Tag Archives: anniversary

A Lost Year: Reflections On My Coronavirus Anniversary

“Reality continues to ruin my life.” –Bill Watterson, The Complete Calvin and Hobbes

“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo.  “So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.” –J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

Hello friend,

Last weekend, my daughter had her State Basketball Tournament.  On our way home on Sunday afternoon, we got off the highway and were heading down the frontage road when she chimed in from the back seat: “Hey Dad, there’s the last restaurant we went to!”  It took me a second to jar my memory, but finally it clicked in.  She was right: there beside the road was the T.G.I.Fridays we had gone to with her teammates and their families on the day her State Tournament ended last year.  The realization was a sobering one.

Last year.

With my daughter’s words, my mind was transported back to the first few weeks of March 2020.  The quickly escalating tension and concern.  The constant monitoring of the news for case updates and closures.  The immediate fear of contracting the virus and losing loved ones.  And what seemed like the worst at the time: the overwhelming sense of dread and inevitability as I watched the two biggest things occupying my mind head straight for each other like two runaway trains on the same track: my long-dreamt-about family beach vacation and the exponential spread of the coronavirus toward the point of national lockdown.

I remember how desperate I felt to get to that sunshine and warmth so I could immerse myself in the saltwater that always seems to make me whole again.  I remember how irrational my thoughts became as the numbers rose to the point where it should have been obvious that the vacation was simply not going to happen.  Things were beginning to shut down, and the dominoes kept falling.  My son’s State Tournament, scheduled for the weekend after my daughter’s and just a couple days before our trip, was canceled.  I begged the Universe for some loophole to appear that would allow us to go.  I was willing things to be different, so obsessed was I with that vacation.

When I finally faced reality, I remember sitting on my bed, breaking the news to my kids.  It was a heavy night in our house.  They were so disappointed.  We all were.  It was terrible.

And that was only the beginning…

As we got deeper into March, a bizarre new way of life emerged at my house.  School was shut down, only to be later restarted in a less-than-ideal way at home through devices.  I scrounged for toilet paper, but otherwise we avoided stores, restaurants, and even our own jobs (which we were grateful to keep as others were losing theirs).  It was a surreal new world to occupy, but the sacrifices made sense in order to quickly move out of the danger zone and back to our version of Normal.

From this view now, it seems odd that we imagined that the return to Normal would be quick.  But we did.

One memory of those very early days that stands out in my mind is of watching a news show and hearing projections about the damage the novel coronavirus could cause if we—as regular citizens and our elected leaders–didn’t take the right steps early on in its days in America.  I specifically remember them saying that it could potentially kill 70,000 people here.  I thought, “NO WAY!!! That will NEVER happen!  (But maybe the outlandish number will scare some people into behaving well for others in their communities.)”  Seventy thousand.  What a fantasy that sounds like now, as we recently blew by the half-a-million milestone and are still allowing 2,000 Americans to die every day from the virus, even as we continue to loosen our restrictions on gatherings and mask-wearing in many states.  Oh, America…

After that crazy start, April arrived and seemed to stay for about 87 days.  As an introvert, I felt like I had spent my whole life preparing for the forced isolation and quiet.  It was just fine with me.  At first, the “family time” and “break from organized activities” were relatively easy to sell to my kids.  It grew less easy over time.  They understood the seriousness of the virus and how each person’s behavior affected the entire community, so they accepted how disciplined my wife and I demanded us all to be.  Still, seeing the unmasked neighbor kids wrestling in their yards with friends and other too-large neighborhood gatherings of adults made them wonder (justifiably) why other people got to cheat the rules.  We can see now where all that cheating got us.

May was much like April—long and solitary—except that the warmer weather made getting out of the house for family walks and bike rides easier.  We all appreciated the diversion.  And outside, we could actually see other humans walking and riding as well, evidence that we were not alone on the planet, even if we couldn’t interact with them.

