helping others – Page 5 – PowerchairDiaries

One Person at a Time

By Mark E. Smith

If there’s one principle I’ve learned in my 20-year career, it’s that you can have a tremendous impact on a global scale by simply serving one person at a time.

Somehow a mythology has evolved over recent centuries that in order to have a notable impact on the world, we have to do a single, epic act: invent electricity, cure a disease, write an ageless book, or any number of extraordinary acts that win a Nobel Prize.

However, that’s not, in fact, how we change the world. The fact is, if you look at the way the world’s changed over the past 100 years, it’s been by far because a single person had the vision to change lives of individuals one at a time.

We’re not a country of advanced automobiles because Henry Ford magically gave every person in America a car at once and changed the world. Rather he sought to build a car that individuals could buy, one by one, and individual lives changed, ultimately creating a cumulative effect. Fast forward toward the end of the 20th century, where personal computers fueled by Gates and Jobs, among others, and we saw the same process, where PCs were adopted by individuals one by one, where slowly the movement changed our lives. Now, in the present, look at Facebook – 1.59 billion users didn’t just pop up, but joined, one by one. Indeed, even in the most monumental success stories of world change, they’ve all started with individuals and flourished by the individuals’ lives impacted by them, one by one.

The Gates Foundation has been on a mission to change the world for millions of children in third-world countries. Over 1.5 million children die each year from diseases of which there are vaccines, but to which they don’t have access. The Gates Foundation has been eradicating this issue. How? By vaccinating one child at a time.

Now, most of us aren’t Fords or Gates. However, we possess the same ability to profoundly impact the world – by making a difference in the lives of others, one person at a time. It doesn’t matter who you are or what you do. All you have to do is be aware of who around you needs a touch of whatever it is you have to offer. Maybe you have a particular skill set that many can use, but not everyone can afford. Think of the difference it makes in a single life when you donate that skill to someone in need. Think about the contractor who quietly fixes up an elderly widow’s home; the college math student who tutors inner-city kids across town; the auto mechanic who fixes the single father’s truck at no charge so he can get to work and support his kids; the store clerk who asks everyone how they are because she truly cares; the pizza shop owner who makes every customer feel like family; the person who always answers the phone when a friend just needs someone to talk with. The list goes on and on, but the principle is the same: we each have the profound power to change the world one person at a time.

We can have a way of saying to ourselves, I’m nobody, with nothing to change the world. No, we’re each somebody – unique, with so much to offer, so many ways to change the world one person at a time. It doesn’t matter who you are, where you live, or what you do – you have the ability to improve the life of another person, and that single act alone does change the world.

I recently was interviewed, and the interviewer asked me what I saw as the greatest accomplishment of my career?

“I shipped a farmer in Iowa a part for his wheelchair this morning,” I said.

She looked surprised at my seemingly simple answer considering the complexity of my career.

“Is that an unusual situation?” she asked.

“No, it happens every day,” I replied. “But, you make a difference on this planet by embracing one person at a time.”

As Mother Teresa put it, “Never worry about numbers. Help one person at a time and always start with the person nearest you.”

The Success of Being You

By Mark E. Smith

If you look back at the GOP primaries of 2016, an interesting dynamic occurred at one point. There were two candidates – Marco Rubio and Donald Trump – with very different dispositions. Rubio was historically one of a positive message, while Trump was much more aggressive. And, both personalities had their place, per voters. Some were drawn to Rubio’s personality, while others were drawn to Trump’s.

Going into the Florida primary, the state was arguably up for grabs. It was Rubio’s home state, giving a candidate typically an advantage, but Trump, a known businessman in Florida, had very strong poll numbers.

However, the week of the primary, a lot changed. While Trump stayed with his aggressive messaging, Rubio made an abrupt change with his. To supporters’ dismay, Rubio went from his typical messaging to very aggressive, Trump-like messaging. And, it contributed to costing Rubio the primary.

See, voters wanted the Marco Rubio they’d always known, not a candidate who suddenly engaged in Trump-like aggressive rhetoric. By all accounts, Rubio becoming someone he wasn’t proved a catastrophic mistake.

