I find myself in a strange, yet lovely and new spot as I age. I am far more accepting of myself, the roles that I am called to, the ways these change like the tide and the ways they are beautifully and achingly the same. My role as “mom,” is ever-changing as my kids also age. With my oldest in college this year, my 17 year old son on the very brink of adulthood and my 13 year old daughter changing before my eyes, I would be remiss if I didn’t take an honest look at how I am changing as well…
They don’t need me the same ways they always have; they need me in different ways now. (By the way, THIS change is also wrought with both/and, the grief of changing family dynamics and the exhilarating moments of growth.)
Yes, I MUST acknowledge both/and as our family shifts a bit…otherwise, I forfeit the beauty and right-ness of God’s plans for all of our lives, rather than becoming bitter, fearful and sad at all the independence and therefore, change, that plays out in every moment of every day in our family.
There are other changes too…
I have been working for two full years with EMDR International (EMDRIA) to become a certified EMDR clinician, which will reach completion this week. Just as quickly, I will begin the process of becoming an approved consultant with this ground-breaking organization. As I look at the next chapter of this career I love dearly, I am focused on bringing continued perspective and growth to brave clients as well as assisting other therapists who also care deeply about complex trauma and the healing work of EMDR.
I am a part The Fred Rogers Educator’s Neighborhood for the next year as well. I am very honored to have been accepted by Fred Rogers Institute for this year long study. Along with a group of others who have been impacted by Mr. Rogers, we are together learning how to utilize Mr. Rogers’ wealth of knowledge, study and perspective in many areas of child, family and professional development. Though we have met only twice, I am so thankful to rub shoulders with others in the world who genuinely believe, like Mr. Rogers, that kindness really does change us all. And heavens, don’t we all need more kindness in the world?
As there always is in life, there are difficult adjustments too: this week, two significant deaths in our world. Though I specialize in grief and loss, it is still very personal when it happens to you or in your very personal corner of the world. Losses bring us to the opportunity (I say this so gently,) to look back, to grieve again or in new ways and to use losses to inform how we want to LIVE going forward.
There are new and enduring friendships, growth in so many areas as we have recently come home, again to the church that played such an important part of my life from age 14 – 24. God has stretched, challenged and blessed our family in profound ways in the process of leaving our former church, grief like I have never known in that process and the faithfulness of finding a new church community. It is both the biggest blessing to be cared for, to be vulnerable and to love and care for others in this new and not new church home.
Finally, there is the both/and as World Cerebral Palsy Day was observed on October 6, 2024.
It is a heart-wrenching thing, this part of my identity that I so wish wasn’t AND after many years of grappling with what it means for and about me, to find pride, hope and love for myself and fellow CP warriors. It is so holy to see, validate and celebrate the bad-ass-ness (I made that up, can you tell?) that comes with living with and caring for those with this disability. This week, a friend finally got to bring her son (who has CP) home from at least a month’s stay in the hospital for complications with seizures and other physical issues. I am stunned by her son’s (and her own) positive attitude after so much. For as much shame as I have carried and overcome in my lifetime around my own diagnosis with CP, it is gift to be able to smile and be proud on World CP Day.
Here’s the thing…God is not, will not and has never been surprised at the ways he created us, the things we do need to go manage here, apart from heaven and how we are limited in our humanity in the midst of these things. He IS with us, even if it feels like he absolutely IS NOT. Deuteronomy 31:8 says, ” The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.”
Ohhhh, that’s such a hard one, isn’t it? We are so human in that feeling that says, “why does God put me through this? He COULD change _________________…..”
I hear it multiple times a day and my own reaction is understanding the question AND compassion. What I hear in that phrase, I immediately think, “oh, he is NOT, putting you through it; he is holding you, as he himself hurts that this is happening too.”
I do not understand all the mystery that surrounds the what’s, how’s and whys that surround God and his sovereignty. I have been there too, crying in rage, frustration and desperation. I have also come to a place where there is more peace in releasing the whys to God’s care and fully trusting him anyway…
I suppose that is how, after many years, many feelings, many experiences and many prayers, I can joyfully put on my green World CP day t-shirt, raise a “cheers,” to my fellow bad-asses, and hold space for that rather than the negative.
I am curious, how are you experiencing change in this season? Maybe we can hold each up, give more care to ourselves and others and float on these crazy waves of change rather than fight them…
God, who is in it all, through it all and who holds it all together: Thank you for understanding our limits, frustration and even anger when things aren’t changing for the good. Thank you being near, always. May we seek your understanding, your heart and greater trust in your love and goodness. May we see ourselves and each other with your vision, compassion and desire for whole-ness. May we know love and joy as only you can give.
You can feel the energy building in your body, your head spinning….realize you must find a way to manage it….
Lace us your shoes; you leave your Air Pods home and now listen to each footfall, hoping you will find the answer to the question that is rattling your insides, even though the question itself is unclear.
You’ve been here before, this restless, angsty spot that feels both frustrating and exciting at the same moment. And even though you have felt this restlessness before, each time it is again surprising and unknown.
Maybe you are a high school senior, with a horizon full of dreams, questions, fears and possibilities. Or you are a newly pregnant mama with so many feelings at once. Perhaps your spot is one of fear, and unknowns you didn’t ask for. You are on an edge of new things, even though you simply long for “the old.” Maybe you are in a job that has lost the joy and you dream every day of the next or new chapter. Finding love again after a broken heart, a job transfer, retirement or something else. Maybe you are taking on a new challenge in your career or longing to add “____________” to your story.
Whatever THIS spot is for all of us, It IS both an exciting and terrifying one. Sometimes the both/and is an extremely difficult thing to hold inside ourselves.
The older I get, the more I realize that living in the both/and is far more important and “normal,” than it is to have a “definitive answer.” What I mean is, most of the time I am teaching how to acknowledge and get comfortable with the unknowns rather than helping with a single dimension of emotions and experiences.
I recently spoke with a parent who is newly divorced and is adjusting to a new life, including shared custody of their child.
“Stacy, I can’t just be ok. As soon as I pick up my child, which I counted minutes until I could do so, I immediately begin dreading the moment when I have to bring them back to my ex.”
This is actually a common difficulty that is voiced to me in the privacy of therapy. I cannot imagine that sense of joy and dread at the same moment. I pray for many who find themselves in this situation – it is one of the most difficult in the world from my perspective.
I spoke with another parent who said to me, “dropping my child off and leaving them at a college many hours away from our home is one of the hardest things I have ever done.” The sheer agony of separation after you have poured your heart and soul into them is impossible to comprehend. And, the joy of watching our beloved kids soar? Well, that too is indescribable. I can relate.
The now and not yet…
both…and.
Our lives are more full of these sentiments than the moments of feeling just one feeling (and now that I mention it, we’d all just love to feel “good.” would we not? )
I can see so many clients, friends and families faces as I type. It is agony to be IN the hard; pure agony. And, when we have someone with us, to hear, hold, yell, comfort and understand, it becomes a bit easier.
May I give you a glimpse into my office – where both/and is the standard?
She hung her head and cried until her whole body shook. I sat across from her in my office, feeling my own heart hammer as she described “fighting cancer again.” Her journey held so much insult this time around. She and her husband had both just retired, planned a “trip of a lifetime,” and now had to forgo it so she could begin a grueling and hopefully life-saving regimen of chemotherapy.
“I know you are going to BOTH/AND.” She blew her nose in soggy Kleenex and I leaned toward her with a box of new ones. She took two out of the box, then blew her nose demurely.
“Yes, I might….but then again, maybe not yet,” I answered her. We talked about her faith, her love for Jesus and her anger at him that seemed to bubble up without any warning. We talked about the injustice of the new diagnosis, mere months after a routine checkup with her family doctor. We talked plainly about fear and the terror of death. Then she straightened up, sat primly in my office chairs and tried to switch gears, I think for my benefit.
“I’m sorry, I’m good now…I’m sorry I cried.” She looked at me from across the room and I felt internally sad at the whiplash she had just been through. She began finding every single reason to get away from the subject she had just wept about.
“That must be so hard to have such limited time to feel all these hard emotions,” I started gently.
“No, I am fine!” She stated with false bravado.
“You are allowed to be scared.” I said, meeting her eyes. “Do you know that it’s ok to say that, both here and anywhere you need to?” She dissolved into shaking sobs again, soaking another Kleenex.
Our next few months were filled with ALL the both/ands, fears of leaving her beloved family, loathing about medical side affects of chemotherapy, injustice and cancer; comfort found in her well-worn Bible and relationship with Jesus Christ and her wonderings about heaven. She wouldn’t talk about it, much, just referring to it, “when I get there.”
We talked often about my favorite Psalm, 13. It is the ultimate both/and to me.
She continues to fight the cancer that threatens her body, but not her heart and soul. She only rolls her eyes a little when I still mention both/and. Her eyes glisten when she speaks of being with Jesus and loved ones she longs for. In this context, the excitement for heaven is as real as the hope for more time.
She continues to teach me more than I believe I teach her. Love, passion, drive and joy in the life she gets to continue living. Not letting fear drive, we say throughout our time together.
