2014: A Sea-Change

Warning: This essay will assuredly be somewhat vague, rambly, and/or jumbled. I’ve tried and tried to make it clearer and more artistic-like.  I even thought at one point, for a more lighthearted route, of writing it as a poem made entirely of clichés (because there are plenty of them in here anyways). But it just didn’t work out. These are my thoughts as best I can muster them.  This is how my mind goes.  Call it a diary entry, if you must.

December 18, 2014.  Yesterday, I received my year-end performance review at work.  It was better than expected, and came right on the heels of what were a couple of pretty darn good days due to powerful conversations with multiple people; one of those life-affirming kind of weeks.  The combination got me thinking about how 2014 was shaping up to end on a very positive note, which then prompted me to look back through my Google calendar and see how it all went down.

Wow.

2014 was quite a year indeed.

It’s hard to believe and wonderful to remember all the fun and exciting things we did….parties, shows, festivals, trips, random get-togethers, weddings, movies, concerts (one of which I even performed in!), general hanging with friends, races, classes, reunions, and more. I am thankful and lucky to be able to say that we squeezed all of that in and I would never have enough time to list every single one of the awesome things we did or name all of the excellent people we experienced them with.  Besides, that’s not the stuff that this writing is about.

One of the shows we saw was the American Repertory Theater’s production of William Shakespeare’s The Tempest --  the play in which the term “sea-change” was born.  That’s what this writing is about: my personal sea-change of 2014.

Because in addition to all the fun and exciting parts of 2014, other segments were very serious and even scary.  There were lots of ups and downs, lessons learned, changes, heavy decisions, introspection, reflection, and growth.  It wasn’t easy.  In fact, it was grueling; definitely the hardest year of my life that I can remember.  But it was necessary and in the end, very, very good for me -- which also makes it my greatest year ever (so far).

Why?

Because I learned. so. much.

Specifically over the past three-to-four hundred days, starting from mostly not at all, to more and more, to dare I say kind of frequently: I practiced better communication skills.  I became more present in my mind and more comfortable in my own body than I ever was before.  I dared to be vulnerable.  I demanded authenticity and respect from myself and those around me.   I looked inward.  I found ways to identify what I wanted and needed and spoke up for that.  I developed perspective.  I grew. I let myself be loved. I learned how to be a better friend and family member.  How to reach out, be proactive; not sit back and wait.  I got brave.  I changed.  Then today, I bought a Christmas gift for my mother.

I feel like I just….get it, now.  Life.  Finally.

Am I done transforming?  Hell no.  I’m not sure anyone ever should be.  There’s always more to do. Plus it’s still uncomfortable sometimes, being this new me -- and I don’t always succeed at it.  But not so much so that I’m going to quit.  I am far better off than I ever was before.  I am happy.  And I feel much more calm, grounded, centered, focused.

The immediate goal now is to keep it up.  Build confidence.  And give more trust.

I can never sufficiently thank all of the people who helped and supported me, taught me, picked me up when I was down, showed me different and better ways, set me straight when I needed it, offered advice, pushed me out of my comfort zone, and gave me ideas to think deeply about even if it was just by posting a link on Facebook.  A lot of them probably don’t even know that they played a part, and that I can only say these words because of them.  Whether they know for sure that I have them in mind right now, or maybe aren’t quite certain, and whether their role was monstrously large or even just a fleeting moment….I am and will forever be grateful and proud and humbled to know them.

My world is infinitely better at the end of 2014 than it was at the beginning.  I look forward to carrying the high I am ending it on into 2015 and beyond.  I encourage you to look back at your year, too, and reflect on all you did, all you learned, and all you hope to bring with you into the future.

I want to dedicate this post, above all others, to Jason, without whom I couldn't have made it through. He taught me the most, picked me up the most, and…let's just say it, dealt with me the most. This year was hard. Those words, however, rhyme with something else I've been unable to get out of my head the entire time I was drafting, writing, and rewriting this essay. For all 2014 was worth, the good, the bad, and the ugly, Matt Nathanson said not that this year was hard, but rather that "this year was ours…I felt alive, for the first time in my life…Farewell December."

Robin Donoghue

The sly and trusty Robinator is a square peg – 

not fitting easily into any single category, living not just inside and outside of the box, 

but all mixed up in a pile of them. She’s a walking contradiction  (in the good way) – 

having a wide, diverse range of interests, not being defined by any one thing, 

and willing to try pretty much anything at least once. 

Born and raised in Somerville, this lifelong athlete, foodie who almost always ends up with 

pasta sauce on her (especially when it’s white) shirt, mother of two cats, free-spirited hippie at heart whose socks never match, is socially awkward, yet a flirt, too.  She enjoys photography, traveling, generally being creative, and practically requires having pockets.  When she grows up, she wants to get an RV and be a nomad with her dear husband, or live on a self-sustaining 

intentional community with all the best people she knows and loves.

Moment of Impact, Part II

My case worker at MGH wanted to send me to Spaulding Rehab to continue my physical & occupational therapy. However, my mother fought on my behalf for me to go to one outside of Boston, closer to home and easier for me to have frequent visitors.  

They decided to send me to HealthSouth (currently New England Rehab) on the Woburn/Winchester line.  Having previously worked at the 99 Restaurant nearby, I knew exactly where I was headed.  The EMTs that were in charge of transferring me to the rehab facility were a great pair of people.  They made me as comfortable as possible, which was difficult considering all I could move without serious issue was my right arm and my head.  

