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?

Minimizing Regrets...Starting with a Mammogram

I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I once had a horrifying experience in a tanning bed.

I was in my early 20's and as luck would have it, I found myself with a free ticket to go on an all-expense paid cruise in the dead of winter.

I was ghostly looking and thought that a quick dose of color was exactly what I needed to get my tropical island groove on.  Somewhere between placing the uber small goggles on and the ultra fluorescent lights humming, I quickly became overwhelmed with the sensation that I was laying in my own coffin.  Lifting my arms up to get my under sides, I started quickly feeling for lumps or inflamed tissue of any kind.  Nothing.  But I still wasn't convinced.  I started planning my funeral.  Deciding the music.  The people who would speak.  All of it.  Visibly shaken, I got out of the bed and have never gone back into one again.

I didn't think much about it until years later, I started learning about the history of breast cancer on my paternal side of the family.  Continuing to administer self breast examinations regularly, I just thought, I'm too young to worry about this.

And then, during my last annual exam, my OB encouraged me to get a mammogram.  Even though, I'm 38 years of age, the familial history makes a difference.

And so I am....next week.  And, I have to admit, I'm starting to feel anxiety all over again.  Not quite yet planning my funeral, I am however, assessing my behavior and trying to decide which regrets that I no longer want to live with.

While we all behave poorly from time-to-time and have people that we've not yet apologized to for our choices, overall, I'm painfully aware that the real purpose of all of this living thing is how we treat one another when the going gets hard....when someone is reaching out in need, do we offer a hand, or do we rest in the rationalization that we're busy people and we can only do so much?

Is it possible to choose kindness when all you really want to do is to have a minute to yourself?  And when we do choose to give, do we find ourselves with more energy, bigger hearts, greater appreciation and ultimately, more love?

My mother always told me that "To whom much is given, much is expected."  I've never taken that phrase to mean monetary goods....I've always equated it with whatever gift(s), blessing(s), you find yourself endowed with, they must be shared with the world.

Because if one day you find a lump or the test comes back positive or your better half decides not to come home, the most important place you can find yourself in is one of gratitude....thanking God and the world for what you've been given, no matter what.  And ultimately, it starts with acts of kindness, generosity and availability always.

My experience tells me time and time again that it's worth it to give.