Posts Tagged ‘how failure leads to success’

By Mark E. Smith

I’m a firm believer in not caring what the blank other people think of us. In fact, it’s a skill that I developed living with cerebral palsy as a child and one I’ve continued as an adult – and it’s served me phenomenally well.

See, I’ve faced being viewed as “different” my whole life. As a child, I was taunted and teased at times. I wish I could say that changed in adulthood, but it merely shifted toward more discrete forms of ignorance – looks, reactions, comments. People can be cruel toward those of us who are seemingly different.

However, truly not giving a blank proves the ultimate antidote toward those who may try to treat us differently. It doesn’t mean not caring what anyone thinks of us. It means having the confidence and self-esteem to not care what inappropriate people think of us. I’m a fan of constructive criticism. I truly care what my wife or colleagues think of me, and I want to improve myself when needed. Yet, when it comes to strangers or self-appointed critics, I don’t give a blank what they think of me. I learned as a child that I could either let the negative attitudes of others stop me or I could own my destiny and not give a blank about what others thought of me and move through the world on my own terms. I chose the latter.

My I-don’t-give-a-blank attitude has served me well. I’m comfortable being me, regardless of what others may think. I garner attention rolling into, say, a restaurant. But, I hold my head high, smile, and if I’m a spastic mess at that moment, all the better. Here I am, and I don’t give a blank! We’re each unique, and owning who we are is key. We can either let others define us or we can define ourselves.

So, how do we do this consistently – that is, not give a blank what others think?

Firstly, let us move beyond our own self-consciousness and focus on others. It sounds like an oxymoron, but the truth is, when we’re consumed by what others think of us, it’s a form of narcissism – we’re making the world all about us. If we focus less on ourselves and more on other people, we’re less self-conscious and more engaged. If you watch really confident, comfortable people in social settings, you’ll see that they’re very engaged with others. When we focus on others, we release focusing on ourselves, and we’re not dwelling on what others think of us.

Secondly, extend people the benefit of the doubt. Just because someone doesn’t understand your situation doesn’t mean it’s personal. People have different life experiences, and just because someone is ignorant toward yours or mine, shouldn’t be taken to heart. As the proverb says, live and let live.

Lastly, focus on what you’re doing, not what others may be saying or thinking. As an adolescent, a group of kids teased me as I struggled to push a manual wheelchair up a hill. I could have been deterred by them, but I chose to stay focused on surmounting the hill. Focusing on the hill voided the taunting.

Really, all of us should carry an I-don’t-give-a-blank attitude, wielded at the right time. Of course, we should care what certain people think. However, we shouldn’t give a blank what everyone thinks. Move through the world and let the chips fall where they may. Better yet, don’t worry where they fall at all!

By Mark E. Smith

I recently spoke on a senate panel on aging. The panelists were heavy-hitters, including a U.S. senator and heads of government agencies. As speakers go, they were the best-of-the-best, both in presentation and knowledge. Then, there was me.

As a speaker, I prefer keynotes, not because I wish to be the star attraction, but because there’s a different dynamic on panels, especially when the other panelists are beyond great. It’s like sitting back stage as a musician and the band before you is phenomenal, and you’re thinking, Man, I can’t live up to what Iggy Pop just did!

What made the recent panel even more challenging was that I went last, so there I sat trembling in my boots – not emotionally, but literally, as I have uncontrollable body movements due to cerebral palsy – as I watched eloquent, brilliant speakers along our table command the room. So, how’d I move through it?

The same way that I always do. Public speaking can be tricky. Yet, if you know your subject, know your audience, and you’re skilled with rhetorical devices, public speaking is a bit of an illusion – it looks tougher than it is. For me, however, there’s a wild card added to the mix: cerebral palsy. My brain sends involuntary signals to my muscles and they do whatever they want, whenever they want. My central nervous system doesn’t care if I’m in bed watching TV or speaking in front of 250 statesmen. If it tells my legs to kick, they simply kick – formally known as a “spasm.” Speaking as a craft is easy for me; doing it with the physical unpredictability of cerebral palsy can be the harrowing part.

