Tag: mental-health

Friendsgiving and community

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

I don’t know about you, but I’m a member of several communities. My family, of course. My town, obviously. My church family. My civic groups. At one time, I was a part of a work community but now in retired community.

And now there’s a new one.

A few months ago, a friend who lives down the road from me told me she had joined the Wellness Center and asked if I wanted to go. I was only too happy to join since I had been a member in the past and with my friend down the road going anyway, I had transportation. I was thrilled to be able to use the weight machines, treadmill, and walking track again, but the biggest surprise was how much I enjoyed the aerobics class.

Back in the day, I took Jazzercise classes and then worked out to those Jane Fonda videos at home, so participating in the aerobics class (I guess it’s a Silver Sneakers class?) was not a stretch for me. Our leader, known as LT, designs classes for all ages and ability levels, but let’s face it–all of us are “of a certain age” with some more “certain” than others. You know what I mean.

The fun of the class, though, wasn’t the only surprise. The second surprise developed rather than burst on the scene. I reconnected with people I hadn’t been around in years and met new people. I started being around former college friends, former co-workers, parents of former students, parents of children who are my children’s ages, and on and on. Soon I realized I was a part of a group unlike any I’d been a part of since college.

For the first time since college graduation, I spend a few hours each week with a group of people who are in or near my age group. Yes, I know, the eighty-somethings are not near my age, but we are all categorized as “senior citizens” whether we want to be or not. And although we come from a variety of backgrounds, we are able to have fun with each other while we work to keep ourselves as fit as we can.

LT does a great job of leading the classes, and honestly, I don’t know how she keeps from laughing at us. As we do the moves, we are definitely not in sync. Arms flying every which way, and some going left when they should be going right, and not to mention how we sometimes run into each other…I almost crack up laughing just looking at the few around me as we try to keep the pace. With her looking at approximately 40 people facing her, she’s bound to be wanting to laugh out loud.

This past Monday, members of the WC gathered for a Friendsgiving. We signed up in advance for what we’d bring (I made homemade bread, in case you’re curious), and the center closed for two hours to allow enough time to set up, eat, visit, and clean up. More than 100 people were there to enjoy the event.

You know, I think small towns get a bad rap. People complain of nothing to do, but in our town of just over 11,000, you can find plenty to do. You just need to look for it and take advantage of what’s offered. I’ll stop right there because that’s a blog for another day.

Back to my topic–ever notice how I get off-track in my blogs??–about community. I think of it as a group of people who share a common interest or circumstance. Think of sports fans, especially college sports fans. My husband has several Vols (Tennessee Volunteers, in case you don’t know what “Vols” means) caps and shirts, and he wears them wherever we go. If we are out of state, I guarantee he’s going to hear at least one person say, “Go, Vols!” Vols fans are a community, even if they don’t know each other by name.

Our common interest at the Wellness Center is to stay (or get) strong and fit. We don’t have to be best friends or share our feelings or any of that. But we can chit-chat, share recipes, talk about great books we’ve read or movies we’ve seen, and even our families. It doesn’t have to go beyond that to be a community, and honestly, I still don’t know everyone in the class. But I’m learning.

One Friday afternoon, I asked my husband to drop me off so I could use the weights and walk on the treadmill since it was too messy to walk outside. I was amazed at the emptiness of the gym. Two other people were there. I did my routine, but I didn’t enjoy it. It was boring not having people go by and greet me or ask me about something. It was boring not hearing the music played during the exercise classes. I didn’t like it.

Yes, I’m a sociable person. I love being a part of multiple communities. And when I can exercise and have fun doing it, I’m in a win-win situation.

If Glenda had not asked me if I were interested in going to the center, I never would’ve known about the classes and likely would not have tried them on my own even if I did. I might have joined the center but would have been limited to going in the afternoons most days since my husband is involved in the mornings with his own community–a bunch of Pickleball players who play three mornings a week–and I would have to rely on him for transportation.

I hope you’re a part of at least one community outside of your family or work. Don’t forget that it takes time to feel a part of a group, but in time, you likely will.

So, in this season of gratitude, I’m adding involvement in communities to my list of reasons to be thankful. My faith that sustains me, my family, my home, food to eat, clothes to wear, friends, electricity, running water…my list of things I’m thankful for is too long to share.

