Justin

September 15, 2020

On puzzling diagnoses and new medical adventures

want some real talk on a Tuesday?

I accepted a long time ago that you don’t get into disability resources or student affairs to get super rich. I’ll never have the biggest house on the block, the widest screen on the wall or a closet full of uber expensive threads … but goodness, it feels good to go to work every day and engage with students and faculty!

And the insurance has saved our bacon so many times over the past six years. From Sheridan’s birth, to Tyson’s occupational therapy, to epilepsy and rheumatoid arthritis and so many other points in between – we’ve been eternally grateful for coverage for things that could have easily driven us into serious debt.

But this week, the adventure takes another twist and turn as we sort out an allergic reaction Sher’s been dealing with the past few weeks. What we thought was a complication resulting from a new med we’ve been working with may actually end up being a newly-developed food allergy. And for this little one who uses food for therapy, the thought of losing nuts, eggs or strawberries was a crushing blow to our keto kid.

Sheridan has always been involved with her medical journey and treatment, making decisions about her care and discussing how different choices she makes may impact other aspects of therapy. So with a change like this, our peanut butter-loving, scrambled egg-eating keto warrior was, understandably, a bit concerned as we remove some of these potential triggers while we wait on allergy testing.

A tearful little girl sat in my lap last night, upset that her favorite nighttime snack wasn’t an option, and she sobbed the following …

“Daddy, if they take my bacon, it’s going to be a disaster!”

We would love your prayers as we continue to seek guidance, start allergy testing, make changes and support Sheridan as she does all of the hard work. Her spirit, patience and flexibility are nothing short of admirable as we constantly modify her lifestyle to hit our goal of zero seizures. I stay confident we’ll get there!

September 7, 2020

On drumming through the dog days

We’ve all been awed by those blazingly-fast drummers who effortlessly weave tones and timbre across their drum kit while their sticks are nothing more than a blur in motion.

Yeah so, I’ve never really been one of those drummers. 😏

Sure, I can pull off a few cool licks here and there – and sometimes I drop a stick or have a muscle cramp up on me and I do something unique and unexpected as a result. That’s totally by chance, so I’m not claiming any talent there!

But I’m never going to be the dude behind the kit in the next shred fest or Guitar Center drum-off.

I’ve always felt my greatest skill as a drummer is to listen to my band, understand the dynamics of the song and, above everything else, keep us on time and as tight as possible. If I’m playing at my best, I create a “pocket” for the rest of the band to rest in so they can play at their best.

Somewhere over the past few months, I’ve lost my pocket. I don’t think I dropped it anywhere, but with two monkeys for children … stuff has been known to fall out of the car unnoticed when we’re rushing to and fro.

All jokes aside, it’s gotten to the level where I’m in my head more than a little bit. Is it something off with the sticks I’m using? Are my tones throwing me off? Am I monitoring the wrong things while playing? Am I just no good?

In this weird season where I’m in a funk (and not the good kind of funk that makes you bob your head), I’ve been coming back to the same few ideas about myself and the way I know I need to move forward to come out of this.

Remember why I’m drumming in the first place

We’re all uniquely wired. Groove, rhythm and syncopation are tied to my DNA – surely 23 and Me would confirm that, right?

But it’s Imposter Syndrome that creeps out of the shadows of a flubbed fill or rough rehearsal. It’s those negative words that sneak in and try to pin me down and make me feel useless. Man, I’ve been there before and have let them have me believing it too.

But these days, I’m trying to constantly remind myself that my ability and opportunity are all ordained by my Creator. I wouldn’t make even a thud or a thump without His blessings in my life. So, when I sit with a pair of sticks in my hand, I have to fix my gaze on the One who put me where I am, with the skill I possess and the privilege I have to lead others in praising Him.

I make noise, rough or remarkable, to glorify the One who lets me make noise in the first place. When I put it in that perspective, my heart literally wells up with joy to know that, despite my mistakes, I still get to show up and do it all over again. My worth is not in how I or anyone else feel about my drumming, but in how the Lord receives the intentions and devotion of my offering and that He is given the glory.

Focus on what I can control

There’s not an hour that goes by that I’m not thinking about music and drumming. I’m always hearing rhythm, always finding musicality in the world around me. (Right now, I hear a dishwasher that sounds like it’s playing a swing beat.)

It’s leaning into the rhythm and music around me, honing my craft and carving out time to practice and refine what I do. If I were being honest with myself, I don’t set up drums in my house, so practicing to the fullest extent just doesn’t happen right now. But there’s always a pillow or a practice pad. I can control how I prepare.