Given my situation, I view speaking in front of audiences like driving a race car. Driving a car at 150 mph around a race track takes skill, but even more so when the unexpected occurs. Race car drivers win races not based on simply going around a track, but in addressing peril when encountered. Did you see him keep his car from spinning off of the track!

When I’m publicly speaking, it’s the same phenomenon. I have my emotional and mental composure, but I never know what my body will throw my way. The ability to address spasms and uncontrolled body movements without missing a beat while speaking is my real craft. The way I do it is I let go of the mental and emotional constraints others often feel in such situations. When I sat on the senate panel, there was no way I could be as physically composed as the other speakers, so I threw that standard out the window and focused on being the only person I could be: me. I have cerebral palsy and a microphone – hold on to your seats, folks! In these ways, cerebral palsy becomes an asset of originality.

It doesn’t matter if we’re public speaking or living our everyday lives, the minute we let go of social pressures or preconceived notions of who we should be and just be ourselves, as-is, there’s no freer realm to be in. I understand that this is difficult for many. We live in a culture that presents ideals on how we should be. Yet, for many of us, it’s impossible for us to meet those ideals – there’s no product to resolve cerebral palsy – and in the larger scope, nor should anyone feel he or she has to live to such scripted ideals.

See, I view the world as the most spectacular art gallery. Each of our beauty isn’t blended on a single cultural canvas, in a single form, but seen within the borders of our unique frames. Photoshopped images are great; an original Picasso is amazing.

Canada’s Andre Viger (front) and Mel Fitzgerald (left) compete in a wheelchair event at the 1984 Olympic games in Los Angeles. (CP PHOTO/ COA/J Merrithew)

By Mark E. Smith

I have a home gym. Two or three nights per week, I go into that room in my house, put on old, sweat-crusted weight-lifting gloves, and start wailing away at the contraption. As it bangs and crashes, sounding like some sort of machine from the Industrial Revolution, I push, pull, and grunt. It’s a competition of me versus it. So, what drives me to keep working out, especially as a 46-year-old dad with cerebral palsy who could get away with taking the easy road at this point in life?

When I was an adolescent, I watched the greatest wheelchair racers of all time fly across my TV screen during events like the Boston Marathon and the 1984 Summer Olympics. They looked like gladiators. They had massive upper bodies, and all was squeezed into an ultralight racing wheelchair that they hurled down the road or around the track at insane speeds. Their triceps pumped the wheels like pistons.

Yet, I wasn’t in awe of them. Rather, I was inspired.

See, there’s a vast difference between being awed versus being inspired. When we’re awed, we never imagine that we can do what another person does. It’s like, That’s awesome, but I could never do that. However, when we’re inspired, we’re compelled to get out there and do it, no matter how rational or irrational the thought may seem. That band rocks – give me a guitar. This poetry is astounding – I need a pen. Her words are so eloquent – I’m learning to speak like her. That person has an amazing career – I’m going back to college. Inspiration moves us into action. In awe, we watch. With inspiration, we do.

I realized the profound difference between awe and inspiration in my adolescence, and in being inspired by the wheelchair racers I saw on TV, I said, I’m doing that! Of course, like a 12-year-old picking up a guitar at the Salvation Army with the intent of starting a band and becoming a rock star, I had no ability at that moment to truly become a wheelchair racer, especially given the severity of my disability. But, that’s the beauty of inspiration – it launches us toward something great. We may not know where we’re going to land in our attempt – did Jackson Pollock when he began dripping paint on canvas in 1947? – but we’re bound to go somewhere.

I pushed around in manual wheelchairs for years, struggling merely to become self-sufficient, literal miles from ever being a “racer.” It did, though, help lead me to weight lifting, which I excelled at. I couldn’t push a racing chair faster than a snail, but through tenacity in the gym, I could have an upper body that looked like I did! That spirit continues with me today every time I hit the gym: Why watch when I can do, and why not see how far I can get with my efforts?