It is my hope yours is too. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

The importance of quiet time in my life

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

That red glow is not from a forest fire. My son took this photo of the Northern Lights last night. He was not in Iceland or Alaska or any of those places we think of when we hear about the beautiful phenomenon. He was at home, right here in Tennessee.

Every once in a long while they’re visible, and I don’t profess to understand any of the science behind why we can see them so far south, but I am awed by them.

Here’s the catch. I can’t see them in real life because of vision loss. So my son took the picture and sent it to me, knowing I could see the beauty of this event on my large-screen iPad or on my 47 inch TV screen connected to my laptop. It doesn’t matter I can’t see them like he can. Just seeing the photo and knowing they were visible in our area is enough to impress. And maybe my friends who ave no sight can enjoy the sight by hearing a description of the photo.

Photo description: A black sky with a red glow behind tall trees. The trees form a line on each side of the photo with an open area in the middle that extends to the ground. The ground, to me, looks completely black. Small lights are visible in the openings between the branch of the trees.

“Here she goes again,” you may be thinking.”Can she never avoid mentioning something about her vision loss?”

Sure I can. And I’ve tried to avoid mentioning it, but since I am fortunate enough that the biggest hurdle I’ve had to jump in life is the vision loss issue, it is my point of reference. I haven’t struggled (yet) with a major health issue. I have been blessed with a wonderful family and friends. So when I think of the biggest challenge in my life, that’s mine. Yours is something else.

I’m bird walking. Teachers know what that term means. Back to the point I am trying to make.

He took photos of the night sky in Sedona this past June, and I have saved them to my gallery. When I was growing up in Arizona, we sometimes went out on the desert at night. There, away from city lights and without the humidity we have in our area, the stars were amazing. Now the lights of the town and the humidity and cloud cover we often have in addition to my vision issues make that experience a thing of the past. On a clear night, I might be able to see one or two stars that are very bright (probably Venus and Mars, right?), but at least I can see the star-filled sky in the photos. Beautiful.

There is something about the sky that is awe-inspiring to me. I look up at it often in the daytime. Sky blue is my favorite color, and the colors of the sunset…well, I just love the sky. Just looking at it brings me a sense of calm and wonder and appreciation. It quiets my soul.

My point? I think we humans often focus on the negatives instead of the positives. It’s human nature, I think, but I do believe it’s worse than it used to be. Blame social media or what’s going on in the world or the higher population (in 1960, the population of the U.S. was 181 million, today it’s 347 million), but it’s worse. We are bombarded with conflicting opinions, hate speech, too many activities to fill our time, and other things that harm our emotional well-being.

My solution? I watch the national nightly news maybe once a week. I watch the local news more often because their stories concern our area. I don’t scroll my phone. True, it’s mainly due to the vision loss because I have to use Voice Over which is not perfect and often annoying), but I check notifications on Facebook each day (usually), post a few times a week as the mood strikes, and live my life in my community as best I can. I stay informed, but I don’t obsess.

And I have quiet time. I sit on my front porch when the weather allows with no noise except for the sounds of nature and the wind chimes when the breeze is strong enough. If the weather is too cold, I find a spot indoors just to be. Just to be by myself with my own thoughts. I pray during those times. I reflect. But for at least fifteen minutes, I have quiet.

Yesterday my husband and I went to a town an hour away to do some shopping since he has no luck with online shopping for clothes and needs to try them on and our town is limited in its offerings. While there in the men’s department, I was touching all the clothes to feel the fabric and discovered some pajama pants that were so soft and warm, I just had to have a pair. Yes, they were in the men’s department, but I purchased a small, and though they’re a little long even for my five foot seven and a half inch self, they are wonderful. Last night, I put them on and commented more than once, “I just love these pajama pants. I wish I had bought more!” Just wearing them soothes me and makes everything feel cozy.

Photos (or descriptions) of the night sky, looking at the daytime sky, feeling the warmth of a comfortable pair of pajama pants, quiet time…the small joys of life.

I still fall victim to the negative mentality at times. I wish I didn’t, but occasionally I slip into that pit of wishing my life were perfect according to the way I see perfect.

Then I go on YouTube and watch the young man paralyzed from the chest down because of a dirt-bike accident and how he navigates life or talk to a VIP friend who has worse vision than I do or no vision at all, and it brings me back to the mindset of being grateful for what I have instead of being bothered by what I don’t.

