the whole is greater than the sum of its parts: an open letter to my family and friends

It’s hard to believe I moved to Jackson, MS 4 years ago today. It’s hard to believe that my life is my life when I really stop and think about it. I don’t have to go into specifics (I’ve already written plenty of blogs about that) but my life was indeed, very different 4 years ago than it is today.

4 years ago I didn’t have a penny to my name, I had lost yet another job, I had been evicted from my apartment, and I had very few friends who would still speak to me.

The best thing my Dad ever did for me was kick me out of his house. After years of trying to save his daughter, he did the only thing that was left and the very thing he should have done years before.

When I threw my few belongings in the back of my Xterra and drove the overly familiar route to Jackson, I had no idea what was in store for me. I had no intention on staying sober. I just wanted to stop hurting. In all honesty, what I really wanted was to just disappear.

4 years ago I had no idea that what I would find in Jackson, MS would be myself. I had no idea that I would get my shit together (for the most part), stay sober, go back to school, become involved in a community of amazing people, find a church home, live on my own, get out of debt (except school loans of course), dye my hair red, then back to blonde…….

However, the biggest obstacles I had to overcome really weren’t the external ones. They were much more internal than I realized. I never thought I would ever be emotionally stable, I never thought I would be comfortable in my own skin and I never thought I’d really learn to let things go. But stretch by stretch and inch by inch, I have.

My mom always tells people that it has taken a village to raise me and it’s so true. It’s taken several communities and villages to teach this girl how to live.

I believe that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts (good ole Gestalt psychology). When applied to my life, it means that the entirety of my life is greater than just me.

I’ve flourished the past 4 years because of the people that are in my life. All the people past and present have each given me the invaluable gift of themselves. I am overwhelmed when I really sit down and think about all the love I receive on a daily basis from you all. Every text, phone call, smile, visit, meal that I share with you fills my heart to the brim. Just being in your presence gives me the hope and courage I need to keep on going.

So today, I honor you. To all the people that make up both my inner circle and larger circles, thank you.

Thank you for being my friend; thank you for making me laugh; thank you for calling me out when I’m being completely and utterly ridiculous; and thank you for reminding me that sometimes it’s okay to be completely and utterly ridiculous. Thank you for holding my hand and jumping with me over hurdles that always appear too high, but never actually are.

In short, thank you for loving me—even when my flaws are glaringly present. But most of all, thank you for not giving up on me. You probably have no idea how much you mean to me but I will tell you this, if everything I had fell away in an instant, I would be okay as long as I knew that I had you by my side.

These past 4 years have only been possible because of you.

Thank you for making my life so meaningful and so much fun to live; thank you for infusing my life with more joy than I ever thought possible.

This day belongs to you.

Today, I celebrate you.

Here’s to the next run around the sun.

As always,

Yours,

J.E.N

*to read my posts from years 2 and 3 click here and here*

what my parents have taught me about love and relationships

Yesterday my parents celebrated their 33^rd wedding anniversary. December 8, 1979. My mom was 29 and my dad was 30. They lived in Memphis, TN and although they attended the same college (University of Tennessee at Martin) they didn’t meet until almost 10 years later at Bellevue Baptist Church. My mom was a school teacher (kindergarten and first grade) and my dad was in the Navy and had just gotten accepted into medical school.

Both of my parents come from humble beginnings. My dad grew up on a dairy farm in a little city called Dresden, TN and my mom grew up in Memphis, TN where my grandfather worked for the railroad.

Everyone loves my parents. Whether they’ve met them once or grew up near us, people continually stop me and tell me how much they love my parents. The older I get, the more I see what an absolutely amazing feat 33 years of marriage must be. I’ve really never known another couple like them.

I was born during my dad’s first year of medical school. And they went on to have both my brothers in med school/ residency and then my sister was born the first year my dad actually started working as a Dr. He was 40 years old.

My parents will be the first to tell you that it’s been a rough road. It hasn’t been 33 years of pure bliss or anything like they imagined it would be. It’s been hard. It’s been a struggle and I’m sure they’ve thought about throwing in the towel several times over the past 33 years.

