I have said countless times that Sherri was my rock. She was always the first person I turned to when I had a problem and needed advice. She was always the person that I needed when life was falling apart. She was the person I most wanted to share all the good times with. Sherri was the foundation I built my life upon. So it’s no wonder that her passing has me experiencing a level of grief that has left me struggling to carry on.

Now, there is nothing wrong with having a marriage that is so solid that you trust your spouse with all your thoughts and emotions. However, just because I trusted Sherri with my whole heart doesn’t mean I should have never made her my rock, my foundation. At the end of the day, Sherri was only human. There were times when she disappointed me (and I’m sure far more when I disappointed her). There were times when she didn’t respond as I hoped. And those moments meant the foundation I was building my life upon was shaken.

Now, I know very well that Sherri did not build her life upon me. That may seem like a terrible thing to say, but she built upon the firm foundation, the one upon whom we should build our lives upon – Jesus Christ. Sherri loved me with all her heart as many people have been quick to point out to me since her passing. She shared almost everything with me (as most couples I am sure there were a few things she held back as did I). But when the storms of the world battered her – and they certainly did right up until her final breath – she found her refuge in the one who would never be shaken and would never fail.

Psalm 46:1 tells us God is our refuge and strength, a very ready help in trouble. When life’s storms rage, it is in God that we should find our refuge. Sherri did this and I saw it every day as I watched her battle lung disease. I understood this scripture but I didn’t apply it accurately. Yes, I trusted the Lord with my life but when life got hard I turned to Sherri first. And this is why I believe the grief has been do debilitating for me. You see, now when I need someone to be there the most, the one I would normally turn to FIRST is not here.

In her passing, Sherri’s life is once again teaching me a valuable lesson. I cannot build my life upon any foundation other than the one the Bible calls me to build upon. Matthew 7:24 says Therefore, everyone who hears these words of Mine, and acts on them, will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. Sherri built her life upon the firm foundation that is the word of God. I lived by the word of God. I believed the word of God. I understood the word of God. But my life was built on the soul mate He had given me rather than built on the one who gave me the soul mate.

I loved Sherri with all my heart and soul, but her passing did not assure my salvation. Her death shook me to my very core. It left me grieving and heartbroken. But despite what I have kept telling myself, it did not leave me alone. The one who cares for me the most and the one who should be my refuge has been right by my side since day one. He was just waiting for a moment , today, when I realized that my house was built on the wrong foundation.

Sherri was an amazing woman who the Lord blessed me with for almost 35 years. He was with us every step of the way. He was never far from our sides, even as we struggled the last few years. My wife always knew this and was always turning to Him first. Somewhere along the way I lost sight of this and placed my first trust in Sherri even though I knew better. Even though she let me down at times, I still turned to her first.

Maybe this is because we refer to God as Father. And I don’t necessarily see father as the one to run to in times of need. For you see, I am not a good dad. I will be the first to admit it. I allow my frustration and anger to get the better of me. I raise my voice. I scold rather than love at times. I am not the picture of a gracious and merciful father. So it’s no surprise that I would have trouble with God as Father. Couple that with the fact I have always trusted and gotten along better with women, Sherri seemed more comfortable to turn to.

When Sherri passed, my house of cards fell. My home, built on the shifting sands of human frailty, collapsed and I was left grieving. And over the last seven months I have battled loneliness because my soul mate was gone. But I was reminded today that I have never been alone. I wasn’t alone when I wept over her body at the hospital. I haven’t been alone the many nights I’ve spent crying since her passing. I haven’t been alone as I struggle to raise a specially gifted child. One has always been there with me.

I now have to remember to rebuild my life upon the one true foundation, the firm foundation that will stand the test of time and all life’s storms. I must seek refuge in one who will always be there and never forsake me. He blessed me with an amazing wife and an unbelievable marriage. I must now remember that He will never leave nor foraske me as I move forward with nothing but amazing memories of the soul mate I was fortunate to share life with. She wasn’t my rock, but she sure did serve the one true rock and so do I.

