Away We Go
Hello, world.
How are you?
My life has been in upheaval mode since the birth of our daughter.
Funny, those newborns. They are at once the cause of and solution to life’s great distress.
We thought, my wife and I wait, scratch that, I thought that we would be ready to handle a third. I mean, we’ve already been through this stage of life twice, right? How hard could it be to add one more newborn to the equation?
Well, it’s hard.
Think of juggling. I can throw to balls in the air and catch them with ease. Add a third? It’s a circus.
I have not been able to show up for my recovery with the regularity I am used to. I am simply working on that part of myself less often and with less intensity. But all my channels are open. Sponsor, sponsees, meetings. What closes fast is the calendar.
Then there’s this: my father-in-law is sick.
Our family is smack dab in the middle of that axis point where the circle of life meets. The beginning and end are a part of our daily routine.
I have been hearing sayings as I speak with people about this process. And–sorry if you are the one who has said them to me—I don’t like hearing any of them. The first is
It is what it is.
People use this phrase as a catchall for accepting things that are adverse or unjust.
It comes across to me as defeatist. Think of the ways you can construct a sentence with the phrase and you’ll see what I mean.
Because it is what it is, I should just keep on doing what I’m doing.
There’s nothing you can do about it because it is what it is no matter what course of action you take.
When it comes to facing death, of course, it is tempting to chalk it up to inevitably. This is where we all go one day, without exception. I don’t deny that, but isn’t it more constructive to focus on the different ways you get there? We all live our lives according to different precepts and values—tenants for living that make our journey to our maker unique, our story worthy of an audience.
What if we made the sentence like this: even though it is what it is, I am going to show up and do my best today because that is a reward in itself.
I get into this with my students all the time. Whenever I lose the attention of the class I begin speaking about how teaching requires me to show up and talk about symbols and other literary things whether or not the students pay attention—that I will continue to do my job whether or not they choose to do theirs. Sometimes they ask, “Why don’t we just do nothing today?” And I’ll respond, light-heartedly, mind you, “Because I am a teacher. I provide for my family with this job. So if I don’t show up correctly, my kids don’t eat. Showing up and being your teacher puts food on the table. And my wife and children will eat tonight.” Of course, it’s dramatic. But it gets a chuckle usually and makes them think, at least. And that, making them think, is my understanding of teaching. So, mission accomplished.
Even though students don’t pay attention, I teach anyway.
Even though I don’t feel like going to work, I show up anyway.
Even though we think we are a divided nation, we all share one humanity.
Even though death awaits us all, we need never forget the living.
It is what it is, yes, but no way of living need change the way I live.
This blog has survived by sticking to my personal journey into the miracles of simple sober living. Nothing more. I live my life and, at least twice a month, I have a thousand words to throw at some new discovery of life’s charm and nuance. This post has proved more difficult.
Grandpa is alive but not well. When everything changes, routines around the holidays became especially different. It’s hard to describe how this all works. It is like a fog: it rolls everywhere and makes anything hard to see—except the fog itself.
There is nothing customary about grief. No stock consolidations or boiled-down sentiments to help the sufferer.
By my wife’s side in this process, I’ve been telling another phrase to myself often:
Stay in your lane.
Far more difficult than staying in a lane while driving down this highway of life, is discovering which lane you are signaled to journey down. And isn’t life about much more than hitting cruise control on a broad highway? We are always changing lanes, taking detours, rerouting travel. When it comes to helping a loved one process, I am finding it more important to find a new lane than stay in the one I’ve been riding on. How do I let her know that her dad is all that matters to me right now without making her sadder than she is? How do I speak about this process to my children? How do I—the consummate Mr. Fix It—resist trying to treat sadness like a solvable problem?
Life, and grief, is all about changing lanes—slowing down, signaling, speeding up as necessary. It’s just difficult when the one thing that would feel the best—pulling over and stopping entirely—is not an option.
