Photo by Jamie Street

When all seems wrong in your life, speak into the universe all that is right! As I close out 2017, I am forcing myself into this self-reflective, self-motivating, self-affirming process.  Disappointment, depression, diminishment and derailment sit opposite of healing, happiness, humility and hope on the spectrum that represents how we really do life.  Doing life is the real, tangible, felt thing we do every day, all day.  The pendulum swings steadily like the second hand on a clock marking time while documenting your emotional register.  Doing life requires regulation of the force of the pendulum swing and its pace.  Many of us opt out of the role of pendulum master and blame gravity for our positioning.  My very new meditation practice teaches me that having a busy mind is normal.  I already knew that about myself so that bit of information is not really a revelation for me.  The truths that follow, however, have revolutionized my thinking about my engagement with the ever present pendulum of emotion accompanying me on my life journey.

Negativity often speaks louder than positivity.  The pain of loss often digs in deeper and more intensely than the joy of hope.  All of the emotions busy my mind and provide momentum for the pendulum swing.  The practice of meditation and staying mindful of my present state empower me to integrate a lesson to my life that I coach students to use daily – no Judgment.  Removing judgment opens the pathway to acceptance.  When there is acceptance, there is truth.  When I get to truth, I do life in a place that feels :deeper than my heart.”  It feels like some soul stirring, three-dimensional space, distant like a galaxy of stars that is visible, yet untouchable.  I think it’s that place where my soul aligns with my passion and my purpose.  When I am in that perfectly peaceful place, I believe that my unique design is perfect for my calling and my voice.  Someone once told me that my writing generally reads like it comes from my heart, but there are times when I seem to write from a place “deeper than my heart.”  I told the friend that the two writings she compared had different origins.  One was typewritten and the other was an old fashioned pen to paper writing.  I write pen to paper as often as I can hoping to enter that cool place of soul stirring, passionate, purposeful speech powerful enough to draw close enough to meet the needs of villagers searching for words that educate, empower, and enlighten.

It is in our depth that we unleash the power to change ourselves and positively influence those around us.  Note that I didn’t say change others. It is not my job to change folks.  First of all, I can’t.  Secondly, I can hardly muster up enough energy some days to change myself (insert a giggle and a smile).  My time and energy are best spent countering negative stuff the universe dealt to me.  My energy must be to stay focused on a plan intentioned on hope, healing, and humility.

• Although my mindfulness practice is in its infancy, I work to live in the present. I do life in the present so my thoughts should live there too.
• Laughing works for me at all times. Laughing, like praise, disarms the enemy. The instant the laughter ensues it distracts the distractor.  I get a chance to take the offensive position as the pendulum master.  The far right swing halts with my grasp and I wield the pendulum to submit to a calmer place left of center.
• I am going into the new year consciously deciding and prioritizing the people and things that get time in my head and heart. Saying this out loud sounds mean and selfish, but there must be some type of continuous ranking of priorities since my mental and emotional resources are expendable. In order to dream, plan, work the dream, and work the plan, I need time, energy, momentum, support from the village, and a selective use of my resources.
• I will practice the concepts of “no judgment” and “no regret.” Regular engagement with judgment and regret waste time and energy. I won’t over emphasize any perceived misstep or “bad” move. I will work to “hold it in the road” (as daddy used to say) until I figure out my next.  I will channel the inner chess player and figure out the next best move on the board.
• I will keep dreaming about being a paid empowerment speaker, storyteller, and writer.
• I will build my network.
• I will increase my subscriber base.
• I will continue living my passion to educate, empower, and enlighten villages of people.
• I will celebrate all of the things that seem small: breathing, use of my limbs, a “sound” mind, free will, family, close friends, the legacy of family no longer with me, and Swaggy.

