Resilience demands that you don’t fall into the pass-fail trap

If you play a word association game about chronic illness with unafflicted people, I’m not sure what the response would be.

If you play it with the afflicted, the answers will be different and much more personal. If I’m not in the midst of a crash, my word might be resilient.

These are people who often don’t give up. They aren’t driven by the need to be brave and courageous, but to live their lives. I need to keep the bills paid and try to maintain a level of fitness. That’s what gets me out of bed when things hurt and I feel like ass.

Regardless of why we go on, it’s what we do. We have to.

The skills you learn when you just go on are transferable. To live with a chronic condition, you need to attack things differently than others. It could be as simple as using a delivery service for your groceries. It could be adjusting your daily schedule to hit your high points. It could be listening to your body and strategically resting. And it could be jury-rigging a way to get around your house better.

Whatever those skills are, they don’t just apply to living with a disadvantage. If you’re good at problem-solving, you’re good at problem solving.

In a recent podcast, Ryan Holiday said this about living through struggle and facing another struggle: “You know you have the ingredients to do it if it is, in fact, possible to do.” In other words, your track record proves your toolset.

The path of pain is no fun, but it’s familiar and it’s a path where you’ve excelled before. You know how to beat the odds.

In my dark spaces this month, I’ve forgotten that. I’ve tried to march forward as the sand gives way under my fight and demanded to march forward anyway. That’s a bad way.

A better way is to rely on my resilience and my problem-solving skills to figure out (1) how to do it (2) if it can possibly be done.

If you have bad eyes and you wear glasses or contacts, that’s not a loss. It’s an adjustment. If you’re overwhelmed because your to-do list is overwhelming and you feel your ability giving way, instead of pressing forward, it’s time to stop, think (and maybe rest) and try to find a different way.

Determine if it’s important to do that thing. Determine if you can do it later. Determine if you can do it a different way.

Then however it plays out, take stock of what you’ve done without falling into the pass-fail trap, where anything less than what you would do under optimal circumstances is a failure.

Resilient people recognize ugly wins as wins. They learn, improve, and go forward. But they also accept their limitations. If you don’t accept the problem, how can you possibly work to solve it?

Be tolerant of others, but know when to be strict with yourself

The book that influenced me more than any other was The Obstacle is the Way, by Ryan Holiday. It was mentioned on a podcast I listened to featuring General James Mattis, the former Secretary of State. It’s about stoic philosophy, which would seem dusty and boring, but actually has some great tips for being resilient and living your best life.

Given my struggles with Fibro this year, it’s been a great and useful book. If crap’s going to happen and you can’t do much about it, you should do everything possible to make the best of it. It’s been a struggle and I’ve missed the mark quite a few times, but it’s given me direction.

One of the many stoic axioms is Marcus Aurelius’s guidance to be tolerant with others and strict with yourself. In general, it’s a great approach. It helps you work hard to improve yourself, while you improve others’ lives with Jesus’ command to love one another.

For me, the physics of chronic illness aren’t consistent. When you’re chronic but functional, you have to push through. It’s what keeps me running and writing and accomplishing things. It adds the color to life that helps with my mental health–which helps with my physical health.

In my circumstance, what worked this morning won’t necessarily work this afternoon. Last weekend, I ran six miles in the morning. By evening, my body was a swirl of pain. I felt fragile and wanted nothing more than to retreat.

And when the pushing reaches an inflection point, it turns to systemic failure.

In a life of chronic illness, you need to pick your spots, but you should treat yourself with the same tolerance you use on others. No one would expect a toddler to play tennis. No one would expect him or her to type flawlessly. Yet, as someone with fibro, I expect myself to perform at my specified level regardless of circumstance.

That’s not smart.

New Years are a visible blank sheet–a chance to take stock, adjust, and move forward. My strictness with myself has served me well. There are areas in my life where it should be extended–where I’m complacent and settle for less than I should. But there are also areas where I need to discipline myself to back off.

The same is probably true for you, as well.

So be tolerant of others. Be strict with yourself. But like the serenity prayer, the key is to know when it’s time to put the pedal to the floor even if it’s hard, and when to pump the brakes.

