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When Difficult Kids Turn Out Alright

Readers know by now that Erin and I have a big challenge — helping our second child manage ADHD. He’s often difficult. Fair enough. I was a difficult child, too.

Duncan is actually tame compared to the 8-year-old me. He’s never filled up my gas tank with a garden hose. He’s never lit his plastic toys on fire, nearly burning down the house in the process. He’s never stolen money from his Dad’s wallet. He doesn’t bring home revolting report cards. That stuff was all me.

But it’s easy for me to forget those things when I’m the parent. When Duncan leaves a path of destruction around the house, causes scandal in the schoolyard by telling classmates Santa isn’t real or earns a note home from a teacher concerned that he’s not playing well with others, all the worries start about where he’s headed in life.

But I have hope.

Erin found a blog post from Rick Ackerly — a nationally recognized educator and speaker with 45 years of experience working in and for schools, dealing with kids of every harrowing stripe. It’s about how difficult children often grow up to be enormously successful adults.

He writes about an encounter he had on a flight with a CEO and three other high achievers. They talked about how they were bratty, rebellious children, and how the resulting experiences proved more valuable than a college education. He then says:

I put these stories together like this, not to try to convince parents and other educators that being bad is good, nor that one should hope for a difficult child, but to remind us of three critical education principles:

1) Difficulty, conflict, struggle, mistakes, disappointment and failure are where most learning comes from—usually the most important learning.

2) Difficulty is the life we are preparing our children for. We naturally hope that our children will be happy and successful, but that is a mirage–and we know it. The life they will get is a life of challenge, and the best preparation for challenge is challenges. When it’s harder for us, it might be better for them.

3) Raising difficult children might interfere with the rainbow life we were hoping for, but it might be better for the world. Remember Sarah Elizabeth Ippel, the willful child who started a charter school in one of Chicago’s poorest neighborhoods when she was 23 and now at the age of 30 is running the thriving, vibrant Academy for Global Citizenship serving 250 students, 81% of whom are low income.

Someday I want to be on a flight from Chicago to Decatur with the Spanish teacher, the CEO, and your formerly difficult child.

Having a difficult child may be difficult, but it is not the worst thing that could happen to you.

If you haven’t seen his blog yet, you need to do yourself a favor and bookmark it. Every parent should read his work.

One would think I don’t need such reminders. Despite my rough patches, I turned out fine. I have a beautiful family, a successful career in journalism and I’m in the best health I’ve been in for years — despite all my self-destructive behavior.

But as I said, when you’re the parent, you forget and need lots of reminders.

Thanks for that, Mr. Ackerly.

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Recognizing Cries For Help In Your Friends’ Online Posts

For all the drama and groan-inducing crap we see on social media every day, there is a very redeeming quality in the social networking site.

Mood music:

https://youtu.be/l8T-KZMED00

It’s a good early-warning system for identifying friends in need. I’m not revealing anything you don’t know, but a New York Times article my wife sent me really drives the point home.

Written by Times reporter Jan Hoffman, the article points out, among other things:

For adolescents, Facebook and other social media have created an irresistible forum for online sharing and oversharing, so much so that endless mood-of-the-moment updates have inspired a snickering retort on T-shirts and posters: “Face your problems, don’t Facebook them.”

But specialists in adolescent medicine and mental health experts say that dark postings should not be hastily dismissed because they can serve as signs of depression and an early warning system for timely intervention. 

As obvious as this seems, it can be hard to swallow all the same, since we all love to get annoyed with people who over emote online. I’ve certainly written my share of posts making fun of the whole thing (see “I am the Facebook Superstar. Hear me whine“). I don’t regret it, because I think there is some fun to be had in how people carry on.

But reading that article has me wondering about a couple friends from childhood who took their lives: Sean Marley, who I’ve written of a lot, and Zane Mead. Had Facebook existed then, what might have been? Would these old friends have posted  hints into what they were feeling? Would it have made a difference in they did?

Maybe. Maybe not.

I have seen cases where someone posted about being depressed and angry, and other friends filled the space below the post with comments of support and love. I think that would have helped Zane. Sean was a much more complicated person, so it’s harder to imagine.

All of this wondering is a pointless exercise on my part. Facebook wasn’t around in 1988 and 1996, so we’ll never know. All we can and should be doing is honoring their memories.

