Living with disability – Page 14

The Power of Abandonment

Mark Sit Skiing 1987 — Mark Sit Skiing 1988

In art and dream may you proceed with abandon. -Patti Smith

By Mark E. Smith

The only sport that my disability level ever truly allowed me to compete in was downhill sit-skiing in the 1980s, when the technology – a kayak-type device, steered with short poles and edges on the bottom – just matched my limited coordination well enough to allow me to snow ski. In fact, it taught me a lot about how having the courage to push our boundaries isn’t about risks, but rewards.

It was the 1988 Western Regionals for what then was called National Handicapped Sports and Recreation, the governing body of adaptive snow skiing. In order to qualify for Nationals, one had to time in at Regionals, and my region was especially competitive because it was home to world-class athletes like Marilyn Hamilton, Dave Kiley, and Peter Axelson. However, I was lucky in that adaptive ski technology was rapidly changing that year, and those three ultra-skiers were in a new class called “mono-skis,” a technology that my lack of balance wouldn’t allow. So, the sit-ski class that I raced in was much smaller that season; yet, ultimately no less competitive.

My foremost competition was Mike Moleski, a paraplegic who was almost twice my age and definitely twice my size. I was a skinny 17-year-old kid with cerebral palsy, and Mike was a 30-something jock with muscles galore. He was also a bit of a loose canon. He appeared every bit your stoned surfer dude, right down to bleach-blond hair, and he sit-skied like he was on fire. I don’t know why, but when everyone else moved to the newer technology mono-ski class, he stayed in the sit-ski class with me.

And, I had no hopes of beating Mike, no matter how well I skied. He was too big, too strong, too coordinated, and too daring for me to realistically compete against on the race course. And, my coach knew it. “You’ve got three possible outcomes here,” my coach told me. “You can ski your own race and finish the course, but likely not qualify for Nationals. You can ski with abandonment and risk blowing out of the course, getting disqualified. Or, you can ski with abandonment and at least have a shot at keeping up with Mike and qualifying for Nationals.”

Of the three choices, only the two made sense to me: Ski with abandonment. Taking the safe way would get me down the course, but likely not with the time that I needed, so why even race? However, while skiing with abandonment would risk a disqualification if I got out of control and missed a gate, blowing the course, I still had an equal chance of ranking a leading time if by some miracle I could pull it off. I figured out of the three choices, only skiing with abandonment – and pulling it off – gave me a shot at qualifying for nationals.

The mono-ski class raced first, and the course was so steep and fast that they decided to start us sit-skiers off lower on the course. Mono-skis are a seat frame mounted to a single ski, with exceptional turning and edge control, so they handle high speeds and steep terrain better. Sit-skis are more of a sled, so they drift and speed can quickly become difficult to control. So, when I saw the steepness and speed of the course – even at half way – I was scared. I was no longer worried about blowing out of the course, but actually getting hurt.

Mike went first, and I saw his ski drifting as he flew down the hard-packed course, barely making each gate. If he was having trouble holding turns at speed, I was really in trouble. But, he finished the course, with a time I knew I couldn’t match – unless I skied with abandonment.

As the buzzer went off, I thrust myself out of the starting gate, and was immediately accelerated by gravity. Mike was smart in that he tried to stay in the trough carved by earlier racers, using it like a bobsled shoot to help steer his course. But, it likewise seemed to slow him down, so just past the first gate, I jumped out of the trough and opted a straighter, faster, more dangerous line, struggling to stay center course, hitting speeds that made it seem like the gates were much closer than they were. But, I soon figured that I really needed no technique, just abandonment. I applied no speed control whatsoever, and just used all of my strength to center the sled on each gate. And, as I hit the finish line, I had no hopes of stopping but to throw the sit-ski on its side, skidding to a stop in front of the crowd. Everyone cheered, including Mike – my time within a second of his – with my coach picking me up, sit-ski and all.

Sometimes in life – no matter sports, love, career, or disability, to name a few – the safest way isn’t always the surest or most rewarding way to accomplish what you wish. Sometimes you have to take calculated risks, and say, I don’t know how this is going to turn out. But, I’m going to put it all in my own hands, and give it a shot….

