Tag: Living with disability

Living as Josh Does

By Mark E. Smith

Twenty-one-year-old Josh has been an increasingly remarkable spirit in my life since I met him four years ago. I’ve never known a young person with such wisdom and insight, making our recent conversation par for the course based on Josh’s amazing character.

Josh was diagnosed in his adolescence with a very progressive form of muscular dystrophy. However, unlike many others with his prognosis, the disease didn’t progress as rapidly as usual – that is until approximately two years ago. In fact, when I first met Josh, he was still walking, using a mobility scooter for longer distances. Yet, in the last two years, the disease caught up with him, dramatically diminishing muscle tone. I’ve seen Josh go from drinking from a soda can normally, to struggling to lift it with two hands; and, I’ve seen Josh go from walking to not being able to transfer himself from a power wheelchair.

Make no mistake, the physical realities of Josh’s condition are disheartening. But, the lessons learned and the personal growth that’s resulted from his challenges have been inspiring, teaching us both invaluable lessons along the way.

Josh and I have traveled a lot together, working trade shows, summer camps, and advocacy events. We’ve lobbied the halls of Capitol Hill, and rock-starred it in Los Angeles. However, the heart of our friendship has been formed from our weekly phone calls, where every Thursday, Josh and I talk on the phone, tossing around subjects ranging from relationships to dealing with disability to music. My role is supposed to be that of mentor, but Josh has so much wisdom and is so reflective of the struggles and victories that we all face, that I often think I learn more from him than he does from me.

One of Josh’s recent victories – and a process that we talked about for many months – was his driving independently via an accessible van. After a year and a $120,000 in technology, Josh now independently drives a van with ultra-high-end hand controls that are closer to resembling those that control an airplane more so than a car. And, for his first long-distance drive this summer, he drove 3-1/2 hours to vacation at a lake where he vacationed often as a child.

When we spoke the week after his vacation, he explained to me that the trip was ultimately a realization for him: Most of the activities that he could do as a teen – boating, fishing, and so on – were no longer feasible or easily accomplished, that he realized in very real terms the progression of his condition.

I, of course, asked how he felt about his sudden realization of the progression of his condition? And, his answer was a lesson for all of us. Josh explained that what realizing how much his condition has progressed made him intimately understand is the importance of making the most of today because we don’t know what tomorrow brings.

I couldn’t have been prouder of Josh’s insight because it demonstrated a perspective that we should all live by: Being bitter or regretful of our pasts – or of what’s seemingly been lost – is pointless. Valuing our present – no matter the circumstances – is truly what it’s about.

Moving well beyond disability, think about how many of us dwell on past relationships, childhood trauma, lost jobs – you name it – where rather than accepting, healing, and evolving to live fully in the present, we just get stuck in the past. Josh could have likewise gotten caught in the past, returning home bitter as to what his condition has done. Instead, he recognized the past as just that – gone, done, over – and was even more inspired to appreciate whatever abilities that he has today. It’s kind of like rather than dwelling on how bad your past relationship was, you focus on how great the current one is – that’s how you move forward.

And, if there’s a single lesson that Josh teaches us, it’s to live in the present, simply appreciating all that we have today.

Getting Away with Murder

By Mark E. Smith

When she shouted, “Quick, get his gun!” I should have known it all would go downhill from there….

This all started with a group of us anchored in an empty cove, sunbathing on my boat after an afternoon of swimming. I was stretched out on a front lounge when I heard the sirens, poking my head up to see a patrol boat coming toward us, lights flashing – water cops, we call them.

I sit up, and my crew looks puzzled, the water cop pulling beside us. “Is everyone alright onboard?” he asks, shutting off his engine.

“Uh, yeah,” everyone says at once. We’re a mix of parents, teens, and toddlers, kicking back in 85-degree weather. The stereo isn’t even on.

“May I have permission to board?” the water cop asks.

“Absolutely,” I say.

With his boat loosely tied to mine, the water cop jumps from his fore deck, on to mine. And, in the process, his handgun tumbles from its holster, bouncing off of the front boarding deck of my boat.

With kids onboard, and not wanting the water cop’s gun to fall in the lake, my friend screams, “Quick, get his gun!”