But for today, Facebook gives us an opportunity to help someone else who is in a mentally dangerous place. I’ve heard a lot from authority figures in my community about how Facebook is bad for kids, kind of like candy and drugs. But they miss the point. Like it or not, this is where our kids are going to be hanging out from now on. This is for them what hanging out in the park or under the bridge was for our generation.

The difference is that if we’re connected to them, we can see what they are saying and doing. That’s not always a good thing if you value your privacy. But if someone is in deep pain, we might be able to notice sooner and maybe make the difference.

That article is a good reminder to keep a close eye on what our friends and family say, and to not take every annoying comment lightly.

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Anti-Authoritarianism As A Mental Illness

A friend sent me an interesting article by psychologist Bruce E. Levine that poses the question: Would we drug up Albert Einstein today for displaying traits outside the norms of an obedient society?

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/zmw9dd9UgRQ

Let’s see what Levine says, then I’ll weigh in…

In my career as a psychologist, I have talked with hundreds of people previously diagnosed by other professionals with oppositional defiant disorder, attention deficit hyperactive disorder, anxiety disorder and other psychiatric illnesses, and I am struck by 1) how many of those diagnosed are essentially anti-authoritarians; and 2) how those professionals who have diagnosed them are not.  

Anti-authoritarians question whether an authority is a legitimate one before taking that authority seriously. Evaluating the legitimacy of authorities includes assessing whether or not authorities actually know what they are talking about, are honest, and care about those people who are respecting their authority. And when anti-authoritarians assess an authority to be illegitimate, they challenge and resist that authority—sometimes aggressively and sometimes passive-aggressively, sometimes wisely and sometimes not.  

Some activists lament how few anti-authoritarians there appear to be in the United States. One reason could be that many natural anti-authoritarians are now psychopathologized and medicated before they achieve political consciousness of society’s most oppressive authorities.  

Gaining acceptance into graduate school or medical school and achieving a PhD or MD and becoming a psychologist or psychiatrist means jumping through many hoops, all of which require much behavioral and attentional compliance with authorities, even those authorities one lacks respect for. The selection and socialization of mental health professionals tends to breed out many anti-authoritarians. Degrees and credentials are primarily badges of compliance. Those with extended schooling have lived for many years in a world where one routinely conforms to the demands of authorities. Thus for many MDs and PhDs, people different from them who reject this attentional and behavioral compliance appear to be from another world—a diagnosable one. 

I have found that most psychologists, psychiatrists and other mental health professionals are not only extraordinarily compliant with authorities but also unaware of the magnitude of their obedience. And it also has become clear to me that the anti-authoritarianism of their patients creates enormous anxiety for these professionals, and their anxiety fuels diagnoses and treatments.  

A 2009 Psychiatric Times article titled “ADHD & ODD: Confronting the Challenges of Disruptive Behavior” reports that “disruptive disorders,” which include attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) and opposition defiant disorder (ODD), are the most common mental health problem of children and teenagers. ADHD is defined by poor attention and distractibility, poor self-control and impulsivity, and hyperactivity. ODD is defined as a “a pattern of negativistic, hostile, and defiant behavior without the more serious violations of the basic rights of others that are seen in conduct disorder”; and ODD symptoms include “often actively defies or refuses to comply with adult requests or rules” and “often argues with adults.” 

Psychologist Russell Barkley, one of mainstream mental health’s leading authorities on ADHD, says that those afflicted with ADHD have deficits in what he calls “rule-governed behavior,” as they are less responsive to rules of established authorities and less sensitive to positive or negative consequences. ODD young people, according to mainstream mental health authorities, also have these so-called deficits in rule-governed behavior, and so it is extremely common for young people to have a “dual diagnosis” of AHDH and ODD. 

Do we really want to diagnose and medicate everyone with “deficits in rule-governed behavior”? 

Albert Einstein, as a youth, would have likely received an ADHD diagnosis, and maybe an ODD one as well. Albert didn’t pay attention to his teachers, failed his college entrance examinations twice, and had difficulty holding jobs. However, Einstein biographer Ronald Clark (Einstein: The Life and Times) asserts that Albert’s problems did not stem from attention deficits but rather from his hatred of authoritarian, Prussian discipline in his schools. Einstein said, “The teachers in the elementary school appeared to me like sergeants and in the Gymnasium the teachers were like lieutenants.” At age 13, Einstein read Kant’s difficult Critique of Pure Reason—because he was interested in it. Clark also tells us Einstein refused to prepare himself for his college admissions as a rebellion against his father’s “unbearable” path of a “practical profession.” After he did enter college, one professor told Einstein, “You have one fault; one can’t tell you anything.” The very characteristics of Einstein that upset authorities so much were exactly the ones that allowed him to excel.