Heads up, Y’all!  Only positive, non-judgmental thoughts permitted to follow you into the new year.  If you can’t conjure up your own positive image for the new year, I will let you share mine:  My new website will be live in a couple of weeks and my new leadership guide won’t be far behind.  It’s time for us to go do life with an energetic spirit of greatness.  If you didn’t feel ready to be better in the new year, I hope this post helps you get ready!

The holiday season is so commercialized that I think it’s easy for people forget about the reasons that the season is supposed to be meaningful. The momentum for the religious and cultural observations in December starts building in late October. Halloween advertising, party planning, and the all important costume selections ignite a festive spirit.

As a child, I looked forward to every opportunity to dress up, open gifts, enjoy special treats, and hang out with friends and family. I spent most of my time wishing for and hoping for specific things. I remember attaching names to some of my wishes and expectations. For example, I knew which neighbors would have the “best” candy Halloween night. I didn’t care so much about the professional finish to our costumes. I found pleasure in shouting, “trick or treat,” when the doors opened. I like it when the neighbors smiled and chuckled as they asked, “What are you supposed to be?” Back in the day, no item in the house was off limits as we used our imaginations to create the perfect costumes.

Once the candy counting and sorting ended, we were on to planning for Thanksgiving. I left the menu to mama and turned my focus to the Thanksgiving day itinerary. Thanksgiving day in Montgomery meant going to the Turkey Day Classic Parade after which we ate “a little something.” Next, we attended the Alabama State Homecoming game at Crampton Bowl then we ate dinner before heading to the Commodores concert that night. This was the routine most of the steps. Throughout the holiday season, the to-do list regenerated and repopulated itself as we moved from one holiday to the next. Like the wind whisking leaves around a yard in the fall, the holiday season sent a cyclone of items, people, and things into orbit around us.

This year’s holiday season presented a different experience. My positioning shifted to a space outside of the swirling commercially driven-sprint. I felt like the the midwestern homeowner standing inside the warm house peering out of the window at the leaves swirling about the yard. The cool winds signaled the forced transition of seasons from fall to winter. The seasons had no choice but to enter the vacuum. I found myself wondering why I ever loved the hustle and bustle of the season.

The newfound quiet time left me to think about the wishlist for each holiday. This year I didn’t wish for candy or unique gifts. This year I hoped to see my family and close friends. I wished for shared time with them. I had thoughts of hearty laughs, good food, game time, and how fast the time would past. I fought the feelings of aloneness because I missed those who passed away. I did a little bit of online shopping, but I decided I would rather spend my money on travel costs that would bring them closer to me. I went to the mall and the crowds and long lines made me literally shake my head. The shopping experience was a bit overwhelming and the cheerful holiday shoppers made awful partners on the roadways too.

I hope that my audience will not forget that the holidays are supposed to be fun. Fun, family, and friends motivated participation in all of the holiday gatherings and experiences during my childhood. I would argue that I participated in the hassles associated with the holiday seasons in the past because my family and friends would benefit from my sacrifices of time and money. I learned that the things and the amount of stuff means nothing without the relationships with the people. I hope that my audience will maximize opportunities to laugh and talk with friends and family. I wish that my audience will opt to embrace the true meaning of the three month long holiday season and pay forward gifts of human kindness that can really produce hope and peace.

Photo by Tang Junwen

Mitch Matthews and his wife started Big Dream Gatherings in May 2006 after they realized their game development dream seemed a failed venture.  After guiding friends and friends of friends through the Big Dream Gathering experience over a span of several days at their home, the introverted Mitch became an inspirational voice promoting the power of dreaming.  I have spent my life empowering other folks with my visions of their greatness while walking around a carrier of what I call “a suppressed dream gene.”

I believe that all of us were born with a dream gene.  For many years, I enjoyed time reading to children, kid sitting, and volunteering in environments focused on young children.  Through my experiences, I engaged in conversations with children about their dreams.  They dreamed of being teachers, police officers, firemen, doctors, lawyers, and world leaders.  Once the little dreamers I birthed became middle school students, I increasingly spent more time with teenagers and found the lights of their eyes dim compared to the eyes of younger children.  I asked, “Why?!”