Summer is totally my season, and I had long been planning lots of adventures for my family for the 2020 Summer.  We were going to take camping trips and many trips to the lake.  To top it all off was to be a huge, cross-country roadtrip that included tons of sightseeing as well as visits with family and friends.  The kids were the perfect age for it.  It was to be one of those trips we would always talk about when we got together over the course of our lifetimes, forever family memories.  NOPE!  Canceled, canceled, canceled.  Thanks to some family members committed to keeping safe, we were at least able to get to the lake to be with people we love.  As I look back on the year, that time at the lake was the closest thing I have felt to Normal in the last twelve months.  It was fantastic, and maybe something I will never take for granted again.

For my kids, other than their four-guest, outdoor birthday parties, if they wanted to spend time with friends, they had to stay on their bikes and talk while riding around the neighborhood.  A far cry from the “just go out and play” days of the past.  Childhood, interrupted.

Despite the rolling disappointment of the muted previous seasons, Autumn came around too soon, as it always does for me.  Things like school and organized activities kind of halfway started, at least for some kids, including mine.  It was like coming into the kitchen as a full batch of cookies is coming out of the oven but only being offered a single bite.  Unsatisfying.  But it was something.  For the beggars we had all become over the previous several months, we clung to it desperately.

But then, of course, it ended.  Schools and activities shut down again as cases and deaths skyrocketed.  We were back to a fully muted life again, this time just more accustomed to it.  Holidays that we have always celebrated heartily, like Halloween and Thanksgiving, came and went with just the four of us hanging out at home.  The kids got lazy and addicted to screens in the absence of school and sports.  We were determined to still get outdoors whenever we could, searching for energy and inspiration in a time when those were in short supply.

Winter continued the theme, as our lives seemed a bit frozen in time for a while as the virus kept us under its thumb.  Slowly and tentatively, activities resumed.  Eventually, games began to be played—fully masked and short of breath–and talk of a return to in-person schooling in some form.  When school did resume recently, it was still the partial version.  Half-schedules and no lockers for older kids, eating at your desk for the younger.  There is no doubt the kids were glad to be back, but of course, it is not the same.  Not as free.  Not as fun.  Just like everything else.

And now, here we are again in March.  A full year into this COVID lifestyle and about to miss yet another Spring Break family beach vacation.  I cannot think about this past year without shaking my head.  It is involuntary.  I cannot even begin to explain how deeply disappointed and frustrated I am with everything about this situation.  The fact that we are a year out from the first deaths in this country and are still erasing 2,000 more people every day just makes me sick to my stomach.  The fact that I have essentially lost a full year in my fleeting life feels thoroughly wasteful.  I feel like I have been robbed.  I’m sad about it.  But I am also angry.  I am sick and tired of shaking my head.  At spineless or inept politicians failing their moral duties.  At yet another milestone marker in cases or deaths.  At people in the grocery store with their masks down below their noses. Or people going on vacation.  Or going to bars and restaurants.  Or refusing to get vaccinated.  Or leaving the house when they are sick.  Or complaining about how tough the guidelines and restrictions are when they aren’t even following them anyway.  My neck is sore from all of the shaking, I swear.

Let me be clear: I am well aware that my family and I have been extremely blessed during the entire pandemic and over the course of this awful year.  We have been healthy and connected: never got the virus and didn’t kill each other.  We have had paychecks and food on the table.  We are lucky, and I am deeply grateful for that.  I have made the best of a best of a bad situation.  And I can honestly say that I have been happy all year.

But not fulfilled.  Not enjoying my work the way I normally would.  Not getting all of my itches scratched for adventure, travel, laughter, and human connection.  Not free.  Basically, just not living my best life.  Pandemic living is just so awfully dimmed and muted.  I resent the dullness of it, how little there is to look forward to.  It is so unlike glorious, regular Life.

That stinks.  Because like I said, I am not getting any younger, and my years are flying by.  I don’t have any extras to just throw away anymore.  There is too much I want to do and feel, and too much I want to share with my kids while they are still kids.