My thoughts:

Einstein probably would have been deemed an ADHD-OCD case and given medication. I’m not convinced that the medication would have obliterated his intellect  or altered his work. But who knows.

I only know that as someone with OCD and ADHD, I take medication that allows me to move along without getting brain locked. It doesn’t make me smarter or dumber. It doesn’t numb me to discomforting situations. I still feel and think everything. The worry and anxiety simply doesn’t incapacitate me like it used to.

Are psychologists, psychiatrists and other mental health professionals too quick to prescribe medication for the sake of making sufferers more obedient and less troublesome in their surroundings? Probably. I think that’s especially problematic with children.

It’s hard to paint every situation with the same brush, though. There are bad therapists and excellent therapists.

Some get just the right treatment. Others get disastrous treatment.

I’m just glad Einstein got to live his life on his terms.

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Things Kids Say, February Vacation Edition

The children and their friends have been giving me an earful this week. Silly little buggers always forget that I take notes.

Mood music:

“I demand my rights as an American!” Duncan, after being told he can’t watch TV before school (in this case, the Friday before vacation)

“Good luck. You’re gonna need it.” Sean, wishing one of Erin’s friends well in an important business venture

“Who do you think I am, Rosa Parks?” Sean’s classmate Nick, after I evicted him from my favorite living room chair

“All kids are stupid. Parents know this, but tell us we’re intelligent to make us forget we’re stupid.” Nick, a few minutes later, after I commented him on his whit and intellect

“Wow. It’s just like watching a 3-D movie.” Duncan, walking around the house wearing the 3-D glasses he got when we went to see “Star Wars: The Phantom Menace”

Duncan in 3-D

What Sean said: “Duncan nearly killed me just now.”

What really happened: Duncan kicked Sean in the ankle — and missed.

What Duncan said: “Sean just tried to break my arm!”

What really happened: Sean poked him in the arm.

“Everybody knows that.” Duncan’s classmate Gabby, after Sean tried to embarrass Duncan by telling her that Duncan wants to marry her when they grow up.

“Get out of the way, Lando! For crying out loud!” Sean, temper flaring, during a particularly difficult Wii game of “Star Wars: The Complete Saga.”

“But it doesn’t feel hot.” Duncan, after putting his hand on a hot pink electric mixer we saw in a store.

“Duncan, I took care of it for you.” Madison, the 3-year-old niece, after punching Uncle Bill in the arm for threatening to come get her. Duncan, Madison’s body guard, usually does the punching.

“Duncan, come take care of this.” Madison, a few hours later, after Uncle Bill playfully threatened to catch her again.

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In Defense Of Wolfgang Van Halen

With a new Van Halen album out, everyone has an opinion. Fine by me, because I have mine. But one writer has taken his displeasure over bassist Wolfgang Van Halen to levels that earn him a smack to the back of the head.

Mood music:

When you question quality of the songwriting and musicianship, it’s all well and good. If you’re a music critic, that’s your job.

But Martin Cizmar, former music critic at Phoenix New Times (he’s now at the Willamette Week in Portland, Oregon) makes personal attacks, specifically against Wolfgang, son of Edward Van Halen. Maybe I shouldn’t care because Cizmar wrote this article in 2010. His argument was that Wolfgang represents everything wrong with Millennials. Sarcasm is Cizmar’s thing, and I get that when reading this. But good sarcasm need not look like this:

First, let me say that, like most right-thinking people who’ve successfully avoided consuming any Chernobly Energy Drink in the vicinity of a hot tub, I don’t really give a shit whether the Van Halen brothers team up with their old singer David Lee Roth or not. I mean, seriously, is anyone expecting this to rock at all? The dudes are too old for Spandex and too proud to reinvent themselves as a bluegrass-y acoustic outfit, a la Robert Plant. So whatevs.

