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Blogging, Life and Gasping for Air

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Oxygen mask

To start writing again, you just have to write. Pretty simple advice but it’s true. Today feels like as good time as any to just write. As I sat down to write the typical blog post, you know the one with nuggets of wisdom, and how-to do that thing you don’t know how to do, this post was standing in the way. Yes, that post – the one you’re never supposed to write on a business blog because of branding, image and all that jazz. Luckily for me I’m not chased down my paparazzi or swarmed by swooning fans that care about me maintaining an “image.”

This year was supposed to be an epic new chapter in my life. I turned 50 in January and was looking forward to a year of celebration and joy. Days before my 50th birthday, I learned that my youngest brother (who shares my birthday month) was ill. Life quickly spun into research, treatments, hospitalizations, sleepless nights and many, many family phone calls. This is in the midst of running a business. By February, I was exhausted but accepting of the new normal. In March my brother died. Even as I write this my stomach drops.

My brother’s service was on a Friday and I went back to work on Monday. Big. Fat. Mistake. I was so afraid that if I took time off things would fall apart. So I continued to work with a heart so heavy it felt like a second person. One sleepless night after another, I got up in the morning and convinced myself that I could soldier through until things really did start to fall apart.

I was off my game but too sad and exhausted to do anything about it. I fell behind schedule and worked hard to catch up but I let other things slip like business development. With two clients winding down I learned a third was cutting their budget. Ugh. All normal stuff in normal times but disaster when you are the working wounded. The last bit of bad news shocked me back to life. Not what I would have chosen, but hey it worked.

On the other side of depression, I now see how unwise it is to care for others without caring for you first. We’ve heard it so often – put on your own oxygen mask first. I’ve said it countless times to harried entrepreneurs and over extended friends and yet I allowed myself to get into a position where I was gasping for air. So, I’m writing this post as a declaration of my own healing and a precautionary warning for all of you.

I worked out of fear and but the thing I feared happened anyway. It would have been far better if I had allowed time to tend to my needs before trying to meet the needs of others, even if is my business. I won’t allow myself to fall for this lie again. I am a person of faith but in this I acted like a spindly coward who could not let go and trust that it would all work out.

In the end, it is all working out and better than I could have predicted. So today I take another step (a long meandering one, but thanks for indulging me) into my new future. I can’t promise daily posts but I am happy to be able to just write, regardless of the frequency.

Have you ever forgotten to put on your own mask? I’d love to hear your comments, because we’re all in this together!

Be The Hero

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Written by Karen D. Swim

Be the Hero: Three Powerful Ways to Overcome Challenges in Work and Life is a new book by Noah Blumenthal. The book is essentially about overcoming self-inflicted victimization.  It inspires us to change the stories we tell ourselves, rise above and be the hero.

The book made the Top 20 in all books this week and it’s close to making the New York Times bestseller list for the week. Here’s the really cool part, all sales through Saturday, August 8th will count toward New York Times bestseller status. If When the book makes it Noah will donate  100% of his royalties from this bestselling week to the Miami Children’s Hospital.

Not a bad deal, you get a life changing book, and the chance to change the life of a child.

Hop, Skip, Double and a Dip

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Written by Karen D.  Swim

I watched the little girls draw the crooked squares in colored chalk on the sidewalk. I smiled remembering my own childhood games of hopscotch. Hop, hop, hop. The first round was always easy because you knew what to expect. Hop, hop, hop, land, hop, land hop. You knew just how long you needed to balance on one leg before landing on two feet again.

Life sometimes feels like a game of hopscotch. Sometimes you maneuver a tiny square on one leg and in other places both feet are firmly planted on the ground. Along the way you pick up your marker as you progress from square to square. Unlike hopscotch, the squares are not neatly drawn in brightly colored chalk. You may find yourself balancing longer than is reasonably comfortable on one leg praying to reach the spot when you can put down both feet and steady yourself. Hop, hop, hop, hop, hop, land, hop.

In hopscotch and life  the game grows in complexity as you add more people. No longer jumping from square to square, you also have to jump over the obstacles that others have placed in your path. Hop, jump, jump, hop, hop, land, jump, hop.

As I sat musing, the little girls giggled, ponytails bobbing up and down as they each took turns, hopping, landing, and picking up their marker. Hop, land, hop, bend,  jump, turn to do it again. I watched as the smaller little girl took her turn, eyes on the pattern, with determination in her eyes – hop, hop, hop, jump, hop, bend, stumble. Rather than become discouraged they collapsed into giggles, declared a winner and started a new game, hop, hop, hop, land, hop, land, hop.

I rose from the chair with a smile determined to go and start my own new game, no colored chalk required.

How’s your game these days? Are you jumping on one foot or two? Do you start a new game when you stumble or just go to the end of the line?