That’s one of my goals for 2024.

No role is so well suited to Christianity as this one

The second half of this year has been an uphill march against the Fibro. As often as not, I’ve been in pain–sometimes severe. I’ve been tired, felt ill, been brain-locked. Most days I’ve gotten to the end of the day and felt awful. My writing has suffered and I’m in horrible shape, relatively speaking.

While I understand other people have heavier burdens (and they are bad ass for going forward), it’s been bad for me. I’ve tried hemp, “herbal remedies” available in some states, acupuncture, deep tissue massage, cupping, and some other things I never thought I’d dabble in. I stayed up later in tenth grade than I do now.

Once, at my massage therapist, I was naked on the table with a blanket over me with acupuncture needles in the bottom of my feet. “This,” I thought at the time, “will be when the fire alarm goes off.” I also have a rheumatologist. That’s right–I’m old.

I’ve fought through it all. Over the past year, I’m still averaging about 9,000 steps a day. My weight has stayed more or less constant. I’ve written. I’ve read. I’ve been on a plane every month since July. I’ve excelled at work. And though I didn’t get all my baking done this year, I got a lot.

Through it all, if i’m honest, my attitude has deteriorated. Most of the time, I’ve felt overmatched. Life has to go on regardless of how I feel and it’s my role to piece together whatever’s necessary to meet expectations until I can’t any more.

Though it’s a good way to attack life, Marcus Aurelius’s charge to be tolerant with others and strict with yourself is hard when you’re struggling through a flare.

While it can darken your shadowy impulses, chronic pain or illness humbles you. It helps you to see parts of life you never noticed.

I’m a host in our digital church services. In the Christmas eve services I helped with, I made a point of acknowledging and praying for people struggling dbecause of loss of loved ones, sickness, isolation, or whatever else there was. I wouldn’t have thought of this if not for my experiences over the last couple years, and specifically over the last few months.

Fibro can humble you. Though it sucks as a way of life, a little humility isn’t a bad thing.

As I type this, I can cause a pain level of 3 or 4 by lightly pressing my thumb against my ribs. The end of my right big toe feels like it’s about to explode. My right upper arms feels a couple days out from being hit with a pipe. My knees ache and my fingers feel like they got slammed in the car door.

God either ordained this or allowed it. Either way, it’s up to me to take my circumstance and work to make more out of them. It’s up to me to find meaning in the pain. And to use it to benefit others.

I don’t epitomize the beatitudes, but this experience has helped me to align myself a little closer to their ideal.

There’s a movement among American Christians that we need to assert power, to be “joyful warriors,” taking no prisoners in the furtherance of God’s kingdom. You see it in politics and in an uncompromising approach to whatever happens to anger God’s surrogates right now.

The Christian attitude should be just the opposite. Christianity’s not a movement applied with force from above. It’s a lifestyle best applied where opportunities exist, leading with open arms and soft voices, not bully pulpits and waving fists.

I’m far from perfect at it. You won’t have to look hard through my past to find people who consider me to be an asshole. But I’m working hard not to be that guy anymore and this is a step in that direction.

When Marcus Aurelius assumed power in Rome, he said there’s no role so well suited to a philosopher as his. If that’s so, there’s no role so well suited to Christianity as that of someone struggling to keep everything together, and noticing and doing what he can to help others in the same straits.

Another Christmas wish

When I went to get coffee at the local Stewart’s this morning, the guy behind the register was dressed in a Santa suit. Two little kids were in awe of him as he rang people out and wished them well.

Christmas is best spent with little kids–the ones who still have that sense of awe and wonder.

Christmas is also a time of heartbreak for some–a time where they smile and get through because that’s what you have to do. It’s what you do when your marriage and life has fallen apart since the last holiday. Or when there’s a first-time empty spot where a loved one has always been. Or when the money isn’t there to do what you want, especially for your kids. Or when you can’t be where you want to be because of work or other circumstances.

As you’re enjoying the holidays this week, take a minute to say a prayer or send good thoughts to people whose Christmas isn’t as good as they’d like it to be. If you know someone like that, take a second to let them know you’re thinking of them.