However, as both a taxpaying American citizen and professional critic of popular music, I am outraged by the band’s decision to fire original bassist Michael Anthony so that Eddie’s 19-year-old son, Wolfgang, can take his spot in the lineup.

Okay, look, I don’t know how to put this delicately, so I won’t try: “Wolfie,” the son of Eddie and his ex-wife, actress Valerie Bertinelli, is a fat little pig with bad skin who has no business being on stage with Van Halen. Letting him “play rock star” on huge stages is a travesty of embarrassing proportions. If VH wasn’t already in rock’s hall of fame I’d suggest they be banned, Pete Rose-style.

Can Wolfie play bass? Who cares? I’m sure he’s competent. Because, really, who can’t play bass? Fact: There are several trained apes playing bass in circus bands touring the country. They get way more chicks than Wolfie and they party way harder.

So why is Wolfie taking the place of a guy who was in the band for nearly 40 years? Because his daddy wants to pretend his special little son is talented or gifted or cool or whatever. Like those parents who sued their kids’ school for suspending them after they were busted with booze, Eddie wants to teach his son to have no respect for anyone or anything.

They call this the Age of Entitlement. I’m not sure The Bubonic Plague II would be worse. It seems that when you’re a Baby Boomer with money or power, your goal is to teach your asshat children to show nothing but utter contempt for your fellow man and the rules and standards that govern polite society. It’s a horrible thing to see.

What a jerk.

I don’t know Wolfgang, but neither does this guy. I don’t care what he looks like, but it apparently means a lot to Cizmar, who has written a how-to-lose-weight book called “Chubster.”

I agree when he says a lot of parents today are out of control, spoiling their children and not teaching them responsibility and respect. But that’s always been a problem.  He writes about this like it’s some new crack in America’s superior armor. There are good parents and bad parents. It’s always been that way and always will be.

I haven’t seen much from Wolfgang in terms of quotes in articles. Since he comes across as quiet, how would Cizmar know if Wolfgang lacked respect for his fellow man? And how could he possibly know what Edward Van Halen’s parental motivations are?

My uninformed opinion is that Wolfgang’s addition to the band is what probably saved it — the younger Van Halen inspiring his dad to put the bottle down and get back to work.

Whatever the case may be, I think Cizmar is the real “asshat” of this tale.

http://www.vanhalenstore.com/shop/graphics/00000001/M48B.jpg

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Taking The Different Kids Out With The Trash

Wherein the author laments the inability of educational institutions to embrace the different children.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/4994186umUU

As a problem kid in grades K-12, I’m all too aware of how good kids can get lost in an education system designed for only the so-called normal kids. I used to think this was just a Revere Public Schools thing. Now I see it for the universal scourge that it is.

I’ve written at length about my younger child’s struggles with ADHD and the hard lessons we’ve been learning along the way. But the more parents I talk to, the more I see that it’s not just our school that often fails to get it. I’ve talked to parents who send their kids to public schools, religious schools, special needs schools and it’s always the same complaints:

–The given school is clueless when it comes to dealing with children with learning disorders.

–A lot of parents who send their kids to private schools have their noses to the sky or their heads in their asses. This causes them to look at certain kids in the school as troublemakers instead of what they truly are: Good kids with learning disabilities. It’s not enough to approach the kid’s parents. They have to spread rumors throughout the school. Then that kid is labeled a troublemaker, making it even harder for the child to get a fair shake.

–When a school is made aware of a student’s special needs, the parents have to fight tooth and nail to get their kids what they need to succeed. The parent has to have meetings every other week with art teachers, gym teachers etc. to tell them what the school leadership should have told them — that a student has certain disorders that require a different approach. Since the ancillary teachers don’t get the message, the kid is dismissed as stupid or misbehaved — and they get marked down unfairly.

To be fair, it’s not like this everywhere. I know many teachers who go way above and beyond to teach ALL their students. I know of private schools that specialize in helping the different kids. Of course, you have to take out another mortgage on your house to send them there, but that’s another story in itself.

I also know full well that when we parents bring children into the world, the challenges that come with our bundles of joy are the things we signed up for. God gives us children to nurture and we don’t get to request what that child will be like. Every child is precious, no matter the challenges.

I also know being a teacher can be hell these days. They are forced to teach to test-driven mandates like MCAS and No Child Left Behind, laws that focus more on keeping up with raw test scores than helping ALL kids reach their full potential regardless of their academic aptitude.