Before Sherri’s illness transitioned all of the household chores to me, I would often catch her vacuuming behind me. It used to irritate me no end. Let me be honest – it made me angry. I would always say something, and she would be quick to say what I did was fine but she just noticed something. Yada, yada, yada. Truth is, I just didn’t do it as well as she did and she was redoing it.

At first, I would think to myself that if I couldn’t do it well enough for her she could do it herself. The truth is she did do it herself more times than naught. Early in our marriage I did very little of the housework. Looking back now I was a bit of a jerk when it came to that. I made all the excuses – I’m tired from work. I don’t really know how to do it. So on and so on. Fact of the matter is I didn’t like doing it. And I still don’t like doing it.

As Sherri got sicker, she finally admited she couldn’t do it any more. (Of course, this came after multiple attempts left her gasping for air and being forced to hear me lecture her about it.) I picked up the responsinbilities and if she were honest, I am sure there were many times she wanted to grab the vacuum and go behind me. But she accepted the fact she couldn’t do it any more and I accepted the fact I had to do it.

Now, when I vacuum, I leave it out for a while. Why, you ask? Because I know I am going to see something I missed or the cats are going to leave another layer of fur on the carpet and I am going to need to vacuum again. I catch mysef chuckling from time to time thinking I am turning into Sherri. I wish I could, but I simply understand now what she did – even our best efforts at times simply aren’t good enough and we need to try again.

As I look around my home (it’s taking quite a lot of effort to not call it our home) I realize there is so much that needs done. The whole house needs repainted. The carpets need cleaned (or eventually removed and hardwoods put in). The kitchen really needs renovated (something Sherri desperately wanted to do). The master bath could use a new look. On and on my mind races through the projects I want to do.

Here’s the thing: I want to change the house to make it more mine. But somewhere in the back of my mind I also think I want to change things because the memories of it being our house are so painful. Truth is no matter what I do to the house it will still be “our” house. Memories were made here – although many of them were not necessarily pleasant as the house was her cell until she passed away. Sure, I want it to be the best house for my daughter and I, but I also would like a bit of positive change to counter all the negative change of the last seven months.

The vacuum is put up for the day, but I almost can here it running again. And I can see Sherri’s slight smile and her saying, “I just…” I just wish she was here to vacuum behind me. I just she was here to make her “excuse” for why she was doing things again. I just wish she would spend the rest of the day trying to smooth my ruffled feathers. I just wish she was still here.

Before I lost the ability to think and have rational thought in college I studied a considerable amount about the human body in regards to athletes. One of the fundamental principles is the body can only be exerted so hard before it breaks. Joints are not made to be twisted in certain ways. Tendons and ligaments can only be stressed for so long before strucutal integrity is compromised. No matter the physical condition of an athlete the body can only do so much.

Don’t get me wrong – an athlete must train his or her body agressively so he or she is in the best physical condition. The better the condition an athlete is in the better chance he or she avoids injury. But, and this is a big but, prime physical condition doesn’t guarantee a body free of injury. Freak things still happen and the human body can be broken.

Now, I don’t know jack shit about the human brain. Sure, I used to know a little about the physiology of the brain and how it functions from a practical standpoint, but I have no idea how it works on an emotional level. I’m not sure there is any level of “conditioning” the human mind can undergo to prevent injury. And I certainly have no earthly idea how to keep your mind from undergoing the myriad of emotional traumas that a person faces in a lifetime.

The human body will warn you before it breaks down. Aches, pains, cramps, etc. are all signs that the body is being pushed past its limits. When ignored, injury is sure to follow. But what about the brain? Does it give you signs before it breaks? Emotional trauma can surface in different ways in each indvidual so it’s not like a simple shoulder soreness or hamstring cramp. So what is the sign the human brain is about to undergo a break?