It Gets Better

Morgan Duffy & Crew, Stanford Class of 2013

By Mark E. Smith

Author’s Note: There’s a disturbing undercurrent that, in this modern day, some teens with physical disabilities still feel isolated, depressed, even suicidal. So, let us talk about being a teen with a disability, and how life gets better….

As a teenager struggling with having a disability, you need to know only one truth: Life gets better – remarkably better.

I remember being a teenager with cerebral palsy and, like you, I remember struggling with it all – feeling different, but wanting to fit in; being treated different, but wanting to fit in, or, at times, feeling completely “normal,” but not being accepted as such. No, high school for me wasn’t all terrible – there were some good friends and good times, as I hope there are for you. We should all see good where there’s good. But, it wasn’t easy for me being different. But, it did get better. And, I know it may not be easy for you right now, but it will get better – remarkably better.

See, high school is tough for everyone, typically a confusing time, and everyone just wants to fit in. I have a 16-year-old daughter who “fits the mold,” and it’s even tough for her and her friends at times. Like you and my daughter and her friends, I just wanted to fit in, too – to have the right friends, have the right persona, and get invited to the right parties. And, for me, maybe like you, sometimes it worked, and sometimes it didn’t. Well, a lot of times it didn’t work. And, when it didn’t work – the occasional bully calling me “retard,” or not getting invited to different events and such – it really, really hurt. At points, I, too, just wanted to give up and die. And, before it gets better, sometimes it gets worse.

I remember at among the lowest points in my teen years, I had a girlfriend who I thought truly accepted me, but when it came time to dance at the prom, she wouldn’t dance with me because I used a wheelchair. I remember thinking that my disability was the blame, that if I wasn’t plagued by cerebral palsy, I’d have all of the friends, girlfriends, and coolness in the world. However, I would never be accepted or successful because of my disability.

But, I was wrong. High school and my peers had no impact on my ultimately living a happy, successful life. The day that I graduated, virtually everything got better for me. I went from bullies calling me “retard,” to being a writer, speaker, and academic. I was soon invited to real parties, with amazing people, even getting to meet the President of the United States. And, while no relationship is perfect, I had my ultimate dances with amazing women since – loving, accepting, sincere. It all got better – remarkably better.

My daughter and I were planting Marigolds this spring in a flower bed in front of our home. It was a 70-degree sunny day, where our English bulldog lay on the ultra-green grass. And, although my life, again, isn’t perfect, I was reminded of all I’ve been blessed with – my daughter, a career that helps others, a nice home, the respect of those in my community – and I thought back to my days in high school, wondering where those who treated me poorly are today? Oddly, when I was on Capitol Hill recently, none were there. I don’t see any of them in magazines that I write for, or any with Internet followings. And, I have to wonder with a smile, is their grass as green as mine?

The fact is, while those who hurt you today in school may seem so powerful, they’ll soon enough get lost in the world. But, you. You were born into the extraordinary, with capacities toward life success that they’ll likely never realize. Let’s wish them well, but they don’t have what you have – that is, potential waiting to explode. And, it will, where your life is going to get better – remarkably better. You’re a survivor and a thriver, and that which seems to work against you now, will work for you soon. You’ve been given the gifts of tenacity, perseverance, and empathy – traits that are rocket fuel for life, just waiting to ignite your life in the most rewarding of ways.

My young friend, Morgan Duffy, graduates from Stanford University in a few weeks at this writing. She’s a Dalai Lama Fellow; she’s done an internship on Capitol Hill; and, she’s studied abroad. And, get this, she’s accepted a job with Genentech – without even applying (the recruiters found her based on her accomplishments). But, I’ll let Morgan’s own words explain the rest of her story:

So I’d like to tell you that I am your average 21 year old, living life and learning through mistakes and experiences. Most of my experiences, however, are less than average. Three years ago, I packed up my life and moved from the small city of Scranton, PA to begin my college education at Stanford University. I am a Cross Cultural Health and Intervention major with interests in disability, health policy, social justice, women’s health and choice. Like most, my interests are based in experience. I am a woman with a physical disability, who navigates the world in a wheelchair. And I like to feel the world beneath me in that way, taking each bump and knock consistently and steadily. My mother is a nurse, and through my years listening to her complain of the inefficiencies and inequities of modern US health, I have been motivated to learn how to change this. Social justice was the foundation of my high school career at Scranton Prep, and I have vowed to never forget.