I can also control my attitude when things don’t go the way I’d anticipate or desire. I can let myself sink into a woe-is-me place and wait for the tide to turn itself. Or I can do the things I know I need to do to get the results I want. Attitude, perception and mindset go a long way to getting where you want to be. It’s about reminding myself I can, rather than being frustrated that I didn’t.

Remembering where I’ve been before

I’ve played music with some incredible artists and musicians along the way. People who have devoted decades to their talents – and it shows in their skill and their confidence.

But even the greatest musical phenomes have their off days. It’s those lows that really make us appreciate and long for the highs.

And it’s also a good reminder that I’ve had those highs before. Pocket drumming isn’t new for me – I’ve been able to do what I do for a long time now because people know I’m steady, reliable and know how to get the band where we need to be.

If I’ve done it before, I can do it again.

On drumming through the dog days

So COVID hasn’t been the most inspiring, most musically-fulfilling season of my life, but in every slump, we must take the opportunity to learn and grow.

For now, I choose to remind myself I’ve played as long as I have, not by accident, but because I’ve been made to do so and because other players know what I bring to the table. With some practice, constant gut checks and a healthy dose of persistence, I’ll see this thing through to the other side.

August 5, 2020

On remembering my why

I remember my interview at Texas A&M like it was yesterday.

Meeting what would be my new teammates, hearing their vision for the role I’d hopefully assume and imagining myself being part of a vibrant campus community. I was energized, to say the least.

Six years later, there’s still no greater feeling knowing I work with students who are at the precipice of incredible, transformational and life-changing experiences.

And yet, somewhere in all of this COVID confusion, losing that physical immediacy with students and moving our interactions to a digital space sucked the wind right out of my sails. I can wear a brave face when I need to, but my energy was completely zapped – and for a while, I was so woried about how I’d feel when I went back.

But enter Fish Camp. Over these past few months, with plans changing and so much uncertainty surrounding this pivotal experience, I’ve watched students fight with all their energy to keep the tradition alive – even when the odds were stacked entirely against them.

There’s nothing more exhilarating than watching people do their best and boldest work, and these student leaders showed heart and determination beyond compare.

And on the eve of my first day back in the office since early March, I’ve met this day on the calendar with trepidation and conflicted emotions. I’m really going to miss Angela and the kids, who have been a phenomenal source of life and encouragement while working remotely. I’m going to miss my sweatpants that, on many days, go entirely unnoticed by colleagues and make me feel uber comfortable. I’m going to miss closing my laptop at the end of the afternoon and walking a few short steps to grab a drink from my own fridge.

But as I witnessed the energy, excitement and enthusiasm of the Camp Romack staff, it made me remember that high I got working with students all these years and why I show up to this job each and every day.

Because students are still writing the early chapters of their lives, with stacks and stacks of blank pages to fill. They have doors to open, lives to change, curiosity and creativity to expend, and a world that needs their time and talents. And in this moment, a brief yet formative juncture in their journey, they need professionals that show up to encourage them when times are tough.

And as long as they’ll let me, I’ll keep showing up because fame and fortune pale in comparison to helping others pursue their greatness.

Finding peace in all of the uncertainty of a new semester in an anything-but-normal situation thanks to some amazing friends and powerful, reflective experiences.

July 30, 2020

On battling anxiety, depression and low self-esteem

A Zoom screenshot featuring the Camp Romack counselors posing in their own video panel. I’ve always been the type to obsessively worry about what others think of me.

It’s like a ridiculously bitter cocktail made of the worst-tasting mixture of pride, low self-esteem and anxiety.

My inner voice has always been my own worst enemy, taunting and teasing me to believe I’m no good and the whole world knows it. Even when favor shines on my face and a door opens, I question the opportunity and whether or not I’m worth it.

Throughout my life, I’ve tried countless strategies to cope with and address my poor self-image. But I’m telling you, nothing beats authenticity and community for feeling comfortable in your own skin.

I just spent 48 hours with the greatest group of 140+ college students I’ve ever known.

Fish Camp brought together the talents of 25 overwhelmingly committed and caring leaders who organized an unforgettable slate of events to prepare the incoming class of 2024 in what to expect as they transition into this important season of their lives.

That’s a tall order when we’re not smack dab in the middle of a global pandemic – but you add physical distancing restrictions and all-day Zoom sessions with complete strangers to the mix and it starts to feel near impossible.

But y’all, this group demonstrated leadership at elite levels, staying firm, resilient and committed each and every time the rug was pulled from beneath their feet. And goodness, the time was so powerful, despite the fact we were all in different corners of the world throughout it all.

One of the core values of Fish Camp is diversity, and a few of their sessions touched on understanding and valuing different identities and finding refuge in a shared identity as Aggies. Their honesty and vulnerability made this such an impactful moment.