Almost 700 books pulled from Orange Co., Florida bookshelves. Because freedom.

Ron Desantis and his allies in Moms for Liberty (insert threesome reference here) can rightly say they didn’t ban the 673 books pulled from Orange County Florida educators’ bookshelves this year.

The catalyst for the books being pulled are two Florida that require media specialists to review books in libraries or classrooms and remove any that have sexually lewd material or pornography. Because anyone running afoul of the law could lose their teaching license and face criminal penalties, the state–which enforces these laws–is advising educators to err on the side of removing books.

The books can be reviewed and a later date and put back in circulation, sometime. Until the next complaint. Though I’ve read only a fraction of the pulled books, I’m familiar with many of the authors. Banned books include the Raymond Chandler series, the Philip K. Dick story that was the basis for Bladerunner, Ralph Ellison’s The Invisible Man, and multiple novels by John Grisham, Stephen King, George RR Martin, and, of course, Jodi Piccoult.

Jodi Piccoult. The literary equivalent of Ron Jeremy. Except for the porn. And the sexual assault.

Several of the books, including Slaughterhouse Five, Strange New World, East of Eden, and On the Road were on student book lists when I was a teenager.

Desantis’s defenders (at least those not currently involved in throuples) will say they didn’t ban the books. They can’t control what books get pulled by educators enforcing their policies.They’ll rightfully point to books by Anonymous and the Fifty Shades series as examples of books schools shouldn’t provide.

But Born on the Fourth of July? The Big Sleep? Coma? Sophie’s Choice?

Any policy vague enough to cause those books to be pulled is either designed that way or needs adjustment–something Desantis doesn’t seem to care for.

He says this is all designed to protect parents’ rights. What about parents who don’t mind their kid reading Nineteen Minutes? Whose kid might read Chandler or James Lee Burke and develop a life-long love of a genre? What about their rights?

Why should they have to buy books from Amazon when the overwhelming majority of parents would find them unobjectionable and they were otherwise available to the kids on demand.

If you don’t want your child exposed to Philip Marlowe, that’s your decision. It’s a silly decision, but I support your right to make it. But you shouldn’t get to decide what my kid’s exposed to.

This isn’t about porn. If it were, The Invisible Man wouldn’t be on the list. A book where two daughters get their father drunk and date rape him so they can have babies might be. (That would be the book of Genesis, by the way.)

It’s about setting up a system in which a politically motivated minority gets to decide what the rest of us can consume.

It’s about power and ultimately about thought control. The high irony is that 1984 isn’t on the list.

Not yet, anyway.

Pope Francis’ decision to bless same-sex couples angers conservatives. I’m not sure it’s wrong.

For years, my position on gay marriage has been that in a free society, you don’t tell deny consenting adults the right to enter into a contract. In other words, gays and lesbians should have the same right to be legally married as straight people. In a free society, we don’t shape law solely around the book of Leviticus.

It was a comfortable position that allowed me to split the difference. In front of the law, the right is absolute. But the law cannot tell churches what to do. If a church decided not to bless gay marriage, that’s their right.

It allowed me to bypass the thorny question of what I’d do if my church started blessing or even performing same-sex unions.

Though I’m not currently a practicing Catholic, Pope Francis‘ decision earlier this week took away my comfortable spot.

To be clear, the Pope isn’t allowing gay marriage—the policy is clear on that. In no way, can the blessing be associated with anything like a church marriage ceremony. His policy change had all the expected results. Liberals, both religious and political, were split. Some praised the move, while others said the change amounted to watered-down homophobia.

Conservatives consider it apostasy. Bishops in Zambia, Malawi, and Kazakhstan overrode that decision, forbidding the blessings. Bishops in Ukraine warned the action could signal support for gay marriage. The US Conference of Catholic Bishops issued what the Wall Street Journal called a terse response, stressing that there’s no change in the church’s position on gay marriage. The presumed antagonism to the policy change remained unsaid.

