Long story short, after confirming that I do indeed use my left elbow (bro, wut?), they put said elbow back where it belonged and I’ve had a steel plate and seven screws in that arm holding me together.

At one of my follow-up visits shortly after, the nurse checking my vitals timidly asked, “Is it ok if I ask what happened?” My broken arm fresh in my mind, I said, “I fell down two stairs onto the sidewalk.” “OH MY GOD!!!!” she literally yelled. “I thought maybe you got dragged behind a car or something!” It was then that I realized she thought I lost my arm from falling down two stairs. And to this day I’m still somewhat impressed that her first thought was that I was dragged behind a car, leading to amputation. Impressive imagination.

I’m retelling this story because I’m having knee surgery tomorrow and while I’m looking forward to getting it done, I know it will have longterm effects. I’m not unfamiliar with surgery, but the circumstances are quite different. When I broke my arm, I was 30. I’m now almost 49. After they put my short arm back together, the one thing that made me start to panic was whether or not I’d still be able to play piano. That is not my main worry this go round.

The last month has been really hard, honestly. I’ve been trying to be good about taking care of my knee, but not going to Burn every day has really thrown me for a loop. I’m having a hard time focusing, I’m not eating very well, I’m not exercising or stretching at home as much as I should be, I miss my friends… Dang, I miss my friends. And yes, I can go and modify and that’s good, but it isn’t the same as sweating your a** off and dying on the floor with your friends. It just isn’t. That’s what I miss and…

That’s the unknown right now. Even after this meniscectomy, what will things look like? Given that I apparently tore my ACL like four years ago and just…kept going…even though it’s technically “healed,” it’s still not great. So, what will I be able to do? How can I focus on what I can do and not on what I can’t/shouldn’t?

At one of my visits to urgent care, I told the doctor, “I’m the oldest I’ve ever been and I’m in the best shape of my life. That’s what makes things so hard…” “Holy sh**, can I use that? That’s good,” he said back. I’ve always been competitive with others and with myself. When I’m on that floating floor, I push myself because I can…in my head. So, when I see that blue hurdle and think, “I can hop over that. Easy,” and the next thought is, “But I shouldn’t,” it kills me. On the last run that finally ripped my stupid meniscus in half, I said at the end, “We kickin’ it in or what?” I did and then I let up too quickly at the end or something and SNAP. Sigh.

That’s going to be the biggest challenge for me. Adjusting my mindset from “All gas, no brakes” to…what? Being careful? No cutting? No jumping? That sounds horrible. I’ll figure it out, I’m just sharing what I know is hardest for me. Not only accepting reality, but embracing it. Ultimately, I know things will be good. Hell, for over two years I’ve been killing it with one hand, a bad ACL and a gradually tearing meniscus. LOL I can do this. And it’s been so helpful to have so many friends say, “I’ve had that done and you’ll be good!” At this point I kind of wonder who hasn’t had knee surgery at Burn!

Switching gears a bit…

(TW: suicide)

This feels like a stretch, but in the interest of being transparent and maybe helping somebody else… because of all this, I’ve been thinking about my dad recently. He had an aortic dissection in July 2014, had successful surgery to repair his heart, said “gettin’ a little better every day” whenever you asked him how he was doing, then ended his life in November. When someone dies by S, you can’t talk to them and ask them why, but I believe one major factor for my dad was that his identity was shaken and he could never quite come to terms with what that meant. He was always strong and athletic and active…and in his mind, none of that could be true anymore. I remember he was always the grandpa who would be on the floor with my kids, giving pony rides and after his surgery, he just seemed…nervous. And on edge. He wasn’t sure what he was allowed to do. And he didn’t want to be a burden on anyone, including those he’d have to ask for insight. He took care of you, not the other way around. Hell, when the ambulance came for him in July he answered the door. “Cal, aren’t we here for you?” “Yeah yeah. And leave the lights and sirens off when you take me to the hospital,” he told them. Thankfully they informed him that’s not something he got to decide, much to his annoyance, I’m sure.

And to be very very clear, I’m not having any of those kinds of thoughts about this. But, I think it feels like a bigger deal because of the identity part. Who am I if I can’t…? How will I connect with my friends if…? Theoretically I know the answers to these questions. And actually, I’m trying to view it as a positive that I’m having to dig into this identity stuff because I know it will be good for me going forward. That doesn’t make it easy, though.

I also find it interesting that literally a year ago, I had a mental and physical breakdown that kept me horizontal for days, which is the position I’ll be in again starting tomorrow. This time, though, it’s intentional. And I’m grateful for all of the family and friends in my life who have been checking on me and wishing me good luck and a speedy recovery. You all mean more to me than you could ever know.

And there they are…the tears. It was only a matter of time. 🤣 Whenever I’m reminded of all the amazing, supportive, inspiring people that I get to call friends…good gravy. I’m a lucky guy. Love you guys.

So, all that said, if you think of it at about 2:45pm tomorrow, throw up a prayer or a positive thought for me! And I’ll keep you posted on how it goes. Thanks, friends!

At the beginning of this year I set an intention of finding a local therapist to meet with regularly to help me through some difficult stuff. Stuff I’ve been putting off. Having worked in the health insurance field for twenty years, I know how difficult it is to find and schedule a good therapist. Well, thanks to a friend, I’m already on visit number five (six tomorrow?) with my therapist and it’s…going. lol

Let me explain.

“I love therapy,” I tell people. And I do. Becoming a therapist myself is still on the table, in fact. But the work I’m doing now…my chest is tightening even as I write this. The image that’s been resonating with me is that I’ve been holding a door shut for decades and just saying, “Yeah, I’m good!” and it’s time to open the door and deal with what’s behind it…but it turns out, there’s a reason I’ve spent so much energy all this time holding it shut. Weird, right?

And then there’s the fact that I’m 48 and I’m just now learning all these things about myself, about why I do things the way I do, why I act certain ways…and that’s great, but it also comes with a not-so-small amount of embarrassment and regret and grief and sadness and anger and… And then it’s reminding myself that this is good. That I can’t change the past. That growth and healing and choosing to do this is strong. But then the knowing gets in my head and I start to question if I’m doing everything right and inevitably believe that I’m not and sometimes fall into old patterns that unintentionally hurt those close to me, but now I’m seeing it and I have to just own it and learn from it and that sucks, but I guess it’s good, ultimately…

And truthfully, it’s exhausting.

I completely understand why the vast majority just keep the door shut.

Some days it feels like I’m going backwards. Like things are worse. One of my goals when I started with my therapist was to “be able to sit with joy and happiness more often and for longer stretches” and there have been times where I’m like, yo, this ain’t it. This is the opposite of it. lol

But here’s what I keep reminding myself…this is not a quick fix.

