was still young and stupid. He possessed big goals and was starting to make the first steps into making them happen, but was still full of more questions than certainty. And many of the tales I’ve heard certainly back that up:)

But the person who contacted him saw him differently – a man who was confident. A leader. Someone who would be successful.

And it’s interesting to watch Brock assimilate that perspective into the one that he has of himself at that age.

It’s so true that we form narratives of ourselves. We craft our stories from within our own minds, perhaps more aware of the fears and the doubts rather than the actions that others witness. Often, others see the strength in us when we focus on our weakness.

What we perceive and what comes through to the outside world can vary greatly. It’s not unlike the shifting view of the world when closing one eye at a time. And the truest picture of ourselves comes when we see with both eyes, our own and those around us.

 

Vantage Point

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Let me state right up front that I am not a parent. Apart from living with an infant for a year, I have not resided with a child. I have never experienced the fear that grips when you lose sight of your child in a park. I have never felt the aching pull when you have to be at work and your child is ill. I have never felt the overwhelming joy when your child takes his first step or reads her first book.

But that’s not to say I’m ignorant of parenting. I’ve spent the past thirteen years teaching 13 and 14 year olds. It’s a pivotal point in their lives; this is when they are starting to apply the lessons they learned in childhood. They are beginning to separate from their parents and take their first tentative steps into the bigger world. And it’s an interesting vantage point.

There are aspects of parenting I will never understand or appreciate. I have the utmost respect for those who parent selflessly. It’s a difficult job.

And it’s one that I often see people approach as though they’re afraid they will be terminated.

But the thing about parenting is that, if you do it well, you will lose the job.

That’s the point.

The goal of parenting should not be to be the parent possible or even to create the best kids possible.

It’s to raise the best adults possible.

It’s a blend of accepting the realities of the moment (terrible twos anyone?) yet always keeping in mind the intended outcomes. It’s about being the parent that your child needs, not the parent you would prefer to be (or the parent your parent was).

Based on my observations on the thousands of teenagers that have crossed my path over the years, these are the most important lessons to give your children:

Perseverance

Let your child fail but don’t let them internalize failure. Let them see you struggle and let them see what you gain when you do. Teach them that everything worthwhile in life requires effort. Discourage the use of the words, “I can’t.” Encourage them. Celebrate success but also celebrate attempts. Especially repeated ones. Remind them of skills they now take for granted that took tenacity to develop. Teach them the difference between quitting and letting go. Give them love but make them earn respect. If you give them everything, they become like a lion in a zoo. Unable to hunt on their own.

Empathy

Expose your child to the larger world. Do not attempt to hide all suffering. Suffering is part of life. Teach your child to respect and honor it. Model empathy. Use stories in books and movies as an opportunity to have them express what a character is feeling. Give them an opportunity to care for another. Even if it’s just a fish.

Integrity

Be careful what you model; they will do as you do, not what you say. Reward honesty. Discuss implications of dishonesty, both personal and societal. When they call you out when your actions do not match your words (this WILL happen), admit it. And then fix it.

Responsibility

Teach them that their response is always a choice. Nobody can make them feel or act a certain way. Discuss consequences of choices and then let them happen. A consequence must be felt to be effective. Don’t intervene in every situation. There will come a time when you can’t and your child needs to learn how to fight for himself.

Humility

Teach them that if they think they know everything, they will learn nothing. “I don’t know” is a starting point, not a conclusion. Let them see you learn. Show that you are human. And fallible. And teach them that they are too.

Gratitude

Have them create gratitude lists, whether through bedtime prayers or in a journal. Highlight the positives. Teach them that whatever they nurture will grow and help them grow life’s flowers. Don’t just tell them they have it good; show them. Gratitude is a powerful tool; help them learn to wield it.

It’s easy to get caught up in the thousands of details that fill each day as a parent. But in the end, the lessons above are the ones that really matter. Teach those and you will put yourself out of a job. And this is one job you want to lose.

Because the severance package is pretty awesome.