I had an editor who I love dearly that warned her sports staff about what she was going to do if she saw the words “war of attrition” in another story. I get it – I was a sportswriter for a season and we tend to use words like battle, skirmish, frontline, war of attrition in our writing. There are some similarities between athletics and warfare when it comes to execution and preparation. So, in some ways, athletics is a battle between two sides each seeking victory. But what about the battle for the human mind?

When a volcano is about to erupt, the number of earthquakes in the surrounding area increase in frequence and intensity. It’s a sign that something catastrophic is preparing to happen. The body gives signs like this as well before it breaks. But, again, I have to ask does the mind do this? Do the number of panic and anxiety attacks increase? Does your anger become even more intense and out of control? Do the moments of sheer sadness and grief magnify?

I ask all these questions because I am in the midst of a battle for both my body and mind. While my wife was ill, I lost a considerable amount of weight. I was losing the battle for my body just as she was. Ultimatley, my wife lost the battle, dying at far too young an age. I am still waging my fight. I have regained part of the weight, but I’m still not healthy. I don’t sleep well. I don’t exercise at all. And while I am eating again, I still can’t say my diet is all that great. So the battle continues.

The frontline that is scarier is the battle for my mind. You see, grief is to the mind much like cancer can be to the human body. It attacks and it attacks hard. I doesn’t let up and the “cure” has yet to be found. As grief takes hold, the emotional well-being of the one suffering is in serious harm. Anger, frustration, sadness, stress, anxiety – all of these things are magnified as you try to cope with the grief of losing a loved one or some other traumatic event.

Like the earthquakes around a volcano, these emotional triggers can become more severe and happen often. In science, we have yet to find a way to keep the volcano from erupting. The best scientists can do is use the signs to help predict when it might happen. The question I have is as your mind starts to meltdown can you stop the traumatic from happening. Can you conquer grief before it conquers you?

At this point in my journey, grief is winning. And frankly the battle is not even close. Not one day goes by where grief doesn’t take more and more ground away from me. I’m in full retreat mode as the battle wages on. The signs that my mind is cracking under the pressure are there and increasing on a daily basis. I continue to pull back, hoping to find a safe place to regroup so I can wage a counterattack. Finding the strength to do so is difficult. But the one thing I do know beyond the shadow of a doubt is I have to find a way to fight back.

Athletes must train their bodies and seek peak physical condition if they are going to perform at the highest level. People seeking to live life to the fullest and with joy need to train their minds to be strong in the face of all of life’s adversities. What does this training look like? I have no idea. I could help an athlete improve their bodies, but I have no idea how to help train their minds – or mine for that matter.

So the battle for my mind wages on. Grief, pain, anguish, anger, stress, etc. on one side. The other side is my heart desperately wanting to enjoy the remainder of my life. And right now it’s a war of attrition. There will be a winner. The question for me now is simply this – which side will win?

In the 1976 TV movie “The Boy in the Plastic Bubble,” John Travolta starred as Tod Lubitch – a young man who was forced to live in a plastic bubble due to a weakened immune system. In many ways, this describes the last years of Sherri’s life. Her seriously damaged lungs made just getting up and moving around difficult. Going outside and being exposed to allergens and the Florida heat often exasperated things 10 fold. It was a difficult situation to stomach watching my once fiercely independent wife not able to leave home and missing all of life happening around her.

Several months ago I made the decision to leave my office job and work remote so I could be home more with my specially gifted teenage daughter. It seemed like a good decision at the time, but hindsight as they say is always 20-20. Basically what I did by making that decision was put myself in the bubble that Sherri would have given everything to escape. Now physically there is no reason for me to stay in the house. Emotionally may be a different scenario all together.