All of us see people accomplishing seemingly amazing feats. Some take talent and some take years of hard work. Yet, the people doing them are merely people like each of us and, most often, if they’re doing it, we can take a shot at it, too. Don’t be awed by others; be inspired. After all, the only reason why others are where we’d like to be is because we simply haven’t tried – yet.

By Mark E. Smith

Is the glass half full or half empty? …There’re two sides to every coin. …Or, would you rather a steak that’s 80% lean or 20% fat?

All of those statements are utter clichés, but they tie into a psychological principle that dictates the way we see each situation: framing.

Framing is the psychological process that applies to whether we see a situation as negative or positive. The fact is, in even the worst of situations, we have the choice on how to frame them – that is, to see negatives, positives, or both – and the way we frame them dictates our success in addressing them, literally and emotionally.

I’m a firm believer in framing adversity as a tool for opportunity. No matter what happens, I believe in recognizing the opportunity in it. I once had a home severely flood, and as I evacuated, I told everyone, “It looks like I finally get to remodel….” And, I did get to remodel as a result of the unfortunate circumstance, where the house was far nicer than before it flooded.

So many aspects of our lives are like that: As the flood waters rush in, it’s difficult to see beyond the seeming disaster. However, if we frame life’s adversities so that we can draw positive aspects from them in the immediate and long term, it lessens the impact on us and allows us to move forward.

On top of using positive framing as a tool of coping, it’s invaluable as a tool for learning and growth. If we only see a situation as bad, we’re simply in victim mode – adversity only harms us – and we can’t move forward. However, if we frame adverse situations with at least some positives, we not only take control of the situation, but we learn and grow. Imagine if every time a professional sports team lost a game, they just went back to the locker room and sulked about how unfair the game was. They’d be the worst team in history. No team does that. Rather, they watch replays of the game to determine how mistakes were made, then they strive to improve in those areas. We lost that game, let’s learn from it to win the next.

If you’re not in the habit of framing adversity toward the positive, I know it’s hard. None of us want adversity in our life, and it can weigh us down. Yet, adversity enters our lives at times no matter what – which is why it’s so important to develop the habit of seeing positives. If we only see negatives, it tends to freeze us in place. However, if we can see a positive – even in the bleakest of situations – it allows us to begin moving forward. Most of us have had our hearts broken by an ended romance. Then, a well-meaning friend tells us, Don’t worry, there are other fish in the sea. While that cheesy saying lacks empathy in the moment, the painful end of one relationship most often does lead to a new, joyous chapter of love. In this way, even an ending in our life can eventually frame a wonderful beginning if we allow it.

If we can get to a place in our lives where we can frame adversities in the positive, we can then move forward, learn, and grow. That’s a great frame to be in.

By Mark E. Smith

Every Monday, I meet our company’s new employees. It’s my role to share with them not what we do, but why we do what we do. We make mobility products and that’s a noble endeavor. I know that because my life depends on the products we make. And, I tell them about that. But, as a General Manager, in my slacks and button-down dress shirt, here’s what I don’t tell them or most people these days:

I’m nobody from nowhere. That truth drives me to push and pull and continue dragging myself up a mountain that I could easily fall from at any moment. Fear of falling has been my purest motivator.

Others have talent, education, abilities. I wasn’t born into any of it. If it wasn’t for my cerebral palsy, I’d likely be mowing lawns or asking at 46, Do you want fries with that? Now, there’s nothing wrong with jobs like that – it’s in my gene pool. But, that doesn’t work with cerebral palsy, so I had to go a different route: one that’s been a third luck, a third showing up, and a third blistering hard work.

Do you want to try a power wheelchair? Sure.

Do you want to take a swing at public school? Absolutely.

College? Let’s go.

So, I’ve moved through life knowing that guys like me don’t get a lot of breaks. So, when I do, I show up, shut up, and do what the task takes.

Along the way, my failure has been predicted by many. I’ve been OK with that. Although, I admit that the further I get up the mountain, the more I look down on them. Don’t tell me I can’t climb when you’re unwilling to climb with me – because I’m going for it, not out of spite, but opportunity.

The fact is, my only option in life is climbing a mountain. I know that with a single wrong move I can lose everything, I take nothing for granted. I am simply thankful for the next obstacle that comes my way – and fear strengthens my grip.

