Do It Myself Blog – Glenda Watson Hyatt

All year you have been working hard on a major project. You have been focused, driven and passionate. You have come back after setbacks, and have found creative solutions to imposing barriers.

You have received amazing support from all of those around you.

You can nearly taste your just reward.

With the finish line in sight, you stumble and fall. While down you realize how completely drained and exhausted you are. You pause for a moment and think, “I don’t have any more left. I have given it my all, I have nothing more to give.”

What do you do?

Do you walk away, saying you did you best? That you will try again another time? 

Do you you give into the those naysayers who said that you wouldn’t finish? That you wouldn’t go all of the way?

Do you listen to the nagging little voice that kept saying you wouldn’t make it?

Or…

Do you pick yourself up and dig deeper than you have ever dug before?

Do you find from somewhere, anywhere, some way, any way, to do whatever you need to do?

Do you reach that finish line with your head held high and claim your just reward?

What is your Stanley Cup in your life?

Yesterday I tweeted “Imagine we’re sitting around, chatting. What might you want to ask me?”

Four people welcomed the invitation:

John Foliot asked, “Can you name one thing that often makes you want to “give up”, and one thing that inspires you to “push on”?”

Encounters with people (and systems) who do not see beyond my disability to see my abilities and the real me inside – and there’s still many of them out there – are extremely discouraging and devaluing. I am left feeling what’s the point of trying when my capabilities aren’t validated, aren’t valued.

But then I reconnect with that part deep within myself that doesn’t give up, that keeps going, no matter what. That reconnection might be sparked by listening to one of “my” songs, witnessing someone else struggle and thinking “if they can do that, then I can get through this”, or writing a cathartic blog post and then getting on with it.

Holly Salsman enquired, “What would you say your biggest challenge has been, and your biggest accomplishment?”

Communicating verbally with those unfamiliar with Glenda-ish has always been, and remains, a challenge. A high school counsellor once asked if I would prefer to walk or to talk. My response was immediate: talk. People are so quick to judge one’s cognitive abilities based on her ability to speak; if they don’t understand her speech, they tend to discount her other abilities. I am constantly proving that I am not hearing or cognitively impaired; that I understand and I am capable. The iPad has helped enormously, in some situations, but I am finding it is not the magic bullet every time. Face-to-face communication will likely remain an ongoing challenge through my entire lifetime. Thank goodness for blogging and tweeting!

To date, my biggest accomplishment has been writing and then self-publishing my autobiography I’ll Do It Myself – a project thirty years in the dreaming, researching, planning, learning and creating. Opening the first box and seeing my baby for the first time was such an emotional experience!

However, I sense my ultimate accomplishment is still yet to come. Stay tuned.

The Badass Project queried, “You clearly can do it yourself, but what or who could you not do it without?”

I am extremely fortunate to be surrounded by encouraging, wise, giving, creative people who I can call on when working on a project or when struggling to figure out something. With the list lengthy, the top spot goes to my wonderfully supportive and patient husband Darrell Hyatt. Without him, I wouldn’t be where I am today.

(By the way, I love the mission of The Badass Project! Check it out.)

Karen Putz asked, “What’s on your bucket list?”

Great question. One that made me stop to think. Here’s what comes to mind initially:

• Do the zipline trek at Whistler
• Try sit-skiing
• Climb the stairs at Philadelphia Museum of Art with the spirit of Rocky Balboa
• Transverse the Sydney Bridge in Australia
• Write another book or two
• Get off of social assistance once and for all (in the good way)

No doubt this list will grow with more time and more thought.

Your turn: What would you like to ask? Your question might become fodder for a future post.

Venturing beyond one’s comfort zone leads to experiencing new adventures, discovering new talents or skills, and to meeting new people. Expanding and going beyond one’s comfort zone is one way to truly live life to it’s fullest and to discover one’s full potential and capabilities.

And I am all for it!

But is there a limit to how far one should venture from the point of comfort? Is there a point at which venturing out of bounds is unsafe, unwise? Is that comfort zone there for a reason?

Yes, in recent years, I have found my way to Harpo Studios, ziplined across Robson Square, and toured Washington DC solo. However, in each case, I had taken steps for a successful outcome:

• Using Google Maps at the most detailed level, I studied the route from Hotel 71 to Harpo Studios. I was prepared to abort the trip if I felt unsafe at any point. And, in fact, I did alter my route when the sidewalk became impassable and when the area felt less than desirable.
• When climbing the eighty-one stairs to the zipline, the three of us took our time; I trusted my friends. I also trusted the company running the zipiine; this was their business and they would take all safety measures necessary to protect it. Rationally I knew I was safe, even though I was terrified as I sat down on the platform before leaping off into nothingness.
• Before exploring Washington for four hours, I again studied Google Maps in great detail. And, although I didn’t put my theory to the test, I sensed yelling "Bomb!" would garner much more attention than required.

Despite similar preparation for my last trip, I felt unexplainably uneasy, scared; I even emailed my Mom that I was terrified (not the best thing to say in an email before leaving on a "foreign" trip).

Why did this trip feel so far out of my comfort zone?

I don’t know.

Perhaps it was because I was traveling alone and I realize that, as a woman with a significant physical disability, I am a vulnerable target for an assault. That is my fear, always.

Perhaps it was because the trip was three-legged – from here to Austin to San Diego and back home again – and two of those legs meant changing planes. There was more opportunity for something to go wrong.

Perhaps it was because a friend said she wouldn’t recommend that any woman stay at the motel I had booked. (At the end of my stay she realized she was thinking about the wrong motel).

Perhaps it was because of something else.

I don’t know.

But I had that feeling before I had the accessibility issues in Austin, before I missed my flight and had to unexpectedly spend the night in Phoenix, and before I had to take a taxi alone late at night in an unfamiliar city.

Was my fear my imagination running wild? Or was it trying to tell me something, to protect me from something?

How far can one safely venture from one’s comfort zone?