If you’re a client, a friend or somebody who has been following me for a while, you’ve probably heard me say that I firmly believe we all have two lives. The second one begins when we realize we only have one.
To be clear, this is my story. I’m not here to compare my life to anyone else’s, and we all face different struggles and different demons. What I hope you will take away from this, is simply to recognize that we are all unique in our struggles, but each of us has the same ability to decide to make meaningful changes in our life.
During each chapter of my early career, a lot of my success and effectiveness hinged on me trusting no-one, from expecting the person across from me was actively looking to deceive or do harm, or was at least working their own agenda and had their own ulterior motives. The only viable path to my success was to never let anybody get too close. It worked perfectly for the tasks or jobs I needed to get done, it worked to insulate against disappointment or other negative feelings and emotions. And, it worked for a wandering life with no roots, no deep connections anywhere or with anyone.
I was approaching 40, fully accepting I was past the age at which I’d want to have kids when it happened. A woman who had been a dear friend suddenly became more. She was all the things I had convinced myself were the deal-breakers and the definition of not a match for me. And yet, somehow, she was everything my heart, my soul, my most true self wanted and needed. I’d sworn I was too selfish to want kids but somehow she opened my heart wide open and I found myself falling in love with her two kids too.
For the first time in my life, I was with somebody who made me want to make plans for the future. I was with somebody who actually made the future matter.
I’ve been very physically active my entire life, from kickboxing as a young adult, to swimming, cycling and playing lacrosse all the way through college while working as a beach lifeguard. I am an avid outdoorsman, who loves competing in adventure races, paddling on the open water, and skydiving just for the fun of it.
By my 40s though, I’d let some of that active, physically fit lifestyle go. I’d occasionally go on intense bouts of getting in shape but then a job or assignment would distract me – give me excuses. At 47, I was the heaviest I’d been – 190lbs at 5’8” and it was not a healthy 190! I saw age 50 around the corner and wanted to make a change. So, I started eating healthy, went from walking a mile a day to running a few miles every day, and got back to kick-boxing 3-4 days a week. I was eating clean with a diet dominated by protein smoothies and giant salads with chicken or steak. Five months into my new regiment I’d dropped 20lbs and was feeling great.
One morning, I felt off – like I had a stomach bug. Out of nowhere, I started losing weight, rapidly. To offset the loss, I tried to eat more, eat cleaner… that led to more blood, more pain, and more rushing to the bathroom every hour or two.
Our daughter was graduating from high school in two weeks and everybody was focused on the celebration. I wasn’t going to detract from the joy, so I just kept the worst of it to myself. I quickly stopped being able to sleep for more than an hour at a time. Pain made me afraid to lie down in bed, so I settled in on the recliner where I existed on chicken broth, occasional crackers or rice and gatorade.
And I made it to our daughter’s graduation – somehow – mostly out of pure determination and a stubborn need to not let it be known how weak I’d become.
Days later, I was in the hospital. I would be diagnosed with either Ulcerative Colitis or Crohn’s Disease. The onset of the disease was so severe that the only option the doctor offered was an intravenous infusion of specialty medications that required a complicated pre-approval process and admitting me to the hospital if I got any worse.
I’ll never forget the pain in Carrie’s eyes when I turned to her and said “I don’t have much time left. Without major medical intervention, I’m not going to make it.” Carrie immediately called the specialist and after some very direct words with hospital staff, I was having my first intravenous infusion of Remicade (a biologic to try to beat the disease into remission) and I was being wheeled into a room in the intensive care unit.
I would then be weeks of trying to battle the disease that was attacking me from inside to force it into remission. When that proved to be a losing battle, the goal was simply to stabilize me enough to be able to survive surgery.
About Berrick Abramson
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About Berrick Abramson
Berrick Abramson is a business owner, executive coach and a strategist for business and government leaders across the U.S.. He has served as a consultant, negotiator and strategist advising senior government and business leaders across the country on some of the most complex issues they face.