There are a lot of analogies, but there are two that make a lot of sense to me. The first is that this process is a lot like getting physically healthy. In January of 2024 I was maybe the most out of shape I’d ever been. I didn’t get fit in a week. I started slowly and worked hard for a long time. And…oh sh*t…*starts to cry*…thinking back, the start was riddled with setbacks. I got hurt and sick numerous times because I tried to do too much too fast. Patience is not one of my strong suits. Which leads to my next analogy…

When we learn something new, it takes time to get good at it. Again, I’d give this wisdom to anybody…but I’m terrible at remembering it myself. I still have a cassette from when I was maybe four years old where I was trying to play Mary Had A Little Lamb on my rainbow colored Fisher-Price xylophone and I hit the wrong note just enough times to result in hearing a yell and a crash from me throwing the toy across the room in frustration. You can hear my mom try to comfort me saying, “Ryan, you’re not giving yourself a chance!” as I yell back, “YES I AM!” and then she says, “You practice it once or twice and expect yourself to know it; it takes a long time to learn something new.” I don’t respond after that. It’s heartbreaking. Sigh.

I’ve carried this pressure for a long time. This pressure to get things right. Immediately. And if I screw it up, there’s a panic until I’m able to fix it. But…what if I can’t fix it? Well, that’s just life! And that’s what I’m learning as a 48 year old and…see what I wrote about that above. lol

So, here’s my encouragement…to you and to me: Wherever you’re at in this process, you’re doing great. Don’t give up. It’s not easy and it’ll likely get even more difficult, but it’s worth it. For you. For little you. For the people you care about. For the people who care about you. You might feel weak, embarrassed, stupid, foolish, inept, incompetent, sad, angry, tired…that’s all normal. I’d ask you explore feeling strong and proud and smart and competent, too. This can be a both/and situation.

Sometimes I imagine myself getting into a boxing ring with Mike Tyson when I’m doing this work, just getting ass handed to me. Nobody can be in that ring with me, I have to be in there alone, but the people who support me are cheering me on in my corner and they’re there when I need a break between rounds. They give me water, they wipe my forehead, they tend my wounds, they rub my shoulders, they speak words of life to me…and then I go back in. This image always makes me cry. Because that support is everything.

I’ll end with this because I don’t have the right words to explain what it means to me yet, but my friend showed me how to create this picture where you’re hugging your younger self and… so much of this is for this little guy. Be brave, friends. I know you are.

I’m so grateful for friends like Sara.

In fact, as I scrolled through my pictures from the last year this morning, that sentiment welled-up and streamed down my cheeks as image after image passed by reminding me of how lucky I am to have so many truly good people in my life.

Every amazing opportunity and experience I had this year - meeting and gifting Gov Evers and his wife a copy of Different Is Awesome!, ten school visits, multiple Brewer games, two Guys Weekends, two Burn Kids Camps, several corporate speaking opportunities, giving the VASD Convocation keynote, and so many more - happened with/and/or because of friends. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I’m also reminded that I experienced a complete breakdown in August. Mentally, physically, I was done. I’m having a hard time putting words to how foreign that experience feels to me now, but I remember how devastated and hopeless I felt at the time and I’m eternally grateful for the friends and family who pulled me through it.

I don’t know what 2026 is going to look like, but I still have a lot to learn and so much I want to accomplish. Honestly, it feels like I might be wading into some uncharted territory and while I’m ready to work my ass off, I’ll likely need to lean on y’all again.

My head’s screaming at me not to write that. My heart is pleading with me to be brave, though, so I’m leaving it.

Love you guys. Here’s to being brave this year.

Together.

On Saturday, August 2nd, before I drove to Dubuque, IA to do a kids camp at the Burn Boot Camp that my friends own, I stopped at Starbucks to do a little journaling. This is how that entry began…

The kids camp was amazing. So much fun. Then that afternoon I went to a friend’s retirement party. That night I didn’t sleep well. Sunday I helped setup for church, the same as every week, and then that afternoon around 3pm, not feeling very well, I fell asleep.

I didn’t wake up until almost 8am the next morning.

I couldn’t tell you the last time I slept that long. It’s been decades.

When I awoke, I didn’t feel refreshed. I felt worse. Not sick…but, complete exhaustion, unlike I’ve ever felt before. Mentally and physically, I was done.

The decision had been made for me. I needed to stop. Everything.

I poured out all of the mental baggage I could to Julie, who was so gracious and comforting, and we agreed I’d take a couple days to just do nothing and recover. Refocus. Reset. Historically, that always seemed to get me back on track.

It didn’t work this time.

I spent the next four days laying down, sleeping, no appetite, unable to focus when I was awake, frustrated because I couldn’t shake the exhaustion and, honestly, scared. I felt so hopeless. At one point I told Julie, “I know intellectually that I’ll get through this…but, right now, I can’t fathom it. And that’s terrifying.”

I even took a selfie at one point, inspired by my daughter Claire. After my dad passed and we had the heart-wrenching conversation with our kids about it, little Claire, barely seven years old, asked her mom to take a picture of her and I. “I want to remember when I was really sad and that God made me happy again,” she told us when we asked why.

I still cry every time I remember that moment. Such a powerful reminder for me and when I was feeling like nothing would ever get better during that week earlier this month, I remembered the truth that it would. Somehow, some way.

And, thank God, it has.

Here’s what I’ve learned:

I’m still learning how to deal with disappointment in a healthy way. I hate disappointing others and myself. And if I’m not careful, that can lead to complete mental and physical shutdown.

The issue is that I have very high standards for myself, which is good, but when I don’t reach my goals for whatever reason, the disappointment becomes all-encompassing. And my fear of disappointing others often leads to overextending myself. And what sucks about that is that I want to support all my friends and do cool things all the time, but even that can become overwhelming, which is also disappointing. GAH!

I was explaining to my friend BrianJames how disappointing it is that I’m often unable to enjoy even the good things in my life - and there are so many! - because everything just gets mixed up in the disappointment overload and he said, “Yeah, I mean, in order to enjoy amazing food, you can’t just eat and eat and eat…you have to sh*t sometimes.” I told him to tell me more. “If we just eat and eat and eat, even if the food is gourmet, we’re going to get sick. We’ll get constipated, maybe diarrhea, whatever…it won’t be good. In order to really enjoy it, we need to make space. We need to digest, let it pass and then eat the next delicious meal.”

Well, damn. How am I supposed to do that if I’m constantly going going going?

“You’re going to need to disappoint some people,” he said.

The way my chest tightened when he said that…

He actually suggested that I start a Disappointment Journal. Perhaps the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard. Again, I told him to tell me more.

“The goal here is to normalize disappointment. Because it is normal. It’s not easy, but if we’re able to see that it’s something we can acknowledge, grieve/lament what we need to, and then move forward, the overwhelm can become less and less. In fact, I kind of want you to intentionally cancel plans you’ve already made, just to practice. Not just saying no to something you’re invited to, but saying no to something you have already said yes to. Because you’ll be alright. You’ll see.”