Being home with my daughter more needed to happen. She has regressed since Sherri’s passing and needed some stability. Plus, trying to find care for her while I worked outside the home was expensive. But being home every day of the week means I have little-to-no interaction with adults. And when one is struggling with grief hiding out in the home all alone is not a wise decision. I have found the grief magnified over the last six weeks or so in part to not being able to share life with anyone.

Yes, I have one amazing friend who makes sure to text, invite me to join her for coffee and talks real with me. Yes, I am able to escape to church and I have one new friend there who sits with me and makes a point to talk to me every Sunday she is there. But that’s pretty much where it ends. Partly because I have a crazy work schedule that makes getting together with someone tough. But also because Sherri’s illness and passing have changed me at a fundamental level.

Sherri’s death changed who I am and how others see me. I am no longer a husband; I am a widower. I no longer have someone who loves me unconditionally to do life with. I no longer have someone who can take me by the hand when life sucks and tell me everything is going to be fine. Sherri was all that and so much more, and without her, I am alone and struggling to survive.

There is another layer to this pain – Sherri’s passing and the subsequent actions of others have made me quetion whether I will ever be able to fully trust people again. You see, I wear my heart on my sleeve. I am quick to share at a deep, emotional level. It’s who I always have been. It’s the curse of having a big heart. What I have found is when I do this I put an immense amount of trust in people. And not everyone is worthy of that level of trust I am learning. It’s not always malicious by folks, but the truth is people just can’t be there for someone who is grieving the way the one who is grieving needs. I know that.

So by being in the bubble, I am protecting myself in a way. If I don’t have people to communicate with I can’t overcommunicate. Thus, I can’t put myself in a position to be hurt further. As an extrovert, this is crippling. Sure, I have plenty of folks who reach out via text or social media, but there is no face-to-face communcation, no hugs, no true emotional support. It’s life in the bubble. But a life free of the bubble could prove to be quite dangerous.

When a physical condition keeps you in a bubble – as it did Sherri – you fight with all you are to try to get out. She would have loved nothing more than to be able to get out and live her life. I think that restrictive lifestyle may have been almost as bad for her as the pain itself. But when you are in the bubble for emotional protection, you may not be quite so willing to try to escape. Despite the intense pain isolation brings, there is a sense of safety in keeping yourself apart from people who you believe will ultimately let you down.

So, here I exist in this bubble of my own choosing. I cry daily grieving the loss of not just my soul mate but of the life I led for more than 57 years. I sit by myself in the quiet trying to figure out how I am going to make it another day on my own or if I want to risk further pain and heartache by letting people in. Sure, it would be much easier if the people who made promises of support and encouragement had kept their word. But they really couldn’t do so at the level I need.

When I was in high school, I had a wonderful teacher who encouraged all of us to “get out of the bubble.” This is how he referred to our small town. At my 10-year class reunion, this teacher was there and he was so proud of me for getting out the bubble. I feel I would be letting him down now as I have put myself right back in a bubble that might not be as easy to escape as that small Pennsylvania town. It would be nice to hear his voice one more time say, “Get out of the bubble.” Maybe that would be the encouragement I need to do so.

I did it again.

Another important event and I missed it. My nephew got married Saturday and while the family was enjoying his special day, I was eating Pop-Tarts at my desk. This scene has been replayed countless times in my life.

Now, I can blame the pandemic — in part — this time. But that wouldn’t be completely true. Sure, people being sick and the fear of catching coronavirus factored heavily in the decision this time. In fact, it was the main reason. Unfortunately, there hasn’t been a pandemic all my adult life, so I can’t use that as the excuse for all the other times.

I have missed so many birthdays, anniverseries, holidays, family gatherings and other important events that I have lost track. The last month or so has been especially hard as it seems that work has trumped every important event on the calendar. And sadly, those are days I will never get back. No matter how much I promise to make the next special event, I can’t go back and retrieve all the ones I missed.

Yes, I am part of a profession in which the hours stink, the product must always come out and there often is more work than people to do it. And, yes, I am wired in such a way that I will never say no and always sacrifice myself for the good of the company. Because of this, I am going to miss important events. Bottom line is I just don’t stick up for myself.

