Pride Comes Before a Fall: A mother’s story of brokenness

A wise sage once said, “Pride comes before a fall.” I’ve always taken that as a warning not to become too prideful lest you succumb to a similar temptation. Or perhaps get so puffed up only to be proven publically not to be the person you say you are.  However, the older I get the more I think it means that pride comes before a fall in the sense that humility comes with maturity and life experience.

I suffer from pride. Plain and simple. I pride myself on being smart, efficient and effective. I started working in the corporate world as a 19 year old and by age 20 was helping powerful men run multi-million dollar companies. I worked with architects and interior designers on two separate office buildouts, planned conferences for 200 participants, and hired and fired people all before I was allowed by car companies to rent a car. I was the type of person that could get things done.

When I encountered people who didn’t have their stuff together, I was annoyed. I couldn’t be encumbered by someone who either didn’t know how to do their job or was too lazy to figure it out. I wrote them off without looking back.

I’m ashamed of who I used to be.

Things changed when Ryan was diagnosed with his fatal heart defect. I went into shock the moment the doctors told me and I’m quite certain my brain never fully recovered.  My mind is broken, literally.

The longer we live in stability, I find my brain functioning at higher levels, but it’s nowhere near the memory or efficiency machine it used to be.  I asked a psychologist about the fact that I seemly have less short-term memory. She explained stress has a large affect on memory. When our minds are taken over by worry they have less bandwidth to focus on the little things, like remembering a doctors appointment.

This is frustrating because I like remembering doctors appointments… and other commitments for that matter.

The silver lining of this conundrum is that I’m far more humble (I hope) and forgiving of those who aren’t type A personalities. I’ve joined the ranks of those always behind the eight ball. And now I know it’s not necessarily because they are lazy or incapable, but because they’re drowning in the tide of too much. Their plates are so heavy they’re having a hard time holding them up. They’re simply overwhelmed with life and how they’re going to get through today. I get it… oh how I get it.

While I used to think I was getting a lot done these folks were already running laps around my neat, little world. They were dealing with the emotional stress of financial, medical, or emotional turmoil.

Pride comes before a fall because quite frankly after one, there’s no room for thinking more highly of yourself. You’ve fallen to depths you never thought you would and aren’t apt to forget having to crawl out of the hole of frustration, despair, embarrassment, or shame.

You don’t have time to look at the world as defining you, you are simply trying to get through each day making sure your four kids have clean socks and underwear, and don’t run out in the snow without coats. Ask me how I know.

If we could all look at each other with compassion instead of comparison, there might just be a fewer hurt feelings and less competing. There might be understanding and camaraderie. Imagine that: a world where people cared less about their own little bubble and more about connecting with real people.  Hurting people.

We might find we enjoy not having to live up to standards only achievable by those who’ve not yet figured out “having it all together”  isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

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