self-acceptance – PowerchairDiaries

Robbing Banks

By Mark E. Smith

In the San Francisco Bay Area during the mid-1980s, it wasn’t hard to get harassed by the cops if you were a punk teen. Smoking in public, hanging out in front of a convenience store, being on the streets too late, having a house party, and so on would all but guarantee the appearance of cops. I witnessed many such scenes. Among my peers, there was teenage social credibility to it all. If you wanted to be the cool 11th-grader on Monday morning in homeroom, a run in with the cops on the previous Saturday night did the job.

For me, it was hard to be that cool kid Monday mornings. The cops simply didn’t hassle a kid using a wheelchair like me. I was once hanging out with a bunch of smoking, punk friends outside of an ice cream shop, and a cop threatened to haul everyone away, then turned to me and said, “Don’t worry, I don’t take people in wheelchairs to jail.”

I was instantly stung by his remarks. I wanted to be one of the guys, as teens do, but the cop clearly pointed out that I wasn’t, that I was different. In my mind, I was just as much a punk as my punk friends, right down to my black leather jacket. How dare the cop discount my punkness due to my disability. Worse yet, how dare he give me a pass in front of the punk peers I was part of – but suddenly differentiated from because of the cop’s attitude toward my disability.

My immediate emotions aside, I wondered if the cop spoke a universal truth, that people who use wheelchairs aren’t taken to jail? If it was a fact, should I skip college and take up robbing banks?

All of this – the cop’s condescending attitude and the potential of never going to jail – made me more mischievous than ever. One night, as my buddy and I prepared to cruise the avenue in his car, I got the brilliant idea to put a pillowcase over my head in the passenger seat and pretend like I was dead.

The avenue was heavily lit, so everyone saw in everyone’s car. When my buddy stopped at traffic lights, I relaxed my body, pillowcase over my head, and flopped against the dash like a dead body. It seemed like harmless fun and got lots of attention – until the cops pulled us over.

It turned out that I played such a convincing dead body with a pillowcase over my head that multiple people took our license plate number and description, and called the cops.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the cop asked, holding my passenger side door open, the scene illuminated by the cop car’s colored lights.

“Nothing,” I said, the pillowcase still on my head.

He yanked the pillowcase off of me, my grin appearing.

“This isn’t funny,” he said. “You’ve scared a lot of people.”

“It’s a joke,” I replied with no remorse.

He looked in the back seat and saw my manual wheelchair, then looked back at me.

“Let’s get your wheelchair out and get you to Juvenile Hall,” he said. “I bet your parents won’t find that funny.”

Obviously, not arresting people who used wheelchairs wasn’t a universal code among cops. I was in deep trouble, fast, and my disability wasn’t getting me out of it. So, I did what any punk teen would do: I apologized profusely and explained that I never intended to scare anyone, that it was a dumb prank gone wrong, that I’d never do it again.

Fortunately, the cop let me off of the hook – but kept my mom’s pillowcase.

At 16, I learned a lot that night. I learned that what I thought was funny scared a lot of people and that wasn’t right. I learned that there’s nothing cool about getting in trouble with the cops. And, I learned not to rob banks because they do put guys like me, who use wheelchairs, in jail.

The Eye of the Beholder

By Mark E. Smith

The phrase, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” dates back to the 3rd century, with the literal meaning of, “The perception of beauty is subjective.”

While what we may find beautiful is subjective – as in fashion or art, for example – there’s a truth that our beauty is not subjective, but intrinsic to each of us. The beauty of objects certainly is subjective. The beauty that each of us possesses is not.

Unfortunately, we live in a culture that all but encourages us not to see our intrinsic beauty, but to see our so-called flaws. Grab most magazines, turn on most television shows, watch most movies, and we’re bombarded with messages that we’re somehow not good enough. Every year the “sexiest man alive” is named and it’s always an insanely rich, handsome, suave celebrity who’s the farthest person from who I am as one with spastic cerebral palsy. I could look at that idealized image of a “man” and think, No woman should ever love a guy like me. Yet, my wife does, just as many other perfectly imperfect couples are madly in love with each other. How is that possible when we’re supposed to meet cultural ideals to be labeled as beautiful?