I listened to leader after leader talk about their identity, their history, their struggles and what brought them to this point in their lives. With transparency and authenticity, they opened up on those dark and scary moments that had them questioning who they are and where they were going.

I was there at 18… 22… 29… last week… doubting everything about myself and who I was made to be. Dismissing my value and worth, critiquing every move I made and word I uttered, and questioning whether or not I belonged.

At times I tried to be the clown, loud and raucous to earn a cheap laugh and numb the pain just a bit. Other times I just pushed the anxiety and depression deep into the pit of my stomach and quietly dealt with the pain.

I’ve tried eating my feelings. I’ve tried washing them down with a few drinks. I’ve had medication and just sleeping off my feelings on the list too.

And yes, those things might work for a hot second. But nothing beats owning who you are, seeking out community and taking steps to build a healthier you.

What’s helped me tackle my bouts with poor self-image and mental health?

Before I share, please know everyone is different. My mental health is just that – mine. My brain is wired uniquely and wonderfully for my purpose, and so is yours. I share my story because authenticity is one of my superpowers now, and because it’s how I cope with those sneaky feelings that try to sabotage me.

The first and most important thing is getting in alignment with my purpose. (shoutout to my brother and friend, Dr. DF Arnold for the work he does to help students and professionals seek after their purpose)

If you don’t get in alignment with your purpose, you’re wandering aimlessly with no metric to tell you when you’re hitting the mark and winning. It’d be like playing a game of football without end zones.

When we know what we’re doing and why what we’re doing matters, we have a goal and a target to set our aim. When I let my internal motivators drive my external actions, I measure my success and my value on where I know I’m wired to be… and not based on what anyone else thinks.

Things that helped me narrow my purpose were the StrengthsQuest assessment and being truly honest and understanding the ways I deliver value to my community. While my purpose is always being tweaked and refined, my goal of equipping and empowering people to be the best version of themselves never changes.

Other things that have helped me take my mental health by the horns are:

Physical fitness and weight lifting — There’s a high that comes with hitting a new personal record or pushing or pulling more weight than you ever thought possible. There’s nothing like physical toughness to combo mental strength.
Eating the right diet for my brain — I’ll admit, I love food… bad food… processed the kind of food that doesn’t fuel my body in helpful ways, to be honest. And while I don’t completely avoid these indulgences, I’ve found a way of eating (more often than not) which helps me clear my head, feel sharper and manage my weight at the same time. Again, what works for me may not work for you… but I’m about 95% keto/carnivore. I eat chicken and bacon for most meals, which allows me to keep it easy.
Challenging myself through new opportunities — I used to keep quiet and to myself in professional settings. You avoid failure that way… which also means you avoid opportunities to grow yourself. I find that learning new things, keeping my brain firing on all cylinders and taking on new challenges helps me to stay my strongest.
Owning who I am and being open about it — Posts and conversations about my story and struggles with self-esteem and mental health always help me reflect on how I’ve coped and what I can continue doing to keep myself in a good headspace. Part of keeping quiet in my teens and twenties was because I was afraid that people would judge me and that they couldn’t possibly understand what I was feeling. I’m here to tell you: Everyone is dealing with something! For some, it’s kept in check fairly easily. For others like me, we have to work a bit more thoughtfully to find equilibrium. Talking about my pain and struggles helps to both vocalize that I’m not always okay and to remind myself I’m not alone in the battle.

Working alongside these incredible students this year has been a season I will never forget. They’ve changed my heart and head in profound ways, and have reminded me that my purpose is best lived out working with young professionals on their cusp of greatness.

But more importantly, I watched them build community with over a hundred other bright minds who may not be having these kinds of conversations. They shared a message and vision of hope, and also reminded us all that we’re in this together and the biggest failure is often staying silent.

I’ve been pushing back tears all night thinking about the wonderful ideas and encouragement they offered these freshmen. But to see young leaders powerfully coaching and lifting up their peers on topics that us working professionals should have learned ages ago? It just fills me with hope and pride in the future we’re all building together.

Camp Romack, thanks for the pleasure and privilege of sharing in those moments. I’m forever changed by your wisdom and strength!

July 27, 2020

On my first memory of employment discrimination.

A Jack in the Box antenna topper blows a bubble gum bubble while wearing a Texas Rangers baseball cap.

I was born wired to work.

I turned 16 and was stoked to get my first job at Jack in the Box.

That’s right, ya boy was a fry cook! From curly fries to egg rolls, I loved keeping up with the busy ebb and flow of our store – especially when we saw a noticeable spike when customers rolled through around midnight with a case of the late-night munchies.

I’d worked there for close to six months when our store manager was let go. We never heard why, but quickly found ourselves under new management. I didn’t really give it much thought because I Knew I’d show up and keep hustling like I’d always done.

