"PUT YOUR OWN OXYGEN MASK ON FIRST"

I've heard it, seemingly, a million times, from flight attendants on airplanes...in case of an emergency, for the parent/adult to put on our mask first, and then place it over our kid's head, giving them what they need. Second. I remember something about the essence of this being jostling to my sensibility, the first times I heard it. "Take care of yourself first," it just wasn't what I was brought up, or grew up, understanding. Experientially. I always said that I would take any bullet for my kids...to take their pain away. And, while I've heard this oxygen mask notion used as a metaphor for "real life", it really wasn't until this past Shabbat at Romemu when something struck me. I don't even think it was anything that Rabbi David said at that moment that hit that spot, it was where my brain (or some part of me) went during a meditative pause. There are these moments when I just plain feel guilty. For some of the choices that I have made. Even if I know that, for me, they were/are the right ones. Of the longterm, journey variety. The ones that might inspire other people, or ex-wives, or in-laws or whomever to wonder things like, "why did he leave his marriage AND his career? At the same time", or "wouldn't it have been so much better for his kids for him to have hung in there and provided "'more'?" Or, "who am I to choose to be an artist, or lead this interesting life of passion from the soul?" Yes, who am I to do that. Or something like that. Any question that starts with "who is he to...?" or "who am I to...?" may be fraught with some hot buttons. Clearly the notions and voices may have come from others at times, yet the residue of that - the voice and old tape of me to me - is still residing somewhere inside. The "shoulda's"...even though I know I did what I had to do...to lead a life (in the fullest sense of the word), not just make a living....

So, there I was at Romemu, and it hit me...to be able to understand (to accept fully?) how I made some of the choices that I made, is to get how I really needed to get my oxygen. First. To get air, to feel alive. First. And then when I can feel somewhat whole, then I can take care of my loved ones. It suddenly made so much sense (in addition to helping me feel a bit "better"), the way that I could be better there for my kids, and others, if I am more available, feeling healthier, inside. I thought of how many times when Maia was really challenged, wrestling with her demons and spirit, how I completely tanked. Could barely move. Breathe. The fear, the anxiety permeated my whole being, in such a way that I - in retrospect - realize that my capacity as a Dad, as HER rock, as her comfort zone, was not fully accessible to her. Because it wasn't available to me. And, even though I tried my best to get out of my own way, anyone who's ever been through that kind of stuff, seeing one's kid, my loved one, suffer, knows that it takes everything and anything to not start rolling downhill. Fast. And, I learned that I need(ed) to. To transform some of the old ways of looking and dealing and (not always) coping. For myself as well as those who are dependent on me. Who need me. Who love me. And, as I came to realize that Maia is on her own path, regardless of the bumps, so am I. And, the only way that I can truly lead, that I can inspire, that I can be an example for my kids to lead a life of choice - to see that there ARE choices no matter the circumstances - is to be there, in the most compelling, congruent and aspirational way for myself. First.