So, I feel like I’ve been cheated this past year.  Every day going forward from today in which it still feels unwise to travel and play and hug and look deeply into a friend’s eyes while we share our deepest thoughts, I will feel even more cheated.  And not simply because there was a global pandemic.  Bad things happen; I get that.  Things don’t always go my way.  So yeah, the coronavirus has been a bite in the butt.  But I feel more cheated by my fellow countrymen.  My neighbors and co-workers, my family and friends.  And yes, my elected leaders.  Collectively, we Americans have behaved horribly regarding COVID, completely failing the exam.  Our federal policy was nonexistent (though I must say we did well in developing a vaccine quickly).  Our state policies were not strong enough.  But mostly, it was just the regular folks in our communities—our friends and neighbors–who were unwilling to sacrifice for one another.  As my co-worker likes to say, ”They never should have told Americans that wearing a mask (and wearing it correctly) was to protect others.  They should have led with, ‘The mask is only to save yourself.’”  Other countries were amazing.  There were plenty of examples to look to.  The keys to beating the virus back were not secret.  We just didn’t do it.  And we are still, a year later, not doing it.  That really makes me mad.  Sad, too, because I hate to think so poorly of my country and my countrymen.  But I do.  Because we could have beaten this thing by now.  We should have beaten this thing by now.  It disgusts me that we haven’t.   And that I am still counting.  I am thoroughly disappointed.  I have been that way all year long.

How about you?  What are your strongest memories and takeaways from your year dealing with the coronavirus pandemic?  Open up your journal and your heart, and wander back through the last twelve months in your mind.  Go ahead, begin at the beginning.  What was happening in your life in March of 2020 as things started to get real with the virus?  What were the first things in your world to get disrupted?  Which plans did you have to cancel?  What was your level of fear and tension around the virus itself?  How upset were you with the sudden changes in your lifestyle?  Do you have a personality that flows well with change and chaos?  Which aspects of “lockdown” living did you appreciate at the time?  Did you miss your routine?  Your loved ones?  Stimulation?  How was your job affected?  In those early weeks of the lockdown, how long did you expect your life to be significantly disrupted by the virus?  How many people would you have guessed would die in your country?  Did those expectations of length and severity color the way you have viewed the pandemic the rest of the way?  At what point in the year did you feel optimism about the possibility of the virus getting under control soon?  Mid-Summer?  Early Autumn?  Ever?  How disappointed are you in the way things have gone?  What would you say is your distribution of disappointment, anger, frustration, umbrage, fear, and sadness?  How wildly does that distribution vary from day to day?  At whom do you direct the bulk of your ire regarding the duration and depth of this fiasco?  Elected officials?  God/the Universe?  Regular folks not following the basic safety rules?  Does your answer vary from day to day on that one as well?  When I look back now over this letter to you and how I have described life in the last year, I see words like muted, disappointed, desperate, bizarre, dimmed, wasteful, sick-and-tired, frozen in time, tentative, slow, quiet, solitary, halfway, sad, and surreal.  What adjectives come to your mind when you think about your lifestyle of the past year?  Ten or twenty years from now, how do you think you will look back on this time?  Will this have been the worst year of your life?  Where are you with it right now?  Does the presence of the vaccine, even if you haven’t received it yet, make you more impatient about getting back to the life you once had?  What are the things you will try to keep from this COVID lifestyle?  If you could give some advice to the person you were one year ago about how to make the best of the year that would come, what would you say?  If you are like me and mostly feel like you have been robbed of a year on Earth, what will you do differently when we finally emerge from the pandemic to either make up for lost time or just make the best use of the time you have left?  What is the most important lesson you have learned?  Leave me a reply and let me know: What will you take away from your year with the coronavirus?

Onward and upward,

William

P.S. If this letter resonated with you today, please share it with your community.  We must learn in order to grow!

P.P.S. If you like to examine your life both broadly and deeply, consider purchasing my book, Journal Of YOU: Uncovering The Beauty That Is Your Truth, at your favorite online retailers.  Namaste.

A Golden Life: Reflections on My Parents’ 50 Years of Marriage

DSC_1086“Falling in love is easy, but staying in love is very special.” 

