Standing Up and Living with Fall Out

“Have you ever felt the odds stacked up so high, you need a strength most don’t posses?”  There is a certain right of passage when an individual takes a stand for something in which they believe strongly.  Whether political, social, or personal it takes guts to stand up and say, “no more.” 

No, I won’t tolerate this proposed legislative agenda.

No, I won’t allow you to drive home drunk. 

No, the way your are treating me is unacceptable. 

The first challenge is standing up for what’s right.  To make a stand, we must be honest with ourselves.  We must overcome the powers of denial so ingrained in our subconscious and admit when actions and inactions are no longer acceptable.  This is especially challenging if it means drawing some lines in the sand for yourself, your kids, and in opposition to those we may respect and love.  The question then becomes where is that line between unpleasant and intolerable.    

“Every once in a while…every once in a while there’s a day with an absolute right and an absolute wrong, but those days almost always include body counts.  Other than that, there aren’t very many un-nuanced moments…”  President Josiah Bartlet, The West Wing 2002. 

There’s a lot of gray area when taking a principled stand so the weasels of self-doubt have ample room to play – scurrying in and out of our mind gnawing at our resolve.   The absolutes we crave, the situations we read about in fiction or pine for on the silver screen, are rare.  Bad guys don’t always wear black or have ominous theme music play when they enter a room.  Unfortunately, most of the important stands one makes in life involve opposing the people we care about, respect, and love.

'There are all kinds of courage,' said Dumbledore, smiling. 'It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr Neville Longbottom.'  Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.

Standing up in the face of an enemy can leave one with a sense of heroic pride, but when that opposition is one whom we value as a mentor, friend, or significant other an entirely new set of emotions take hold.  In a healthy relationship discourse can facilitate understanding and reconciliation after such confrontations.  Just as often, however, standing up risks alienation and damage to the relationship. 

If taking the stand is the first hurdle, living with it is the second.  The right path is often not the easy path, so this is where our resolve is really tested. Moving forward in the wake of serious disagreement is difficult even if all parties reconcile their differences.  When one or both parties resign themselves to dissolve the relationship or reduce the association to a less perfect union feelings of betrayal and loss abound.  All the guts in the world do not cause our losses, disappointments, and failures to go gentle into that good night.  We carry them with us, even after the initial trauma is addressed

“I follow four dictates: face it, accept it, deal with it, then let it go."
~Sheng Yen

Letting go is the hardest part for me.  Part of me wants to find ways to reconcile.  Part of me wants to “be right” and “win” – whatever the hell that means.  But the larger part gets stuck trying figuring out what I did to lose control of the situation. 

Letting go is admitting mistakes.  Letting go is living with past actions, in-action, and miscalculations.  Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting what happened, it means forgiving ourselves for not being perfect and moving on.  In letting go, we dare to step up to the line and do mighty things once more. 

This post is the 3rd installment of a three part series.  See the 1st and 2nd segments here: Dare Mighty Things and 5 Stages of Grief, Plus 1

“Have you ever felt the odds stacked up so high, you need a strength most don’t posses? … I’m not a coward, I’ve just never been tested.  I’d like to think that if I was, I would pass.”  The Impression That I Get, The Mighty Mighty Bosstones  

5 Stages of Grief, Plus 1

This post is the 2^nd installment of a three part series.  See the 1^st segment here: Dare Mighty Things.  Look for the 3^rd and final segment Standing Up and Living with the Fall Out. 

A young friend recently went through an abrupt and painful breakup.  Knowing my recent relationship history, we spent some time talking about the sense of loss and grief that comes from such a parting of ways.  There really is a kind of mourning that takes place in the wake of a damaged relationship (plutonic, romantic or otherwise). 

In some cases the people involved in the relationship change.  In others true colors come to the surface either over time or in the face of stress.  From time to time there is no single reason at all, and relationships end. 

Often times you miss the other person.  Even if you know (intellectually) that you are better off without XYZ – name the behavior, tendency, addiction, vice, stressor – in your life.  We yearn for the “old days” or the “good times,” even if those days are over or they were never that great in the first place.  We are, after all human and divorce, breakups, and failed friendships signal change, which is sad and scary.  So we grieve.

