Do It Myself Blog – Glenda Watson Hyatt

I am writing this on my iPad, comfy in bed with my kitty Faith curled up beside me.

Why?

Last week our friend was diagnosed with advanced pancreatic and liver cancer. The doctors give him six months.

My heart goes out to him, his wife, his kids and grandkids.

How does one respond to such news? Does one crawl under the covers, thinking what is the point of doing anything? Or does one pack as much as possible into each day to create lasting memories for those left behind? And, if so, where does one even start?

I really don’t know how I’d would respond if I was in his place. And, I guess there is no way of knowing until faced with a similar situation.

I know we are suppose to live each day to it’s fullest as if it was our last. But what does that mean, really? The bills still need paying, the laundry still needs doing, the dishwasher still needs emptying. Surely I wouldn’t do those things if I knew it was my last day.

And that leads to another question: is it better not knowing how long one has? (Of course, the doctors could be wrong.) Does one live more purposefully, more consciously, knowing the end is near? Or is the joy completely drained out with the constant thought “Will this be the last time I do this, I see this. I hold her?” Or does it depend upon how one has lived the rest of his life?

I don’t know, and, perhaps, there is no way to know. Perhaps we are meant to do our best at living each day – whatever our best is, whatever is most meaningful to us, today.

So why am I writing this on my iPad in bed? No, not because I’m depressed and am hiding from the world. But rather I’ve been curious what it’d be like to climb into bed on a cold winter’s day and write without the usual distractions while sitting at my computer.

This morning I thought “why wait till winter?” Today is a good day for writing a post in bed. Without the distractions of checking email and Twitter, I’ve found I’m more focused on my words and my thoughts. And isn’t that what writing is all about? Isn’t that what living a meaningful life – focused on only the task in front of you right now – is all about?

Instead of leaving a comment or tweeting this post, I’d much rather you did something meaningful: go hug your kids – two-legged, four-legged or otherwise; go call that friend you’ve been meaning to call for eons, go write a real letter to a loved one – or whatever is most meaningful to you in this very moment.

I’m going to enjoy my kitty a little longer and read a bit more of Winnie-the-Pooh before jumping up to do the next task on my list.

After much deliberation and agonizing indecision, I have decided not to attend the mega high school reunion tonight. I feel that’s not what I need right at this moment; even using the event as research for an iPad experiment isn’t enough of an enticement.

This evening I’d much rather:

• Plan what needs to happen before I relaunch the Blog Accessibility Mastermind course,
• Choose – or, at least, narrow it done to the our top 3 choices – the colours for Darrell’s office, our bedroom and the ensuite, which will be painted while we are in Vegas,
• Order in Chinese food and play Wii with Darrell – something we haven’t done in months because we’ve been too busy, and then
• Climb into a still-to-be-made clean bed and read the current issue of O Magazine.

That would make for a peaceful, content and satisfying evening for me.

What would make this evening enjoyable and satisfying for you?

Man! I have been home for a week now, after an amazing trip and Washington, DC, and I have done next to nothing. After being too busy for several months, my tank was on empty. In fact, after getting home from the airport last Saturday, I slept from 4pm to 10am! Never in my life have I slept for eighteen hours straight!

This week I have focused on refueling my tank:

• I have slept for as long as I needed.
• I have eaten and drank when I was hungry and thirsty. Darrell introduced me to Booster Juice. Those are nummy and could become habit-forming!
• I have vegged on the couch, watching mindless television. Yesterday, with the heat and the air filled with smoke from the forest fires, I managed to veg guilt-free for the entire day! I didn’t have any energy to do anything else.
• I have spent time with my husband without feeling I need to get back to work. We celebrated on twelfth anniversary on Monday!
• I have listened to my iPod on shuffle, with the occasional Christmas carol mixed in. I’m a bit surprised by how listening to my own music, which I haven’t heard for a couple of weeks, has really boosted my energy and is getting my mojo flowing again.  😉

How do you refuel your tank when you are running are empty?

Somewhere in my possession I have a letter from a medical specialist, written when I was young, stating my diagnosis – quadriplegic athetoid cerebral palsy, that I am functionally non-verbal and that I require 24-hour nursing care.

That letter surfaced to consciousness while I have been feverishly working on my presentation for the Plain Talk Conference – a conference on communicating plainly and clearly in the health industry – to be held in Alexandria, Virginia, next week!

