Adversity is something we all face at various points in
our life, correct? Maybe you call it one
of the following terms instead:
Misfortune, ill luck, bad luck, trouble, difficulty, hardship,
distress, disaster, suffering, affliction, sorry, misery, tribulation, woe,
pain, trauma or more.
However you describe your challenges in life, it is safe
to make the assumption that our hardships certainly mold our characters and our
suffering changes our life path. For me,
my traipsing through life in thirty-nine years has afforded me a great deal of
misfortune, if you will. My “bad luck”
has crafted my inner-being to nearly define resilience. Would you like to take that journey with me?
In "What Did You Say",
I shared briefly the story behind my hearing loss. At the age of four, my parents realized I was
having a hard time hearing when I asked them to turn around so that I could hear
them. I had adapted and learned how to
lip read so that I could hear the world around me. On my fifth birthday, January 5th,
1974, I received two hearing aids – alas, the gift of hearing but that “gift”
also came with a mound of limitations placed upon me by the medical profession. Fortunately, the true gift was courtesy of my
parents , the support that I could literally do anything I set my heart on –
regardless of restrictions imposed upon me by others. My hearing loss was an affliction, but then
unknown to me, this particular adversity early on would be the concrete
foundation that paved my strength for difficulties in later years.
As a child of a parent with a mental illness, the pain is
two-fold. As a young child you do not
ever understand why your parent, the one who is supposed to love you
unconditionally, goes on rages and beats you.
As you nurse the welts, the bruises and wipe up the blood, you try to
understand and you try to justify the outbursts for your parent. The flip side is you feel immense guilt and
embarrassment once you start to learn that other families do not beat their children
and you are shamed into keeping quiet. In
"Not All Mothers Are Created Alike",
I share more of the details of the abuse I suffered at the hands of my own
mother. Once again, the trauma of wooden
Dr. Scholl sandals crashing down upon my youth limbs, the searing pain of
wooden dowels making forceful contact with my skin, the sickening clang of cast
iron pots against my bones…..has added to the firmness of my core’s strength
for the years that lie ahead.
Not unlike many of us as children, I was bullied as a
child. Namely, because my hearing aids
were so large and so uncommon that name-calling and jokes flowed regularly from
my peers. Once people got to know us,
my mother’s behavior and my subsequent bruises became a focal point for
rudeness and for public inquiry by social service agencies. Time and time again, the strength of my
character was built upon through adversity.
My half-sister abandoned her children, three boys, and my
parents took my nephews in permanently.
Unfortunately, the abuse I had experienced as a young child was now
repeating itself as my mother tried to parent twin twelve year old boys and a
small six year old boy who all came with a myriad of issues from an unsettled
and dysfunctional home pre-abandonment.
As a teenager myself, my role in the family immediately shifted and my
responsibilities included caring for my three nephews as my parents both worked
full time to support the additional family members. Many times I lost out on some typical teenaged
activities because I had to babysit my instant three “brothers” and cook not
only for three mouths but now six. The
misfortune was converted into maturity and again added to my resilience in
life.
Somehow, despite the abuse as a young child and my
tumultuous teen years, I firmly believed that my relationship with my parents
was important and I took them in as my dad’s health declined for the
worse. We had a large enough home with
an in-law space and I envisioned my parents living their golden years whilst
making terrific memories with my children, their grandchildren. My grandparents died when I was young, so I
longed for my children to have that relationship with all of their
grandparents. I was grossly naïve as my
mother’s mental illness was still in full force and the upcoming four years
would be akin to living in hell.
Nursing my parents through dialysis, a kidney transplant,
MRSA, countless cellulitis infections, weekly ambulance visits, regular falls
with injuries, poop everywhere……and more, after balancing a ridiculously
demanding full time job and two little children was about the limit of distress
I could handle.
