Always The Journey

Almost a year ago I wrote about how it felt to be starting to come out of a feeling of fog and sadness that had lasted for years. I wish I could say that it had been steady linear progress upwards, but it hadn't. I think it's pretty common to happen this way, with little fits and starts upwards and then backwards, sideways, ahead, and then finally noticeably better. I know that I can't count on feeling this good indefinitely; I'm living each day with gratitude and trying to make the best of each day.

I'm back to the point where I feel like I can concentrate fully again - I can concentrate the way I "used" to (back in...high school? middle school? some parts of college?) I feel like myself enough to get immersed in a topic and stay there, unmolested by the previously intrusive anxiety that compelled me to come up for air frequently, to look around, to check my phone for distractions. I feel like myself enough to do chores without a podcast or audiobook jabbering away in my ear; I relish time spent in silence now, I crave time to exist and to process and to think (but not to ruminate, to worry, to catastrophize, to project...)

I don't know exactly what the formula was that got me back to good, but if anyone is reading this from the bottom of one of those pits of despair and is looking for help or support, please contact me. I don't know if I really even have my own answers, much less anyone else's, but I'm willing to offer information on what seems to have worked for me. In general, I've been sleeping better. I've found an eating routine that works for me and means that my body seems to be fairly adept now at avoiding blood sugar spikes and crashes. I've been exercising moderately (and by that I mean VERY moderately but very consistently - my one rule for workouts is that I do work out but I never do a stressful workout.)  I've been praying. I've been resting A LOT - lots of days in bed with naps and little else. I found a hobby that I could start to get lost in (baking and cooking) again. I've been listening to podcasts that provide a type of spiritual direction that works very well for my particular mindset and emotional needs.

And all of a sudden, over the past few days, I realized I was ready again. Ready to work, ready to think, ready to talk. After I finish typing this, I'm going to work on renewing a professional certification and I'm actually *looking forward* to listening to the hours of technical content and working through lab exercises. I have an appetite for thinking and learning again, for technical material in addition to the spiritual and philosophical diet that I've been feeding my psyche for the past few months. I am so, so, very grateful. Holy f*ck. So grateful. 

AITA?

My brother died a couple years ago, and I have one of the cards from his funeral taped next to a photo of his final resting place on my flipper cabinet at work. It's not obvious (aside from its proximity to the funeral card) that the second photo is related in any way to my brother, and I've had a couple coworkers now ask what it is. I explain, and almost immediately see a flash of discomfort in their eyes. I'm not totally sure who the asshole is there, but I suspect that by many measures it is I.

At least one coworker immediately felt "bad" for "bringing it up" and I didn't know how to explain to him that the *whole blessed idea* of the photos is to "bring it up."  Maybe not "it" (whatever "it" is) but certainly "him." I don't want sympathy or pity but I *do* want to be able to say that I miss my brother. I do want to be able to talk about him. I do want to be able to have him present in my life the way that everyone else keeps their living family present with photos, stories, mementos, etc. One thing that has brought me comfort in my grief is the absolute knowing, enjoying, and even celebrating of where he (literally) is. I don't think that has to be shameful, although it certainly has been awkward at times.

Am I the asshole for reminding people that death is, in fact, a thing? That it happens, often unexpectedly, that we can't control it or bargain with it or do anything other than let it wash over us and try to accept it (or not?) That once it happens, its tendrils reach out to various and unexpected corners of our life? That sometimes death stares back at us from places we least expect? Are they the assholes for not wanting to confront whatever discomfort or aversion they feel that prevents them from carrying on any length of conversation with me about my dead sibling?

I think the reality of the situation is that nobody is the asshole. I want to remember Robert and to feel close to him and where he is now. Death is uncomfortable. It's okay for both things to be true, and valid, at the same time. Neither has to "win." Life is defined by the tension that arises between conflicting values and I think one component of living a genuine life is being able to honor multiple truths and acknowledge the multitude of values that may be at play in a given situation. At any rate, doing that is easier than the exhausting (and also blinding) mental gymnastics otherwise required to live unambiguously. 

N(Aimless)

Things changed today. I put the kids in the car for a day of wandering, and realized that the way I used to wander won't work for me (for us) anymore. I spent the past few years not caring where wandering took us; I could literally spend the whole day just driving (with stops for food and playgrounds, duh, I'm not a monster) but today I cared. Today I wanted to find things, to explore, to give the kids experiences that they could learn from, that would enrich them. Today I realized that after years of feeling fine just staying in the shadows, literally just surviving the days with maybe a few moments to think - today I finally wanted to engage with the world.

Today I feel alive.