Unlike American law, churches are, and should be, free to set policy solely on what the Bible says. Though popular sentiment may push back against it, churches are not bound by the will of the people or the US Constitution’s requirement for equal protection under the law.

If one of my children were to enter into a gay or lesbian marriage, I wouldn’t cut them off. I wouldn’t condemn them. I would continue to love them–and their partner. It’s an open question whether God has an issue with it (I don’t think He would), but I’m to do my best to extend the love God has for me.

I find it hard to believe that a loving God would tell someone, “well, you did everything right except that you had the hots for and fell in love with someone of the same sex. They don’t have air conditioners in hell.”

Jesus’ ministry was marked by reaching out to people society viewed as outsiders. Loose women and prostitutes, tax collectors, criminals, Samaritans, and Gentiles. If they’d been a thing back then, he’d have even reached out to people who think pineapple belongs on pizza. He’d invite them to his love. I know this because he’s working on melting my stony black heart.

I know what Leviticus says. I also know those requirements came at a time when, according to the Bible, the Israelites were wondering around the desert. Anything that prevented them from keeping the population up–like having sex with someone you can’t procreate with–would hurt their chances of survival. In most cases, how a society views go says as much about that society as it says about God.

In a world where people are being bombed and starved, where the poor and elderly are often fleeced and hate and anger are plentiful commodities, I’m not sure God would consider a heartfelt same-sex union among the bigger problems.

There are many things I disagree with Pope Francis on. This is not one of them.

Why the Colorado court ruling excluding Trump shouldn’t stand

It’s been nearly three years since the Wednesday afternoon when the entire country–and much of the world–watched as a mob of protesters stormed the Capitol to try to prevent the results of the 2020 election from being applied. Though former President Donald Trump and his allies continue to say the election was stolen, Trump’s attempts to litigate himself back into office were almost completely unsuccessful. His own Attorney General and cybersecurity expert both said no material election fraud occurred.

What happened that day wasn’t tourism, as the revisionists would like you to believed. It wasn’t a plot hatched and executed by Ray Epps. The people who violated the Capitol–many of whom gave tearful apologies at their trials–weren’t Antifa, Black Lives Matter, or the FBI. Nor are they political prisoners, as many in the MAGA movement would demand you acknowledge.

The stakes that day were clear enough that some moron from Tampa posted this that morning on Facebook.

If I knew what was possible, Donald Trump should’ve had an idea. Still, it’s an open question whether he “engaged in insurrection.” According to the 14th Amendment, such an action would disqualify him from becoming President again–at least based on a ruling by the Colorado Supreme Court.

The Atlantic has posted an article indicating that any originalist on the Supreme Court can either follow their principles and uphold the Colorado court or show themselves to be hypocrites. It’s simple–if only it were that cut and dry.

The language in the 14th Amendment doesn’t indicate what constitutes engaging in an insurrection. Though Donald Trump clearly put the ingredients together for the insurrection, he knows where the line is.

He never actually said to invade the Capitol. He said to go to the Capitol and fight like hell. Trump’s a lot of things, but he’s not stupid. He knows how to get others to leave their fingerprints at his crime scene.

He hasn’t been found guilty of insurrection by any criminal court. He’s be correct in making the case that absent a criminal conviction, he can’t be treated as if he were guilty.

Though states run elections in their jurisdiction, there’s also a question about whether a state court has the authority to interpret how the Constitution impacts a federal election.

Whatever happens, the US Supreme Court shouldn’t base their decision on what might happen afterward. It’s bad jurisprudence to decide a case out of fear, even if upholding the decision might make January 6 look like kindergarten nap time in comparison.

The bigger problem is the use of the 14th Amendment to disqualify almost anyone. There’s already talk among conservative opinion-makers of finding friendly courts to Joe Biden, Kamala Harris, and a plethora of other Democrats under the presumption that his treatment of the border amounts to an insurrection.

If this ruling is upheld, you can look for politicians of both stripes to expand the definition of an insurrection to include almost anything. Ask Jamaal Bowman, the Congressman charged with a misdemeanor for pulling a fire alarm in the Cannon House Office building. In the noise that followed his pulling the alarm, the word insurrection surfaced a lot.