The difference between my parents and most everyone else (including myself) is that when they made a commitment to each other 33 years ago, they really made a commitment. My dad will tell you that the reason they are still together today is because divorce was not an option for them. No matter what.

  My dad has told me countless times the story of their courtship/romance/marriage. Those early morning jogs with my dad taught me a lot. He told me that he was a Navy party boy who drank and smoked too much and when he moved to Memphis to attempt to get into medical school, he realized that he had to change because what he was doing wasn’t working. (sound familiar?—yep, I’m much more like my dad than most people realize). He always tells me how scared of commitment he was and that he frequently asked himself if he was dating the “right” girl and even if marriage was for him or not.

Eventually he took the plunge and asked my mom to marry him. He said he prayed about it and realized that my mom had two qualities that were high up on his list—those qualities were that 1) she loved God and 2) she loved life.

The secret to my parent’s long-term marriage is this: They made a vow before God to honor and love each other through the good times and through the bad. Their marriage hasn’t been based on their feelings for one another. I can assure you that there have been multiple mornings when they didn’t “feel” that spark that was once there. I’m sure their love life wasn’t always “steamy and hot”. I feel confident that throughout their marriage both of them were attracted to members of the opposite sex at times and I’m sure that there were many mornings when they questioned whether or not they made the right decision.

But the difference is that they didn’t base their relationship on feelings, sex, promises, money, appearances, security—they based their relationship upon spiritual principles that allowed them from making those “feelings” or thoughts about sabotaging their marriage from becoming a reality.

They’ve worked hard at their marriage. They’ve worked hard at learning to fall in love over and over again. They’ve learned from each other, grown with each other, and figured out life together. My parents are best friends. They are not only married to each other but they would rather hang out together than with anyone else (except their kids, of course).

In this day and age, that type of commitment and dedication is rare. Over half of marriages fail because one of the parties decides they aren’t happy and that they don’t “feel” the same way they did when they first got married. My reaction to this is “well, tough shit.” If I based my actions on whether or not I was happy or unhappy, I’d never follow through with anything. Feeling happy is a great thing, don’t get me wrong. But when you come right down to it, what does “being happy” even mean?

I won’t go off into my usual Jennifer tangent about the meaning of happiness  but seriously—when people tell me they are unhappy in their marriage or their relationship and they can’t pinpoint exactly why they are unhappy—then Houston, we have a problem. And chances are, more than likely, that problem is themselves.

I know, I know--you’re right. I’ve never been married. Not even close to being married. But I’ve been in a lot of relationships and I continue to watch and observe everyone around me who is in one.

Watching my parent’s relationship has taught me this—we can’t seek happiness from our spouse or partner—we just can’t. If our happiness and reason for living is based on anything other than ourselves, we will always fail. We’ll be unhappy in every relationship we enter.

Happiness will always come and go. Passion will always come and go. Our sex lives will wax and wane. We’ll have feelings for people who aren’t our spouse; We’ll question whether we married the right person or are in the right relationship; We’ll say things we don’t mean and we’ll also say things we really mean but shouldn’t have said; We’ll face all kinds of trials and all kinds of joy; We’ll both admire and respect our partners and also find them disgusting and boring at the same time.

This is life--in all its many forms. I don’t know why people think marriage would be any different. I don’t care who you are, at some point in your life, you will experience everything in the paragraph above. You may think you’re different or your relationship is different but trust me, it’s not.

My personal theory is that whomever you’re with is the right person. I do not believe there is one “special” or “unique” individual out there for all of us. I think that whomever you’re with is that “special” or “unique” person. And if you don’t think they are, then you’re going to waste the rest of your life trying to find something and someone that doesn’t exist.

Marriage is no walk in the park. My parents have shown me that. They’ve also shown me what happens if you continue to stick it out and work hard in your relationship; they’ve taught me that when life gets tough, that doesn’t mean you get to run away; when things get ugly, you don’t have to hide.  You have to show up whether you feel like it or not.