But, the water cop doesn’t know he lost his gun, and reaches for his empty holster in an immediate panic. “It’s by your feet,” I say.

He picks up his gun, puts it in the holster, and snaps it shut, regaining his composure. “Has anyone been drinking today?”he asks.

“No,” everyone answers.

“Whose vessel is this?” he asks.

“Mine,” I reply.

“What year were you born?” he asks, and glances at my wheelchair sitting behind the helm, then back at me.

“1971,” I reply, knowing that my age exempts me from needing a boating license. “But, I have my boater’s license, Coast Guard Auxiliary certification, and Auxiliary boat certification. And, my daughter over there has her Red Cross CPR and water certifications. Want to see all of them?”

“No, you’re fine,” he says, leaning over my wheelchair to read both the gauge on my helm-mounted fire extinguisher, and the tag on my throwable floatation device – required safety gear.

“How long is this vessel?” he asks?”

“Twenty-two feet,” I reply.

“Well, it’s good that the kids are wearing life vests,” he says, knowing that they legally don’t have to wear them all of the time on a boat this big.

“I need to see an emergency life vest for every adult on board,” he says.

Everyone stands up, opens all compartments, piling the deck with 20 assorted life vests – all high-quality ski vests, not cheap orange ones. “Why do you have so many vests,” he asks.

“I entertain a lot, so I have a few in every size,” I reply.

“Smart,” he says. “Do you mind if I look under the rear sundeck?”

“No,” I say, and my daughter and her friend scoot off of it.

The rear sundeck opens into a changing room that contains a commode, as well. The water cop fumbles around trying to open it, but no one gives him advice. Finally, he opens it, seeing the commode sitting there, the compartment otherwise empty. He shuts the sundeck, and returns to midship. “Did anyone have difficulty swimming today?” he asks.

“Nope,” everyone replies.

“We got a call that this vessel pulled a body from the lake, and put it in the rear of the vessel,” the water cop says. “The call was from a house on shore.”

We all look at each other, and know exactly what he’s talking about, but play dumb. “Sorry to disappoint the neighbors, but we’re just having a quiet family day on the lake,” I say.

The water cop thanks us for our patience, wishes us well, and heads off in his boat. And, we all laugh like heck, knowing that the neighbor saw my brother-in-law pull me from the water and drag me to the rear changing room so that I could put on dry clothes. “See how easy it is to get away with murder,” I say, and everyone laughs as they stuff life vests back into storage compartments.

Consider the Source

By Mark E. Smith

Have you ever noticed how quick others are to make negative, diminishing comments as to your value as a person, from little snipes to direct put-downs? Often those closest to us are the worst offenders, using words to painfully try to degrade us. I remember as a very young child, my father constantly implying that I would never amount to anything due to my disability, and as much as the sting of that stays with me till this day, from as young as I can recall, I somehow had the insight to know that he was among the least qualified men on Earth to assess my “value.” The reality was, he was an unemployed alcoholic, who went on to be the poster boy for deadbeat dads – not exactly someone who should have been throwing stones in his glass house. If I could have expressed it at that young age, I would have gladly said, Remind me again how that beer can in your hand qualifies you as ultimate judge of my potential? You might say that I learned to “consider the source” at a very young age as to others’ assessments of me.

Of course, my father was no exception. It’s downright alarming how quick many are to strive to diminish others’ “value,” and it’s even more alarming how readily many take it to heart, feeling lesser because of what others have said. …Don’t be silly, you’ll never accomplish that. …Why would anyone ever love someone like you? …You’ll never amount to anything… I mean, I’m keeping my examples here tame compared to how vicious some can be – words from others that sting, scar, and damage. Think about how many children have had their dreams crushed, or how many spouses have had their self-worth shattered, by so-called loved ones diminishing their value with spiteful, hurtful, abusive words. Maybe you, too, have been there?

However, here’s what’s ironic about those who strive to diminish your value: They are not just morally wrong, they’re factually wrong. Assuming you’re living an integrity-based life, no one ever has a right to assess your value as a person – not your parents, not your significant other, not your friends, no one. While none of us are perfect – we all can always grow and improve – you are intrinsically “enough,” where you deserve to be embraced, wholly, as-is. No one gets a vote as to your intrinsic value – ever. You – and your higher power, if you practice such – are the sole deciding factor toward who you are, and what you can achieve, point blank.