She is just one that I have the honor of spending my days with. One of the strongest I’ve ever met, along with her family. There are others in their own middle, each battling to hold feelings that seem to oppose one another. They tell me often about being disgruntled that they know both/andAND grateful that they know both/and.
That is exactly right, being able to acknowledge our grief, pain and fear that may not be best described with words….and, holding unswervingly to the hope we profess.
“Stacy. When will I get THERE? When will I just be ok?” You would be shocked at how often I am asked this or something very similar. Oh, my heart WISHES I could answer this in the way soo many would like me to…I cannot. I often answer with something like this: “I know it’s so hard to wait…how do you care for yourself in the waiting for the next right step.” This is my verbal reply. Most of the time, this is the answer in my own head, sometimes a version a what I say to clients, my beloveds, or myself: “You are getting there, In exactly the right time, in the way he allows. If there is the right college decision, getting an answer after tryouts, awaiting test results, finding fulfillment, love or purpose after a long drought, Jesus is already there. Keep holding on, trusting yourself and being kinder than necessary. In the meantime, give grace. Listen more, speak less. Be a friend to yourself and others. Allow for the whole range of being human, feeling all the things, receiving comfort in many ways and trusting that somehow, all shall truly be well, even when we can’t see it.”
xoxo
Both/And
Psalm 13
00stacy@stacymcneely.comhttps://stacymcneely.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Stacy2-1030x172.pngstacy@stacymcneely.com2024-09-16 08:21:222024-09-16 08:21:22Angst, agony, excitement and hope…
“Shhh….” My love wrapped his arms around me, my heart hammering and breath fighting to get down to my lungs. “Imagine a canoe, gliding through the water, no sound, other than the water of the river. Drops drip off the paddle, look around and just see everything with wonder….”
After he’d described this to me a few times, I felt my body begin to settle, my muscles gradually aching with an unwinding from being tensed up due to CP and anxiety. I couldn’t feel each heartbeat any more, which was good, because I was calming. My love just continued to hold tight, and the grace he gave stunned me – I’d never known a love like this one and never will again. It is the closest I can imagine to the love of God, which I know was God’s very plan for marriage. Still, if I am honest with you, it is tough to feel worthy of this much love and grace, from both Husband AND the God of the Universe….and both seem to lavish it on me over and over.
This river is a long, unintentionally cultivated image between us, born out of many things. It is my favorite, most calming imagery when my emotion brain has highjacked my system, when my thoughts race and I can’t seem to slow them down; when I am triggered by, something. Anxiety among those with CP is very common, but we know that those without CP are also greatly impacted. The numbers of those diagnosed with anxiety has sky-rocketed in the last 5-7 years.
I hear it over and over in counseling sessions: the moments of flight, fight or freeze when something alarming sends a signal to our amygdala to release cortisol and adrenaline (emotion brain). In the same instant, our ability to access logic and thought, problem solving and sometimes the “obvious” reaction (logic brain), is rendered useless until something calms that overworked amygdala.
For nearly as long as I have been a licensed MSW and practicing counseling, this concept has been an important part of my sessions, at least once a day; but often, more than that. It is, along with both/and, the most important concept that I teach. It is not uncommon to have a laugh with clients who after a few times hearing it, are lovingly complaining that once I teach it, they can’t unhear it. Believe me, I get it! I even eyeroll myself at times when I just want to rant and engage in emotion brain, but instead, the words in my head are, “deep breaths, smell the flowers, blow out the candles.”
I use so many analogies with clients, some funny, others poignant and others downright silly, but I don’t know….maybe we all do better if we have a picture in our heads along with an important concept. I often ask them if they remember old cartoons when someone is panicking and breathing into a brown paper bag? While we giggle about the images, this is how it is with our amygdala: they just need AIR…slow quiet breaths in order to get back to a “normal level of stress,” turn off the flood of adrenaline and cortisol and return to logic brain.
For me, there are a couple instant images when I think about managing anxiety: anxiety floating like leaves on a river and Montana.
When I was an MSW intern at our local Hospice, I soaked up as much knowledge as possible from my gifted supervisor and the entire team, a multitude of disciplines and so many books on death, dying and the grieving process. One such book that left a lifelong impact is Dying Well by Ira Byock. It is a book filled with the truth as I and so many others have have lived it in regards to death and dying. While that entire year spent at Hospice was life-changing, I think the book normalized and encouraged the lens that was already developing for me, the lens of value, dignity, respect and normalcy in all areas of life, not approaching death or grief as a taboo subjects but instead, striving to be with our friends, family, neighbors, communities and even acquaintances in this stage of life. It was another layer of not wanting the assumptions, not about someone dying, their thoughts, needs or purpose. “We needn’t wait till death is knocking at our door to realize that the treasures in our lives are the people we love or have loved,” says Byock.
The book has a way of showing how the pace of slowing, how the being with one another IS the gift, even in end of life moments. It is the vision of release, slowing drifting as the river carries the leaves: our fears, pain, desire to fix, our deep grief in the loss of ones we love. All of these images have become the very fabric of my being. Acknowledging, processing, grieving and being at peace.
I drank up every sentence in that book. At that time, Dr. Byock’s blurb in the back pages said that he lived and worked in Missoula, Montana. And at the time, that was my only frame of reference for Montana. One day, after a long work/internship day and evening classes toward my MSW, I told my boyfriend (now husband,) “I think we should just run away to Montana. I want to go work with Dr. Byock.” He looked at me quizzically and I explained, Dying Well, my admiration for Dr. Byock and how the holiness of Hospice work was seeping into my bones. He hugged me tight and said, “I’ll go to Montana with you….” (there is a reason he is husband.) From then on, when I had a particularly rough day or a very inspiring one, I would somehow insert or inquire about going to Montana. And he always says the same thing: “I’ll go to Montana with you…”
We’ve been together for nearly 23 years and all along the way, Montana has remained a dream. Kids, homes, dogs, life, required our finances and to be honest, the time has just not been right. Though I now sometimes surf VRBO and Airbnb when I have a day and dream of Montana, hint shamelessly and somedays, just threaten to book our vacation, we have not YET. When we watched the series, Longmire, a few years ago, I even decided on the river I wanted to find…then found out is ACTUALLY in New Mexico! Still there are rivers waiting in many places…and watching Yellowstone has stoked our desire to go, in all new ways….
But we haven’t yet…
I think the dream of Montana and it’s calming power is actually in the imagining. Not that I don’t want to go! But I think if the idea of the river, log cabin, canoe and horseback riding can instantly calm me, then perhaps I am afraid to change the dream with the real live experience…
Do you know what I mean? Have you ever hoped for a thing and then it FINALLY arrived and the luster wore off way too soon? Then it was just over….. I would be heartbroken if these images that have been so steadfast and comforting, the splash of the river and the drips from the canoe somehow changed in real – life. And…we really do want to go find my Longmire River. I KNOW deep down that Montana’s beauty will be unparalleled. And…I really want to go sit on the bank and thank Jesus for the majestic landscape, to hold my love’s hand and say, “I’m so glad…we finally came to Montana.”
I pray you have ones that will hold you during moments of inspiration, fear, anxiety and everything in between. I pray all the dreams and hopes that God has placed within you will be realized, ten-fold. I pray that you can see him everywhere from the beaches in Michigan, fields of Ohio, the evergreens of Portland, the crashing surf of Hawaii and wherever your place is….
I pray you are inspired by leaders in your field, that hope and dignity abound and that we all can one day not need images to calm us, but that God’s presence instead floods every inch of our beings.
I pray for the richness of living well and when the time comes that grace and mercy usher us to the feet of Jesus, the arms of God the Father hold tight with peace; and HIS gentle murmur, all shall be well.
Both/And
1 Peter 5:7
xoxo
https://stacymcneely.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Stacy2-1030x172.png00stacy@stacymcneely.comhttps://stacymcneely.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Stacy2-1030x172.pngstacy@stacymcneely.com2024-07-17 16:14:102024-07-17 16:14:10Leaves on a stream, Montana and taking deep breaths…
I have a multi-faceted personality, if I can be honest with you. I am all sorts of things: introverted and love when I get to interact with my closest circle or those I find a new connection with; both anxious about the how’s, where’s and what’s that accompany my disability and very comfortable in other familiar settings, especially my back porch! I am both a rule-follower and I have a bit of a adventurer, perhaps even rebel streak. I’ve never tried cigarettes but have long thought IF I was ever going to, I was going to be a badass and try a cigar… (my 13 year old daughter’s eye’s popped out of her head as she proof read THAT sentence!)
I’ve long been living with both/and even before I knew it was a thing…
My first tattoo happened in my twenties. My dear friend Jeannine and I ventured into Purple East, which at the time, did tattoos. I felt so brave (and a bit badass if I am really honest) as BJ etched a tiny Jesus fish on my ankle. The backstory….
I was working at the time at an alternative education high school and soon into my job, I began to see how, for so many, tattoos are an external view of the parts of their story that they were willing to physically and emotionally show. When I stopped to realize what a privilege that is, it made me curious about every single tattoo I encountered. It also began to normalize the idea (and importance for some,) of wearing what is most important to you….
