About a month before my son was due to graduation from high school, I was sitting in my living room thinking. I was thinking about all the things that he was going to miss out on due to the pandemic.
And I was sad.
In typical teenage-boy naivete, he was clueless.
He had no idea what he was missing.
No “lasts” of any kind, no rebellious senior skip day decision and no stroll across a stage in a 100-degree gymnasium complaining about his tie choking him.
No anything.
Let me tell you. It’s tricky to have senioritis when you don’t feel like a senior.
He did his best.
He slept in, X-Boxed diligently and came out of his cave to eat, but it wasn’t the same.
And all-the-while, I kept thinking about what he was missing.
The graduation ceremony was a hard one.
I don’t particularly know anyone who loves sitting through graduation ceremonies, but it is a right-of-passage that should be duly noted.
And his was now to be broadcast on tv.
And we got a yard sign to stake in our front yard.
It. Was. Not. Enough.
And I knew it.
And I was sad.
I knew I didn’t want to keep feeling sad.
Life coaching teaches you that your emotions are based on your thoughts.
So, if I wanted to change how I felt, I knew I needed to change how I thought.
Now, I’m not saying to thought swap to replace the “He’s missing out” thought with a sparkly, happy thought that creates rainbows and daisies in my mind.
That doesn’t work.
So, I simply introduced another thought intentionally and let it sit there.
“I can create a graduation ceremony for him that’s even better than what he would have had.”
And I started to feel excited.
And I started thinking.
And I started planning.
And I recruited some amazing friends who also had senior boys.
And we planned even more.
And we did it.
We pulled off the BEST-EVER graduation ceremony any boy could have.
Complete with a stage, banners, balloons and of course, dirt cake.
Because dirt cake will always be preferred to regular cake by teenage boys.
And it was AMAZING.
How do I know?
Because the next day, on his way to college, my son turned to me and said that it was way better than anything his high school could have done.
My Mama Bear heart broke into a million pieces and I started crying all over again.
But this time, they were happy tears.
This is the power of coaching.
This is the power of knowing how to use your emotions to help you get what you want.
This is why I do what I do.
You can have this, too.