Big Mama used to say that our eyes served as windows into our hearts.  The remote possibility that the dimmed light of the eyes of a young person represented a child living with a sad heart broke mine.  My heartbreak never fractured in a way that created an optimal circumstance for quick and complete healing.  My heartbreak for the child with dimly lit eyes resembled a stress fracture that permitted use with limited range of motion accompanied by discomfort.  Suddenly, the “why” question became “What happened?”

In my search to understand the babies in our midst gazing through shaded lenses, I reflected on my own life experiences.  I traveled back to my earliest memory of the dream gene.  About age seven or eight, I dreamed of becoming a pediatrician.  I remembered blending some type of antiseptic cream, Vaseline, and lotion (I think) to make a salve to apply to a scar.  In middle school, I dreamed of being an interior decorator.  I have vivid memories of the work it took to convince my father to persuade my mother to paint the walls in my room sky blue.  In modern times that would not be a big deal, but in the late 70’s a wall any color other than white or eggshell aroused house guests to make the following proclamations: “Oh, my!”; “Lola, whose idea was it this?”; “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a blue room.”  These were all bright-light dream moments in my life.  Then, the why and what intertwined and hijacked my dream gene.

Hijacked seemed the appropriate term for the feeling I felt when the dream of being a pediatrician left my being.  I decided not to watch families live the life I lived sitting in hospitals for days that turned into months while family members receiving care made treatment facilities our surrogate homes. Again, I felt the immediate loss and hopelessness of separation from my natural being the instant daddy said, “You can’t make no money decorating nobody’s house.” (I wrote a blog post about that childhood experience if you care to read about it in more detail:  http://wp.me/p6L8u0-45 ).  The silent pressure of pain and power crept up on my dream gene poised for attack like of an out of control hypertension diagnosis.  Like the optic blood vessels in a hypertensive attack,there was a squeezing of my dream gene restricting my vision.  The channel from my heart made the journey to each dream appear further away or unrecognizable to my natural eye.

Later in life, I realized that the dream gene was not hijacked.  My dream gene was just suppressed.  Time further revealed that during the period when I was in the suppressed dream cycle, I kept employing the unique skills sets, gifts, and talents necessary to excel had the dream met my reality.  For example, I never stopped using my voice and resources for the benefit of supporting, encouraging, and enhancing the lives of young people.  And, a survey of my life from my wardrobe to the walls of my house shout color and creativity.  I have lived the dream of fixer and decorator all of my life.  This new perspective simultaneously frustrated me and excited me.  I thought, “yes,” to the creative use of my resources to live out the mutated dreams.  I thought, “yes,” to those who supported the mutated dream chaser in me because the world received benefits from my efforts.  The frustration came with thoughts of the loss to countless benefactors as a result of the limits of living life with dimmed lights for a few decades.

When my first book was published, I wise friend told me something to encourage me to keep writing.  She said something like this: For every day I waited to share my writing and my voice with others, I missed opportunities to give to the world the gift God designed me specifically to share.  So, even when it seemed like I was shouting to the wind and that nobody was listening, I wrote and I spoke. Using my voice through my writing and through speaking kept me connected with my dream even when the dream was distant or invisible.  The efforts, small or slow, moved me closer to the dream.  So, I wrote and I spoke and I moved. Movement gave life to my dormant dream gene reawakening my ability to dream and to dream more often.

My daughter once said something like, “Mom, do you really think every kid can do something great?”  I answered, “yes” with an excited smile.  The idea of helping a young person be great or inciting greatness in my staff gives me chills.  Those types of thoughts make my heart race, in a good way.  My time with Mitch and others at the Big Dream Gathering may have been the first time I felt chills, heart-racing, and tears thinking about my own dreams.  I believed that the bright eyed kid lives within me.  I am certain that a dreamer lives within my readers and that their eyes will brighten if they allow themselves to dream.  We must dream beyond the things that intentionally or unintentionally darken our spaces.