I learned of an amazing young lady through a friend. Kennedy, who’s pictured above, was born with lymphatic malformation, a condition that results in a mass in the neck or head due to abnormal formation of the lymphatic vessels. If you’ve ever struggled with issues surrounding your appearance, you can imagine how difficult this condition could be to live with in our culture of idealistic beauty.

However, it’s not difficult for Kennedy. At 20, a college student, she’s an advocate for all to “let their inner beauty shine,” beginning with her own. She’s spreading the rightful message that we’re all beautiful in our unique ways.

Of course, no one looks at Kennedy and sees anything less than beauty. She’s a young lady lighting up the world with her spirit and work. Still, so many of us don’t see the beauty in ourselves. We see so-called flaws and beat ourselves up over them, to the degree of not letting others in. No one should love me like this…. No one could find me attractive like this…. We have the wisdom to see the true beauty in all others, but don’t apply that truth to ourselves – and that must change.

Those around us love us for us – perfectly imperfect – and we, too, must take that to heart, loving ourselves for who we are, as we are. It’s most often the case that the aspects for which we beat ourselves up are, in fact, among the qualities that make us uniquely beautiful and endearing to others.

You are you because you are you, and that creates your unique beauty. Don’t resent any differences you may see in yourself – we’re each different! – but embrace them. I have none of the attributes of the “sexiest man alive, “ but my attributes make me… well… me, and they create a uniqueness that my wife happens to love. I don’t want to be the sexiest man alive; rather, I’m confident in just being me, spastic cerebral palsy and all.

All of us – even the so-called sexiest man and women alive! – can look in the mirror and see only our supposed flaws. However, our perception isn’t reality. The beauty that others see in us is the truth we must see in ourselves. If we are to fully open ourselves up to the love of others, we must also open ourselves up to the love of self, recognizing our own beauty.

We’re each beautiful, not because we meet the fallacy of an idealistic standard, but because we are unique. Let us celebrate each of our uniqueness by being the epitome of beauty – simply ourselves.

Going All In

By Mark E. Smith

It was the sickest I’d ever been. In a matter of days, I went from the masculinity of a mid-forties man to the physical dependence of an infant. A corner was turned, and I was in unknown, uncontrolled territory.

Living with a disability may seem unique, as with my cerebral palsy, but there’s an equilibrium to it. Yes, there are limitations inherent to my disability that require assistance from my wife in personal ways that we’re both comfortable with. But, we all have discreetness and self-consciousness boundaries. In fact, such boundaries seemingly help us define our own sense of masculinity or femininity. Put simply, we say, I’m comfortable with having my spouse see me this way, but can’t imagine ever being comfortable seen in XYZ circumstance. These boundaries vary from person to person, couple to couple, including among my wife and me.

In my time of need and illness, I had no choice but to give up such preconceived boundaries. My wife was there, willing and able to help. I had to accept it based on my illness. I had no choice but to remove my constructed boundaries.

Often, we look at those jumping in to help as the strong ones, and they are. However, as I continue learning, it takes tremendous strength to let others in to help. However, when we do, it takes us to far deeper levels of connection and love. Boundaries can be great, but self-constructed ones of self-consciousness – which all of us have in some forms – can serve as walls that prevent us from getting closer to others and letting others fully know us. For me, sick in bed, totally dependent upon my wife, I realized not just her unyielding love and devotion, but how letting down my own guard allowed me to more fully immerse in our love.

All of this got me thinking, why does it take such extreme circumstances for us to allow ourselves to remove our boundaries, to further trust in love? Why do we cling so tightly to self-consciousness that it prevents us from fully opening ourselves to others?

Of course, the answer is, vulnerability. By nature our biggest fear, admit it or not, is rejection by those we love. Sure, we open ourselves up to love, but most often we have a last-ditch protection mechanism that prevents us from going all in – that is, we hold back in a few areas. However, if we’re being prudent and healthy in our relationship, there’s zero risk, so holding back simply holds us back. It shouldn’t take a situation like a serious illness to forego self-consciousness and fully trust in the deepest forms of love. Here’s all of me for you to love, and I cherish having all of you to love….

Trusting fully in deep love is tricky. It can expose our vulnerabilities, require us to face them, and then let them go, all of which is scary. However, when we do so, we create a pathway to loving and being loved that’s deeper and safer than we’ve ever known. Love is always uncharted territory, and allowing ourselves to follow it to greater and greater depths is life’s most miraculous journey.

