Do Something that is Hard - episode 187
Strike a pose. (You likely remember that line from the Madonna song, Vogue.) This week Jessica Stoeckeler challenged us all to strike a confident pose for at least a minute and see how we feel after. You know, stand up tall, shoulders back, chest out and head held high. Yes! There definitely is a physical component to showing up and feeling confident.
And the three things Jessica suggests we do to become more confident:
1) Keep track of your accomplishments (even daily)
2) Do some sort of challenging exercise (I can do anything!)
3) Put on some bright red lipstick (I feel GREAT!)
You can accomplish anything if you try, even hard things. Just ask Jessica.
Jessica has been on the podcast before in I Need Tough Love episode 151.
You are amazing, beautiful inside and out!
— Jessica Stoeckeler, advice to her 10-year-old self
Let’s be in the Delight
Thoughts from Do Something that is Hard
Yes, we can do hard things and we should do hard things. There isn’t much growth or depth of experience if we merely skim the surface of this life. Sometimes hard things bring us great joy: the birth of a child, a creative project brought to fruition, a physical feat that took more than you thought you could give. These all have “happy endings.” What about if the hard thing results in something even harder?
Like when you have to decide it’s time to put your pet down. (Kind of a weird expression but we all know what it means.) Here is an animal you have loved, given attention to, fed and cared for, but now you recognize their quality of life is subpar. So how do you do it? When do you do it?
We’ve made this decision twice thus far. Lacey, our first golden retriever, helped me heal after the death of our infant son, Christian. She had a spleen removed, no big deal, but that followed with seizures and the loss of her back legs. She likely had something really major going on but did we want her to decline more rapidly, and to what end? We made “the appointment” several different times and would cancel with our hopes held captive in some kind of holding pattern that goes nowhere. One final appointment was with our vet coming to the house because she didn’t like going to the vet’s office. We had planned for Ron to take our 7-year old out for ice-cream after school so I could handle this part on my own. The first shot, the second shot and Lacey was gone. The vet, her assistant, and me, all crying. I called Ron and asked him to come home straight away. He did. I had a big hole in my heart that eventually healed because they do. Yet they do leave a scar along with some beautiful memories.
The next dog, Callie lived 13 years. When many tumors were discovered, I told the vet, But I wanted a dog to die naturally (so as not to have to make this horrible decision). She told me that rarely happens. The radiologist-tech told us to go home and enjoy her for the weekend. So lots less time to be stuck in decision-making mode. The appointment made, this time we gathered in a circle in our front yard (Ron, my mom, Shaun and me), some lovely words were spoken, and then the two shots. Lots of tears of course.
Why relive this? Well, our son is now in this same situation. Tomorrow at 4:30, the dog Shaun rescued and has loved, Freddy, will be breathing his last. It will be in our front yard and we will gather in a circle, say some lovely words, and be a witness to his transition. For me it’s an honor to be a part of this moment. It is real life, lived well. The grief we will be feeling is in direct proportion to our love for Freddy, and our love for Shaun.
If we avoided pain, if we did everything we could not to fully experience this life, we would be robbing ourselves of the richness of love, the pureness of joy. You simply cannot have the intensity of the positive without the depth of the negative. That’s what I want to remember tomorrow when we will be called upon to be in the searing pain of the moment, to share it, and to allow what is natural to take its course. Without anguish there is no delight.
Our newest dog, another golden retriever, is Layla. You may have seen pictures of her on these pages. She is part mountain goat, part cheetah, and she loves to snuggle. Layla brings with her, tremendous joy to our lives. And someday it will be her turn to breathe her last in the very same way it will be for you, and for me. It will be here before you know it. For now, let’s be in the delight.
Real life, lived well, has pain because we love.
— RCN
Freddy and Callie, circa 2014