If the Colorado ruling is upheld, the road to any significant election is likely to be littered with lawsuits seeking to apply the 14th Amendment to keep the opposing party off the ballot. That’s hardly the way a functioning democracy acts.

Donald Trump played a role in January 6. The stories about him liking what he saw are believable. But due process has not played out. He hasn’t been found criminally liable for the insurrection.

Given the gravity of this case, every argument against the Colorado decision must be rebutted. Because that hasn’t occurred, the Court should rule in Trump’s favor and let voters decide.

Hopefully, they’ll decide correctly.

Kate Cox shows abortion isn’t always selfish birth control

In a perfect world, I oppose abortion. In a perfect world, teenagers have ready access to sex education and birth control. In a perfect world, pregnancies result in healthy, happy babies that go to loving homes of birth or adoptive parents. In a perfect world, decisions are made based on the facts related to the case, not to make a larger political point.

We don’t live in that world.

Kate Cox doesn’t either. She’s a 31-year-old woman who lives in Dallas. She has two kids and wanted a third, except the pregnancy didn’t go as planned. The baby has Trisomy 18, which makes it certain that the baby will miscarry, be stillborn, or die shortly after birth. What’s more, delivery of that baby would result in danger to Ms. Cox’s life and reduce the odds that she can get pregnant again.

Over the weekend, our message at church was about Mary’s pregnancy with Jesus and Elizabeth’s pregnancy with John the Baptist. I’ve heard that message dozens of times, except this time it was delivered by a woman. The woman who gave the message could talk about it differently because like Mary and Elizabeth, she’d had a baby growing and living inside her.

Kate Cox has two other children she presumably loves. She wants to have another. As someone who’s never had another human being grow inside me, I can only imagine the devastation that comes when you find that child will certainly die, either inside you or after a short, painful existence. At some level, it’s reasonable to expect some soul-searching and guilt over the way things turned out. She was supposed to be able to protect the child to birth and she didn’t. I can’t understand the pain that must cause except to know it’s immense.

The stereotype of the irresponsible, loose woman who wants the baby out so she can party more doesn’t come close to applying here. There’s no room to condescending proclaim she shoulda kept her legs shut (as if sperm just leap in their on their own without a guy putting them there).

None of these narrow stereotypes apply, but Ms. Cox had to ask the state of Texas for permission to handle a horrible situation in the least horrible way. And the state, led by Attorney General Ken Paxton, said no. Under state law, any doctor who terminates her pregnancy is subject to up to 99 years in prison and at least $100,000 in fines. And anyone who helps her obtain that abortion can be sued by anyone.

Ms. Cox has left Texas to terminate the pregnancy, but not before she was accused of eugenics, selfishness, and discrimination by those who oppose her–many of them women. Some called it murder. If her child were to be born with Down’s Syndrome, there might be legitimacy to such claims.

Ms. Cox’s baby isn’t special needs, it’s doomed. She might be doomed with it, if she goes full term. Giving birth isn’t inconvenient for her, it’s dangerous. The fact that the State of Texas wants to force a doomed pregnancy to term says much more about those in charge than it does about her. She’s enduring hell on top of hell and the only thing they care about is asserting power and making a political statement.

The people publicly condemning her for her decision claim to care deeply. Like many people, their compassion is a policy stance, aimed at getting their way by placing every case into a box where they’re the heroes and their opposition are the worst kind of villains.

Odds are high that none of them has ever had to face her situation.

You have to wonder how they’d react if they had.

Enhancing my introversion, one spoon at a time

I’ve discovered that I prefer to be home more than being out and around other people.

Maybe it’s the four years of relative isolation, starting with the Covid then the Fibro. When you don’t feel great, you want to be home, in your house, sleeping in your bed. At home, if I get done with dinner and don’t feel like doing anything except collapsing in bed, there’s no one to pass judgement. I don’t feel anti-social.