When you are person who always seeks to make others happy, the fear of disappointing them often outweighs your own wants and needs. But here is where I have a problem — I am not only putting the benefits of others before my own; I am putting them before my family. And that’s just wrong. Yes, I need to work and provide for my family. But something tells me they might just rather have me around for life’s important moments than have money in the savings account.

I have this burning desire to be a provider. I am consumed by the need to have enough money in the bank to pay all the bills with a little left over for some fun. But when will there be time to enjoy it if I am always doing something to earn it? Will my family really care if there is money in the bank if I’m not there to be part of their special moments? The two sides of the battle constantly war in my soul and truth be told, there is no winner.

Many of us struggle with this age-old dilemma — responsibility vs. fun and enjoyment. But too much of one is not healthy for your soul or your back account. You have to put aside life’s frivolous pleasures in order to be a responsible member of society. But there are also times you need to leave work at the office and have some fun. When your days are over, it will be your family and friends who remember you, not the person who’s shift you covered at work.

So, if you are like me, remember that if you don’t look out for yourself no one else will. Set priorities and boundaries — and keep them! Sure, some people may get a bit upset with you for not working for them, but your family will thank you for it. And you just might thank yourself for being at the events that make life special.

Ask me to come up with one positive from 2020 and it’s going to take me a good long while to answer. Sure there were some fun times, laughs and smiles, but for the most part the year was one to forget.

It wasn’t just about COVID-19 and being forced to live in a way that I never wanted. It’s more than seeing new friends suffer the physical effects of the coronavirus and the emotional toll we all faced. It wasn’t just missing out on all the things life has to offer that we took for granted until we couldn’t do them anymore. It was those things and so much more.

One of the most painful parts of the year was coming to the realization that the friends who got me through my youth and young adulthood are no longer here. Not literally, although I have lost a few over the past several years. These friends have grown distant, in part because I moved. But the bigger reason is as I have struggled through internal battles I have pulled away from many people that once meant a great deal.

At a time when I should have been relying on those closest to me, I went through the journey almost alone. I was embarrassed that I was not the person I appeared to be on the outside. I was ashamed that I wasn’t as strong as some thought I was. I was scared that others would see me as weak. At the end of the day, I just didn’t want anyone to know what I was going through, so I traveled alone.

I know that many of those friendships may never be repaired. That is the result of the choices I have made and I have to be willing to accept that. I am hoping some of those dear friends are waiting for me to reach out and will embrace me when I do. And believe me, I want to do so — and I need to. I never once took my friends for granted; I just didn’t want them to think of me as something other than the person they remembered.

So as we limp into 2021 still facing a great deal of uncertainty and pain, I am going to see what I can do about being a better friend — a better friend to those who have been with me in the past and to those I have yet to meet. The year ahead will be difficult. There is still a great deal of unknown in what lies ahead, but I am ready to press on — this time with more people along on the journey. I certainly can’t promise to be strong, brave or transparent but going to try to do better than what I have done of late. Praying and hoping that all of us will have a better new year — one filled with love and friendship.

“I yam what I yam an’ tha’s all I yam.”

Such were the words of the quintessential philosopher, Popeye. I have been thinking a great deal about how profound those words were by the bulging biceped sailor man with the rail thin girlfriend. There is a great deal of meaning to be found in that phrase.

Those words struck me recently as I was watching the series “The Right Stuff” on Disney+. The series chronicles the lives of the original Gemini astronauts. It gave you a glimpse at them as people and their families — although I am sure some creative liberties were taken to make it “better” viewing. 

I found myself drawn to John Glenn. Glenn wanted to do something great — something for which people would forever remember him. That line of thinking resonated with me. And I saw some similarities in our personalities. But there was one big — dare I say, huge — difference between us, and that is Col. Glenn was an extremely talented man with a tremendous amount of self-confidence.