Watch out for fear, doubt, or lack of vision owned by you or others.  Look out for the historic affect of words that limited you or numbers that made things seem impossible or too late to serve anyone any good. Why is something so easy to do so difficult? Why does it feel so foreign and uncomfortable? Write down at least one dream and enjoy the light-hearted, youthful life of a dreamer, if only a moment!

I believe that each of us, in our reflective moments, has considered events in our past that changed us forever.  When I was in my mid twenties, someone challenged me to write down as many significant life experiences as  I could remember.  The challenger also directed me to think back as far as I could in my evaluation and recording of my life experiences.  At that time, my list included the onsets of family illnesses and a few times when some grown folks did things that left me to manage some emotional scars.  That exercise made me cognizant of the overwhelming nature of chaos on the human mind and body.  I had gotten so accustomed to living in chaos that chaos felt normal.  Living in a chaotic state surprisingly begged me to loiter in the madness.  Contentment, even if perceived, made finding the exit more challenging.  Escaping the chaos seemed as impossible as moving through a house of mirrors without a misstep.  The chaos never felt comfortable in a relaxed, heart-warming sort of way. I did, however, find comfort in learning that the same combination of troubles didn’t last always and that I was not likely to experience the same combination of craziness again.

Now, if I look back over the last twenty to twenty-five years of my life, my list of life altering events would include moves, children, the deaths of Mama, Daddy, and Butch, a full time job, and my empty-nester life in the desert.  Once again, the collective force of individual major life changing events felt like chaos.  Last spring, I told a friend that my life was “exhausting.”  Exhaustion came when the individual challenges missed the memo proclaiming that each challenge must rise up one at a time.  There were times over the last twenty-five years that I cussed the instants that the layering of the life changing events occurred.  This week I thought about the headshaking moment when my father died three weeks after my second child was born and about three months after my husband lost his job in a city we had just moved to about four months prior so that he could accept the job he lost.  Well, I survived and my hair grew back in time for my subsequent chaotic cycles.

The weight of the layered issues convinced me that there was a higher power at work in my life guiding me through the madness.  Although I’ve been told by folks that they don’t believe in a higher power, it has been my experience that my level of chaos had me so exhausted at times that I couldn’t see my way out with my natural eyes or by my own strength.  I was in a place that Naida Parson called something like having a need that “only God can fix” at a time when “you can’t afford to fail.”  Whether or not your beliefs align with mine, I learned a method to get myself and others out of the maddening chaos.

The way out always involved my village.  My village always included folks who could help me breath and think.  The villagers always sifted out the emotion.  The villagers redirected me to the facts and the simple truths.  The villagers delivered the the facts and truths then guided me into a calm place where I had enough peace and quiet to think.  In that space, I developed a plan to address each challenge.  Finally, the villagers remained on call to help me process my checklist and/or get me back on task when I strayed.

In my work, I take pride in my role as villager for young people.  I encourage them to use their challenges to catapult them into a better place.  I sit with them and engage in dialogue intended to motivate them to keep thinking beyond their challenges.  I impress upon them the need to seek out a village and then employ the willing villagers to coach them and cheer them through their life changing moments.  I hope my audience will do the same.  Chaos doesn’t have to be your normal and you don’t have to work through the mess alone.

I have a love-hate relationship with technology.  I absolutely love it when it works when I need it to work and when it performs in the manner that makes my life seamless.  I love the allure of the new bright and shiny things that really smart people create with the proposition that the gadgets will make my life easier and more manageable.  I love the sleek designs that make the devices slip into my pocket or tote without adding bulk or excessive poundage.  I also love shopping for covers and other accessories for the devices more than I love spending my time learning about the science of the devices that awes geniuses and tech savvy people.