Morgan isn’t an exception, she’s the rule – just as you are. You, too, will leave your town and “feel the world beneath you,” as Morgan puts it, going on to successes that won’t just change you, but will change the world.

It may all seem tough today, but the strength to hold on was born into you – there’s a purpose for who we each are, and yours is extraordinary. Tough out the tough times, as it all gets better, remarkably better. And, yes, the grass will be greener on the other side. I’ll see you there.

Find A Way

By Mark E. Smith

I’m not a miracle worker, but no matter what problem you throw at me, I can tell you in three words how to solve it: Find a way.

If there’s one life-changing, ever-empowering truth that disability experience has taught me, it’s that there’s always a way to resolve or accomplish what we wish – we just have to find a way to do it. It may not be initially evident; it may not be easy; it may not seem practical; and, it may even seem ludicrous. Yet, to any challenge or situation in life, there is a way to resolve it – we just have to find the way.

I often share the story of my shoe laces. For the first 25 years of my life, I couldn’t tie my own shoes based on my lack of dexterity and coordination. Now, in the grand scheme of life, not being able to tie one’s own shoes may not seem like a big deal – after all, there are far more serious limitations in life – but it was one of the last pieces to my physical independence. The ability to tie my own shoes meant the difference between being able to fully dress independently or forever rely on others.

For years, I tried all sorts of shoes, with all sorts of practice. But, alas, I could never coordinate shoe laces well enough to tie them. I even got to the point where I could make the loops, but as I went to cross them, all fell apart. It was forever frustrating, to say the least, right down to my brother having to tie my shoes on my wedding day.

Yet, after years of practice, trial, error, and failure, I was so close to tying my own shoes that I knew that I could do it – I just had to find a way. And, so I reanalyzed my process, and realized that where the issue was, was that when I went to cross the shoe lace loops, my poor coordination over-extended the shoelaces, causing them to come undone. If only I had more shoelace length to work with, I could cinch the loops before pulling the ends out…. And, in that was the answer: get longer shoelaces! Indeed, I found a way, and till this day, 72” shoelaces are the solution I use to tie my shoes. It wasn’t that I couldn’t tie my own shoes; rather, I simply had to find a way to do it.

Finding a way is amazing because it empowers us to find a solution to any problem rather than accepting it. A task or situation may seem impossible, but if we truly believe that there is a way to successfully solve it – we just have to find it – it inspires us to not just try, but try harder, as well as go into situations with a can-do attitude.

I admit, I’ve become pretty skilled at finding a way, where when I encounter a challenge, I don’t shy from it; rather, I go into find-a-way mode. I recently wanted to interview a business titan for a book I’m writing. The individual is bigger than life, worth an estimated $2-billion, and has an insanely busy schedule. I remember thinking, How am I going to track this individual down, let alone get a several-hour interview? The answer immediately struck me: Find a way.

I thought for a moment who might have the individual’s personal contact information – as I wanted to get direct to the source – and with a single email exchange, I scored both the individual’s and the individual’s assistant’s contact information. Bingo! I then sent an email to the assistant, and within 20 minutes, I had an interview scheduled. I flew to the individual’s headquarters, and ended up with an amazing two-hour interview. If I had told most folks who I wanted to interview and where, they would have thought it crazy. There’s no way you’ll pull that off, most would have said. However, knowing that I just had to find a way to pull it all together made the seemingly impossible ridiculously easy. There I was, having flown partly across the country, sitting in the individual’s stately office, hearing amazing, never-before-told stories to include in my book.

See, that’s the eloquence of find a way – it immediately makes the impossible totally plausible. Are you having difficulty accomplishing a goal? Find a way. Are you struggling to get the results in a particular aspect of your career that you want? Find a way. Do you want to make major changes to your life? Find a way. Do you want to live your dreams? Find a way!

No, anything truly worth striving for isn’t easy, nor without complications. But, if it’s truly worth doing – if you’re truly dedicated to accomplishing it – there’s a way to do it. Find it. Live it. Never give up hope, as there’s always a way….

Dream On

I never doubted that equal rights was the right direction. Most reforms, most problems are complicated. But to me there is nothing complicated about ordinary equality. -Alice Paul

By Mark E. Smith

When I was born, there was no humility in disability, just the medical authority calling people like me the vegetative minority. No, I couldn’t walk, speak or crawl; but, with my toddler eyes and ears, I saw and heard it all. Dream on.