Of course, there were a lot of other dynamics – some going back years – that cost Rubio Florida, but by most political observers’ accounts, his trying to be someone he wasn’t in the final week was the tipping point for Rubio’s loss.

The whole situation reminds me of our personal lives, how miserably we fail when we try to be someone we’re not – and worse yet, the toll it takes on us.

Outwardly, we can seem ridiculous in trying to be someone we’re not. A buddy of mine is one of the kindest, most sincere guys you’ll ever meet – the kind of gentleman many women would fall for in an instant. But, he has it in his head that he has to be a “cool player” when it comes to meeting the ladies, transforming into a cologne-drenched show-off who’s… well… ridiculous. The female friends in our circle have told him the simple truth: being yourself attracts others, not trying to be a studly caricature.

When we’re outwardly trying to be someone we’re not, we mostly risk embarrassment – or not getting dates in my buddy’s case! However, when we’re trying to be someone we’re not on the inside, it’s painful at best, self-defeating at worst. When I began dating my wife, I put my best foot forward, but I also vowed to myself – and ultimately her – that I wasn’t going to hold any aspect of myself back. If she fell in love with me, great. But, if any aspect of who I am chased her away, it would be my loss, but at least I was honest in the process. Nowadays, when we’re in the kitchen and I’m admittedly letting my twisted sense of humor fly, sometimes to her dismay, I have the ultimate defense, “You knew who you were marrying!”

Imagine, though – or maybe you’re there now – how painful it is not to be able to fully express yourself out of fear of rejection by those you love. Think about what it’s like to be in a family dynamic or relationship where you don’t feel safe expressing who you truly are. We know clinically that when we keep aspects of our identity bottled up, rates of depression, low self-esteem, substance abuse, and even suicide all skyrocket. Not being ourselves can literally be dangerous. Marco Rubio lost an election; but, Tyler Clementi lost his life when he jumped off of the George Washington bridge due to the shame he felt from being outed as gay.

None of this need be – and it’s a two way street. We must have the courage to just be ourselves, and we likewise must create an interpersonal dynamic where we welcome others to be themselves. In living such an open life, just think of how easy, comfortable and fulfilling it all becomes, where you can just be you. A Chinese proverb puts it best: Tension is who you think you should be. Relaxation is who you are….

That Man – Spoken Word Video

Transcript:

That man. That man. No Sam I am, but I am a minority, rolling with authority, living life proudly as who I am – because, man, I am that man.

No, I’m not a misfit, but a paradigm shift, where when the world says I can’t, and I say screw you, Captain Sulu – because I can. Man, I am that man.

Like a two-dollar bill oddity disband, I can thrive and jive – on the dance floor, had a boombox back in ’84 – and the band plays on and on and on like the wheels rolling on my chair, wind blowing in hair. Because, man, I am that man.

There’s no price of admission – disability isn’t a curse or condition – it’s just the way it is, say it like it is, live it as it is – screw those with ignorance, where what some call a hairdo is really just friz. Because, man, I’m that man.

Bold and determined, bulldozing like a tank named Sherman, I am a minority, and I’ll use my authority to make the world stand on end – screw you, I refuse to pretend who I am, because I’m proud to be me, all that you see – shout it, cerebral palsy – because, man, I am that man.

Why So Angry?

By Mark E. Smith

Terry wasn’t just mad. She was the angriest individual I’ve ever dealt with.

“What!” she exclaimed every time she answered the phone. Then after trying to argue with me over this or that, she’d hang up on me, only to then call back even madder. Terry would work herself up something fierce.

“Terry, you have to have faith that some of us truly care,” I’d try to explain to her regarding the industry I work in, the one she was furious at. “We’re all truly trying to help you.”

My words were most often overshadowed by her simultaneous yelling, but I was always sincere with her, no less.

Now, it would be easy to assume that there were emotional or mental health issues going on with Terry. But, it was clear there wasn’t – she was just angry, the angriest person I’d ever dealt with.

To a point, I felt for Terry. I mean, can you imagine going through life so bitter and resentful that it consumes you? There’s no question that she saw life as her against a rotten world. That’s an agonizing state to live in.