As I have been doing some serious self-evaluation, I have found that I really have no self-confidence. I have no real faith in myself and I don’t believe I have any real talent. Sure, there are some things I I am “good” at, but there is not that one thing that when I am gone people will remember me for as they do John Glenn.

I’m not sure when I lost confidence in myself — or if I ever really had any. If I did at one time have faith in myself, I am not sure what happened to it. I could blame two former supervisors I had that were — well there’s no easy way to say this — real jackasses. Nothing I did was ever good enough for these two. Despite others saying I was doing good work, these two were never satisfied. All I knew to do was to work longer and harder, and even that was never enough.

Truth is I don’t believe I even had any self-confidence prior to these two tearing down any self-esteem I might have had. I can look back and see several instances of me not believing in myself. I can look to my college days and recall not pursuing a career in medicine. I have always tried to play it off as having issues with this and that, but the truth is I never believed that I would be good enough to be the doctor I longed to be.

I can reflect back to tossing away the biggest dream I ever had — playing professional golf. I loved the game when I was young and thought I was pretty good. Then one day, I’m not sure when, it dawned on me that no matter how hard I worked I wasn’t going to be good enough. I have no idea if this was true because I simply quit due to a lack of confidence in myself.

Maybe my belief that I have no talent stems from the fact that I am surrounded by so many truly talented people. My father was (and still is) a damn good, dedicated doctor. My mother is an amazingly gifted woman in so many ways. My grandfather was a wonderful woodworker. My grandmother was a superb seamstress. My other grandmother was a beautiful pianist/organist. My grandfather was a wonderful orator and pastor.

And it doesn’t stop there. My brother is a computer genius and has so many other amazing talents. And topping the list is my amazing wife who’s talent never ceases to amaze me. From being an amazing teacher and counselor to an unbelievable mother, she floors me with her talent each and every day. And I won’t even begin to discuss the uber-talented journalists I work with and have worked with.

All this talent surrounds me and I wake up in the morning, look at myself in the mirror and say, “I can’t even grow a beard.” I certainly can’t sit here and blame anyone for how I see myself. Yes, some people have been less than loving and uplifting with their critiques of me, but at the end of the day, how I see myself is all about me and not about them.

Now, I know what is going to happen as some of you read this — you are going to quickly tell me that I’m wrong. I know the words will be meant to uplift and encourage, but never tell a person who has taken the time to take a long, hard look at themselves that they are wrong. For you see, how a person sees him or herself is a truly personal thing. And it will only further exasperate a person if you tell them their opinion is wrong. Sure you can offer love, encouragement and support, but do so in a loving manner and not a condescending one.

Another thing that some of you may ponder is — why share this? What good does it do to be critical of yourself and make it public? For me the answer is two-fold – first, I am sure I am not the only one who will read these words who thinks he isn’t talented or who lacks self-confidence. I’m not the only who has been told he has missed his calling and thought, “I don’t even know what my calling is.” So, my hope would be that if that is you that you can see you are not alone. There are plenty of us who think we have little to offer and who long to find a way to make an impact on the world around them. 

Second, these feelings have been boiling up inside me for years and they needed to come out. They were poison in my soul and the damage they have done has been severe. The negative light I see myself in is not healthy and I had to give voice to it. For you see, in order to improve you first have to admit you have a problem. If I am going to find some hidden talent I didn’t know I had or if I am going to find self-confidence, I need to admit it’s an area I need to address. So you are witness to me now — I am a person who needs to change to make the best use of the years I have left.

At the end of the day, we all have those things in life that we don’t like about ourselves that we want to conquer. Those things can be overwhelming, depressing and even toxic. But I’m here to tell you that nothing will ever change if you don’t take the time to seriously examine your life and make a decision to change. If I am going to be the person God intends me to be, I need to deal with this part of my life.