What’s even more telling is when we consider the source of such verbal attacks. It’s never anyone of real merit. The Dali Lama or President never call to tell us how worthless we are. Rather, it’s always a bitter, deeply-troubled person – an alcoholic parent, spiteful spouse, or teen bully – who has no right to judge anyone. We know that anyone who’s compelled to belittle others to make oneself feel better is really projecting one’s own horrendous self image onto others.

I live my life very simply. I set my value high, where I know that I bring a vast offering to the table of life. Cerebral palsy is part of who I am, but not all of who I am. Yet, if someone is to be in my life at a sincere level, he or she must truly love and accept me wholly, as-is – no exceptions. In return, I love and accept others wholly, as-is. It’s these reciprocated, unconditional relationships that elevate our lives to levels of love, trust, and safety that are greater than many have ever known.

The next time someone takes a verbal swing at your value – not accepting you wholly, as-is – consider the source and don’t give such ignorant words credit. Little people say belittling things. Know that you are a giant in comparison, where you have unlimited potential to not just rise above all, but to truly soar.

Failing Greatly

By Mark E. Smith

Anyone who saw the movie, Apollo 13 – or never saw the film! – knows the iconic phrase, Failure isn’t an option.

Indeed, the phrase is inspirational and catchy, now part of our motivational lexicon. However, here’s what few know: Not only was the phrase a fictional creation for the film and book, but it was derived from the NASA Control Room philosophy that really meant that quitting was never an option.

See, the catch phrase was skewed from an interview where Apollo 13 flight controller, Jerry Bostick, said, “…When bad things happened, we just calmly laid out all the options, and failure was not one of them. We never panicked, and we never gave up on finding a solution.”

Truly, what Bostick expressed was that failures – or, in his words, “bad things” – occurred all of the time, but what the flight control team did was never quit, they never gave up on finding solutions. They wouldn’t accept a failure as an end-all.

That’s such a vital distinction: Failures are bound to occur in virtually all that we do. However, quitting in the face of them is not an option. In fact, among the greatest people and accomplishments have always been born from huge failures. Babe Ruth struck-out 1,330 times. Henry Ford went broke five times. Jack Canfield’s Chicken Soup for the Soul manuscript was rejected by 140 publishers. James Dyson’s vacuum had 5,127 failed prototypes.

Of course, these catastrophic failures lead to among the greatest success stories in history. Babe Ruth, is arguably the greatest baseball player of all time. Henry Ford revolutionized manufacturing and the automobile. Chicken Soup for the Soul has sold 130 million copies. And, the Dyson vacuum became a market leader, changing its industry.

As Confucius put it, “Our greatest glory is not in never failing but in rising every time we fail.” As Samuel Beckett put it, “Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.” And, as President John F. Kennedy put it, “Only those who dare to fail greatly can achieve greatly.”

All of these great men – as well as all wise individuals – know that failure is part of the path to success. Learning always involves failure – it’s why students study, athletes practice, and businessmen develop. Failure is “practice making perfect.”

Now, I’ve outlined a few extraordinary examples of huge failures leading to astounding successes. However, failure – and how we address it – plays an even more important role in our personal, everyday lives. If we fail, and quit as a result, we lose everything, it’s game over. Yet, if like the greats that I’ve previously noted, if we fail, but keep striving, finding new approaches and solutions, learning and growing, we will ultimately succeed. No matter if it’s my two year-old niece who was frustrated by a baby gate, so she used her toy box as a ladder to climb over it, or my friend who went on over 30 job interviews before landing his dream job, both experienced failure after failure, but followed through with a tenacity to success.

As for me, my life remains one big failure. From my daily living skills, to my career, to my relationships, to my parenting, truly, there’s nothing that I haven’t failed at. Heck, I’m failing at this very writing as I create the first draft (by the time you read this essay, I will have failed with four or five drafts). But, I don’t give up, ever. There’s nothing too physically tough, too intellectually challenging, to financially burdensome, too emotionally harrowing for me to ultimately succeed at. Sure, again, I will – and have! – fail at many aspects of life, unquestionably many more times to come. But, failure doesn’t scare or deter me; rather, failure drives me to push harder. Through failures, I learn, I grow, I adapt, I change my approach, and eventually I succeed. I’m going to fail, but in that process, I know that I’m moving closer to success.