School districts really have it backwards because of these stupid mandates. When the economy tanks and the state and federal funding dries up, the first programs to get cut are music and art — the very subjects teachers have the best chance of using to get through to the different kids.

I’m not going to tell you that the education system has gone down the tubes. These problems have always been there. But it never gets better.

Someone has to speak up for the different kids.

And so I have.

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When You’re A Kid, Little Incidents Are A Big Deal

A point my mother made regarding some of what I’ve written about the past: “I remember differently than you on most entries. Not because I am blind but because children are little and see things big.”

Mood music:

I don’t disagree with that. When you’re little you do see things big.

In this case, my mother was referring to the stuff I’ve written about my childhood and whether things really happened as I remember it. “I love you but cannot understand how you can go online and write these awful Mommy Dearest entries,” she wrote to me (full comment — and my response — at the bottom of this post).

For those who aren’t aware, “Mommie Dearest” is a memoir written by Christina Crawford, the adopted daughter of actress Joan Crawford. The book, which depicts Christina’s childhood and her relationship with her mother, was published in 1978 and released as a movie in the early 1980s.

Christina’s version of her childhood is brutal. By her account, her mother beat her with a wire hanger, made her scrub the bathroom floor in the middle of the night and cut her son and daughter from her will.

As kids we joked about the movie and often suggested our mom was “Mommie Dearest.” To this day, truth be told, the scene in the movie where Joan freaks out about the wire hanger sends me into a fit of laughter.

My mother always hated when we made the comparisons, which is understandable. The thing is, I don’t really remember her as a “Mommie Dearest.” Not even close. Ugly things did happen back then, but we suffered as a family. My mother reacted back then in ways that didn’t make sense to me, but I don’t see her as the symbol of a bad childhood. Not for one second. Her love for us kids was unmistakable, even when she struggled to cling to sanity in our presence.

Why do I write about it here, for all to see? There are several reasons.

To understand my adulthood with OCD and addictive behavior, it’s important to see how I got that way. History plays an important role in how our adult demons manifest themselves. If I don’t share this stuff, the reader won’t connect with all the points I make about how I was able to overcome a lot of demons. To that statement some will cry bullshit. That’s fine by me. The memories must be shared because that’s how the reader is able to relate what I tell them to their own experiences.

Those who have written me about how this blog has helped them gain perspective about their own lives and allowed them to start dealing with their problems always point to the back story. They relate to it first, and then they are able to put my end points into perspective. Without the raw recollections to chew on, you can’t start building a foundation of strong recovery.

Also, since this blog is part memoir, the author’s recollections will inevitably leave some people stung and pissed off.

This exchange with my mom has been useful in that it makes me look at my own behavior as a parent.

I’d love to tell you that I learned from my parents’ mistakes and have been a better dad as a result, but is that really how my kids see it?

After all, as my mother noted, when you’re little you see things big.

When they’re in their 40s, will they remember my smaller quirks as explosive outbursts that cut them to the core?

I guess I’ll find out in a few years.

But for now, it gives me extra incentive to conduct myself in a way that they will look back on with respect and happiness.

If I succeed, everything I went through will have been worth it.

Mommie_Dearest

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To The Child Who Thinks Obsessively

A few months back I wrote a letter to a girl named Addie, who has struggled with OCD. This is a similar letter for the child of a friend who is struggling with OCD and other mental disorders.

Some of what follows was in Addie’s letter. But I’ve added to the previous thoughts because I’ve learned even more about myself and how to manage my own OCD since that was written.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/QGEeNLXAWyg

Hey, there.

My name’s Bill, and I know a thing or two about what you are going through. I’m a friend of your Dad’s and he told me that you get stuck on one particular thought and can’t let go.

I’ve been there. That used to happen to me all the time. I usually compare it to the brain being like a scratched CD. The song gets caught in a skip and won’t move on to the next track. That’s what happens to us, isn’t it? We get stuck on a thought and can’t move on to the next thing no matter how hard we try.

The resulting pain is like a deep cut in the skin.

I bring it up for a couple reasons.

1.) To let you know that you are not alone. A lot of people suffer from this as we have.

2.) To let you know that you will be fine — better than fine. But you’re going to have to do some hard work to get there.

