schemper yearly update

I’m out of practice writing reflective essays. (I don’t know if anyone noticed, but I skipped writing one last year.) Blame it on leftover COVID holiday malaise, a flurry of being store director (ditto upscale resale) alongside full-time grad school (master’s in clinical mental health counseling at Marshall University), or the realization that the pressure I feel to perform and please is a pressure I put on myself. I was “should-ing” myself, just as I imagine psychologist Chris Thurman explains in his book Shop Shoulding All Over Yourself, which describes the struggles we each face when faulty ways of thinking damage our emotional, relational, and spiritual health. Though I’m taking Amazon’s word on that as I never read the book (a fact in and of itself which makes me believe I no longer need to read the book). Turns out two years of grad school and reading (the first half of) dozens of psychology books have awakened a curiosity as to why we do what we do…whose fault it is, and how can I get him to stop doing it. (I joke, I joke.)

Greg and I will be celebrating 20 years of marriage next week! I recently listened to a podcast in which psychologist Anthony Chambers described the two most difficult times in a couple’s relationship being the transition into parenthood and the transition to empty nesting. While I have no concern for the longevity of our relationship when the kids are gone, I can see how marriages are damaged and die with a thousand little cuts. I got the chance to counsel my first couple during my internship last semester and I used the Gottman method of couples therapy (it’s always wise to test out theories on others first), whose founder’s longevity studies allowed him to predict whether a couple’s relationship will last 3 years in the future with 90% accuracy based on measuring the couples’ response to bids for attention, physiology (heart rate, etc.), and their ability to diffuse physiological arousal during conflict discussions. Ever since reading this, I’ve been extra careful to turn toward Greg (every night long enough for him to massage my head), and I try to stare intently at him when he’s excitedly explaining new building codes or exclaiming, “You know what I’d do if money were no object?” which always ends with more building talk which I have to tune out, because I’m, you know, human, but I’ve stopped rolling my eyes first. I know we’ve cut each other hundreds of times over the years, and we remember some things so differently that it’s hard to believe we're talking about the same thing, but I’m so thankful I got partnered with Greg in this longevity study. As I always tell the kids, group projects are great when you have a partner who is not afraid of work, and whose mom likes to send along snacks.

Greg has picked up a few traits living so long in an all-female household. He memorizes random facts about stars so he can contribute to conversations, and he has picked up a bit of Elia’s dramatic flair. Our new favorite Greg stories include the time he had COVID and was sequestered to the study for a week. One afternoon the girls were having a conversation in the living room and suddenly heard a low familiar whisper, “Actually, Kim Kardashian is surprisingly short––she’s only 5’3”,” to which we all look up to see a hooded Greg standing in the dark recesses of the hallway wearing all black. (We’re still not sure how long he’d been standing there, but he suddenly disappeared, not to be seen again for the day.) Later that week Kate said, “I asked dad if he was going to be OK, and he said, ‘I’m not sure’––what does that mean?!”

A really fun psychological assessment is to hop in an online waiting room for eight hours, watching a wait-time line move at an indecipherable rate in an attempt to get tickets to see Taylor Swift. I don’t want to break any confidentiality laws, but I can tell you this––this experience finally allowed Greg to access his emotions, and they came in hard and fast: joy, denial…rage. He was even questioning the fairness of life (“You know that DeBlecourts would already have tickets by now, why can’t we get a break?!”). In true Schemper fashion (we have it pretty good, but we have to work like dogs sometimes to get it), Greg was able to snatch up four seats for her show in Arlington, TX, where we’ll now be headed for Spring Break 2023, Baby!

Greg is creating and teaching a design-thinking class this year, as well as teaching AP Lang, Freshman English, and Film. When I asked the girls recently what traits they most hoped to get from their father (I also asked what traits they hoped they wouldn’t get from each of us, but I’ll save those for his birthday), they said his curiosity, creativity, and generosity. I most appreciate his ability to connect with anyone, and his wise counsel (which he got from his dad). I also admire his exploration and experimentation when he spends an entire day making a vat of chili (“I accidentally grabbed the wrong spice, and the top was off…I really hope you guys like this chili because I accidentally made four batches.”), but I can’t promise I’ll enjoy eating super spicy chili for two weeks straight. Greg is the most alive when he’s learning (he earned his professional building license last year so he can cite the codes with more confidence), and when forging real connections with people. He’s the least alive when he’s grading for eight hours straight, he’s following depressing news too closely, and when I am trying to forcefully counsel him into an emotional breakthrough.