I don’t know what challenges – read that, failures – you’re facing in your life right now. However, try shifting your perspective to a mode where you see failures as direct paths toward success. Does it take perseverance? Yes. Does it take determination? Of course. Does it take patience? Sure. But, does it ultimately lead to success? Absolutely. After all, without failures, there is no success.

Sinking Ships Save Lives

By Mark E. Smith

I was at my boat dealership readying my boat for its summer launch, when I heard a commotion. It was a guy yelling about some issue with his $90,000 boat, dry-docked next to his Range Rover, with his blond, breast-implanted wife and couple of kids standing beside him. As I tuned in to his yelling, he was furious that the cabin on his boat hadn’t been vacuumed, part of the dealership’s summer launch package. And, as I waxed my boat, I thought, Oh joy – another A-hole who has no clue as to how blessed he is. I should go punch him in the face, and teach him a bit about appreciating life via a broken nose.

Now, there’s a good bet that a tool like him is in debt up to his ears. Still, life has to be a piece of cake when you have luxuries like a sport cruiser, high-end SUV, and breast implants. But, most importantly, everyone in his family seemed strikingly healthy – the biggest blessing of all. Yet, Mr. Tool seemed oblivious to all of it, where apparently his life is so easy – read that, so lacking of appreciation – that his only concern is screaming at a 19-year-old, who makes $8 an hour working his ass off – about his boat not being vacuumed. Again, I say that we tattoo A-hole on Mr. Tool’s forehead just to forewarn everyone he encounters.

Yet, Mr. Tool isn’t unique. We run into people everyday who have zero appreciation for all that’s in their lives. I was in line at Wal-Mart, and heard the clerk ask each person in front of me how he or she was? Each person had something negative to say, whining about this or that. I thought to myself, You’re healthy enough to to be shopping, with enough money to pay for groceries – life is great, so quit your complaining.

So, when I got to the check-out, I asked the clerk if anyone ever gave her an enthusiastic, positive response? Her answer, “Never – you’d be amazed at how miserable people are.”

No I wouldn’t. I know countless people with everything to be thankful for; yet, they make themselves miserable based on a looming lack of appreciation. People with committed marriages are miserable. People with great jobs are miserable. People with supportive families are miserable. People in great health are miserable. In plain terms, people who are blessed beyond belief will tell you how terrible their lives are – and I find it a repugnant mindset.

All of this led me to the question of, Why are people who are so fortunate so miserable and ungrateful?

It turns out that there’s a scientific basis for misery and a lack of appreciation by those who are truly blessed with love, success, and financial security. An article in the August 2010 issue of Psychological Science demonstrates that while the various forms of success in our lives can elevate us by class, status, and wealth, it simultaneously can impair our ability to enjoy or appreciate life, itself. It turns out that when we experience the success that life has to offer, it can numb us toward savoring the seemingly smaller – but ultimately important – parts of life, like being grateful for life, itself. As the study describes, it’s not unlike that “new car feeling,” where most appreciate a new car for a few weeks, but then lose gratitude toward it. Mr. Tool being pissed about his boat is merely emblematic that he’s lost the ability to realize how blessed he is in the most important ways, as with having a loving wife and two healthy kids. He’s allowed himself to lose humility and perspective by being blinded by good fortune.

The key, then, for all of us is to maintain a sense of perspective on our lives. Using myself as an example, I enjoy the material things I’ve earned – and feel blessed to have them, genuinely appreciating aspects like my career, house, boat, and van. However, truly, if I lost everything I have, I’d still be fulfilled as long as those close to me were healthy and happy, with my daughter being number one. You can fire me; burn down my house down; sink my boat; and, crash my van. Heck, give me a horrible disease in addition to my cerebral palsy. But, as long as my daughter is healthy and happy, I have no right to complain about anything, ever.

And, that’s what we all need to do at this moment: Remind ourselves of how blessed we are at the core levels of our lives, and approach the rest of life with a genuine sense of gratitude, right down to just being thrilled to be in line at Wal-Mart with a bunch of miserable people.