I had the privilege after getting my degree in social work to blend a job I adored and being “in ministry,” which as I age, just makes me grin, because no matter what we do, when we follow and love the Lord, we are all in ministry, aren’t we? I so love this idea…. and anyway, I digress.
Because I knew without doubt that my love for Jesus was forever, I decided that I wanted a tattoo, a small ichthus (Jesus Christ, God’s Son, Savior some commentaries translate). I remember explaining my surgery scar to BJ, the tattoo artist, the reason for my ichthus and the call to my parents to tell them about it afterward. I was both nervous and proud as I waited for their reaction, after this adult decision of my own!
I had also decided I wanted 2 Corinthians 12:9 curved around my ichthus which says, “My grace is sufficient for you, in your weakness, I am strong.” It was placed where it was, (as close to that big surgery scar as possible) as a reminder for all Jesus has brought me through, and all he has yet to: the painful, hard and really beautiful. It is a reminder that at my weakest, (or my strongest), he will be my strongest.
I will NEVER forget my first day back to the high school after getting that tattoo. It was late spring, I had intentionally worn shorts. I was expecting the question, hoping to share about Jesus. Because of the separation of church and state, I could not bring it up, but if they asked, I could definitely answer! It came much different as I expected though…
“Miss, what’s that say?” one of the girls half sneered, half curiously asked me.
“Corinthians. It’s a -” I began to answer but was interrupted quickly.
“Well, that your boyfriend?” She emphasized, wide, expectant eyes.
How I loved that moment and will never forget it, ever. It was real and true to the lives these kids experienced. I did get to tell her about my Jesus, my verse and so much more. For the next couple years in that school she would smile when she saw me, introduce me to friends as “Miss Stacy, she loves Jesus,” point out the tattoo or even tell the “Corinthian/boyfriend” story. I loved every moment.
That tattoo faded a bit, but brought about so many conversations as many years passed. In February 2020, there was this, an event and post I wrote just before COVID changed us all, the landscape and how we all all see things… in our weakness for sure.
A few weeks ago in church we had a sermon on “what does God think about politics.” Ben Post spoke eloquently, introduced Ve’ahavta, Hebrew for “and you shall love.” I have been resonating with his words for weeks, the idea of loving God and his people, despite differences. I am a strong believer in kindness, caring for others and giving the grace we would desire for ourselves. E wrote “Ve’ahavta” on my wrist on that Sunday and it felt like it was meant to be there. When it washed off, I asked her to write it again and again. Then I knew, I wanted it there permanently in her writing. Today, she, Jeannine and I went to do just that. (They for support.) I am so thankful for the example of my Savior to LOVE. I hope that reminder to love only gets stronger. I am thankful for the many conversations to come from E’s handwritten reminder. And you shall love indeed.
I must tell you that even TODAY, FOUR YEARS and A FEW MONTHS LATER, I still, (STILL!) love seeing, feeling and explaining what this means to me. I love her writing, the consistent reminder to love. Just that…LOVE. Love when I see the annoyed cashier… or the client who I need to remind about an overdue account. Love myself and the extra pounds I wish would disappear, and the pups who chewed on my new shoes. And you shall love ( really try to model yourself after Jesus…)
Two Springs later, my youngest sat on my lap, running her finger over E‘s word on my wrist.
“Mama, are you going to get a word in my writing too?”
“Do you WANT me to get a tattoo in your writing? What would it be? ” I asked, surprised, but not surprised by her question.
“Yes, I do…” she said thoughtfully, then a few minutes after we both sat in silence, she asked if she could write her word. I knew if it had worked that way for one, it just might for the next….
She carefully, with fierce concentration and her tongue sticking out the way it always does when she is drawing the most important thing, wrote the word… J I R E H.
My heart skipped a beat…
She and I would belt out Jireh by Elevation and Maverick City every car ride to school, it was our anthem and our understanding of Jesus’s own heart. The Hebrew translations, in my limited knowledge says, “the Lord will provide.” It is layered with personal meaning as well as biblical meaning.
“Why that one, babe?”
“It’s our song and when I hear the song or the word I feel at peace.” I hugged her tight and wondered how long it would be until I made the appointment…..
A few weeks and many rewrites later, hubby got home from work a bit early. I spontaneously asked him to call the tattoo place just a few minutes down the road to see if we may be able to get it done.
That evening, my son’s best friend came over, was the first to see it and his smile was one I will not forget. “That is the coolest tattoo ever.” Joel told me. I smiled, knowing I loved all three of my little drawings….
The following Spring, I realized it was just undone, that I wanted words from my boys since my girls had both been so impactful. They were not as spontaneous, both needed some time to consider which word.. But what they came up with was no less important… sweet son and I have spent time watching all the Marvel movies together and most days, somewhere along the way will repeat to each other, I love you, 3000. If you know Marvel, you know. And If you don’t…well, it will be some fun research for you.
Hubby picked the word, adored, a word that even after 22 years together, I still struggle to understand. Am I really worthy of his adoration? And what does it truly mean? And do I show him mine enough?
(Oldest wanted to pick her own word, because technically, ve’ahavta was my own choice. Because it was the season of beginning to look at colleges, she wanted, always home to remind me that “wherever I go, mom, you will always be my home.”
Back to my now favorite tattoo place, and there I was, with my neat little square. It has been about one year exactly of loving those reminders of Jesus, my loves and their own handwriting. There have been countless conversations about my square, (for lack of a better description) and the pure love that comes with each…
You think you know what’s coming, don’t you? It’s a little different than you think…
Remember that trip I took with hubby to Disney in February? One night, as we got settled into the bus to return to our resort, I noticed a woman with a beautiful tattoo all the way up her arm. I sat in my wheelchair, unaware that I was comparing her tattoo and my own lovely square, looking back and forth between us. I don’t think I really thought much more than, to be honest, that hers was pretty, I wondered what the story behind it was, and if I’d been within earshot, I would’ve asked.
Cast member unlocked my chair, wished us good night, thanks us for visiting; rolled me down the ramp. Hubby took over pushing and with the voice of the one who knows me as well as I know myself, said, “I saw you looking at that lady’s tattoo. I can see you adding to yours and having something similar.” I couldn’t see his face as we entered the resort, but I could feel his truth, love and his big smile. I was both dumbfounded and I felt entirely known, even though I hadn’t even thought of it myself….
We talked about it many times during the week in line at Disney, while we nibbled on Mickey pretzels and “plastic cheese” and as we noticed others’ tattoos. We talked about it when we got home, with the kids who were so excited about the idea…which again, surprised me.
My E began drawing my story in tattoo form, all the meaningful parts of me and the pillars of what makes me who I am. I love her artwork so very much so that process was such fun by itself. What came out of all it was the desire to share who I am in an outward way that ultimately gives glory to God; gratitude for individuality, for love, the love of family and being content exactly as I am. From the time of Hubby’s comment to the ultimate design, the process was so full of “us.” And it felt so right…
Off to visit JR and Michelle, then a few weeks wait. The timing was perfect though, as my appointment was the Friday before Mother’s Day and just one week before E’s graduation open house. It wasn’t until I sat in the chair, with JR set to go that I realized that this time would be very different than getting my words. I gulped, and we were off….
4 hours later, JR had the bones of the tattoo finished. It was absolutely right. I was in a bit of pain and so much joy as I looked down the first night…hubby was in awe, daughter had hung in supported me the whole time and I just felt incredibly strong. That is SUCH a rare feeling about ourselves, isn’t it? I felt like, YES! Here I am! Let me tell you about my Jesus, my story, my personhood.
The next day I returned to have JR put the finishing touches on my new sleeve, a part of me that now feels like it has always been there.
-Along with my square are the kids birthdays and our anniversary. Next is my anchor, a symbol of many things including my alma mater, my hope, and a few special others. Going clockwise is BOTH/AND; Michigan, a representation of the Wind (an element in which I always feel God’s presence and power) and half of a quote that I share with my oldest daughter. Te amo represents my kids commitment to becoming bilingual and their love. Coordinates for one of my favorite places, my bike (freedom of movement) and then my hero Mr. Rogers is represented with 143 and Mentionable Managable. Up on my bicep is a butterfly in a state of change, the picture for me of Psalm 13. There is so much wrapped up in that butterfly, my hospice work and memories, my Jesus and so much hope. Finally, a windmill and Mickey; Lastly is a favorite quote from Cinderella, one of those life quotes that has just become my regular.
I keep looking at it and smiling…I keep grinning, feeling very unexpected, badass and so content; almost willing people to ask about it so I can tell about any part in which Jesus IS the story.
I told my mom, “I know this is probably not your thing. But I am so thankful, that in all of this life, through all the work I’ve done, I know who and whose I am.” She hugged me tight and said, “I’m so glad.” Me too, Mama. Me too.
Thank you my Jesus, for the so many ways that YOU create beauty, artistry, story. Thank you that you make each of us with unique loves, interests and things that move us deeply. May we always give you the glory. May we be curious about those around us who are willing to share their stories and reach out to hear them. And help us to see you reflected in it all.