I’d pay good money to have seen my face while he was explaining all of this.

So, here we are…I’m practicing dealing with disappointment in a healthy way. I’m being more mindful of what I’m committing to. I’m connecting to and being honest with my friends because my default is to try and do/fix everything myself because I don’t want to be a burden on anyone…which never ends well. I’m working on “sh*tting” so I can truly enjoy all of the amazing things in my life. And there are so many. Just since this episode a few weeks ago, I was a special guest at an event for families affected by limb-difference, attended an amazing fundraiser my friend organized, went to a birthday party for a good friend, threw darts with the boys, went to the Brewers game honoring Bob Uecker with my wife and gave the keynote address at the Verona Area School District’s All-Staff Convocation, an immensely personal honor for me.

But life is life and during that same time, my daughter went back to school in Chicago, several family members had emergency health situations, work has continued to be stressful… And then there’s all the normal stuff, like paying bills and making appointments and connecting with Julie and the kids and on and on and on…

All that to say, life is a lot. It’s full of good and hard things. I’m so grateful for professionals to help me process and learn and amazing friends to lean on when things get hard, but also with whom to really enjoy this one life I have!

I’ve had several people tell me, “I never would have know this if you didn’t say something. You’re always doing cool things and you’re always smiling and positive…” And I can honestly say, when I share the cool things I’m doing on social media, I truly am happy in those moments. I love being with my friends. I love supporting people doing amazing work. I love having a good time. So, that’s not disingenuous. It’s the between times that are often the most difficult. And that’s what makes this hard… I can’t do everything, even if I want to. I’ll say it until I run out of breath… Stupid constraints of time and space! lol

And that’s why this is all so important.

As always, thank you for letting me share. I hope this resonates with some of you and is helpful in some way. And for anybody worried about me, I’m good. I know that’s always a risk when I share this stuff, but I think it’s important because I know I’m not the only one going through it and I want you to feel seen, too. Thank you for caring…it means the world to me.

My dad loved baseball. When I was born missing my left hand, I know it was difficult for him for many reasons, but one of them surely was the loss of the dream of playing ball with his boy.

Or so he thought.

It’s always been the Brew Crew for this kid…

As it turned out, I loved it. Still do. Truth be told, the Brewers/Nationals game is on the TV as I write this. Appropriate ambiance, I think. Very early on I learned how to swing a bat and play catch in ways that worked for me. It took a lot of practice, but I figured it out and became a pretty good little player, if I do say so myself.

As a good Wisconsin boy, my favorite players growing-up were Robin and Paulie and Gumby and Coop and Ben… But then… We heard about this kid out of Michigan. A pitcher! With one hand.

Jim Abbott.

I was 11 when he won gold with Team USA. 12 when he was a rookie with the Angels. And you bet your ass I started pitching, just like Jim. I wasn’t big like him. Or a lefty. But I could throw. And I was competitive. Still am.

There was no internet then, so I could only see him when he was on a nationally televised game, which was rare, but I’d go to the library every day after I knew he pitched the day before to look at the box score and read the game recap. Ripping the pages open, hoping and praying to see a W next to his name. And in those early years there were a lot of them!

I collected his baseball cards (and still have hundreds of them!) and got the Scholastic book and my local baseball card shop owner even gifted me a signed photograph of Jim when I was in 4th grade, which I also still have! Anything and everything I could get my hand on, I got. Just like so many other kids like me across the country, I’m sure.

Listen. I was artsy, too.

Jim never wore #60, so according to him, this must’ve been spring training his rookie year!

Then in 1993, when I was 15, he threw his no-hitter with the Yankees. I’ll never forget it. I’ll also never forget how happy everyone was for me. I don’t know how to explain it, but everyone knew the connection I had with Jim and what that moment meant to me. And to so many others. It brought them joy knowing how happy it made me and that was so special.

Even though Jim ended his career in Milwaukee, I never did get to see him pitch in person, which I regret. But I did get to do the next best thing…

In 2013 I tweeted about my friend Nick who had an MMA fight at the time and Jim had replied with some words of encouragement. I took the opportunity to express my interest in doing an interview with him for my blog, not expecting it to actually happen, but minutes later he responded that he’d love to! And minutes after that my wife walked in the room and asked if I was okay. I was not. lol

We ended up recording what would become the first episode of my podcast and it’s still one of the things I’m most proud of (listen here). Couldn’t believe I was having a conversation with my hero, but after a while talking about all sorts of things it felt familiar…like…friends.

He sent me a signed copy of his book Imperfect: An Improbable Life (which you should also read and which I reviewed here) and signed some baseballs and a ton of baseball cards for me to give away with my book Different Is Awesome!, for which he also graciously wrote the most complimentary back cover blurb. It’s still surreal when I read it.

Then in 2016 it finally happened.

I was on a plane to Los Angeles where I was to give a keynote presentation at an event at the LA Children’s Hospital when I remembered that Jim lived…somewhere in California. So, I emailed him and asked, “I have no idea how close you are or if you're busy this weekend, but I'd love to meet up and buy you a drink or something if it works out!” By the time I got to my hotel he had responded, “Very excited to hear you will be there! I am going up to the event tomorrow, can't wait to meet you.”

Y’all. I almost peed my pants. And you know I had to ask, “So...I brought my glove and a couple balls. Are you bringing yours? It would be a dream come true to play a little catch with you. :)”

And that’s exactly what we did. Dream. Come True.

It was amazing, honestly. Jim sat in the audience during my presentation, up toward the top in the back, and I could see him nodding and genuinely reacting…he was so kind. And then it was time for the part where I demonstrate…

When I’m pitching or playing defense, I’m presented with a challenge. Just like Jim was. When the hitter hits the ball and I field or catch it, I then need to get the ball out of my glove, my hand out of my glove, the ball back into my hand and then throw it to wherever it needs to go as quickly as possible. I’ve done it thousands of times in my life and it looks kind of like a magic trick, honestly. Ask the thousands of kids who’ve seen it at the end of my school assemblies over the last dozen years or so.

Well, at the end of my presentation in LA, I told the crowd, “I have a special guest to help me show you how I do my glove transfer…and honestly, at this point, I’m probably going to zone out because I’m about to play catch with my childhood hero so…thanks for being here!” lol And then we played catch. And it was incredible. Someone filmed it, I’m sure, but that recording has been lost to time, which I’m ok with, honestly. The memory is good enough for me. And this sweet email exchange:

Over the years, we’ve stayed in touch and Jim has continued to be one of the kindest, most genuine and generous people I’ve ever met. I won’t embarrass him by sharing some of the things he’s done as favors for me, but they were incredibly kind and for people who are important to me; oftentimes going through difficult life circumstances.