 Events in my personal and professional life have reminded me that I love technology as an art form and more than a science.  There was a reason I changed my major from electrical engineering to English.  Today’s post is for those challenged like me and for the smart ones who need advice on how they can better support those like me with technology shortcomings, but are otherwise very bright and capable people.  Here is my survival kit for folks like me who are technologically challenged:

·       Don’t purchase the first bright and shiny thing that claims to make your world better and brighter.

·       Find people who can understand your limitations and are willing to help your understand your options after stop laughing.

·       Purchase the device or find someone with the latest shiny thing and purchase their old one.  Once my son and I split the cost of an iPod as a cost savings measure.  I used it when he was in school and busy with other activities and he used it the rest of the time.  We didn’t like all of the same music so we created playlists. We also learned to appreciate music we might not have selected prior to our joint venture.

·       Once you make the purchase, take advantage of any inperson tutorials or find online support.  Please do this sooner than later or be me with a deadline learning about the science of my new toy under the pressure to make the deadline.  I can tell you that I have found lots of online support, but the key is knowing what to put into the search engine to get the information you need. Although that seems obvious and basic, I think I’ve wasted more time searching than I did actually watching self-help videos wand reading articles on my topics.  Here’s a tip for the smart ones: Start at the beginning with basic tips for those like me.  Whatever you think we ought to know is likely two or three steps ahead of what we actually know so go back to the this is how you turn on your device point and you should be good.

·       Find a young one who grew up with technology who is flattered by your innocence.  You should also be alright if they help out of pity because you are ignorant.  Personally, either reason works for me because I just want the help.

I hope that my short guide to technology for those challenged like me is helpful.  I hope it encourages folks to put their pride aside. Admit what you don’t know and ask for help.  Writing this post made me giggle because these tips might also apply in relationships with people.  For example, it is important to take your time in building relationships.  You should learn as much as you can about folks with whom you enter relationships earlier as opposed to later.  Successful relationships will mean having the ability to accept instruction or information from others in areas where you are ignorant and the ability laugh at yourself when innocence about new or trending topics is exposed.

A couple of years ago these sporadic waves of heat came over me.  Since I was approaching fifty, I wondered if the sudden warming within might be the onset of menopause.  Because this heat came so sporadically I had time to forget about one heated experience by the time I had another.  I found myself always shocked by these “personal summers.”

Every time I realized I was the only one fanning myself and sweating I would ask, “Is anyone else hot?”  Whether I was with the young ones at work or home I received a look of surprise and a reluctant, “No.”  Their faces were almost apologetic and curious at the same time.  I tried to explain how this warming sensation was different than the heat I felt while standing in the sun.  This type of heat originated from a cell deep within my body and warmed up like the coils on an electric stove becoming red enough to boil water.  The cell became a red hot coal unleashing fire and heat into and through my shoulders, chest, neck, and head.  The simultaneous eruption of salt water from all of my sweat glands has never come at a convenient time.  I always found it an unwelcomed disruption.  I also wondered whoever called them hot “flashes” must never have had one like mine.

The hotness never resembled anything quick or hurried.  The ember that produced the internal heat wave hung around and increased the mercury inside like the heat that lingers over asphalt on a hot day in a southern city.  There was no hurried or zippy pace.  There was no flash.