Little did I know then, but I now understand that all of
these tribulations were little preparatory missions for what would be, by far,
my hardest challenge yet: a fight for
my life in the war against cancer. Had I
not had enough misfortune in my life but I would be the one to be diagnosed
with an aggressive form of breast cancer while pregnant with my third
child? Geesh, what the heck wrong did I
do in my former life to deserve all this adversity? Kill a pope?
In my character enhancement (as I like to refer to it),
the same lesson I keep learning throughout all of this woe is that regardless
of any limitations set on me by said challenges, I can come out on top. I am strong, I am powerful and I do believe.
As part of my desire to destroy the boundaries placed
upon me, I was a stellar runner in high school and I dreamed, like many other
runners do, of someday running the Boston Marathon. The 26.2 mile course from Hopkinton to Boston
is more elite than running the Olympics.
Each year during college and beyond that I went to watch the race, I
felt empowered and promised myself that I would someday be a runner on that
course. Since I was sixteen years old, I
have dreamed of doing the race and have yet to add that to my list of barriers
I have broken through. I thought about
it often, but I let the excuses get in the way:
I work, I have kids, I cannot qualify therefore, I have to raise money
and I cannot do that, I am getting too old…..yadda, yadda, yadda.
April 15, 2013 was a day that most of us in Massachusetts
will never forget. I was in Florida on
April vacation with my family and during the day at the beach, I checked my
phone to see who won the marathon only to get a news alert that there had been
a bomb at the race. Disbelief and shock
set in as I devoured the news and realized the severity of what had happened in
my home state that day. Two bombs,
hundreds injured, fatalities including a young child, oh, my god……….what has
happened. My mother died suddenly two
days later. As much as I had previously
grieved for the loss of my mother during the fall out of her behavior when I
needed to fight for my life and my baby’s life, her death took me by complete
surprise.
We had driven to Florida, so on our very long ride home,
my mind tried to process the ugliness of the week – the authorities had
captured the remaining terrorist who tried to destroy our city and I would be
coming home to put absolute closure to the emotions I had about my mother. My mind swirled and twisted after the endless
miles back up Interstate 95. Perhaps it
was an epiphany, but I decided at that point – somewhere in South Carolina,
that I was going to run the 2014 Boston Marathon. I did not yet know how, but the factors of
why I needed to were overwhelmingly compelling:
1.
My five year chemoversary was June 2013. What better test of my health and the control
over my life that I had not only survived cancer but I was thriving?
2.
My 40th birthday will be January
2014. I am not too old to accomplish my
bucket list!
3.
How dare some deranged terrorists think they can
dismantle and inject fear into MY city, OUR city, Boston? Do they not have a clue about just how STRONG
we Massachusetts folks are?
4.
26.2 miles of reflection – 26.2 miles of
shirking off limitations -26.2 miles because I can.
A few friends have asked me how I am so strong,
especially when I do not use a religious faith in my darkest hours. I have years of experience. My foundation has been built and reinforced
time after time. My life path was paved first
with me losing my hearing.
With that, I am honored and blessed to be a part of Team
Eye & Ear for the 2014 Boston Marathon.
I was chosen to represent what Boston Strong truly means to so many of
us. Massachusetts Eye & Ear was one
of the fine facilities to treat many of the injured last year after the catastrophic
day of events. Somehow, it is very
fitting that I will be representing an institution that provides care for the
very type of afflictions that first set my life path in place – and I have
chosen the fundraising dollars I obtain to be funneled into their ear clinic –
for research and patient care.
I will run because I can, yes. I have dreamed about this day for twenty-four
years.
I will run because I can, yes. My body is healthy, cancer free and an
amazing machine.
I will run for my best bud, Karen as she battles for her life against leukemia. She rode her bike for the PMC Challenge to honor me during my cancer, so now, I will run to honor her and show her just how strong life after cancer can be.
I will run because I can, yes. I will run for every person affected by the
bombings last year because I have two very capable limbs to do so.
I will run because I can, yes. I will run for you, to represent that fear is
not a limitation that we will allow to control us. We will be BOSTON STRONG in 2014.
I will run because I can, yes. Resilience is my middle name. I am better, not bitter.