Episode 1: When Life Breaks You
Transcript
Episode 1 of A Calm Place
By Marc Messinger
If you’re listening to this, you’re in the right place.
Nothing is required of you here.
You may have found this recording on my website, mylifetransitionsguide.com. Or maybe it found you another way — shared quietly by a friend, a social worker, a chaplain, or someone you trust who simply said, “Take fifteen minutes. This man might get you.”
That’s how I hope these recordings travel — person to person — when someone needs a calm voice more than another set of instructions.
This is the first recording in a short series called A Calm Place. At its core, this series explores one simple question:
What happens when you lose control — and how do you find your footing again?
Losing Control Is Not About Money
Over the past twenty-plus years, I’ve had a front-row seat to loss of control — not only in my own life, but sitting across from people in moments no one prepares you for.
I’ve spoken to rooms of hundreds. I’ve sat with small groups. And I’ve sat one-on-one with people in my office when:
Health slips
Family roles change
Purpose feels lost
Life suddenly feels overwhelming
People often think control is about money — the house, the car, the bank account.
What I’ve learned, personally and professionally, is this:
The most important thing we try to hold onto is control of our own life — our choices, our dignity, our sense of direction.
When that control slips, even temporarily, everything feels harder.
Again and again, people have said to me:
“I thought something was wrong with me. No one told me this was normal.”
That’s why these recordings exist — not as a sales pitch, not as an agenda — but as a free place to return when life feels unsteady.
If all you do today is listen, that’s enough.
The First Time I Lost Control
For many of us, there are years that shape us quietly — and years that shake us to our core.
For me, the first time I truly lost control was when I was sixteen.
I woke up on my birthday to my mom standing in my doorway, talking to me. At first, I thought she was joking — because I couldn’t hear her. Not at all.
Within an hour, we were on our way to the hospital.
Over the days that followed, my world went dark and quiet. I was moved from hospital to rehab, from place to place. I was sixteen years old — the youngest patient by decades.
Eventually, I ended up at Mayo Clinic. By the time it was over, I’d had more than twenty spinal taps just to stay alive.
What mattered most wasn’t the diagnosis.
It was the feeling.
I was young, scared, and powerless.
At Mayo, I was surrounded by men who had lived full lives — many of them World War II veterans. Their bodies were failing. Some of their minds were slipping.
And it became clear to me:
The last thing they wanted to lose was the same thing I didn’t want to lose — control.
That lesson never left me.
We can’t control outcomes — but we can steady ourselves when life turns without permission.
Losing Control as a Parent
Years later, I felt that loss again — this time as a parent.
Our daughter was diagnosed with central core muscular dystrophy.
I remember sitting in that room as the doctor spoke, watching the clock continue to tick while time stood completely still.
Every instinct in me wanted to trade places with her — to carry it for her.
But I couldn’t change the diagnosis.
So we learned how to live with it.
My job became raising a strong daughter in a world that wouldn’t always be kind — building independence, courage, and belief.
Today, Marina is a young woman navigating her disability with grit and strength.
I’ve come to believe this:
Disability doesn’t only limit you. Sometimes, it sharpens you.
One decision at a time, we learned how to take back as much control as possible.
Caregiving Changes You
Caregiving doesn’t burn you out all at once.
It wears you down slowly.
It’s the mental load you carry everywhere. The vigilance. The quiet exhaustion no one sees.
Caregivers don’t collapse.
They fade.
And caregiving changes you — just like loss does.
The Storm That Changed Everything
My third storm came when my wife, Kathryn — my partner of thirty years — was diagnosed with terminal stage-four colon cancer.
It was July of 2020. The world had already stopped.
We were told she had two to three months to live.
She didn’t.
She had time.
Twenty-three meaningful months.
Together, we set small, intentional goals — and she completed thirty-six of the thirty-seven we set.
Eventually, she entered hospice in our home. For us, it was the right choice — for her comfort, for our children, and so she could pass in a place that felt safe.
She died in our bed, surrounded by love.
It was heartbreak and holiness all at once.
When the Storm Doesn’t End
I thought that was the end of the hurricane.
I was wrong.
The quiet afterward was worse.
That’s when I realized I had a choice:
I could let this destroy me —
or I could plant my feet and learn how to stand again.
Not fix everything.
Not rush it.
Just take one small step forward.
The Framework That Saved Me
Looking back, every storm broke the same parts of my life:
Health
Family
Purpose
Finances
I didn’t build a framework because I wanted to.
I built it because I needed one.
Those anchors became a compass.
Life moves in stages — especially during loss and crisis:
Survival → Stability → Significance
Most people aren’t failing.
They’re just expecting too much of themselves too soon.
The question isn’t “How do I fix everything?”
It’s “Where am I right now?”
A Calm Place to Start
That’s why this series exists.
You don’t need everything today.
You just need a calm place to start.
In the next episode, I’ll walk you through the Four Life Pillars and why, when one collapses, everything else feels unstable.
For now, know this:
You are not broken.
You are not behind.
And you don’t have to navigate this season alone.
If all you did today was listen — that’s enough.
It’s a Good Life.
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