So next time, before you decide to get married, divorced, end a relationship, or start a relationship—remember my parents. Remember that if you really want to make your relationship work, you can. Remember what I always say about feelings: what we know about feelings is that they change—constantly. So do yourself and your partner (and future partners) a favor and remember this.

My parents have left us a most amazing legacy.

I only hope that one day, I will be able to have this type of relationship--a relationship that isn’t based on self but on selflessness—a relationship that is based in reality and not in fantasy—a relationship that is rooted in deep love and understanding.

Congrats, mom and Dad! Here’s to 33 more years!

honest moments

I love Friday mornings when I don’t have school and I get to sleep for more than 5 hours because my body knows it can relax because the stress of the week is over.

 I love that I can lollygag and drink coffee and surf the web for hours and not consider it unproductive or wasteful.

 I love that my biggest problems today are that my house isn’t clean and that my laundry isn’t done.

 I love that all my relationships with others are good and that drama isn’t a part of my life anymore. 

I love that I genuinely don’t care of what other people think of me.

 I love that I didn’t wake up with any regrets about yesterday or the day before.

I really like that my feelings no longer control my actions or consume my thoughts.

 I really like that it’s supposed to get cooler this weekend. 

I like that if there is something I don’t like about my life or about myself that I know how to change it. 

I like that I don’t live with constant “should haves” floating around in my head. (Ex. “I should have gotten up earlier and run 5 miles.” “I should have not eaten that bowl of ice cream last night”. You get the point.)

I love that I can embrace the fact that on the spectrum of perfection and worthlessness is being human --and that is where I am today.

I love that I can look at everyone in my life as my teachers—and that I have the insight to remind myself to stay teachable.

I love that I don’t have to figure everything out today--that I get to only concern myself with what I’m going to do for the next 24 hours.

I’m thankful that I woke up this morning with this perspective on life.

And lastly, I’m thankful that I woke up period.

Happy weekend, friends! 

blessed are the flexible...

.…for they shall never be bent out of shape.

One of the traits I most admire and respect in people is their mental flexibility. I believe that it’s the hallmark sign of an emotionally healthy and mature person. What gets us most bent out of shape is our expectations. We expect things to go a certain way and for people to act a certain way and when things don’t go as planned or when people don’t act like we think they should—we get upset. We get frustrated and angry and throw a fit like a 2 year old. Yet if you step back from any situation and change your perception and ask yourself, “Does this really matter in the grand scheme of things?”—I think you’ll find that the answer is always no. It doesn’t really matter. It’s usually never a life or death matter. It’s a matter of changing the way you view things.

I think being mentally inflexible isn’t something we’re often aware of. Our professor changes something on the syllabus or forgets to tell us something about a test and we FREAK out. Why? Our professors are human. They make mistakes too. A friend makes dinner plans with you two weeks in advance and then cancels on you 15 minutes before you walk out the door. Throwing a fit isn’t going to affect your friend. It’s only going to affect you. You realize there’s been a miscommunication with your co-worker and you completed the wrong paper work for a client. Blaming your co-worker might make you feel good for a few seconds but why not change your perception and realize that it’s just not that big of a deal-- even if you wasted a few hours. You can either choose to look at it as “wasted time” or as a learning tool. 

Earlier this week I had movie plans with a friend. She told me I could choose the movie. I chose Argo. I’ve been dying to see this film and had been looking forward to seeing it for days. I needed a strong, emotionally resilient film for the state of mind I was in. I didn’t want to see a quirky, weird, independent film. I usually really like those—but not that day. I wanted to leave the theater with that feeling of triumph.

Yet I looked at the wrong times for the theater we were going to. I looked at the time for the movie showing on Lakeland. But we went to Madison. When we got there the movie was sold out and had started 20 minutes before. Without any hesitancy I said, “Well what’s playing in the next few minutes?” and lo and behold another movie was playing that we also wanted to see (Seven Psychopaths) and so we bought tickets and continued along with our plans. Although the movie was weird and quirky and I did not leave the theater with feelings of wonder and amazement about the human race, it was a funny film and I enjoyed spending time with my friend.