I guess I sound like someone being preachy or being a counselor, for which I’m not qualified, but that’s not my intent. My intent is to share my own journey and thoughts in the hope it will help just one person who is navigating a difficult path. And I’m writing this because it serves as a reminder to me to practice what I preach. Hey, I guess I am being preachy!

When I was working, I often said working was what kept me sane. The busyness of life kept me from focusing on the worries and disappointments that life throws our way. As a teacher and principal, I was too occupied with school duties to think about my personal situation. Long days that extended into night activities like ballgames made me too exhausted to worry when I got home. Keeping busy really is a good thing in many ways, but I still carved out my quiet time. It was fifteen minutes each morning, before my family woke up, and those fifteen minutes calmed my spirit before beginning yet another hectic day.

There’s a song we sing at our worship services based on a Bible passage whose lyrics include, “Be still and know I am God.” There is a great deal of wisdom in that simple statement.

Be still.

And if your life is not a busy one and you have too much still time, be busy. Oh, my, that’s a blog for another day!

Chances are if you’ve made it this far reading my blog, you are doing so simply because you know me personally or because you can relate. People who don’t relate likely stopped reading after the second paragraph if they even made it that far. And that’s okay.

The holiday season brings joy to some and sorrow to others due to many causes. If you are someone who struggles during this time of year, I hope you can find joy in the little things of life if circumstances have robbed you of the big things. I hope if you’re lonely that you will reach out to someone else who may be lonely so you can help each other. I hope you can know peace.

Best wishes to all, and thank you for reading and/or following my blog. I am grateful for you!

Social media isn’t all bad. In fact, it can be good.

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

Social media is blamed for many ills in our society, and no doubt it has its problems. But like anything else, it can be used for good as well as bad.

It depends on the people using it.

Ordinary, everyday people with no journalism or writing background now have the ability to post opinions, insult others, stir up controversy with a simple post. They write things they would never say to someone’s face and hide behind the perceived protection of a certain amount of anonymity. I think we all recognize that.

On the other hand, ordinary, everyday people with no journalism or writing background now have the ability to share their life experiences, thoughts, and photos of vacations, grandchildren (as in the above–aren’t they just too cute for words?), and even a meal they’re enjoying in a restaurant or one prepared at home.

I prefer the latter group. If you post something political, I won’t listen to it. Remember, I can’t read very well because of vision loss, so I have to use VoiceOver. If I want to learn about what’s going on in politics, I listen to and watch various sources to get a true picture of what is going on. Maybe those sources aren’t telling the entire truth, but your opinion is not exactly correct either. I tend to view all of it with skepticism, but the beauty of social media posts is I don’t have to read them. I can skip them, and I do!

Just as we can skip those posts about grandchildren, if we have no interest in our friends’ grandchildren. Just as we can skip those posts full of hate speech. We can even delete them or block that person. WE are the ones who have control.

When I first joined Facebook in 2i009, I created my account to include my maiden name. I had moved away from the places I grew up, and lived too far away to be in contact with my classmates and friends. Facebook, I reasoned, was a great way for us to find each other. And I was right. Because of Facebook, Judi and I reconnected. Mimi and I reconnected. Many of my classmates, whom I had not seen or talked to since graduation, and I reconnected. It was and is great!

I have used Facebook and other social media outlets to spread information about what it’s like to lose vision and how to cope with it. I use Facebook to share this blog. I’m guilty of sharing my motivational thoughts (I try to say I’m not being preachy, but my husband says some are preachy) because I’m a writer. Not necessarily a professional one. But I’m a writer. Ever since I was very young, I was writing short stories and keeping a diary or journal. Other writers understand. It’s as though the words just have to come out in print, as though I have to type them to sort through them. For writers, sharing our thoughts this way is a form of therapy. And it is our hope our own self-therapy will help someone else.

But I understand the way social media is impacting some people. I understand how addictive phones are for many of you (remember, I can’t scroll stuff the way you do. I am often annoyed by being surrounded by people who are constantly checking their phones, but I’m sure if I had that ability, I’d be doing the same. After all, information and entertainment and communication all in one small device.

I especially understand how social media is impacting young people. When I was growing up, it was the name-calling at school (my particular names from my junior high classmates–and that age group is the meanest age group of all for various reasons–were Twiggy, Four-Eyes, Zipper, and Coke Bottles). Explanation of the Zipper name–Hey, Pam, turn sideways and stick out your tongue, and you look like a zipper! Yes, I was very skinny. Coke Bottles? For those of you old enough to remember soft drinks in glass bottles, you remember how thick the glass on the bottom was. The reference was to my very thick glasses for a very near-sighted me.

