The Boulder

For decades, I struggled with a boulder that was getting in the way of my forward movement in life. 

I never knew it was there. I thought that the problems that I kept facing were normal. I thought that my stagnant career and relationships were my fault. I would just have to get better. Try harder. Get more focused. Be more polite. Communicate better. Be more of a "servant leader."

Over time, my efforts to get beyond the boulder (where I just knew my expansive and altruistic vision was waiting for me) only made it larger. 

Since I didn't know there was a boulder, I never even thought to go around it. But it would have been no use. It would only grow, or move, to block my alternate paths, (career change? new friends? new relationships? new hobbies? new time management system?)

My friends and family couldn't see the boulder, either. They wondered, maybe mockingly, why I didn't just walk around the boulder, or over it? I looked foolish.

I was always supported by a few. They heard me talk about the vision on the other side. They liked it. They would do what they could to help. But they, too, were only making the boulder larger.

Some "friends" made the boulder rapidly larger. These were the ones that considered me foolish, or lazy, or self-absorbed. They taunted. Interestingly, many of the most damaging comments, through the years, came from people in the "helping" professions. A therapist. An ethics expert. A human resources executive. A teacher. A psychologist. A pastor. 

They were responsible for the three-steps-back, that followed my two-steps-forward. They meant well. 

Granted, before there was a boulder, there was a pebble, of my own making. Or one that I was born with. The pebble was a weakness. A hang-up. A problem with my self-image. But over the course of several visits with Dr Robert Anderson at the University of Michigan, in the spring of 1980, the pebble gradually grew into a boulder. By the summer of 1980, the boulder was in place. I still could not see it. My frustrations, and failures, from then on, would be "normal". They would be my fault. 

The boulder had become a big, massive reflection of my vulnerabilities. These were sensed by predators, and seized upon. It seemed to infect some otherwise good people with predatory instincts. Other, little "Dr Andersons" would come and go. I never saw them as a problem, just as I could not see the Boulder. The Predator makes you believe he or she is good, or working for your benefit. 

You can't see the boulder. Yet it becomes a bigger, and bigger problem. 

In early 2020, the case against Dr Anderson hit the public, and I joined a group of victims, represented by a law firm, to push back against decades of institutionalized abuse against college students. I joined, because I could verify that the accounts were accurate. At that time, the boulder began to appear, in my peripheral vision. I saw it as a large object just outside of my reach, over to the right of my forward vision. I understood, for the first time, that this had been occupying more than maybe 20% of my emotional and intellectual capacity, for decades. 

One week ago today, on January 18th, a settlement was reached between the victims of Robert Anderson, and the Regents of the University of Michigan. Immediately the boulder came into full view to me. And I saw it for what it was. I had an epiphany. Just like that . . . the vain and pointless activities, and the unproductive attitudes, began to vanish. It was like someone handed me a sledgehammer, and I took a mighty swing at it, leaving a small crack.

Within twenty-four hours, my friend Kristy texted with words of support. My cousin, Suzann, engaged me in an online chat. And my two daughters, likewise, expressed support for me. These four women had done what I needed all along: Someone to come alongside me, not to encourage me to keep pushing against the boulder, nor to try to go around it, nor to climb over it, and certainly not to mock me for having a stupid boulder in my path. 

With their words, they were taking up pickaxes, and with me, began chipping away at it. 

As the story says, about the bear hunt: I had to go through the boulder. 

There is a lot more to the story. I will continue to tell it, and to connect the dots. The goal is not to get anyone in trouble, nor to hurt anybody. The goal is to help us all improve. By telling my story, perhaps I can help some of us do better, that would not think to, otherwise. 



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