However, what’s puzzling to me about such angry people is why they give anger so much control over them? After all, it’s not like bad things haven’t happened to the rest of us. I know I have my scars. Yet we’re not consumed by it. Yes, at some point events are going to make us angry. But, we have the power to let it go. When someone darts in front of you in the Walmart parking lot and takes “your” spot, there’s a choice to be made: get out and threaten the person’s life out of anger, or smile and move on to find another spot. Anger isn’t our only option.

While I’ve always been a happy, optimistic person, I haven’t always been free of harboring anger, which is why maybe I empathized with Terry. In my 20s, I harbored tremendous anger at my father, in particular. It wasn’t that he only walked out on our family when I was little, but that by phone he’d pop up from time to time and make promises he wouldn’t keep or say hurtful things as drunks do. That builds a resentment and anger when you’re carrying that inside you while growing up. By my 20s, I was boiling over with anger toward him. At one point I reached out to him – admittedly looking for a capacity that I wanted him to have, Just say you’re sorry, Dad, and make things right – and his ultimate lack of response made me even angrier.

However, after harboring anger toward him for years, I realized he wasn’t the one hurting me – I was hurting myself. By my 30s I had so much good in my life, why let a guy who gave me no thought, drinking himself to death in a trailer in the mountains thousands of miles away, induce three decades of anger in me? The situation was the situation, no harm was being done to me anymore, so why not let it go?

So, I did. I was me, he was him, and the two no longer needed to effect each other. Before his death, I went 10 years without speaking to my father. I made the choice to let it all go – any anger, any resentment – and it worked. My life was genuinely happy, and I wished him no harm. It was a weight lifted off of my heart.

I learned a lot in that process, that while there are places and times for anger, it’s not healthy to hold on to it, and it’s certainly not healthy to let it interfere with that which is good in our lives. Some think holding on to anger is a sign of their strength. However, I learned that holding on to anger is an ultimate weakness that… well… simply holds us back.

The Life and Death of Humor

To John: After writing the essay, I had to have an illustrator colleague bring my image to life - or death! -Mark — To John: After writing the essay, I had to have an illustrator colleague bring my image to life – or death! -Mark

By Mark E. Smith

Among my all-time favorite people is Callahan – John Callahan. He’s been dead now for going on 6 years, and I’m sure there’s still a hilarious punchline to that waiting to be told… maybe a cartoon of two grave diggers with shovels standing over a grave dug in the silhouette of a wheelchair?

See, Callahan was abused as a child, an alcoholic by his teens, and a high-level quadriplegic by 21 from a drunk-driving accident. There’s nothing funny about any of that – except to Callahan and his millions of readers who understood through his twisted but totally candid cartoons that humor can be among the truest healing forces. I mean, his most famous cartoon was where cowboys on horses in the desert surrounded an empty wheelchair, noting, “Don’t worry, he won’t get far on foot,” exemplifies where tragedy evolved into humor in Callahan’s life. Many were mortified by the tasteless cartoon; but for those of us who live with disability, it was hilarious.

I’ve seen it so many times, where our pain, when addressed with humor, can become joy. And, making that transition is life-changing. If you can genuinely laugh at something, you’ve survived it. You’d be hard pressed to find a successful comedian who hasn’t experienced trauma, but through that has somehow found humor.

For me, humor has always kept me from the dark sides of life. If you ask me about cigarette smoking, I’ll tell you to go for it. After all, my mother smoked throughout her pregnancy with me, and I was born just fine, right? …The whole cerebral palsy thing was just an uncanny coincidence.

I likewise grew up with alcoholic parents, and they died from it at young ages. Along the way, I spent time accompanying my drunk mom to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings as a teenager – because when you’re 16, with cerebral palsy, it’s the one place your slurred speech and uncoordinated body gestures fit in. At times, I wanted to truly participate: “I’m Mark, and I’m not an alcoholic, but I sound like one and sometimes I pee my pants – where’s my AA coin!”

No, there was nothing funny about being born with cerebral palsy or having drunks for parents – it was all tough stuff. Yet, I survived it all, and I can’t help but see humor in most of it now. Humor, in so many ways, is the power to rise above pain, to take back our joy, our spirit.

