Part 7 - Guardrails
We’ve been fortunate in the last few years to drive thousands of miles in our Toyota 4Runner, a large SVU. Naturally, we named her Betty White. Two particular drives come to mind when I think about safety.
Going to the Sun road in Glacier National Park, and Independence Pass between Aspen and Buena Vista in Colorado’s Rocky Mountains. These roads are the kind of windy that remind you of roller coasters. As the driver on each I could feel the trepidation of passengers going around the bends. On both, for about an hour, you’re passing through dense forest, then onto spectacular vistas. The switchbacks are collections of hairpin turns.
And on each of these passes there are significant sections without guardrails. You don’t realize the comfort of a thin guardrail until it disappears into the rearview.
Anyways, I’m thinking about guardrails this morning (our 13th abroad) because we need them. Twice this week I heard underhanded comments from Addie about how crazy we must be for being here. Once she texted me, “I’m just freaking out about having left our place with room for a baby to come here.” And once to a dear friend, “As someone who loves the outdoors and wide open spaces, it’s ironic I was okay with moving to a city in Europe.”
It’s okay to take comfort in guardrails. It’s healthy to want them around. But the reality is that sometimes they can’t be installed on the road you’d like to travel. If we only journeyed where construction crews could work, we wouldn’t have driven through Glacier National Park for our honeymoon. We wouldn’t have driven Independence Pass as a fun adventure for my parents’ anniversary. We certainly wouldn’t have decided to move across an ocean “just for a professional opportunity.”
But we loved the drives, when the scary parts were over. We were always glad we chose to trek. So I suppose this is a love note directly for you, Addie. We’re just on a little bit of a longer drive, on a little bit of a windier stretch of road, making our way slowly (and as safely as we can) to the next vista. We’re in our family vehicle, rolling right along. There isn’t a shoulder to pull off on quite yet. We have to keep going. But we can install some emotional guardrails to ease the way.
- Guardrail #1: Take care of your physical needs.
Apparently there’s a simple algorithm for dealing with crying baby. 1 Is it hungry? Is it wet? Does it need rest? Does it need stimulation? Does it need isolation? You just cycle through the list and, apparently, you’ll solve the current crisis. I don’t know anything about babies, yet, but I suspect that adults aren’t that different.
When you’re hungry, eat a snack. Before you get thirsty, stay hydrated. Walk as much as you can. Sleep as well as you can, with eyemask on and sound machine sloshing.
- Guardrail #2: Reach for gratitude.
Practice gratitude daily. It’s scary to drive into the wilderness. Every time we reached a destination, we’d massage Betty’s dash and celebrate having her. We’d praise her. And we had confidence she could deliver us safely because we’d taken good care of her. We’ve taken good care of each other. The vehicle of our family will carry us safely to the bottom of this particular pass. Trust it. Celebrate it. And remember that we have the equivalent of AAA to call if something unforeseeable happens.
- Guardrail #3: Remember that, as troubling as it may be, you can’t possibly know what’s going to happen next.
Part of your current struggle is that you imagine everything as it might have been had we decided to stay home instead of flying over here. This is a mirage. Your mom experienced a traumatic surprise when she lost her mom. My parents experienced a traumatic surprise at the birth of their first kiddo. None of us knows what tomorrow will bring. So we prepare and deal with what comes the best we can. Here or there.
This entire experience is designed to make us better at moving and adapting, together, as a family. The idea is to build ourselves into the family that will thrive in 99% of our potential futures.2 I did the math and believe that through this experience, our futures (and those of our kids) are more likely to be brighter.
Today’s the 25th anniversary of the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. You reminded me of a play you once saw called Come From Away, about travelers diverted to Nova Scotia in the midst of the chaos.3 Some of them met in a far-off town they never meant to visit and got married. I’m sure others had a different experience.
Do you think those folks had any idea what the day held when they headed for the airport? I’d rather be the folks who turned that horrible day into the beginning of something spectacular than the folks who complained about the inconvenience or stressed about where they were supposed to be instead.
We are here. Let’s make the most of it.
Guardrail #4: Take care of your feelings.
Your feelings are valuable information.4 They alert us to problems that needs solved. Mind them. When you can work, work. When you can’t work, rest. When you have to work even though it’s hard, seek help.
When you’re restless, actively change the vibe. If you need help thinking of things to do that might help, check out The Comfort Book by Matt Haig.5
On to the next.