And, as I grew, no one knew what my fate would be, a prognosis based on speculative hyperbole. But, still, with ignorance, everyone all labeled me – crippled. …Yep, that was me. Yet, inside hid the person I knew I could be. And, at night, when I cried — trapped by an ignorant society — even my mother couldn’t comfort me. Dream on.

When I was seven and sent to the back of the church, I was taught children like me didn’t go to Heaven. How could a God, who I came from, not let me with a disability into his kingdom? It wasn’t some Father’s place to say we aren’t anointed by the Lord based on physicality, when inside me, I knew I was appointed, worthy of spirituality. Dream on.

Mainstream education brought taunts and stares – kids who didn’t know better, teachers who didn’t care. I could read but I couldn’t write, so I bought a thrift-store typewriter and clicked the keys, teaching myself to type one night. And the words that flowed were bold and grew, and I knew I had something to say to the world – even at eight years old. That’s right. Dream on.

My family fell apart, ignorance toward my condition stung at my heart, and back in those days, a step into a store meant I could get in, and they had the right to refuse me service, a hypocrisy to no win. America the beautiful, the bold and the brave; but, my wheels of steel made everyone my master, gave me little more than the rights of slave. A country founded from oppression, surviving wars and the Depression, and I still I faced daily oppression? Stigmas did follow me, and I felt this: Where was truth in equality? Dream on.

But, for me segregation didn’t stop my education, and I wouldn’t give up my mind’s elevation. Heart strings tatter, but a spirit that wouldn’t shatter, I’d just move on; different day, same song. Things went wrong, but I’d move on. Dream on.

I remember at the prom when she wouldn’t dance with me, then going home that night, questioning my sexuality – for months it went on, the depression, a repeated song. I awoke in the hospital despite the pills taken, and it registered with me that I wasn’t a soul forsaken. I was who I was and just had to be me, why drown in self-loathing when I could swim in a sea – of acceptance. That had to be me. Dream on.

It all got easier as I went, worth the sweat and the tears that were spent – but who knows. I was always told that life goes as it goes till we grow old, and the forces that once held us down soon push us up from the ground. Our weaknesses become our strength, and those who’ve wronged us, we should thank – adversity from diversity is a character that we build, and successes that are earned create lives that are willed. Dream on.

Still, think what you will, but when I travel from the Pacific Northwest to Capitol Hill, there’s ground to be gained, equality sustained, where one nation for all is exactly where we fall – short. And, until everyone – regardless of disability, gender, sexual orientation, race, or religion, of unity, not division –is seen as humanly proficient, not different or deficient, I will continue to question America, the bold, the beautiful, and the brave as it holds up discrimination and prejudice to save – yes, even in this so-called progressive age. Until there’s equality for all, as a nation we fall. But, as for me, I’m optimistic. I dream on.

Days of Powdered Milk

By Mark E. Smith

People keep asking me about the recent issues – actually, I don’t even know what to call them – at The Scooter Store, leaving a reported 1,800 people out of work on “furlough,” many in a region of the country where jobs are hard to come by.

As I’ve explained to a few, I don’t know any more about the situation than what’s been posted on news outlets. However, what I do know is that I feel deeply for the employees and their families. See, these are 1,800 hard-working Americans, doing jobs as phone operators, data processors, delivery drivers, and virtually every other honest position one can hold. They are moms and dads, some single parents, some working their way through school, most paying bills on Friday and going to church on Sunday. Indeed, for me, there’s not a story about The Scooter Store, but 1,800 stories, ones of how the rent will get paid, ones of keeping gas in the car, ones of, How do we survive as a family from here?

I truly don’t know precisely what the 1,800 families of The Scooter Store are going through, as I have a good-paying career and don’t need to worry about rent or gas these days. However, I come from a very humble background of being poor at times as a child – I remember being in food lines with my mom to get big boxes of government powdered milk and blocks of cheese – and it’s stuck with me my whole life, never wanting to go back to that. And, so, I can only imagine how scary this time is for the 1,800 families of The Scooter Store, including their children.