As they say, that which does not kill us – or does! – only makes for a hilarious punchline. And, as Callahan taught us all so well with his work, if you’re not at the point yet where you can laugh at your own pain, you don’t need to worry – there are plenty of us who will do it for you!

The Most Sacred Trust

By Mark E. Smith

Every week, I take a leap of faith on this blog and write essays that are often very personal and expose vulnerabilities about myself that I know can range from liberating to uncomfortable for readers. Yet, there’s a deep meaning and purpose to it all. Firstly, as a formally-trained writer, I was taught that if you’re truly going to write, you owe it to yourself and your reader to write with unflinching courage, to expose that which others may not dare, all in the name of integrity – the best writing is fearless and scary all at once. Secondly, there’s such power in universal experience, where if through sharing my own vulnerabilities I can help someone else embrace his or hers, realizing that none of us are alone in life’s challenges, that’s a tremendous privilege. I write to connect, and that demands unflinching honesty, candor and authenticity.

However, here’s what might surprise you: I don’t believe that this unyielding, wide-open form of trust should be practiced in our personal lives. The fact is, whether a child or a so-called hardened criminal, there’s a fragility within all of us – our inner-most vulnerabilities. And, they aren’t to be trusted with just anyone. We’re too valuable to risk handing over our emotions to those who may not honor, respect or deserve them.

Many of us know a lot of people, many of whom we call family and friends. For me, I can’t even count how many people I know. All are wonderful people. Yet, if you think about your own friends and family – as I do mine – how many have truly earned your trust to possess the capacity to treat your deepest vulnerabilities with the safety and security you deserve?

Chances are, not many. Unfortunately, we’ve often learned this in the most painful ways. We’ve shared our most vulnerable selves with someone, only to have that person attempt to hurt us with it later in scorn or judgement at the most opportune – make that, malicious – of times. True family and friends don’t use our vulnerabilities against us. Rather, true family and friends treat our vulnerabilities as sacred, those which are to be addressed with compassion, empathy and support.

So, how do we know with whom our deepest vulnerabilities are safe? For most of us, it’s a tiny fraction of those who we know, maybe only one or two people. And, the litmus test can take time, often years. See, true trust isn’t assumed; it’s earned, piece by piece. You share a little, see how that’s handled by someone over time, and if it’s honored, you share a little more, until ultimate trust is earned. Along the way, let us not be guarded, but aware, as if we witness the slightest violation of trust, it’s a sign to put on the emotional brakes and realize that person may be a loved family member or great friend, but not one who we can trust in our most sacred places – again, that’s reserved for those who’ve earned it.

By far the toughest practices of setting boundaries of who’s earned the privilege of being trusted with our deepest vulnerabilities is in romantic relationships because the emotions are so intense and the stakes are so high. In our desire to love and be loved, it’s far too easy to dismiss violations of our vulnerabilities. He only said it out of anger during our argument…. No, there’s never a reason or excuse to use someone’s vulnerabilities against him or her. That’s not love, its betrayal – and that never makes for a relationship you deserve. I married my wife for a lot of wonderful reasons, but the big one was our mutually-earned trust. Sure, we get mad and frustrated with each other, but we know that each other’s vulnerabilities are the sacred boundary line that we respect above all else. I’m also blessed that this ultimate sacred trust holds true with both my oldest daughter and my lifelong best friend.

When it comes to our vulnerabilities, let us seek comfort in others – it’s healing for the soul. However, let us likewise know that our vulnerabilities shouldn’t be entrusted to anyone except those worthy of respecting and cherishing such a gift. See, when it comes to ultimate trust, it’s quality, not quantity, that serves our heart.

When All Heals Stronger

By Mark E. Smith

In 1987, British humanitarian and envoy, Terry Waite, went to Lebanon to secure the release of four hostages. He, himself, was then taken hostage, enduring 1,763 days in solitary confinement – chained, beaten and subjected to mock execution.

Once released, Waite reflected on his experience years later, writing, “Suffering is universal: you attempt to subvert it so that it does not have a destructive, negative effect. You turn it around so that it becomes a creative, positive force.”