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Buck up or Break Down?

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It's the picture of Italian ice-cream in a sho...
Image via Wikipedia

Written by Karen D.  Swim

Have you ever spent a day or two fighting off an illness? You feel sort of lousy but solider on at half speed not wanting to give in to being sick?  Finally, you decide that it would be better to admit defeat and spend a day or two in bed. You realize that you could fight for a week and operate at reduced capacity or simply give in for a day or two and emerge recovered.

Sometimes holding back negative emotions is exactly like those days you waste pretending you’re not really sick. You exert your energy pretending that you’re not hurting, sad or angry – energy that could be directed at solving your problem.

There are times when bucking up is truly the smart thing to do, but at other times you really need to be kind enough to yourself to break down. In those times, to ignore what you feel can actually prevent you from taking positive action. So go ahead and cry, scream, rant, and eat a big fat bowl of ice-cream if that is what you need to get it out of your system. When you’re done, you can then focus completely on taking action to change your situation.

Are there times in your own life when you should have chosen to break down or vice versa? How do you decide when to cry “uncle” and when to tough it out?

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What I Learned From Love

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Written by Karen D. Swim

I sat by his bed with the notebook by my side. The day was warm and clear and I gazed into the backyard as he slept. He had worked so hard on the yard and it was one of our favorite things about our lovely little home. A vegetable garden right outside our bedroom window provided us with beautiful tomatoes, peppers, corn, herbs and greens. An array of beautiful blooms surrounded the yard like the borders of a frame. The trees seemed to gently watch over us as they stretched toward the sky.

A few weeks ago he had cut down huge branches from the tress closest to the house.  He seemed like a man possessed. I hated watching trees being trimmed and my eyes brimmed with tears as I feared he was cutting too much.  I asked him what he was doing. Without missing a beat with the saw he told me he had to do it while he could so I would not have to worry. My husband was not romantic in the traditional sense but his practical gestures of love were like a sonnet written upon my heart.

His gentle breathing quickened and I shook from my reverie, returning to the present. I looked over, ready to spring into action when he looked toward the right of the room. His brows knitted together, he asked “who are all those people?” I followed his eyes and asked softly, “What people honey?” “All those people, dressed in white.” I swallowed the lump in my throat before responding, “those are the angels honey they are watching over you.” Pleased with my answer he continued to look at them in silence. I don’t know what he saw but I felt a mixture of peace and sadness. I could not bear to let this man go, so many things left undone, but I knew that if it were to be he would be gently carried away to a far better place.

The following week I calmly called 911 when he struggled to breathe. I opened the notebook and gave the paramedics a full history of all that happened that day, blood pressure, pulse, glucose, medications, and more. They eyed me in amazement but love had taught me to keep track. I drove behind the ambulance to the hospital, making phone calls along the way. Once again, I sat by his bed, comforting, praying and loving him. Soon he was being wheeled to ICU and our hands locked together, I leaned in and told him I wanted him to live but if he needed to let go, I would be okay.

The words so easily tumbled from my lips in spite of the pain in my heart because love had taught me to put it first. It was not my pain that mattered but his peace. That was to be our final night. No words were left unspoken as the angels gently carried him away.  Love taught me to embrace it fiercely, and cherish it deeply but to release it when the time came for it to soar to the heavens.

I learned from love how to let go.

This post is a contribution to the February What I Learned From groupwrite project. I struggled to hit publish on this one and Robert gently encouraged me and graciously offered to accept my late entry. Thank you Robert!

Wednesday Love List

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At Last

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Barack Obama and Michelle Obama
Image via Wikipedia

Written by Karen D. Swim

Last night, U.S. President Barack Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama danced their first dance to the song At Last (originally recorded by Etta James). The song was recorded in 1961, four years before the National Voting Rights act was signed. Nearly a century later it has a new place in our history, marking yet another milestone in our country.

I have always loved this song but as I listened to it this morning I wondered, how many woke up this morning in anticipation of their own “At Last?” How many are still in the struggle for what sometimes may seem a far off battle? How many desperately want to celebrate their own At Last?

President Obama symbolized the culmination of a long fought battle for many Americans but as he pointed out the sacrifices of generations paved the way to that moment. As he stood in the national spotlight yesterday, he did it standing on the shoulders of so many who struggled, fought, sacrificed and most importantly believed there would be an “At Last.”

Your own moment may not be 50 years in the making but I urge you today to proudly stand upon the shoulders of those that have gone before you, and to link arms with those around you who will help you make it to your moment in the sun.  It begins with belief and continues with action and yes, often sacrifice but this song can be your anthem too.

Are you working toward your own “At Last?” What keeps you motivated not to give up? Have you already arrived, and if so, have any tips to share?

Resources:

Voting Rights Act

Etta James Video

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