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Spring Break!

happiness,

pier

Our vacation is coming to a close. We’ve been at my in-laws for over a week now. We officially came down for Spring Break and for the annual family Passover celebration, but of course it is a lot more than that. For me, besides getting to see the family and relax with the kids, the trips down here are a chance for me to surf.

I’ve surfed most mornings, the exceptions being one day where my wife was at a conference, and some others where the waves were too small and my wife was a bit tired. We figured out last year that getting that morning surf makes it so it doesn’t matter so much what I do for the rest of the day. In the past, I would often feel frustrated that I hadn’t done anything during the day, or I would feel restless and stuck at the house and often feel a bit depressed. With surfing I feel that I accomplished something important and everything else is icing on the cake. I can enjoy playing with the kids and just lounging around the house. In addition to having “accomplished” something, I also enjoy the time to sit and just be. I tend to appreciate my kids a lot more. I reflect on my concerns and often find myself more open to different possibilities and ideas.

On my first day out during this trip conditions were a bit too big for me and I wasn’t able to catch a single wave and was initially a bit frustrated. But then I reminded myself that I hadn’t surfed for about 2 months. I ended up being okay with the fact that I made it out past the waves despite the hard paddle. Since then the conditions have been much more in line with my abilities and I’ve had a lot more fun.

The surfing highlight of the week was perhaps my second morning when the dolphins were in a particularly playful mood. One of the many great aspects of surfing here is that that dolphins are almost always present, and they come in close to shore. On that day, there was a pod of dolphins doing acrobatics, chasing fish, catching waves(It’s well documented) and just being a joy to watch. I find the animals so amazing, and I have the definite sense that they are very aware of the surfers out there, and while the don’t play with you, the seem to acknowledge you somehow. Especially when they surf waves, it seems to me a playful jab at humans for being so ungraceful in the water. I’m sure I’m personifying the dolphins, but they truly are a wonder to observe playing so close by.

Other than surfing. We had several family dinners, the kids got to spend time with their grandparents and cousins. I got to see come colleagues from grad school and got my fix of fish tacos (you can’t get decent ones where I live). I also watched a couple of movies that I’ve been meaning to catch up on, played with the kids in the hot tub, and I even had a meeting with a prospective employer! I don’t think it is something that I want to pursue, but I was practicing being open to opportunities and connections. I also sent in a cover letter and resume to a company near my home that is doing some rapid-prototyping and design work. Haven’t heard anything back, but I’m proud of following through a chance encounter(in this case with a job listing).

The one downside of going surfing early in the morning is that I tend to be a bit tired in the afternoons. However, the peace, clarity and joy I get from surfing (and the dolphins) more than make up for it. I just need to figure out how I could get more surfing in at home. So thanks to my in-laws for opening their home to use and giving us all such a wonderful week and me the chance to surf!

The Flu and going public

depression

public_bathroom-1
I fell behind a bit in this blog this past week. As I’ve mentioned before, at least one person in the house has been sick, non-stop, since the beginning of January. This last week it was my turn. Despite getting the flu shot, I ended up with a full-on 5-day flu. I haven’t had the flu in at least 15 years and I had forgotten what it was like to have a fever several days in a row. On the bright side I got to finish Haruki Murakami’s latest book, 1Q84. It had been sitting next to my bed for months but I couldn’t seem to even open it. I had other books I was reading and I’ve been so busy recently. Since I was sick and in bed I finally had the time! His books tend to be a bit dreamlike anyways, so reading in between the spikes in my fever made for an interesting experience. It happened several times that I wasn’t sure if what I was reflecting on in the book had really happened or I had dreamt it. Several of these imagined happenings worked their way into some of my fever-induced nightmares which was kind of funny. It didn’t turn out to be my favorite Murakami book and it’s probably not the best introduction for someone new to his work but I still enjoyed it a lot.

The other benefit of having the flu was that I got to practice my mindfulness. I worked on just accepting the situation (I had a fever and a horrendous cough and wasn’t sleeping much) and on reminding myself that this was temporary. I had to mentally keep chanting “this will pass” several nights just to make it through the fevers. I had the naïve notion that my flu would mark the grand finale of this family’s non-stop illness this winter, but I was proved wrong when my younger daughter came down with what seems to be the same flu that I had. I’m really hoping my older daughter doesn’t get it next. Besides seeing the kids suffer and not sleeping we are leaving for the in-laws at the beach next week and I want to get as much surfing in as I can. Keeping my fingers crossed.

So what I’m really intending this post to be about is that this blog hasn’t been made public yet. That’s not to say that it’s not accessible, I just haven’t told very many people about it. I actually haven’t told a single friend or family member (other than my wife). By not really trying to reach anyone, this blog serves as a sort of diary. I have to work on it some, since I know I have at least a couple of readers(wife and life coach). My wife commented that I am much more open in these writings than I am when it comes to talking about what is going on in my life. So besides serving as a place for me to write and reflect on my life this blog also helps me communicate with my wife!