But I digress. Back to social media. I could go home from school, cry about the hurtful words, and I could tell my mom about my day, and I could escape it. The access to texting and social media these days make those insults impossible to escape, and far too many young people are suffering because of it. I don’t know what the solution is other than not allowing them to have accounts, and it is a huge concern which I’m not qualified to address.

For me, though, I’m grateful I have social media outlets. For those who live alone and are lonely, it’s a way to reach out to others. For those of us who want to know what’s going on with our friends and family, it’s a great way to share. A loved one has passed away? If you desire, you can honor that person with a social media post. Someone celebrating a birthday? You can share it with the world. By the way, my mom lived to be almost 94, and as she got older, I shared a picture of her and the fact it was her birthday. Numerous people wished her a happy birthday on those posts, and when I shared them with her, it made her day. She loved the attention, and why shouldn’t she have?

Social media, then, is not the real problem. The real problem is the people using it. It’s not the social media platform creating the controversy, spreading the misinformation, or spouting profanities that would not be tolerated in mainstream media. The real problem is the person behind the post.

I skip those posts and even block them. You may not. You may love them and have a desire to interact with them. That’s fine. It’s your choice.

We have a choice. How we use social media, when we use it, if we use it. We have a choice in what we read.

People have been creating controversy for as long as humans have been on the planet. But there have been and are many people who try to make the world a better place.

I like to be around those people. I want to be one of those people.

And I will continue to post pictures of my family, grandchildren, friends, dog, our trips, and about ways to live with vision loss. I will continue to post things about my books, my “preachy” thoughts (I’m preaching to myself as much as to anyone else), and anything else that inspires me.

If you don’t like them, skip them. That’s fine. We all have that choice.

Why I like people as well as mankind

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

In the movie Brown vs. The Board of Education, there is a great line. One of the fighters for integration tells Sidney Poitier’s character about one of the others involved, “He’s a great lover of mankind. It’s people he can’t stand.” Now that’s an oxymoron or paradox whichever way you’d describe it.

Me, I love people. This friend in the photo who did the St. Jude Walk with me in September also loves people. I know because I see what she does. She doesn’t have to tell me. I see it in her generous giving of her time, in the way she takes care of those going through struggles (health and emotional), the way she is always ready to give a helping hand. She has always done this but even more so since losing her husband a little over four years ago. Her grief continues, but she doesn’t allow it to make her withdraw from the world. She’s too outgoing to do that, and she’s too concerned about others.

I’m one of those people she has helped and continues to help. But that’s the subject of another blog.

I had one sibling, a brother nine years older than I was, and in a way, it’s as though our parents raised two only children. By the time I was seven, he was sixteen and working part-time jobs and doing things with is friends when he wasn’t in school. I was the pesky little sister who invaded his room at times or did annoying things. When I was about 17, we developed a close friendship, but it wasn’t the same as if I’d had a sibling closer in age.

When we moved to a town in Middle Tennessee (people from Tennessee understand why I capitalized those two words, don’t think it’s grammatically incorrect), I was almost 12, and we moved to a neighborhood with no kids. Everyone on our street and nearby streets were older with no children living at home. That was a first for me. I’d always had neighborhood friends. Those were lonely years for me. Every now and then a friend came over or I went to a friend’s house, but most days were lonely ones. We lived a couple of blocks from the library, and during the summer months, I walked to the library, checked out five or six books, took them home and read them, and then three days later walked back to the library. You get the picture.

When we moved to a newer neighborhood when I was 15, I had a few friends within walking distance, but the game-changer then was…I got a telephone in my bedroom! How exciting! And when I got my license as soon as I turned 16, the world opened up.

I loved school for the most part. Why? Because I was with other people my age. I was in clubs like the Drama Club, Interact, and more. I was on the yearbook staff. I went to every home football and basketball game even though I didn’t care about sports. Sure, I cheered for our team and found it exciting, but I was there for the social interaction.

College meant dorm life, and I loved living in the dorm. I really did. I loved having friends around me most of the time, and if I mention this dorm and someone who was there reads this, they’ll understand–Ellington Hall. The best!