I have long considered the things I learn from Disney. Some things fun, others silly, still others poignant, which is I think is the biggest draw for most people who return again and again. I know myself well enough to to know as well, that I can find meaning in almost everything, something that at 50, I’ve learned to love about myself. With my calling in life being family, relationships, following Jesus Christ and leaning into the counseling career God has brought me to, Disney is part of my learning and teaching every day.
I’m not sure how old I was when I saw Bambi the first time. I remember Bambi’s big, baby eyes, his mother’s kind and loving voice; the way the music took me on a musical journey from, “drips to drops,” storms and then back to the cozy thicket. The bond they shared through various seasons and then, the forlorn cries for his mother following panic and fear in the meadow. The truth from his father: “your mother can’t be with you anymore.”
As gut-wrenching as that scene will always be, Disney created such a beautiful picture (in 1942) about the circle of life, family bonds, love, joy, heartbreak, growth and around again. Without really saying words, Disney gave the image of Bambi persevering, even after the loss of his beloved mother. With still further trauma in a raging forest fire, there are further images of perseverance and finally, Bambi’s rise to adulthood and leadership.
In Old Yeller, 15 year old Travis is tasked with “adulthood,” in protecting his mother and brother on the prairie while his father is away. While the song is catchy and probably a memory itself, the story always grabbed my attention as a kid as well: the loyalty of a stray, the winning over of Travis’s heart, difficulties of family life and the bravery of Travis to euthanize his beloved dog when illness struck. The selflessness of that scene is stunning and brave.
What amazes me still, so many years after the production of these movies is how the creators struck a balance between the realities of life, death and the sense of natural progress toward health, perseverance and continued life. Though I was young when I saw these the first time and I didn’t have the awareness that I have now, I look back at all of the lessons in so many Disney movies with wonder.
When The Lion King was released in 1994, I was one year away from college graduation. I was in the thick of studying to become a social worker, a true Disney fan and I had experienced my first traumatic loss barely a year before. I did not realize how I was still in the throes of grief, or how this poignant movie would change me for the good. From the first strains of the first song, (if you know what I mean, you KNOW…) The Lion King was majestic. The animation had come such a long way during the renaissance of the 80’s and 90’s, as well as the heartfelt music. I’ve long heard that the Broadway production of the Lion King is “a spiritual experience” as well.
As beautiful as it began, Disney brought fans to the height of wonder, down to the true and intentional malicious nature of Scar, quite quickly. It depicted the bond between King Mufasa and Simba, father and son – teaching, guiding, discipling and laughing in such a natural and beautiful way that when Mufasa was brutally murdered just a few short minutes later, I wonder if audiences even knew what had hit them.
I remember sitting in the theater with college friends, in tears, then sobs as Simba tiptoed near his father’s body after the stampede. My heart even then, wondered how children endure such loss of parents when they are so young. I resonated with losing someone who you desperately want back.
Disney depicted Simba’s grief journey in again, such stunning and natural ways, the shock, bargaining, and avoidance; deep sadness, the reconciling we all do in whatever our process of grief. One of my favorite scenes, STILL, is the scene in which Simba runs, believing he will somehow find his father. Instead, is the reality when sees only his own reflection, fights frustration, then hears his father’s voice, “Remember who you are….”
Over the course of time and nearly 30 years of experience in counseling including grief and loss, end-of-life care and trauma, I have learned how shaken we can become while enduring loss. This certainly has varying degrees, depending on each individual, circumstances surrounding the loss and how we process. I often spend time normalizing spiritual conversations and the difficulties of who we are, why or the purpose for a loss “happening to us.”
Mufasa’s voice, urging Simba to remember “who you are,” for me, has some of the tone I hear in the Book of Job. After losing all his possessions, family, health – Job is struggling, grieving and just cannot understand. Though Job wrestles, God does not answer all of his “WHY’s??” God instead reminds Job (and us) that it is HE who knows the number of our days, the sovereignty he possesses and the way he works all things together for good. He asks us to remember, (even in the wrestling, profound loss, realigning after a loss or even being shaken to our core,) that WE ARE HIS. Remember…
When the movie UP arrived in theaters, I had two small kids who kept me hoping! I might have been in a bit of a fog with a 4 and 2 year old. We rented the DVD, because in 2009, that was still a thing and admittedly, we missed this one in the theater. We settled in for family movie night for what I thought was going to be something else entirely. (Like I said, probably toddler-mom-brain-fog.) While we munched popcorn and I had the kids snuggled in my lap, I found the tears falling quickly in the first 12 minute montage. The life of Carl and Ellie gave me a glimpse again, of the journeys I encounter with many clients. How the animators captured such deep love in the face of Carl, the hardness that grief can produce, the way we sometimes find ourselves unrecognizable AND the hope that can be found in others throughout the loss of loved ones, can only be explained by assuming that the animators themselves MUST HAVE endured profound loss themselves.
Another amazing truth that UP conveys, is the normalcy of continued relationship with a person who has died. I know this may be a little tricky, so keep reading, please!
As I walked through that first loss of my Gram, I had a dear friend and mentor at Hope College who spent time with me, normalizing my shock, understanding my many emotions and explaining grief in ways that helped me heal. One day he told me how he had seen a client who had set the table for themselves and their spouse for nearly two years after the loss of their spouse. I was surprised at the way Jim talked about this and then explained, “that might be a little on the extreme side of grief, but we continue to have relationship with our person even after they’ve died.” It brought tremendous comfort to me, as I was furious that people were referring to my Gram as “she was…” almost instantly. Jim further explained that the relationship means talking about them, remembering, telling the stories, acclimating the loss into our “new normal.”
There are cases, (often exaggerated on tv or movies) that involve people suffering mental illness and believing their person is still alive and with them. This is not what I am referring to regarding continued relationship. If you are someone struggling to decipher between the two in the midst of loss, please seek a professional grief therapist to support you. Grief is such hard work….
The relationship that Carl has with Ellie even after her death feels healthy, though still gut-wrenching in its physical loss. But he also carries her with him and ultimately learns how to channel that into a profound relationship with Russell. I so love how she is carried on in Carl’s present, as I have seen countless others do as well.
One last example….
In Frozen 2, we find Anna, desperate to protect the relationship that has evolved with her sister Elsa after enduring a tragic loss of their parents and even lonelier grief process for them both in the first Frozen. As Elsa now chooses to follow her own path, Anna finds herself again enduring heartbreak. First, the loss of Olaf, her trusted friend, then also believing Elsa has perished. Below is a clip of the haunting song she sings, willing herself toward, “the next right thing.” It is profound to me, a mirror of the many hours I have listened to those left breathless following a loss. I’ve heard from many clients how it is “exactly right” in describing the pain, profound heartbreak and will it requires to keep going after one we love deeply has died.
For me, that “next right thing,” the ability to keep going in the midst of loss, are many of our hardest moments – unthinkable really. Also for me, is the reality that God is the only way anyone is able to take another step. He is the voice inside that somehow compels us to get up, take another step, take another breath and continue one after another. That is not to force God’s provision on any, rather, it is simply my truth.
Whether you are rolling eyes about my “deep Disney connections,” have thought some of these yourself, find yourself facing grief or are just trying to summon the courage to take another breath, let me remind you of just a couple things:
Love will in some way, at least on this side of heaven, involve loss. I have heard the quote, “grief is the cost of great love.” If we want to experience deep, connected love, then we are at risk of great heartbreak. Jesus also tells us though, “33 I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.” John 16:33 God promises that this pain will not have the last word for those who love and seek him. (Praise be to God!)
God created us with the ability to persevere, because he is WITH US. (Not just in the good, but in the unthinkably hard.)
Grief is a marathon, not a sprint. Mourning is grief that is actively moving in some direction. Remember who you are, whose you are, while in the messy, crazy-making process. God knows the days, the moments, the breaths that are so hard to take…
“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.” Isaiah 43:2
Lean on friends, family, your roots and if you are willing and able, the God of the Universe who loves you deeply. Allow others to carry you, whether that is a grief therapist, a friend who opens the door and wipes your tears after you’ve held things together for awhile. A pastor, or support group. You were never meant to endure alone…
Stay in today, or even in this one hour. One step, then another. Take a bite of something, even if you are not hungry. A sip of tea, one phone call or a shower. One thing at a time. You see, one thing can add up to another and another and another. In time, Spring will come again, you may breathe just a bit easier and you will be able to carry your loved one with you into whatever comes next.
I am praying for you as you grieve a loss of many kinds. You are not alone.
Both/And
xoxo
https://stacymcneely.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Stacy2-1030x172.png00stacy@stacymcneely.comhttps://stacymcneely.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Stacy2-1030x172.pngstacy@stacymcneely.com2024-03-23 17:36:352024-03-23 17:36:35What Disney has taught me about traumatic loss…
I hardly know where to start when I think about writing about Disney, Disney movies and how these come together in my day to day…and yet, that’s probably because for me, it all blends together – my interests, my work, family and Jesus (rarely in that order).
I seem to talk about all of them together in whatever way or however I am speaking, so I suppose writing about them all together will not be that different.