We didn't stay out long before I brought them back home. It feels alive to be here, to be making a meal, to be playing with their toys, to be packing lunches in between bouts of painting and snacking and balloon parties.

I had to face pain to feel alive again. I'm still facing it. I'm still dealing with it. I'm still reclaiming my life from it. But gosh, does it feel good to be back. Ignoring pain, I learned, meant that I was ignoring my *self* - literally my entire sense of who I am. Fuck that. I'd rather be alive. I'd rather be me instead of escaping from myself. 

Cats in the Cradle

We got a package in the mail from my grandmother yesterday, and inside was a card and a vinyl pouch. The vinyl pouch itself contained a single place setting of child-sized silverware, and the card described how the setting had been used by first my Dad and then his younger sister. Grandma wanted to send it along as a family heirloom for our daughter to use, and one day we'll pass it along to the next generation. I love the gesture and the tradition. More than anything, it makes me feel close to my grandfather - I guess it's a little weird that this year he'll have been gone for more than half my life, but that doesn't really change the impact he had on me or the fact that I still think of him.

It also (on a purely literal level, silver spoons and all) reminded me of the old Harry Chapin song, which basically talks about how quickly life really does go by and how it's easy to overlook or take for granted the small, simple moments which make life so much sweeter and meaningful. Elizabeth is only a month old and I'm already wondering if I've taken enough photos and savored the snuggles enough to remember this part of her life. She changes a little bit every day. It's fascinating and it makes me wonder what life would be like if we all kept developing at the same pace through our entire childhood and adulthood (maybe we're meant to, and most of us just don't, for whatever reason?)

And finally, because memory is associative, thinking of Harry Chapin made me think of the time we studied ballads in high school English class. Cats in the Cradle was the example ballad, and then we had to all choose one and do a presentation on it. I was sooooo proud of myself for realizing that Whiskey In the Jar fit all the criteria, and I thought I was such a rebel for presenting a Metallica song in a Catholic school. Like I said, it's the little things that make life fun... :-P

Old Eddie

(Note: I wrote this post back in July of 2010 but it was sitting in the "drafts" pile. I guess I had more to say, but the thought seems more or less complete at this reading...)

Right now I'm reading "A Game of Thrones." For the most part, it's very good - at least, the characters and settings are written quite vividly and the storyline is pretty interesting.

One thing that bugs me, though - and it's actually probably a testament to the skill of the author that he's managed to provoke a reaction in me - is the part of the storyline involving a young prince (age 15) riding off to war with his mother acting as his backbone. She manipulates him into making what she sees as wise choices for battle, and she bargains in his stead with a landowner that controls access to land that he (they) believe they need to take. She reflects that to her, he never seemed more manly than he did the very second he swallowed hard and accepted the terms that she negotiated for him.

(As a side note, she almost single-handedly started the war, by being ultra reactive and jumping to some unsubstantiated conclusions, and taking some very rash action.)

In some ways the interactions between the adolescent prince and his mother remind me of the dynamic between Paul Atreides and Jessica in "Dune."

I'm trying to think of well-known non sci-fi books that have the same degree of mother-son influence, and I'm drawing a blank. (Anyone want to fill in? I'm sure there are some. I think I've probably just been reading too much sci-fi recently.)

This whole train of thought combined with what I know of most people's tendencies to project quite a bit when they write fiction leads me to wonder...are male science fiction writers more likely to be mama's boys?

The One That Pissed You Off

I've been thinking a lot in recent days about the debate that's broken out about whether or not it is appropriate for the government to legislate that all institutions - employers, universities, hospitals - need to provide contraceptives to their health care consumers. The Catholic church is well known for its stance against birth control and so the proposed contraception mandate was interpreted on one side as an attack on religious rights and freedoms, and on the other side as a needed step towards ensuring women's health.

I know that many folks strongly feel that this is a "no-brainer" and that a government mandate is, if anything, long overdue. However, after pondering it for awhile, I've decided that I am opposed to it. I almost hesitate to say so publicly after seeing the abusive and hateful behavior of some well-known conservatives. I don't want to be associated with such bigotry. So, before I go any further I will reference the public letter released recently by the President of Georgetown University: http://www.georgetown.edu/message-civility-public-discourse.html

It's worth emphasizing: In presenting and defending my point of view, I have no intention or desire to attack, demean, or demonize anyone - male or female - who feels differently. I simply intend to present my reasons for believing as I do. If you believe differently, please believe me when I say that I completely respect you and your opinions.

Ok - why do I feel strongly that Catholic institutions should not be compelled to provide birth control to their constituents? I have several reasons, all of which I believe can be boiled down to the statement that I do not think that engaging in birth control, especially artificial birth control, should be automatically viewed as a "preventive health measure" for women.

