Why I marched … toward human dignity AND reality

By Monica Vest Wheeler

Did you ever feel the need to just walk, to exercise your rights, to do something you've never done before? I did that Saturday, January 21, for the first time in my life, taking part in the Peoria, IL, version of the Women's March that swept this nation and various pockets of the world.

I did not take this decision to walk lightly, and for me, it was NOT political. I created my own poster, "It's all about human dignity and compassion, caring for caregivers." My friend Genny urged on her poster for parents to raise their sons to respect women and to raise daughters to earn respect. Her message focused on education and behavior, a powerful one that constantly needs to be reiterated.

I don't consider myself a protester, but rather someone who is not afraid to speak up about the often overlooked needs of a growing number of individuals and families who are dealing with serious injuries, illnesses and diseases, and the ongoing challenges of caregiving. Yes, women make up the bulk of family caregivers, but there are more men AND children joining these ranks every day.

It's not just a woman's issue: it's a human issue, the need to focus on human dignity and compassion for those who are affected and those who care for them. Family caregivers provide billions of dollars worth of unpaid service, and the financial toll grows larger every day. I witness every day that society and government are ill-prepared for the demands of caring for individuals with brain-related conditions, from traumatic brain injury to stroke to Alzheimer's to autism to mental illness and more.

And that doesn't include an endless array of other health conditions. The need to provide 24/7 care for Alzheimer's patients alone could very easily bankrupt this nation. And this doesn't even touch on the emotional and physical toll on caregivers.

We need to work smarter, not necessarily harder, in every corner of this nation. We need to make some personal sacrifices for the greater good. We need to learn to give more and take less. We have to face new realities that the world has changed, that certain markets and industries simply don't exist anymore.

Lamenting the past only prolongs the regrets and self-pity and blame. We must look forward. 

Therein lies the beauty of putting our imaginations to work for that greater good, to reinforce the notion that lifelong learning is a joy and responsibility, that there is endless human potential and ideas that will create new markets and industries, that service to others can enrich us emotionally, physically, spiritually AND financially.

We do not and must not live in isolation.

I abhor those who resort to self-serving vandalism, violence and vulgarity. It's criminal, greedy, selfish and hateful.

I equally admonish those who lie, those who cover up, those who steal from the less fortunate, those who push their own selfish agendas without regard for the human toll. We must hold those individuals accountable and never relent on the path to truth.

That gathering Saturday was filled with sunshine and hope. I see the beauty and potential of healing and lifting. The enthusiasm and passion must be constantly reignited if we are to survive as a community, a nation, a world.

When we serve with sincerity and compassion, we cannot be stopped. When we lift others, we cannot be ignored. When we look beyond ourselves, we will not be forgotten.

Forget the politics. Shame the politicians who put politics above the human condition. Speak loudly against those who only care about their egos and bank accounts.

Now, give me a little while to think of my own movement to keep the momentum going …  

The time we choose not to lose

By Monica Vest Wheeler

Did you ever fully consider the terms "passing the time," "passing the buck" or "passing the butter"? The latter two symbolize passing along something to someone else. The first is something you can indulge in solely or collectively, but its consequences are yours alone to ponder … and accept.

I've not been obsessed by the topic of time since my dad's sudden passing a month ago, but I have been consumed by his watch that I wear all the time everywhere, except in the shower. Now, whether it was my dad's doing or a defect in the watch, it's running two days ahead on the date setting. We unsuccessfully tried resetting it and then finally decided not to waste any more time on it.

What I have found interesting is this sudden need to be planning ahead. Is it the watch? I've also found myself thinking more before speaking. Is it the watch? I've also been more "present" in the time I give myself, which has been considerably more of a focus on my own health in the past four and a half weeks. Is it the watch?

The greater discovery is that I fully comprehend that I have a choice in how I spend that time. It's always been there, but I didn't completely grasp it until recently. Is it loss? Is it age? Is it common sense finally kicking in after all these years? I'm placing my bets on the last possibility since my brain is a little quirky at times …

We all waste or pass the time at times, because our brains do need an occasional break, but I find myself increasingly baffled by the folks who toss aside time like it's an endless commodity and dilute the value of their own lives.

I cannot understand people who spend endless hours playing computer/tablet/phone games in isolation … instead of playing games face-to-face with abandoned children and forgotten seniors who would give anything for a playing companion.

I cannot understand people who lounge on the couch in front of the TV for eons and cheer for strangers thousands of miles away … instead of cheering on the local heroes and becoming heroes in their own right by extending a hand to those less fortunate.

I cannot understand people who are consumed by a poverty or self-pity mindset … and refuse to see or accept the bounty of life and solutions around them, the gifts of love, comfort and care extended to them, all because they're so wrapped up in their own hopeless world.

Remember this: we have the time we choose not to lose.

Not a moment was lost as I attended a visitation Monday afternoon … and talked Monday night to a dear friend who got a cancer diagnosis earlier in the day.

Not a moment was lost as I misplaced some sleep to compose this essay.

Where's your time you're choosing not to lose today? 

The twisted journey in search of personal freedom

By Monica Vest Wheeler

Do you find yourself frequently searching for something you can't quite define?

Is it happiness? Is it love? Is it fulfillment? Is it simply the meaning of life?

It kinda reminds me of the chorus from that song on the old country comedy show, "Hee-Haw," something I watched every week as a kid:

"Where, where, are you tonight?
Why did you leave me here all alone?
I searched the world over,
And thought I found true love.
You met another and
Phht! you were gone."

Whether it's love, happiness, fulfillment, the meaning of life or something else … just when you think you've captured what you've been searching for, you've heard that "Phht!" blowing in the wind right in your direction. Yep, I've been "Phht"ed quite a few times over the years … and that can be as icky as Superman spitting into the wind …

In search of that elusive something I've had trouble defining most of my life, I've crisscrossed this nation more miles than I can count and have been to Germany, Poland, the Netherlands and Israel … the high lands, the low lands, and my own back yard.

