"WHY ME?" and TOMATOES

"I did everything I was supposed to: I worked hard, raised my family, helped others. Now I'm retiring and want to enjoy life and I'm diagnosed with cancer. It's not fair!"

A tearful "Susan" sat in my office last year, steeped in anger over the injustice of her diagnosis and fluctuating between rage and deep despair. Life handed her a raw deal. Over and over she asked "Why me?" She didn't have any risk factors associated with cancer. Yet one day it appeared, uninvited, unwelcomed, unfairly intruding on her life.

I didn't have the answers she was seeking. But I could help her find meaning and purpose in this experience.

None of us escapes injustice and unfai
ess in life. We do what's right and expect right to happen. When it doesn't, the natural response is anger. We may not find the answer to "why me?" and it's not imperative that we do. More importantly, we need to shift our focus from self-pity to self-discovery. Ask instead, "What am I supposed to do with this?" Every experience has purpose and value.

I encouraged Susan to seek direction and understanding. Initially it was difficult. Gradually, she began to realize that life did not want her to "retire" - she was being prepped for a higher purpose. Susan pursued her treatment voraciously as she anxiously anticipated the new life before her.

Another of my clients (from the battered women's shelter) is a perfect example. A survivor of domestic violence and rape, she lost everything: her home, her children, her career, her life as she knew it. She arrived with only the clothes on her back and some emotional baggage: anger, despair, fear, bitte
ess. Through self-discovery, she found new meaning to life: to become a voice for women of domestic violence. Her new-found passion, born of extreme pain, has birthed an unparrelled conviction to fight for the rights of women and children. Nothing will stop her on her quest for justice. She is a powerful force of hope and inspiration whose efforts have already begun bearing fruit.

I'm grateful never to have been plagued with self-pity. "Why me?" does not exist in my vocabulary. Through all life's unfai
ess, injustices, and pain, I have never felt sorry for myself. I've always found meaning and purpose in each experience.

As a child, my dad had a vegetable garden. His prized tomato plants grew over eight feet high and produced the most delicious tomatoes around. He fertilized with horse manure (a/k/a sh__). Ironically, the plants never complained when they where "manuered" on. Instead, they used it to grow to enormous heights, as if instinctively knowing it was beneficial to them.

Perhaps, we could all learn from some very wise beefsteaks.