But I got a phone call within a week of our new manager taking the helm. She’d never really interacted with me, but called me out of the blue to say she was concerned about my future on the fryer. Nary an incident to my name, she told me it might be safest if I serve the store in a different way – to which she suggested I come in for a few hours each week to tidy the lobby and restroom areas.

I didn’t know much about discrimination to this point. I mean, I’d been picked on for being blind, but never had I faced the reality of an older adult showing explicit discrimination toward me because I’m disabled. I was shocked, hurt, frustrated and confused – because remember, I’d done my job without fail this entire time (which in the fast food world, six months is nearly an eternity.)

I didn’t cause a fuss, call an attorney or boycott those tasty, yet terribly unhealthy monster tacos. In fact, I didn’t do anything. I hung up my apron and never went back.

As I reflect on a notable anniversary for the Americans with Disabilities Act this evening, I’m reminded of how it took legislation for disabled people like me to find liberty and protection in areas like employment, education and transportation. Activists and advocates had to challenge culture and policy makers relentlessly to codify personhood for me and so many others.

And still, with a record and reputation of being a dependable team member, I was dismissed on the basis of my disability. I wish my story were an outlier and disabled people weren’t cast aside like this in the workplace, but it’s a dangerous reality we need to face.

To this day, we hear bloated figures on the staggeringly-high unemployment and underemployment rates in the disabled community. And more often than not, it isn’t because there’s a physical, technological or communications barrier in the way. No, it’s the less visible, more sinister sting of attitudinal and systemic barriers that, 30 years later, we still have yet to topple.

My external reaction to that moment was quite passive, regrettably. I should have spoken up and stood firm – not just for myself, but for every other disabled person that manager would discriminate against along the way.

But internally, I was an absolute wreck and dealt with issues of confidence and self-worth for most of my teens and twenties. In fact, I had at least a dozen professionals over the next few years tell me I couldn’t or wouldn’t be able to pursue my vocational goals – many of which I have or continue to pursue to this day. (Boo on you!)

So, what do we do with all of this, friends? Where do we go from here? While not an exhaustive list, here are some of the things jumping out in my mind right now (and I encourage others to add theirs’ in the comments.)

We have to stop seeing disability as something to fear, pity or cause discomfort. Like a pair of pants, disability is something I live with and embrace as part of who I am. It doesn’t make me brave, inspiring or powerful. We must challenge the idea disability is more than an identity and an aspect of diversity to be valued. I’m no superhero, saint or charity case – I’m a totally blind husband, father, trusted professional, drummer, writer, coder and so much more.
We must recognize the role society plays in disabling individuals. When I attend an event and don’t have access to the printed information available to other attendees, my eyesight isn’t the barrier. The disabling factor is that the materials are in print and haven’t been provided in alternative formats for people who consume information through other means of access. When we create a video and don’t include captions, we create a barrier for people who need audio to be transcribed to access spoken information. We are the source of these barriers!
We also need to extend greater grace to the people around us. While we pretend to know everything about someone based on what we see of them, there’s no way you can ever know what someone is navigating by a glance. Stop thinking everyone who walks into the store after parking in an accessible parking spot is faking a disability. Or trying to “diagnose” every public figure based on what you see through a lens. WE do harm to disabled people when we make presumptions or fit the narrative around our idea of these identities.

The Americans with Disabilities Act turns 30 today, – and while it’s meant more open doors than disabled people had in the 90s, you can’t look at me with a straight face and say we’re anywhere close to where we should be.

We all win if we ensure equitable access for everyone. Opportunity is anything but when we limit who has access. Challenge yourself, recognize barriers and promote equity inside your sphere of influence – and we’ll value the diversity of disability rather than see it as another problem to solve.

March 20, 2020

Swimming in a New Pond

A hand holds a fish-shaped keychain made of purple beads. A single letter "E" is visible on one of the beads.

I’m not going to lie … I’ve been a mess of emotions the past few days with the COVID-19 situation changing virtually by the second.

I think it’s one thing to feel the impact as you respond with concern and compassion to events happening across the globe … in another part of the country … somewhere else around the state … a few towns away from you. But when chaos is unfolding in your own backyard, stuff starts to get real – and you process and manage that concern a little differently.

And while no one in my family is sick and we’re doing what we can to limit exposure, the feeling of disconnect, disorientation and disarray has felt very real as classes were moved online, social events are cancelled and the day-to-day routine I’ve grown accustomed to has turned upside down and sideways. I started feeling some depression sneak in last night – and I’ve been wrestling with it ever since. But something was helpful to me as I started reflecting on these emotions … and maybe this thought will be helpful to you in some way too.

Keep reading …