Waite’s interpretation of the impact of trauma is one that psychologists have been studying for some 30 years. It’s long been known that trauma – from early childhood experiences to those occurring later in life – can profoundly derail lives in so many destructive ways. It’s extremely hard to psychologically and emotionally recover when life has thrown you devastating blows. I know – I’ve had them. Yet, there’s a fascinating, researched side to trauma that many live, but few discuss: Trauma can serve as a mechanism for positive, personal growth.

Psychologists now formally call this process of turning trauma into triumph Post Traumatic Growth (PTG), which is the opposite of widely-known Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). As I put it in context within my own life, I’m not better in spite of adversity; rather, I’m better because of adversity. No, I haven’t welcomed adversity into my life – after all, I didn’t choose my family’s dysfunction as a child or my cerebral palsy – but there’s no question it’s all shaped me into a person I’m proud of and fostered a strength toward successes I likely wouldn’t have otherwise. PTG is when you meet individuals whose lives seem to defy logic, those who’ve experienced trauma and adversity, only to go on to successful, healthy, happy lives.

Interestingly, researchers have found that approximately one-third of those who have experienced trauma or adversity have PTG as a catalyst in their lives. I look at the impact of PTG like exercising weights: adversity conditions us to lift among the heaviest of weights, so the rest of life (read that, far less weight) is easier to cope with and allows us perspectives others may not have. So, what are those perspectives?

Researchers looked at the common traits of PTG – that is, those not sunk by trauma and adversity, but elevated by it – and the common threads are striking: A greater appreciation and empathy toward others; an increased acceptance and comfort within oneself; and, an increased innate ability to live in the present and prioritize what’s truly important, having an unyielding sense of gratitude.

If you consider the emblematic positive effects of PTG, they seemingly go against logic, don’t they? After all, trauma and adversity do lead – at least in two-thirds of the population – to aspects of fear, distrust, resentment, self-defeat and bitterness, to name a few emotions. And, it all makes sense, as such reactions to trauma as PTSD are rightfully more common than not, tapping into totally valid, understandable emotional and mental states. It’s so difficult not to come out unscathed. Therefore, how is it that those with PTG escape the more-typical trauma-based path and actually become healthier, happier, more successful individuals? How has Terry Waite experienced among the worst that mankind can inflict, but has gone on to be a leading humanitarian on a global scale?

No one knows. However, what’s inspiring about research in Post Traumatic Growth is that it clearly shows the capacity of the human spirit to turn tragedy into triumph, where it may not be easily done, but it is possible. We don’t have to be defined by what’s happened to us. As Waite puts it, “Break my body, bend my mind, but my soul is not yours to possess….”

The True Meaning of Weakness

By Mark E. Smith

I love working out because it’s such a humbling experience. See, people often trick themselves into believing that working out is about strength; however, it’s literally an exercise in embracing weakness. After all, if you’re putting your all into your workout routine, you do so till failure, finding your ultimate weakness every time. If you’re doing it right, you never leave a workout accomplished but defeated.

Yet, what’s fascinating about working out is that by consistently acknowledging your weakness, it ultimately makes you stronger. This goes for all of life, where our greatest strengths originate from our truest weaknesses. If we wish to live to our best, we can’t focus only on our strengths, but we have to be wise enough to embrace and pursue our weaknesses.

I come from a lineage of addiction, and I’ve never thought myself stronger than it. I was born into it, science says it’s in my DNA as a genetic component, and was further solidified by the environment I was raised in. By all accounts, I statistically should be – and could be, as it’s never too late – an addict. It would be easy for me to say that I’m too level-headed or strong-spirited to be an addict. But, the fact is, it’s knowing my weaknesses toward addiction that have kept me off of that path. I’ve known my risk factors, and knowing my predisposed weaknesses within me keep me in check. I’m not inherently stronger than addiction, just wisely aware of my weaknesses. If you know you can’t out-wrestle a bear, stay away from bears!

