Everybody's Got Something

I awoke the other day not feeling 100%. I happen to work at a ENT (Ear, Nose and Throat) medical office, and the main reason people come to see the doctor, is they are sick - in some way. It's now February, and I have acquired something. Something that needs antibiotics and steroids. The usual, I'll call it. I'll happily take it, and hope it assist with my ailment. I'll chalk it up to allowing my asthma to get the best of me.
There's some books I read in life that stick in my mind, my heart and my soul. Robin Robert's, Everybody's Got Something is one of those books. It's real, authentic, and written in a fashion that's easy to follow and connect with. I've read it twice, and the first time, I would take pictures of pages in her book, and with the tip of my finger carefully placed on the page to point to the passage that so touched me, click, and it's in my phone. Mostly, the verbiage was that of Robin's momma that I loved the very most.
Over time, I began to realize more and more what this book's Take Away is - and it's obvious - we all have something to deal with in our lives. Seems so simple, but my ego helps me to focus on myself, and not the plight of others. Sure, I care, and I show concern, empathy, and a myriad of emotions to others. We all do that every day. But, as I began to take inventory of my "something's", it brought to mind the "something's" of others around me. Granted, this is a daily dance we all do, it's just that some people's "something" may be a big something. Even though I don't know what the definition is of 'big something' is, Robin's momma reminded me, "Robin, your story is no more important than anybody else's story. When you strut, you stumble." Insert heart emoji here. And then, Ouch.
I was also reminded in her book, that when we don't have the strength to face what's in front of us, others lend us the strength we need that I might not have at the time. Robin acknowledges in her book, "I've often said when fear knocks, let faith answer the door. Sometimes when fear knocks, faith shows itself through a friend who stands by the door, squeezes your hand and answers it with you.”
I've contemplated telling my story, or not telling my story. It's not really all that much, as my story is very mainstream. I have iron deficiency anemia, see a hematologist oncologist every 6 month who checks for a blood cancer (that I have NOT been diagnosed with - but the kind that creeps up on you), skin cancer - check that box (Moh's procedure poster child), and my very best something: asthma. Really, in the grand scheme of things, my "something's are certainly mild". My family? Mental illness, prostate cancer, heart disease, diabetes, and a collection of things that might take the rest of this blog. You get the idea.
As I move along in my life, I quietly see other people's somethings. I watch, I ask, I learn. Sometimes, I may be FloodLighted with too much data from someone who needs to vent or ask for help, or just need an ear. I always end up watching their body language, hear their words, and wonder what their coping skills might be, that help them best. And tell them everything will be okay, maybe hug them, maybe a genuine smile.
For me, this is all a learning kind of life. What do people have? How do they deal with it? Then God decided he would help answer these questions for me. He probably has forever, but I begin noticing about 10 years ago, that something would happen to me, paralleling what's happening to someone close, someone I know. When my sister came forward with an alcohol addition, we usually talked everyday after work, and talked about the mountain she was trying to climb, out of the alcohol addition. Every day, I would come home from work, and cook me a quesadilla. Everyday, I wanted it, and I was going to have it. Period. The End. So that's what it feels like?
This occurrence of God giving me "something's" so I could connect with others and understand the happenings around me better has proven immensely helpful. I have dizzy spells at times, and talk to patient's all day about their vertigo. I can relate. I don't need to strut about it, I can use my experience to understand other's journey, and try make our encounter count.
All of a sudden, I'll have a weird injury happen while running or biking, one that a family member is experiencing. Oh, I get that so much better now. Then my hip will "act up", and now I know how that feels. This happens all the time. It sounds so small when I write it, but there are examples after examples that happen to me, whereby I can find more empathy and understanding. That's what I love about Robin's book. Even though she knows others are going through things too, she's able to tell her story without strutting.
One of my very favorite passages from her book goes like this: "I walked a mile with Pleasure, she chatted all the way. But left me none the wiser, for all she had to say. I walked a mile with Sorrow and ne'er a word she said. But oh, the things I learned from her when sorrow walked with me." Robin stress the need to Be Still everyday. That's when I most connect with myself and God. But it seems that's a hard thing. The chatter in my mind is usually raging, and I can finally say that. At the same time, I now want the TV off when I'm home, I just want quiet - and to relish in it. It's addicting, and the best addition for me I've found so far in life.
I did eventually stop having a quesadilla every day, and broke that habit. My sister found the courage to tell alcohol GoodBye. Now, our something's have turned into other things. The comparison of a quesadilla every day fails in comparison to alcoholism. But for my sister, she would always ask, Are you having your quesadilla? Why, yes I am. And just like that, we were connected to "additions" that are not remotely alike, but yet exactly alike. The need for something that willpower is not present for, was something we both encountered. My sister's somethings have turned into other things, as have mine. There's no comparing our something's in life, as we all have them. Certainly some worse and harder than others. "Regardless of how much money you have, your race, where you live, what religion you follow, you are going through something. Or you already have, or you will."
You can't put a limit on gratitude, and Robin's book reminds me of this. I'm thrilled each time I realize God has given me "something", so that I can connect with others. Maybe it's a TMJ ear ache, or a sore knee. Maybe it's cancer. She's taught me to not wallow in it, and not stay focused on my somethings. Instead, God is always providing me the opportunities to feel what others feel.....just getting there in a different way.
What I also figured out is that the desperation of other people's somethings makes people do unusual and seemingly crazy things. Once the desperation is resolved, we see our person again for who they really are. Life is hard. We can do hard things. Each new day is my gift to try again - and put my ego aside, and try to shine my light. Too bad I can't go get a EGO-ectomy. I'd love to have it removed for a day, and see what it feels like. Instead, I just have to keep trying to sparkle and shine, and I'm not always that sparkly. But if I keep looking for those connections of other people's somethings, and connect those dots, I can decrease my strutting.

Robin's favorite toast? To friends who are family and to family who are friends.

Family, we may not have it all together. But together, we have it all. Amen, my sister.

Cyndi