So you want to be a writer- then write. Anything. Play around with it. Journal. Fiction, non-fiction, biography, obits, blogs, plays, tv pilots, whatever. You will probably suck at it. Keep writing. Write more and more. You will get better, you’ll find your flow. This w
If you feel like you can’t get your act together, that you’re less mature than some others your age, I have the recipe for being a grown up: Read, travel, help those in need.
READ everything you can get your hands on: books, audio books, newspapers, etc. Travel to places that are different than your experience. Keep a lookout for people (or animals, or groups or causes, etc) who are struggling. HELP those in need.
School shootings are a result of blind rage and complete hopelessness.
First, ban the f*cking guns.
But we need to teach our kids how to handle big emotions. To expect them, how learning to navigate them is like learning to fly an F16. It will be tough, yes but you will learn how to fly expertly, safely, and with your own style and flair.
Being accountable means saying that I was responsible for making sure this did not happen - but it did happen. I accept the blame and an prepared to incur the consequences. I will work earnestly to earn back your trust and confidence. The opposite of accountability is to make excuses or blame someone else for your mistake.
Research says working with your hands is good for your mind and spirit. Even if it’s just folding laundry or doing yard work. Let’s find a hobby u might like working with your hands.
Sometimes you’ll be in the wrong side of history. When you discover you’re wrong, move to the right side of history. When I first started training as a nurse it was the early 1990’s. HIV/$@!#% was pretty new. I remember telling my fellow student I would double glove and take any “over the top” precautions I wanted to. That was my fear and ignorance talking. Amazing how cozy self-righteousness makes you feel. I was wrong. Always look at the issue through the lens of humanity.
We struggle so much when we don’t know ourselves. Are you a thinker (creative, big picture) or a doer (meticulous, task-oriented.) Both are great by the way.
What I most want to teach you this year is that you can always trust me. I will always love you, take care of you and never harm you. You may not always like me, but you can always trust me.
No one is ever really ready to be a parent. It’s definitely on the job training!
But I’ll say this: If you’re prepared to put your family’s needs before your own, you’re as ready as anyone can be.
Don’t be a mooch!
Contribute: To your home, your relationships, your work, your community, your church, your country, the world.
Think about how much you get from all these things. It’s so much more from all these things than you could ever pay back, but that doesn’t mean you don’t try.
Dig in and contribute wherever you can. Never free-load. That’s not who we are. Be brave and contribute your talent, treasure or whatever you can. Duty and compassion both demand it.
A lesson from author Tom Zumba. I hope you’ll never need it:
“There is nothing
nothing
easy about this thing called grief.
Nothing.
But I ask you to please
please
please
say yes
more often than you say no.
Say yes to you.
To possibility.
To hope.
To love.
To life.
To healing.
Please choose the light
more often than you choose the darkness.
Not that there aren't gifts in the darkness.
There are.
But it's often so much easier to find them
the gifts
in the light.
Do all you can to stay in the light.
Please remember that the person you love
so
so
so dearly
lived.
Don't forget that.
He lived.
She lived.
Here with you.
And your relationship continues.
Always.
Don't be so overwhelmed
and paralyzed
and pissed off
that he died
that she died
that you spend most of your time
focusing on their death.
Focus on your life.
Together.
Say yes as often as you can.
Choose light as often as you can.
Remember that he lived as often as you can.
Don't lose her in the details of her death.
This thing called grief is hard
hard
hard work.
But you are stronger than you think.
His book is called Permission to Mourn
Like me, you turn to food for comfort. That’s okay to a point, but it won’t help. That hole you’re trying to fill will just get deeper. So if you can’t or won’t stop eating for comfort please consider this suggestion: Do something creative first. Sing, write, paint, run, lift, act, improv, whatever. The hole will be so much more shallow when you go to try and fill it with food. Hopefully, eventually you’ll get to the point of staying in “creative mode” to feel better.
My worst fear is that I will be unable to reach you when you’re in pain. All I want as a parent, what my whole job boils down to, is to be there when you need me. How can I help you?