DID YOU GIVE UP ALREADY?

Doing some study this morning on self-discipline. My least favorite subject. Self-discipline to me looked like grueling hours of strenuous workouts, exceptional athletes, quality dressed professionals doing extraordinary things and really killing it at this thing called life. I resigned at one point to the fact that I stink at it so forget it. I was undisciplined in self-discipline. That is until I found the actual meaning of the word.  Self-discipline is choosing to do whats right for me regardless of what I feel like doing. The dictionary says “the ability to control one's feelings and overcome one's weaknesses; the ability to pursue what one thinks is right despite temptations to abandon it”. Did you catch that? What is good for me. Not what is good for the masses or my neighbors or my friends.

This is a hard lesson to learn in the arena of chronic pain. Self-discipline is key to recovery. Doctors are no help at all.  My husband and I laugh about Dr. visits.  The typical checkup these days goes something like this…. “Your blood work looks great. Lose some weight, eat more vegetables, exercise 3 times a week and you’re good to go” What? So, yeah. I’ll just start that first thing in the morning.  What kind of instruction is that? Don’t make me lie to you because that’s not going to happen.  I do remember telling my doctor when he asked me about exercise that I wear a step bracelet and if I find myself sitting too long or haven’t been active enough, I start cleaning the house. He told me that house cleaning doesn’t count as exercise. Peyton Manning probably never broke a sweat cleaning but someone like me sure does!

Bottom line...You can create a habit of self-discipline your way, one day at a time until it becomes so natural, you don’t even realize you have made some positive life changes.  The key is choices.  Every day you make hundreds of choices.  Most of us aren’t even aware we’re making them because they seem so natural.

                  Start paying attention to the choices you are make.  You have more options than what you realize.  Choices disguise themselves as habits or routines, but they’re not, they are your choices.  For example, every day I come home from work, I head to the coffee pot for one more cup to squeeze a few more hours out of this tired body. I have healthier choices. I can power nap for 20 min, listen to some relaxing music just rest a minute to recharge my batteries.

            Pick just one small choice you make and change one thing at a time.   In the mornings, my routine was to get up, hit the coffee pot, sit down in the comfy chair and click on the news. I am very stiff and sore in the mornings so that’s my hardest time of day.  I decided to make some seriously small changes in my morning choices.  I remembered and episode of Dr. Oz where he talked about a first thing in the morning whole body stretch to start the day. It takes like 10 seconds.  I can do that, I’ve got 10 extra seconds.  So, I changed up my routine to look like this; get up, hit the coffee pot, morning stretch then sit down.  I did this everyday until I didn’t even realize I was doing it.  Eventually I worked up to no tv in the mornings and I feel much better physically and mentally. For me, that’s a gold medal win.

                   Don’t beat yourself up.  The biggest mistake anyone trying to make better choices is to beat themselves up. Not just about failure but about progress.  My goal is not to be Rocky Balboa (for us 80s kids) or Peyton Manning, it’s to be the best version of me that I can be.  What that looks like for me is not what it looks like for you.

As long as we live, we are ingrained with the drive to keep being better versions of ourselves and it does require change but self-discipline (aka better choices) doesn’t look like a grueling pain staking life of denying yourself good things. It looks like a series of accomplishments tomorrow that resulted in better choices you started making today.  It’s a slow progress to big changes. Be patient, take your time. Slow and steady does win the race.

“You don’t set out to build a wall, you lay one brick as perfectly as a brick can be laid and you do that every day and pretty soon you have a wall.” -Will Smith 

Independence Day 2017 is almost upon us.  It’s been 241 years since the signing of the Declaration of Independence.  As I sit outside this Saturday evening, its warm and raining.  All I hear in the distance is the sounds of fireworks although I can’t see anything through the dark and storm covered skies.  As I close my eyes, I can just picture 240 years ago, the sound of gun fire and patriots fighting for their freedom.  It gave me chills.  I was humbled. What would they think of us now?  I hope we have made them proud to have developed a country they fought for even though those soldiers would never see the fruits of their sacrifice.  It is a great country.  The greatest and freest of all the world and as I sit here in my little corner of a small piece of that freedom in pursuit of  happiness that is my right, I am also cautious to never take advantage of the gift of Independence that those who fought in the revolutionary war have given me.  How I live my life and how I raise my children to live and interact in this world, will honor them in the highest manner.

I am thankful today for all my past generation ancestors who believed in a country, a cause, so immensely that they were willing to give their lives for it...and for us.  And they did it.  Happy Independence Day.  Let’s Celebrate!

A Super Hero Story

 I have always enjoyed spending time with you reminiscing about days gone by and the love of all things history.  History happens as close as yesterday.  I marvel at the strength of the human race and how we all have a story to tell.  There are so many days that the thoughts of my past take a backseat to the amazing stories that random people bless me with.

Yesterday I spent the best part of the day at Vanderbilt University Hospital waiting on my husband to have surgery. I wasn’t alone. I was surrounded by others just like me spending time in a holding pattern for their loved ones as well.  In one of the waiting areas, I glanced across the room and noticed a man in his 70s, walking with a cane and sitting alone.

 I am not really one to keep to myself so I began my conversation asking him about who he was waiting on.  He has been bringing his 49 year old stepson here for surgeries from 175 miles away in Kentucky.  He would just light up talking about all his sons and their amazing potential in life, that is until this one had a series of strokes and the other had health issues that has kept them from living up to that potential. I had to keep asking questions since he was so willing to chat with me.  I talked about the fact that there is always a way to use our gifts, even when life seems to throw a curve ball.