What The Real Question Is

By Mark E. Smith

My friend was recently interviewed on a television show. And, based on my friend being a triple amputee, the subject of sex came up, and the interviewer was bold enough to ask, “Can you?”

My friend answered, “Yes, I do well,” and both he and the interviewer chuckled.

However, I sat on the edge of my seat waiting for the real question to be asked relating to the subject: “What about true trust and emotional intimacy – are you capable of having that?”

But, the question was never asked, keeping on par with how skewed both our personal and cultural perspectives on sexuality are.

I mean, many question whether those with disabilities can have sex, and it’s an assumed that those who are able-bodied can have sex. Yet, few ever ask anyone or ourselves, Are you truly capable of exceptional trust and emotional intimacy? – which is a far bigger part of sexuality than the physicality of jumping in bed (which is absurdly easy). In fact, the physicality of sex is often a mask or mechanism to avoid true intimacy. For many, physically engaging in sex is far easier than engaging in emotional intimacy – there’s less vulnerability involved. Physically acting is easy; opening ourselves up to be emotionally vulnerable is a much tougher, scary process. I read a wonderful quote that said, “Truly making love means allowing ourselves to be emotionally vulnerable and finding security and pleasure in it.”

I see many of my peers – regardless of disability – who use sex as a way to avoid real feelings, or confuse it for feelings. If we have esteem issues, body image issues, vulnerability issues, having sex is a quick, validating fix. I must be a real man because she’s having sex with me – see I am worthy! But, such superficial validation is never lasting (and often merely has negative results on our emotional issues in the long run – the validation leaves with the sex). Sure, feeling desired in the moment can chase away all kinds of insecurities. But, once the moment passes, all of our emotional struggles are still there, only magnified for the worse. Put simply, physical sex for the wrong motives can often drive us farther apart from real intimacy with others, and emotionally isolate us further.

In this way, we often have the process backward: Sex doesn’t lead to true trust and intimacy; rather, true trust and intimacy leads to great, healthy relationships – and all of that leads to truly healthy sexual experiences that then encompass the mind, body, and soul (it’s the difference between staring at the ceiling versus making the Earth stop in its rotation, time standing still).

Therefore, forget the question of, Can you have sex? It’s an absurd, moot point. And, start asking the question of, Are you capable of true trust and emotional intimacy? It’s only then that we’re on our way to deep, loving, lasting relationships.

There’s No Problem

By Mark E. Smith

Authors of online “blogs” are always tracking the statistics of their readerships. And, here’s a statistic of my readership that horrifies me: 25% of you will die of a drug-related death. No, I’m not talking heroin or cocaine or any illicit drug. Rather, it’s the prescribed medications – the benzos, the oxys, the hydros – that, statistically 50% of you are addicted to, will kill half of you. It’s a catch phrase known as “accidental overdose,” or more discretely, such conditions known as “heart arrhythmia.”

See, according to government statistics, those with disabilities are four times as likely to be substance abusers than the general population, and 50% of those with spinal cord injuries, for example, are addicts. Think about that: If you go to a disability event, every other person who you meet is addicted to prescription drugs – and half of them will die from it. As a population, we’re not WheelchairJunkies; we are just junkies.

Interestingly, there’s a scientific basis why those of us with disabilities are so prone to addiction. Modern research into addiction causation shows a direct link to emotional trauma – where we abuse substances to both mask and maintain trauma. On the one hand, substance abuse can be an escape, but it often also ties in to a deep-level psychology where we’re the only creature known that actually strives to “re-inflict” trauma unto ourselves, “maintaining” it throughout our lives (a simple – but tragic – example is that 76% of women abused by a spouse were abused as children, unwittingly “maintaining” the trauma throughout their lives by being drawn toward unhealthy relationships). Disability often has any number of emotional impacts attached, resulting in trauma, so it’s the prevalence of trauma surrounding disability that dramatically escalates the risk of substance abuse.

And, make no mistake, our culture and the medical community supports the abuse of drugs to address disability. If a crack-head walks into a doctor’s office, they call the police. But, roll in to that same doctor’s office in a wheelchair, with a spinal cord injury, multiple sclerosis, or cerebral palsy, and the prescription pad comes out. What would you like? Klonopin, Baclofen, Oxycontin, Soma? No problem. What – you want to up your dosage? No problem. And, no one questions you – not the doctor, not the pharmacist, not your family. Why? Because no one wants to doubt your physical struggles, and everyone wants you pain-free. But, they don’t know that you’re blazed out of your mind, that the drugs have bonded with your dopamine and endorphin levels, where the prefrontal cortex of your brain just drives you toward more drugs, more drugs, more drugs – and you are metabolically a full-blown addict.