Hello friend,

Over the recent holidays, I got to spend several days in my childhood home. The place still feels like a haven for me. It cradles me. I love its energy, its vibe. Around Christmas, though, that calming influence is mixed with utter pandemonium, as 20+ people, a few dogs, and a cat all share the space every hour of the day. It is a circus. A delightful circus, but still a circus. The tendency is for the days to whirl by in the madness, and suddenly I am in the car again, heading back to the uncertainties of “real” life and away from the place that still fills me with the comfort and security of a child in his parents’ arms.

This time, however, even amidst the chaos, I couldn’t help but pull back a little bit and take stock. I had a few moments—when the decibels were at peak level as all the kids tore into their presents, or as the multiple conversations criss-crossed at the three tables (one for the adults, one for the teens and people like me who don’t want to grow up, and one for the little kids) at Christmas dinner—when I simply sat back and appreciated the overwhelming swirl of Love and community that filled the house. It was truly awesome. I couldn’t help but notice myself mouthing the words “Thank you” as I looked on in wide wonder. I was humbled by the gift of a seat at the table amongst such beautiful souls. What a family!

Of course, when I think about my family and its remarkable run of happy togetherness, the road leads swiftly and certainly to my parents. The part of this trip that made it extra special was that we all got to share in their 50th wedding anniversary. FIFTY YEARS! Even as I write the words, the concept astounds me. Fifty years of marriage. I was patting myself on the back when my wife and I hit twelve years last Summer. I guess we better pack a lunch!

I have spent a lot of time thinking about marriage in the last couple of years. My own, my parents’, and the concept in general. I think about how tough it is to make marriage work, why so many of them fail, and why some people stay in them long after they should probably be gone. I have seriously pondered most of the couples that I know. Gradually, though, as my study has progressed, I have spent more and more time thinking only about my own parents. They have become the example.

For many years in my adulthood, I wondered why in the world they stayed married. I wanted what was best for my Mom, and frankly, I just wasn’t convinced that being married to my Dad was a healthy thing anymore. Alcoholism lays waste to most things in its path. It is clear to me why most relationships with an alcoholic end badly. Some disastrous combination of untruthfulness and hurtfulness wears the other down until there is nothing left but to leave or be lost.

I once asked my Mom if she was thinking about cutting ties and moving on. From her reaction, it was clear that the thought had never even occurred to her. Her only goal was to get my Dad feeling well again. She knew that the magnificent man that she had married when she was only twenty years old was still in there, that he just needed some help to find himself again. And she was darn sure going to be there every step of the way. Encouraging him. Comforting him. Challenging him. Holding his hand. Loving him. And always, always believing in him. In them.

I have to admit that at the time, I just couldn’t see it very clearly. I would have cut and run, not wanting to go down with the ship. I am hypersensitive, so lies and hurtful words and acts turn my heart in a hurry. I was always amazed—but also dismayed–by my mother’s capacity for patience and forgiveness. There were definitely moments that I wanted her to stand up and shout, “ENOUGH!!!” And I thought less of her for not doing so.

I see it differently now.

As I said, I have been thinking pretty hard about this lately. I think about my parents at that time and how miserable it seemed from my view on the outside. And then I think about them now and how happy and in love they seem, so grateful to be growing old together. I realize now that I was wrong and my Mom was right. She took a lot more than I could take, and a lot more than I wanted her to take. But in her seemingly unending love and patience—and more importantly than that, in her unyielding belief in her husband and in her commitment to him—she was able to weather the storm and carry them back onto the road, where they now walk hand-in-hand to their Happily Ever After.

There are a couple of things I take heart in when I think about their long journey, and in particular about the storm. First, even though I am sure she would do a few things differently, I am even more sure that she would carry his burdens again if need be, and that her belief in him and commitment to him would never falter. And second, I know he would do the same for her.

This is how a marriage works.

I am thankful every day that I was born to these two amazing people. I am thankful for the way they raised me, the love and self-confidence that they instilled in me. I am thankful for the way they have supported me and my siblings as we have endeavored to live meaningful lives and build families around their model. I am thankful that my kids get to love them and learn from them. And I am thankful that, amidst all of my ponderings of the difficulties of marriage and the many ways that marriages fail, I have a shining example of how marriage succeeds, of how marriage is meant to be. I only hope that I can follow their lead.