Prior to last weekend when I visited a Midwestern city, my experience had been my months would pass between these mid-life change episodes.  Last weekend, however, the frequency increased and my family noticed the changes in my behavior as a result of this hot flash madness.  Like other disruptive unexplainable moments in my life I found that humor made even hot flashes more tolerable.  During my visit, I hung out with family.  While we were out having lunch, there arose a heatwave.  However, this time it wasn’t me reacting to the surprise attack of a private summer.  It was my cousin, Lisa.  As she was telling us a story about something she eased her hand inside of her handbag, pulled out some type of lanyard, and hung it around her neck.  It took a second before I saw the motorized fan hanging at the end of the strings.  Oh my gosh!  Did she just pull out a fan?  We made eye contact and started to laugh as I struggled to ask the question that had an obvious answer because I could see the fan resting on her chest.  She obliged me by answering with a “Girl, yes!”  Then, everyone at the table roared with laughter, men included.  I said, “Girl, that’s a big fan.  Does it have rechargeable batteries?”  She laughed more and said, “No,” as she reached into that handbag again.  This time she pulled out and held up a pack of double A batteries for all of us to see.  At that point, I was laughing so hard my stomach was aching.  When the laughter quieted a bit, I asked, “Is that fan color coordinated with your outfit?” The head shakes and chuckles continued.  She answered in the affirmative then showed me a picture of her colorful fan stash.

Lisa and I were near the same age and we spent time together during summer breaks as children.  It was so cool to see that we still had the same sense of humor and the ability to laugh at ourselves.  Her transparency led to more stories about our personal summers.  We talked about the blessing of the thermostats in our homes.  We laughed about how we could care less what other folks in the house think about our thermostat adjustments when we are overcome by that heat.

I started to tell the group about my challenges at work with finding ways to adapt to the heat when there’s no thermostat.  I laughed about the coaching I received from a mentor about layering my clothing so that I can discreetly remove layers in order to cool off, if needed.  Lisa shook her head in quick, short movements left to right as she added something like, “Girl, no.  Skip layering.  I just go sleeveless” (of course accessorized with a colorful motorized fan).  The male cousins at the table were shaking their heads and offering guttural deep chuckles as if they were trying to just eat in peace without hearing our testimonials.  I knew they were engaged because I heard the chuckles that escaped them despite of their efforts to contain them.  I think their interest and entertainment fueled my desire to tell one more story.

The final hot flash testimony related to another work experience.  One day the guys from facilities came into my office to tell me that they completed some work on the building that revealed that there was water in the radiator lines for my floor.  They seemed pretty happy about this revelation.  All I wanted to know was how that impacted me so I asked, “What does that mean?” He proudly announced, “Now, your radiator will work and you will have heat in your office.”  As I recall, someone from my staff was in the door with a Cheshire cat grin because they knew about my special relationship with heat.  With concern and a sincere impassioned plea, I begged facilities dude not to fix what was broken.  He continued to bask in his proud discovery and he assured me that the radiator was fixed and operational.  He even asked me to walk close enough to feel the heat from the radiator.  I stopped the madness and said, “I appreciate your work, but I am a pre-menopausal woman and I don’t need any more heat.  You can turn this off now.”  He laughed along with my staffers who gathered to witness my one-woman comedy show.  He left and returned early the next day.  I said something sarcastic like, “Why did you come back? To make sure your heater was working?” Again, he laughed and responded, “Nope.  I have a work order to shut off your radiator.”  I gave praise and listened to the giggles in the distance.

My daddy used to say, “Just keep living.”  I understand what he meant now.  If you keep on living, you may own the testimony of your elders.  I remember my mother sweating out her natural having hot flashes and now it’s me trying to iron out my edges after a few personal summers.  I am so thankful that I have found friends and family to join me in a light-hearted way to deal with this mid-life challenge.  If you have a testimony to share, please do so whether it’s your own story or a funny one you witnessed.  I love to laugh and I will be using laughter to get through all of the hot spots I will encounter on this journey.

Summer break officially ended last week and I honestly didn’t fell like I had any break at all.  Not too long ago, someone jokingly said to me, “I bet you can’t wait for 2017 to be over!”  I had never had that thought even though my life, at times, in 2017 has been exhausting.  Given the fact that I had never discussed my life or my occasional exhaustion with this person, I had to ask, “What do you mean by that [statement]?”  The person went on to recount every challenging moment in my life that they watched me experience so far in 2017.  As a parent, wise elders always reminded me that my children were watching me.  Apparently, the grown folks around me have been watching me too.

