What a Difference a Year Makes

Today, June 1, was a quiet anniversary for me.  One year ago, I made one of the biggest moves in my young broadcasting career.  I quit.

The reason was simple: my body just couldn't take it anymore.  I was at the height of my Graves Disease. My eyes were puffy and watery.  My legs and feet were swollen to the size of footballs.  My metabolism was lethargic.  My energy was drained.  I needed to make a change, and after talking with my doctors and close loved ones, I knew leaving the stress of my job was step number one.

I was scared yet hopeful.  TV news was the only professional life I'd known for the previous decade.  I felt like stepping away was like taking a step back.  What good was all the hard work in becoming an anchor in market #23 if I was just going to give it up?

Turns out it was great.  The last year has been full of a level of happiness I hadn't seen or felt in a long time...since 2008, at least.  Since leaving the newsroom, I've made my health a priority.  I went to the Mayo Clinic in December, and they put me back on the right track.  With the help of my new endocrinologist in Richmond, I'm as close to normal as I've been since I was diagnosed (blood/hormone-wise).  My symptoms have stopped getting worse and, in some ways, have improved.  I'm eating better and exercising more.  And for those of you who don't know, I've decided to go back to school.

YOU are the best investment you can make, whether it's through happiness, health, education, or all of the above.  Like they say on the airplanes, when it comes time to use the oxygen mask, put yours on first before helping others.  It's not selfish.  What good are you if you can't give a friend your all?

I'd be remiss if I didn't say THANK YOU to my supportive family and friends who've been with me on this journey every step of the way.  I love each and every one of you.  Much appreciation and gratitude, too, to my former Charlotte employer–particularly Joe and Julie–for their understanding and kindness.

I'm in a wonderful place right now, and I know things will only get better.  Don't get me wrong — there are times when I miss reporting the news of the day.  But the best is yet to come, and I'm not looking back!

Where Do You See Yourself in Five Years?

You know Kenneth on "30 Rock," the TV show?  That was almost me.

Not the role, but the position of NBC Page.  Nine years ago, I applied to the prestigious NBC Page Program.  I made it to the final round, and I know exactly why they didn't offer me a position.  I didn't tell them what they wanted to hear.

About eight of us applicants were seated around a board room table (ala "The Apprentice"), and the question was, "Where do you see yourself in five years?"  One by one, people rattled off their answers.  "I want to be a TV reporter in a Top 50 market," said one.  "I will be an editor at the Today Show," said another.  "I will have earned my master's degree, married my college sweetheart, had our first child, and begun working as a field producer for Dateline."  Pretty specific.

My answer, however, was the black sheep in the room.  Instead of something so scripted and expected, I took a more philosophical approach.  "I don't know where I'll be, and I'd be foolish to pretend like I do," I said.  "But I hope wherever I am—whether it be a small-market anchor, a network production assistant, or a position in a completely unrelated field—I hope I act with purpose, stay true to my values, and avoid regret every step of the way."  I see now how that might've seemed like a dodgy response, but I'm pretty sure I was the only one in the room who genuinely meant every word he said.

2008 Dancing with the Albany Stars Champion
Never thought I'd win a Mirror Ball trophy!

I had reason to be so idealistic, too.  If you'd asked me five years earlier, my answer probably would have been that I was going to be applying to medical school, not the NBC Page Program.  And it certainly wouldn't have included experiences like running a commercial radio station in Charlottesville, Va.  Moreover, sitting in that board room high atop 30 Rock, I had no idea that a year later I would be graduating with honors from Columbia University.  Or that five years later I would be diagnosed with a life-altering, incurable autoimmune disease.

This applies to all of us.  I've come to learn that life isn't about how well we plan for the future so much as how we make the most of present opportunities (though, just because I realize this doesn't mean I practice it well).  We don't know what tomorrow might bring, but we all know what today has brought.  Sure, there's something to be said for having a direction to follow in our lives, and I'm not advocating that anyone wander aimlessly professionally or personally.  But asking someone their career goals, their motivations, and their interests is a different question than, "Where do you see yourself in five years?"  Think about it.  Why not just ask, "What are your career goals?  What are your motivations?  What interests you?"

Needless to say, you can probably tell I don't like the "five years" question.  In fact, I was asked a similarly phrased question in a recent interview, and my answer was akin to what you're reading here.  I started by explaining my career goals, motivations, and interests, then I admitted I couldn't say what the next five years would bring.  I stressed to the interviewer that I didn't mean it as an insult or criticism of her question, but rather it was the most honest answer I could give.  She kindly took me at my word.  Fortunately I got the position.

The Day I Met His Holiness the Dalai Lama

This is an excerpt about the time I met His Holiness the Dalai Lama from an essay I wrote recently. He was in Albany in the spring of 2009 on a promotional tour. Before his speech to a sold-out crowd, he met with a dozen or so reporters and photographers from the Capital District. It was an experience I'll never forget.

He seemed taller in person, and for someone who travels the world with such frequency at his age, I thought he was quite nimble. His Holiness the Dalai Lama was moving down a line of reporters, thanking them after a media briefing. His people urged him to hurry up--especially since he had talked with the reporters for nearly an hour instead of the allotted 30 minutes, pushing him even further behind schedule. But he insisted on greeting each one. Some asked for autographs, and amazingly he complied without having to stop moving. As he approached me, I held out my hand. That was when he stopped right in his tracks.

“You’re shaking,” he said with a laugh, as if to wonder if I were cold. In the fractions of a second that followed, my brain wanted to laugh with him or explain I was nervous to meet him. Instead, my mouth uttered five words that were difficult to tell even some of my closest friends.

“I have a thyroid disease,” I replied.

Indeed just about a month before, I was diagnosed with Graves’ Disease. It is an incurable, auto-immune disease that, for me, required radiation and a daily pill. I had lost 30 pounds in the four months prior to diagnosis--a byproduct of my speeding heart rate and metabolism. So was my trembling.

His Holiness immediately placed his palms over my throat, bowed his head, and appeared to say a meditation. After a few seconds, he was finished. Then he looked me in the eyes and said, “Be happy.” Just moments before, he had told us reporters that happiness is the purpose of our lives; however, 18 months would pass before I understood what he meant.