When I graduated from college and went to work at a local bank, my co-workers were near my age but married. I was single. My roommate had a steady boyfriend who took up all her free time, so, just like those early years in Middle Tennessee, I was bored and lonely when not at work. I looked forward to Mondays and hated the weekends.

Don’t get me wrong. There were and are times I needed alone time. When I was in high school and busy with classes and clubs, there were Saturdays I just wanted to stay at home and do my own thing. When I was teaching and surrounded by hundreds of people every day, there were times I longed to be in a log cabin in the woods, with just my family, to get away from the busyness of life. I used to call those times suffering from “people pollution.”

But, for the most part, I need to be around people almost every day. If I go many days staying at home, even if I talk on the phone to friends and even though my husband is around, I go into a semi-depressed state. Well, maybe depressed is the wrong word. But the days seem so long.

Before you think I should just get out and go on those days, remember: I can’t drive. That is the worst part of losing sight. Once again, that’s a topic for another blog.

I have several friends enduring the hardship and grief of widowhood. I have friends who have lost children. I have friends who are dealing with incurable health conditions. Some deal with their struggles by being with other people. Some withdraw.
Some are open about their loss and reach out to others going through a similar struggle while others remain private.

We’re all different.

I have wished many times I wasn’t as sociable as I am. I have wished and even prayed about being better at being at home most of the time. My mom loved being at home and never wanted her life scheduled in any way except for going to church. I couldn’t get her to go to the senior citizens’ center. She had no interest. Oh, she did love working part-time at Walmart in the fabrics and crafts section. And she was sociable when it came to call ing people on the phone and chatting. She never understood why I wanted to be on the go so much, and I guess I don’t understand it myself.

Yet I do. I honestly like most people. I can count on one hand the number of people I dislike. And I am a great lover of mankind. I want the world to be a better place. I want people to be the best they can be, to live in the best they can for their situation, and I wish all the political division would go away. Fight for what we believe in, but do it in the right away and always with love in our hearts for others. Christians and members of some other religions know what I’m talking about. That, too, is a topic for another blog.

But that same passion makes me struggle with the life I am now living. I am involved in several civic groups and church groups, all of which meet the first two weeks of the month beginning in the fall and continuing through spring. And I know myself. I know during those two weeks my mental state will be good, and I’ll even appreciate my time at home after being involved with those things. But I also know myself well enough to know the last half of each month and the summer months will bring back the restlessness.

I recognize it’s just who I am. I’ve tried to change me, and maybe I will succeed as time goes on. I’m a work in progress. I am blessed with good health, and I know if I were not in good health, I would be fine with being at home most hours of each week. So I don’t want to lose my health just to change my attitude. I had Covid a few weeks ago, and I texted my best friend from my growing up years: “The bad news is I have Covid. The good news is I’m not bored just being around the house.”

The bottom line is each one of us is unique. I often say I’m weird. After all, I am the one who can live without chocolate just fine and am not a huge fan of pizza or hamburgers.

Please don’t misunderstand me. I am blessed beyond measure. I have my wonderful husband and my children, daughters-in-law, and grandchildren, even though my children and their families do not live in the same town so I can see them regularly, and I have all the physical blessings (health, home, etc.) we all want. I know this sounds like I’m complaining. I’m not. I’m just explaining why I feel as I do at times.

My favorite movie is The Sound of Music. I loved it when it came out, and I still love it today. Maybe it’s because of the music. Maybe because of the beautiful scenery. Maybe it’s because of the story.

But I have a feeling it has a lot to do with that nine-year-old girl watching a family with so many children and wishing she had siblings close to her age and the adult she became wishing for the same thing.

Life Lessons Learned from Vision Loss: Maybe They Apply to You

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

We love the Smoky Mountains, so we go at least once a year. However, I no longer enjoy the beautiful scenery as I once did. I can kind of see it but not really, but guess what? I took this photo from the balcony of our condo and with it uploaded on this site and displayed on the 47-inch television I have my computer connected to, I can appreciate the beauty that area has to offer.

I’m grateful I can at least do that.

My vision loss journey was a long one, but it accelerated in 2019 when I started noticing a fog when looking straight ahead. That fog looked like an actual cloud, and it began maybe 100 feet away from me, maybe farther. I could see everything clearly up to that point, and I could see above and below that foggy cloud, but the cloud obscured what I looked at directly.

