Riding the Current Wave

I asked several friends recently how they coped with loved ones dying from cancer. I was curious as I feel at a loss for how to support the unfortunately large number of friends and family who have recently been touched by this wretched disease.

One described switching into an almost auxiliary mode of adrenaline; swallowing each new step as it comes in, doing what you can with what you've got in the moment.

"Today, we're hearing the news from the oncologist. Now, we're understanding what chemo really means. Now, we're waiting to see what it did. Today, we're hearing the next news. Now we're getting affairs in order and talking openly about death. Now, we're doing death. Today we're doing funeral..." No matter what, she still had to wake with her daughter, feed her and head to work. The world didn't stop for her situation.

Another said that somewhere in the mix there are bouts of mourning, but it took weeks, maybe even months after she was gone to realize what really happened. Events like the first major holiday without her or a task like baking Christmas cookies would spur breakdowns.

What I gathered from their descriptions is to let my loved ones be right where they are on the wave. They might be in a state of shock, sadness, relief or anger or all of those at once. The other bit I learned is that "shoulding" on someone who's mourning is also pretty counterproductive to their process.

I've been watching a loved one get "should" on by very well-intentioned fellow mourners after the recent loss of her husband. "You should run away with us for the weekend... get right back to work... take a long vacation..." I simply can't imagine what she's going through, so how would I know what she "should" or "needs to" do?

I asked a well-respected grief counselor what to do. Be available. "Let her know you're there to help her in any way you can."

After the funeral, a group of us went out on the lake and hung out, anchored at their favorite beach. Even in the shallow water, the chop from the busy lake made it hard to stand at times, so we tried kneeling. It was cooler, but not much easier. The steadiest I felt was when I took my feet off the ground, immersed myself and floated, riding the waves.

Where would you like to ride the waves in your life? What's keeping you from lifting your feet?

Good Grief! Sometimes There Just Isn't Enough Lasagna

So when someone is down and out and needs some support, they typically get a meal from me. An easy one to double is lasagna.

Between family illnesses, surgeries and new babies, May and June were filled with "lasagnas" of one kind or another. Some were given, some received (remember, I yelled "Uncle!")

At a recent GAL-thering (congregation of women), a friend looked at me and said, "Man, you've got a LOT going on!" It took me a moment and then I skewed a Forrest Gump quote.

"Sometimes, there just isn't enough lasagna."

My youngest was pleased as punch to have an over abundance of her favorite dish which she refers to as "wizzonya." Perhaps that's what I could call Summer 08... The Summer of Wizzonya. All inferences welcome...

The funny thing about it is that I hadn't really put myself in the category of having that much piled on me. I can see way more piled on my loved ones. My eldest daughter had a similar situation this week. She was stung on the forehead by a deer fly and her whole face puffed to high bits. She looked like a Star Trek Klingon or Botox gone bad, but she couldn't see it or feel it. When I kept looking at her pitifully, asking if she was okay, she finally told me to knock it off. "I'm fine, Mom!"

It's hard to know that place of when concern turns to pity and when helping may imply you see helplessness. I suppose that's when intuition kicks in to let you know whether "I'm okay" really means "I'm okay" or not.

"When in doubt, go help out" is what I try to live by, even if I have to take my wizzonya and go home.

Talk to me. What do you think?

Winning In Increments

I read an article at Sparkpeople.com that talked about setting realistic goals in increments. The article was about weight loss. They gave the example that a woman weighing, say, 170 lbs, will aim to lose 40 lbs. That’s almost 24% of her weight.

When she loses 10 or 15 lbs, she feels like she’s failed, so she stops trying. They suggest aiming to lose 10% of whatever you weigh and giving yourself a reasonable amount of time to accomplish it. Once you have the first step done, aim for the next 10%. The energy you get from the win keeps you moving.

I’ve heard clients say that they won’t start something they can’t win. Wow. Depending on the definition you hold for “winning,” you could miss out on a whole lot.

An Indian colleague of mine, Mr. Hundekari, once told me, “you cannot eat an elephant in one bite.” It’s the same thing as the 10% rule, yet I can’t always assimilate analogies across subjects.

When it comes to goals involving numbers, the 10% rule helps me keep goals in bite sized pieces. In our super-sized world, we inadvertently think in big chunks and leaps and “pantry packs.” It takes conscious choice to be reasonable with, let alone gentle on ourselves.

So what kind of Sam’s Club goal have you dumped on yourself this month? Are you doubling your sales? Revamping your entire marketing strategy? Are you teaching your 2 year old to read AND use the toilet? What goal could you dive after knowing you can win?

A Dandelion at the Finish Line

I ran a 5K on the 4th of July.

I didn't break any records. In fact, in the home stretch, there was a 25 MPH speed limit sign that made my already cottoned mouth laugh to the point of nearly gagging. I composed myself straight away as my goal was to finish the race without dying or throwing up.

Having just recovered from pneumonia in early June and having scattered bits of travel and events throughout our June schedule, training was not in the forefront of my mind. Running certainly helped the stress during the week of my mom's surgery (and how hilarious to be watched by their 8 horses as I trekked up and down their winding driveway!) Despite the empowerment gained after a run, 10,000 excuses kept me from making it routine last month. Exhaustion and inconvenience were the top two.

After the first mile of the race, two teenagers passed me. I knew their ages by the "Class of" printed on their backs. There was no breeze, we were running on a gravel track through a wooded area and, for a second, I muttered under my breath. They haven't had pneumonia. They haven't had two kids. They probably slept more than 12 hrs in the last week.

It was kind of evil. I literally shook my head to knock the crap thought out. Breathing was getting really hard. So I started to pray. God, just get me to the finish line with minimal walking. I'd like not to be last, but finishing without puking is fine, too.

Then I heard Dorrie from Finding Nemo. "Just keep running. Just keep running, running, running." Logic and empathy kicked in.

How am I to know what these fine teens are up to anyway? They're here at 9am on a holiday, aren't they? Who knows what stresses befall them in this moment? Teen stresses are often much worse than puking or dying.

Then the miraculous happened. They started to walk. I passed them! I kept running and the breeze picked up for a moment. Finishing the race before two teens, I really began wondering if I had a megaphone on my inner monologue. (Scary thought.)

After the race, my 6 year old handed me a dandelion and a dead leaf. "Here you go, Mom. This is to make you feel better since you didn't win."

"Oh honey, but I did win. I just didn't come in first. Sometimes just finishing is winning." She was less than convinced.

No matter what, running has an empowering effect on me. Except, of course, when I don't do it. Then, by my own definition, I lose.

How do you define a win? What are you losing by simply not trying?