But, what’s even more awesome is that you don’t think you’re an addict. From rationalizing in your own mind that your disability necessitates medication, to the legitimization of it all from the medical community, you’re right on course – there’s no problem. What’s more, we know that addicts lose the capacity to truly know that they’re addicts – the drugs literally crank up the denial chemistry in the brain. At best, addicts can dish-out victim mentality, “I’m fucked up.” And, in ways, they’re right. For decades, we’ve heard that the first step to recovery is admitting that there’s a problem. However, we know now, through modern addiction studies, that while addicts may occasionally voice that they have a problem, that they’re fucked up, they truly don’t have the capacity to recognize that they have a literal disease that’s killing them (and, it is a disease in that it alters your biology beyond your control) – it’s usually only after intervention, detox, and months of focused recovery that one truly realizes one’s addiction. So often a lack of willpower is socially equated with addiction (and it can be argued still that a lack of handling stresses in life, along with a genetic predisposition toward addiction can begin the process, itself). However, recent studies show that once addicted, the most instinctive drives of the brain are effected, and conscious volitional control is lost – that’s a disease.

And, so if you’re reading this, taking prescribed pills right on schedule, with them in neat rows, lined up on the kitchen counter, don’t worry, you’re not an addict. There’s no problem. The drugs are there just to help you function normally, as directed.

And, if you’re the loved one of someone whose medication has him or her agitated, nodding off, eyes glazed over, don’t worry, he or she is totally fine – just keep telling yourself that, due to disability, he or she needs the prescribed medication. It’s OK – it’s all normal, there’s no problem.

Yet, there’s nothing normal about any of it, and it’s a life-threatening health issue that kills – and, to top it off, there’s virtually no treatment. Tragically, even if, as an addict, you expressed your problem to most addiction specialists (which you would never really do because, again, addicts lie to everyone, especially themselves), even the specialists wouldn’t believe you. You’re a person with a disability taking prescribed drugs – there’s no problem. So, even if you or your loved ones strive to get you help with addiction, the medical community isn’t trained to offer it to you as one with a disability. In fact, even the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services publicly states, “Substance abuse prevention, intervention and treatment services are not physically, attitudinally, cognitively, or financially accessible, to persons with disabilities for many reasons.”

And, so the question becomes, as those with disabilities, when we start off with a lack of accountability by turning to medication, then use the medical system to become drug addicts, and the medical community legitimizes it, with no ability to treat it once it becomes a disease, what happens? Well… we die.

However, there are a few ancillary solutions. Firstly, toward those with disabilities, as a community – and especially within the medical community – we must all be aware of this health crisis, where the acceptance of use and prescription process must be dramatically curbed. We have to acknowledge the problem and stop it before the pen hits the prescription pad.

Secondly, if you’re the loved one of an addict with a disability, and your loved one’s addiction has become your family’s problem – and it always does – get help for yourself and your family, where you’re not a codependent to the addict. Addicts have a clinical narcissism where they lose the capacity to care about anyone but themselves and their addiction, and they will gladly emotionally, mentally, and financially destroy their families without an inkling of conscience. Addicts slowly consume relationships, and you have to break-free of that cycle, no matter how much you love that person (or, more aptly, how much you loved that person before he or she became an addict, as again, the brain changes so much under addiction that the original person no longer exists).

Therefore, as individuals and a community, let us stop addiction before it starts. If we have a loved one who’s an addict, let us have the strength to prioritize ourselves and our families to distance ourselves from the addict. And, if you’re already an addict – which you’re truly incapable of knowing – there’s statistically no U-turn for you: You’re simply buying time among the living dead.

Listening, Loving – Present

By Mark E. Smith

It can be argued that there’s no song more emblematic of the late 1960’s counter culture of flower-power, psychedelic drugs, and free love than “Purple Haze” by Jimi Hendrix.