Getting Better With Words

By Mark E. Smith

In March of 1862, we first saw the phrase, Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never break me, in the Christian Recorder, presented as an old adage. Of course, to most of us, it is a rhyme from our childhood that we sang as a self-affirmation.

However, is it true? I mean, it sounds logical, and we’d like to think we can rise to such self-confidence, but is the saying scientifically true? Can we, as a species, self-evolve to a point where the words of others don’t impact us?

I’ve faced this subject my entire life and have seen merit to both sides of the paradox: We’re innately social creatures, but don’t want to be affected by social scrutiny. As one with a disability, I’ve experienced negative dialogue from others my whole life. What’s more, as a public figure and in working with the public in my career, I’ve experienced the dark sides of dealing with the public. I’ve faced terrible adjectives slung at me. So, how have I coped with all of it?

I’ve believed in dismissing strangers as just that, strangers. If you don’t know me, how can you have a valid opinion about me? Also, two wrongs don’t make a right, so I try to be kind to others even when their words sting. These approaches have worked fairly well, but not flawlessly – for good reason.

Firstly, you and I, as humans, are hardwired as social creatures. It’s ingrained in us to care what others think as a matter of our survival mode. In modern society, the risk factors aren’t as obvious as they were in previous evolutionary periods; we don’t face getting eaten by wild animals when banished from a tribe as we once did. Yet, susceptibility to wanting social approval remains a natural instinct.

Secondly, scientists now know that our physiological connection to others is so strong that words can break us. Researchers discovered that emotional pain and physical pain both trigger the same area of the brain. They performed brain scans of those suffering a romantic breakup, and then subjected them to physical discomfort, finding identical responses in the brain based on emotional and physical pain. Further, research proves that verbal abuse can alter a child’s brain structure, that those who experienced verbal abuse experience the same degree of later-in-life impacts as those who suffered physical abuse.

When we put it all together, words really can hurt us. We can intellectualize all we wish, but to be human is to feel the literal pain of words.

With advancements in technology, it’s vital that we realize the adverse impact words can have. We, as individuals, are in more contact with others than ever in the history of mankind. You can call, email, text, direct message, or video chat loved ones at any time. You can jump on the Internet or social media platforms and say anything to almost anyone. And, it’s dangerous territory. We all know that words can hurt – because we’ve been hurt by them! – but some are still so quick to say the worst to others through the keyboard of a computer or smartphone. It doesn’t matter if it’s family, a friend, a public figure, or a complete stranger – sock it to ‘em with your words online! I’m all too familiar with this troubling mentality of others and guard myself against as much of it as I can. However, what about teens who are at a point where they’re seeking peer approval, but lack the emotional development to cope with the levels of negativity and rejection that come in deluges on social media? Words can devastate lives.

The point is, given the world we live in, we need to get better with words. We can care less what others think, despite our nature, and live rooted in reality, not worrying about what some try to project upon us. Few truly know us and it’s ridiculous to invest in what strangers say about us, good or bad. Similarly, we need to use our own words more carefully. Just because some people fill social media with garbage doesn’t mean we should add trash to the pile. In this age of such prolific communication, let us use our words as a crane that uplifts, not a sledgehammer that crushes.

After all, Sticks and stones may break my bones, and words can also break me.

Life as a Picasso

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.

Dare Not to Care What Others Think

By Mark E. Smith

If there’s one aspect of life that we all share, it’s knowing what it’s like to be judged, criticized, and disliked. Gandhi and Mother Teresa were among the greatest humanitarians in history – and even they continue being judged, criticized, and disliked by some. It’s odd but true: To be human is to know what it’s like to be disliked.

Most of us felt the pain of being disliked at some point during our school years, and that was extremely difficult because it’s a time when, according to psychology, we most want to fit in, with little coping mechanisms to help us when we’re told in some way that we don’t, as with experiencing bullying. However, being judged, criticized, and disliked doesn’t stop in school; it follows us into adulthood. And, how we address it within our adulthood dictates the quality of our lives. Others are going to judge, criticize, and dislike us – even disliking Gandhi and Mother Teresa! – but we have the choice to let it consume us or to rise to the understanding that it is what it is, and how others view us doesn’t define who we are. Which have you been choosing?