I have mixed thoughts about going public. I think the original intent behind this blog was to use my experiences to possibly help others in a similar situation. I was asked what the worst possible response to my blog would be and I realized that I didn’t really have one. I think I’ve been fairly open in this project, maybe because I know almost no one is reading it and I’m anonymous for the most part. Still, it’s hard for me to imagine that anyone could really care about what I write. I answered that I guessed the worst possible response would be someone saying that my writing was shit and that the blog is a waste of time. Even that doesn’t faze me too much. I think the person I was talking to was looking more for how my blog might impact someone or how someone might say that I was hopeless and doomed to a life of depression and melancholy. The thought didn’t even cross my mind because I have a hard time imagining that my experience could really make enough of an impact, positive or negative in someone’s life that they would bother to read it and feel strongly enough to respond.

In a scenario where I try to spread word of this blog indirectly it doesn’t seem so scary to go public. I can hide behind a veil of anonymity and keep writing as freely as ever. Perhaps someone who recognized enough about my life would realize it was me, but it still wouldn’t be as if I personally invited them to read it. What I find really scary is the idea of directly telling friends or acquaintances about this blog(e.g. linking to it on my Facebook page or something). Exposing my thoughts and worries is something I rarely do even with close friends. Thus, to imagine friends and acquaintances reading about my failings and depression is too uncomfortable. I’m afraid I would start self-editing and end up without this space to write about and reflect on the things I go through.

I also feel somewhat presumptuous when I imagine advertising this blog. I ask myself “who do you think you are that anyone would want to read what you write, let alone get anything from it?” Thinking about this some more, I realize that the same sentiment carries over into my life as a whole. If I keep my head down and not strive for anything visible then I’m safe, no one pays attention to me and I don’t set myself up for failure. When I’m in one of my melancholy or depressed states it’s hard for me to believe that my being or existence could really impact anyone’s life. Granted having a dad is probably good for the girls, and my family and wife love me, but other than I don’t see much value in me existing. I can’t even really believe that I have much of an impact in my friends’ lives. In my less depressed states, I don’t necessarily think that I matter, but I can at least focus on the benefits I provide my family.

So I end at somewhat of a conflicted place. I’m obviously writing this stuff down and part of me wants someone else to read it and get something from it, but it feels safer to imagine it’s just me writing in some sort of diary. Also, if I don’t advertise then I am not being presumptous and full of myself. So I guess I want people to read this, but not necessarily people I know and I don’t want to come across as presumptous as to how this blog could help anyone. Does a blog about melancholy and depression make a difference if no one is around to read it?

Dancing does me in

depression
Trying to smile in photos is also something that makes me really uncomfortable
Trying to smile in photos is also something that makes me really uncomfortable

My daughter’s school just had their annual fundraiser a big auction and dinner. It was a serious production with a band, sit down dinner and all kinds of donations from local businesses and from wealthy parents. I find it sad that public schools have to go to such lengths to get enough money these days, but that is another discussion in itself. The theme of the auction was “The 80s”. I went with “business casual”: a coat with shoulder pads, a skinny tie, some amazingly bad jeans that I found at a thrift shop and slip on Vans. I even parted my hair like I used to in Junior High. Despite the silliness of the clothing, I still felt a bit frumpy looking. My wife found a fantastic dress and accessories and looked great. After the dinner and auction there was dancing, and despite all the costumes and decorations it took that to really sent me for a time warp back to the 80s.

I’ve never really been comfortable dancing. I enjoyed my junior high dances (in the 80s of course) because in addition to the dance floor they had an adjacent room with ping pong and other table games. I would hang out on the dance floor a bit, only dancing if at all during slow songs, otherwise I was up against the wall somewhere, talking with friends or in the game room. I think I kind of identify with the nerdy guys/wallflowers in Sixteen Candles. Having something to do other than just stand or sit by yourself was a salvation. I didn’t attend many school dances once I got to high school because there wasn’t a game room to escape to.

Anyhow, the dance phobia came roaring back at the auction. I didn’t even try to get on the dance floor, as soon as our table of friends got up to dance I found some excuse to go upstairs so I could watch and not look completely idiotic sitting at the table by myself. I was the only person out of the group of friends who wasn’t dancing. This has happened before, but hearing some of the same songs that used to be played at my junior high such “It Takes Two” by Rob Base and DJ E-Z Rock.

and “Pour Some Sugar On Me” by Def Leppard (BTW, the lead singer’s jeans are awesome in that video)

and being so unable to dance made it worse. Here I am, almost 25 years out of Junior High and I still freeze up when it comes to dancing. I still remember a large group of students in junior high all dancing to “It Takes Two” throwing their hands up in time to the music, just having fun, and even way back then feeling bad that I didn’t have the courage or freedom to join the huge circle and have fun. At the auction I tried to entertain myself by watching the band play, but I felt pretty exposed and stupid. I really longed for a game room that night.

I could distance myself from the emotions and realize that I was older and not in junior high anymore. I have danced at times, I have a wonderful wife and even if I wasn’t dancing with her I felt comfort in that she was still there. I didn’t have to worry about never finding someone to be with that would understand me. I think she was still frustrated with me but she didn’t make a big deal out of it, she’s been with me long enough to not be surprised about my avoidance of dancing. Despite my tendency to avoid dancing, the desire to dance with some skill or freedom, to be able to really have fun on the dance floor is really strong. It’s not as if I’ve never been able to dance, but the times are few and generally I just feel too self conscious and uncoordinated and try to get out of doing it. I can’t even do it when I’m alone in the dark, the feeling of awkwardness and embarrassment is too strong. The thoughts that go through my mind are a constant awareness that I don’t know what to do with my body, mostly my upper body. I can shuffle my feet, but the arms just feel useless and clunky. The sole exception to this fear of dancing was when I took salsa classes at the Y during college. Having a choreographed routing made it okay to dance, I didn’t have to come up with what to do with my body, I didn’t go out dancing in clubs, but I loved the classes.

