My dad is a great teacher. He is very involved in his church and is constantly leading classes on raising kids (not sure if he has credibility there), marriage (he nailed that), communication, and other life stuff. Recently he sent me the book The DNA of Relationships by Gary Smalley. Dad’s using it for a class right now.
I’ve meandered through the book over the past month, and one of the big ah-hah’s for me has less to do about relationships and more to do with self.
Dr. Smalley suggests that happiness comes from within. He quotes Abraham Lincoln who said, “I reckon that people are about as happy as they make up their minds to be.” Smalley goes on to say that a relationship with another flawed human being will not make you happy. He asks, “Do two unhappy people normally form a happy couple?” The answer is no.
I’m no expert on resilience or tackling hard issues. I just did what I had to do. But one thing I did realize through my grief was that I couldn’t live in a state of unending sadness. I remember my counselor telling me in an early session after Lisa died that it would be three to five years before I would feel normal again – and that’s if I worked hard. My response to her was, “That is unacceptable.” I could not stay in that state. I had to get out.
I was fortunate to be surrounded by family and friends, including three incredible kids, who injected joy and purpose into my life on a daily basis. Although I was mad at God, I also had my faith. I knew there was something more than we see here on this earth. I clearly didn’t escape on my own. But there was something in me that drove me to seek more. That internal drive gave me my life back.
It wasn’t easy. There were times that I actually felt guilty about being happy. I had feelings of betrayal when I enjoyed life. But I kept thinking, my kids deserve a happy dad. They’re going to face other significant obstacles in their life, and they need to see that there can be happiness after tragedy. It was an example I had to set for them. And that drove me to get better.
I worked diligently to get my grief out – like sweating out a fever. I looked for ways to give back to help others in my situation. I leaned on Uncle Jesse and followed his lead of reinserting zaniness into our house. I leaned into my grief while simultaneously running in the opposite direction.
This strategy of aggressively facing my grief while looking for ways to combat it worked. It gave me the ability to develop new friendships, to have the courage to try new things and find new passions, and to enter into an incredible relationship with Julie, my girlfriend, who I truly, truly love. I can’t imagine my life today had I taken the alternate route.
Movement forward doesn’t come from others, although they can help. It comes from within. It comes from perseverance and an internal rejection of sadness or anger or resentment or whatever other negative emotion that festers inside us.
Those who know me would not describe me as an over the top optimistic dude. I’m naturally sarcastic and can be a bit Chicken Littleish, one eye always watching for the sky to fall. But those who look beyond the facade, they see more. I saw an old friend in downtown Raleigh recently. She looked me up and down and said, “I can tell you’re happy.” How refreshing to be described that way.
I am grateful I had it in me to declare war on grief. It’s a battle worth fighting.