Having a disability, my physical weaknesses are always front and center – at least as society recognizes them. After all, we live in a culture of hyper portrayals of masculinity and femininity. Men should be strong and independent, and women should be sexy and elegant. But, physical disability can make living up to those standards not just impossible, but excruciating. As a result, it’s so easy to push disability weaknesses – read that, vulnerabilities – down in denial or shame, especially when it comes to how the so-called weaknesses and our romantic partners interrelate. However, if you’re willing to expose and embrace your seeming weaknesses, it will take your life and relationships to a far deeper, rewarding level.

I’ve always had a whatever-it-takes attitude, and it’s served me well – that is, except when I’ve used it to mask disability-related weaknesses. I’ve spent decades struggling to use the toilet, where poor balance and poor coordination made the transfers a constant nightmare. I could never use the bathroom in the morning because I lacked the balance and coordination, and then in the evenings, falls from transfers weren’t uncommon. In my mind, my thought process was, no matter how hard it all was didn’t matter – I’d rather die trying than accept help. In my skewed, macho mind, what was less manly than having my wife help me transfer onto the toilet?

However, it was tough for my wife to see and hear me struggle. And, one eve, she just came up, tucked her arms under mine, and together we slid me onto the toilet, then off. It took a lot for me to accept that help, but it immediately made my life one thousand times easier. Yes, I had to admit a weakness to myself, that independently transferring onto the toilet was a huge problem. However, as a result, I summoned far more inner-strength and confidence by being secure enough in who I am to embrace such help from my wife – and it’s enhanced my life and our marriage.

From what I’ve learned in my own life, I don’t know why “weaknesses” in our culture are seen in such a poor light. After all, when weaknesses are embraced and addressed, they can be the ultimate form of strength.

The Iris Effect

By Mark E. Smith

Ninety-four year old fashion icon, Iris Apfel, once said, “I’m not going to be a rebel and offend anybody, but I’m not going to live in somebody else’s image.”

Being somewhat of a public figure, I recently was engaged in a several-day online banter with an individual being very critical of me, to the point of irrational. Still, I felt the need to respond to his criticisms. For one, I didn’t want false statements about me left unaddressed in a public forum, and secondly, I was trying to be respectful and not ignore the individual. I didn’t take it too personally, but I also didn’t just let it emotionally go – and logistically it consumed a lot of time. However, I finally realized I didn’t deserve to be treated that way, and I didn’t care what else was said of me – and I simply ceased the unhealthy dialogue. I know who I am, I know what I do, and I’m proud of it all, so there’s no need to waste time with concern over others’ opinion of me – good or bad.

Most of us have been in this type of predicament, sometimes more serious than others, right down to abusive. I mean, maybe you know what it’s like to be inappropriately criticized, judged or condemned by others. And, it’s most painful when it’s by those who claim to love us. Something as small as a comment like, “You’re not going to wear that, are you?” after we’ve gotten dressed up can sting. Of course, situations like when parents stop talking to a child because he or she came out as gay can crush. From tiny comments to huge judgments, it all just hurts, doesn’t it?

But, there’s a way to stop it all, to take away the pain – and, more importantly, remove the power of others from effecting us. We need to realize that, if we’re good people, living good lives, no one has the right to criticize, condemn or judge us, period.

As I grew up with a severe disability, it was always in the back of my head whether others would accept me? This insecurity extended well into my adulthood. Granted, I was really good at concealing it, where self-confidence was a mask I wore. However, in my 30s – and it’s unfortunate that it took me that long to come to such a simple truth – I realized that I was to be accepted as I was, and I didn’t need anyone’s approval toward my having a disability. It’s really a brilliantly childish life strategy: I don’t need anyone to accept me because I don’t accept anyone who doesn’t accept me. It’s my ball, and if you don’t like the way I play, then I’m taking my ball and going home!

See, the prize is in you and me, not those who criticize, condemn or judge. I’ve run into several circumstances where friends have come out as gay to their parents, only to be shunned. Again, imagine how painful it is to have your parents shun you. However, who should shun who in such a circumstance? It’s painful and hard, but a child needs to say to his or her parents, I’m your child and I deserve to be loved as-is, and guess what, folks, until you love me as I deserve, you’re going to have an empty chair at the dining room table.