However, contrary to the logical presumption that Purple Haze is about drug use, the late Hendrix swore it is a love song, a lament about a girl. And, he pointed to the lyrics, Whatever it is, that girl put a spell on me.

Of course, the lyrics that most of us know from Purple Haze are, Excuse me while I kiss the sky. But, what really puts it all into context is the preceding verse, Actin’ funny, but I don’t know why? And, so you have an amazing, iconic song about a love-sick guy, not knowing how to get himself out of a bad place, questioning, Is it tomorrow or just the end of time?

Fast forward 40-something years, and in today’s culture, the love-sick soul in Hendrix’ masterpiece becomes seen in a vastly different context, pathologized – that is, someone who needs help, some sort of intervention. Hendrix’ lyrics could easily be, Excuse me while I fix this guy.

See, we now live in a culture where it’s not OK to sometimes not be OK – and sometimes we’re just not OK, and it’s OK! Truly, we live in a society where everyone wants to fix everyone – if you have a problem, there’s no shortage of friends, family, TV personalities, doctors, and prescription drugs ready to fix you. And, yes, sometimes we need help – clinical mental health issues and various dependencies require medical intervention.

Yet, a lot of times, when we’re seemingly not OK, it’s OK. In my roles, I hear from a lot of families who want to help their loved ones who have disabilities. And, what I’ve come to understand is that a lot of times, the best help is no help – simply listen, love, and be “present” – and let the person work through his or her emotions and problems in his or her own time and way. For the most part (again, with the exception of clinical issues), we have an innate way of finding our way through the proverbial dark spots in life, back to the sunlight, where all we really need is time, space, and someone to just listen and be present with us during trying times, without judging or preaching. As Wayne Dyer puts it, “Love is the ability and willingness to allow those that you care for to be what they choose for themselves without any insistence that they satisfy you.”

As a full-time single dad raising a teen daughter, I’ve been practicing what I’ve coined the “listen-love-present approach” – and it’s challenging! I mean, I have all kinds of advice just waiting to be blurted out, but that’s not what my daughter – or most people! – need or want. Rather, what my daughter needs and wants is for me to listen, love, and be present – not dish-out advice. Sure, there are places and times for advice – including with my daughter – but, there are far more moments where the listen-love-present approach is the most sincerest form of support that we can give others.

I have an oversized, over-stuffed chair with pillows in my master bedroom. And, some evenings, my daughter will come in when I’m in bed watching TV, and she’ll curl up in that chair, and start talking. Recently, in that comfy chair, she shared with me that she’d just been dumped by her date for the Semi-Formal school dance – that is, it wasn’t just her first real school dance and “date,” but her first time being dumped. As a father, I could have given her tons of immediate advice and opinions: You’re beautiful, and he’s an idiot. I’m sure you’ll have new date in no time. We all get dumped. You won’t remember his name in 10 years. Look at how many times I’ve been dumped, and I’m fine. Everyone gets dumped – it’s just part of life. But, I didn’t tell her any of it because it would have no effect. If I did, it would really be a dismissal, wouldn’t it? Yeah, yeah – you’re 15. Trust me, you’ll get over it! That’s no way to treat anyone in real pain, who, as Hendrix noted, is questioning in a way, Is it tomorrow or just the end of time?

Rather, I asked her some listen-love-present questions: How’s this situation make you feel? …What do you think about the guy who bailed on you? …What are you going to do about the dance? And, she found the answers within herself, not just that evening, but in the coming days. (And, she gave me permission to share this story with you, as I would never betray her confidence.)

The fact is, as her father, my role is to facilitate her growth, not dictate it – and, as a father, there’s nothing more rewarding than seeing your child overcome life’s hurdles in healthy ways on his or her own, where he or she needs love, not fixing. However, this really applies to all our relationships, where often the best way to support someone isn’t with advice, but just loving, listening, and being present.

See, the truest lessons are often learned not through advice or preaching from others, but by thinking and feeling on our own – with someone who’s listening, loving, and present along the way, when we’re fortunate. As for my daughter, of course another boy asked her to the dance. And, as one might presume from Purple Haze, being broken hearted – for any number of reasons in life! – certainly shouldn’t be equated with being broken. We all need someone to listen to us from time to time, but rarely do we need fixing.