When dealing with grief many articulate the experience within the context of the Kubler-Ross Model or more commonly, the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.     

I’m no expert in psychology or human development, but I pay attention to people.  From my observation and personal experience the five stages are fairly universal for those who suffer loss.  We also know that the model is cyclical with certain phases repeating.  (I had a hard time getting sucked back to the anger stage.)  Recently, I’ve come to think that there should be a 6^th stage – denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance….and singing! 

Maybe it’s my extroverted nature, tendency to perform, or just my Irish-side flaring up, but sometimes there’s nothing left to do but sing.   Sometimes the songs are sad but a funny/bawdy song can help flush stagnant emotions from the soul just as well.  It’s not about being mean, vengeful, or “getting back” at the ones who hurt us by their parting – rather singing helps us face, accept, and deal with trauma, while jumpstarting the process of letting go.  In other words, singing can help us heal. 

In that richest of traditions of troubadours and tavern singers I close with a song – dedicated to all our Ex-es.  To all those who have chosen the company of others over our specific company – let us celebrate our Jubilation Day.  We’re probably better off anyway.

Steve Martin and the Steep Canyon Rangers

“Jubilation Day” from the album Rare Bird Alert

Check out the rest of the album at http://www.steepcanyon.com

9 Months Ago, I Couldn't Walk

9 months ago I couldn’t walk.  My ankle was shattered and I was awaiting the first of my two surgeries to put it back together. 

Today, I ran up three flights of stairs to get from the basement to my office. 

9 months ago, I was married, but in a relationship that was destructive, unhealthy and in which neither party was very happy.

Today, I am divorced, but I’m seeing a woman who has restored my faith that people are as kind, loving and understanding as I know they can be. 

 9 months ago, my family was a group of people I loved very much, and saw as often as possible. 

Today, my family is still my family.  But I realize now, that without their love and support, I might not be here.  (Literally, in one sense, as my parents and youngest sister were the ones that found me in the back yard when I broke my ankle.)  On another level they have been the backbone of support during my physical and emotional recovery. 

It’s no secret that over the past 9 months I’ve been hurt, angry and frustrated over what has happened.  No one looks forward to a major injury or a divorce or any type of traumatic event – yet we all suffer.   Like most who known deep pain it’s easy to get sucked into focusing on the dark side of events.  [Change, fear, betrayal, misfortune, misery, self-pity, self-loathing, guilt, shame, just to name a few.]

In addition to those feelings of pain and suffering, I have also known tremendous gratitude and humility as I’ve been able to rely on my parents, brothers, sisters (including sisters-in-laws), as well as busloads of extended family, adopted family, and friends both old and new. 

In a recent blog post on The Art of Manliness, Brett and Kate McKay speak of the importance of a family culture.  I couldn’t agree more.  My parents built our family into a team, a unit, a group that – even though we don’t all agree with each other all the time – have each other’s back without fail.  The McKay’s identified three pillars of creating a family culture: 1.) Values, 2.) Norms, and 3.) Rituals / Traditions.  I can see each of these elements in my own family growing up.  It is those value, norms, and traditions that have helped me through the most difficult times over the past year. 

General George Patton said that, “No man is unafraid in battle, but discipline produces in him a form of vicarious courage.” 

Life has felt like a battlefield over the past 9 months (longer if I’m totally honest with myself) and it has been the discipline I learned in my parents’ household, which has allowed me to stand resolute and continue on.  At my core, I know who and what I am, which itself is a direct product of how I grew up.  Even when we are shaken to that core by forces beyond our control, the core does not crack.

9 months ago, life seemed pretty up in the air and terrifying.

Today, life still seems up in the air, but I am grounded and encouraged every day by the fundamentals that remain true:  People are genuinely good.   With the support of family and friends you can survive anything.  Whatever doesn't kill you, has to make you stronger (if it didn't make you stronger you'd be dead).  

It may sound morbid, to end on this note, but I hope you can see that there is hope here.  A hope that has been somewhat absent for quite a while, but has finally found it's way home.

This post is dedicated to my parents, brothers and sisters.  I really couldn't have made it this far without you.  Thanks.