We got to talking on the ride and I had mentioned, in passing, that I had worked at the 99 Restaurant down the road from the rehab facility for a few years and had just recently been transferred to another location due to a promotion.  

I didn’t think anything of it when the ambulance started to slow down.  One of the EMTs had gotten out and a few minutes passed by.  I had never been in this situation before, so I assumed that she was just prepping to get me into the rehab facility.  

When she opened the doors in the back of the ambulance, I could barely lift my head. Remembering what I saw is making my eyes water as I type this.  We were in the parking lot of the Four Corners 99 Restaurant, my old work.  There was a line of people waiting to see me. Line cooks, servers, bartenders, prep cooks, dishwashers, managers & even some regular guests that I knew, had one by one been allowed into the ambulance with me. Some laughed with me, some cried with me, some did both at the same time.  They all expressed their well wishes for a speedy recovery, gratefulness that I had made it thru & support on anything that I would need going forward.  I used to joke with my fellow restaurant workers that I’ve been involved in some long ticket times in a restaurant, but that one took the cake.

I wish I remembered the names of those EMTs, I would love to be able to thank them to this day for that.  

Don't miss out on Moment of Impact, Part I

Paul Dube

Host of The Sports Den & Chef at Smokey Bones.

Defiant by will.  A true life miracle by every other standard.  

Moment of Impact, Part 1

Did you ever think that running into someone from your past would start out like “Wow, I heard you died”?  

Thankfully, I haven’t heard that in years, but before MySpace, Facebook & Twitter, word of mouth was really the only thing people had to go on.  From the time I started writing this, it’s been 13 years, 9 months, 1 week & 1 day since that almost became a reality. Approximately 7.2 million seconds ago, something happened to me that has literally effected every day since, and will continue to until my last breath.  Some of you may know the story, others may know parts of it.  I’ve always wanted to get this “on paper” so to speak.  Not really sure why, but now that I have the opportunity to do so, here goes nothing.

It was Friday, February 9th, 2001, I was working as an hourly supervisor in the kitchen at the 99 Restaurant in Danvers, MA.  We lived in Woburn at the time & my parents were up at a friend’s house in Maine for the weekend, so Cyndi & I were going to enjoy an empty house like any normal 22 yr old couple would…  I left work around 10 or so, heading 128 southbound.  The last thing I remember to this day was driving, nothing special, listening to music as I always do.  

The accident was the result of a drunk driver.  The man was driving south on 128, hit one of the ramp signs & spun out, facing north.  He was so loaded (2.5x the legal limit in MA) that he started to drive the wrong way on 128.  I was driving a 2001 Plymouth Neon and he hit the front quarter panel on my side, sending me across all four lanes. Apparently there was a nurse a few cars behind us & she pulled over to keep me with it until help arrived.  I was med-flighted to MGH and had to have 128 shut down to allow this to occur.  Some people I know were actually stuck in that traffic that night, as weird as that sounds.

Next thing I remember after that was waking up to a nurse (or doctor) standing over me.  The lights pierced my eyes, like when you wake up and the sun shines on you for the first time.  The next few hours/days is, between going thru withdrawals from some heavy pain meds & numerous panic attacks, a blur.  I remember hearing that I was in a really bad car accident.  Bad enough that I was lucky to be alive.  Bad enough that I was in a medically induced coma for around 3 weeks.  Bad enough that I have zero recollection of any of it… still.  I only know what was told to me by the staff at MGH, my family & my lawyer

I broke my left elbow, needed a plate to keep that together, which I had removed the following year. The lower part of right leg was shattered & the upper part of my left leg had a break in it as well.  Both needed metal rods to heal.  I lost my spleen & needed a graph on my descending aorta.  I was told the severity of my injuries & how the chances of a full recovery were slim.  Docs told me that I may need assistance walking for a long time, cold and damp weather would cause pain & that my cooking career had more than likely come to an end due to the stress on a chef’s legs.  

I had a great support system, my family & Cyndi rarely left my side, and my 2 best friends visited often, bringing things to make my stay better. I was in such a mental funk, depression maybe, who knows. When I was alone, I wanted company. When I had company, I didn’t want to have visitors.  I’d never been so helpless in my life & it’s a horrible feeling.  I remember feeling pity for myself for a few days, asking why this had happened to me, what had I done to deserve all that had gone on.  I can’t pinpoint when that pity faded, but I started to feel lucky to be alive.  I knew the road was going to be a long one, but I couldn’t let some doctor tell a stubborn kid from Somerville that I wasn’t going to be able to do something.  Anyone that really knows me understands that I’ve never done well with people telling me that I can’t do something.  Call it being defiant if you will, it’s gotten better with age & maturity, but to this day, I still credit that defiance for being a catalyst for me to start the road to recovery

I was to be sent to a rehab hospital to stay there until I was well enough to go home, however, how efficient that “well” was going to be was up in the air.  Little did I know, that ride from MGH to the rehab was going to show me the biggest act of kindness by a group of people that I had ever seen…

(To be continued)

Paul Dube

Host of The Sports Den & Chef at Smokey Bones.

Defiant by will.  A true life miracle by every other standard.