Greg and Kate spent a decent amount of time watching the FIFA World Cup this month (not to be confused with the FAFSA––which I was filling out in the other room; Kate is especially careful to what she signs up for ever since we pulled into Carpet Bonanza and she looked over at me horrified, and said, “I thought we were going to Carpe Latte!”)

Kate is on fire (and so was particularly intent on me writing an update this year). She joined the Unified soccer team last school year (which joins special needs athletes with athlete helpers), and they promptly won state and then earned a bronze medal during their two-week trip to the Special Olympics in Florida last June. Win an Olympic medal: check.

We spent last Spring Break in Puerto Rico, visiting one of my best friends, and enjoyed a week of sun, snorkeling, and spectacular sights. Visit a Spanish-speaking country: check.

We recently saw our last Broadway Grand Rapids show, as we treated ourselves to a season that included Hamilton! By purchasing seats in the second row from the back, we were able to keep it cost-effective (and see just how much of West Michigan is fighting male-pattern baldness). See six Broadway shows in one year: check.

Kate was selected to join YAC (Youth Activation Committee), a subset of Special Olympics which works to educate, motivate, and activate youth to become agents of change and inclusion. They meet several times a year to work on social media campaigns, plan events, and to build community, and Kate was asked to briefly speak at their banquet a couple weeks ago during their weekend of meetings. Attend a business retreat: check.

We weren’t positive what it would be like for Kate to be away from us for two weeks in June, but she had the time of her life, and rarely called (much to Elia’s dismay). She has also begun setting boundaries with what she shares with me and just how much wisdom I am allowed to impart over her about certain situations. If she thinks I’m getting too close to her boundary line, she’ll say, “Mom! You’re being a lot right now. I love you, but I’m not liking you right now.” Which my counselor thinks is “just amazing!” and I think is “infuriating.” Differentiate self from parents: check.

Kate has always wanted to lead a chapel at her old middle school, but I successfully talked her out of it until this year (I told her I didn’t have it in me at the moment to protect her out of disappointment if it went south. Yes, I’m in therapy myself.) She spoke about the lessons she’s learned about waiting through her grandpa’s illness, and she was eloquent, poised, and spirit-filled. Speak in front of an audience of 220: check.

Kate is part of the elite singing group at school, is enjoying her senior year, has started a blog, occasionally likes to try some light fermentation experimentation with produce left in her coat pocket (achieved apple-cider status last year!), and is pretty set on attending Calvin University next Fall for something having to do with communications, psychology, and Spanish. She works at ditto and babysits, and she has declared that Greg and I can no longer chaperone prom as I was “super embarrassing” last year when I pulled up a chair two feet from the dance floor and just stared at everyone (she’s exaggerating, and I was following her strict orders to “not dance”). Kate shared today that she has never lit a match and isn’t quite sure how. But, she carries her strength and worth in a way that no one can snatch it from her, so I think our Olympic medalist will be just fine. (Though this is the same kid who couldn't blow out candles either, weird, right?!)

If you ever want to see something interesting, say something complimentary about Kate (e.g., “Kate’s a great babysitter!”) and look over at Elia’s face. Her chin will jut out, mouth-closed, and if you look really closely you’ll see a little steam come out of her ears. Elia is competitive for the attention that Kate has never sought. Let’s blame it on birth order (three out of the four of us are second-born kids, though only Elia and I share the youngest’s itch for the limelight). What started out as a super-rocky year friend-wise is ending with some stability and calm. I mean, as much calm as a group of high school kids with a flair for drama will allow.

I’ve always said that Elia is the bravest person I know (not fearless, of course, as only sociopaths are fearless, but brave). If she puts her mind to something, she probably will achieve it, be it memorizing an audition monologue in one night or binge watching Sabrina The Teenage Witch in two days, her power can be used for good or for evil. As a sophomore, Elia made the select women’s choir, played the role of Matilda’s best friend, Lavender, in the Fall musical Matilda, acted in the winning “best show” for Holland Christian’s 24-hour-theater competition, and landed a role in the MIFA one-act play The Women of Lockerbie, which is about the Pan Am flight that exploded over Scotland in 1988 (not a comedy, per se). All Elia wanted for Christmas was help paying for a flight to go visit her Uncle Kurt and Aunt Amy in Los Angeles this summer, so she’ll be heading West for a week in June!

Elia babysits like it’s her business, which it is, and she keeps busy with referrals. She enjoys having the most expendable income in the family, and will gladly buy you a coffee or give you a facial if you want. Her dream is to become a labor and delivery nurse and an actress (to which I always have to add…“Or at least act like a nurse!”).