Knowing how humble Jim is, all of this attention is likely going to be uncomfortable for him, but I’m grateful that so many people are getting the opportunity to share how much he means to them. He deserves it. And I’m one of those kids who he inspired to do my best, especially on the baseball field…just like him. But beyond that, he’s become a man that inspires me as a person…as a husband, as a dad, as a speaker, as an advocate…to be the best I can be.

Thanks, Jim. I know you’ve carried a lot on your shoulders. So much of it wasn’t by your choice, but you did it anyway and you’ve done it so well. We appreciate you. I appreciate you.

Also…you’re welcome. I couldn’t resist sharing this… lol

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In the process of replacement, I had to move some things to get access to the side of the printer and while pushing some shelving to the side, this…family planning tool…slid to the floor.

Now… LET’S. GET. VULNERABLE.

Let me tell you why I hate this thing.

Ok, it’s not that I hate it, but given what I’ve learned about ADHD and how my brain works, I’m able to look back and understand why this “didn’t work.” I’m able to lament the situation and be more gracious with myself for what I was trying to do. I’m hopeful that by sharing this, it might connect with some of you, as well, and give you the understanding and maybe the permission you need to be more gentle with yourself in similar situations.

A few years ago (which is when the month you see above is from) I grabbed this calendar because I saw a video on Instagram about how great it would be for our family. It would organize all the things I wanted…that I was terrible at! HUZZAH! It came in the mail and then I called a family meeting and my wife and teens (17, 15 and 13, I think) dutifully sat on the couches while I explained the new tool and how great it was going to be and the big plans I had for our weekly hangs and…then I noticed them all zoning out. I got upset. “Can you guys pay attention? Do you even care? You’re being really rude,” I told them.

I don’t remember who said it - they all might have in their own way, honestly - but, without trying to hurt my feelings they said, “Sorry, dad, it’s just…we’ve heard this all before. We’ll do this for maybe a few weeks and then it’ll just…stop. So…we’re not gonna get all into it when we know it’s not gonna last.”

They weren’t wrong. And I knew it. I said as much, too. I remember feeling horrible because I felt the truth of it, but I asked that they’d give me another chance and just do it with me and this time it would be different.

Looks like it went for eleven weeks.

If I’m honest, I’m shocked it went that long. And if I’m even more honest, only the first two weeks have anything other than the weekly schedule part filled out. I guarantee we didn’t hangout as a family on Sunday afternoons/nights like I said we would.

And that’s been my pattern nearly my whole damn life.

Come up with some great ideas/goals, feel overwhelmed trying to figure out how to attain them and then either don’t start at all or do start with some system that I think will work only to fizzle out and then hate myself for not being able to follow through.

Over and over and over and over… For decades. No joke. You should see my journals.

So, when my therapist first said “So, you have ADHD, right?” it began a healing process decades in the making. “So much of the pain you’ve been carrying with you - that loop of disappointment in yourself - was because you just didn’t know. You’ve done an amazing job creating strategies and systems without even knowing it to live a ‘normal life,’ but internally you’ve been living with pain that you thought was warranted and it just simply wasn’t.” (my own paraphrase)

I’ve been struggling lately with still feeling overwhelmed by *waves hand around* everything. It makes sense to me to be stressed and overwhelmed by “hard/bad” things, but one of the things I also struggle with is letting good things turn into bad…quickly. Let me explain that.

I have a speaking event next month that I’m really excited about. It’s exactly what I want to be doing more of and I know it’s gonna be super fun. What happens, though, is that my thoughts very quickly go to, “Well, then you need to get your speaking website done. You’ve been saying you were going to do that for years. Imagine if you actually did it when you said you were going to. You could have been doing this for a long time by now. In fact, you should have been speaking in the corporate space already and you know it. You wasted so much time…doing what?” And it goes on. And that’s just speaking. It’s similar for writing, art, etc etc.

I brought this to my therapist and he said, “Tell me about your connection between disappointment and sadness?” I just stared at him. “Can you…give me some more context?” I asked. “You go very quickly from disappointment to shame. Disappointment is real and valid and people like you who are imaginative and creative and sensitive have to live with more disappointment than most people because you can’t possibly do all of the things you think of, which creates a gap. And that creates disappointment. Add to that your ADHD and you’re driving down the highway at 80 miles per hour and you feel like you don’t have the ability to stop, so you see something you love and even if you want to enjoy it ZOOM it’s gone…and that’s disappointing. And I think maybe you haven’t taken the time to be sad about the gaps. The time lost. The opportunities missed. Those are real. And you can’t get them back. There will be more, certainly, but not those ones.” (again paraphrasing)

At this point, I physically felt like someone else. My breathing had slowed, my body was relaxed, I was crying. I was sad. And it was good. My therapist’s face was kind as he said, “You look different. Peaceful.” And it was true. I’ve spent years, decades berating myself for what I haven’t done. For how I’ve screwed up. For the opportunities I’ve missed. Over and over and over again. That’s what shame does.

This was different. This was recognizing the gap of how I wished things would have been and how they actually were and being sad that they weren’t that way…but instead of being upset with myself, there was room for understanding. For lament. For anger, not at myself, but at what life handed me in many ways. There was no pressure to make-up for lost time or opportunities. Just soul-cleansing sadness that then lead to an honest recognition of my own strength and accomplishment. The last decade of my life has been… I’m shaking my head right now because one word is insufficient to describe it. The memoir is gonna be bananas, I’ll tell ya that… lol

Shame paralyzes me even further. It puts even more pressure on me to produce, to accomplish because “you said you were going to! And you didn’t! You HAVE to!” Feeling the sadness allowed me to shed the weight of shame, actually giving me capacity and energy to create something new. Not something I feel required to do.

There’s this amazing scene in the Pixar movie Inside Out where the character Bing Bong’s wagon is pushed into the canyon, lost to the depths, and he’s really sad. They are supposed to be going somewhere, so Joy tries to perk him up to get him moving and it’s not working. Then, Sadness sits next to him and acknowledges what he lost and simply lets him be sad, letting him grieve his loss. He’s then able to get up and lead them to the train station, having honored his sadness. It’s Pixar, so it doesn’t always happen in two minutes in real life, but the concept is what’s important here…

Perhaps it’s an odd invitation, but… Maybe you need to sit with Sadness for a bit? For me, I know we’ll meet regularly and I’m actually looking forward to it. I believe our times together will become more and more brief as time goes on, but right now, as I give space to events, opportunities, moments in time, goals, relationships, decisions made - that I haven’t taken the time to be sad about before, those sit-downs might be more intense. And I’m ok with that. It’s been a long time coming.

Never would’ve guessed that I’d be smiling through tears at the end of this one…but here we are.