The Jennifer a year ago (and possibly a week ago) would have been put out that she wasn’t going to get to see the one film she was dying to see. She would have pouted or sulked and possibly looked up times for the same film at other theaters. (ok I’ll stop the typing in 3^rd person).

But I didn’t. I really didn’t think too much about it. And it wasn’t until the movie was over and we were walking out of the theater that I begin to process this. And then I realized what I’ve really been trying to learn the past few years is how to be mentally flexible. You can call it “go with the flow”, “compensation” “adaption”…there are many words that mean the same thing. But it all boils down to being able to cope when things don’t go the way I want them too. Being able to adapt and change my perspective because that keeps my quality of life high. The more time I spend thinking about what should have happened or what could have happened is time that has been spent in the past and not the present. It serves no purpose. It doesn’t allow me to enjoy my life because I’m thinking about something that went awry. 

Why is it so hard for us to stop, realize what’s going on, accept that there’s nothing we can do about it, and then move forward? Why does no one do this? Why have I just started doing this? My life would have been SO much easier if I had started realizing this and practicing this before now. But it’s just now really dawned on me that this is what I’ve been working towards for the past 3 years.

I want to be mentally flexible. When things don’t go my way, when people cancel on me, when my family and friends disappoint me, when I don’t like the movie someone picks or the place to eat someone picks, or when my hypothetical boyfriend and I have a misunderstanding. I want to be able to stop. Realize what’s going on. And I want to ask myself if this really matters. And 9 times out of 10 I bet it won’t. And then I want to shift my attitude and perspective and say, “carry on”. 

That’s my goal.

If you see me get bent out of shape (and I’m sure you will because heaven knows I’m not perfect) then I hope you also see me adapt and change my perspective and quickly resolve whatever misunderstanding or expectation that existed in the first place.

You don’t have to throw a fit. Or if you do that’s okay. But you don’t have to allow it to change your attitude and affect your entire day. You are responsible for your actions and words regardless of the way you feel.

So let’s start a revolution and strive to become mentally flexible. The real test will be the next time someone lets you down or your expectations are shattered or someone cancels on you….how will you react? I don’t know—but let’s just try being flexible and see what happens next.

“Nothing in the world is more flexible and yielding than water. Yet when it attacks the firm and the strong, none can withstand it, because they have no way to change it. So the flexible overcome the adamant, the yielding overcome the forceful. Everyone knows this, but no one can do it.”

Lao Tzu 

thank you, mr. jones

I do believe we're all connected. I do believe in positive energy. I do believe in the power of prayer. I do believe in putting good out into the world. And I believe in taking care of each other.

~Harvey Fierstein 

I've been “working” in the acute care unit at UMMC this week. And by “working” I mean “following an OT around observing” what our job looks like in acute care. I have thoroughly enjoyed being out of the classroom but I can’t say I've enjoyed being in a hospital. I’ve worked on the neurology floor all week—I’ve seen a variety of stroke patients and because we typically see the same patients each day until they are discharged, I've gotten acquainted with several of them.

I’m going to tell you about one in particular.

Mr. Jones (not really his name) came into the acute care unit about a week and a half ago due to an ischemic stroke which affected his entire right side. He’s about 47 years old and every day when we go into his room to work with him, he’s always so motivated and ready to take on whatever challenge we give him. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get better”, is something I’ve heard him say a dozen times this week.

Our therapy sessions consist of transitions (supine to sit—sit to stand) and forced use of his affected extremities (that means forcing him to use his weak side). Mr. Jones cannot lift his right arm at all. It hangs like dead weight beside him and because he’s also lost sensation, he can’t tell where his arm is in comparison with the rest of his body—meaning, he could be sitting on his wrist and not even know it—which could easily lead to a broken wrist, fingers, etc. He cannot hold a fork in his right hand, he cannot brush his teeth with his right hand, getting dressed is almost impossible because not only can he not use his right arm, he can’t use his right anything. He can’t stand without assistance, he can’t walk by himself, he can’t go the bathroom by himself—and even if that were possible, he couldn't wipe himself.