I’ve told those who ask that living with obsessive thinking is like being stuck behind a wall. Everyone worries about things, but the so-called normal people can still go on with life and even enjoy it, despite their cares.

Not us. We get stuck. Everything else stops and we get left in the dust while everyone else is moving on.

It causes anxiety, which is a nasty thing to live with. I spent the better part of my 20s and early 30s hunkered down in my bedroom because of it. I saw guys looking for a fight around every corner.

Whenever I had to get on a plane, I’d have visions of the plane going down in flames. If I had to make a stand or take a test in school or turn in a big project at work, my mind would spin violently with every negative thought one could have. I would fear for the worst, but never hold out hope for the best.

I worked myself into a stupor over the safety of my wife and children. I had an obsession with cleanliness, which was interesting since depression always meant my personal hygiene took a dive. I was terrified of world events.

Yet I got through each one of those moments.

One day I woke up and realized the fear and anxiety had to go. It took a long time, but through good therapy, medication and a deepening faith in God, those things did go away.

The first thing to remember is that you have a mom and dad who love you and will do anything for you. They will be your biggest allies. There will be others who will help you through it. Many, many others. Their support is much, much bigger than the things your anxiety has made you fear.

When my children were younger, they watched a show called “Veggie Tales.” One episode focused on a boy afraid of the boogie man. He learned a song called “God is Bigger Than the Boogie Man” and that made his fear much smaller. In time, it went away. God is bigger than anxiety, too. The fears you get from the anxiety are over things that aren’t real. The only thing that is real is the here and now, and what you do with it.

You ever watch Mister Roger’s Neighborhood on PBS? After the Sept. 11, 2001 terrorist attacks, he did a wonderful show about getting through bad times. He said:

When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” To this day, especially in times of disaster, I remember my mother’s words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers–so many caring people in this world.

Mr. Rogers learned a powerful lesson from his mother. I wish I had it in my head to focus on the helpers growing up. In hindsight, they were always there:

–The doctors and nurses who saved me from brutal bouts of Crohn’s Disease, which shaped how my OCD would manifest itself later on.

–The therapists who guided me through a diagnosis of OCD and showed me how to manage it.

–My family, especially my wife, and also my father and mother.

–My friends, who have always helped me make sense of things, made me laugh and done all the other things a person needs to get through the day.

–Many of the people in my faith community, who showed me how to accept God’s Grace, even if I still suck at returning the favor.

So that’s one of the big lessons: Always look for the helpers. You will always find them.

The other piece of advice is to never, ever let yourself believe that you can’t live life to the fullest because you have OCD.

Have you ever heard of Winston Churchill? He was Prime Minister of Britain during the darkest days of World War II. He often suffered from depression — he called it his Black Dog — and yet he led his country to victory over evil. He had a saying that I think of every day when the going gets tough: “Some people see a calamity in every opportunity. Others see an opportunity in every calamity.”

Do you like music? I find that music — rock and roll, specifically — soothes my soul in times of difficulty and gives me the strength to press on. There’s a band called Def Leppard that has an inspiring story of success despite bad things that could have stopped them cold. The drummer, Rick Allen, had an arm ripped off in a car wreck. A lot of people thought his career was over. Twenty-six years later, he’s still drumming. The example applies to people like us. OCD can only defeat us if we let it.

I’m not about to let that happen. I’ll bet you feel the same way.

I have a final and important piece of advice for you:

Even if you are able to free yourself of the obsessive mind freeze — and I know you will — you will still have plenty of OCD moments. I still check my laptop bag several times to make sure I didn’t forget my computer. I still go on a cleaning tear through my house if too many things are out of order.

That’s perfectly OK. As long as you learn to beat down the part where your mind spins with worry about things beyond your control, the other habits are fine. Since I’m open about my OCD, people don’t look at me funny when I have those “OCD moments.” They’ve learned to see beyond the habits and see me for who I am.

And sometimes, the OCD moment can be put to good use. If you have a big project, the OCD can push you to get it done and done right. It may seem strange, but if you learn to manage it, it can be very useful.

Some of our repetitive motions do look silly at times. Don’t worry about it. Learn to laugh at it instead.

Life is tough. But it’s supposed to be. It’s how we discover who we are and what we are capable of. I bet you are capable of a lot.

Take care of yourself, and keep the faith. You’ll get through this.

Yours truly,

Bill Brenner