Delving Deeper – Page 17 – PowerchairDiaries

Who Really has the Power

By Mark E. Smith

I thrive on possessing power. But, not in the way you might think. In my business and family, I, in fact, practice the opposite, seeing my roles as humbly serving others. And, yet, when it comes to me, power is synonymous with personal accountability. I learned at an early age that in order to have power, you must be personally accountable; and, if you’re not personally accountable, you have no power. You can control life or life can control you. It’s initially circumstance, but ultimately choice.

It all started with my failing Biology in high school, namely because I wasn’t doing my homework. I wanted to do my homework, but my home life was a mess. My mother and stepfather made our home Hell. I came home from school each day to my mother in the most horrendous conditions – always drunk, but sometimes high, overdosed, manic, or suicidal – and then my stepfather came home drunk, where they fought and smashed up the house. My mother loved to break things and my stepfather loved to scream, and it made for long nights. On top of that, I was struggling to develop my independent living skills due to my cerebral palsy. How was I to somehow do homework with so much volatility in my life?

I lay in bed looking at my report card one night feeling ashamed because it was dotted with Fs and Ds. I’d worked really hard to be mainstreamed in an era when it wasn’t common practice, and I was watching it all slip away. I tossed the report card on the floor and decided my parents and cerebral palsy weren’t going to dictate my grades. I had the power, not them.

I went from a failing student to the honor roll the next report card period by literally locking my bedroom door in the evenings and letting my parents trash the house and there lives as I focused on my homework. I remember typing my homework while trembling and crying as my mom pounded on my door, screaming. Still, I wasn’t giving her power over my life. My grades were my responsibility – and I had the power to succeed over all.

Those years of finishing high school with A’s didn’t make me smarter, but they did make me wiser. I learned that our lives, in the long term, aren’t dictated by anyone or anything, but us. Circumstances may set us up as victims, but we can choose to be victors.

Righting Wrongs

By Mark E. Smith

From the back of the concert hall, I see my daughter in the very front, standing on the choir risers. Even though the distance is far, we make eye contact and I smile big….

Often, it’s our obligation to make things right. If we don’t, then we, too, are perpetuating a wrong or injustice, further harming others. No, I don’t mean make things right because we’ve intentionally done wrong. Rather, I mean that if there’s a cycle of dysfunction, we must have the courage, wisdom, and tenacity to say, Enough! This destructive pattern not only stops with me, but actually changes with me. It’s a really powerful process where you, as a lone person, can change your life, your family tree, and the lives of many around you.

We unfortunately are cyclical creatures, following the pack. Although we have free will and astounding amounts of opportunity, we rarely use it. We know that our life paths are alarmingly dictated by those of most influence in our lives. The surest way to be a teen parent is if your parents were teen parents. The surest way to become an alcoholic is have parents who were alcoholics. And, the surest way to being a terrible boss is to be groomed by a terrible boss. These risk factors create systemic, generational wrongs – and they go on and on.

And, it’s up to us – and only us – to stop them. No rule book said that because my parents were uneducated, impoverished, alcoholic-addicts, I had to follow that path. Sure, statistics said I would. However, I’m not a statistic. I’m an individual. And, I’ve long known that I alone had the power to right the wrongs in my life – and I continue working at that every day. This is my life and no one dictates its potential but me.

Breaking the cycle isn’t easy. I’ve been there, and it’s a never-ending process. It’s a difficult journey because there’s no road map and usually no support. It’s like walking on ice for decades, where as long as you stay up, you’re fine, and the fear of losing footing keeps you laser focused on every move you make. Yet, the struggle is motivating, righting wrongs is empowering, and breaking cycles is liberating. You may have been born into it, but you can likewise grow out of it. Heritage, genetics, environment, upbringing – you can be more than all of it. Right the wrongs, break the cycles, and live to your potential.

…And, my daughter – born to me, where my examples of fatherhood were grim and bleak – smiles back as the choir begins to sing.

Confessions of a Bad Alcoholic

To John, February 5, 1951 – July 24, 2010

By Mark E. Smith

If you’ve read the research of recent years, then you probably already know about me: I’m an alcoholic.

Indeed, the medical establishment has concluded that alcoholism is hereditary – that is, if your family tree is lined with drunks, you’re a drunk, too. Or, you’re at tremendous risk of being a drunk. Walking past a bar or liquor store is like a metal shaving passing a magnet – it wants to suck you in!

For me, being an alcoholic is torturous because I think it’s the only thing I’ve failed at. I mean, I’m a bad alcoholic – really bad. My parents, grandparents, great grandparents and probably their parents were great at it. I mean, my mother and father had it down to a science – it’s not easy losing everything, including your life. But, me, I’m a terrible alcoholic. I’m so bad of a drinker that I haven’t drank today, nor did I drink yesterday or the day before or the day before or the day before or the day before….

