Ahhh...Life

With a resolution in its infancy to write in this blog every Monday and Wednesday, missing yesterday's post may seem like an epic fail. Really? I just made this goal last week. How could I miss a post after such a recent declaration to the world? Well, sometimes life happens.

If you live in the Midwest, you know that the weather can be...persnickety. What started as an unusually beautiful 68 degree day in November turned devastating for many in the Michiana area. A tornado touched down in several places causing massive power outages and general destruction, including throwing a tree through the roof of my house as I stood just ten feet away.

I'm not ashamed to say I screamed when an 18-inch piece of barn siding flew past my head as I headed for cover in the basement. Needless to say, my forgetfulness in posting yesterday--with a trip to the State Farm agent, shopping for a generator, cleaning up the inside of the house, and getting a contractor to remove the tree and cover the gaping hole in the roof--is understandable.

 

 



The tasks involved in cleaning up this type of chaotic event give you time to process and find the life lessons. So, here are the things that I learned (or remembered to know) from this craziness.

1. I chose the very best husband in the world (for me). I don't want to imply other people's husbands are not "the best." But my husband is the perfect person for me and I was reminded of it during the tornado. We were watching TV and the wind starting picking up. I ignored it (as I tend to do with anything that might be scary if I think about it too obsessively). My husband did not. He didn't panic, but he was definitely paying attention. He recognized exactly when the wind outside was not normal and sent me down to the basement.
2. Part Two of "I chose the best husband." Not only did he send me down to the basement, but he immediately ran to the bedroom where the dogs were napping in their cages. When my husband and I first met, he wasn't much of a dog person. But because I love dogs, he agreed to become a dog person. Over the years, he has developed a deep affection for our puppies and I learned in this crisis that it wasn't just an act. He loves our dogs...enough to instinctively run for them despite the dangers. When I called my dad later and told him the story, his first response was that next time we should leave the dogs. My husband's response to that ("yeah, right") makes him exactly the husband that I need.
3. The attitude from which you approach a problem makes all the difference. With the immediate danger passed, but the power out and the wind still howling, we decided to spend the night in the basement--just in case. We blew up air mattresses, brought down the blankets, flashlights, bottled water, computers, and cell phones, and set up camp. And "camp" is exactly how I thought of it. We were camping in the basement. We got all snuggled up and continued watching movies until the computer's battery ran out. It was fun and a nice distraction from worrying about the big hole in the roof. By focusing on the fun part, I made it through the ordeal without falling apart.
4. Devastating is all about perspective. It doesn't diminish your loss, but it helps you appreciate the level of severity and appropriateness of your reaction when you step outside of your own small world and see what else is out there. A hole in our roof and no power is terrible. But my father-in-law actually had the tornado touch down on his property. Twenty-five year old pines that he and his family planted together had their tops ripped off or were completely uprooted. He lost over forty mature trees and has tens of thousands of dollars of cleanup, for which his insurance will cover only $500. He was lucky that the house--where he and his wife were protected in the basement--wasn't touched. The tornado was right there in full force and could have easily leveled the house with them in it. Perspective.

5. Last, but not least--there are many ways to deal with problems and the "standard" response won't work for everyone. When we went to the insurance company, they said that since our house was uninhabitable, they would pay to put us up in a hotel for as long as the hole was in our roof and the power was out.  But we have dogs. We didn't want to kennel our dogs after such a crazy experience and live out of a hotel for who knows how long. Once the roof was covered, we decided that we'd rather just rough it at our house. No power or running water, but we live on a creek (for toilet flushing) and we bought a small generator (probably not covered by insurance) for light, electronics charging, and TV. So yes, I have to put a pot of water on the grill and use my French press for coffee. And yes, I have to keep running to the barn for wood to burn in the fireplace. And yes, we are sleeping on the couch in front of that fire, which is the only source of heat. And yes, we wash our dishes and brush our teeth with bottled water and use the shower at the gym. But we are home, and we are together, and we make it work; we count our blessings and treat it like an impromptu adventure. So I learned that we can solve problems together and that "together" (including dogs) is what works best for us. Roughing it doesn't have to be so rough, as long as you meet your most basic needs. Our most basic need is being together...that and satellite TV.

So, I didn't write yesterday. Instead, I experienced life and the aftermath of chaos. And I learned to remember some things that, if not forgotten, are important to hold in the front of my mind to appreciate the amazing gifts I possess.