Beyond the fear of being broke and hungry, I also relate to the all-American work ethic that most of The Scooter Store employees personify. Folks are sometimes kind to note my talent based on the volume of my career, but it’s truly an allusion. Really, at the heart of what I do is simply an intense work ethic, where I keep my mouth shut, my head down, and do the best possible job I can in any given situation. And, I learned long ago to never say no to any type of work, no matter the task or amount – because that’s what it takes to survive. Nashville for a conference? Sure. L.A. for the Abilities Expo the next week? Of course. All of my other duties, and working on a book at the same time? Not a problem – I’ll do it all. I don’t care how heavy the work load, how tough the independent travel, how exhausting the schedule, I’m just grateful to have the work. And, I forever watch, listen, and learn as I go.

See, when you know where you come from – just poor – and you know that you can go back to that at any time, and the only line between then and now is hard work, you work really hard, like your life depends on it – because it does. Mine does.

Disability experience teaches us all a lot in that way, where often all we have to get us through is pure tenacity, and when we rely on that, it’s really all that we need. Talent and luck can get you so far, but just good ol’ back-breaking hard work is among the truest keys to not just surviving but thriving. And, when something doesn’t work out, you’re ready to employ Plan B, C, and D, doing whatever it takes.

My brother is presently a great example of a life fueled by tenacity and back-breaking work. He’s a master tile setter, living in a very expensive part of the country. In order to afford a home for his family, he lives three hours from the city where he works. He gets up at 2am, six days per week, drives three hours to work, sets tile all day, then drives three hours home – generally just to go to bed and get up and do it again. So, why does he do it? Well, he knows the value of hard work and keeping the lights on. We were in government food lines together, and he never wants to go back there, either. He couldn’t afford to give his wife and daughters the lifestyle he wished in the city, so he moved where they could afford, making remarkable personal sacrifices in the process. He’s no genius or extraordinary talent; rather, he’s just working really, really hard.

And, for the 1,800 employees of The Scooter Store, who worked really, really hard, and now find themselves wondering how to pay the rent and keep gas in the car, my sentiment is this: Let’s not allow these families to get lost in a news story about whatever becomes of The Scooter Store; rather, let us each remind ourselves where we come from, and how scary it would be to be out of work, maybe even waiting in a food line for government boxes of powdered milk and blocks of cheese. Most of all, let’s keep those 1,800 Scooter Store employees in our prayers.

Jumping Off Cliffs

Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. -Steve Jobs

Mark E. Smith

At what points do you throw logic and reason and expert opinions and friendly advice into the wind and just believe in yourself? Everyone in the world can tell you that if you jump off of that proverbial cliff you’re going to die. Yet, you know something they don’t: You’ve jumped off of that cliff many times, and haven’t just survived, you’ve soared.

There’s a lot of value to following others’ advice, to not making the mistakes they’ve made. Yet, what about what you know, what about what you’ve learned, what about the power that your spirit has taught you, truths that others — more realistic, more grounded, with less vision — simply don’t know or understand? Maybe you have done the seemingly impossible, maybe you have seen fairy tales come true, maybe you have experienced what others will never understand is possible. Why let the ordinary dictate your life when you can live the extraordinary.

I look back on my own life, and if I had listened to anyone but my own potential, will, and heart, I wouldn’t be here, period. I was supposed to be a vegetable, with no cognitive skills. I was supposed to fail as among the first mainstream students. I was supposed to never have kids or career or live independently. I was never supposed to accomplish virtually everything I’ve accomplished. I’ve always been told that I’ll never succeed at this or that. But, every time I’ve found myself perched on a cliff, where everyone — following the rules of gravity, medicine, psychology, social norms — told me that I was destine for failure, I’ve just looked back, smiled a confident grin, and jumped, never hitting the ground but soaring.

Of course we, ourselves, can be our biggest roadblocks, where past disappointments and fears can keep us from making life-changing leaps of faith. I’m not going to apply for that job because I’ll never get it…. I’m not going to pursue that relationship because it’s just going to end in heartache…. I’m not going to follow my dream because it’s too unrealistic…. No, if we’re ever to achieve what we truly want and deserve, it requires us to make huge leaps of faith at times. We don’t know we can soar till we make the leap.

You’re going to find yourself at crossroads in life, perched on cliffs of decision, where everyone is going to give you advice, telling you it will never work, you’ll never succeed, you’re in denial, you’re destine for failure. Maybe you’ll even doubt yourself. But, if you simply trust that we all can accomplish the seemingly impossible, that fairy tales can come true, then you’re going to look back at the crowd, maybe even look at your own fears, smile a confident grin — because your heart and spirit know best — and you’re not just going to jump, you’re going to soar. All it takes is that one leap of faith to better your life forever.

