The Magic Life Ratio

Highly esteemed therapist, researcher, author and all around relationship guru John Gottman developed a predictor for relationship success which he calls the Magic Relationship Ratio.  He can predict if couples will stay together or not by measuring their ratio of positive interactions (or "good stuff") to negative interactions. If they can average a 5:1 positive to negative ratio then they are likely to last!

I took comfort in learning about this ratio back in grad school because if you will remember from my previous blog about my husband (Appreciating My Husbands P-ness), we were not the most compatible of couples - at least not on paper - and we fought quite a bit. But according to Gottman fighting isn't the problem, an out of whack ratio is the problem.  So couples who fight can be very happy as long as they have five times more positive interactions to balance it out. Phew!

5 good for every 1 bad. The Magic Relationship Ratio.

Recently I sat down at my computer to write what I realized after a few minutes was yet another rant about a negative interaction that had occurred while out in public with Julia - as I was working myself up over reliving my frustrating encounter with an ignorant person, I caught myself and wondered, "Why is this the story am I writing?  Why am I giving this interaction attention but not the other really awesome thing that happened today while we were out in public? Why does the one negative feel so much bigger than the one positive?"

The ratio.

Could Gottman's brilliant hypothesis about a successful and stable relationship also be applicable to life in general?

Is there perhaps a Magic Life Ratio?  And if so was mine out of whack?

Had the ratio of positives to negatives between myself and life slipped to below 5:1 without me recognizing it? Were the negatives piling on faster than my sweet little positives could manage?

My ratio needed some attention ASAP - but what does that mean? How can this help me rather than make me feel worse? What do I do now?

Well, to be clear - the ratio is not to make us feel like victims or justify acting like victims.  We should not sit back in relationships OR life and say to ourselves, "Well, three crummy things happened to me this morning so I guess my life stinks until 15 good things magically occur."  Ummm, no.   You may feel like that in certain moments (I know I have) but behaving in that way will not help your case.

It's not about being a victim of what happens to you. It's about being aware of this concept and this human need so you can be proactive.

Recognizing I was in a life ratio deficit actually empowered me to do something about it. I reached out to the people in my life who I knew would help get me back in balance. And it worked!  I needed positives, I generated positives, my ratio was restored and no one got punched. Success!

(By the way, positives don't have to come solely from other people - we can add to our positive column in a ton of different ways, what makes you feel better? Do that.)

So two things I guess about this whole Magic Life Ratio idea:

One, being aware of and proactive about our own ratio can help make life less painful.

And two, we are all contributing to someone else's ratio in one way or another.  We are either building up the positives or draining them down.

That makes us very powerful.
Everything we do matters.

How then, shall we contribute?

Who Got the Deal?

In college, a friend at the time taught me an awful game called "Who Got the Deal" where you basically judge couples solely on appearance and decide who between them got the deal.

(Awful, I know! Feel free to scorn my 19 year old self, she deserves it.)

Anyway, we would sit in the plaza in between classes and judge people.

"He totally got the deal."
"Oh man, she got the deal, how'd she manage that?"
"Does she know she got the deal?"
"Does he know she got the deal?" and on, and on...

Sometimes we couldn't decide who got the deal and we considered those relationships a good match, they may even last! We also believed from the analysis of our research that the best possible relationship scenario is one in which both people think they got the deal.