By Mark E. Smith

Have you ever truly thought about bitterness and its toll on an individual? Hurt and anger are common emotions we all experience when a person or circumstance causes us emotional pain. However, bitterness exponentially ups the stakes, taking us to a place where our life and mental health are consumed by it. Bitterness is among our most self-defeating emotions and mindsets – and difficult to overcome once in its grips.

Dr. Stephen A. Diamond puts it well when he writes, “Bitterness, which I define as a chronic and pervasive state of smoldering resentment, is one of the most destructive and toxic of human emotions. Bitterness is a kind of morbid characterological hostility toward someone, something or toward life itself…. Bitterness is a prolonged, resentful feeling of disempowered and devalued victimization.”

Beyond those disturbing characteristics that can consume our life, bitterness is unique in that it’s an emotional state and mindset that we place upon ourselves – at least in the beginning, that is. Others or circumstances, of course, can make us angry or cause us hurt – we can’t control that in the immediate. However, bitterness, in fact, is of our own creation based on our not letting go of then pain or resentment. Then, if left to fester, bitterness can take over our life, becoming a diagnosable mental health issue (known as Post-Traumatic Embitterment Disorder [note the root word of “bitter” in that diagnosis]). Therefore, bitterness is like getting stuck on an ever-revolving hamster wheel, trapping us in an addictive cycle of …well …bitterness.

I recently spent time with an acquaintance who frequently brought up an ex-partner in our routine conversation. The pain and anger were tangible each time the ex was interjected, so I assumed the breakup was within the past weeks or months. I finally asked how long they’d been apart? The startling answer: six years. Firstly, I felt empathy for the hurt this person was feeling, as it was palpable, and I couldn’t fathom anyone living in such pain for six years. But, I also thought to myself, holding on to this bitterness will prevent you from ever welcoming a new, loving relationship into your life.

I’ve likewise witnessed life-defeating bitterness evolve from anger toward circumstances. Living and working in the disability community, I encounter individuals from time to time who’ve held on so tightly to the negative emotions surrounding disability that they blame it for everything wrong in their lives. Disability experience can be frustrating, but it need not fester to the point of bitterness and constant self-victimization. When it reaches such a catastrophic point as bitterness, joy is drained from life, where one is stuck in the destructive mode of resenting life itself.

Bitterness is so dangerous because we often don’t know we’re in that space – that’s how consuming it can be. When embedded in bitterness, we have our lives focused on a target, upon which we thrust blame for virtually everything, and don’t realize how it slowly destroys us.

I found myself in the grips of bitterness in my late teens, and looking back, it was such a harrowing experience. I was on the verge of graduating high school and my resentment toward my biological father was simmering into bitterness because he wasn’t in my life. While I tried to focus on what otherwise should have been an exciting time in my life, my bitterness toward my father consumed much of my thoughts. Fortunately, through counseling and introspection, I was able to realize that my father wasn’t hurting me – he wasn’t even in my life – rather, I was hurting myself with smoldering resentment. Looking back, I was fortunate to break that self-destructive mindset of bitterness, but it wasn’t easy and ultimately took years of processing to get to an accountable, peaceful place in my life regarding the emotions surrounding my father.

While I broke a cycle of bitterness early in my life, and learned the importance of avoiding such dangerous emotional paths, the question remains: how do we universally break a state of bitterness?

The first answer is, we need to recognize that we are bitter. If we’re hyper-focused on how someone or a circumstance has wronged us, and still seething years later, to the point that it taints our thoughts and world view, there’s a problem. It’s at this point where we merely self-victimize. What happened, happened, and we need to let go of it.