If you have made it this far, thank you for reading. I appreciate you taking the time to hear me out. And for those of you who are struggling with similar issues, I am here for you. Together we can change. Together we can offer each other the confidence we might not be able to find in ourselves. And maybe together we can find a powerful way to leave a lasting mark on the world.

Everyone faces storms in life. Some blow out as quickly as they blow in. Others linger, deluging you with heartache. And some never seem to leave.

For quite a while, life has been like being trapped in a Category 5 hurricane – destruction and heartbreak at every turn. Sure, every now and then the wind and rain would subside down to about Category 3 level, building up my hopes only for them to be dashed when the intensity returned.

I had reached the point where I simply wanted the storm to end – one way or the other. I was about to give up when something happened. A shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds for just a moment and restored a little hope to life.

With one email, I began to think the storm was ready to part. One email lead to another and then a phone call. Then another phone call and another and then a longer phone call. And at that end of that call the clouds broke and the sun shone brighter than it had in a long time.

As the storm pushes away from my life, a new adventure is ready to begin. What is that adventure, you ask? Well, thanks for asking because I am ready to scream it from the mountain tops. Here goes – I’M MOVING TO FLORIDA!!!

That’s right after spending most of the last 35 years in North Carolina and the last 13 at my current job, a door burst open with a privately owned newspaper in central Florida and the offer was just too good to pass up. And the offer was the first real ray of hope in a long time – one that came at the perfect moment.

While it was an “easy” decision, it is never easy to box up your life and move on. Yes, the storms of life had been battering me recently, but the rains don’t wash away the amazing memories I have made here. I graduated from college. I met my future wife and we got married here. We built and owned our first home. We have friends that we will cherish for a lifetime. But if the prolonged storm taught me anything it was to seek the rays of light life offers and follow them.

So the adventure begins. Boxes are starting to pile up. Donations are heading out of the house faster than pizza disappears around me. The stress level ebbs and flows from cataclysmic levels one minute to a mere minor annoyance the next. But life has reached a level of excitement that has not been present for quite a while.

Saying goodbye is never easy. Despite the many “bad” things that have happened of late, part of me will always be in North Carolina – much like part of me still resides in Pennsylvania. There are amazing people who have shaped my life in both places, people who have made me the person I am today. I pray that I will find those kind of people on the next stop of the journey.

One thing is for sure, it will be nice to see some sun and be out of life’s storm for a while. I certainly know that storms will come back – literally and figuratively – but there is joy in the journey again. And I have to say that makes riding out the storm worthwhile.

If you follow me on Facebook, you know I try to post something funny or whimsical each day. Some folks have been nice enough to thank me for giving them a daily giggle or for helping them start their day with a smile. I am happy to do so, but truth be told, there is another reason I do it. Let me explain.

If you have ever suffered with anxiety, depression or just general malaise, you understand how difficult it can be to get out of bed each day. You certainly know that smiling or laughing are extremely difficult when all you really feel like doing is crying. For me, the chance to make others laugh often covers up my inability to do so, and it certainly helps me feel better to know that I have made others smile.

I know this about myself, but it never really struck me how important making others laugh is to some people until the passing of Robin Williams. Many of the moments I have laughed the hardest have been watching or listening to Robin Williams. I honestly believe he was one of the funniest men to ever live, but he certainly wasn’t living a happy life based on the sad end to which he came. And I have to wonder if he was working the hardest to make others laugh at the times his life was the darkest.

Those suffering from depression or anxiety will find their own coping mechanisms. Some will eat. Others may exercise. And then there are those of us who swallow our pain and sadness by trying to make those around us happy. We receive joy when those around us are smiling. Unfortunately the flip-side of this is when a joke bombs and no one laughs – that makes us feel worse. And there are times when we will joke at inappropriate times because we simply can’t deal with what life is giving us. It’s not that we are being crass, but we simply can’t bear any more pain and anguish so we try to joke our way through it.