But, my alcoholism even gets worse, pathetic, really. I’ve never hidden bottles, lost jobs, sobbed, Please take me back, ruined a wedding or child’s birthday party, bathed in cologne, slept on the front lawn in my clothes, wondered how my car keeps getting smashed up, vomited blood, feigned vertigo, passed out with a lit cigarette and burned my fingers, lied to everyone about everything, stole money from my child’s piggie bank, stood with belligerent narcissism before a judge, drank because of this or that, drank vodka from a water bottle at church, hugged a tree while the Earth spun at tremendous speed and I urinated on myself, or explained to a bank teller why my signature doesn’t match. Yes, I’m a terrible alcoholic.

However, here’s what I’m really good at: a little thing called personal accountability. Unlike the color of my hair, hereditary doesn’t dictate jack squat when it comes to my being an alcoholic or not. Life gives me free will to choose my path. And, while I understand the science, it’s 100 percent my choice to drink or not to drink. My mother did nine months in jail due to her third DUI, and upon being released, she stopped by a liquor store on the way home and downed a pint of vodka. Time and time again, I’ve watched people around me choose to re-elect life-destroying alcoholism, while others choose sobriety (and the science behind addiction recovery shows that the only time alcoholics maintain sobriety is when they literally choose to).

In this way, I’m among the worst alcoholics you’ll ever meet because I’ve turned my back on my own heredity.

The Truths of Time

By Mark E. Smith

On Walnut Street in downtown Philadelphia – an upscale shopping district lined with cafes – I’m let into a watch store by a security guard. It’s not an ordinary watch store. In the display cases are literally millions of dollars in watches – Cartier, Breitling, Rolex. I stroll by them casually, with no interest to stop and gaze in the cases.

I have my own watch, which was a gift. I don’t get many gifts, so this watch is especially meaningful to me. No, it’s not a Cartier, Breitling or Rolex. But, then again, I can’t put a value on its sentimental value, so maybe it’s more valuable than any watch in the glass cases – at least to me.

I’m greeted by a woman, and I explain to her that I need my watch band fitted. She gets a gentleman from the back, and he’s glad to help. As he sits at a desk and removes links from my band, I know that his hands rarely touch such a watch as mine, nowhere near the cost of even the least expensive watch in his store.

“I really appreciate your adjusting my watch,” I say. “I realize that it’s nowhere near the level of watches that you sell.”

“Any watch that tells time is a great watch,” he replies with a sincere smile, handing me my watch to try on.

With my watch fit to my wrist, I head back out onto the bustling sidewalk of Walnut Street. It’s as diverse of crowd as you’ll find anywhere. And, I’m struck by the profound words spoken by the gentleman at the watch shop. He really wasn’t just talking about watches, but the people who wear them. Think about how, as a society, we label everyone like watches – labels that often dictate a person’s status – from the wealthy to the homeless, the African American to the Irishman, the gay to the straight, to me, one with cerebral palsy. Yet, we’re all just watches, aren’t we? And, as the gentleman at the watch shop summed up each of us with such humility, Any watch that tells time is a great watch.

One Morning in the Bathroom

By Mark E. Smith

Sometimes, vanity and modesty are voided by the realities of everyday life beyond our control, albeit disability, age or illness, and in those harrowing moments – wanting to stop time so that no one knows what we’re trying to hide from all others – we are forced out from our facades and have to ask for help, where our deepest vulnerability suddenly becomes our ultimate strength.

Kids Be Kids

By Mark E. Smith

As a classically-trained writer, I understand words – their efficacy or impotence, the way they twirl off of the tongue and echo in the ear. Words are powerful, captivating, emotive. And, sometimes, words are defining, both in the positive and negative.

For some time, as a writer, as a parent and as one with a disability – but, really, just as a person – I’ve been struggling with three words that we use to define what I’ve come to know as an ambiguous, possibly specious term: special needs child.

I, of course, understand our social definition of a special needs child, that of a child with a physical, emotional or intellectual disability. But, is it – special needs child – a logical term to use? I mean, I’m not questioning it from a political-correctness or ethical perspective. I simply question if the label is logical?

And, I don’t think it is. After all, have you ever met a child who didn’t have special needs? Of course not. If we truly acknowledge what each child in our life needs, every child is a special needs child. There are eight children in my close family, and they’re all so unique in character and at different stages from one another that each one has special needs. Why only project “special needs” onto children who have disabilities when every child clearly has special needs?

The label also represents a type of reverse discrimination that’s unfair to all children. If you’re with several children in public, and one has a disability, adults often fawn over the child who has a disability and ignore the other children. Yes, such adults mean well, but they’re doing more harm than good. Such situations inadvertently patronize disability and ignore others – everyone loses.