As the night ended we carpooled back home with the friends from our table. No one said anything about me not dancing and they probably didn’t care, but I still felt awkward. The next day I was in a foul mood. At the time I didn’t associate it with the party the night before, but I’m pretty sure that was the cause. The night served as a reminder that I am so unable to participate in groups or fun activities at times because I get so self conscious. My mood finally lifted when I found the charger for my Bluetooth speaker phone that had been missing for about 6 months. I had given up hope of ever finding it, and since it’s one of those silly proprietary connectors I didn’t want to spend the money on a new cable(I really don’t like talking while driving anyways). I had been really annoyed for losing it along with a head-mounted light around the same time. Losing things really bugs me for some reason, so finding it was a nice feeling.

Now a few days out, I’ve been in a relatively constant low state for awhile. My wife is getting sick again, and it turns out that my older daughter tested positive for Mononucleosis(hence the seemingly never ending cold), and I may be getting sick again as well so all that is factoring in. However, I still think coming face to face again with that familiar inability to dance really set the stage. It serves as a reminder about how little progress I’ve made in that area over my life and it also easily morphs into a much bigger statement about my inability to do anything in life. I’m trying to remind myself about the successes I have accomplished, but it’s been hard to do, much more so if I try to believe anything I’m telling myself. So, to end on a positive note, cheers to my charging cable for showing up! And I have to say it was kind of fun seeing these videos again after all these years.

Inspired by St. Valentine

happiness, love

running001

So I think due to all of the stress going on at home since I started this blog I have somewhat drifted away from the original intent of paying more attention to the positive things in my life. I mean, I could launch into yet another illness related post here: my wife was sick over the weekend and I now have a persistent cough and sore throat. However, rather than do that and in honor of Valentine’s Day last week, I hope you will indulge me while I write about the best thing in my life, my wife. More specifically the story of how we met.

So as I mentioned in the About section here on the blog, we’ve been together for about 15 years now. We actually met for the first time a week from today 15 years ago. The encounter itself was an odd string of coincidences and decisions that used to keep me up at night with panic realizing that I almost didn’t meet her.

It was my senior year at college. A few weeks prior to our meeting I had run into an old friend from the dorms at a local coffee shop. He told me that his band was going to be playing at a party at a bar the next week, and that I should check it out. I was planning on going out that night anyhow since it coincided with my birthday. I made plans to meet up with some friends and go hear the band. I took the metro to the city where the party was to be held. I had planned to call my friends from the payphone at the metro station when I arrived so they could come pick me up. However, when I tried to call, I kept getting a recording saying that the line was not available. Since I had nothing else to do that evening I sat at the underground station for about 2 hours trying to call every 15 minutes or so. I was tempted to call it a night and head home a few times, but I stuck with it and eventually I got through. It turned out that the phones were off on my friend’s block due to construction. It’s funny to think that for people just a few years younger than me that whole scenario is totally foreign. First of all, I don’t think you could find a payphone in a metro stop anymore because almost everybody has a cellphone. It seems that fewer and fewer people have a landline anymore! I’m a bit old fashioned and still have and actually prefer using a landline, but I digress.

My friends picked me up and we drove to the site of the party. We got to the club/bar and there were two girls smoking out front. I mentioned my friend and his band and was it alright if we went in? It turned out that party was the birthday celebration for one of those girls. We wished each other happy birthday and I went downstairs into a huge space. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but it turned out to be totally and completely…. dead. There were some bored bartenders waiting around and a group of maybe 5 people sitting on some couches near the bottom of the stairs. I didn’t see anyone I recognized. Suddenly this beautiful girl came up to us to say hi and find out who we were and what we were doing there. I remember her huge smile and her clothes and shoes which implied she might have been a raver. My friends and I being the types to save money when we could (and not having a lot of money anyhow) had brought beer from the local liquor store hidden in our coats, so we went to sit down at a table to chat and drink. She came over a little bit later and after talking to all of us she started talking primarily to me. I also remember the way she stared so intently into my eyes when we talked. As the night progressed we would talk for awhile, then she would go off to see friends(it started filling up later) and I would talk with my friends, then we would talk some more.

It was an amazing night, we had all kinds of interests and experiences in common and it was so easy to talk. We had both lived abroad, we both spoke Spanish (her via living abroad). There were many people we knew in common, even though we had never met. Anyhow at some point it was time for my friends and I to go. I have always been extremely insecure about expressing interest in girls and of getting rejected, so I wasn’t harboring any plans of trying to see her again and said something to the effect of “it was really nice meeting you and I hopefully I’ll see you on campus” and left. At the top of the stairs my friend said “Dude, are you going to get her number? She was totally into you!” I was a bit surprised, but after some forceful prodding I went back down to ask if I could call her sometime. She said she would “really like that” and wrote her number down on a metro ticket(which I still have). So my friend from the dorms and his band never showed up, but it was a worthwhile night.