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For reasons I won’t get into, things at work have been very stressful for quite some time now. More stressful than I think I realized or wanted to admit. So, last Wednesday after a run of some particularly difficult meetings, I needed to breathe. I got out for lunch, saw my friend Eric at a coffee shop, did a little reading by some water…and got back to work. I still felt “pretty sad and overwhelmed” and even wrote it in my daily planner at 2:19pm.

Later in the day, instead of just putting my laundry away (which was what I was asked to do), my ADHD brain decided I should go through all of my t-shirts and organize them by color. Then I organized them by tier. Tier 1 are the shirts I wear most often, Tier 2 less often… Pretty smart, right? lol Then I went through my dresser and actually did get rid of some things, which is a pretty big deal, though I can see now it was more of a distraction than anything. I suppose there are worse things by which to be distracted! At the end of it all, I felt pretty good about what I had accomplished.

Unfortunately, at about 9:30pm I got an email that was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.

It was about an ongoing situation where we live that, honestly, isn’t even that big of a deal, but it’s the principal of the matter drives me crazy. It sent me down this negativity spiral that I couldn’t stop and couldn’t escape. I’d get upset, then rationalize my responses, then get upset that I was upset, then try to not be upset…all through the night. And then the overwhelm and exhaustion all piled on top of each other and those “mean voices” (not schizophrenic) that I haven’t heard in a long long time got so loud, rehashing every bad decision I’ve ever made and pointing out how every one of them had led me here, stuck in this house and this job and all the goals for myself and my family are unattainable because of me and the decisions that I’ve made…

It got really dark. Literally and figuratively, as I wrestled with my thoughts all night. I might have slept for an hour and even then I had a dream that I was supposed to be golfing with my cousin in a mall, but I was late because I couldn’t find him as all the stores looked exactly the same, so I was just running and running, frantically looking for where I was supposed to be. So awesome.

What sucked even more was that, intellectually, I was also telling myself the truth that there are so many good things in my life, but I just couldn’t escape the loop. Reality doesn’t hold much weight at 3am when you’re only recognizing all of the bad.

The next morning, I still went to Burn Boot Camp to workout at 6:45am. I needed something to ground me. As I pulled in I saw two of my friends leaving who had worked out at the earlier camp. They smiled and waved at me and as I smiled and waved back at them, I burst into tears. Exhaustion, happiness, peace, belonging…I sat in my car and gathered myself before going inside. Then I told my trainer, Jay, about the night I had and that I was just there to move. I knew he’d get it and of course he almost made me cry just with his encouragement and soft look of understanding. It was nice to be with friends, none of whom knew my situation, but we encouraged each other like at any other camp. I did start to get emotional several times, which I was fine with, but had to power through.

Camp didn’t “fix” everything, but it certainly helped put me back on a healthier path. When I got home, my wife let me explain what happened during the night and how I was feeling and I realized that I was afraid to even tell her how I was feeling because I felt like I had let her down, too… And as she reassured me that wasn’t the case, I was able to open up and it all came out. And damn…it was ugly. Like, tears and snot and choking kinda crying. lol That deep, soul cleansing shit. She got to hear it all, the depths of the conversation I had with myself, and she just held me and said she was so sorry and that it was ok. That we’re ok. And that we’re gonna be ok.

And then things started to get clear again.

The things I was telling myself that weren’t sticking the night before, that I wasn’t believing…they were ringing true again. I’ve been through a lot. Everyone makes mistakes. I have a beautiful family. I’m grateful to have a job and a home. I have amazing friends. I’m healthy. I’m making a positive impact in the world. I have a lot of story yet to be written…

Today I’m feeling good. Work is still stressful. I still have a lot on my plate. But, I’m good. Far from perfect, but good. Part of me is grateful to have gone through that experience last week. It reminded me that I’m not immune to those episodes. They’re sneaky and so hard! But, it also reminded me that I’m resilient and that I have some amazingly supportive people around me. It also reminded me that it’s normal to feel overwhelmed and angry and sad and frustrated and embarrassed and regretful and scared. We can lament and grieve the things/situations/decisions that make us feel that way and allow the feelings to sit and then move through, without judgement, so that we can move forward in the present moment, fully embracing who we are now and who we are becoming.

I know this was a lot, but I hope it made some sense and connected with you somehow and gave you some hope if you’re in a dark place, perhaps. Hang in there.

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Yesterday morning, in a small gym with two classroom’s worth of kindergarteners, a little girl asked me a question that reminded why.

At the end of my assemblies and presentations, I always make time for the kids to ask me questions. It’s my favorite part. They’re allowed to ask me anything they want and I answer as many as I can, though, without fail, we’re never able to get through all of them.

As you can imagine, I’ve been asked just about everything you could think of over the years. Mostly, though, the younger kids ask me how I do specific things, while the older kids ask some deeper questions about bullying and prosthetics and whatnot. I will say, when I’m asked a question I’ve never been asked before, my reaction can be a little embarrassing. I just get so excited! Like when a kid asked me how many bones I have.

Y’all.

I had to pause for a second and then when I understood why he asked, I lost it. HOW HAD I NEVER THOUGHT OF THAT BEFORE?! I do have less bones than most people! A lot less, actually! What a brilliant question! I think I might have scared him a little with how excited I got. (Leave your guesses in the comments - lol)

What I love about the Q&A time is that the kids are thinking. They’re thinking about things they’ve never thought about before. And they’re being brave. I actually love when I call on someone and I see their little face scrunched-up, thinking hard because they want to ask something, they want to be brave, but they’re not sure what to ask… “I forgot,” they’ll say. “That’s ok! If you remember, try again!” I always tell them. I will always, always champion curiosity.

So, yesterday, a little girl in my second group, all the way in the back, raised her hand and when I called on her she asked, “Are you the only one?” In my head, I heard, “Are you the only one in your family who has one hand?” because I had been asked that in the group before and am asked that question quite often. So, I gave my exciting answer explaining how I have so many aunts and uncles and cousins that it’s nearly impossible to count them all, but I’m the only one who has one hand!

She looked…confused. Not surprised, which is usually what I see. Then I saw her say quietly, “No, are you the only one in the world?”

Again I say… Y’ALL.

In the moment I felt bad that I had misunderstood her question, so I apologized and explained that no, there are actually lots and lots of people in the world who have one hand like me. Then her little jaw dropped.

I moved to the next question, which was likely along the lines of, “Can you do a cartwheel?” and then ended our time by demonstrating how I shoot a basketball because I mentioned I could since we were in a gym “if only I had a basketball” and a teacher so kindly went and found one for me (no pressure or anything - spoiler alert: I made my last shot and ended there because I’m a professional lol). It wasn’t until later that I was able to really take in the moment for what it was.

Full disclosure: I’m crying as I type this.