Love Bites

Posted on by stilllearning2b

When we are in the heady, passion and potential-fueled early days of a relationship, contact is frequent. Almost constant. Your new partner is always on your mind, providing jolts of neurotransmitter bliss. That rush comes from the novelty of the experience; each encounter or imagined encounter is novel and exciting. That high of new passion has an expiration date; as the novelty fades and realism seeps in, the jolts are no longer as powerful or as frequent.

There’s a trade-off, of course. Lust may not be as powerful but trust is built. The excitement of the unknown is replaced with the security and comfort of connection. One of the balances acts in any long term relationship is how to maintain the passion within the context of commitment and stability.

The trick is that anything new or exciting injects the same into the relationship. Routine is critical for life yet deadly for relationships. So shake it up. Add some mystery or surprise. It doesn’t have to be grand. Or expensive. Or time consuming.

An adventure trip is awesome.

But so are love bites.

Love bites are simply little gestures that let your partner know that he or she is on your mind. It’s best if they’re random. The surprise is important. Serious is fine and silly is awesome. It can be a language understood by all or one only shared between the two of you. They can be notes, or texts or drawings.

Brock and I created a new one earlier this spring. I bought some silly gel clings for Valentine’s Day that spelled out, “I love you” and “U rock” on the fridge, along with an assortment of sticky hearts and even a gel electric guitar. That evening, Brock removed one of the hearts and hid it in my shower. I removed another and placed it on his mirror. This game has continued, with hearts appearing in strange locations around the house. I even lifted my toilet lid the other day to find one on the seat! Even though we somewhat expect them, the location and timing is always a surprise. It’s fun on both ends and a wonderful way to exchange love bites during a busy week.

photo-7

For the giver, a love bite is a momentary reminder of the gratitude for the partner and the relationship. For the recipient, a love bite is a rush. A smile. A wonderful feeling of being acknowledged and loved. It’s oxytocin on one end and dopamine on the other. And the brain doesn’t know that it’s coming from a little love bite. It just knows it feels good.

 

 

 

Bone to Chew On

Posted on by stilllearning2b

There are days when Tiger needs a bone to chew on. Maybe he’s stressed because of some change in his environment. Maybe he needs to bleed excess energy because the weather hasn’t been conducive to walks or runs. Or, maybe he’s just bored and looking for something to do.

Regardless, he’ll get this certain look in his eye. There’s an intensity to it. A drive. A need. It’s like he’s saying, “Give me the chewy and no one gets hurt. If you chose not to supply the bone…”

photo-4

We’re really no different than Tiger.

We all require bones to chew on. Not real ones (I hope), but cerebral ones. Something that we can use to focus our mental energies upon. A passion or a problem that needs to be chewed on and whittled down. Something to turn to when we’re stressed or have excess energy to bleed or simply bored.

It’s best to have a whole box of bones available in case some run out or don’t taste right in the moment.

Because the thing about mental bones, is that if you don’t choose one, one may be chosen for you. And it may not be the one you want.

I have never felt this so acutely than I did in the months after my ex left. Before that point, gardening had been one of my favorite bones. It was relaxing and the mental selection and placement of plants could focus and calm my mind. But that bone was taken away when I had to leave my house and my garden. And because I didn’t have another at the ready, that passion was replaced with my ex and the details of the divorce.

I would worry away the details, chew on the possibilities and fixate on the loss.

It kept me focused and bled the excess energy, but it was not the bone I needed.

My first new bone after the divorce came as a bit of a surprise. I signed up for Match.com as a way to practice dating before commencing my planned move to Seattle. It turns out that online dating works pretty well for something to focus on. I went on countless dates and engaged in many more electronic flirtations. It wasn’t sustainable or healthy for the long run, but it allowed me to bury the bone of the divorce.

My next bone was more deliberate and wholesome. I started writing. This not only gave my mind a positive area on which to focus, it also served as a healing process of its own. As my life began to expand and settle once again, I continued to gather bones: blogging, racing and recently, gardening again.

How is your supply of cerebral chewies? Do you have a supply of positive ones or you gnawing on one that is harmful to your health? If you need one, ask Tiger. Maybe he’ll share:)

photo-5