I wanted to start by telling you, this fascination and joy with Disney probably began with our family trip (see last post) and then my first Disney movie at age 8. I don’t remember a ton of movies from my childhood, but goodness, for some reason my first was an instant favorite. We went to see the Fox and the Hound in 1981 and I was an fan! An orphaned fox, the cutest pup and all the emotions building to their unlikely friendship. I went home and named my own stuffed fox and dog, “Todd and Copper,” replaying their adventures all over our house. Many of the Disney classics had been released long before and most were still in the Disney “vault” as I grew up, but the seeds of curiosity, love and story had been firmly planted in my being.
I remember being absolutely horrified at Bambi, the very idea of little Bambi being orphaned was unthinkable to my sensitive heart. Still, the joy of Thumper and Flower made me smile and this movie too was cataloged as beautiful in my brain. We watched some others as I grew up – The Parent Trap, Swiss Family Robinson…I loved them all. I couldn’t get enough. The Wonderful World of Disney was on Sunday nights, always a staple along with a huge bowl of popcorn. FOND memories….
Around the beginning of 9th grade, we had moved to our current city, changed schools and church. We began attending Fellowship and met friends all around us. I also got a job at a local kids’ book store, called, “Pooh’s Corner.” My manager, Lisa, had befriended me a couple years before as I browsed the original, “Pooh’s Corner bookstore” at a mall about 45 minutes from our house. My love for Disney continued, along with a developing love for books. Lisa was instrumental in my self esteem, my own acceptance as she modeled those same things in how she treated me.
Around that same time, the Disney Studios released, “The Little Mermaid.” My cousin Pam took me to see it and I was thunderstruck…I was at an age where I believed in things like “love at first sight,” was completely enamored with auburn hair (this is an upcoming blog post, I am sure) and LOVED the music. I played the cassette over our speaker system at Pooh’s every time I could, belted it out in my room when that cassette was released for purchase and quickly deemed Ariel, “the best Disney princess, EVER.”
The release of The Little Mermaid is viewed by many historians as the beginning of “The Disney Renaissance era,” from 1989-1999. Though I am not by any stretch, as knowledgeable as these historians, I can tell you that for me, this era solidified my love, fascination and identity related to “loving Disney.” In my mind, I related to Ariel. I believed that I “should have been born with red hair,” also naively hoped that “my prince would show up, poof, we’d fall in love and live with Jesus, happily ever after.”
One of the biggest connections I felt though was pure freedom and a sense of lightness when I could get in someone’s pool. (Maybe this is how mermaids feel?) It was a spot of freedom from the complications of cerebral palsy. I DREAMED of life IN the water. I thought she was so brave (and a bit crazy) to defy her father, seek her own path and oh, her voice….
There are a lot of lessons that I learned from Ariel, her friends and family, some I continue to learn into my adulthood and add to with the release of the live-action version of The Little Mermaid last year. Here are a few, in no particular order.
Don’t be afraid to be a “help.” Be safe, yes, but also quick to assist as needs arise.
Be curious – “whoozits and whatzits galore, you want thingamabobs? I got 20…” I think Ariel (both) gave a great vison of leaning into the the things that bring us awe and curiosity. For me, this translates to the ways God has created each of us with interests, passions and curiosities, the nudging of the Holy Spirit to become those God-gifted versions of ourselves.
Be aware of everything around you. As I grew up, I became more and more aware of the parts of Ariel that concerned me. As I often do with movies, I find myself thinking or speaking out loud, “why are you going in there, down there, through there, etc?! Don’t you see (or FEEL) the danger??” I am well aware that if Ariel had listened to the warning signs that screamed as she approached Ursula, the movie might have flopped, but I do think it’s a great talking point to listen, look and pay attention, especially, if something “looks and sounds too good to be true, it just may be.”
Following your heart in the moment may bring more trouble than “a dream come true.” (and we all want “the dream come true.”
Always try to be open-minded and non-judgmental about others. I loved how the current Ariel was brave in saying to her father, “not all humans are bad, father.” He assumed because a human had harmed his wife, that all “are barbarians.” I think both movies did this well, but the more recent Little Mermaid was much more pointed and articulated about this truth.
There are so many to name…including, fish are friends, not food!” Even so, the one that came to me out of the blue, very early in my career has to do with Ursula, shipwrecks and grief.
Do you remember the scene after Ursula secures the trident and grows to a towering monster of the sea? She begins to swirl the water where Eric and Ariel swim, creating a whirlpool from the sea floor up to the surface. As she swirls, long buried shipwrecks begin to rise to the top of the water, bobbing and swaying in the frothy, tumultuous water.
While an intern at Hospice, it occurred to me how an immediate loss was much like Ursula in that scene. Throughout my career, that analogy has become even clearer, especially with a traumatic loss. Subsequently, our past losses (shipwrecks) also rise to the surface as we move through current loss. Over time, this analogy has normalized a lot of loss, trauma and connection. The image allows me to give a framework to how losses, both current and past, connect and impact so many parts of us as we tend to the unwanted path of grief. And though this (probably) was not Disney’s meaning behind that scene with Ursula, shipwrecks and crashing waves, it has been the truest image of grief that I have ever seen.
The newest version of the Little Mermaid gives us deeper messages of acceptance, explanation, strength and grief: The crashing of hope, differences in beliefs, needs and desires; the unexplained loss of many and finally, a deeper understanding allows us a new (again) perspective of grief.
I am grateful for the creativity of animators who create images that give birth to ideas, deeper meaning and understanding. It is a miraculous moment when a therapist gets to assist in those moments of clear understanding and deeper truths inside of us. That image, in my experience, has provided many with a way of understanding and explaining what the magnitude of grief can feel like for some. It is then, that we get to discuss the magnitude of hope, resilience, strength and hope. Sometimes, there are discussions about how Jesus calms the storm, thus settling the water, the size of grief and assists with processing past trauma and loss right beside us.
When it is hard to find helpful words, hope sometimes becomes clear in a picture. Sometimes that picture speaks a thousand words. I pray that your pictures are full of Jesus’s heart and the hope of him, always. I pray for purpose that feeds the creativity that we were born with. And if you are facing Ursula, (the current grief) and shipwrecks (past losses, dreams unrealized, or other past pain), you are not alone. Lean into your support system, reach out for help, know that the God of heaven and earth is with and for you…always.
Psalm 89:8-9
O Lord God of hosts, who is mighty as you are, O Lord, with your faithfulness all around you? 9 You rule the raging of the sea; when its waves rise, you still them.
both/and
xoxo
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For a recent movie night with my husband and kids, I chose E.T. My kids, somehow, had NEVER seen this classic all the way through. I am still a bit shocked by that fact, even though we have certainly remedied that error. But as I sat watching this movie that was fairly formative for me, I could feel my heart squeezing, tearing and soaring as if it was the first time watching this endearing, complex and ultimately familiar story of love and loss.
I hope this is not a spoiler, but the bond between Elliot and E.T. is both beautiful and heart-breaking. It speaks of love and connection to me every single time I’ve watched it – with humor, perseverance, hope and the painfulness of goodbye. While every bit of that moves me, the thing that sends my heart soaring is the swell of the music while the boys, ET and their bikes rise to the sky. It is their laughter, freedom and surprise that truly stirs me. And it is their laughter, freedom and joy that awakens again in my brain this many years since ET’s release in 1982. 42 years ago! What is it that keeps us connected to a person, memory or event that so moves us?
According to multiple sources, an average of 35,000 people visit Walt Disney World each day. Each. day of the year! Whether you are one of those or you are one who is determined to avoid Disney at all costs, there is something that spurs true Disney fans on to journey to Florida, California or other parks across the world, over and over again. There is pure delight for young and old as they board a Doom Buggy and hear the opening strains of Grim Grinning Ghosts. When Splash Mountain closed last January to make way for Tiana’s Bayou Adventure, hundreds packed the Magic Kingdom for one last ride, some waiting 3 hours in line or over 3 hours just to see the final run of the iconic ride.
Again, I wonder, what is it, that draws one person or another to have such an emotional connection to a place or event? The ones that are obvious are the weddings, baptisms, graduations and yes, funerals. But what about the things that are personal to us and us alone?
I can touch the triangles in the quilt I had made of my kids baby cloths and be transported to their baptisms, their days of little league, rec soccer, or even everyday events that are stored deep in my memory. That quilt is one of my favorite gifts to myself this past year. Rather than store all their old stuff in a bin in the storage room, I now can wrap myself in these moments and share the stories with them again and again. “Tell me about this one, Mom.” “Oh, I remember that one!” These moments flood me with the joy and love of family while the days seem to fly by.
Perhaps it is the strain of a song that brings you back to a place or time or like me, a movie that moves us to feel and remember.
I loved crooning Rainbow Connection and Top of the World in music class with Ms. Crawford in elementary music class.
When the bagpipes began at our wedding 20 years ago, it was a moment. We’ve heard from many of our loved ones what a beautiful moment that was…and yet, I am sure that not many, (other than our parents and ourselves) would know the name or even strains of the song. Yet, when it comes on because it is in one of my playlists, I am instantly transported back to standing in the back of the church, clutching my dad’s elbow and locking eyes with my love where he stood waiting for me.