In her world, before I walked into that gym, there were no people with one hand. That’s not a judgement, it’s just the reality of this 5 or 6 year old little girl! My heart can hardly handle the innocence and bravery it took for her to ask me in that moment if I was the only person in the whole world with one hand. Just take a second to imagine that. And then for her to hear, no, there are more of us out there! lol Her world now includes me and the knowledge that there are more people like me out there…somewhere. And when she sees someone like me, she’ll be able to think back and say, “He was right!”

Listen, I know I’m dramatic. I know I’m sensitive. I know it was “just a visit with some kindergarteners.” But these are the things I see. Her world is a little bit bigger now. It includes me. And people like me. And that makes me really happy. And every one of those kids asking questions and being brave and thinking hard makes me so proud. They have amazing teachers who care about them and are helping them to become good people and I’m honored they asked me to be a small part of that.

I always say that one of the main benefits of my school assemblies is literally just being in front of the kids. It’s hard to believe in this day and age of constant media, but a lot of them have never seen someone like me. So, I’ll keep getting in front of them, showing them that I’m just a person, the same as them, so that their world can include people like me, too.

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Can you share a little about your experience growing up with a limb difference? What were some of the biggest challenges you faced as a kid?

It's so funny because when I was a kid, it really was a different world! Most of my childhood was pre-internet and even video games were still pretty primitive for quite a while (we got the original Nintendo when I was ten!), so most of the time I was playing outside with friends or at someone's house. For me, I didn't have much of a frame of reference for being different because I didn't know anybody who looked like me and I couldn't just go online and find someone who did. I love that we're able to do that now (for so many reasons), but I also think it helped me at the time to just live my life and make friends the way I was without comparing myself to others. I was really lucky to have found some great friends and I had very supportive teachers and family around me as I grew-up, which was so important. And to answer the second question...I think because of the support system around me and my own sense of dogged determination, I don't remember many challenges! That seems so unlikely, but it's true! And I hope that it can be an encouragement in that, even the things that were challenging at the time, I don't remember that way. Because I'm sure there were challenges...I hope that makes sense!

Were there specific moments or people in your life who helped shape your confidence and perspective on your limb difference?

I'd say it was mostly just general support and encouragement from the people around me throughout the years. Perhaps not specifically limb-difference in nature, but I've always been quite a perfectionist and I think a lot of us with a limb-difference feel an innate sense of "something to prove," so my mom always did her best to try and help me remember that it takes time to learn new things and to be patient with myself. We even still have a cassette recording of me getting really frustrated with myself not being able to play "Mary Had A Little Lamb" on that little Fisher Price xylophone and her sweet voice trying to calm me down, reminding me that it will just take time. It's kind of heart-breaking, but also so tender and says a lot about how much she cared about me. And I know she' still my biggest fan. My mom is a pretty incredible woman and I'm so grateful for her.

What’s something you wish younger Ryan had known back then that you know now?

What a great question. This might sound strange because it isn't what you usually hear, but stick with me... I wish little Ryan had known that he didn't have to be the best at everything. Or just that it was ok to make mistakes. To not be able to do things. Our intentions as parents/adults are good when we encourage kids by telling them they can do anything they put their mind to, but especially when it comes to limb-different kids, what often happens is that we internalize it as, "I have to be able to do everything that everyone else can do..." And then it might move to, not only do I have to do it, but I have to do it better. And it becomes this unspoken pressure that lives inside us, birthed from good intentions. My approach to alleviate that pressure is pretty simple, I think. We continue to encourage our kids to try anything they'd like, with the understanding that if they can't do it, that's ok! If they give full effort and have tried all they can and it's not working, hey, sometimes that's life! We just need to be intentional about making sure that pressure doesn't build without an appropriate, healthy way to release.

Many moms in The Fearfully Made community are navigating this journey for the first time. What’s one piece of advice you’d give to a mom who just found out her baby has a limb difference?

I'm afraid this is going to sound really dumb, but... Take a deep breath, let it out slowly, smile...and now get ready to love that dang baby. lol When I started LivingOneHanded.com over thirteen years ago, there were very few resources for parents. My entire goal was for moms and dads to see the things I shared and to go, "Oh...we're gonna be ok." Because you are. And that's not to minimize your experience, whatever that is. Surprise, confusion, sadness, fear, anger...feel it all. AND know the truth that you're going to be ok. There are so many resources and communities available to you now, but most importantly, you are strong and smart and capable and ready (even if you don't feel like it yet!) to love this little one, just as they are.

Kids with limb differences often get a lot of questions from curious classmates. What’s your take on the best way for parents to prepare their kids for those moments?

There are so many different ideas about how to handle this and I think the most important part is to know your child's personality and talk about it with them to whatever degree you're able. If they're outgoing and don't mind questions, then by all means, engage! Educate! Embrace! Have fun with it! If they're more shy, teach them how to respectfully decline or to extract themselves from a situation or go to a teacher... And really, we all feel different ways at different times, right? So, teaching them how to respond when they feel up for questions and when they don't feel up to it is important. But again, I think it's important not to just tell them how we think they should do it, but rather, ask something like, "If you're feeling tired and you don't really want to answer a question, but somebody keeps asking you about your hand...what do you think you'd do?" You can even role play! I'd also say this...human interaction is unpredictable, right? So, as much as we prepare, there will likely be interactions that don't go so well! And that's ok! You do your best, learn from it, and move forward. Be a duck, as they say.

How can parents help foster confidence in their child as they grow up?

I think the best way to foster confidence in a child is to listen and make sure they know they're heard. Here's what I mean by that: If my daughter tells me she feels ugly, my gut reaction is to say, "No you're not! You're beautiful!" Inadvertently, I've dismissed her feelings altogether and essentially told her she's wrong. Instead, if I say, "I'm so sorry you're feeling like that...do you want to tell me what's making you feel that way?" it gives her room to tell me more and lets her know I'm truly listening and I care. If she doesn't want to engage, saying something like, "It's really hard feeling like that about yourself. Sometimes I feel like that, too. I happen to think you're beautiful and if you'd like to know why, I'd love to tell you." And listen, I know it seems like a lot, but when a kid feels listened to and heard, it makes a world of difference. So, whether that's how they look or the things they can or can't do or problems they're having with friends or sports...I really think that having a parent who listens and engages will bolster their confidence as they grow.

What inspired you to write Different Is Awesome? Was there a moment that made you realize this book needed to exist?

I've always been a writer and my website had been live for about a year when I remembered the story that the book is based on. If your audience is unfamiliar, one of my younger brothers was told by his elementary school teacher to bring something cool for show-and-tell...so, he brought me! That's right, his much older, one-handed brother was what he brought for show-and-tell. I laughed every time I thought about that experience, so when I started doing work in the limb-difference space, I revisited the story and eventually brought it to life, highlighting the fact that we're all different in some way or another and that's awesome! Back in 2015, when Different Is Awesome! was first released, there were very few kids books featuring characters with one hand, so that was my main objective. But to see how it's connected with humanity at large over the last decade has been absolutely incredible.