How about you? Who are your greatest relationship role models? Open up your journal and examine what it is about the couples you know who are doing it right. What characteristics do they have that makes their relationships work? Do both parties have that characteristic equally, or one more than the other? Do their personalities and skill-sets complement each other? What makes some relationships last where others fail? Is it the depth of commitment each person makes? It seems that people in my parents’ generation felt more of a moral obligation to marry for life than is expected in the current generation. While you can definitely argue that that doomed many people to remain in unhappy relationships, what do you see as the upside of that moral obligation? Is my mother’s resilience and willingness to weather the storm a byproduct of such a morality? Do you see that as a good thing or a bad thing? If you are married now, how confident are you that you will make it to the end of your lives together? If you aren’t married, does the poor success rate of marriages make you more hesitant to marry, or does that awareness not play a role in your confidence? How happily were/are your parents together? Are they a good role model for you in the marriage department? What about their relationship do you most want to avoid? What do you most want to emulate? Do you expect to live happily ever after with someone? Leave me a reply and let me know: What would people say about your relationship 50 years from now? 

Let Love Rule,

William

P.S. If this made you think about your life, pass it on. Let’s build a community of self-aware people!

What I’ve Learned In 12 Years of Marriage

DSC_0230“It is not a lack of love, but a lack of friendship that makes unhappy marriages.” –Friedrich Nietzsche

Hello friend,

Today is my anniversary! Twelve years ago, in front of a small group of loved ones on a gorgeous Saturday, I vowed my friendship and love to an amazing woman. Near the end of the vows, I said, “It is my intention to be with you forever….” That’s everyone’s intention, right? So, why does it seem so rare that people actually pull off this trick of staying married forever? Beyond that, why is it even more rare to stay happily married forever, with the friendship and love still flowing? Well, I’ve only been at it for twelve years, so I can’t claim any great expertise or mastery on the topic of a lasting marriage. But, at least at this point, it feels like we are ready to press on to our Forever, walking the Road of Life hand-in-hand. I sure hope so.

Marriage is a challenge. Whoever tells you otherwise is a liar. For almost everyone I meet, I can, within a few minutes, tell you about a dozen reasons why I would not want to be married to them. It is simply a challenge to live cohesively with someone for any extended period. It is why, for most of us, we love it when our friends or relatives come for a visit, but we also secretly love it when they leave.

And I am the worst. There is no way I could be married to me. I am spoiled. I hold everyone to very high standards. I am opinionated. I am stubborn. I am sure that I am always right. And, possibly most challenging in a marriage, I am hypersensitive; I take everything to heart. All of that makes for a combustible mix of “Difficult to Live With”. I would not wish me upon anyone. My wife, needless to say, is a saint.

I never thought I would marry. Before I met my wife, I was too blissful in my singlehood to think of marriage as an option. I just liked being alone and devoting my life to personal improvement: learning and growing spiritually and intellectually. I guess I thought marriage would stifle that learning and development. As it turns out, marriage has taught me a few things that no amount of book-learning or meditation ever could. For a guy who naturally prefers solitude, twelve years in a marriage—and nearly seven as a father—come with lessons that are only understood intellectually but never mastered, that must be re-learned and practiced every single day.

The first lesson that I practice—and fail at—every day is the importance of continuing to act like my partner’s best friend and biggest fan. I think so much of this lesson that when I was asked to officiate at my sister’s wedding a few years ago, I chose it as the main focus of my sermon. It is easy in the euphoric beginning to be the biggest fan and the best friend. The “in love” part is still in full effect, and the personality and behavioral idiosyncrasies—as well as their contrasting viewpoints on what cleanliness looks like, how much time with in-laws is enough, how to spend your money, what to watch on television, how frequently to have date night (and “date night”), where do your shoes go when you come inside, and how to raise children, to name a few—have not been in your face EVERY SINGLE DAY without pause. The challenge is to be able to pull off the “How would the biggest fan act?” and “How would a best friend act?” every day, even while swimming in the pool of all these potential triggers. The lesson I am learning—and trying to remind myself every day—is to ask those questions and be sure that I can answer with my head held high. It is a challenge.