It was interesting to me that the onlooker empathized with my perceived life struggles, but had never approached me during any challenging moment to offer encouragement, advisement, or support.  I wondered if the concerned bystander watched with the baited breath of a spectator as the clock expired and their team sat forth and goal with one final chance to score on what would be known as the winning drive.  Was the concerned bystander waiting to see if any first responder would appear to save me from being overtaken by this relentless natural wonder that continued to dump unexpected chaos into my life? Had there been some entertainment value for them like the movie goer on the edge of the seat inhaling buttery morsels of popcorn and cheering for the underdog?  Had this concerned person just watched me to see if there would be fallout or wreckage from my repeated collisions with the life locomotive seemingly sent to derail me?

 As with many of the peripheral influences in my life, I categorized this bystander as one of the shadowy, faceless figures destined to be left in my past.  I took from the encounter only what I needed and expressed gratitude for the lesson.  Then, I sped away from the pointless, useless chatter about my unexplainable life issues.  The pace at which I have learned to leave such chatter in my past erases the negative spirit and the faces of negativity from my brain space.  My practice has become to these folks  to my “shadowy figure lineup.”  Recently, I was talking about my blog topic for this week and the person asked if the concerned bystander was a man or a woman.  Before responding, I chuckled (in my head) because I couldn’t remember.  It was clear to me that I took the lesson and relegated yet another person who left me hanging in a moment of challenge to my “shadowy figure lineup.”  The gender of the person who caused me disappointment, pain, or neglect hasn’t been the criteria for banishment to my imaginary world of shadowy figures.  I believe that has been the case because many of life’s lessons are gender neutral so it made good sense to me that my memory was without discrimination.  The human shadows have served as lessons upon which to develop personally and professionally with grace, focus, and excellence. 

In years like 2017, when life brought me rounds of events that jarred my center and moved me emotionally to simultaneously  feel hurt, pain, frustration, disappointment, loneliness, sadness, and grief I must have had something in me that made the concerned bystander wonder how I was still standing.  Being overwhelmed by chaos, made me desperate for relief.  Desperation for change was a good thing because I couldn’t sit idle waiting for people to notice my state of survival.  My concerned bystander proved that people will just sit and watch and do nothing.  They won’t ask you if you need help and they don’t always go seek out help for you.  2017 layered some of life’s most challenging issues on my shoulders like I was the based of a pyramid in a circus performance.  My head and my body were weary, but my heart and mind were strong and desperate to keep standing upright through this balancing act. 

I hope that anyone carrying the weight of a chaotic life will learn, as I did, to ask for help from those who offer.  I had to learn to trust people like they have trusted me to help them manage times of challenge.  I didn’t trust them to take my place as the base, but asking them to play the role of safety net for me was a great place to start.  I decided that I could give them roles of supporting cast members in this production who might do things like to bring me a cool towel to wipe the sweat so that I could see the obstacles more clearly, or to nurture me with water or encouraging words.  After my brother’s death, I felt more alone than I had in a while.  I was facing a move, a hope of job advancement, a change of family dynamics, and a move.  A friend sent a text to ask if I needed anything.  At that moment, I struggled to say that I just needed “company.”  I needed someone to just sit with me so that I wouldn’t be alone.  Give yourself permission to take even small steps to decide how much you can entrust to other folks or things on your way to elevating yourself above and out of the troubled situation.

Wishing that my year would end would do nothing but steal time that I can use to live.  How foolish that wish would have been!  We live our lives every day with people observing and grading our performances.  Don’t hold on to their comments or their scorecards.  In your desperation for relief, find comedy.  Find new purpose to make the chaos purposeful.  Find something or someone to provide a healthy, safe way for you to answer the challenge with calm, peace, and hope.  Let what feels like a desperate situation drive you to breathe and put one foot in front of the other until you move your way through the situation.