That conversation led us to the most intriguing conversation of the day.  This sweet man, with a bad leg and the energy to drive his son back and forth from Kentucky to Nashville, was a marine in the Vietnam war. When we began speaking about overcoming obstacles, he was more than ready to share the obstacles he had overcome in his youth.

“In Vietnam, the heroin was 82% pure heroin. Not like the stuff they have today.  This stuff was almost pure heroin.  It was easy to get and even easier to get hooked.”  As the war was ending, he traveled through the Philippines before heading home.  There he experienced the hell of withdrawal. He had never been so sick for so long. The vomiting, shaking and complete torment overcame every ounce of his being.

I asked him what happened after he returned home, thinking that relapses are common and the difficulty re-adjusting from war.  He said “Well, I decided to go to college, get my degree and now I am an alcohol and drug counselor.” He didn't talk about the post Vietnam war stuff we read about or the struggles of reintegrating with society. All he knew was that he would never experience the effects of drug use again.  He talked about hope and his goal of saving people from his previous fate. Still. At 70 something.

As soon as that was said, the phone rings and the nurse calls me out. I turned and looked at the man and thanked him for telling me his story. I told him I hope his son’s surgery goes well.

That was it. I never saw him again over the next 5 hours I spent at the hospital. I looked everywhere because I really would have loved to hear more but I guess that wasn’t meant to be that day.

We are all superheroes.  We all have that mountain we have to move and then use that strength to help others move their mountains. We may have different superpowers, but we are all heroes.

Life's Like This

It’s a forest. A big huge forest.  It’s the Smoky Mountains. When you’re 20 something, your standing at the edge of the forest looking in. You are in awe. Its so big and beautiful. Its exciting and scary.  You are ready.  With all the enthusiasm, you have everything packed you think you will need for your trip. Your trip to the other side where there awaits you a castle of beauty and all the promises of a sweet restful life.  You are sure you have everything. The tent, sleeping bag, food, water, clothes and a great pair of hiking boots.  “This forest is mine. I got this!”

            As you head in and find the trail, the excitement is so exhilarating, you run.  The quicker you get to where you’re going the sooner you can just sit back and enjoy the scenery.

Before long the run turns to a jog then the jog to a walk.  There are snakes in here! You didn’t bring a bite kit for that.  There are huge rock walls that need to be climbed.  There are rivers that must be waded through.  There’s weird noises.  One after another you face things you never dreamed you would face. And things you never planned on preparing for.  Every once in a while, you slip on some damp moss and rock ledges, tumble down a hill and land in a pile of brush.  You check yourself for injuries, get up and move on.  This seems a little overwhelming and more than you bargained for.  When you finally find a peak high enough to look around, it seems the way back to the start (because all you want is rest) is much further now and more complicated than when you entered in.  You must keep pushing forward even though, at the highest peak, you can’t see the destination. 

This is the point on your journey that you begin to determine that you will start enjoying the good things around you since you’re not sure what the other side looks like.  You notice the wild flowers are blooming the most beautiful shade of purple and pink.  The animals seem to have a system in their storing food, talking to each other and interacting in their world.  Your eyes are starting to open.  This crazy wilderness that you realized you weren’t prepared for suddenly becomes a source of peace in all its hills and valleys.

I’m in the middle of my forest.  There is no ending yet because I still can’t see it from my mountain top but it took me everything I had to get here.  From battling lions to warding off poison ivy.  The number of days I have won is all of them.

Happy Trails and keep going, you’ll get there.

The Melting Pot

I grew up in a melting pot. I almost think that kids raised in non diverse cultures have a serious disadvantage.  I loved being exposed to so many cultures every day and completely unaware that I was. I just thought it was life.  Thinking back on those days, I have so many fond memories of people who have taught me so much.  Today I glance into a world that appears to not have had the raising I did.

My first after school job is still my favorite.  The owner and my boss were orthodox Jewish and I had the best working experience of my life.  They treated all employees like family.  I always got tickled before the holidays like Yom Kipper and Passover, the wives would call and remind them of when to be home before dark and the plans for the events.  It made me grin because they would roll their eyes and come back with some Yiddish I didn’t know.  I did learn some Yiddish, 2 words exactly that I still use to this day. Oy Vey and Mashugginah.  My personal favorites. I was blessed to spend time with my boss’s dad who had escaped the concentration camps as a child and I was intrigued humbled with the stories.

On my way home from work every day I would stop at the Dairy Mart and get my 10:30 candy bar and a can of coke.  The owner used to give me a hard time at my unspontaneous choices. Then I gave it right back. I enjoyed the ribbing and I think he did too. I would ask him about where he was from and how he ended up here.  He wasn’t offended that I asked. I was just a curious teenager and I think he was even happy I asked. He was from India, first generation to come to America to try to make a living.  He was always asking me to work for him, but I never did.

On pay day I always had to get my check to the bank at lunch because when you’re 17, by pay day, your car is running on fumes.  As I walk into the bank by my work, the only language I hear is Spanish. I caught myself staring but not because they were speaking Spanish but because I was amazed at how fast those words would just roll out. I took Spanish since 5^th grade and it still took me 15 seconds to say “me yamo Cheryl”. Or however you spell it.

The short of it, I love learning about everyone. All cultures, all peoples of the world. I find stories fascinating and getting firsthand accounts of life unlike my own are amazing.  At no time did I ever feel the need to compare my life or issue a right or wrong judgement. Just pure privilege of getting to know people. I look around me today and feel like we need to stop arguing and ask more questions; stop judging and start listening with ears of wonder.   I know who I am already and I have my thing just as you know who you are and what your thing is. Let’s go get a cup of coffee and shoot the breeze awhile.