Instead, let’s see kids as kids. Each is special and unique and has needs, and should be recognized as such. Most importantly, let’s drop the labels altogether, and just let all kids be kids.

The Tortoise Mindset

By Mark E. Smith

No matter how many times I’ve read Aesop’s fable, The Tortoise and the Hare, the tortoise always wins. Logically, at some point shouldn’t the hare win? After all, the hare is physically faster.

The answer is, no – not in the fable and not in life. Aesop, a slave in ancient Greece in the 5th century BC, was onto something: Dedication and perseverance always pay off in the end. Think about every aspect of your life, from health to career to relationships to finances – does taking the easy way ever work in the long run?

Never. The University of Wisconsin did a study (one example of many) on how long it takes to get in true physical shape. After six weeks of rigorous training, there were no results seen in the sample group; three months showed progress; but, it wasn’t till one year, then four years that there were significant physiological changes. Everyone wants a quick fix to shed those pounds and have six-pack abs, but there’s no such thing. However, you can absolutely do it if you have a tortoise mentality, where dedication and perseverance will pay off over years.

Want to be a millionaire? Maybe winning the lottery, flipping houses or playing the stock market is the ticket. No, the hare loses again. In the U.S., tortoises get rich. The average millionaire is 57, works over 50 hours per week, has a graduate degree, and is first-generation wealthy. What’s been their number one wealth-building tool? Saving 20% of their monthly take home pay over their career. Put simply, you get rich over decades, not overnight.

Of course, in relationships, the hare must win, right? Love at first sight rules all. Statistically, not so. See, your odds of staying married increase if you date for at least a year before tying the knot, and those who get married around age 30 are much more likely to stay married than those who get married younger. Want the healthiest marriage? Be a tortoise and take things slow and steady.

I live and work in the world of disability experience, where challenges abound for many of us. And, what I’ve learned is that rehabilitation doesn’t stop when released from the hospital; rather, it’s truly just beginning. There are no quick fixes, and some skill sets – from the physical to the emotional to the mental – can take decades to master. Heck, every morning I still work on the coordination needed to tie my shoes and button my pants– after over 30 years of trying. Yet, it’s the tortoise mindset that keeps us striving. If we simply stay dedicated and persevere, we will succeed in one way or form. It can take 20 or 30 years, but success will come.

The examples go on and on, but here’s the point: there’s literally no secret to success. Success isn’t luck of the draw or magic. We need only to look to Aesop’s fable of the tortoise and the hare – a slave’s philosophy from ancient Greece – to know that success is a marathon, not a sprint.

The Effort of Faith

By Mark E. Smith

When I look at the three biggest challenges that have spanned my adulthood – writing, disability and romance – there’s a common denominator that forever keeps me pushing forward during both highs and lows: Faith.

Now, I don’t mean faith in religious terms – although, many people do, and that’s great. Rather, faith for me is belief, it’s an innate understanding that no matter what I face, I will pull through ultimately to my own betterment – that is, the light will be brighter at the end of each tunnel.

Faith for me, however, doesn’t function on its own. Faith directly correlates with effort. When I was in my early 20s as a young writer, my rejection ratio by magazine editors was around 20 to 1. For several years, my mail box was a literal daily dose of rejection, seemingly indisputable proof that I was failing as a writer. Yet, I simply had faith and I used all of that rejection as inspiration. I knew I wanted to write and I had faith that I could make it as a writer, so I put effort behind my faith and went to college to learn formalities and hone my craft. It’s taken over two decades, but my closet shelves are now lined with over 1,000 formal publications that I’ve been published in, plus all of my books and countless essays from the web. I went from spending my days seemingly writing for the sake of rejection to now editors offer me assignments. The factor of success has been having faith that I could be what I believed, and then applying the effort to become that success.

Disability and romance in my life have followed the same faith-based path. At many points individuals, situations and society have told me that I’m lesser, that I couldn’t achieve based on my disability. But, my faith has ultimately had the final vote. Dismiss me or count me out, but my faith assures that in the end, with effort, I will overcome. I may face challenges, but my faith dictates that I will succeed in the end in spite of them.

Of course, the struggle to find enduring love is a universal, epic one. Think about the canon of literature, art, music and movies that address our desire for enduring love. And, I’ve faced that struggle, too. Yet, I’ve had faith that as long as I live my best, with effort and awareness, enduring love will sustain itself in my life.

I put it this way: Life is a roller coaster – the highs are exhilarating and the lows are frightening. Yet, there’s a surefire way to even out the course. It’s called faith. With faith, and effort behind it, it’s impossible to get emotionally mired in even the bleakest situations because no matter what all signs may tell us, there’s only one truth: We will ultimately overcome. Have faith, put effort behind it, and believe that you are intrinsically capable of living the life of your dreams.