Swingers(the movie) had been out for about a year, so the “wait 3 days” mantra was firmly in my head. On the fourth day I called her number but she wasn’t in and I left a message. I called once a week for the next 3 weeks since she was either of town, or I got the answering machine. I felt dumb but really wanted to reconnect. On the final call, I said that just in case she had missed the previous calls I was leaving my last and final message. Didn’t hear a word. I was bummed, but chalked it up to my usual bad luck with women. I’d actually been in a similar situation a few months before where I was getting signals of interest but no returned phone calls. What killed me the most was how sincere the “I would really like that” has seemed. This rejection served as confirmation that I was better off not making the effort to start a relationship since I was just going to get rejected anyhow. I shouldn’t have gone back and asked for her number, it would have been safer to just leave with the memory of having a really nice night talking with her and my friends. Oh well. I resigned myself to not meeting anyone, and it didn’t seem to matter since I would be graduating in a few months.

Those months passed. As part of graduating we had to attend “Loan Exit Interviews”. It was an informational session about loan repayments and deferments options. I chose a date at random, and got there early. About 10 minutes in the girl I had met at the party walked in. I was trying to convince myself that I didn’t find her attractive anymore but it didn’t work. I then decided that I was not going to go up to her(why get rejected twice?) and wait for her to leave before I did. That didn’t work either. She stood at the foot of the seats while everyone was leaving and seemed to be jotting down information. She stopped me and flashed a smile and said my name as if questioning her memory. I hadn’t forgotten hers, but I played dumb. We talked and talked all the way back to campus. In the interim since our first meeting we had both independently decided to move to the same city(far from where we currently were). She remembers me using a golf umbrella as a cane, and I remember her eyes and mouth (and this overwhelming desire to kiss her). We came to a junction on campus where we split ways, and this time I gave her my number(I wasn’t about to get rejected twice!). I wasn’t sure what to expect but she called a few days later and we talked a lot during the next couple of weeks before we went on our first date, the rest is history.

Recalling this story is interesting. I don’t go into the cold sweats I used to reliving all the events that led to us meeting; the encounter with my friend at the coffee shop, waiting at the metro stop, the chance encounter at the loan exit interview. I used to wonder, what if I had given up on reaching my friends via the payphone? I didn’t sit in the metro station for as long as I did because I felt that there was a larger purpose or something important was going to happen. Rather, I didn’t have anything better to do, and I was feeling a bit stubborn and sorry for myself. What if she hadn’t gotten up earlier than usual to go that specific exit interview? From the beginning of our dating it felt so right and meant to be. Despite the distance from the cold sweats, so many things aligned perfectly for us to meet that it still seems scary. Our relationship was the first time that the idea of fate or synchronicity seemed remotely possible.

I am also reminded that taking risks and being disappointed is often necessary to achieve greater things. If I hadn’t sat at the metro station for as long as I did or if I hadn’t asked for her number I might have avoided the disappointment of not having her call me back. However, I wouldn’t have met what I truly consider the closest possible thing to a “soul mate”. I think I need to keep that in mind in regards to other aspects of my life. I tend to minimize my exposure to risk or failure and I think that gives me a sense of safety but it’s very shortsighted. What other great things in my life am I missing out on because it’s too scary to fail?

What I also feel in recounting this story is the joy and lightness and warmth that we had when we first met. It’s like a getting a whiff of a perfume and instantly being transported to a different time or place or really having a vivid memory of someone. For me our story is a whiff of the excitement and discovery that we had getting to know each other and also a reminder that my wife is such amazing and stunning person. Going back to when we first met helps distance me from the stress of our lives now and reminds me that she is her own person with her own dreams and longings. Remembering she is separate from me makes her more real and precious and makes me desire her even more. It reminds me how much I love and appreciate her and how I cannot imagine my life without her. It makes me want to treat her as I did when we first met, and be more happy to do things for her rather than bitch and moan when she asks me to get something or I have to interrupt whatever I am doing(especially when I am tired).

So to my wife, I love you so much more than I can ever tell or show you and despite all the stress and craziness I love my life with you. And to all the players involved in us meeting, I’m eternally grateful.

My teacher?

Uncategorized

Infrared Daughter

The illnesses continue! My older daughter is beginning to get better, her cough isn’t as constant as it was, and she doesn’t turn as red when she does cough. However my younger daughter is now going through it. Over the weekend she developed pink eye and an ongoing fever. Today we found out that she has 1) Pneumonia 2) each ear has an infection and 3) hives! It’s gotten to the point that even though I was up every hour last night and am quite sleep deprived, I still find this so absurd that I have to laugh. Maybe it should be “because” I’m so sleep deprived rather than “even though” But seriously, when things get so over the top (and no one is horribly suffering) what else can I do? In more upbeat news I fixed my modified infrared camera.. For sometime it wouldn’t see anything when I tried to take pictures, I could look at old ones on the screen but any new ones would come out black.  I think the CCD cables were loose. I was so happy to get it working again, I had already started scoping out replacement cameras to dismantle and modify. The cover photo for this post is my older daughter shot with that camera, still a little sick.