Sadly, those who seek to make others laugh often fool those around them into thinking that life is fine. Others believe anyone that funny can’t simply have problems. In actuality, the problems exist but the coping mechanism of humor helps cover them over. Sometimes the funniest people alive are living a miserable existence, much like must have been the case for Robin Williams. Underneath all his antics and wackiness was a man who obviously had a lot of problems.

All of us have our good days and bad ones. And those people you run across who seem to be hilarious and fun-loving, have their bad days as well. Never forget when dealing with people to look past the surface to see how someone is really doing. And after you laugh at someone’s joke, take time to ask them – how are you REALLY doing? Sure, you might get another joke as an answer. Or you might just find that the funny man needs a hug and a listening ear. What a difference that might make in someone’s life and it just might keep the laughter going for a while longer.

I sat in my newsroom tonight, alone, trying to get caught up on some work. The only sound emanated from the scanner – the constant source of information and, at times, entertainment for journalists. I glanced around the room, picturing the people who would be at those desks in the morning. Then my mind wondered a little farther, and I began to envision those who occupied those desks a year ago, five years ago, 10 years ago.

It dawned on me as I took a few moments to reminisce that I had learned a great deal from the people who manned those cubicles and offices. Some of them I looked up to for they had helped me when I was just a kid cutting my teeth in the business. They answered all my questions. They offered me advice and tips. They made me a better journalist, editor and page designer. Some of them became like family as I felt a camaraderie and love for them that makes them special to this day.

Others, to put it kindly, I just couldn’t stand. They were irritating, braggadocios, incompetent … well, I believe you get the picture. But after some thought, I realized that I also learned from them. I educated myself in the ways not to do things or to treat people. I learned traits that I did not want to emulate. I saw things in them that if I avoided would make me a more productive journalist.

You see, a newsroom is a microcosm of life. We always will have those people in life that we love and cherish. Friends and family who stand by us and offer advice and tips that make us better people. These are people we love to be with and we want to experience as much of our life with them as possible. Then there are those people in life that we simply don’t care for. We separate ourselves from them, avoiding them as much as possible because we just don’t like them.

Both groups have something important in common – we can learn something from them. Countless people come in and out of our lives. There are those we look up to who are gone too soon. There are those we dislike who seem to stick around far too long. No matter our feelings for people we can learn something from everyone. Good lessons and bad help shape us and make us better people. How you view these experiences will help determine what kind of learned person you become.

If you avoid the irritants in life at all cost, you are going to miss out on valuable lessons. How will you ever know which traits are bothersome if you never experience them? How will you learn what mistakes not to make if you first don’t witness them? How can you become a better person if you don’t live life with some people who aren’t friendly or uplifting so you can see the flaws in your own character?

A newsroom is a diverse group of people who hold a common goal – to inform the public and put out the best product possible. Some people you will like, even love, and consider them treasured friends. Others you would gladly do the 25 to 30 years the judge might give you for your actions. But from all of them you can take things that will make you a better human being. And life outside of the workplace is the same. Everyone, good or bad, can teach you something if you are willing to learn from them.

As I reflected on the newsrooms of yesteryear, the names floated through my mind. I could hear old co-workers favorite expressions and tidbits of advice. I can recall the times we laughed together with a sense of humor only journalists can really appreciate it. I remembered those folks who were less than pleasant to work with and the lessons I learned from watching how they went about things. Both groups left a lasting impression, and hopefully, made me a better journalist.

As I continue to travel life’s path, I think about the lessons I have learned from everyone I have met along the way. Some were amazing opportunities with wonderful people who I will cherish forever. Other moments were painful, irritating and downright maddening, but contained valuable lessons of their own. The good and bad of life have helped me become more learned. And it did so more readily when I was willing to learn from everyone. How about you – are you willing to be taught by both friend and foe? If you are, life will hold far more lessons for you to learn and from which to grow.