Now, a lot of literature on the subject of bitterness, both secular and nonsecular, speaks of forgiveness as the ultimate salvation. The psychology world defines forgiveness as, “mustering up genuine compassion for those who have wronged us.” While this is great for some, modern psychology doesn’t believe it’s universally required – nor should it be in certain circumstances – in order to live without bitterness. There’s tremendous power in simply allowing the past to be the past, and living with gratitude for what today offers. We’ve all been wronged at points in life in ways we can’t change, but why hold onto that when we can release it? Again, this doesn’t mean we must outright forgive in order to find peace. If someone or a circumstance harmed us, we have every right to forever acknowledge the wrong. For instance, as a father myself, I see my father’s behavior as totally inexcusable till this day; however, he’s long deceased and I focus on being the best father I can to my children rather than dwelling on my father. My point is, we can let go of pain without forgiving someone’s wrong or a circumstance. A friend of mine, who experienced a spinal cord injury at the fault of a drunk driver, once said, “I can never forgive the drunk who hit me, but why would I focus on what that accident took from me when I can focus on all I still have?”

Emotional pain and hurt inevitably enter our lives at points. Bitterness doesn’t have to. Let us not necessarily “forgive” or “forget,” but move on in the present, where we remove the power from others and circumstances – bitterness! – and confidently control our own lives with grace and happiness.

By Mark E. Smith

Spring. It’s a fascinating juxtaposition, isn’t it? On the one hand, beautiful perennial flowers sprout and bloom with more vibrant colors than could ever be painted. On the other hand, weeds simultaneously grow, and if left without intervention, soon overtake the flowers. It can become tougher and tougher to see the beauty of spring among the chaos it also brings.

This process isn’t unique to spring and nature. In fact, many of us can identify a similar process within ourselves. That is, we can find our intrinsic beauty overtaken in our own negative self-perception. How often do we look in the mirror and only see seeming physical flaws? How often do we think of ourselves and only recall our seeming shortcomings? How often do we look at the scope of our lives and only think of our seeming failures? I’ve been there, and still go there from time to time, and it’s a tough way to live – in the weeds of life, you might say.

At some point, though, we have to remind ourselves that no matter how thick the weeds of life are, our intrinsic beauty and value is there. We need to clear our flower beds – read that, ourselves – of the weeds obscuring the beauty of it all. This isn’t to say we don’t each have our own weeds – I’m a rolling fiasco with cerebral palsy, and that’s never going to change. However, it is possible to clear our beds and look past the imperfection of sporadic weeds to our intrinsic beauty. I know that’s a tough perspective to have when the weeds of life have grown thick because, yes, what adversely happens to us in life deeply affects our sense of self. Yet, it is possible and vital to regain the self-truth of our buried beauty. So, how do we clear the weeds to reveal our beauty, namely to ourselves?

Speaking from my own experience, I’ve found several ways to “de-weed” my inner flower bed when needed. Firstly, let us acknowledge and try not to take our imperfections too seriously. Having cerebral palsy has its challenges, but I find genuine humor in some of the ridiculous aspects of my condition. My wife and I have a never-ending joke that when I’m in bed, and my legs spasm, I look like a happy baby kicking in his crib. There’s nothing suave about a man’s legs kicking the blankets – but it is hilarious to see!

Next, I strive to accept only the truths in my life. People can say or think what they wish about us, but it’s the truth in our lives that counts. You know who you are and what you do, so try not to let the uninformed, poor intentions others distract you from the truths in your life.

Thirdly, I don’t believe we must develop a thick skin to survive. Rather, we need to merely surround ourselves with trustworthy people. Surrounding ourselves with reciprocating, healthy people is a great way to keep the weeds out.

Lastly, let’s try not to let circumstances or experiences define us, but learn from them, chalking them up as part of life’s journey, and move on. Making a mistake, then allowing that isolated circumstance to define us, is a terrible trap to fall into. We all make mistakes; let us have the self-forgiveness to move on.

Of course, there is one final way to remove the weeds in our lives, exposing our intrinsic beauty, and that is to acknowledge the beauty in others. The world is a mirror, and what we see often both reflects us and reflects upon us. If we acknowledge the beauty in others, we’re far more likely to see the beauty in ourselves, as well.

I wish clearing the metaphorical weeds of life was as easy as weeding a literal flower bed. It’s not. However, we deserve not to be self-mired in weeds, but to see our amazingly unique vibrancies that we contribute to the world. Flourish, no matter the weeds!