The Real American Dream

By Mark E. Smith

We often hear of the American Dream, but what does that really mean? In my home, it means a lot – because we’re living it.

This past week, I was in Atlanta, working with the Georgia Association of Medical Equipment Services, advocating at the Capitol and its Legislature for sustained mobility funding and disability-related services.

Before I left, my daughter and I sat at our kitchen table, and laid out our 2013 schedules, finances, and priorities. As a family – even though it’s just the two of us – we must be on the same page, as a team, pursuing my goals, her goals, and most importantly, our goals as a family building a legacy.

At just turning 16, my daughter is on her high school’s honor role, and on an Ivy-League track toward college, leaning heavily toward an ultimate doctorate in psychology. She plays and holds a seat not just in the school band, but regional orchestra, too, and is next auditioning for the state level in March. She’s a member of the National Thespian Society, where she acts, as well as serves as Secretary for her troop, and she’s a gallery-shown photographer. This summer, she’s attending George Mason University, where she was nominated as among the top 250 youth leaders in the country, and she’s also volunteering as a counselor at a muscular dystrophy summer camp. Yes, the kid is freakin’ awesome, nailing life at 16!

My career continues in full swing, where I have more corporate, advocacy, writing, and speaking projects lined up than in the history of my career, and what I’ve accomplished in just the first month of the year makes my head spin. Again, I was in Atlanta last week – recently back from Detroit! – now I have a radio interview, magazine columns (both in print and in process), a MDA Muscle Walk fundraiser, which I’m helping coordinate, an on-going book project, engagements in Nashville, and Los Angeles, and a full-time corporate job, message board, and weekly blog. And, that only gets me to mid March! (Then it’s Capitol Hill time, Abilities Expos… you get the idea….)

Yet, as a family, my daughter and I not only have to annually budget time, but also finances. We take money management very seriously in our home, where it’s not just about wealth-building and security, but “stewardship.” We believe that what we’re blesses with isn’t truly ours, but that we manage it for a greater good. We live totally debt free, put necessity before want, share with others, and give as much as we can to charity. We don’t live with a scarcity mindset, where we hoard for ourselves; rather, we live an abundant mindset, where there’s enough for us to really enjoy life and not worry, but we have the ability to give generously, as we believe giving to others is the absolute most fun that one can have with money (and, it’s the reason why we’re “stewards” of income – that is, to ultimately do good with it for others, as opposed to seeing it as ours to keep).

But, here’s what struck me about our 2013 family schedules, finances, and priorities meeting: We’re living the American Dream. In two generations – mine, now my daughter’s – we’ve changed our family tree beyond what many would deem possible. The number of firsts for us is astounding. Although a non-traditional family of just the two of us – there’s no mother figure in our family photos – we personify the American Dream.

See, it’s easy to look at me in a suit and tie traveling the country, speaking to audiences, or read my magazine columns, or know of my corporate career, or see me sunning on my boat or jetting off to Vegas, and say, Sure, Mark, life is easy for you when you and your daughter have money and opportunity….

However, the fact is, I was born into less than nothing, with the four generations before me living in abject poverty, all addicts, most serving prison time, none with an education, most just to steal and harm whoever they could. As I open some of my speaking engagements, On the day I was born, my grandfather was in prison, a lifelong criminal; my grandmother was a heroin-addicted prostitute; my father was an alcoholic, drinking in a bar at noon; and, as I was born on that day, I wasn’t breathing….

And, my family tree got worse from there. My grandmother called my mother on the phone and shot herself in the head, committing suicide. My grandfather died of a heroin overdose after endless years of prison time. Both my parents were Skid Row alcoholics, dead by the time I was 40. And, it all made sense, going back for generations on both sides of my family.

So, how did my daughter and I end up here today? Well, there’s been a lot of hurt, pain, struggle, and success in-between; but for me, it all started with getting myself in and out of a bathtub at age 11, where I simply learned that with unyielding tenacity and vision, my potentials could extend as far as I wished. I couldn’t just change the direction of my family tree, I could grow my own. …And, I did.