Over the past year, when I’m supposed to do something with someone, there’s stress involved. I’m so used to crashing and burning that it’s become the default for me. It’s not to say I don’t like being around other people–every time I do something, I’m glad I did. But staying home and having the option to nap for as long as I want or veg out until I go to bed is the safe thing.

I’m not sure what to do with this realization. I’m reading a book that focuses on taking stock of your situation as it really is, then acting. Acting involves motion, which often involves more than I want to deal with.

It’s popular among chronic illness patients to talk about your bandwidth as if it’s measured by spoons. You only have so many spoons to spend and when they’re gone, they’re gone. And you don’t always know how many spoons are in the silverware drawer.

I spent a bunch of spoons Sunday morning going for a run. A lot of days, that still leaves me enough to get through. Yesterday, I depleted my inventory by late afternoon. I became a little more abrupt than I’d like. I wanted my house and my bed.

That’s not how it works right now. And that’s okay.

It gives me a glimpse into the lives of others and makes me understand sometimes when someone who doesn’t seem that sick just wants to stay home.

I understand that.

And to a degree, I understand the people who’d love to go out, if only they could.

Life is difficult sometimes. And sometimes, it’s enough work just to get to the end of the day.

Resetting a beaten-up mindset

Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus. — 1 Thessalonians 5:18

Last year at this time, I was running 7-8 miles (or the equivalent on an elliptical) pretty much every day. In January, I pulled a hamstring. From there, between nagging injuries and repeated bouts of Fibro, this year’s been an entirely different experience. It’s been a rollercoaster from feast to famine–sometimes within the last day.

Yesterday, I had my best run since January. I ran five miles without walking and ended up running about five and three-quarters of a mile (out of six and a quarter). That run came against a backdrop of pain and exhaustion almost non-stop since late August, when I had the most complete crash of my Fibro existence. By the end of the day, I was achy, tired, and hip deep in that aura of fragility that descends sometimes.

Between the pain, fatigue, and periodic brain fog, my outlook’s been like a satellite orbit that’s been gradually disintegrating. In short, my attitude’s been terrible and all I want to do is make it another week to get some time off and start over in a new year.

Over the weekend, I read Courage Under Fire, by former vice-admiral James Stockdale, who spend years as a Vietnamese prisoner. During his time as a POW, Admiral Stockdale faced circumstances that make mine seem tame in comparison. Reading his words made me review my approach.

Then I started re-reading The Obstacle is the Way, a book recommended by former General and Secretary of Defense James Mattis. The book’s concept can be summarized in one quote by stoic philosopher Epictetus, who wrote “he obstacle in the path becomes the path. Never forget, within every obstacle is an opportunity to improve our condition.”

It made me consider the last year in a new light. First, as much as the day-to-day’s been a grind, a lot of people have it worse. I can’t forget that while my hill might not be as flat as some others’, it could be a hell of a lot steeper. And to be fair, my wife, bosses, and co-workers are pretty accepting of things.

More to the point, every struggle I’ve been through has made me a better person. My resilience has increased along with my confidence and my ability to withstand the less-than-ideal situations that come with life, then make the best of them.

I’ve never gone through difficulty without evolving into a better person. This most recent struggle has helped me come to terms with limitations in myself and learn to show myself some of the same compassion I’d show others in my circumstance.

My approach to life is better because of the struggles I’ve gone through. Now I understand that and appreciate that improvement. The cost has certainly been material, but the benefit’s been immeasurable.

With every struggle, I’m more prepared for the next one. I’m not going through hell, but an expansion of my approach. I can look at my next struggle and say, “I’ve trained for this.” Even if that next struggle is today.

Will I be graceful about this? Not every minute. I pretty much shut down toward the end of yesterday. But today is here and stuff needs to get done.

My pastor is fond of saying we’re supposed to be thankful in all circumstances, but not necessarily for all circumstances. I’m aiming higher. I’m grateful for the struggles I’ve been through. It’s not easy, but it’s worthwhile. And I’ll try to keep that in mind as the next inevitable struggle asserts itself.

I won’t always be as graceful as I’d like. My attitude will require constant tending. But in the grand scheme of things, it’s all worthwhile.

Nothing is worthless unless I decide it is.