TL;DR: Between highways, workshops, a memorial ride, and honest conversations, I felt a shift this week. I am choosing presence over performance, clarity over guessing, and standing in my truth while allowing others to stand in theirs.

TSN 26.7: "On Standing in My Truth"

Hiya

I covered a lot of miles this week...

Between last Monday and tomorrow, I will have driven 1,200+ miles... from Northern California to San Diego to El Segundo to Marin to Lodi to Petaluma and - tomorrow - back to Pasadena. Long stretches of highway, steady speed, time to think without interruption. 

Yeah… my calves tighten from sitting; my lower back reminds me that even forward motion has a cost.

Early this week, I stood before more than forty senior leaders across the Air National Guard to facilitate a workshop on connective coherence. The room was full. The conversation was sharp. I could feel the collective focus.

I ran in the on-base 5K, earning some points toward the Commander’s Cup. My legs were tight but responsive. Something powerful happens when I line up at the start line. The rules are simple. Run. Finish. High-five my friends.

Last Thursday, I facilitated five programs at Vandenberg. We talked about Generative AI. Relationship building. Leader development. Different rooms, different energy. In one session, nearly one hundred seats were set for a 2-hour program I had spent weeks preparing.

At the start time, there were two of us. Me and a captain.

We looked at each other, assessed the situation, and leaned toward the opportunity. What I had built for a large group shifted into a one-to-one conversation. We each brought a project we were working on. We each named what felt stuck.

We each listened.

I left that room proud. Not because of scale. Because of presence.

On Saturday, I rode twenty miles with the Stockton Bicycling Club in a memorial ride for my brother-in-law’s father, Bennie, who was struck and killed by a vehicle while cycling last month.

The ride began in the town where he was known as an athlete. Riding through those streets felt surreal. I ride nearly one hundred miles each week, often alone. Being on those roads, knowing he had also been riding alone, brought a quiet awareness of how temporary this all is.

After the ride, I served as the video crew for the celebration of life. I filmed the stories. I captured the pauses. Later, I edited the footage into a video for the family. There is something intimate about holding a camera while people speak about someone they loved.

Throughout the week, people asked about my mom.

• “How is she?”
• “How is your sister?”
• “How are things?”

I have started answering THEIR questions with one of my own.

“What is the real question?”

Every time, they pause. And, the question shifts.

“How are you doing with all of this?”

When we go there, I feel something change in my body. I feel alive. I feel my attention settle. The conversation becomes real. I am not performing an update. 

I am speaking from where I stand.

There is also a kind of vindication in it. I work in environments where we talk about giving objective feedback and having real conversations. Yet we often circle around what matters. When someone asks me the real question and waits for the answer, it feels honest.

Advocacy has been close to the surface for me lately.

There is what I hope for in my mom’s recovery. There is what she wants for herself. There are places where those overlap. 

And, there are places where they do not.

I feel that tension in my abdomen. Not dramatic. Just present.

I have always walked a line in my relationship with her. When I was younger, I left home to get out of a toxic and physically dangerous environment in that home. At that time, I could not protect her, nor could I be there in a way that changed the situation. (My first TEDx talk was about what I learned from that part of my history).

That part of me does not shout. It sits quietly, in the background, informing the present.

As I reflect on decisions and conversations about her care over the past 7 months and three weeks, I notice the old instinct to anticipate what (I think) others might want from me. To intuit expectations before they are spoken. To act in a way that ensures I have done the right thing.

This week, I felt a shift.

If someone wants something from me, it is on them to tell me. If they do not say it, I am not responsible for guessing. I can choose based on the information I have, in good faith, and let that be enough. I’m asking everyone… family, friends, colleagues, and my bosses, “Please, let me know what you think. I need the feedback.”

That does not remove the tension between what I hope for and what my mom wants. It does not resolve the past. It does not make the future predictable.

I am standing in the truth of how I am being. I know that I am showing up with care. I know that I am not acting out of avoidance. I also accept that my truth and my mom’s truth are not the same.

Both coexist.

This week moved fast. I covered highways and runways, shared time in auditoriums and bike lanes, stood in the front of crowded rooms and nearly empty ones. Underneath all of it was a quieter movement. A narrowing toward what is real. A willingness to ask the real question. A willingness to hear the answer.

I am not trying to resolve everything. I am standing where I am.

Much love,

JW

PS: One last brag on my little sister... though she's taking a pay cut, she's stepping closer to her goal of working her dream job. We'll figure out funding as she continues caregiving for my mom...and managing our mama's caregivers, for us it's most important that she follow her dream!