"I'm so lucky to have you" + "I'm so lucky to have you" = Happy Couple  
Wood, L., et al. (1999, May 5)

~~~~~~~~~~~

There is a common compliment given to parents of kids with special needs that goes something like;
"I don't know how you do it."  "I could not do it." "God picked the right parents for Julia."  "God knew what he was doing when he made you her parents."  etc...

These are all meant well. The intent is to encourage and express admiration, I understand that - but they make me very uncomfortable and I know I am not the only special needs mom to feel this way.

They make us uncomfortable because what this type of compliment implies is that our child got the deal.
"Julia is so lucky to have you."  Julia got the deal.

We cannot just casually accept these compliments because nothing could feel further from the truth.

This little person came into my life and rocked my world - for the better. I was a little bit of an arrogant, ignorant, naive, judgmental (see story above), selfish, control freak before Julia.  And while I am still all of these flaws and more, I know I am getting better. And the turning point was Julia's arrival.

My best deal.

She changed everything.

My awareness increased, my compassion increased, my tolerance increased, my faith increased, my hope increased, my joy increased, my patience increased, my confidence increased, my humility increased and my judgement decreased - because of her.

God knew what he was doing FOR ME when he sent Julia to me.

If anyone is "lucky" it is me.

So just to be clear, and in case appearances suggest otherwise, in this relationship, in every single possible way, I SO GOT THE DEAL.

Rare Bird

Yesterday Jules and I took a walk over in the open space by our house.

We saw bunnies and prairie dogs and heard lots of birds chirping.  I'm not a bird person, but I think most of the birds we saw and heard were your normal, run of the mill black bird or small brown chirp, chirp, chirpy bird.

On our second lap we heard something different.  Not chirping but a coo. A soft gentle coo, coo. Not far from us just off the path was a small gray bird, close to the ground, about to land on a rock. It's wings were flapping like a humming bird but it was much bigger than a humming bird.When it settled on the rock I could see beautiful dark blue markings near it's wings, contrasting it's soft gray color. It continued it's soft cooing as we stopped to observe.  I'd never seen a bird like this before, it was different, it was beautiful!

"Julia, oh my goodness, this is a special bird! A very special bird. A rare bird.... Just like you! My little rare bird."

I wish this is how the world could see Julia and people like her. Special and unique and exquisite and rare.

Why is it we can see the beauty in other species: dogs, cats, birds, fish, bugs, plants - but not in our own?

Why is it that something rare and different among other species is considered exotic and valuable, but among our own is considered defective and wrong?

For other species we fight to protect and preserve the rare. But in our own we seem hell bent on killing them off. For many it is considered a positive thing to "catch" a difference early enough so that it can be "disposed" of.  And those we don't kill off in time, well then we spend the rest of their lives doing everything we can to force them into something closer to us, closer to your average chirp, chirp, chirpy "normal" bird.

My Rare Bird

Why?  Why can't a rare bird simply be a rare bird.

When people look at Julia with disgust (sadly it does happen), I want to say to them (well first I want to punch them, and then I want to say to them), "People, you have no idea what you are witnessing!  This is the rarest of the rare type of human.  Scientists believe there is only one like her in the whole world, possibly in all of history. You are among the lucky few in all mankind getting the chance to see such a rare specimen. Take her in. Watch how she moves and interacts, it's fascinating.  No, she won't make the same sounds as you do, but listen closely to her beautiful cooing, isn't that amazing."

There is so much to celebrate in the diversity of our species.

Why are we scared of the rare bird among us when we could be in awe?

Your Confused Face is an Ugly Face

This is a public service announcement: Your confused face is an ugly face.

Do me a favor.
Go stand in front of a mirror.
Now close your eyes and think of a time when something confused you. Or caught you off guard. Or threw you for a loop.
Channel that moment. Feel how your felt. Make the face you made in that moment.

Now open your eyes.

Yikes!  Not a pretty face right?  In fact kind of an ugly face.

How do I know this? No, it's not because I am spying on you through your mirror - I'll leave that to the government.

The reason I know this is because that is the face we see over and over and over again when we are out in public. A confused face that is in fact an ugly and unfriendly face.  So I'm on a mission to raise awareness that your confused face is an ugly face - and in doing so hopefully make the world a better place.

Imagine what it would be like walking through life if this was the face you saw every time you made eye contact with a stranger.

Disturbing right?

And then, as if that isn't bad enough, the person making their ugly face realizes they have been staring at you (or your child in our case) with their ugly face and they quickly attempt a recovery face - and it looks something like this:

Not much better. Actually maybe worse.

Honestly after seeing this face so many times, I want to just to go ahead and put a narrative to it for people. You might as well be saying with your blatant gawking ugly face: "My brain literally cannot comprehend what my eyes are seeing. A person who looks different or acts different???? What is this?  Where am I? Am I safe? This is so far beyond my realm of understanding my face has frozen from confusion and fear."

First of all - what year is this? Diversity has been a buzzword for more than a few decades now and I'm pretty sure wheelchairs have existed for longer than that - so these are not new things. If they are new to you, then you should consider getting out more.