A friend of my wife recently posted on Facebook an experience that took my breath away on this subject:

I do what I do, having my family and also my career, because they make me happy and give me purpose, and have given me confidence in who I am. I was reminded of this earlier today when we were out furniture shopping. I don’t want my sons to live in a world where humans can be so cruel to each other.

We went to a large, chain furniture store, and as a male sales person was helping us, two female saleswomen were sitting at a table and immediately started speaking in another language about how fat I was, and how my dress was cute, but what a shame because I was so fat, but at least I made cute babies. I walked by, hearing this, holding my son’s hand. I told my husband to take my son and go look at the kid’s furniture, and I turned around and went passed the two women again, who continued to speak about me in another language, which I fluently speak. After about five minutes, I had had enough. I turned and faced them:

“I hope you realize I understand every word that came out of your mouths, and you should both be ashamed.”

I got back four stunned eyes looking at me and an, “Oh, I’m sorry, Ma’am.”

“Sorry” was a bit too late for this infuriated, pregnant mama, who has dealt with bullies like these all of her life. I told myself, “Leave now before you loose it!” But, my emotions got the best of me, so I turned around one more time and said to my salesman, “I want you to tell the manager what you hear me say now,” and I turned towards the women again:

“You are sad, so very sad, but you don’t break me. I’m going to continue wearing this dress no matter what you think of me and, yes, I do make beautiful babies like the one who I’m currently carrying and the one whose hand I was holding while you were belittling me, while not realizing I fluently speak and understand multiple languages. What you don’t know about me is that I’m happy. I’m a business owner. And, while you may call me fat, I wake up each day with a clear conscience that I’m raising my children to be better humans than you ever will be.”

I walked with my family out of the store.

My point for posting this is simple: Never let anyone steal your sparkle. Look at the life around you, and look within you to rise above it, and most of all, do not let it break you….

The fact is, despite self-confidence, it’s in our evolution to want validation and approval. We’re tribal creatures at heart, and once upon a time, not getting the approval of others meant banishment or death, so a momentary visceral reaction – and I emphasize, momentary – in such a situation as above is totally normal. We’ve all felt that sting and defense mechanism. So, for starters, we rightfully feel angry or hurt when judged, criticized, or disliked, regardless if it’s a stranger or someone close.

However, we no longer live in an evolutionary time of survival based on what others think. In fact, we live in a time where simply who we are – the character we demonstrate – dictates our success. Therefore, it’s to our advantage to focus not on what anyone thinks of us, but how we can purely be the best at who we are and what we do.

Have you ever noticed that the most comfortable, successful people aren’t concerned with what others think? It’s not that they’re arrogant or oblivious or don’t care. They want to be liked just as we all do. Yet, they innately understand that they don’t need to be liked in order to be of value. They know that they are of value because of who they are and what they do – and they don’t allow that to be up for debate by others.

See, there’s a fundamental difference between wanting to be liked versus needing to be liked. We all want to be liked – who doesn’t? However, when we need to be liked, we alter our behavior to fit what we think others want. In that process, we may squelch the truest, most valuable parts of ourselves and, worst yet, when we don’t get approval, we feel crushed. That’s not only a tough, unhealthy way to live, but it limits us toward being the amazing person we are, as-is. If we’re always trying to please others, we can never let our true selves shine.

Indeed, we can spend our lives worrying about what others think of us, but we know that doesn’t work. So, let’s focus on what does work: being the best we can be, and letting the chips fall where they do. We can’t please everyone and not everyone is going to like us. That’s OK. Let them focus on whatever they wish while we focus on flourishing, as-is.

As one with a severe physical disability, I’ve had others try to dictate my life since the moment of my birth, when I was given only hours to live, then when I did live, I was deemed a “complete vegetable.” As my life has progressed, such projections toward me continue daily. I’ve been judged, criticized, mocked, and dismissed in every possible way, no matter due to cerebral palsy or being a public figure. But, what did cease long ago was my giving anyone’s interpretation of me credence. My path in life has been solely dictated by one person: Me. I’ve heard everyone’s opinions toward me, but my life proves the final say, as does each of ours.

Let us not worry about getting others’ approval, but focus on living to our own potential and desires. And, when we encounter people trying to get us to buy into getting their approval through their judgment, criticism, or dislike of us, let’s move past anger toward empathy. The world is a mirror, and such projections as those women in the furniture store are reflections of themselves. For this reason, I try not to get angry or pity those who seek to judge and criticize others, but have empathy for them. Healthy, happy, successful people do not judge and criticize others; rather, those with internal struggles do. I wouldn’t want to be in their shoes – or furniture store! Again, it’s normal to get angry, offended, or stung in the moment when encountering rudeness. But, empathy goes a long way toward the big picture that they’re struggling in ways we’re not.