I was devastated when that happened, but now I can tell you I’d love to be able to see that well again. Now the fog is everywhere. The only time I don’t feel like I’m looking through a fogged-up window is when I look downward. I’m then able, by using my peripheral vision, to see a slice of the world without fog.

I’m not complaining. I’m just explaining. This description ties in with life lessons I have learned. Some may even apply to you.

  1. No matter what you’re going through, be grateful for the good things in your life. That’s easier said than done, I know. If you have aches and pains and wish you could run around like you once did, be grateful if you can still walk on your own. Just like my fog story, your condition may worsen until you are unable to move on your own, so be grateful you can do so now.
  2. Don’t be afraid to learn how to do old things in a new way. We baby-boomers are sometimes resistant to learning technology, but in the world we live in, it is almost essential. No doubt we won’t ever be as comfortable with it as younger people, but I’ve been forced to learn to use Voice Over, speech to text, video descriptions for movies and television (a narrator describes the action), and how to use my laptop by having it connected to the large-screen TV. I use a screen reader to have all sorts of things read to me. If I can do those things, you fellow baby-boomers can learn to do simpler things, right?
  3. Reach out to others who are going through a similar struggle. You may not need their support, but they likely need yours. I have learned a great deal in two support groups on Facebook. I share tips I’ve learned, and theirs. Every now and then someone needs an emotional boost, so it helps with that also.
  4. Trust others. With my inability to drive , I have to rely on others. I can’t see well enough to be a “back-seat” driver, so I have no choice but to keep silent.
  5. Don’t judge someone by his or her appearance. I can’t tell how someone is dressed, how covered with tattoos they are (that is an issue with many in my generation–sorry, it’s just that way, not saying it’s right), or even what kind of car someone drives. I know we all make assessments of others in many ways, but my assessments are based on the person’s tone of voice, language, attitude, and actions. Even with those assessments, it doesn’t take away from the fact that there are many kind, helpful people in this world who don’t fit the social norms.
  6. If you’re sad, cry about it or be despondent, but don’t take it out on others. Biting someone else’s head off just because you’re feeling down and out or bitter is…unkind, selfish, and childish. Sure, we’re all going to have our times that we snap at someone or say something unkind, but don’t think you make the world a better place by making it revolve around you.
  7. Shut-ins are lonely and bored unless their health is so bad they don’t care or unless they are loners at heart. When my husband was working, I was stuck at home many days because the weather prevented me from being outside or walking to town to the library. I was still learning what I could and could not do with the vision loss. That gave me a new empathy for shut-ins. If you know someone in that situation, at least call every now and then if you can’t go by and visit. And if they’re able to get out a little bit, offer to take them somewhere, even if it’s just a drive around the countryside. They’ll let you know if they’re interested or not.
  8. Despite #7, sometimes you just have to get over it and figure things out. It may take a while, but you have to re-adjust your thinking. If you can no longer do things you once loved, find something else. It may take a while to discover it, but if you keep at it, you will find it. I can no longer read books, but I listen to audiobooks and podcasts. I can’t sketch as I once did, so I draw cartoons with a marker. (I’m still working on that one, though, using my CCTV.) I do bad watercolors that are fun to do. I play with Play-Doh. Yes, it’s not just for kids! You get the idea.
  9. Swallow your pride. The first time I accepted a ride with an 88-year-old woman who offered to drive me to a civic meeting, I was appreciative and embarrassed at the same time. There I was, 25 years younger and almost a foot taller, and she was the one giving me a ride. But I accepted because of her kindness. There are times people have to help me by warning me about curbs and things like that, and while it is humiliating to be the one needing that assistance, it’s often necessary, so I just have to accept it and go on.
  10. It’s okay to be down and out at times, but it’s not okay to stay that way. Allow yourself some self-pity moments or cry, but don’t wallow in it. Drowning in our sorrows does no one any good. There are countless people who have endured unthinkable losses, live with unbelievable disabilities, or endure constant pain who choose to make things better for others. Don’t believe me? Search YouTube for Joni and Friends. Find the quadriplegic young woman who is an occupational therapist and demonstrates how she navigates life. Search for someone going through the same difficulty you are.

Years ago, the Serenity Prayer was a big deal. I think still is. Here’s the version I use: God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

And maybe add one thing: God, help me to focus on others more than myself.

These are the lessons I’ve learned. I’m sure there are more I did not verbalize, and you likely have your own lessons you could share. I’d love to hear your recommendations.