It’s interesting seeing how differently the girls behave when they are sick or at least run down. My younger one gets a little destructive when she’s not feeling well and she appears much more withdrawn than usual, she also gets a little defiant but nothing major. She’ll tell us that something hurts, but she doesn’t really complain or put on as big of a show as my older daughter. My older one complains to no end about the slightest pain, to put it bluntly she whines a lot, and also tends to get really obstinate or defiant and act out.

Whining is always annoying but I’ve noticed this past week that when I’m tired whining REALLY bugs me. But what gets me even more worked up is when my older daughter starts yelling and becomes defiant. When I’m reasonably rested I can tolerate it to some degree, it still really upsets me, but I manage to keep it under control. However, if I’m already in a bad mood, the defiance and yelling trigger something deep in me. It is a huge task to stay calm, to not get aggressive with her. A few months ago during one of her screaming-and-kicking hold-the-door time-outs I got so upset that I threw the door open, restrained her and got right up in her face and yelled at her to stop it. She was kind of freaked out and crying and my wife had to go in and calm her down. I was too upset that night to apologize, and the next day she was telling her teacher that I had yelled at her and scared her. I apologized the next day for losing control and scaring her. I don’t like the way I acted and it really scared me that I could get so worked up. I guess what most bugs me about all this is that I get so deeply resentful when she acts this way. She’s just a 5 year old who is prone to tantrums and acting out. I actually just ran across an article talking about things we can still teach girls to empower them in the future. It’s an interesting problem because I really want to empower her, to have her feel free to express her emotions and act against injustices and I want her to grow up not being afraid to act out because she is a woman. However, gender aside, when that acting out is against me it’s so hard to take.

I think I have such a hard time with her acting out, because I learned early on that it was not okay for me to act out or have strong emotions. I still remember being put into a cold shower with all my clothes for “being out of control” when I was 6 or 7. I don’t remember what the issue was but even years later my parents just said I was too upset or worked up. Later, while coming into puberty I started having fights with my dad. They weren’t full on punching fights, but more an aggressive and angry wrestling. Once, coming back from the mountains my dad and I started fighting over leg room in the back seat. This was before the super strict child seat laws so my sister was up front with my mom. It got heated and my mom pulled over so my dad could drive, so as to separate us. I was so upset that I jumped out of the car and ran up an abandoned off-ramp. My mom had to eventually coax me down back to the car. At another point I was watching TV in my parent’s room and my dad came and grabbed the remote and changed the channel. I got mad and tried to take it back. We ended up once again in an angry aggressive wrestling match. My mom came in screaming at my dad to knock it off and tried to break us up. She ended up with a sprained wrist, and I was sent to my room. I jumped out the window and ran away for several hours until my dad found me and asked me to come home. I still remember my sister crying in her window watching me ride away on my bike. The other incident I still remember is my dad trying to talk to me during a camping trip. I don’t remember the details, but I must have done some earlier in the day and he wanted to talk to me about it. I kept saying no, or repeating something contrary to what he was saying and he got fed up and punched me in the mouth. I didn’t bleed but it hurt and really scared me.

It wasn’t until I saw my first therapist during graduate school that I even considered that what my parents had done wasn’t okay. I had always figured that was how one dealt with an “out of control” child and that I had deserved it. But I now realize that my parents probably learned at an early age as well that it was not okay to have really strong reactions or to appear out of control in any way. I also find it interesting that my dad was acting in such a childish manner. You’d think that a grown adult could handle an unruly child in a better way. However, I can see that it’s only a small step between restraining a child and fighting over a remote control or leg space or punching someone in the mouth.
What I think I am working on these days is learning that is okay for me to have strong emotions or to get worked up at times. How that gets channeled is important, but I think in the long run it’ll be healthier than trying to bottle everything up. It’s amazing to see my older daughter who really has no problems with that at all. She is very free in her emotions and behaviors, even if it does annoy me at times. I guess my other work is finding out how to teach her to respect her emotions and not make her scared to let people know what she feels, but also how to deal with it as a parent. I think she, and her sister, have a lot to teach me.

Back up for air(for now)

Uncategorized

dolls-1

Okay, I’m back. As my last post may indicate, last week was not so good. Between a lack of sleep brought on by my younger daughter’s never-ending cold, a resistant older daughter who refused to go to sleep for three nights in a row (and each night ended up in a room with me holding the door shut while she screamed and kicked for about half an hour), and who incidentally is still coughing, a snapping and irritable wife, and then stupid stuff like my multimeter malfunctioning and my car having issues, I kind of short circuited. I tried to follow some of the tips from my (man)bag of tricks but either they didn’t help or I couldn’t expend the energy to try hard enough. I walked down to the beach during my lunch break which normally helps, but I was still in such a foul mood. The “killed by muggers fantasy” that I mentioned is a reoccurring one in which I get held up at gun point and rather than hand my wallet or whatever over I just start screaming at them to kill me since I hate my life anyways. The idea behind this is that suicide makes it harder for the family to collect life insurance (though not impossible) and in my low states I see my only worth as the money life insurance would provide my family. Anyways, what was interesting was that the previous weekend and beginning of the week had gone so well. I was actually going to post on how having a concrete task or goal (at work at least) really made me feel good. After the depression kicked in nothing really helped until I attended a social event later in the week.

