Mediating Me

In my current graduate class, I'm teaching students how to mediate.

The mediation table is hands-down one of my favorite places.

I don't know why, but I've always felt really comfortable sitting with other people while they're swimming in conflict...in fact the more adversity, the sweeter the opportunity to find common ground.

There's nothing more satisfying than bearing witness to two people finally hearing each other-- honoring their contribution to past hurt while rallying together for future hope.   

But when it comes to navigating difference in my personal relationships, I'm a mess.  Fairly conflict avoidant, it's gut-wrenchingly painful when I feel like I've wounded another.  Instead of going toe-to-toe, I'd rather tell you that I'm sorry and buy you a coffee.  Doesn't an Americano solve all the world's problems?

We know this isn't how the real world works.  When feelings are hurt, it takes time and a willingness to sit in the unknown, which I fucking hate. 

I yearn to be my husband who just says, "It is what it is.  No sense being mired in speculation.  It will unfold as it should.  Go about your life."  Ugh.  No, the situation requires analysis.  What did I do?  What did he do?  What could we have done differently?  How can I approach a resolution?

All of which brings me back to my mediation training.  In the role of the mediator, we are called to be third party neutrals--impartial, unbiased facilitators--who guide a process and engage the issues, interests and feelings of the other to potentially move toward a third side and find common ground. 

Whether you're an educator, a business owner, a parent, a plumber or a fill in the blank...the reality is that none of us are inherently neutral.  We are all vulnerable, flawed, frail human beings just trying not to scream terrible obscenities (while chauffeuring our children) when some stupid-ass can't properly merge onto the interstate.

So, as I sit and stare at Friday and the end of the second week of school, I'm mindful that much like brushing your teeth or taking a shower, we should all have an internal mediator.  You know, like a little guy/girl on your shoulder that says, "Calm down, crazy lady.  Breathe.  It's not as bad as it seems.  You don't have to have all of the answers.  Yelling really doesn't solve much.  How can you let go of the unknown, the judgement, the mean commentary in your head and just be in the here and now?  What might that look like?"

I rather like a mediator angel on my shoulder, helping me to mitigate the fucked up voices of doubt, uncertainty, fear and vulnerability in my head.

I'm going to figure out how to pay myself to mediate me...unless you have another unbiased party ready and willing?

Enough is Enough

I feel like I've been having this dialogue with myself for the better part of 20 years.

You know, the one that goes, I'm not enough.

Fill in every noun that you see fit....I'm not a good enough... ____________ (wife, mother, daughter, friend, runner, writer, small business owner, home owner, homework helper, story book reader, "Go Fish" player)...you see where this is going.

Sometimes, the self-talk is more prevalent when I'm expecting a visit from Aunt Flo and my hormones are all across the board, but most days, the yucky words are tucked deep into my being, only to be pulled out when I'm feeling less than, a little under the weather, or lonely.

And so, I headed out this morning for a 9-mile run.  The weather was stunning.  55 degrees and sunshiny.  Really, a to-die for September day.

Almost exactly one mile into the shebang, I knew that this was going to be a battle and that I needed to pull my big girl pants up because shit was going down.

And sure enough, it did.  Huffing, puffing, unable to efficiently use my breath or to get a grip on my pace, I vowed to quit about every other minute.

Just when I was certain that I was grinding to a halt, I would be flagged down by a friend or a neighbor running through the park or on the trail and think, God damn it...I guess I better keep going.

Literally, with a mile and a half left in the war, I was staring up at the biggest hill of my training course on the busiest street with a million cars coming and going and I thought, I can't.  I just don't have what it takes today....in fact, I'm not sure if I have what it takes most days.

And then, in the middle of the hustle and bustle, a cardinal flew onto a bus stop bench and looked at me as I was struggling to put one foot in front of another.

My grandmother Roberts was a fanatic about these beautiful creatures.  She adored them.  And just as I see him perched waiting for me to greet him, sweat pours into my eyes and they start to burn probably because I'm hallucinating and going into cardiac arrest, and I immediately I think...enough is enough.

If I don't do this at this moment, on this street, with this bird, who will?

If I don't care for these crazy beautiful children even when I want to scream, Uncle, I give...who will go the extra mile?  They only have one mother.

And If I don't take ownership of all the blessings that have been bestowed upon me and my life, who will?

And so, I will show up, every day...not perfectly, maybe not always happily and certainly with more questions than answers, but I will come knowing that whatever I have to give in this moment, at this time will be, and always has been enough.

It was enough today.  I ran 9-miles.  Nine grueling, hard fought miles that I get to claim.  And tomorrow, when I have more or different tricks or tools in this bag, I'll pull them out, but for today...I'm happy to know that enough was enough.