I have also heard the argument that birth control not covered by insurance is quite costly. My personal perception is that this is not typically the case, especially in areas where Planned Parenthood or other similar clinics are available.

Regardless of the cost of birth control, I have trouble supporting the justification for health care providers having to supply it when there is a much simpler and cheaper alternative to artificial birth control, namely, not having sex. I know - it sounds kind of cold and flippant to suggest that, and I'm not trying to take away from any woman's right to experience to full breadth of her potential as a human. At the same time, this doesn't change the fact that a simple and reliable alternative to contraception exists. I feel that an important part of life is accepting that one's choices bring consequences, which could include unintended pregnancy.

Many folks don't subscribe to the view that not having sex is a viable option, and that's why contraception is so readily available. I think that's probably a good thing. However, I also know that the Catholic church believes that sex should leave open the possibility for procreation. I do not believe that a private institution should be compelled to act against its core values - especially in light of what I believe is the widespread and affordable accessibility of contraception elsewhere.

From my perspective, the contraception issue goes a little deeper than a simple desire for respect of an institution's traditions. It goes deeper in that I think the Catholic Church's views and practices may actually protect women in the long run, and I don't believe they should have to facilitate a practice that could, at least from their perspective, hurt women. Ok, that sounds like crazy talk. What am I getting at?

I'm getting at the fact that my own life experiences and my observations of those close to me have reinforced my belief that casual sex is not always (I may go so far as to say even is not typically) a good thing for women. I don't say that because I envision an angry God lurking about balancing on the balls of his feet to gleefully smite the next girl that partakes in careless sex out of wedlock - I say it because I've seen how easy it is for a girl to get hurt with sex. (If anything, I envision a loving God who just wants to hug a girl who ends up in a situation that she regrets.) How many times have you comforted a female friend who just had her heart broken by some daft male who just wasn't on the same wavelength as she was with regards to commitment, seriousness, long term interest? How many times have these - miscommunications - arisen out of the fact that sexual intercourse can often affect a female's perception of a relationship (or the potential thereof) drastically differently than it does a male's?

I'm not slinging mud at guys OR girls over this. But, it has also been my perception and experience that sexual intercourse in the context of a committed, long-term, supportive relationship has much more beneficial effects on the female than sexual intercourse in other situations. (I can't speak to the relative pros or cons for guys - I'm not a dude.) I feel that the ready availability of birth control can sometimes enable females to participate in sexual situations that end up harming them, and so it's hard for me to support a mandate that can facilitate this. To me the ultimate "preventive health measure" would be the development of societal norms that promote and facilitate mutual respect between men and women.

I know that the knee-jerk reaction may be to say that casual sex will always happen regardless, and that may be true - but I still believe that any private institution that believes otherwise and wishes to act in ways that it believes may help contribute to a culture where sex is carefully and respectfully undertaken has the right to do. This is especially true to me when the practices in question are a passive refusal to facilitate certain behavior, and do not involve active attacks against those who still choose to engage therein.

Ok, so what about folks who are in long-term, committed relationships? What about them? Don't they deserve to have birth control provided to them, especially if having contraception means that a woman can work a full-time job for as long as she likes to help support the household? When I was in high school they taught us about "Natural Family Planning" which refers to the practice of monitoring a woman's monthly cycle to map out which days she is fertile and avoiding having sex on those days. The idea is that two people in a committed relationship can work together to keep track of which days are "safe" for sex and avoid intercourse on the few days that are not (at the same time undertaking in "other fun activities" if they aren't completely exhausted from long days at work, caring for other children, etc. :-)).

Again, this practice - which statistically is as effective as artificial birth control - is designed not only to increase intimacy between the couple, but also to continually remind the couple that the physical purpose of sex is for procreation and to enable them to remain open to the possibility thereof. I support the idea of being open to and respecting all life, and I would embrace any initiative - even one that raised my taxes - that was designed to provide childcare, meals, non-judgmental support, or whatever else necessary to assist a woman who found herself unexpectedly expecting (regardless of whether she were married.)

The perspective I presented here resonates with me, and I understand that it does not resonate with all folks. I get it, and I'm not on a crusade to take away birth control from everyone who wants it - especially when some of those folks are dear friends whom I adore and would never seek to demean or criticize. I'm simply saying that because the Catholic church's reasons for not wanting to provide birth control make sense to me, especially from a completely secular perspective, I fully support their right to act in accordance with their principles.

Arrrgh

http://www.wjla.com/articles/2012/02/local-bar-gets-tv-makeover--72717.html

My stint at Piratz Tavern as a fortune teller lasted less than six months. (Work, school, and a relocation prevented me from settling down into real routine at the bar - don't get me wrong; lots of good things were going on in my life to cause all those changes so I can't complain...)