The beginning of the week was such a contrast. I had been very focused at work the prior weekend and into Tuesday preparing a presentation for a conference being held this past weekend. Everything involved in preparing the presentation such as generating figures from the data, making videos, editing the presentation slides etc, made me feel like I had some purpose. A lot of my issues at work stem from feeling so inadequate compared to my co-workers. I don’t seem to have the same drive or perseverance in coming up with new ideas and implementing them. I also don’t seem to have an expertise. Most of my duties fall in the support realm; at times I think I am just an overpaid technologist. Not knocking the technologists, they do a lot of work and have to put up with inane management decisions but it’s not my job title. I’m supposed to be investigating more, coming up with new ideas, creating new things. To repeat, I feel inadequate compared to my colleagues. I gave my practice talk on Tuesday morning to the group, and was so surprised to get such good feedback. I don’t know what I was expecting, and I’m generally confident on my public speaking abilities, but the critiques were minor and well thought out and people really seemed to like it. After that I was feeling capable and confident for once. Maybe I was a good speaker! Maybe I could do science! Maybe I do enjoy what I am doing!

That warm glow faded by the time I got home due to all the craziness. I’ve mentioned this before but I don’t do well when the kids are sick. A controlled experiment in which the kids are sick but I get enough sleep would be interesting, but back here on Earth, I have a hard time handling it. When adults are sick, there is much less whining involved, well usually, and especially if you don’t count me. Okay scratch that, we just seem to get sick less often. Also with my kids, I usually feel useless. They don’t stop crying when I wake up to tend to them, so that forces my wife to get up, which makes her more tired , which eventually leads to her snapping at me, which makes me feel worse, which leads me to make snide comments, which makes my wife angrier. It’s a lovely cycle.

It’s now a few days after the conference and I’m doing better. The conference was in our city, so the night before it started a colleague hosted a dinner at her house with our group and some visiting ones. There was good company, absolutely amazing wine and food and the view was pretty insane too. I got to see some friends I hadn’t seen for awhile. It was fun. My talk went well (I was the only one in the group to give an oral presentation) and I got some good feedback and interest from people outside our group. Also breaking up the normal routine and being at home so little made me appreciate my kids again. I even(wait for it!) initiated sex with my wife on Sunday night! We both commented on how when we have sex we remember how good we are together, but we are usually too stressed or tired to get around to it. It was nice to feel connected for a short while at least.

I’m not sure what the moral of this story is. The obvious points for me are that having a very clear task on hand at work makes me feel much better. I tend to enjoy and do at least a decent job of public speaking. I am able to miss and appreciate my family when I am away from them for at least two days. Also, doing something social with people I know seems to help, perhaps it’s feeling connected that does it. I’m actually going to add that to my tricks list.

Unfortunately it seems my wife now is coughing and is tired and stressed, so I’m already noticing a decline in my mood. Since I’m not deep into depression yet(really don’t want to get mugged), and I’m getting some more sleep I’ll see if some of the (man)bag tricks help. I hope so, since I don’t have a conference to escape to this time around.

Today everything is shit

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Foul mood(having my “getting killed by muggers fantasy” again). I tried to write something for the blog(3 failed attempts) but it all feels like shit, and I don’t even have the energy or care enough to spend time writing something other than a “Everything is shit” diatribe.

Sorry I didn’t get a post up.

Drowning

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My copihue
My copihue

My post last week ended with my daughter coughing. My premonition was correct and we’ve had a hellish week with little sleep and a sick daughter. Towards the end of the weekend I was planning on writing about how happiness is bullshit, how I hate my life, I shouldn’t have had kids and that this blog is nothing but a stupid waste of time.

I never do well when the kids are sick (makes me question my parental aptitude a bit) but that wasn’t all that was going on.  I’m stressing about a dispute we’re having with our landlord over a proposed rent increase (our city has strict rent control regulations but we may have missed our window to fight it). My wife has been primarily focused and stressing about an IEP(Individual Education Plan) meeting with the school district requesting speech services for our daughter(the one who is sick right now).  My wife’s been irritable and snapping at me much more than usual and her snapping at me always makes me feel worse. In addition I think both my wife and I have been fighting off a cold, probably our daughter’s, for the past week. I’ve been tired in the evenings so a lot of projects have been put on the back burner. Surf has been too big and I’m not feeling 100%, so no surfing either.

On Sunday we were invited, along with the rest of the research group, to my advisor’s house for brunch. My sick daughter had been okay in the morning(although she threw and broke a point and shoot digital camera) but as we started getting ready to go, she started melting down, and wouldn’t stop crying. I was about ready to scream at this point. We decided that my wife and younger daughter would stay home, and I would go to the party with my older daughter. The drive to the party was when I decided to write the “life is crap” entry.  My advisor lives near some preserved open space, so after eating and socializing I went on a little hike with my daughter and some other attendees from the party (a family with two boys). Being outside in nature, seeing the kids playing, climbing hills, and throwing rocks in the stream was so healing. I was able to forget about the stressors for a little while. Even when my daughter tripped on a rock, bumped her knee and started to cry I was able to still feel calm and actually feel empathy rather than annoyance. After the party we came home and my parents came over. My mom cooked up a delicious stew and it felt so good to have my parents there and also to be taken care of a little bit.

