"On Healing" May 2005

Posted on Mon, May. 16, 2005
A life lesson, courtesy of a 5-year-old
By Dan Gottlieb

Dear Sam,

Happy fifth birthday. In your five years, you have brought incredible joy to many people. Your beautiful smile, kind heart and unusual compassion attract people to you like a magnet.

And you have also been a source of much concern. When you were first diagnosed on the autism continuum at 18 months, you had stopped babbling and would spend long periods in what appeared to be dazed silence. When you got frustrated, you would hit your head on the floor. All of us were gravely worried about your future.

But with early interventions and therapies, you are not only speaking, but your vocabulary is almost up to normal. You still have some very rigid behaviors, which cause distress for you and your parents. But we are hopeful that with the right therapies we can help you.

Your fine motor skills are still pretty far from what we would like, but it's your incredible gross motor skills that taught me a very important lesson about life.

Your father has been telling me for months that you are a good little golfer. He even got you your own set of golf clubs. I was delighted when I heard how much you like the game. Your dad told me that he woke you up one Saturday and you said: "Dad, it's a beautiful day. Let's play golf!"

But when you and your father recently invited me to go on the golf course with you, I was overcome with emotion. That's because I had not been on a golf course since my accident 25 years ago.

Before I became a quadriplegic, I loved to play golf. Like you, my father taught me how to play, and it was our way of being close. It was the only way I could spend several hours alone with him.

After my accident, my grief about golf was so painful that I couldn't drive past a golf course without feeling tearful. So when you and your dad invited me, I felt a little uncomfortable. But mostly I was excited to see you play golf.

When we got on the course, I was relieved that I was able to navigate the turf in my wheelchair. And then I experienced all of the beauty of that environment. I had forgotten how wonderful a golf course smells and the magnificence of the manicured lawns dotted with sand traps that seem to go on forever.

Then I saw you put the ball down and take a swing. Your form was beautiful and you connected with the ball. I can't ever remember feeling such pride and gratitude. I was almost giddy with joy as we made our way down the fairway.

And then I began to think. I thought about how much I would love to be able to swing that club and feel the grass under my feet. Instantly I was overcome with great pain. If I had been alone, I would have wept.

In a few moments, I noticed you were taking a golf club out of your bag and I reminded myself where I was. Again I took in the grandeur, watched you hit the ball again and felt great joy.

Several minutes later, the old regrets returned. I remembered how I used to play golf and how the clubs felt in my hand. This time I felt grief. For the first time in years, I allowed myself to feel the loss and wish for something I could not have.

A few minutes later, you lofted the ball about 20 yards and all three of us applauded your accomplishment.

Sam, when I lived in the present moment with you, I felt great joy. And when my mind went to the past and to what I lost, I felt pain. When my mind went to the future and what I longed for, I also felt pain.

So many of us grown-ups suffer because we are trying to live the life we had or are trying to live the life we wish for. You reminded me that day that life is much easier when we live the life we have.

Posted on Mon, May 02, 2005
Too many youths get too little sleep
By Dan Gottlieb

Fifth-grade students aren't getting enough sleep, according to a poll of 200 children reported in the Journal of School Health. That finding was consistent with the observation of many of their teachers, who said students frequently yawned and complained of sleepiness. The study's author, Denise Amschler, a professor of physiology and health science at Ball State University, said elementary school children should be getting at least 10 hours of sleep a night.

We know that when children fail to get enough sleep, they perform poorly in school. And, like adults, they become irritable or withdrawn. This can affect grades, peer relationships and self-esteem.

Young children who are sleep-deprived can also show symptoms of agitation and distractibility - symptoms that look very much like attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. Many children on medication for attention deficit disorder and ADHD are really sleep-deprived. Unfortunately, the stimulants prescribed for ADD help keep a child awake and focused, so the cycle continues.

And it's not just younger children who are sleep-deprived. Most adolescents complain of sleep deprivation. That's because the brain goes through a cycle in adolescence that requires more sleep than it did before puberty.

Our children are overstimulated. So much so that according to the study, almost two-thirds of the children who were asked reported that they had difficulty falling asleep. It's no wonder they can't sleep; many of these children have computers, video games or television sets in their bedroom.

Last year I taught a course on communication and compassion for adolescents and their parents. We began each lecture with a period of mindfulness meditation. Most of the parents loved it, but the children were unable to close their eyes, let alone calm their minds. They later told me that relaxation to them is listening to loud music while they are instant messaging several friends. Nobody can sleep when the brain is moving at that rapid pace.

Whenever I speak with groups of children, especially in the suburbs, their primary complaint is of constant pressure to perform. They try to meet the very high expectations of schools, peers, parents and themselves. They say that the stress is relentless. They live with multiple performance pressures, including standardized tests and unreasonable amounts of homework. Even their extracurricular activities are geared more toward performance than pleasure. And the problem goes beyond just sleep.

We know our children don't eat very well. Very few report having family meals even a couple of times a week. And a high school student recently told me that lunch period was optional in her school. She said she doesn't want to take the time to eat, so she eats a candy bar between classes.

We know our children live under stress, and we know that intentionally or not, we contribute to it. But do we know how? Most parents have a vision of what they would like to see their children accomplish in their lifetimes. That vision inevitably includes material and social success. We want our children to have lives of safety and security. But that's our vision, not theirs. Our wish for them could wind up restricting their lives rather than enhancing them.

A lawyer near retirement told me that when he was in high school, his father told him to get good grades so he could get into an Ivy League school. So he did. Then, he said, his father told him that if he made dean's list, he could get into one of the better law schools. So he did. Finally, his father said that if he made law review, he would be offered a well-paying job in a prestigious law firm. And he did. As he concluded his story, looking sad and tired, he said: "Now I have my Mercedes-Benz and my Shore house, but I don't know whose life I've been living."

A father's dream. A son's burden.

Summer is coming. Let's try to switch gears, slow down, sleep more, eat better, and take time to listen to our children's dreams for their lives.

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