My only point is that I barely knew Tracey at all, but it didn't take much knowing to discern how caring she is. It turns my stomach a bit to see her bar described as "infantile" and to hear of her being the butt of some dingbat's "tough love" approach to economics.

I know it sounds cliche, but Tavern seriously was a place where I felt like I could just be myself...a version of myself wearing a black dress, scarves, and gypsy jingles, but myself. Of course it was escapist, and of course there's something a little goofy about that, but it was FUN. Just fun. I'm not the most outgoing person in the world, and so I loved having the chance to be a character - to laugh and sing and tell fortunes. (Oh, and drink...)

My first time telling fortunes there, all of my clients were Tavern regulars. Some of them were merely curious, and some of them were sniffing me out. It didn't feel like they were doing it out of malice; I felt like they were basically telling me, "Look, Tracy is a good person. She's seriously a really good awesome person. She's been good to me and if you're going to try to be a part of her life I'm going to make sure you aren't going to screw her over. Cool?" And because I agreed that she is a good person, it was cool.

Thankfully, I passed the tests, and at the end of that evening (after I had read a handful of fortunes, largely successfully, and was more than a little intoxicated), Tracy came over and toasted me: "Welcome to the family!"

I went home buzzing.

Every time I went to Tavern after that, I left at the end of the night with the same feeling. The place had the energy of folks who were throwing down to have a good time, who were indulging their imagination and sense of humor to blow off steam from whatever the rest of their life had pelted them with. It was good.

I'm sorry to see it changing, but I'm even sorrier to see Tracey being dragged through this. My deepest hope is that everyone she has stood by will reciprocate her loyalty with support for the new establishment. I honestly believe that the best way to honor what Piratz was is to fill the new place with the same energy of enjoyment that was experienced before.

I know that I'll be going in that spirit to show my support in the very near future.

Virtue

For the past few years - ever since right after I graduated college, actually - I've been working on a novel. It was slow going, but I wrote chapters here and there as opportunities arose (or as I got more and more desperate to have a creative outlet.)

This past summer, I finished it. And by "finished" I really just mean that my narrative arrived at a place that seemed like a natural conclusion, at least enough for one book. I went back and started revising the entire thing, and convinced myself that this month, November - and to be specific, this week - was going to be THE week to start soliciting for an agent or publisher.

I've been working on query letters and a synopsis. I've been double checking grammar and working out minor inconsistencies (hey, when a project spans years, there are bound to be a couple.) I started making statements like, "If I find out that this really takes off, maybe eventually I can be a writer full time."

Then today I admitted to myself that the book isn't my best work. Not by a long shot. I'm not saying that to be mean to myself, I'm saying it because it's actually true and over the past few weeks I've realized how much writing matters to me and how much I'd love to make a career out of word craft.

It matters so much that I don't want to even try to approach agents until I've gone back and majorly reworked a bunch of the draft. I don't want to risk losing future opportunities, or end up with the wrong publisher, or make the wrong kind of name for myself, as a result of deciding to rush ahead with trying to get published before it's truly ready the way I want it to be.

I know myself. I know my work. I've read a lot of books in my life, and I have a very good sense of what constitutes good writing. I know my capabilities. I'm frustrated because by spreading out the novel writing over a few years, I really spread out the thought and energy that went into it, and so the work as a whole is very inconsistent.

I deeply wish I could say that it's great as it is, because I've already spent years on it, and because I'm so excited about the story and ideas contained therein. Even worse, I know I'm typically a great writer but there are honestly a whole bunch of really uninspired, monotonous, unnecessary sections in the draft that I wrote when I was too tired, too distracted, too unmotivated, and honestly probably too overwhelmed by what I was trying to do.

Before this starts sounding too depressing, let me be clear: coming to this realization was the best thing that could have happened. I'm finally being honest with myself about what I want (to be a writer), and I'm finally being realistic about what it's going to take to get there. This means I'm actually closer to achieving my goal that I would have been otherwise.

Even better, I know I can do it, and best of all, I finally have the motivation that it's going to take. I'm in the home stretch - every day I get a better sense of agents and what they want, and every day I find myself thinking more coherently and expressively about the novel and the impact it's going to have. I'm going to be able to go back and change my draft into the version of the novel that it's begging to be, that I know is still inside me clamoring to get out.

It stinks that it's not going to tumble out to the wide world as readily or soon as I'd hoped, BUT I'm incredibly excited about how awesome this is going to be once I do finish it up the way it deserves to be finished. Normally I'm so impatient with anything I start or get excited about that I end up shooting myself in the foot in the long run.

Not this time. By God, not this time.