I have also been making arrangements for the four-day trip. A tour of Washington, DC, may also be on my itinerary! I’ll be traveling alone; without a nurse attached.

Why am I sharing this?

Letters are written, notes are made in files. Sometimes these words are necessary to “play the game” to get the service, the equipment or the medication necessary when living with a disability.

But, those written words do not define who you – or a loved one with a disability – are. Leave those words on the paper, in the file. Only you can choose the words that define and describe who you truly are, your own truth.

The words I’m choosing to define myself today, at this moment, include:

I am a creative and innovative solopreneur who happens to have cerebral palsy and uses an electric scooter for mobility. I do have a significant speech impairment and, because of that, I have developed a unique way to deliver riveting presentations. At times I do require assistance; my virtual assistant and editor have been invaluable these last few weeks. Today I am too busy to be disabled.

What words do you choose to define and describe yourself today?

Liz Strauss continually shares nuggets of wisdom that leave me pondering and savouring it in my mind until I’ve fully sucked out all of the flavour, all of the meaning. 

During her keynote at this year’s SOBCon (Successful and Outstanding Bloggers Conference), she tossed out another nugget of wisdom:

You’re building a barn, not a coliseum.

I have been pondering, savouring those words since April 30th. While busily building the Blog Accessibility Mastermind course and website over the last few weeks, I’ve realized there are three points to Liz’s words:

1. A barn is not huge.

Coliseums are monstrosities; barns are not. Start with something small.

I had been intending to launch Blog Accessibility Mastermind (BAM) since September, but writing the thirteen lessons was a daunting task and other commitments kept distracting me. Reframing BAM from a 13-lesson comprehensive course to a 6-lesson introductory course made the project more manageable, more doable. The project was then possible to get off the ground; revisions and additions can come later.

2. A barn is solid, not finely polished.

A barn is solidly built and serves it purpose: to house livestock. The walls are not finely sanded and flawlessly painted. This is not imperfection; it’s beauty, in it’s own way.

My main focus is building solid content for the individuals who are kindly paying to learn something new. Although having a forum in which members could discuss course content and share ideas would be nice, finding an accessible forum application and setting it up is time consuming. Using the comment section within the members’ area will work equally as well and is something familiar to the members who are bloggers and know how to interact in the comment section.

3. Actually, it’s a barn raising.

Reminiscing my Little House on the Prairies days, a farmer didn’t build a barn. The community came together to raise barns, with each individual contributing his or her skill or talent.

For someone who, in the past, has tried to do everything herself, to control everything herself, this was the most difficult point to learn. Seeing the strengths and talents in others is easy, but then stepping back to allow them to do what they do best – and accepting how they do it – is the difficult part.

However, in the end, the key to a successful barn raising is accepting the talents and energy from others as gifts and graciously welcoming them into the community. Their wanting to be involved in the project is a testament to the barn being raised.

Once the barn is raised, all those involved join in a celebration meal. Since hosting such a celebration with fried chicken and apple pie isn’t possible virtually, I would like to publicly thank those involved in the raising of Blog Accessibility Mastermind:

• SOBCon co-founders Liz Strauss and Terry Starbucker for inviting me to present at SOBCon09, which laid the foundation for this barn;
• The Random Twitter People (aka Paul Merrill, Deb Brown, Becky McCray, and Jon Swanson) for their brainstorming, clarity-finding and kick-butting;
• Mary-Lynn Foster for her service as a sounding board;
• Oscar Gonzalez for finding the right tool to make a tedious task a breeze;
• Jason Teitelman, Tony and the graphic guys at BlogCatalog for the free ad;
• Charles Pennell for tracking down the "pesky" blue and replacing it with mauve in the sidebar;
• Miss Dazey for being the official PayPal buy button tester and for her energetic cheerleading;
• Grant Griffiths for his enthusiastic tweets and support on launch day;
• Lori-ann Engel for her virtual assistance services – she makes me look good;
• My childhood friend Karen Tsang for writing a rockin’ sales page with me;
• To those I may have missed here, thank you for your never-ending support.
• And, last but definitely not least in any way, my wonderful husband Darrell for his unwavering support, patience and understanding, for keeping me well stocked in chocolate and for the ever increasing runs to Tim Horton’s for a caffeine fix.

When the time comes to raise your barn, you can count on me.