Working Class Hero

By Mark E. Smith

John Lennon coined it, and I’ve always believed in living it – as a father, as a bread winner and, yes, as one with a disability: A working class hero is something to be.

See, to me, a working class hero isn’t about a literal vocation or social class, but about drive and determination. Are you strong enough every morning, regardless of the challenges you face, to put your boots on and go into your day willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done, with little reward beyond knowing you’ve done right?

And, like I said, this purest form of heroism isn’t about vocation or social class. Yes, the roofer who’s on a roof in July, working 12 hours a day with 130-degrees radiating around him, all to support his family, is a literal working class hero. But, so is a full-time single parent. And, so is one sustaining sobriety. And, so is one thriving with a disability. Although each of these examples are very different – and you can insert any life path into the list that requires internal tenacity to succeed – they all demonstrate an extraordinary work ethic, they all demonstrate quiet, dignified heroics in everyday life.

And, there’s a certain rebellion to being a working class hero, where when life presents roadblocks that others don’t have the strength or courage to knock down, you utter a barely audible F-you, and fight your way through. Working class heroes punch adversity in the face and proceed on.

I want to introduce you to a working class hero of mine, Scott Belkner, who puts on his boots every day and just goes to work. There’s no one motivating Scott but Scott. He’s not someone you know, no fame or money. But, he demonstrates an internal work ethic that demands respect, that sets the bar for how so many of us should approach our lives.

Watch Scott’s story, and I bet he becomes a working class hero of yours, too.

All Hat, No Cattle

By Mark E. Smith

As a writer, I have a profound distrust for words. Yes, there’s an honest place for them in the literary sense in that they’re tools of the trade, including this essay.

However, on an interpersonal level, words carry little weight, where actions, in fact, don’t just speak louder than words, but are the only true measure of one’s character. If you want to genuinely know someone, ignore what they say, and look at what someone does.

Now, when I say judge one’s character by actions, not words, I don’t mean the small stuff. We all innocently say to others sentiments that may not hold true, but that doesn’t reflect one’s core character. Plans change, other obligations pop up and sometimes we simply forget a task we’ve agreed to perform. These don’t reflect our core character, but rather being human. As hard as I try to stay organized, the volume of tasks in front of me each day sometimes means that I forget something that someone needs – it happens to all of us.

Rather, I’m talking about core character traits, where one’s overall actions define who one truly is, not one’s words. A great example that I can relate to is being a father – that’s not about words, but actions at the most fundamental level. Fathers will boast how much they love their children, yet not be involved in their lives. How can one claim to love one’s child, but is absent? It’s a contradiction where we have to go by the actions, not the words. We know a father truly loves his child when he’s involved and present in his child’s life. If you want to know the quality of a father, observe what he does, not what he says. This likewise applies to everyone around us – that is, if you want to know the quality of one’s character, simply observe one’s actions.

I read a great book, The Gift of Fear, years ago and it spoke to avoiding becoming a victim of crime. The author spoke to never, ever trusting anything that a criminal says. As the author noted, if a man puts a gun to you in a mall parking lot and says, “Get in your car, and if you do what I say I won’t hurt you,” don’t get in the car, as statistically if you do, you’re going to end up dead. If someone puts a gun to you, he or she is demonstrating extremely dangerous behavior, and you can’t trust anything he or she says.

The same goes for our personal lives. How many of us have had others say that they care about us, but demonstrate the complete opposite? We simply can’t trust the empty characters of those whose actions don’t match their words, or worst of all, hurt us. And, it’s not hard to figure out. If one’s flowery words follow a pit in our stomach, then there’s something wrong. People who truly care about us don’t just say it, they demonstrate it consistently.

And, have you ever noticed that those who criticize us are always – and I mean always! – the least qualified to do so? Successful, healthy people don’t criticize others. Rather, it’s always someone like your uneducated, out-of-shape, broke, alcoholic in-law telling you all that’s wrong with you. Again, consider the source, and if one’s actions don’t match one’s words, there’s zero credibility, so never lend an ear to such criticism. To use a Texas idiom, never put faith in someone who’s all hat and no cattle.

Of course, we’re not exempt. We, too, should live by our actions, not our words. Let us lead with our actions, not merely spout what we think sounds good. As parents, saying we love our children is not enough; rather, let us show our love with presence, dedication and engagement. As partners and spouses, let us not merely utter the words I love you, but let us demonstrate it with attentiveness, respect and passion. And, as leaders in our career fields and communities, let us not simply boast of our abilities, but let’s truly accomplish tasks and serve others. Indeed, let us live our lives not based on rhetoric, but based on our demonstrated efforts.

In these ways, the cliché is true – and life-changing. Not only do actions speak louder than words, but actions pretty much say it all. If you want a true gauge of those in your life – as well as your own integrity – ignore words, assess actions, and let that be the true measure that drives your relationships to the healthiest levels.