The best impression that you can make of yourself in the world comes not from trying to impress others or by being concerned with what they think, but by being the truest you. That’s the type of amazing individual that people ultimately flock to.

In the Weeds of Life

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!

When Life Becomes a Squeezed Balloon

By Mark E. Smith

You’ll likely find yourself at that crossroad. Maybe, as with many of us, you already have. So, what do you do?

It all starts out with the best of intentions. It always does, we always do. But then months, years, decades go by and it all goes in a different direction than we expected. And, that’s the tough part, isn’t it? Changes sneak up on us – then they’re just there. Literal changes, conflicting emotions, sometimes regret. And, we try to make sense of how bright sunshine turned into a heavy rain, and at its worst, a secret pain. How do we resolve it all?

These crossroads of life we find ourselves at – a struggling relationship, a defeating career path, a lost sense of identity – point to what once was an ideal, but is now just agony. How do we correct a yearning when the mere mention scares us? How do we tell ourselves, let alone others, that the train for us has run off of the tracks?

Unflinching honesty with ourselves and those involved, that’s how. We’re ultimately accountable for our happiness, and that means. ..well …being accountable. If some aspect of our lives is tearing at us emotionally, let’s address it, let’s put it out there for resolution. Stuffing it down, like squeezing a balloon, only increases the tension.

No one ever wants to do any of it – admit it, speak of it – because it’s scary. No one wants to jeopardize a relationship or a job or family ties or friends or, or, or…. However, we also don’t want to jeopardize ourselves in aspects of life that are preventing fulfillment and happiness. The conflict doesn’t need to be, as long as we’re willing to simply be ourselves.

See, no matter what life predicament we’re in, there’s always the choice of candor, which opens the gate to free ourselves. However, the deciding factor is, do we have the courage to just let it all out and be – ourselves?

Penciling-In Purpose

By Mark E. Smith

Abraham Maslow was a well-respected psychologist in the mid 20th century. In 1943, he published a paper in Psychological Review, titled, “A Theory of Human Motivation.” Put simply, Maslow explored what made great people… well… great. However, his research didn’t stop there. Over the next decade, he further studied such “exemplary” individuals, as he coined, as Frederick Douglass, Eleanor Roosevelt, and Albert Einstein. He also studied the top 1% of college students. With this data, he then defined an exact hierarchy of five traits that formed a pyramid, where if you had all of the ideal traits – physiological, safety, love, esteem, and self-actualization – you reached the ultimate state of “what a person can be.”

With his “Hierarchy of Needs” pyramid published in 1954, Maslow garnered a lot of attention. It was sort of among the first self-help paths: follow these steps and you, too, can be a fully-evolved, ultra-successful person. Yet, in the 60 years since, Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs has been questioned. The psychology community agrees there is a hierarchy of needs – breathing obviously comes before love – but many doubt Maslow’s sub-category rankings. For example, does sex come before intimacy, or intimacy before sex, and many argue that Maslow’s hierarchy can vary geographically, from culture to culture. Therefore, there are easily-seen holes in Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs.

As one who’s studied Maslow since college over 25 years ago, I’ve increasingly noted a gap in his pyramid, myself. No, I’m not a psychologist, but one doesn’t need to be in order to understand what we need to be healthy, successful and fulfilled: a sense of purpose.

When we look at Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, nowhere does he note purpose. Yet, we all know what it’s like to question our purpose, why we’re here, why we do what we do? And, when we have the answer – that is, when we feel a sense of purpose in our lives – it’s the ultimate fulfillment. I’d assert that purpose is as vital as breathing, itself. In fact, in the hospice community, we often hear of those seemingly refusing to pass until their purpose is resolved. A sense of purpose most often defines our lives in the end.

