Because there's no substitute for time

One day in 1948, an amateur Swiss mountaineer and naturalist, George de Mestral, went on a nature walk with his dog through a field of hitchhiking bur plants. He and his dog returned home covered with burs. With an intense curiosity, Mestral went to his microscope and inspected one of the many burs stuck to his pants. He saw numerous small hooks that enabled the seed-bearing bur to cling so tenaciously to the tiny loops in the fabric of his pants. George de Mestral raised his head from the microscope and smiled thinking, "I will design a unique, two-sided fastener, one side with stiff hooks like the burs and the other side with soft loops like the fabric of my pants. I will call my invention Velcro® a combination of the words velour and crochet. It will rival the zipper in it's ability to fasten."

If it weren't for those pesky burs that have been uncomfortably present on anyone's clothing who has ever spent time outdoors, we'd not have the invention of velcro. Velcro! What an idea.

 I spend my days teaching older folks who have succumb to a disability or acute illness how to compensate, adapt and return to living functionally. Everyone has a different perspective of what that means. I love the idea of making life easier so each and every one of my patients can return to a life that is full of dignity, quality, and meaning. But, wouldn't you know, that before these adaptations and strategies for increasing the ease of a difficult transition can be made, things have to be hard. Really, really hard. Scary, in fact. Hopeless, if you will.

In order for something as purposeful as velcro to be dreamed upon, there first had to be a struggle. . a reason for change.  Cockleburs. Those wretched seeds have attached and relentlessly held on to my mis-matched socks as if they were an invited guest that I would be dismayed to see leave.

Circa 1997, I was the most awkward human being that had ever existed, up until that point. Seriously, ask anyone (especially my older brother). I carried around my little boom box with attached microphone and begged my dad to make videos of me  (while wearing my LA Gear light up shoes, gymnastics leotards, and a hair do we won't talk about) so I could send them to Good Morning America, and somehow, that would lead me to meeting and starting a band with Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen. 

Bitterness, resentment and unmasked dismay come across each lobe of my brain (maybe only the frontal, but let's be dramatic for a moment) when I recognize the struggles that I spend time tending to (or trying to compensate for). Instead of thinking of a solution, a change, a better way to overcome and move forward, I tend to create a task list of ways to turn non-sense, negative thoughts in to party guests of which love to surround me with their company. It's only natural, you know, because our brains must have activity, something to maintain them. I've heard that (some) people enjoy watching scary movies/books because when your mind experiences fear, there is no other emotion able to squeeze in alongside that fear. I'll attest to that same principle with regards to being around dogs/animals who aren't snakes takes away the possibility to accompany sadness. 

The burs of our minds most assuredly spend time attaching, relentlessly,  to the places we are most vulnerable. Jealousy towards another, fears of unfaithfulness, dishonesty in all varieties, and un-explainable anxiety are those pesky attachments that live inside our dear brains and won't let go until a compensatory strategy to override them has been developed. Just like our barnacled friends in nature (Xanthium---aka burs), until we've created a strategy to make something beneficial out of something dreadful and seemingly useless, it will remain. 

"You're not a tree. If you don't like something, move. Change."

When I/we choose to resist changing ways of doing/being because we aren't comfortable with vulnerability, we choose to continue hosting parties for pesky burs that serve us a purpose for only so long. Can I tell you how many times in my 30 years I have been questioned as to why I won't/can't change a difficult habit? No. I can't tell you because I come from a gene pool who only knows of stubbornness as a way of living. So, it's quite possibly unfathomable the amount of time I have spent taking the hard road because it's certainly in my DNA and that's entirely too much biology to discuss and unravel. 

I can tell you this: the most amazing, wonderful, self-less, and loving human beings and experiences I've come in contact with have happened because something in side of me decided to become tougher than the circumstances that seemed damn near impossible to walk through, over, in to and around (ending that sentence in a list of prepositions is going to be me overcoming the anxiety of incorrect grammar). I keep learning that no matter what or who happens, I'm always here. I have to keep taking care of me because I might could help change someone's negative and scared mind....just as so many precious people continue to change mine.

Happiest of weeks,

Cortney