Old Dog Learning Strategies

Learning to do something new is rarely easy. It can be particularly frustrating when you are very good at the old things, but the new thing...not so much. Even more frustrating is when the new thing resembles the old things to an extent that you believed that learning the new thing would come easy. So suddenly, in addition to learning something new, you question your ability to properly evaluate how long it will take you to learn this new thing. Identity shaken, you start to question your ability to do the old things at the level you've always believed you could do.

That's where the dog comes in--of the female variety--just to blow off some verbal steam. Add familial terms as needed.

When the cussing is done and you inexplicably--yet inevitably--feel better, here are some thoughts, strategies, and general ideas about how to deal with the frustrations involved with learning to do new things.

First, know that as frustrating as this is for you, you are not the only one. Take comfort in the camaraderie of hair-pulling, eye-bulging, stream of consciousness cursing that is learning frustration.

Second, there are two ways to combat new learning: blindly bulldozer your way through it, or take a break until you can see straight. Both strategies can be effective; the trick is knowing which one will work for you, at any given time, and in a particular situation.

Third, tell me about it. No, really. Talking to someone--even if that person has no way to help you learn what you are trying to learn--can be just the frustration relief you need. People say things that get your brain going in different directions; sometimes they are merely distracting, which can dig your train of thought free from its rut. Either way, other people are helpful beyond their ability to help with the learning task.

Fourth, people--in all of their 21st century forms--can also be great sources of information. People post blogs, make videos, and comment profusely online of every topic imaginable. Find a mentor--even in video or blog form--and let them help you learn.

Finally, if all else fails, reevaluate your goals. Is the goal of your learning essential to your life/work? Is there another way to get the same results? Is this something you need to learn? How could you go about achieving the same result differently? Is it worth your time and trouble, or could you pay/bribe/coerce (with something like chocolate, of course) someone to do it for you? How much are you willing to pay (time, money, energy, sanity) and what do you expect to get in return? Then ask yourself, is it worth it? What's the most cost-effective way to do this? Make an informed decision based on your answers, and go with it.

Learning completely new things always comes with frustration. As we build our capacity to handle that frustration, it becomes easier. Students need practice building frustration capacity, as well. As with anything, the more you do it, the easier (and more of a habit) it becomes. Just as adults sometimes need reminders, rut-breakers, mentors, and inspiration, so to do students; since their job is learning, they may need even more reminders, rut-breakers, mentors and inspiration. In the end, if they try all of the above strategies, work hard but still fail, students need to know that it is smart to reevaluate their goals and see if it's worth it to them to keep going. So much of the failure students feel is because they give up. But sometimes, that's the best strategy to take. After evaluating the situation, sometimes it's the only strategy to take. We need to help students face that and recognize that just because you've failed to learn one thing, it doesn't mean that you can't learn anything. It just means that you're human.

Reflect

As I get older, I recognize the need for reflective thinking. Sometimes while traveling the road of life, I forget to think about all the twists and turns in getting to where I am. I am a different person than I was 15 years ago. I like different things, do and say different things, and have different needs. Primarily among those needs is one for security--making house payments, bill payments, and being able to manage my finances so that everything is taken care of. I certainly didn't have that 15 years ago.

And yet, I had something then that I'm missing now, and it's only through reflective thinking and remembering that I can see what's different. There are things that I used to do that I no longer make time for--notice I say make time, since I believe how we spend our time is a choice. There are things that I used to want that I have set aside for when I have more--more time, more money--but that I've forgotten about. There are things that used to make me ecstatic or comforted or content that have slipped through the cracks of conscious thought to settle in the deep recesses and sometimes make cameos in my dreams.

So, I've decided to make time to remember who I used to be, what I used to live, how I used to feel about the world. That passion of youth and energy--I may never have all of it back, but even in small things, remembering recreates the feelings. Of reading cheesy romances in my grandmother's lake house. Of baking in the sun and the warm blanket of exhaustion that follows. Of sitting next to the water and breathing deep. Of listening to live music and feeling bold enough to sing along...and perhaps to dance as well. Of jumping up when volunteers are called for. Of doing things purely for the sake of their novelty. Of throwing flirtatious glances full of meaning. Of valuing freedom and experience more than security.

I will keep reflecting of who I was, who I wanted to be, and what makes me feel the things I haven't felt in a while. I will remember what it is like to be me--all of me. And I will strive to show others this side of me as well. I've grown a lot in 15 years. I've become a much better person in many ways. But part of the growth, of necessity, is making different choices. Now that I have made personal growth, I can appreciate who I was and reincorporate the things that made me happy then into my life now. But I must make the time to do that and appreciate that I'll be making time for a while. Nothing happens automatically--build a foundation. That's enough.