It is good to be with grandpa this holiday season. He has had such an impact on my children’s lives. Take my son. Whether it is his fascination with guns and cowboys, his love of baseball and motorcycles, his grandfather is leaving an indelible impression on him—a lifelong one, for sure.
And then there’s my daughter. She is making card after card for her grandpa. She asks to pray for him often. I have no doubt she will ever forget the ways Grandpa has influenced her either—mainly in the form of chocolate milk, homemade ice cream, and finishing each sip of the good stuff with an exaggerated “Ahhh.”
As for the infant—how lucky are we to have her at a time like this? My wife has stared into her eyes often and thanked God for bringing this child into our world in the nick of time. She is a reminder of the pure joy of things, and that while life is a difficult process, there is a reason we put up with it the ways we must.
Which brings me to the last expression I’d like to unpack today.
I’ve been hearing it often:
God does not give you more than you can handle.
I’m not sure about that. There is little in this process I feel capable to handle.
I think it’s truer that God does not give us what God cannot help us handle. But we have to turn to a greater power to get through it. I know that is where I am turning now, in this post, in my prayers.
There’s simply nowhere else to go in times of such taxing emotional need.
And, anytime I turn to God, I receive a graceful reminder that the only way I can handle all this is to remain a sober man.
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Lovely Mark, thanks. When my students seem lethargic, unprepared, desirous of the “day off” (which they seem already to have taken), I have been asking them the central question from my second year now of teaching The Good Place: “what do we owe to each other?” I just stop and ask—what do I owe you? What do you owe your classmates, your parents, YOURSELF? I know I owe them my best effort, whatever expertise I have acquired, my full attention. It never really “is what it is”; it is also “it is what we make of it”
I like that a lot. I am adding that question, and your transformed phrase to my arsenal. Thank you, Dan.
I say this too often: once you have 3 kids you might as well have a hundred. The difference between 2 and 3 is exponential. Our girls (the youngest is 27) got home last night and we marveled at how happy we are to have a large, loud, at times hectic CROWD. It DOES get easier, but buckle up: that will be a few years from now! Merry Christmas!
Thanks HD. Merry Christmas to you and that large hectic loud crowd of yours as well!
I like the way you unpacked the phrases!
I can’t have children. Sometimes I grieve.
My sister has 6, all adults now! It was definitely a crazy ride for her! Like HD said, it’s a giant wonderful crowd!
Merry Christmas!
xo
Wendy
Thank you Wendy. And a hearty merry Christmas to you and your husband too!
Oh I love this! I had a heck of a time going from 2 to 3. It is such an adjustment and I know you know this, but so totally worth it. Number 3 is the icing on the cake. They are all adults now and I love interacting with them and watching their relationships together as adults. Husband and I say all the time how we must have done something right during those survival years because look at them! LOOK AT THEM! We made it and you will too. Much love, Cassie
Thanks Cassie. Happy holidays to you and the whole fam!
I’m sorry to hear about your father-in-law but glad to hear that your family is able to spend time with him and have happy memories about him.
“I think it’s truer that God does not give us what God cannot help us handle.” — I agree, and I love the way you’ve phrased this.
I might try the
Thank you Akilah.
Sorry to hear you’re going through a difficult time Mark. Look after yourself.w
Thanks Matt. Have a good holiday.
You have incredible person, Mark! Congratulations on your growing family. And happiest of holidays to all of you.
Thank you Cher! Always good to hear from you. Happy holidays to you!
My attitude about most of those sayings has evolved over the years. I can understand your positions, but I value a few of the sayings as well.
I like some other sayings more. Like live and let live and let go let God.
Merry Christmas, Mark. I was visiting with my freshman-in-high-school grandson, asking him about his classes, which ones he liked, and so on. He spoke of his English class and how he has always hated English. But, this year the teacher makes it fun and interesting. He enthusiastically told me all about the creative essay he wrote. So……in spite of how it feels, you are likely making that kind of positive impact at work, and also at home. Good work!