The book does such a great job of showing that differences are something to celebrate. What do you hope kids (and parents!) take away from reading it?

You nailed it! The things about us that make us unique are good! That's the foundation I hope to help lay for kids, not only in how they see others, but in how they see themselves, too. Because if we're unable to accept ourselves the way we are, it's nearly impossible to accept others the way they are, too. About a month ago I helped lead a Kids Camp at the gym I go to and at the end I read my book to the 50+ kids that were there. Two days ago I had parents come up to me at the gym to tell me their kids are still reading it almost every night! I absolutely love that kids enjoy reading it. I also love all the stories of families who bring it to school on the first day and read it to the class year after year to foster discussion with new classmates to normalize the situation, using it as a tool to learn and grow together. Just so awesome.

Where can parents buy Different Is Awesome, and are there any other resources you’d recommend for families raising a child with a limb difference?

If you'd like a signed copy or you're interested in buying copies in bulk for your school/business/any reason, just send me an email at ryan@livingonehanded.com. You can buy them on Amazon, too! I also do school assemblies nationwide and have been for over a decade, so if you're interested in having me come to your school, I'd love it if you connected me to whoever might be the right person at your school to discuss it! Feel free to point them to my Speaking Page. I also give keynotes and organization/corporate talks, so please reach out if you'd like a unique speaker who'll make your group laugh and cry and have the best time! As far as other limb-different resources go, I'd say The Hand Book is an incredible resource, written by my friends Nina Lightdale-Miric MD and Sarah Tuberty OTD OTR/L, two absolutely brilliant women with decades of experience, both professional and lived.

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“I…don’t think so? Not that I’m aware of,” I said, my right eyebrow sliding up.

“Hmm,” he replied, a very obvious look of surprise (but not judgement) on his face.

“DAMN IT!” I remarked. “Do I have ADHD?!”

Flash forward to a few days ago.

At Burn Boot Camp that morning we did an exercise called “tarantulas,” which they recorded me doing and shared on their Instagram stories. I then re-shared their story on mine and it made me think of my friend Steve, who went by the nickname “The Tarantula.” We worked together at Ace Hardware when I was in high school 30 years ago. Then I got to thinking that I still have a greeting card he gave me when he left (he was in his 20s, I think) and I was pretty sure it was in a box up in my closet, so I went upstairs to look for it. I grabbed the box I thought it was in and it wasn’t there. So, I looked in my side table drawer. Not there. I KNOW IT’S SOMEWHERE. I grabbed the box and put it back up in the closet and noticed all my t-shirts. I have so many. I wonder how many? I should count ‘em. And then organize ‘em. Maybe by color? Color and size? I’ve never done that! Wait, I still have to put these two baskets of laundry away…

This is maybe a sixth of my t-shirts…

One of the first things I did after the conversation with my friend was ask a few people close to me their thoughts and they were like, “Wait, you didn’t know?” Apparently it was so obvious to everyone else, they just assumed I knew! Incredible. And I will say, in the process of discovery, I’ve laughed until my sides hurt countless times because of how obvious it is to me now in retrospect.

In fact, I still have many of my “report cards” from elementary school and it’s absolutely fascinating to look at the comments the teachers made. ADHD wasn’t really a thing back in the early ‘80s, but boy howdy, did I ever exhibit the behaviors indicative of an ADHD kid. (ADHD is way more than just talking a lot and being distracted, but…)

Lots of “very talkative” and “needs to focus” and “rushes through” etc etc.

I’m still learning a lot about how things work best for me, but I’ll tell you how I felt when I first realized ADHD might be a part of my life: Relieved. Understood. Excited. The truth is that I was never scared or sad or upset when I found out. It made so much sense! And as I learned (and continue to learn) about it, it has helped me to understand myself to a degree I never have before. Suddenly the way I do things, the way I think, the things that overwhelm me, the things that make me anxious, the things that excite and motivate me… they all make so much more sense now.

My friend was telling me how I’d developed strategies and coping mechanisms throughout the years without even knowing it, which is why, for the most part, I’ve been able to be high functioning and successful in many ways. But, the truth is that there’s been an inner turmoil for years…decades?…that I didn’t understand, that I’ve now been able to address. A feeling of inadequacy. Of failure. Of “why can’t I just get my sh*t together like other people? Or just like I want to?” The near constant disconnect between the plan and the action and the subsequent feelings of letting myself and everyone else down.

Sigh. That’s a really heavy burden to carry inside for such a long time. But there are so many of us who do it.

So, embracing the unique ways my brain functions has been incredibly empowering. I still take time to grieve and lament the past when those feelings arise because it’s important to recognize them and give them space, but then it’s nice to see them on their way, too, as I move forward with new understanding. It’s a pretty incredible feeling.

I still have a lot to learn and a long way to go in my journey, but it’s been great so far. I’ve loved connecting with other people who’ve discovered they have it, too, because it presents differently for us all! And it’s not a disease to cure; it’s simply a way the brain works that requires some extra attention and understanding. And I love that we can learn from and encourage each other just by living our lives and sharing our stories.

As always, thank you for letting me share mine.

Every once in a while I get on an eBay kick where I become kind of obsessed with an item and the last couple of weeks it’s been this old Milton Bradley brain-teaser game called “Drive Ya Nuts.” I remember it having a bright orange base and seven blue “nuts” (like “nuts and bolts”) with numbers on every side. It’s kind of an old school Sudoku situation where you “take the nuts off their spindles, mix ‘em all up, then put them back on their spindles, so all the touching sides have matching numbers.”

When I was younger, I’d spend every other weekend at my dad’s house and I’d almost always pull that game out of the round table in the living room and test my skill. There was a lot of frustration, for sure, but when I was able to get all those numbers to match…oh, the sense of accomplishment!

The ones on eBay I’ve been looking at aren’t even all that expensive, but I just couldn’t bring myself to buy one. And I’m glad I didn’t.

Yesterday a local coffee shop that recently closed opened their doors to give away all of the stuff they had left. I arrived a little early, but clearly not early enough as there were already about thirty people in line. I thought about leaving since the couple things I was after would likely be gone by the time I got inside, but I stayed. And it was true; by the time I got inside, the place had been pillaged. I walked around just to look, since I was already there anyway, and then I saw it…that unmistakeable orange base and those blue nuts! Sitting on top of some board game on a bookshelf!

A lady started pulling the games off the shelves and said, “I actually just want the bookshelf,” so I grabbed it. I couldn’t believe it. Sadly, one of the nuts was missing. I figured it must’ve gotten lost in the shuffle, which is totally understandable, but then…there it was! That rogue nut, perched precariously on another shelf! I grabbed it and placed it on the spindle, my very own “Drive Ya Nuts!” complete and free!

Obviously, I haven’t played it yet. Don’t worry…I will.