(The good news is that with lots of therapy, Mr. Jones will be able to regain a lot of independence and has the potential to return to a high functioning level which means that his quality of life will eventually be very close to where it was before.)

Today when we walked in Mr. Jones’ room for his therapy session, he was curled up under the covers in the bed. The blinds were closed and the room was dark. When we asked him if he was ready for therapy, he replied “Not today. Maybe tomorrow”. This was unusual because he’s been so motivated this week. We asked him if he was in pain and he said no. We went through a series of questions to try and figure out what was wrong and finally the truth came out. Mr. Jones didn’t want to participate in therapy today because the gravity of his situation had sunk in and become real.

Mr. Jones— this very funny, smart, strong. and brave man-- will never experience life the way he did before his stroke last week. His life will never be the same. He will no longer be able dress himself independently. He will no longer be able to drive himself to the store. He will no longer be able to work on his car or cut his grass. Everything about his life has drastically changed. It feels as if every time he looks in the mirror he’s living a nightmare. His face looks different. His smile is different. His entire world is now a completely different place.

And when the OT explained to Mr. Jones that these feelings of depression and frustration were normal and that we understood how incomprehensible this kind of transition was—Mr. Jones broke down. He pulled the covers up over his head and sobbed. And at the time, I didn't let it affect me because (unfortunately or not) I’ve learned to compartmentalize my feelings, yet tonight when I sat down to write notes from the day, it hit me like a brick and I could not stop the tears.

Not only am I grieving for this man who will never return to “normal”…I’m grieving because this man has no support. In order to discharge someone from the acute care to inpatient therapy, there must be a person—family or friend—who will volunteer to care for the patient. And the reason Mr. Jones isn't in inpatient therapy yet is because no one will step up to claim him. No one will say, “yes, I’ll learn to take care of him because he can’t live on his own”. No one has come forth to say that they will help this man learn to live with this disability and so as a result, Mr. Jones lies in a hospital bed all day and night long waiting to see what his fate will be.

If no one steps up to claim him, he’ll fall through the cracks—meaning that he will probably be placed in a nursing home and end up contracted and unable to ever move on his own because without therapy, he will never regain the use of his right arm and leg.

So the real issue here is the support system. With a support system, Mr. Jones could lead a fairly decent, functional life. He can re-learn to walk and he can re-learn to dress himself and eventually he may even be able to drive! But without a support system, Mr. Jones will never be able to walk independently; he’ll never be able to feed himself or dress himself much less use the bathroom by himself.

And he’s so young! He potentially has another 30-40 years to live! But now he’ll be living with no purpose and no passion. This is one of the reasons suicide is so high among stroke patients. Their quality of life is drastically different than before.

So as I sit here tonight reflecting on my day and week in the acute care unit—my heart goes out to Mr. Jones and all the other Mr. Jones’ that exist in situations like this.

People, take care of your family—whether you like them or not. It truly does take a village to keep each other going; Take care of your friends; Remind yourself that in a blink of an eye, this could be you; Remind yourself not to take one single moment for granted—because the people that you love are going to experience disabilities and impairments and eventually death.

Mr. Jones, this goes out to you. Thank you for reminding me why I want to be a therapist. Thank you for reminding me not to take one single second for granted. Thank you for reminding me that my good health and ability to walk, sit, and run are denied to many. Thank you for reminding me that the human spirit and body are resilient beyond belief. Most of all, thank you for allowing me to re-learn this lesson: To hold tight to those you love—because tomorrow, all of that could change. 

lydia, this one's for you...

 (Belhaven circa 2003)

You know that feeling when you meet certain people and you just know they are going to be in your life forever?—and there’s never a moment of doubt that they will love you no matter what?

(If you don’t then just imagine that you do)

That’s how I feel about my Lydia Grey Gamble.