Thank you Donna. Sounds like you’ve got a budding writer in that grandson of yours!
I love this! Took me a while to read it. Prayers to you and your family.
Merry Christmas!
Dear Mark,
Congratulations on your new baby! I’m sorry to learn that your father-in-law is ill and that he and you and your wife and family are going through such a difficult time. I’m sending love, thoughts and prayers your way.
With warmest regards,
Susan
Thank you Susan. I appreciate it.
Hey Mark..I should state the obvious here, we live different lives on many levels but… why do I come here? What do I identify with here? You are always trying your best to be a good man. I need that kind of power of example in my life when I can find it.
By the reactions at the dinner table and afterwards? I ruined Christmas day this year for my sister and brother in law. I had tried for probably the last time to bring my dementia suffering mother in law to my sisters for “the big brunch”. It went sideways. Sometimes she is coherent and fun really. She’ll participate. She enjoys herself and the safe family dynamic for a few hours away from memory care. Other times? It’s all constant care. Her mind goes and well? I’m dealing with someone who has lost their mind. All the love or understanding and compassion I or anyone can muster cannot fix a broken mind. The best you can hope for is a positive distraction, if not? Make her comfortable and let her sleep.
My sister hurt me, I hurt me. I thought Christmas was a time especially for giving without condition. Offering your everything. And that may be true in most normal families but I can forget my family isn’t normal. My sister has her issues, her husband also. All a semi treated result of an emotionally abusive alcoholic upbringing. So before I went too far down the toilet I took a look around.
Sometimes I think something is right or the best scenario so it must be best for everyone. This isn’t always true. Some better moral philosophy of life based on my own experience. I forget others are living and thinking just as I am. They too were born and exposed to life and it may be quite different than my own. In other words? Sure it’s a day at a time but we’re all in different days.
So..a few days go by and the air around my sister is still thin. I am reminded of a time long ago early in my sobriety when I told myself no matter what happens I will not hurt my sister. No emotion security boost at her expense. No jockey for position searching for self esteem I am somehow owed.
I called her and said I did make a mistake bringing her to dinner. The heavy drama left a mark on the day. But in my defense? I know her end is near and wanted to try, knowing controlling a dementia patient is at best a crap shoot. I had hoped it would go another way.
Anyway..Mark. Yes I love my sister but I am not going to change myself to appease her or anyone else. I like who I am most of the time. I want to serve those who suffer I should remember more often that just because I think it well, that doesn’t make it right no matter the intentions.
I sent my sister a pic of my wife and I walking on the empty beach over in Little Compton with a caption. “It’s cold sure but a beautiful day just the same”. She replied yeah.. it looks beautiful, it’s very windy here..
Sherp—thank you for your reply. It’s always nice to read them. They become extensions of the post in a way.
So, whatever your reason for returning, I hope you continue to. I have to reach, at times, for reasons to continue this. You help keep a place for this sort of discourse to take place. So, thanks for that.
The recovery outsider looking sees a lot to take away from your Christmas experience. Some inner-sponsor in my head is telling me to tell you that we can’t control other people’s emotions, nor can we control our own. We can control the words we say and the actions we take. It seems you are doing your best in some bad situations. Plus, when there was a wrong, you made amends.
Rough Christmas Day. What is it about the holidays that make them so distressing? Probably the fact that it’s a whole lot of family in a small space for a short time. Pretty suffocating.
I don’t know. Sometimes relationships, I think, need to be tested in ways they haven’t. This whole passive “let go” and detach from the people we have tension with is bullshit imo. There is much more to be gained from the uncomfortable situations then there is the fried and true ones.
I like to hope that you and your sister, despite the rough day, May have forged a New path forward. One that might be nice to look back on one day. I don’t know. Here’s to a good 2020 anyway.
Mark