If you made it this far, this is where things are gonna get a bit deeper. Thanks for coming with me.

Throughout the years, many of my eBay “obsessions” have been toys from my childhood. Some of them I literally spent years trying to find, either because I couldn’t remember the exact name or how to search for them or…for whatever reason. For instance, these books. All I could remember for years was “calico kitten.” I just remembered that I loved the pictures so much and that I would know them if I saw them, but it seemed like no matter how I searched, it just wasn’t working. Then, finally, after years and years it clicked and there they were! And now they live with me again.

It was a similar experience with these little seals. When I was really little, my mom and I would go to a store called J.T. Puffins and I was allowed to get one of these little guys. I had a bunch of them in different colors. My friend Glen and I would play pretend with them at recess even. They made me so happy. For years, I tried searching for them and could never find the right ones, until finally, one day Google helped me narrow it down and there they were! And now, they’re back with me again.

I also had this little bowling game and my most vivid memory was when I was visiting my grandma and grandpa at their trailer on Fish Lake. As I was walking in, the screen door slammed shut and cut my big toe, so my grandma plopped me onto her lap and we bowled while eating her homemade fried donuts. I got this one in 1997 when I was going to school in Minneapolis as a 20 year old.

Then there were my Star Wars toys. Sigh. Y’all, I’d be so rich if I still had them all. lol I had the Millennium Falcon, Slave I, Speeder Bike, Jabba the Hutt play set, the Ewok village… But, my favorite, by a mile, was my Wicket the Ewok figure. So, he’s with me, too.

Star Wars, Transformers, M.A.S.K., G.I. Joe, M.U.S.C.L.E. Men, Cabbage Patch Kids, My Little Ponies… I was a lucky kid, for sure. And it’s unlikely I’ll be able to rebuild my collection completely, but acquiring some of my favorites from time to time has been really fulfilling.

Yes, that’s a “bootleg toy” of Luke’s Severed Hand. lol

Some of you who are already further along in your journeys probably know where this is going…

I’ve only started working through what I’ll call “childhood stuff” within the last year and it has been both the most challenging and the most helpful work I’ve ever done. It has helped me understand myself in ways that have illuminated how and why I do things the way I do, how I think, the way I relate to others…and it’s helped me to heal in ways I didn’t even know I needed to, which has allowed me to be more open and healthy in relationships and more in tune with who I truly am.

Part of this process has been the ability to make some sense of things that didn’t quite make sense before. And for many of us who grew-up on the ‘80s, reconnecting with our childhood toys is fun, but for me…it felt different. It was more precious. What I’ve come to realize is that the importance of these toys for me is heightened because, not only am I a highly sensitive person, but my memory works best as story and each of these toys carries with them stories of happiness. Happiness during a rather challenging time in my life. So, for years, before doing this work, Little Ryan was desperate to find those memories of joy. Of fun. The ones that made me smile.

And that kind of breaks my heart, honestly. But, I’m also happy I have them. And now, as I continue to learn and heal and grow, I get to continue the search and add to my collection from a place of knowing. Of acceptance. Of gratitude. I get to remember how much fun each toy was to play with, how lucky I was to have it, and I get to be grateful for the happy memory that comes with it.

So, I’ll keep searching. My memory…and eBay…and garage sales…and estate sales… Because your bank of happy memories can never be too full.

Some of my dream toys I hope to get one day… Optimus and Jetfire were my two favorite Transformers, no question. I remember buying the Donkey Kong hockey game with all Susan B. Anthony dollar coins my Uncle Roger gave me for my birthday. And my Wicket Stuffed Figure…that picture on the box WAS me, I mean, besides having two hands. lol

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With that in mind, let me share what happened today.

I had a really hard time waking up this morning. I should’ve known that might be the case when I conked out on the couch, fully clothed, TV and lights all on before 10pm last night. I’m usually awake at 5:45am to be out of the house by 6:25ish so I can get to Burn Boot Camp for the 6:45am camp. It’s been a long week, though, and I’ve gone every morning, so today was my rest day. Even so, my alarm went off at 6am. That extra fifteen minutes seems kinda hilarious when I think about it now. I hit snooze twice before I eventually showered and slowly started moving.

Do you ever have those days? Where you just feel…sluggish? Weighed down? Slow? What’s weird is that there are a lot of good things happening in my life right now, but sometimes even that can be a little overwhelming, ya know? Couple that with the usual worry and stress I allow myself to carry day-to-day…no wonder I’m plodding along!

As the morning moved toward lunch, even though I didn’t go to camp, I popped into Burn to help with a couple things and…well, good things always happen when I go there.

I asked my trainer Sam how his back was feeling and as he was telling me about it he said, “Oh! I thought of you earlier because there was a member who dislocated her elbow and she was trying to figure out how to do medicine ball slams and I thought to myself, ‘How would Ryan do it?’” We shared a good laugh about that. (If you’re new here, I was born with one hand.)

Then a few minutes later a friend I don’t usually see (because he typically goes to camp at a different time) came up to me and said, “I just thought you should know that my son has been reading your book basically every other night since Kids Camp.”

Well, friends…I smiled and said thank you for telling me that, because truly it is so sweet, but also…I was on the verge of tears for a good bit after.

(The Kids Camp I helped lead last month was filled with so much fun and some intense conversations! lol)

And stick with me here because this feels a little self-aggrandizing, but it relates to you…it does. Why did it make me so emotional?

This is probably going to sound weird and maybe it seems like it’s coming out of left field, but…I’ve made a lot of bad decisions in my life. I’ve done a lot of stupid stuff. I’ve hurt people. I’m going to go out on a limb and say that you probably have, too. It’s really easy to dwell on that stuff. The mistakes we’ve made. The opportunities we’ve missed. The things we wish we’d had done differently.

And while we need to deal with the reality that those actions have created, we also need to recognize the good decisions we’ve made. The good things we’ve done. The people we’ve helped. The impact we’ve made for good.

So, when I’m feeling low, sluggish, heavy, overwhelmed… and I’m reminded that just being at the gym at 6:45am slamming the ever loving sh*t out of a medicine ball with my friends can be helpful? I’ll take it. When I’m feeling like I can’t get anything right and I’ve missed too many opportunities…and I’m told a little boy reads my book almost every night? I’ll hold onto that. Because I did that right.

And that’s my encouragement to you. If you’re feeling like you just can’t get it together or you’re feeling overwhelmed or embarrassed or that it’s too late or… Whatever it is. I know you’ve done some good things. I know you’ve helped someone. You’ve made some good decisions. Think of one that you’re proud of. One that makes you smile. One that makes you hold your head a little higher. One that makes you say, “Yeah, I got this.” Because you do. We do.

And now let’s no find a friggin’ wall to run through together.

Took this in the car after leaving Burn. Teary-eyed and all. Appropriate hoodie, too.

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