I am nearly every Sunday, moved to tears as I worship. I feel something deep, deep down that almost cannot be described. Recently, our church did a four week series visiting the decades of the churches history, including the worship. Music has always been a big part of my relationship with Jesus. The Tree Song (anyone remember this one as well?), El-Shaddai and Awesome God bring me straight back to the wonder of my kid and pre-teen years. Hold Me Jesus, The Great Adventure and Ancient of Days recall my deepening relationship with Jesus while classic hymns and current offerings add to my of understanding worship and the love of Jesus through gifted musicians. I could almost make a timeline of my life based on certain worship songs and return to the time and place God was working in my heart – and I am stirred.
Even though I am NOT a lover of snow, I drew in a breath yesterday as I left the house, opened the garage and stood instantly in the middle of a snow globe. Huge, fast flakes covered our drive and lawn, untouched by dirt, other cars, footprints or anything. Daughter whispered, “even you, can’t be mad at that…” How right she was. Even when my muscles tense and my heart is grumpy because it too, is cold, I cannot deny being moved by the beauty, even briefly.
Maya Angelou said, “We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.”
Why is that? It is sheer wonder on both sides, the process and the result. What if we lived that way all the time – allowing ourselves to be moved, stirred and alive in both? Could we notice: The colors of the fall and how they got there? The joy of a Christmas bike ride and the mechanics of bodies that can? A warm cinnamon roll cookie made by my daughter. The conversation with a beloved friend, ending in a hug and deeper understanding, the way the horses gallop to the fence when I bike to Windmill, then gently let me pet their silky noses. Finally, the way I walk into physical therapy with a bit of anxiety, pain and frustration with my sore ankle and leave encouraged and grateful from the help of my wise physical therapist. I am moved by sunsets AND sunrise, embrace the pang of sadness because I finished a fantastic book. I am moved as I continue to learn and become a therapist, never losing the wonder at the trust of walking intense, beautiful journeys.
And the reason I am moved at all? Because the IMMOVABLE is so moved to love me at all. I sometimes imagine his glee in creating it all – giraffes, trees, tea, dogs, my loves. Hyacinths so fragrant that I can’t breath in enough, (lilacs too, for that matter,) being able to witness the success and accomplishments all around me. The deep belly laugh of my love when my daughter delivers a witty comment when least expected and the hug I get from my mom just when I need one. The perfect bite of lemon meringue pie that transports me to my Gram’s table, the tiniest sight of a rainbow in the middle of a blizzard….
Psalm 92: 1-2, 4-5 says,
1 It is good to praise the Lord and make music to your name, O Most High, 2 proclaiming your love in the morning and your faithfulness at night,
For you make me glad by your deeds, Lord; I sing for joy at what your hands have done. 5 How great are your works, Lord, how profound your thoughts!
I could go on and on in praise and thankfulness. But truly, I wonder, what moves you?
Perhaps it is grandkids, or your pet, your artwork or your favorite band. Perhaps it is a beautiful requiem or holding your loved ones favorite shirt after they’ve passed. I think the key is to allow ourselves to be moved at all. Do we take the time to notice all the things the CAN move us or do we miss it? No judgements, just thoughts….
I pray you find sheer delight and wonder in all the everyday ways in which God delights in you. I pray you KNOW, that you are knit together in such a way that you are INTENDED to be moved, over and over and over by your creator. And I pray that if you are struggling, the wonder and movement can be held with and for you until you can find it again for yourself.
“Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than we ask or imagine; according to his power that is at work within us.” Ephesians 3:20
Both/And
xoxo
https://stacymcneely.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Stacy2-1030x172.png00stacy@stacymcneely.comhttps://stacymcneely.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Stacy2-1030x172.pngstacy@stacymcneely.com2024-01-21 17:55:472024-01-21 17:55:47What is it that really moves you?
“Don’t let go of your rail.” I encouraged last week during a counseling session, to a person who has been enduring emotional abuse for the last 10 years. They have been working so hard on boundaries and I am so proud. As my day wound down, the memories and years I have been giving that phrase to brave clients played like a soundtrack in my head. It was no surprise to me that a smile pulled at my lips and my brain found the very first time I myself was told the exact same thing….
I was in my 20’s when I began the self care practice of getting deep tissue massages. I had/have a complicated relationship with this body, as I believe we all do. I was a young woman, introverted and not yet aware of how to care of these muscles who endure so much. Cerebral Palsy was confusing by itself, but learning how to care for and love a body that was hard for me to trust was…well, let’s just say that I am still and probably will always be learning about that in some ways. I am both much further than I was and not yet where I want to be.
I can’t remember how I came upon Suzy. It took many months, but my body and my heart would eventually trust this massage therapist who is kind and knowledgeable. She was for quite some time, a very safe person to open up to while she helped me learn what I needed with this disability AND this body. Suzy became more than my massage therapist, she was a teacher in many ways, as well as a friend, insightful and caring. While she was loosening my muscles, she also helped loosen my fears, insecurities and walls.
During one such appointment, I lay on a massage table while Suzy rolled my calf muscles, a vulnerability it had taken me a long time to brave…she would press so hard on the bottoms of my feet, which to me, is heavenly! Much of my spasticity originates in my feet, I have learned. She was a bit in awe that I wasn’t screaming in pain as she worked hard to get my muscles to release some of the tension that it does not realize it is gripping so tightly.
“I have made burly quarterbacks cry with much less pressure than this.” She quipped as I lay facedown on her massage table. I remember feeling simultaneously sad for said quarterback AND feeling very strong in that moment. Later I would say to myself, “how badass am I, if football players cry about this and I DON’T!”
That day, I was telling her about a concert I had attended a few nights before with a friend. The arena near our home is big and crowds have always been anxiety-provoking because of my balance. I tense up, fear getting bumped, falling and/or getting trampled. I explained how when I go down a set of stairs, I hold the rail tightly to keep myself upright and as safe as possible.
Inevitably though, someone will come up the stairs, (against the down-going flow) in the same spot that I am trying to go down, both of us holding tight to that rail. At that time, I firmly believed that I was required to get out of someone’s way if they came up to me that way. I erroneously believed that I was doing the better thing by letting go so they could pass, even though I would tense up and get very scared on that step until I could grab ahold again, clinging tighter still with a now clanging heartbeat. Perhaps this was VERY ingrained, “put others before yourself,” or people-pleasing because I thought that I had to be extra nice to everyone to make up for needing extra help sometimes. Either way, as I described it to Suzy, her eyes grew wide.
“You know that is not safe for you, right?” She had a stare that seemed to go right through me. And to be honest with you, I had never considered that. Now was my turn to blink and replay the events from a few nights before, including how I had handled those arena stairs.
“Huh…” I murmured, wondering for the first time in my life why I was indeed, getting out of someone else’s way when they were going the wrong direction and when it was more than necessary for me to hold on….
“Don’t you NEED the rail?” She asked, gently, working hard on my feet and toes, which I was noticing had become tighter and more contracted as she asked her questions.
Out of nowhere, tears filled my eyes and my nose filled up in mere seconds. I did. I could not get down any flight of stairs without that assistance.
A surprising silent wail threatened to rise from the toes that were painfully clinching to keep it deep down. She must have known…but she silently let me hold that wail, a soundless sob that shook my whole body. It was THEN, that I began to understand AND acknowledge how terrifying it was, to try to move and get out of someone’s way on those steps as I felt obligated to let go of those railings….
THAT was the day that I truly began to understand the connection between emotions and bodies. My own body was a living, moving example, (which to my chagrin at this moment,) that I could not control.
Suzy gently finished kneading the muscles in my feet, then walked softly to touch my shoulder. I was grateful to be laying facedown; snot running out of my nose. At least I didn’t have to look in her kind eyes. If I had, the sob would’ve burst forth and I undoubtedly would’ve been more undone…
“It’s ok for you to hold on and make them move,” she said and this was an entirely new revelation to me.
“It is???” I asked, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice.
“Absolutely! You didn’t know that either, did you? ” She asked gently. Now she was surprised.
“I guess not,” I said. “I just never wanted to make things hard for anyone else.”
Suzy gave me an intense look that I could feel rather than see, then silently swept out the room so I could get dressed. When I came out a few minutes later, I walked to the desk. She surprised me again when she gave me a hug, telling me softly, “You don’t make things harder for anyone. Don’t let go of your rail. You have every right to need it and hold on.” Tears filled my eyes again, the tears of being seen, known and cared for. I thanked her and pondered railings, staircases and acceptance for many days following that massage.
A few weeks after that massage, I stood at the top of the stairs somewhere, pausing before I told my feet to step down, then another and another.
Suddenly, about 1/3 of the way down, a man darted up in the wrong direction and was face-to-face with me at that railing. My heart raced, I began to gear up to let go, but the sound of Suzy’s voice in my head gave me a second to pause. “Don’t let go of your railing…”
I held tight, tried to reassure myself that I was “not inconveniencing anyone,” and waited.
The man in front of me looked around quickly, then moved around me with ease.
I nearly burst into tears…change was happening….I had gotten out of the way for so many, so many times, that this change was a relief and in those early days of changing my own beliefs, felt both exhilarating and exhausting.