I was the first one ever to graduate high school in four generations. I was the first to go through college. I was the first to never serve jail time. I was the first to have a career. I was the first to own and invest. I was the first to not be an addict of any sort. I was the first to not do what those before me and around me had done, but to live by a radically different moral and ethical compass. I was the first to live the American Dream.

Yet, the climb has never been linear. Many of the ghosts of my heritage have chased me at times. At 17, I awoke in intensive care after my own failed suicide attempt. I got myself horribly in debt in my 20s. And, I have yet to sustain a life-long romantic relationship. Yet, every time I’ve fallen down, I’ve used second chances, which we all have, to make things right. I immediately got into counseling at 17; I worked my way out of debt in my early 30s; and, at this writing, I’m currently in counseling, striving to take accountability for a string of ended relationships, and get this whole love life thing right. Indeed, the beauty of the American Dream is it gives each of us the chance to change the directions of our lives at any time and redefine who we are. Again, we can get knocked down and fall down, but we have the chance and the choice to get up stronger every time. And, I’ve never passed on that opportunity.

And, while my daughter’s life hasn’t been a piece of cake, either – her mother ultimately unable to break free of her past and demons, to the point where she hasn’t been in my daughter’s life – my daughter has taken the torch of the American Dream, and ran with it. What we’ve both learned is that life isn’t what you’ve been born into; rather, it’s what you make of it, and despite hardships and hurt, you can move through it all, day by day, hurdle by hurdle, to success that you’ve earned by simply striving to do right – that’s living the American Dream.

Attitude of Gratitude

By Mark E. Smith

I want to talk to you about being our own brain surgeons, rewiring our thought processes from the negative to the positive. You don’t need a medical degree to do this; just a willingness to choose to see one over the other.

See, it’s proven that our brains are naturally more attracted to negative thoughts than positive thoughts. You might say that negativity has a larger imprint than positivity in the physicality of our brains. Clinically, it’s called the “Negativity Bias.”

The way the negativity bias works is that when, for example, twenty people tell you how great your hair looks, and one person says that he or she doesn’t like it, that one put-down will stick with you every time you look in the mirror. And, we know from psychology that those constantly exposed to abusive relationships – constant put-downs – they lose the ability altogether to recognize what’s positive and healthy, drawn toward negativity like magnets.

I don’t know where my wires got crossed, but I’m just the opposite – positivity has a much bigger imprint on my brain than negativity. I call it my attitude of gratitude, where I just feel blessed no matter what. And, I probably shouldn’t have such a positive outlook, based on the cumulative adversity and negativity that I’ve faced in my life. I mean, the list is endless. However, what’s remarkable is that I’m not the only one. I’m forever impressed by my peer, Nick Vujicic. Nick was born without arms or legs, among the severest of disabilities you’ll ever see. And, in school, the bullying and social stigmas never ended, where Nick, in his own words, was the local freak show. Yet, while such a horrendous childhood would blacken most people’s hearts, it actually opened Nick’s. Today, at age 30, he’s the most sought-after inspirational speaker in the world, has a New York Times best-selling book, and a wife with their first child on the way. And, although Nick can’t drive, he owns his beloved classic hot rod car. No arms, no legs, but with his attitude of gratitude, Nick is literally Unstoppable (the title of his best-seller, by the way), among the most positive, loving people you’ll ever meet.

Nick proves a profound lesson to all of us: How to truly live. Why let the negativity of your life – or even physiology of the brain – dictate our potentials when we can be our own brain surgeons, so to speak, and dictate positive life paths over negative ones?

Speaking for myself, there’s little room in my head or heart for anything but joy and gratitude. I know that for every negative emotion, there’s a more powerful, productive one. Why argue when you can hug; why question when you can understand; why be bitter when you can be thankful; why condemn when you can uplift; why be offensive when you can be gracious? Why not just love and be loved? It’s the greatest, easiest, most-fulfilling way to live. No one or nothing can do you wrong because you only know what’s right. How powerful is that!

I encourage you to take a look at your life, define the negativity from the positivity, and steer your life toward the positives. See the sunshine through the clouds, and focus on that. It may be scary at first. It may require you to make major changes in your life. It may even require you to be a bit humble and apologize toward those you’ve wronged through being trapped in negativity. However, that’s the beauty of the “Negativity Bias” – it’s just a bias, and biases can be changed. You are a brain surgeon, skilled enough to switch your thinking – make that, your life! – from the negative to the positive. Shift from a negative to a positive bias, and open your heart – I guarantee that your life will head in directions that you never dreamed.