Life and relationships are full of compromises, but our intrinsic value isn’t. We shouldn’t live to others’ criticism, condemnation and judgment. I know, it can be hard to break free of investing in what others think of us, especially when it’s gotten to a toxic level in family dynamics and relationships. Yet, we owe it to ourselves to be our own cheerleaders, champions of the self, where the only opinion that counts is our own, based strictly on the positive, meaningful lives we lead.

Larger Than Our Pasts

By Mark E. Smith

A friend and I were eating at a fast-food joint when a couple sat at the table beside us.

The woman nicely said, “I forgot napkins.”

The guy burst out in anger, calling her filthy names, noting over and over how “stupid” she was.

Yet, she was unfazed by the verbal abuse.

My friend and I were mortified, noting if he does that in public, can you fathom the abuse at home?

“That’s learned behavior,” my friend said. “I guarantee you they both were raised in abusive homes.”

My friend was undoubtedly right. When you come from a realm of dysfunction – albeit, addiction, abuse, divorce, and so on – as a child, you’re four times as likely to live these as an adult, according to the National Institute on Health.

It’s the nature of the beast that psychologists call classical conditioning – learned ways become innate behaviors that go unquestioned by us. Put simply, if you’re raised by a verbally abusive parent, you’re likely to verbally abuse others or accept being verbally abused.

Interestingly, circus elephants are a perfect (but sad) example of this. Elephants are gigantic creatures led around by tiny tethers. They could break free in an instant, but they don’t? Why?

As babies, circus elephants are restrained, where, as hard as they try, they can’t escape. Although they grow to enormous strength, that early conditioning makes them innately believe that they’re forever restrained, even by a shoe-lace-thick line.

The fact is, we’re not much different than elephants, where extremely unhealthy treatment becomes innate behaviors. Family legacies can be wonderful; yet they can also destroy us when unhealthy. However, we truly don’t have to live unhealthy legacies – we can break free of their torturous tethers. No, we don’t see a lot of people do it because it takes so much, literally being so self-aware and courageously strong that you’re willing to question that which is all you know.

I grew up under extremely unhealthy circumstances, and while I was fortunate enough to question them – and that’s the only way to break free of a toxic legacy – I wasn’t totally successful at breaking free of them. I married an addict in my 20s. By my 30s, I knew my daughter was in deep trouble having a parent along the lines of my own, and I had to do two steps to hopefully pull her as far away as I could from that destructive legacy. Firstly, I had to get my ex-wife out of the home. But, secondly – and more importantly – I had to somehow help my daughter dispose of what she innately knew of addiction and cut that as her legacy. She had to do what many people never want to do – namely because it’s so painful – and question why her mom did what she did.

My daughter is now in college, and beyond all of her amazing accomplishments, the one I’m most inspired by is the courage she’s investing in breaking free of a dysfunctional legacy and creating another of self-awareness and emotional health. As a psychology major, she’s investing not just in her coursework and community, but in herself. The candor and awareness – sometimes the struggle – that I see in her papers is breathtaking:

I hid behind the white bedroom door at around 9 p.m. on that weeknight. I had school the next morning. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling as I stared into Dad’s dark brown eyes, both waiting for the police and my aunt to arrive. Yet, I’d never seen my father’s heart more heavy than in that moment. It was clearly a breaking point of fear and guilt and decision.

On the other side of this – the emotions, the door – was my mother. She was on the other side of that door, kitchen knife in hand, trying to get in, to get us. At that point, I realized that I had lost my mother for good to addiction.

The realities of addiction were imprinted on me – forever. They started when I was three, escalated in my adolescence, and remain chilling today when I have the strength to think about them.

…As for my mother, she’s no longer battling addiction, but in hospice dying from it – a mind and body destroyed. As for me, I’m still battling her addiction as part of my past, but with a better understanding not to make it part of my own future, but to help those where there’s still hope to break the cycle. That’s the best I can do with my legacy of addiction.

See, that’s the key to untethering ourselves from potentially life-destroying legacies: If we question them, it’s impossible to relive them. What happens if a 6,000lb grown elephant questions its tether? It breaks free. There’s a moment where we, too, can break free in realizing we don’t have to live that way – we can be larger than our pasts.