Still Struggling. . . .

Today's posting will be different. I hope that's all right.

I begin with three confessions: I'm still struggling with the fact of my wife's death in November, 2006. I'm still struggling with the fact that I'm no longer teaching. I'm still struggling with the fact that I'm aging.

I've been unable to adjust to these losses. And for the first time in my life I feel I may have lost control of my present and future. I can't seem to accept these losses, no matter how hard I try.

To be fair to myself, several times during the past eighteen months or so, I've come to the point where I thought I'd arrived at an acceptable settlement. I mean: I'm abundantly aware that I've had a remarkably lucky and satisfying life. I absolutely KNOW that everyone suffers losses. I KNOW I have to face the present and future and build a satisfactory life. These three things I accept as an adult.

I do KNOW these things. However, I don't always FEEL as settled as I wish I were.

After all, who am I to expect I be spared the sort of losses everyone else suffers? Why must I continuously struggle with this inner-spoiled-brat who refuses to accept life's realities? I straighten him out, get him under control, make him promise to grow up. Then the first time I turn my back, he makes me aware he's still upset.

It's like there are two of us struggling for the upper hand inside me: the ADULT me who struggles for dignity and peace, who wants to behave in rational ways, who wants to act like a grown-up. Then, skulking around deep within me there's this SPOILED BRAT who won't behave, who will certainly shame me if I permit him to act out in public.

With the passage of time, this brat appears much less often. Still, I'm often afraid he will catch me by surprise and embarrass me in public.

However, at the same time, I also feel I should sometimes cut him some slack. After all: he's lost his mother. I know that's hard because I've lost my birth mother, too. And to the degree my wife mothered me, I've lost that part of her -- as well as my best friend and lover. Still, everybody has to grow up, has to develop maturity, has to live at least as much for others as self. Baby-steps finally have to lead to grown-up strides. Ultimately we all have to fulfill some good purpose and dance.

Don't think I'm whining. Nor am I complaining. I leave all that to this incorrigible brat.

Nor should you think I'm a lousy parent, just because I'm currently having trouble helping this kid. I know he's upset emotionally. I know it's difficult for him to be rational with a set of problems which are essentially emotional. I know he's trying to do and be what I continue to insist he do and be.

I know he's trying hard to grow up. He just keeps back-sliding. Exasperating!

Recently I've developed at least three learning activities I thought might help him.

For instance, just this past weekend I took him to see a pompon competition. I knew it would help him to watch talented young women behave with such wonderful maturity under challenging conditions. I wanted him to see what youngsters can accomplish when they are brave and determined, when they set their minds and bodies to difficult tasks. I wanted him to see how these pomers handled their disappointment when they had worked hard to prepare their routines, made their best effort, and then didn't place as high as they had hoped in the competition.

Of course, I don't know what he learned by watching these young women. I know that I learned that what we have to do is keep on facing difficult challenges until we handle them as we wish -- until we get to the place where we can again be proud of our performance. We're in it together, this upset child and me.

Right now he needs a good teacher. So I need to be the best teacher I can be for him right now.

When the child is ready, the teacher appears! And this is true whether or not the teacher is ready. A lifetime of teaching has taught me that the teacher just damned-well better be prepared! Or get prepared. Right now! No excuses!

Retired or not, I still think like a teacher. That is, I always think in terms of lesson plans and learning activities. I thought: I'll build a learning activity or two about bouncing back from debilitating loss.

So this afternoon I was rummaging through some old materials I brought home with me when I cleaned out my office in May of 2006. Accidentally, I came upon this old cartoon I've always loved and often used as a graduate-school professor to introduce a lesson on teacher determination and resilience.

The cartoon features this weird old monkish guy in a long robe. His hair and beard are long and straggly. He's all disheveled and disturbed. And he's carrying this big picket sign that reads:

It's just going to continue and continue!

The joke, of course, is that we've seen this guy many times before. And always before, his sign has said:

The world's coming to an end!

Showing this cartoon to my inner-kid was the second thing I tried. And it did make him laugh. I'm certain it helped him to realize that our current losses notwithstanding, life's going to continue, and we have to keep working together until we get ourselves straightened out emotionally.

After all: I'm the adult. I have to set a good example. I have to actively teach my child what I believe to be true: that if we try hard, eventually we will adjust in healthy ways to this new life thrust upon us by my wife's death. And I have to remain patient and hopeful, kind and determined. That cartoon -- and the discussion that followed -- seem to have done some good.

The third thing I tried was another happy accident. I started reading a book entitled Younger Next Year: A Guide to Living Like 50 Until You're 80 and Beyond. The book is based upon solid research that proves that vigorous exercise, solid nutrition, and a healthy attitude actually prolong and improve life. I suppose I've always known this. I've always been a yoga-workout-exercise-weight-training-and-run-or-walk-for-your-life-nut-case. But never before have I seen such convincing research that appears to prove the astonishing outcome of vigorous exercise and good nutrition.

So I've decided I'll study this book and develop my own self-study project. I know the project will be good for me. Into the bargain, I believe I may also work this troubled kid to life.

One other thing happened today that touched me, that made me feel less solitary and more hopeful. At the end of my last posting -- In Praise of Female Athletes -- I suggested that

maybe I can learn
a whole new way of
dancing through life. . . .

This morning I found an anonymous comment left by a reader who apparently has known me for many years. The reader was so kind and encouraging -- even cited some personal experiences we have shared at our university over the years.

This anonymous reader -- this angel -- suggested that if I truly wish to learn a new life-dance and teach it to my disturbed inner child,

all I need do is listen to [my] heart,
and let it start moving [my] feet.

I'm grateful to this reader for this comment. I've been trying to use my head all these months. And that hasn't worked as well as I've hoped it might. So be assured, dear anonymous reader:

I promise I'll try
following my heart.