Another daily challenge of a lesson for me in my super-sensitivity is to not take umbrage at every seeming slight or unfairness—“Why do I have to cook so often?” or “Why don’t you acknowledge me for all I do?” or “That comment was passive-aggressive”—because letting all of that stuff stick only makes you bitter and more thin-skinned the next time, as though you are always building a case against your partner. Building a case against them—just like “keeping score” on the dishes or the cleaning or the gifts—is a recipe for disaster. It only makes you more resentful, and only makes them more defensive and distrusting, seeing your love as conditional. I am all for communicating your needs and letting your partner know when they have hurt you—I need to work on that one rather than writing it in my journal—but I have definitely come to see what a terrible waste of energy it is to hold onto every little grievance, or even to take them seriously. Choosing every one makes you a constant victim and makes your partner feel like they can’t do anything right. Neither of those roles is fun to play.

One role that is good to play is Yourself. I am learning—and trying to put into practice—the lesson to let your partner be who they are, even the stuff you would rather change. Challenge them, sure, and help them see if they are being destructive, but sometimes you just have to understand that they aren’t there for you to mold them. Just love them and accept them. Affirm that you love unconditionally. Feed whatever parts work for you while still accepting the rest.

Probably the greater lesson that binds these other lessons together—and actually bonds each of our individual lives together—is the supreme importance of CHOICE in all of this. You have to CHOOSE the right attitude, CHOOSE to be forgiving, CHOOSE to be a fan, CHOOSE to not be petty or snarky. It seems way easier to let a marriage drift into unloving, spiteful oblivion—which I believe it would do if left to its own devices—than it is to CHOOSE to do the daily work of cooperating, forgiving, and supporting. But what do you want? You have to do the things—CHOOSE the things—that get you what you want. If you want marriage to work, CHOOSE to do the things that make it work. Of course, it still requires your partner choosing to do the same, but start with yourself. You have control of that much.

Yes, as a grizzled veteran of twelve years in the marriage game—were those the easy dozen or the difficult dozen???—my takeaways seem to come down to some really simple concepts: appreciation, forgiveness, acceptance, and the absolute necessity of choosing the right attitude. Hey, those sound like my takeaways from LIFE! Oh, what a tangled web we weave. In the end, good principles transcend all institutions and never go out of style. I can only hope that I have the fortitude to keep these lessons front and center for all of my days to come. If I can do that, I can earn my “happily ever after”.

How about you? What lessons do you take from your most intimate relationship? Open up your journal and dive deep into what makes it go and what makes it stall out. How equal is your partnership? If you had to name a percentage, how much of the load do you feel like you are carrying when it comes to keeping the relationship going? How much of the physical load (e.g., keeping up the house, taking care of kids, etc.)? How about the emotional load? Financial? Is one of you clearly the rock, or does that role get passed back and forth depending on the situation? How long have you been in this relationship? If you had to guess, is it going to last until death do you part? How confident are you in that guess, and what dictates that level of confidence? How good of a job do you do at being your partner’s biggest fan? How about their best friend? Are you doing better or worse at it now than you used to? If worse, why do you think it turned? What can you do to better act like the biggest fan and best friend? How sensitive are you to perceived slights by your partner? How much do you feel like you are keeping score against them and building a case? Does that serve you in any positive ways? How well do you do at allowing your partner to be themselves? How consistent are you in the attitude you choose for the day? Do you usually go more positive and forgiving, or do you tend toward the negative and unforgiving side? What principles guide your relationship? How is that working out for you? If you could choose other principles—(hint: you can!)—what would they be? Do you think it’s up to you how long and strong your relationship goes? What’s your prediction? Beyond just lasting, what have you learned about how to make it happy? Leave me a reply and let me know: What have you learned, and how far is that going to take you? 

Go and love,

William