It has been nearly 25 years since that conversation with Suzy. Yet, as I write, I can remember every moment, how God himself began working in my head, heart and muscles because of those moments. Over the course of that time, I have held the rail SO many times. In fact, I don’t think I have let go since. That doesn’t mean is always easy to put myself first.
Just a few days ago, I began descending the stairs of a local high school after a dizzying week of swim meets, birthday (for my newly adult daughter) and all of life in between. I was tired, happy and as always, a bit awestruck at my teens’ (and their friends) incredible physical abilities in the pool.
As I gripped the railing and began instructing my leg muscles, (“step down, pause, gather your balance. Ok, step again…pause, repeat…”) a little girl darted up the stairs, running so fast right into my projected path. My heart began hammering and my inner dialogue changed gears, “hold on, just wait. Stop, you don’t have to move.” I held too tight, so tight my fingers throbbed, but Suzy’s voice came back even though I have not seen her in MANY years: “Don’t let go of your railing.”
Suzy’s voice, presence and how God used her in that one day: the last five-ten minutes of a massage has multiplied more times than I can count. “Don’t let go of your rail,” has become such a normal phrase for me personally, and also professionally.
Sometimes, “don’t let go of your rail” applies to family dynamics, boundaries, self worth and communication. Other times it applies to stating our needs, wants and emotions. Still others, “hold on to rail” can become a symbol for an anchor in a storm, grief, major life change or unexpected illness. There have been countless times where I have drawn on this phrase as a metaphor or physical reminder.
Personally, it is a whispered phrase of safety and self worth when someone stares a bit too long; a reminder to when my former soundtracks begin to blare: “I am a burden” “People are staring.” It is a phrase of comfort when I hear comments like, “what’s wrong with her feet, mom?” overheard in a store. At 50, all of these bother me less and less often than when I was younger, but occasionally, we ALL need the reminder, don’t we? The reminder to take care of ourselves, to let others’ opinions float away, to claim our own space, to hold tight to Him who IS the very best stability and anchor. To lean on the those who are dependable, even when we feel we’re going to fall…
Do you have a phrase, a mantra or reminder that you say to yourself when things feel hard? Maybe it is a role model that you emulate, one who feels placed in your path or vision for such a time as this…
Along with phrases and nearly every famous Mr. Rogers quote, there are many who inspire me, too many to name or count. One is Alecia Beth Moore Hart. Maybe you know her too, better by the name, Pink. Her journey is well-documented, from rough and badass, loud and rebellious to awe-inspiring performer and everything in between. She is an advocate for therapy, doing our own work, both individually and and family. Pink is unapologetic, she swears, she loves, she accepts and she bites back at fans who criticize and belittle. She is driven, seemingly fearless and athletic. AND she is a mama, wife and musician. She is a role-model in “holding her rail.”
I began following her music after seeing her perform an aerial silk routine on the Grammy awards in 2010 which left me completely thunderstruck. Her physical abilities and performance left me jealous and mesmerized. Since, I have listened to her music, followed her career and at times smiled at her attitude while turning the music down in the car so the kids wouldn’t pick up on ALL the words. Attending one of her shows is certainly on my bucket list. Recently, she did an interview on 60 minutes.
“These muscles that scare people? These muscles are my power…I eat well to go far, fast and hard.” -Pink
I sat watching, trying to understand how anyone could be scared of her muscles! Then I thought, “that is how you hold your rail….”
I had been scared of my own muscles, to trust and depend on them. I But as I listened to Pink, I resonated with this quote, negative beliefs and power in and throughout the journey. These muscles ARE my power…
What had begun for me with Suzy was God-breathed, his own reminder of being with me. He used Suzy; through that one conversation, she showed me how to reclaim my power AND hold my rail. I hold on, I show up for myself and I do my work to go far, especially with CP.
Today, I encourage and challenge you to “hold your own rail,” own your presence and look to the one who will never leave you to go it alone. Maybe it IS through hard interactions this holiday season, losses or grief that threatens to swallow you. Maybe it is finally allowing yourself to see your own good, hold your own needs or share your truth. Perhaps holding your rail is seeing the Savior with fresh eyes this Christmas.
I am thankful for every bit of it, even the scary moments when I let go and wasn’t sure why. That makes the times I’ve held on and helped others hold on also, that much sweeter. I thankful for the big and small encounters, the role models (some of whom we may never physically met) and the growth and confidence God bestows over the course of time. I am thankful for Suzy, Pink and those who I get to walk with. I pray you are kind to yourself, giving grace and mercy, especially to yourself. And I pray that you can hold on to your rail, because it is so worth it.
I wish you both a Blessed Christmas and a brave New Year
Hebrews 13:5
Both/And
Not my rail, but a reminder of strong and steadfast support….Not my personal railing either, but oh my, is this one beautiful!The “Pink” doll my daughter created for me. I love the visual reminder!
https://stacymcneely.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Stacy2-1030x172.png00stacy@stacymcneely.comhttps://stacymcneely.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Stacy2-1030x172.pngstacy@stacymcneely.com2023-12-19 17:07:072023-12-19 17:07:07Holding my rail…
Have you ever had a someday? What I mean is, have you ever said to yourself, “someday, I will be ready for that role. Someday, I will pursue that dream or be prepared enough to take on that challenge. Someday, my _______ will be right, and then I will be happy. Someday, when I meet______ I will be happy (or get into the right college, live in the right city, etc.)” Can you relate?
October 16 is the realization of my own “someday,” one that continues to become more and more a part of my present and my future, but realized, because of my past. It is both the continued work of my own and that of helping others with theirs. And it is a visible portion of my path that feels like it has been influenced by so many: family, friends, mentors, pastors, professors, friends, therapists and in a very real and tangible way, the stories from clients and their very bravery that has influenced my path to someday most of all.
There were many, many poignant moments in my relationship with Jesus, but the path, the day Jesus whispered to me in Graves Hall, the first day in a social work class with Dr. Jim Piers, that THIS was his plan for me. I wasn’t at all sure what it meant, but I knew HE led me to THIS. I graduated from Hope with my B.A. in social work, ready (and not ready) to care for others, one of the very few things that felt natural to me. I applied a few different jobs, but it was the one in a grassroots relational ministry with teens that changed me for good. In the seven years of ministry, I had co-workers who taught me more than I had learned in some classes, met many unforgettable families, brave students and learned about trauma in ways that only God could understand and redeem.
I had, at the encouragement of a dear friend, applied to graduate school in the Spring, 2000. I was shocked when I received a quick acceptance, having struggled for as long as I could remember with my own value and confidence. Another dear friend was killed the week after I began, putting me on a path of learning so much about grief, trauma and perseverance.
The 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Center happened almost one year later, the same day I began my first internship at our local Hospice organization. Our small and mighty teen ministry suffered the same as many non-profits that year. Our fearless fund – raiser, Prett, believed with 100% of his being, what our ministry was doing: loving and supporting kids in this community in the name of Jesus. But with the state of the world in 2001 and Prett’s declining health, God began to bring the season of ministry in my life to a close. And as much as I could not understand it then, the path led to a deep love and respect for counseling, (that I didn’t know yet) a life-changing supervisor and further experiences with such beautiful patients that it still touches my heart.
Then there was a plan for a 2nd internship that somehow seemed to be what I wanted, what I said I wanted, but did not FEEL right. 3 weeks before I was to begin, our little ministry closed for good. I needed a part-time job in which to survive while I finished this last year of grad school. I got a call from a friend, saying that her supervisor in a local counseling center wanted to interview me…
As only God could, my life changed in that one afternoon, a whole different path, one that had been whispering so quietly that I hadn’t even been aware of it. I began that fall with an internship and a JOB in that counseling center, scared, fulfilled and RIGHT. I had informed the first placement of the sudden change. As I turned toward this counseling path, I knew God was indeed, behind, beside and before me. I knew both that HE was leading, even though my confidence suffered a deep wounds from another professional who made me an impending job offer, then denied the promises of “hiring me when I finished grad school,” as graduation loomed. The mixed messages from a respected person in the counseling field sent me reeling into self doubt and insecurity.
God paved and redeemed my path with supervisors who helped me re-learn trust myself clinically, co-workers who became the dearest of friends, skills that I still, many years later, still rely on daily. I met my husband that year, and two months after my graduation, I married him – the easiest yes I’ve ever said. At that, I began marriage AND a counseling career, a life that felt nearly too good to be true. I loved who I was becoming as a clinician and I stayed there for the next 8 years, during the birth of our first daughter, and close to giving birth to our son. I had worked primarily with court-ordered clients, some of the hardest work I’ve ever done. I learned some unhealthy patterns, witnessed those who were unaware and unhealthy as well.
I had logged all my hours for licensure, passed my test and was finally hoping to see clients who came by choice. It was a long wait. I was tired, very pregnant and ready to spend time with our precious kids. I was home with our 2 year old and infant, happily enjoying motherhood when my dear supervisor from Hospice called. I went back for the next 3 1/2 years, until I came pregnant with our youngest daughter. I was again home with our babes, happier than ever. Our oldest went to kindergarten that year and the time I was home with them was worth EVERYTHING to me.
And yet, that deep desire, the deep longing to help and counsel remained an ember for me….