Secondly, I realize I'm making an assumption here, but I feel that it is very likely that you who stare with such bewilderment at people who are different also have one of those fancy CO-EXIST bumper stickers on your bumper and are very proud of it. If that is true, and I know it may not be, but if it is true or you promote this coexist concept in some other way in your life, then maybe go meditate on the meaning of that concept you promote for awhile so that the next time you actually do bump in to diversity you don't freeze and become completely incapacitated by DIVERSITY.  Just a thought.

Third, for the sake of the children (okay, let's be honest, in our case it isn't even for the child, she doesn't see it thank God, in our case it's for me). For the sake of me, for parents like me and for the kids and adults who do see it and are sick of this being the face greeting us wherever we go, please work on your facial expressions!  You want to make a difference in the world, you want to make the world a kinder place? Master your face.

Sounds hard I know, but don't worry, I'm not going to give you that advice and leave you hanging. I am a helper! I want you to succeed.  And thanks to my seven years devotion to Tyra Bank's educational television program America's Next Top Model, I KNOW for a fact that it is indeed possible (with work) to master your facial expressions even when you feel something different on the inside! Thank you Tyra Banks for your contribution to the world.

So, with that good news in mind and a little help from Tyra, let's practice!
Next time you see something that confuses you:

It's not this.

It's this!

Try it!
It's hard, I know, but you can do it.

Let's try one more:
"I just saw something I wasn't expecting to see. What should I do with my face?"

It's not this.

Or this.

It's this!

Okay, got it? Great! I knew you could do it!  Now just practice this tutorial in front of the mirror for 3-4 hours a day and I promise you will be making the world a better place for families like ours!

Thus concludes this public service announcement.

Survival of the Cutest

Last week I posted a new video of Julia laughing on Facebook. I was quickly informed via a comment from a “friend” that she "must confess" she did not find Julia to be" quite as cute" in this latest posting...

Huh?

The comment was odd to say the least. Who says that, really?  But nonetheless, the comment was made and for as weird as it was and for as much as comments like that probably just need to be ignored and chalked up to the strangeness that is social media –  I find myself having a hard time letting it go.  And not because of the reasons you might think.  Yes, the comment was rude. No, you actually are not required to confess thinking someone’s child isn't looking quite so cute lately – you actually can (and should) keep that to yourself. No, the real reason I’m having a hard time letting it go is because it tapped into something very real to me, something I think about and worry over often.

What happens to Julia when the world doesn’t think she is cute anymore?

Hear me out. When people think you are cute they treat you better.  Cute is a shield. And while Julia will always be the cutest thing on the planet to those of us who love her, I am realistic enough to know that as she gets older her looks (like all kids) will change. She will get bigger, she may become awkward, and she will not be viewed as cute by the strangers she encounters.

And how will she be treated then? That's my concern.

I know the answer a little because the change has already started. The last time we checked into the hospital the nurses clearly treated Julia differently than in previous visits. She’s getting bigger and older and so rather than hear comments about her being “so cute” which is what we have usually heard, (which then behaviorally in our experience leads to being treated with patience and kindness), the nurse trying to get Julia’s vitals labeled her as “difficult” and seemed annoyed by the challenge Julia was presenting to her.  I distinctly remember thinking to myself in that moment that this is just a glimpse of what we have to look forward to when doctors and nurses no longer see Julia as cute and little but instead see her as a difficult challenge.

The world is a kinder place for those it deems cute.

And so I worry that the world will become less kind to Julia when little and cute aren’t the first things to be seen. I wonder if people will take the time to get to know her if they don’t immediately like what they see.  In truth it’s already hard now. We get strange looks or no looks at all when we are out in public so much so that my mom recently made Julia a shirt that says “I’m not invisible!”  If she needs that kind of shirt now at age six, I wonder how much more invisible will she become when she is (God willing) an older child or young adult and not so cute?

My biggest fear around this topic is that people will become less patient with Julia and less accommodating of the extra needs she does have and will continue to have if they aren't at first charmed by what they see.  Sometimes I want to ask the moms of older kids with special needs about this. Did you notice a change? Was there an age when people’s reaction to your child shifted, when their patience lessened?  Have we unknowingly been living in the easiest of years – and the harder years are yet to come? 

I want to ask, but I haven’t - maybe I don’t really want the answer confirmed.

It’s a sad reflection on our culture that this fear exists - but to be honest I'm afraid of this happening because I am guilty of doing it myself.

When I was 22 years old I decided to sponsor a child through Compassion International because a letter came to our house and inside the letter was a photograph of Gracie, the cutest 4 year old I had ever seen. The letter asked me “will you sponsor Gracie?”  And because I could not resist her cuteness I said “yes!” Two weeks later my intake packet arrived with a picture of my newly sponsored child - Yvonne.

Yvonne???  Ummm, where is Gracie?

Yvonne was not Gracie. Yvonne was not 4, Yvonne was not little and Yvonne was not particularly cute. Yvonne was not why I signed up to help.  Cute little Gracie was.

The intake letter explained Gracie had already been chosen so I had been matched with Yvonne, a child also in great need of sponsorship for the very same reasons as Gracie. But I remember thinking “I don’t realllllllly want to do this anymore... I really kinda just wanted to sponsor Gracie because she was really cute.” 