I could and should write a book about our adventures through life together…

I met Lydia when I was 19 years old—she was 17. We met at a coffee shop in Franklin, TN where I was visiting my other dear friend, Liz. We had a brief encounter and discussed our current love of L’Abri—a place I had just gotten back from and the place she was headed to.

Fast forward a year.

I remember I had just turned 21 and was a student at Belhaven….i was outside of a building when I heard my name…I looked up and saw none other than Lydia walking up to me. I was very happy to learn that she had just moved to Jackson and was also a student at Belhaven.

I won’t go into every detail of the past 11 years of our friendship but I will tell you this…

Lydia and I have experienced and are continuing to experience life together—the good parts of life and the not-so-good parts.

(Louisville, KY 2005)

Lydia has experienced every major milestone in my life. She was there when I fell “in love” and found my first “real” boyfriend; she was there for most of my birthday parties; she was the one I called whenever something good happened—and especially when something bad happened. She was there for me when my heart was broken—she endured the entire length of my drinking career—and somehow came out with even more love for me.

One of my favorite memories is smoking hash together at Laurel Street Park. Remember that?!

And I’ve been there for most of her major milestones. I was with her in Nashville for her 21^st birthday (and oh what a birthday party that was…); I threw her 22^nd birthday party at my house on Hazel street in Jackson; I was there the day she found out her parents were getting divorced and I was also the first one she called when she met her first “real” boyfriend in New York.

Lydia’s 27^th birthday (last year)

Since Lydia has been the jetsetter, I’ve had the privilege of visiting her during her many moves. The visit that most sticks out in my mind was the trip to New York. There are several funny stories I could insert here but I’ll have to come back later and fill you in…

(New York 2008)

I never dreamed when I moved back to Jackson that she would also end up moving here a little over a year later.

Words will never be able to adequately describe how I feel about Lydia.

She is much more than just a friend—she’s more like a sister that you always want by your side.

She and I are peas in a pod. You definitely don’t ever get one of us without the other.

And did I mention she’s the most talented person I know?! Good grief—I could write a whole book on Lydia The Artist (kind of like Prince except not).

She and I are really more like a small gang—so watch out, men;)

Lydia, I am so happy that you are in my life. I’m so happy that God saw fit to place us in each other’s lives all those years ago. I have loved living the past decade with you and I can’t wait to see where this next decade leads us. I may not be sure of much but I am sure that you will be by my side no matter what happens. And vice versa.

 Here’s to you on your 28^th birthday. I’m so so glad you were born.

I love you very much.

2010

2011

2012

3 years

3 years ago today I moved to Jackson, MS.

I had no idea what I was doing or where I was really going but I knew I had to do something different because I absolutely hated myself and my life. 

 I think it’s safe to say that this is no longer the case. 

Slowly but surely I started to care again—and I found new meaning and purpose to my life.

 I wouldn’t change anything from my past—I really am so grateful to all the people that have journeyed with me on this path...both past and present. 

I hope the way I live my life shows, more than my words, what I’m all about.

Over the past 3 years I've learned how to be almost 100% comfortable in my own skin—I care about others enough that I try to live my life in a way that causes the least amount of harm (yes, I still eat meat).

In the past 3 years, I found the life I always wanted to live.

I’m more happy than I ever imagined I would be.

I would say out of all the things I've learned, the most life-changing lessons have been these:

1) Never make assumptions
2) Don't take things personally

 I’ve also realized that my mindset has the power to determine what happens.

 If I’m determined that a situation is bad—then it’s going to be bad. If I’ve predetermined something is going to be hard or painful or negative—then it usually is.

We attract into our lives that which we expect.

Today I expect good things---for me and for all my family and friends.

I am eternally grateful.

But for the grace of god...

Jen

To read more about my journey click here and here

*I can’t thank you all enough for continually pouring your love on me. Thank you for all the calls, texts, lunches, dinners, and flowers I’ve received to commemorate my special day—but most of all, thank you for being my friend. My world is so full of so many amazing people that when I really sit and think about it, it always brings tears to my eyes.