In her book Option B, Sheryl Sandberg describes the devastating impact of unexpectedly losing her husband Dave during a trip to Mexico. The purpose of the trip was to renew their wedding vows after eleven years of marriage. One minute he’s on the elliptical trainer climbing his way to health, and the next moment he is lying on the floor, gone. Suddenly, she found herself in a deep void attempting to begin a life that she did not imagine nor choose. She described feeling completely unprepared and alone. Grief became a demanding companion, with ordinary events like school parents’ night becoming unexpected landmines.
Her friend and Psychologist Adam Grant flew across the country to support her. His words of comfort were that she would need to allow her grief to run its course. She asked Adam how she could get some resiliency. He told her that resilience is the strength and speed of our response to adversity. It isn’t about having a backbone, but rather, about strengthening the muscles around our backbone.
I know that many of you have endured life altering loses. “Option A” of life, as we originally expected it, no longer exists. It might be the loss of a person, of health, of your identity, or of your belief in the world. For some reason, the unfolding of your existence has been irrevocably altered.
What do we do in such times? In Sheryl’s case, it was to recognize that Option A as she put it, life with her husband Dave, was no longer available. The only option, according to her friend Adam, was to “kick the shit” out of Option B.
What stage are you in?
Have you started to allow yourself the possibility of developing an alternative option for yourself?
Like Sheryl, we encourage you to allow others in, to assist in the re-visioning and restructuring of your life. Know that we are here for you.
Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych. Founder, Landing Strong
It’s not uncommon that we see the best of people in the harshest conditions. It shows up in a number of ways: volunteers laying sandbags to fight floodwaters; communities taking in strangers to offer shelter from a storm; or in more extreme conditions, bi-standers risking their lives to protect or defend people they don’t even know.
It’s those critical moments when people show up when it counts the most. When we think back to those times, it is the moments of courage and compassion that strike us the most.
They say that North America is consumed by the search for happiness. Research studies reveal that it is, in fact, purpose, meaning, and social connection that are most important.
If you are reading this, chances are you are in some form of community service: military, policing, firefighting, corrections, paramedical, or medical. Perhaps your service is supporting those who have taken on these difficult roles. We take on these challenges for different reasons: to create something better for ourselves; to establish purpose or meaning in our lives; or even to be of service to our country. What’s interesting, though, is that ultimately when people are under fire it isn’t their country they are worried about – it’s the person standing next to them. It’s in social connection that we find the greatest meaning.
We all need someone who will have our back, in good times or bad. We all need a tribe, a family, or a group to call our own. Sometimes it takes something awful happening for us to figure this out.
Landing Strong is about creating a tribe: a place where we are all connected by our united sense of meaning and purpose. Our goal is to create opportunity for connection and movement for those who are tired of being where they are at and ready to move forward.
Another great restorative yoga class this week left me feeling calm and centered (thanks Lisa!). At the end of the class, we practice Savasana, a pose where we lie silently on our backs, eyes closed. This exercise isn’t a physically challenging one, but it is one where the mind tends to wander. During this part, our instructor played a wonderful rendition of the tune “Sea of Love,” the theme song from the 1989 box office movie sensation. In this moment, where we are supposed to be clearing our minds, I was replaying a scene from the movie involving Al Pacino, who plays the role of a burnt-out cop. He is part of a sting operation designed to apprehend people with outstanding warrants, luring them in with the promise of having breakfast with the American Major League baseball star Dave Winfield. Everything was going smoothly until one late-comer shows up holding the hand of his young son.
“Hey, am I too late?” he asks.
“You got an invitation?” Al Pacino demands. The father hands over a piece of paper.
“Ernest Lee, the invitation’s for you only,” Pacino asserts.
“I can hardly meet Dave Winfield without takin’ my boy”, the man pleads.
Not wanting to ruin what was clearly a positive relationship between father and son, Pacino decides to cut him a break.
“We’re all booked up.” Pacino discreetly flashes his police badge, signalling to the father that the baseball player event was a trap.
“Thanks man,” the father backs away with his son.
“Catch you later,” Pacino responds before driving away.
It’s a dark film, about a dark topic, but many years later that’s the scene I remember… someone in a dark place, showing an act of compassion.
Memory and association are closely related. It is not the actual events that create our emotions, it’s how we process and remember these events. If I were stressed out maybe I would have remembered the fact that Al Pacino was a drunk and that the movie was actually about a serial killer. Because I was relaxed, I just remembered the good bit… the compassion.
This is a reminder for me to take the extra time to care for myself. If I take this extra time the bad things I may have experienced don’t seem quite so awful. (And believe me, in my seven years acting as Chief Psychologist in a federal penitentiary, there was bad stuff). If I take the time to process these events, they don’t affect me as much. I am more able to remember the good aspects of my job.
Many of us have experienced or witnessed incredibly traumatic or dark things as a routine part of our daily work. Looking back, how we feel about them is largely determined by how we remember them. The lens of trauma only remembers things the same way, repeated over and over. By welcoming the perspective of others in a safe and supportive environment, we open ourselves to seeing things in a new light, often changing the way these events emotionally impact us.