And then I remember realizing, “Wow, I am a complete jerk.”  And I wondered "Am I alone in my terribleness or are other people as terrible and shallow as me and Compassion International knows this and also knows they must use pictures of kids like Gracie to get sponsors for kids like Yvonne?"  Terrible.

I can only hope for my sweet Julia’s sake that most of the human race is NOT like the 22 year old version of myself.

Please, please, please people, be better than me!

I can only hope that I am wrong in my worries and fears, and that most people don’t treat others differently based on their looks or their size (or their age or their abilities).

I can only hope that most people aren’t so shallow as to decide how much love, patience, help, kindness and grace another person deserves based on how pleasing their appearance is.

I can only hope that most people do not measure the worth of another in cuteness but in humanness.

I can only hope...but I do worry. 

She's Not Sad

Yesterday after our church service, Wes and I picked Julia up from Sunday school class, put her in her wheelchair and started down the long hallway back out to the common area.

As we passed the first grade classroom a little girl waiting in the hallway pointed at Julia and loudly said "Look at that girl in the wheelchair. That's SO SAD!"

Before my brain could register what to do, my legs took over and I walked straight up to that little girl, bent down to look her in the eye and said, "No, no, no she's not SAD!!!! She's happy! She's a very happy girl!"

Wes fabulously followed my lead by rolling Julia up behind me so the little girl could get a closer look. "This is Julia," he said, "did you see the cool wheels on her chair? They light up!"  The little girl looked at Julia's wheels as Wes spun Jules around and nodded hesitantly. By this time her parents were paying attention, probably wondering why strangers were harassing their daughter. "Oh, they do light up," her mom said, "how cool!"

I asked the little girl her name. I told her we were so happy to meet her and Julia was happy to meet her!  I also thanked her for noticing Julia and talking to us (that might not have exactly been her intention, but that was my reframe because I do appreciate when people see Julia and acknowledge her).  I ended with saying again, "We are so glad to meet you and tell you about our happy, happy girl. She is not sad at all!!!"

I'm not sure if I made a positive impact on the world with that intervention yesterday or scarred a small child for the rest of her life, I hope the former.  It was just one of those moments I couldn't let pass.  I spotted the little girl before she spoke, she was staring at Julia and I could tell she was going to say something, when she pointed her finger at Julia and said "look at that girl in the wheelchair" I just figured I would smile and wave, but when she added the "that's SO SAD" part I was completely taken aback. It's just not accurate. And I couldn't leave it uncorrected.

I don't in any way blame this little first grader for saying what she said - she clearly has been taught from someone in her life, maybe even with good intention - that being in a wheelchair is sad, or being different is sad and that pity is the right emotion to feel when you see someone like Julia.

But nothing could be farther from the truth.

Julia isn't sad. Julia doesn't make us sad. Nothing about our lives with Julia is sad. She is a joy!

We don't want her to be different. We don't wish for a different version of her. We want her, exactly as she is, wheelchair and all!

We celebrate Julia! And she celebrates life to the fullest! She embraces the moment like no one I know! She is joyful, she is silly, she is spunky, she is busy.  There is no room for sad in all that amazingness!!!

The message that people with special needs are sad has to be corrected, not only because it is wrong but because it perpetuates isolation and bias. When we think something is sad, we stay away. When we pity someone we are actually thinking of ourselves as better than that person. Pity and sadness are barriers to being curious, being interested, being involved and being changed.

Please don't pity Julia, ADMIRE HER!
And get to know her, you won't be sad you did!

Meet me in Holland

Emily Kingsley's poem Welcome to Holland is standard reading for any special needs parent. Upon diagnosis 58 people will immediately forward you this poem.

It's a beautiful poem describing what it is like when you find out your child has special needs by using the metaphor of planning a trip to Italy but landing in Holland. We grieve our plans for Italy while we learn to love the wonderful things about Holland.

I really do love this poem.
There is just one thing that doesn't work for me:
We still land in Italy.

Our itinerary has changed and our guidebooks are no longer relevant - but make no mistake we are still very much in Italy.

And in Italy we are surrounded by all the other tourists whose trip is still going as planned, and who still believe trips go as planned.

They see us but can't understand the shell shocked expression on our faces because hey, we all landed in Italy!   Salute!

Sometimes I wish I actually was in Holland with all the other displaced would-be Italian tourists like myself. Sometimes I think that would be easier. Easier than the lonely Holland bubble we now move through Italy within, bumping into one another once in awhile as we navigate Italian roads with our obsolete maps.

In Holland we would be together. All of us feeling lost, but lost together, so not alone.  Belonging now to each other in our new status of not belonging.

Our expressions of confusion and grief would be mirrored in the faces of our fellow refugees, along with astonishment and wonder as we each learn to find our footing and take in the unexpected landscape.

Sometimes we might still talk about Italy. We might once in awhile share what we had planned and say to each other "Oh that sounds nice..." but it would just be a memory of a plan - not reality playing out before us each and every day.

"Holland has tulips."

In Holland we would be the norm.

And Tulips and Rembrandt's wouldn't stand out for being different, they would just stand out for being beautiful.