Monday was a holiday, so I finally got to take care of some errands(oil change!) and after reflecting on the past week, purposefully went out back to take some photos. The pictures were of my Copihue (Chilean Bellflower). My parents are from Chile, and the Copihue is our national flower.  The plant is a vine and the flower is heavy and waxy and beautiful. When I found out that I could buy a plant locally several years ago I jumped at the opportunity. I guess it can be quite finicky to grow but ours did really well, it grew vigorously and by the second year it put out a bunch of flowers. I sent photos to the family back in South America and they were impressed and heartened by my success. This continued for a few years.  Last year I changed the vine into a new bigger pot. After a month it started wilting. No flowers developed, the leaves were looking brown and dry on the tips. I couldn’t figure out what was going on. Then about 4 months ago I found out that the new pot (plastic) was not draining enough and the plant was basically drowning. I drilled more holes in the bottom of the pot, filled the bottom with perlite and hoped for the best.

Flower buds appeared 2 months ago and the first flower bloomed last week.

Since Monday, things have gotten a bit better. My daughter is beginning to get over her cold. Less snot to wipe up(yeah!) and she’s in better spirits. The IEP meeting was on Tuesday. I loved seeing my wife be so assertive and authoritative. She participates in many IEPs for her work (usually representing her school district) so she was quite prepared. Unlike me she is not afraid to be seen as pushy or ruffle people’s feathers if she needs to. We got pretty much everything we had been wanting.

After hitting a bit of a stalemate with our landlord and it seeming as if we were irreversibly bound for mediation (probably due to some misinterpretation of e-mails), I changed course and wrote a heartfelt letter, detailing our relationship with the landlord, our view of the statutes and offered a compromise.  We’ve had a really good relationship with our landlord for the past 6 years, and I was saddened by the prospect of getting in a nasty fight. I don’t know if the letter will help us settle this amicably or lead to anything, but I feel good that I actually made an effort to reach out.

So things are calming down for now and we’ve been sleeping better. More importantly, I don’t feel like I’m drowning anymore.

 

The sun set on this latest round of happiness.

happiness

sunset-1

Last week went really well. I went to see Jaimal Yogis give a reading from his new book The Fear Project .  I discovered him by accident while looking for books about surfing and spirituality(Kook by Peter Heller, Saltwater Buddha by Yogis, and West of Jesus by Steven Kotler where the three I read).  His book Saltwater Buddha detailing his practicing of Zen Buddhism and surfing totally blew me away. I have a feeling that parts of that book will be the basis for many of my blog entries.  I admire his pursuit of leading a life that would let him be near the ocean and surf every day.  I particularly liked the way he used surfing as an analogy for some of the teachings of Buddhism.  It was weird; it was the first time I’ve read a book and really felt like the author could help me figure out what to do with my life. I felt like I had a million questions for him.  I didn’t dare ask anything during the question and answer session, but asked him a question about surfing a local beach break while getting the new book signed with my favorite quote from Saltwater Buddha “Samsara is Nirvana”. Specifically I was looking for tips on getting past the fear of dropping in on head high waves(small for proficient surfers, but it’s my current ceiling) I felt dumb afterwards since it seemed like a dumb question and he was rushed, but at least I stepped out of my comfort zone.

Later in the week, I was talking with a colleague while running an experiment and he said he had suggested me as a possible person for a new research institute his friend is starting up in a warmer coastal city. Normally, before even finding out more about the job I would have come up with reasons why I would be no good for the position(issues about moving, my deep seated conviction that I am not good at anything and thus couldn’t do the job, etc). However, this time I was able to just say “yes” to whether I was interested and just go with the flow. It felt good to think that this colleague had thought of me as a good person for this institute and I was able to put aside all the usual doubts and just let it be what it was. The next day another old friend called and filled me on the latest developments on his goal of setting up a math and science after-school academy for latino students. We have worked together in the past in similar projects, so he asked if I was still interested. Who knows if either goes anywhere, but two potential career options in two days!

Then Sunday, despite it being really really cold out, me being tired, and my neighbor deciding it didn’t look worth the drive, I went out for an early morning surf. I didn’t have high expectations, but I had a surprisingly good time. The waves were fun about “chin high” as a local website described it after the fact, and at least initially it wasn’t the usual crowded zoo. I caught 3 really fun waves in the time I was out. At this beach, the waves tend to close out(that is come down all at once, rather than peel off), but I was amazed to find longer rides and for once I was able to plan my attack down the wave. I could see where the wave was going to break and steer around it. I was even able to see bowls forming and use them to bank off of. Usually I just make the drop and then hope for the best. Towards the end it got too crowded and then I got caught in the inside with another guy and we kept getting tossed around by the waves and getting in the way of people actually riding waves so I decided to quit while I was ahead. I froze changing out of the wetsuit, and I found a ding on the board that I’ll have to fix before going out in the water with it again but it was so worth it!