When a Smell Isn’t a Smelll

By Mark E. Smith

My daughter and I were talking about the horrors of care facilities, and one in particular came up that I’ve visited, where the odor was overwhelming.

“They should hire you to fix that kind of place,” she said, with a belief in me that only an adoring daughter can have in her father.

“It’s not that easy,” I said. “See, in order to make it a better place, I’d have to get rid of the bad smell, and that’s a huge task.”

“How hard could that be?” she asked. “It’s just a smell.”

“Really hard,” I said. “The smell isn’t just a smell. It represents what’s called systemic issues. The smell is caused by much larger issues.”

“Like what?” my daughter asked. “Can’t you just get rid of a smell?”

“Not in this case,” I replied. “See, the smell is caused by overall improper care, from soiled bedding to poor hygiene care of clients. In order to get rid of the smell, you’d have to change the entire infrastructure of care.”

“How would you do that?” she asked.

“Well, you’d start with the management and work your way down – leadership is where accountability for the smell starts, but not where it ends. Every employee there is ultimately accountable.” I explained. “You’d have to change the way everything is done, retrain staff, probably fire some and hire some. But, once the smell was gone by dramatically changing the way everything is done, you’d have among the best run facilities in the country.”

“So, to get rid of the smell, you have to get rid of the real problems, and that starts with the people who run the place because they’re allowing all of the problems to happen, right?” she asked.

“Exactly,” I said. “You have to find the root causes and fix them. Someday you’ll learn in life that most often a seemingly small symptom is the result of a very complex cause – from relationships to business. … A smell is never just a smell in these cases. Always look deeper.”

I Am Who I Am

By Mark E. Smith

I’m heading back to Detroit at this writing. It seems that city, which has far more going for it than most realize, can’t get enough of me. This trip, I’m giving the keynote address at a healthcare leadership conference for doctors and hospital executives. My theme is,”The Quality of a Practitioner’s Character Dictates the Quality of Care.”

See, I know a little bit about the subject – or, more aptly, I’ve known the impact of a practitioner’s character on patients’ care since right before my birth.

Twenty minutes or so before my birth, my mother was given an epidural, a routine anesthesia to lessen the pain of child birth. However, an incorrect amount was given by the anesthesiologist – a massive overdose – resulting in my mother not breathing, with me quickly born not breathing, as well. To make matters worse, the delivery room staff forgot to have an infant respirator in the room or even on that hospital floor, and when they did get one, it had a hole in it, not properly maintained. I was manually resuscitated by the delivery doctor, minutes of brain-damaging loss of oxygen having passed.

It later came out in court that, in an attempt to bolster his income, the anesthesiologist was illegally moonlighting, working revolving shifts unbeknownst to anyone between a military hospital and the public hospital where I was born. By his own admission, he had been working 90 hours, with virtually no sleep, when he administered my mother’s overdose of anesthesia.

Now, it is true that there was a snowball effect. The overdose of the anesthesia caused me to stop breathing, then the lack of an infant respirator prolonged my loss of appropriate oxygen, and then the final broken infant respirator was simply a topping on the cake, you might say. And, it all culminated in my severe cerebral palsy.

Again, I know a little bit about how the quality of a practitioner’s character dictates the quality of care.

Now, there are a lot of potentially different outcomes looking back. If the anesthesiologist hadn’t given my mother the overdose, everyone agreed that I wouldn’t have cerebral palsy. However, what if a nurse had ensured that an infant respirator was in the room – would that slight attention to detail have prevented my condition? Or, what if someone ensured that the broken respirator was repaired – would that slight attention to detail have lessened my condition?

The answers in my case are, no one will ever know. What happened, happened. And, truly, it’s of no concern to me. I’m proud of what I’ve made of my life, where it’s about potentials, not limitation, where it’s about passion for what I have, not longing for what I might have lost. I am who I am because of who I am – and I would never change that. I would never change me.

Yet, for others to come, my experience does teach a valuable lesson: The quality of a practitioner’s character does dictate the quality of care.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, my publicist and I have a plane to catch. Cerebral palsy, no matter – I’m rock-starring this gig!