Psychologist Dan Siegel describes wellbeing as a river flowing between the banks of chaos (unpredictability and instability) and the banks of rigidity (controlling and inflexibility). Elia admittedly floats down this river on her raft by bouncing off one bank to the other. I mean, to be honest, we all do, but maybe not as quickly as a fifteen-year-old does. As we can afford and as needed, Elia enjoys seeing her counselor, who says she’s amazingly insightful and mature for her age. Elia and I recently did one joint session (well, I just never left) and it was “SO fun!” (my words), and I did “too much talking” (her words). Apparently the number one thing I say to Elia is, “Hey, attitude!” and she doesn’t appreciate that as much as I do. And, I once barged through the bathroom door (she was inside) because I wanted to discuss boundaries with her. (To be fair, I wanted to discuss Elia's boundaries with her phone, not with me.)

Raising teenage girls is not for the faint of heart. I think it’s because we care so much, we have so little control, and we can feel their pain so deeply. But at the end of the day, I know my girls are equipped to fight their own battles and have enough grit to fail and not give up. And, that they “know how socks work” (said Elia after I explained how to match up socks by looking at the colors). I love Elia’s strength, resilience, and passion, but most admire her caring heart and her bravery. And her impersonation of me coughing (not super flattering but quite accurate).

Stella Rae, our chug (chihuahua-pug), still brings us much joy, comfort, and hair. We’ve all noticed that she’s becoming more clingy lately, as she likes to sit on our laptops while we work, on our laps while we eat, and in between Greg and me as we sleep. But I still say she’s the best $500 I’ve ever spent. (Stella typed that last part.)

Molly Ann, our tabby cat, is still alive, is cute when she’s asleep and not biting us when we try to pet her, and is still worth every penny! (Incidentally, she was free.)

Last May I quit my job at ditto so I could complete my practicum and begin my internship in counseling at Midtown Counseling, where I work with adults and elementary and middle school students; I plan to graduate in May. If you were to ask me to sum up what I’ve learned about mental health, I’d have to begin by saying you’re pretty demanding (kinda like when firefighter Uncle Paul came to Elia’s preschool class and she asked him, “What is fire?” as if she was lobbing him a ball). Then, I’d say the key to mental wellbeing is integration and the key to integration (or balance where we’re floating down that river) is curiosity. We are relational people, and we are meaning seekers. We love stories, we love explanations, and our brains and bodies work so intricately together to tell us stories about what is known, what is safe, and what we can expect. Even before we are born, our brains and bodies begin to store these meanings and connections in the form of neurological synapses, our memories, and our modes of attachment. These synaptic connections bind together our physical sensations, emotions, and thoughts until they cover our brains with a web as intricate and numbered as the constellations. So, as a suuuper simple explanation (because I don’t quite fully understand it all myself though it’s probably in the second half of Dr. Daniel Siegel’s book Mindsight), we learn attachment and emotional regulation from our earliest caretakers, and we develop our core beliefs about how the world is and how it should be––our reactions, and relationship patterns––through our attempt to make meaning and create connections. The problem, of course, comes when we’ve subconsciously connected things that shouldn’t always be connected and that don’t always make sense. Because we so rarely pause and take a step back, we might not notice why one critical look creates knots in our stomach, what thoughts are feeding our anxiety, why we avoid conflict like the plague, or why we keep returning to unhealthy relationship patterns. By developing a curiosity about our body’s reactions, thoughts, and feelings, we can begin to see what synaptic connections need some tweaking. An unintegrated mind, body, prefrontal cortex, and amygdala can survive, but I can guarantee that undealt-with stories, memories, and emotions always emerge as pain of some kind. (I highly recommend the first half of Dr. Bessel van der Kolk’s groundbreaking book The Body Keeps the Score, or the ENTIRE book The Boy Who Was Raised as a Dog by Dr. Bruce Perry––get it now in paperback…or just wait for Elia’s next play season.) The most wonderful news, though, is that we can create new synapses, new means of attachment, make sense of our stories, and create new core beliefs. We are broken through relationships, and we are healed through relationships, and that’s why I believe there is no better job than walking alongside and helping people become more curious.

A young teen finds herself pregnant and has to leave her home and travel a long distance while late in her pregnancy. Her stress hormones are fed to her baby. In the father’s family there is a long history of adultery, murder, deceit, insecure attachment, and the fruit of generational trauma. Their baby was created to be connected to others, to Himself, and to God. He was fully human, which means He felt pain, disconnection, and emotional dysregulation. And yet, somehow, He was also fully God. I wonder how old He was when He realized that He was the reconnection we were all waiting for.

Merry Christmas, Friends!

Greg, Sarah, Kate, Elia, Stella & Molly