Of course, a sense of purpose is found in endless ways. As parents, striving to do best by our children, it’s impossible not to feel a sense of purpose. In our careers, if we feel that we’re truly making an impact, it gives us a sense of purpose. In our communities, if we serve others, it gives us a sense of purpose. The list goes on and on; however, there is a unifying key to all senses of purpose: we must sincerely feel we’re serving others in some way. This doesn’t mean that we need to win the Nobel Prize for medicine to feel a sense of purpose. Rather, it simply means we must feel that our actions, big or small, serve others. If you walk into a field and shovel snow, at best you’ll just get a workout. However, if you shovel your elderly neighbor’s walkway, you’re guaranteed to feel a sense of purpose.

Purpose is also wonderfully contagious, and we should never be cautious about spreading it – let purpose loose! I recently got wonderfully pulled into a flurry of purpose. A gentleman in our community saw his purpose in collecting clothing for our local men’s shelter. He emailed a single person, and she emailed another, and by the time I was added to the email chain, I was awestruck by so many finding their purpose in the project. There were collection bins being set up, locations secured, and I was like, “Heck yeah, I’ll write the PR for you!” When a purpose bus comes by, get on!

I don’t know where you’re at in your life, but for all of us, a sense of purpose is vital. Sometimes we struggle to find it, and that’s OK – having patience often leads to finding ultimate fulfillment. Sometimes, we have a sense of purpose, then lose it – it happens, and let us take time to rediscover it. And, other times we feel our purpose every day. Purpose isn’t a scorecard, but a journey.

As for Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, I’m writing purpose into the bottom tier because I believe it’s absolutely a foundation of our needs in life.

Dropping the F-Bomb: Fear

By Mark E. Smith

Have you ever thought about the power that fear has in your life? No, I don’t mean a fear such as that of public speaking or bugs or heights – those are all trivial. I’m speaking of fears that truly impact us: the fear to express ourselves to our partners; the fear of expressing vulnerabilities; the fear to truly just be who we are; and other such fears that emotionally stifle us.

And, it’s painful and debilitating, isn’t it? How many of us have been in a marriage or relationship, and have an inexplicable – or, sometimes, rightful – fear of expressing our needs or desires to our partners? We lay in bed at night, feeling alone, and our hearts just ache, don’t they?

Or, how many of us are living with trauma in our past of some kind, and we fear sharing it with anyone? The result is we feel isolated, needing to keep people at arm’s length, don’t we?

Or, how many of us are dissatisfied with our life paths overall, but we fear telling anyone because we don’t want to rock the boat or upset those around us? It leaves us trapped, doesn’t it?

I’ve faced many challenges in my life, but the absolute most difficult has been conquering such deep emotional fears of expression. And, it remains an ongoing process, where bursts of courage have been allowing me to slowly become more and more open over the years – read that, more honest with myself and those around me. I’ve been on a deliberate and liberating path from emotionally fearful to fearless.

In knowing my struggles and progress in this very personal emotional battle, I recently had the privilege of having a friend confide his fear to me. He was diagnosed two years ago with ALS, which has progressed very rapidly, his now using a power wheelchair and losing physical abilities day-by-day till he passes away. However, he’s been the picture of strength, not only for his wife and children, but for his whole community.

Despite his outward portrayal, he shared with me that he’s been keeping a secret, one he fears telling anyone. As I listened, he paused and said just two words: I’m scared.

Everyone handles adversity in his or her own way. However, any reasonable person who’s slowly dying, leaving behind a spouse and children has every reason to be scared. Yet, out of fear of not being “the strong one” that all labeled him as, he was terrified to express his real emotion, not wanting to let others down, as he put it. Meanwhile, he was struggling on this frightening journey internally alone – fear had him trapped within himself.

I asked, if he was to put his fear aside and share those two words – I’m scared – with his wife, how would she react? His answer was breathtaking: I know she’d reply, “I’m scared, too….”

I haven’t learned if he was able to ever have that conversation with his wife, but I hope he did because I trust it would bring them closer together and allow them to be more open in supporting each other in this process. You can’t have genuinely heartfelt conversations as long as you have fear.

See, that’s what overcoming such fear does – it opens us up. Sometimes we receive a positive response to releasing our deepest fears into the world, while other times a disappointing response. However, the reward of expressing ourselves, despite our fears, is in our actions, not the result. The power, for example, in coming out as gay isn’t in seeking approval; rather, it’s about not living in fear of being oneself. This equally applies to no matter what we’re keeping inside. Expression over fear liberates.

What I’ve learned in my own process – from my relationships to my career – is that life is more authentic when I choose to live openly as myself rather than stifled by fear.