Over the summer of 2013, I encountered an acquaintance who was suddenly thrust into grief and tragedy. I heard God so gently remind me to return to counseling, to help and trust. I just needed a place…
I returned to the same organization and spent the next two years growing, through both positive and negative experiences, again, cultivating my skills as a therapist. I had been doing my own work for the last few years, a firm believer that a therapist can only go with clients as far as their able to become aware of themselves. And as I sat in her office one day, we talked about “my someday – my hope and desire to be in private practice.” She gently asked, “when is that?”
“I need to know more,” I said, not really knowing what that meant.
Over the next few weeks and months, she asked gentle, yet pointed questions about “someday,” and helped me understand that someday could be now. I had so many questions, hopes and wonder. Could I, really?
And then, on October 16, 2015, I welcomed my first client in my private practice. It was the most wonderful, natural moment for me, the someday that was indeed, now.
8 years later, I am humbled, blessed and have learned more from clients than I believe I teach them. I am grateful for this career with each and every hour that I spend, hearing stories, difficult and heart-wrenching tragedy, trauma and the joy of growth and change.
“I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not harm you; plans for hope and a future.” Jerimiah 29:11
Thank you, my Jesus, for knowing every single step of my and all of our pathways. Thank you for never giving up. I would not be anywhere without you or your sovereignty. Your truth and provision, the fact that NOTHING is random to you. Your intentionality, all – giving for our good.
Thank you to clients and those who have trusted me with your precious truths – referring friends and loved ones so that I may witness so many journeys. I am nothing but thankful and pray that this someday is now for many years to come.
Both/And
Jeremiah 29:11
xoxo
https://stacymcneely.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Stacy2-1030x172.png00Stacyhttps://stacymcneely.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Stacy2-1030x172.pngStacy2023-10-19 15:00:502023-10-19 15:00:50October 16 or “someday.”
Laughter ensued from my friends. I was thankful that the movie theater we sat in was dark and they could not see my quickly heated, tomato red cheeks. Even though I knew in THEIR minds, this was “just teasing,” I HATED how my body was “tense and jumpy” when there was a loud bang, scream, crash or any other surprise reason that my body would startle. I HATED IT…the lack of control I felt, how my body seemed so much more reactive than ANYONE else I knew and how in high school, this became such a point of teasing, so much more than I had experienced in middle and elementary school.
I began to feel immense shame and embarrassment about a part of myself that I did not know at all was a normal part of having cerebral palsy. I was hard on myself for not managing the “jumping,” reactivity, hard on myself when friends began to startle me on purpose because I couldn’t just “have fun with it.” It hurt. Beyond that, however, I just didn’t understand my own body mechanics that were so out of my control.
I don’t think I knew how to even talk about that, the embarrassment at people’s comments, how I would hope that movies did not have jump scares, or the tension I felt when music indicated something was coming. I don’t think I asked my parents how to help because I just wanted it to all go away and assumed it was just a “me thing.”
I have said many times over the course of my life, that I just did not SEE others like me. Cerebral palsy affects more than 17,000,000 people world wide, is the most common lifelong disability and no two people with cerebral palsy are alike. (From the Cerebral Palsy Foundation). For these and many other reasons, it is exceedingly difficult to process and understand the unique challenges that each of us with CP face, individually and collectively. Another contributing factor to that complexity is the reality that as kids with cerebral palsy age, services and support are less and it is even harder find connection to others who are similar. My physiatrist (Dr. Rush, Grand River Rehab) told me this week that he normally refers adults with CP out of state for orthopedic work, such as knee or hip replacement because of the innovations being done in places other than here. I don’t say that to throw shade at Michigan, but rather, it is a statement on the lack of resources and connections here, in my home state as an adult.
I have been allowed an incredible journey of awareness, understanding and self acceptance. Therapy, a support system like none other and first and foremost, a path that I can see was nothing less than God’s presence and provision have all provided some chosen, some mandated processing and accepting both my own worth and limitations. As I have aged and social media has emerged and evolved, I have experienced many people who bravely share themselves, challenges and their victories through various accounts and stories. Especially in the last few years, I sense understanding and comradery as my feeds include more and more brave CP warriors.
There is Colbie, whose friends and family regularly celebrates her strength and achievements, defying expectations. There is sweet Peter, who consistently defies the odds, smiles and communicates though he is non-verbal. There is Stephanie, an authentic woman, fitness professional, and advocate. She regularly discusses her needs, her frustrations and even depression related to CP, as well as her tremendous, spirit. Rachel is both fearless in sharing the realities of being an adult with cerebral palsy, unabashedly displaying the challenges and the normalcy she experiences, hourly. Joseph regularly shares his own fitness and life journey and again, the nuances of what it means to engage the world as a healthy person with CP. It was in watching a TiKToK of his, that I again had another a-ha moment: He described, “walking across the room carrying his cup of coffee with CP for the first time without spilling it. I have battled my own “sloppiness,” for years, thinking again, that it was only me, that could not carry my tea without spilling it on my shirt, the floor or both. It was bittersweet to watch Joseph because of the struggle AND the validation.
There are many others…this tribe of warriors, including their families. I would also include my own. Having lived with cerebral palsy for my half century of years, I am so proud. I am proud of us, those who did not ask for this set of circumstances and who show grit, “normalcy” and inclusion. I am amazed by rockstar support systems, and continually improving adaption options. I am thankful that though the world, globally, has a long way to go in regards to valuing ALL life and experience, we’ve also all come SO FAR.
Did you know that an athlete who was born with CP WON (yes, you read that right…) WON American Ninja Warrior this season? (Sorry for anyone that watches…I am just so excited that I added this spoiler in!) https://youtu.be/zb6rgRFI3Jg?si=MSWSsRmjnlE7AdrP
Yesterday, I was scrolling a bit while drinking my tea. The Cerebral Palsy Foundation regularly posts fantastic content that is informative for both those with and those without CP. But as I scrolled, my eyes fell on a graphic they’d posted just a few hours earlier that was another big moment for me. (See below).
It stunned me for a minute because though I have learned over time about my own startle reflex, that same one I took a lot of grief for in middle, high school and even currently sometimes, this was new to me. I know how to deflect it or give a quick comeback to whomever is teasing. But still, STILL…after all this time that I’ve lived with CP, I hadn’t thought about others’ startle reflex. Granted, I still don’t see “ALOT of OTHERS” with CP around me, but still…it hadn’t occurred to me. We ALL startle easily and have not control over it.
I felt newly informed as I scrolled, but more importantly, I felt so cared for, along with the other warriors around me. I felt advocated for as this graphic was informing US on a global scale, “be aware of people around you with CP AND, know that the STARTLE is a normal thing.” Absolutely, the most wonderful blessing!
There are many times that my “normal with CP” requires much thought and planning to do seemingly “normal” things that the average person without CP may not have to think twice about. One of the pools in our conference does not have railings to get up to the bleachers. It is impossible for me to make that climb solo without the rail. Other times, the parking lot, even handicapped spots are miles away from an entrance and even further from our actual destination at events. It is tiring sometimes to explain my particular challenges or needs and sometimes easier just to suck it up and manage a situation at a significant cost to my comfort or needs because honestly, I could be explaining things all. day. long. This got me thinking about how others might experience this as well….
My friend Aria told me recently how “people don’t always know how someone with kidney disease has to monitor their water intake.” In her words, “I couldn’t even freely drink water when I was I was thirsty during dialysis. Too much could really hurt or even potentially kill me. I couldn’t take showers without much physical and emotional exhaustion because I had to be so careful with my catheter. If I got it wet and water got in my bloodstream, it could have also been dangerous for me.” It is in her brave sharing that I value my ability to drink water, not take mundane things for granted, like showering. (Yes, I did share this story with a few teens I know who don’t always value of, ahem…TAKING a shower.)
I wonder…is there anything you would share about a particular battle that most people wouldn’t be aware of? I am so grateful for awareness and though there are difficulties with how we treat each other in the world sometimes, there is also so much that is good, possible and beautiful.
The graphic felt so holy to me and here is why: everyone you or I encounter isfighting some kind of battle. That is not a cliché,’ but instead, an absolute truth. The more we can become aware of each of each other, the more we value how God has created us each individually, the gifts and the challenges this side of heaven. I think we all want to be seen, represented and seek connection with people who get us. Look at this video. If this doesn’t prove how meaningful it is to see and experience someone we can relate to in our own joys and challenges, I am not sure what does. https://fb.watch/nxg7wgDlNn/?mibextid=v7YzmG
Yesterday was World CP day, October 6. I celebrate each and every warrior who lives with CP. If I had the ability, I would make a DAY to honor each and every struggle around the world. I am in awe of each, and every one of us, challenging, battling and victorious related to whatever our struggles are. And on this and every other day, may awareness, celebration and love lead the way to acceptance, value and seeing one another as God himself does: made in HIS magnificent image.
Both/And
Psalm 139
xoxo
https://stacymcneely.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Stacy2-1030x172.png00Stacyhttps://stacymcneely.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Stacy2-1030x172.pngStacy2023-10-05 13:52:522023-10-05 13:52:52Startle reflex, PSA’s and awareness.