The Wild Thing

Author’s Note: If your mind leads you down the path of twisting tasteful innuendos and a dose of cleaver sophomoric humor – all with a relevant message! – into your own biased views of “inappropriateness,” skip this piece, as it requires maturity (and a semblance of empathetic humor), to read.

By Mark E. Smith

In my 41 years, I don’t recall anyone asking me that question. I mean, people have asked me a lot of blunt questions, but I don’t recall anyone asking me that. Maybe someone did along the way, and I’ve long forgot. However, I think I’d recall such a blunt question, especially about that.

I’ve had friends with disabilities tell me that they’ve been asked that question, but in my experience, my relationships always unfolded naturally, where when a woman truly got to know me, any questions or apprehension that she may have had toward that was put to rest, unsaid. And, I suppose that, logically, the fact that I have a teenage, biological daughter these days says it all.

But, this time seemed a first. Right in the middle of a bustling restaurant, over appetizers, stone sober, she just blurted it out while dipping cocktail shrimp in sauce: “So, can you have…?”

Without missing a beat, I leaned over mischievously, and said, “You mean right now, here?”

Surely, anyone who knows me knows that in acknowledging the seriousness of her question, I’m going to playfully address it with some humor and charm – and a gigantic dash of complete inappropriateness. At 19, I would have been embarrassed or offended by the question – my insecurities at that age would have certainly warranted a serious reaction. However, at 41, after – let me do the math – 23 years of doing that, the question was among the most hilarious that I could be asked. As a gentlemen, I would never dismiss or mock the woman for asking it – ask away! – but if one asks me such a question, you can bet that I will push the subject as far as my wit allows, admittedly for the sophomoric entertainment value.

“Maybe we should at least sneak into the bathroom,” I had to add, purposely going way too far, 0 to 100 in an instant, just to see her reaction.

“No, really, can you have…?” she asked again, leaning into me with an intent look that was …well …more creepy than flirtatious.

“Why do you want to know?” I asked, taking a sip of Coke. ”Are you testing the waters?”

“It’s just something I’ve been thinking about,” she said, dipping a shrimp in sauce, and feeding it to me. “These are good, aren’t they?”

Damn, she had me – I hate ambiguity! Was she thinking about that out of creepy curiosity, or was she thinking about that with me, specifically? Was she a creepy chick, or was she just into me? Wait! There was a third possibility: Was she a creepy chick who was into me? I’ve had enough creepy chicks into me – I want possibility number two, a chick who’s just into me!

“Do you remember Tone Loc, the rapper from back in the day?” I asked.

“Of course,” she replied, taking a sip of her water.

“Well, Baby, if you’ll be my queen, I’ll show you what I mean, doing the wild thing,” I said, destroying the lyrics to the song as I tried to rap them.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, laughing.

“OK, let’s seriously think about this,” I said. “I have a 15-year-old daughter. I think that pretty much answers the question.”

“Really I wasn’t sure about it all,” she said, wiping her hands on her napkin.

“Heck, I can even show you how it works some time – it’s really not complicated,” I said, and she laughed, hitting me with her napkin. “If you’ve ever done it, you know it’s not rocket science. I saw on MTV that even teenage drop-outs do it – and have babies. Those silly teen moms….”

“I was just wondering, Jerk,” she said with a smile, going back to her shrimp.

We finished dinner, went to a dance club, and danced till 2:00am, and had a fantastic time. And, what I later learned was that her blunt question was based in very practical experience. She’d known of a married couple, where the husband was paralyzed to an extent that he could no longer naturally father children, so my friend attributed that to ruling out all possibilities. And, in a way, I think that her asking me the question so directly spoke a lot to her character, where even at such an early stage of our friendship, her honesty – and trust in me not to get offended – were really positive traits. (…Or, she’s just creepy, and my poor judgment in women continues!)

We went back to my house, and knowing that my daughter was at my sister’s house, I had every guy’s dilemma as we pulled into my garage: Should I call it a night, or use the sleaziest line ever, So, do you want to come in?

Nope, not my gig – I, of course, opted to call it a night. One, despite poor humor, I’m always going to honor my integrity after such a night, and keep all above board. And, secondly, why ruin the mystery for her? After all, as far as I know, she’s probably still trying to figure out exactly how that works – the wild thing.