I noticed however that as the rest of Sunday went on, the glow of the previous week started to fade.  My youngest daughter seems to have gotten a cold, and was up a lot on Sunday night. At some point I went in to try and comfort her, but she just kept crying and asking for mommy. Now, a day past the weekend, I’m back in the usual slump. My other daughter was driving me crazy by ignoring me and beginning to yell and scream when I asked her to change into her pajamas so I could read to her. I feel totally useless with both of them when they are upset. My younger daughter just keeps crying and calling for mom, and my older one just tends to escalate when I try to interact with her in those states. Then my wife has to take over and she seems annoyed with me the rest of the evening. The potential jobs now seem impossible, despite not having discussed either any more with my colleagues. On top of that I feel that my writing is crap, and I can’t believe I’m posting this for anyone to read.

(Deep breath) Since the purpose of this post is to try and focus on the happiness, I will give myself credit keeping the happiness stoked for as long as I did.

Okay, that was weird. I just went back through what I wrote a couple of minutes after initially writing it (despite the rambling I do make some effort at editing here). Reliving the experiences (especially the surfing) has made me feel noticeably better.  The kids don’t seem so overwhelming. No, wait, as I’m writing this the younger one just now yelled for mommy and started coughing her croupy cough and I can tell it’s going to be a long night, so maybe they are still a bit overwhelming.  At least I can entertain thoughts about the job opportunities again.

Melancholy what?

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manbagcroppdI’ve been depressed to some degree for a long long time. The severity has varied over the years, from what I remember as a near constant melancholy during my childhood to really thinking my family would be better off if I were dead after I had my first kid. These days I am doing okay, I think the depression is most present when I try to figure out what the hell I am going to do for a career after my grant runs out, and when my kids or family life gets stressful. Despite all the visible success in my life, I still feel like a failure. I feel too lazy, too dumb, too moody. I feel like something is missing in my life, a sense of purpose, or energy or excitement about something.

I first heard the term “depressed” associated with my state in grad school. During my first year of brutal coursework, I had felt stressed but I managed to do well on the exams. I felt I was learning something. After that, I found that I really didn’t do so well with the unstructured time I was supposed to devote to research. I was in the lab, but looking back I wasn’t all that productive. It was much more attractive to me to take classes, learn to surf, play in the jazz band, spend time with my girlfriend, etc. I found that I would feel stuck in research, not sure how to move forward or find it hard to focus enough to get anything done in the lab. It was much easier to focus on everything else. This worked for a few years, but eventually that inability to focus and complete lack of motivation crept into the extracurricular activities I was doing. That scared me enough to go to the counseling center, commencing what has been something like 10 years of therapy with various therapists.

During the course of this all this therapy an important theme has seemed to resurface time and time again (remembering it has been hard). It seems that I don’t let myself feel happy for very long.  I think I learned long ago somehow that it isn’t safe to let myself feel really happy or excited about something. It feels unsafe to me. I know that the happiness I’m feeling won’t last and that I will be disappointed and feel like a fool. I’ll probably be judged by others and made to feel stupid for ever being excited. This has been around for awhile. I remember in college, a girlfriend telling me that a friend had described me as never getting too excited about anything nor getting too upset. At the time I thought that was a good thing, but no longer.

Also affected by this inability to let myself feel excited about things is my assertiveness and inner sass/creativity/wild side. I was kind of a smart ass in early grade school. I remember talking back to teachers, particularly in 2nd and 6th grade. In sixth grade I really stood up for myself when I felt I was being treated unfairly (more details in a later post).

Sadly, that 6th grade rebel and person that stood up against unfairness and wasn’t afraid to be heard was crushed along the way. There was a brief visit of that person in 8th grade with a certain teacher, but she was smart and took me under her wing, and the need to rebel subsided.  The part of me who could get really emotional and worked up is also hidden or repressed. I remember my parents forcing me into a cold shower if I really got worked up. My poor girlfriend once told me to calm down while I was telling her about someone who had really made me mad, and I refused to talk about feelings with her for a long time.

I’m rambling, but the point of all this is to make the point that I’ve learned to repress any positive and generally really strong feelings.  To those close to me I’ve been able to express my depression and despair at times, but even to them it doesn’t feel safe to express too much happiness or excitement.

So, I’m proposing an experiment. I’m not a new-agey type, although I do appreciate mindfulness and meditation. By training I’m a scientist. The goal of this blog and experiment is to see if tracking the positive occurrences in my life and really celebrating them, no matter how small, will lead to a less “Depressed” state, increase my vitality and enjoy my life more. Even though I was moody as a kid, I still had hope and was excited about the future. Maybe if I can recapture that young spirit I can recapture that young hope and optimism.

I’m not sure what to expect here. I’ve seen enough happiness columns to understand that celebrating the positive is a helpful step, but the cynic and internal-happiness crusher(okay, a little melodramatic there) thinks I’ll probably screw this up and self-sabotage or something. But I’m pressing on.

If anything I’ve described here feels like something you are going through I invite you to join me in this journey. Perhaps this blog will help you find your way to what you want.

As for the Melancholy Manbag? Not sure where the “Manbag” came from. I could make up a bunch of reasons like issues of masculinity or this weird nostalgia for the 70s, even though I was born in that decade. Basically, I just liked the sound of it!