I just figured I'd know it when I saw "it," which is what I tell salesclerks when they ask if they can assist me. "No, thank you, I'll know it when I see it."

In the many moments of soul-searching I've accumulated in recent weeks after the sudden passing of my dad, two words finally spoke to me and connected all the wayward corners of my life, from personal to professional and everything in-between. Two medium-sized words that I had not married nor fully comprehended until now:

Personal freedom.

Now, go ahead and stare at me like I'm a little crazier than usual, and I'll wholeheartedly agree. I'll break out my purple pom poms and start my cheer: "Give me a P, give me an E …" and you can join me at any letter you like.

I really thought I had it all figured out when I declared the true meaning of life was love. Yes, you can take my definition to the bank and go dancing in the streets, climb every mountain and ford every stream …

I've adopted this new mantra of "personal freedom" to address the self-imposed limitations so many humans bear. My eyes have been opened to what has held me hostage and what I've been afraid to let go of. And it's not only a question of "what" but answering a bigger challenge of "why." I thought I had conquered it before, but I was mislead by my own interpretations.

For far too long, I subscribed to Scarlett O'Hara's philosophy: "After all, tomorrow is another day." (Google her if you don't know who she is!)

Yeah, tomorrow is another day, but I woke up a few days ago with the unwavering resolve that I WANT TO LIVE NOW.

My newly defined personal freedom relies on dedicated focus, writing, photography, reaching out and within, speaking up and more often, and so much more … putting to use all those talents God has given me and that so many individuals have accepted and nurtured along the way.

Embracing those two words has opened my life to so many new emotions and opportunities and connections and conversations. Even my tears serve a greater purpose in nourishing a new seed in my soul … and my laughter has all my cells vibrating in harmony, even the ones that sing off-key …

Where, oh where, does YOUR personal freedom hide?

Share it with me … share it with the world … we're waiting with open arms and hearts …

Talking to my pets as I figure out what to say to people

By Monica Vest Wheeler

Do you subscribe to the theory that life is NOT a dress rehearsal? We get one chance … but that doesn't mean we can't practice a little along the way … with the animals.

Though I never saw the movie "Dr. Doolittle," I didn't need a degree to talk to the animals. I'm a cat whisperer, dog whisperer, horse whisperer … whatever of God's creatures will lend me an ear. I talk to them in bed (my cats Gabriel and Bling), at my friends and family (dogs and cats), in a field alongside a country backroad (the horses … only because I can't have one of my own …)

For much of my life, I've had this deep fear of "bothering" people when I really need them the most. My journals overflow with endless entries on how I wish I could reach out to someone at a particular moment, but I always came up with a reason on THEIR behalf why I shouldn't bother them … they're too busy, they've got too much on their plate, they don't need one more problem (me) …

I didn't have pets as a child, so my stuffed animals became my confidants. When I got married and my own home, I finally adopted a cat and have been addicted to them ever since. It took me a lot longer to seek the consolation of dogs after being bitten by a neighbor's bulldog when I was a little kid. I still remember my dad throwing me up on his shoulders to save me … And now I love dogs, too.

After my dad unexpectedly passed away in Indiana before Christmas, I was away from my cats for nearly nine days. When I returned to my own bed, my babies curled up with me as I tearfully whispered how my life had been shattered in an instant. I confided:

"I just don't care anymore. I have nothing left to give anyone. Babies, does that make me selfish?"

"Listen, Mommy," Gabriel said, "you are not selfish. You just need time to heal."

Bling chimed in, "Remember what you tell all those caregivers, that they need to step away for a little bit and focus only on themselves. It's not selfishness. It's necessary for their own survival. They need to hear that, and they listen when YOU tell them because you believe it. You teach them how to believe it for themselves. And you need to tell yourself that you deserve to survive, too, Mommy."

I shook my head. "I don't want to be strong anymore. I'm too tired to be strong."

Gabriel nuzzled my nose. "You tell those survivors of stroke and traumatic brain injuries how they can and will pick themselves up because they're much stronger than they'll ever give themselves credit. You know it's true because you've witnessed their strength and triumph after tragedy and disappointment."

Bling said, "Yeah, Mommy, you're a cheerleader and not a fakey one."

Wiping tears, I looked at my little girl. "Did you just say flakey?"

She tilted her head. "Well, you are flakey at times, but you're not a fake. No one believes in the power of the human spirit more than you do. You know people can recover and come out stronger if they look beyond themselves, even at their weakest moment, when they give themselves permission to truly embrace life."

Gabriel's paw rested atop my hand. "Don't forget that you're only human, Mommy. You don't have to be superhuman. There will be losses in life, but you have to go on. That's what life is. You tell others that they don't have to go through the pain alone. You help them. It's time to take your own advice. You're NOT a bother."

Bling added, "It's okay to tell someone you're hurting. And that's how you heal by revealing the pain. You know it's true. You can't heal when you bottle up the pain and fear. You've seen those people who destroy themselves and others by putting up walls. Look at how many walls you've knocked down all because you've asked the right questions and simply listened."

Her brother peeped, "You need to feed souls and hearts and minds because they're hungry for the truth of life. Your daddy is right here beside you and his cheers are echoing in heaven. I can hear them. Can you? Oh, I forgot that we cats have special hearing."

Bling said, "You can go on. You will go on. You have so much more work to do."

I smiled. "It will be better after I get some sleep."

Gabriel stretched. "Before you go back to sleep or feed anyone else, can you refill our food bowls first?"

Yep, I'll work up the courage to tell all this to human beings … soon, very soon …