Choosing Shoes

A couple of nights ago, my person and I were discussing my blog. I was mentioning that one of my friends had reported she reads my blogs when she can, but sometimes finds certain posts to be more philosophical than she's up for. I remarked, "It's not like I'm writing about the meaning of life or something. My thoughts are pretty commonplace."

He smiled a little smile, shook his head, and said, "Wellllllllll, you come close to some pretty significant deepness sometimes. Even when your posts are about everyday things like, I don't know, choosing shoes, by laying out your thoughts, arguments, process, analysis, things verge on philosophy sometimes."

Well, I don't write about the meaning of life - why would I? It's already been covered adequately by Douglas Adams. I do write about the search for meaning, sometimes very much in the footsteps of writers I love such as Douglas Copeland and Barbara Kingsolver. Maybe even more importantly, I write about the things that make me the best version of myself, what's meaningful to me, and ways to hold myself to that. (It's not that I think my life is more important than the bigger meaning of life in general, just that the only system I can really contribute to or influence on a regular basis is ME so understanding myself well is, in my opinion, one of the better things I can do for the greater good).

But I can write about decision making, and choosing shoes. And since my person teased with the "choosing shoes" example, I laughingly pledged to write an entry about shoes.

Today, I was barefoot for most of the day. That's because it's 101 degrees out and my basement is far lovlier than that so I chose to apply for jobs, cook, do laundry, clean my house, and catch up with a good friend before getting showered and dressed and leaving the house. But when I did put shoes on, surprisingly, I did actually have to think about it - all joking aside. I put on a denim skirt, bright green tank top, and black t-shirt to go out for groceries in. I have great sandals that have green in them but, they are brown - not great with a black shirt. I also have a beaded necklace that is dear to my heart because my girl K-bomb made it for my 5th 29th birthday (I turned 29 for the 5th time last year on my birthday), and it has green and BLACK beads. I have a pair of gorgeous black flowered Alegria shoes that I could get away with. Magically, they are not only cute and distinctive, but orthotically correct without looking like old lady shoes. This is important for someone like me who has hyper-extending joints, bad knees, and feet that like to cramp but who also loves to look stylish. Ultimately, though, if I wore those shoes, it felt like it would be over the top to wear the necklace too. So, I went with the plain black flip flops and rationalized it by deciding: plain, black, soft, open air on my feet, and easy to slip off when I come home, which is good since I just cleaned the floors.

So, there you are, sweetie, some writing about choosing my shoes.

But, there's another way to look at this, which is to look at decision making. We all make decisions all day, all the time, every day. what to bring for lunch, what to watch, how to say something difficult to a loved one, Tylenol or Advil?

I'm unemployed, so I don't make workplace decisions like I used to, but my work days used to be filled with selecting priorities, choosing which things to pass onto other departments and which to solve myself, thinking about and implementing action plans, communicating and setting goals with others, and decision after decision of who, what, when, where, and how. But, even not working, I'm still engaged in decision making every day. Here's a quick example of things I've decided, just today:

• Get up now or sleep a little longer? (I slept because I've had some intermittent insomnia lately and need to catch up where I can)
• Yogurt, banana, hard boiled egg for breakfast or protein smoothie with bananas? (I had a smoothie and a cereal bar because it was fast and used up bananas that were a little over-ripe)
• Shower right after breakfast? (I decided to clean my house first and then shower during the hot part of the day as a way of cooling off)
• What salads should I make? (Kale salad and corn salad)
• Take stuff out to the trash or compost? (Compost because it's experimental at my place right now, and I want to encourage others to do it even if it's a little extra effort for me.)
• Mean note or conciliatory note to the person encroaching on my space. (Neither. Something in between, asserting that I think it's reasonable for me to ask him not to use my space, but also mentioning that I'm checking with the HOA on how they treat that space. I don't want to be harsh unless I know I'm right, and even then, I'd prefer to be on good terms with my neighbors if that can be achieved without being a doormat.)
• How specific should I be about my current relationship while talking with an old friend who once wished he could date me? (Neither vague nor specific since it didn't come up in conversation too much and I didn't feel the need to force it as he told me where he was at with dating, his ex and his ex-wife.)
• Should I buy a cookie while I'm out. (No! I don't need it, and this heat makes me less than hungry)
• Should I stop at the liquor store (No! I recently expressed a plan to drink less beer in order to reduce carbs, don't need the calories, wanted to get home, and I'm broke)
• Bulk almonds or packaged (Easy, same price per pound. Take the packaged ones as a matter of efficiency.)
• Should I get gas today or tomorrow? (Today because I could go by the station where I can use reward points and get gas for less than $3.50 a gallon without going out of my way.)
• What should I listen to? (The Nylons, because I'm in the mood for some music that is upbeat, and has interesting harmonies)
• What song should I post today? (For the Longest Time, The Nylons. Because I love Billy Joel, harmony, and acapella)
• Apply for more jobs this week? (No, I've done 10 apps, and since I have to contact a minimum number of employers/job postings every week, it's actually better for me to save some for next week. Especially since I won't do my best work on customizing resumes and letters right now.)
• In playing Dice with Buddies against my brother, I rolled three 2's, a 1 and a 4. I kept the 2's and rolled again, and got a fourth 2, and rolled my third turn, and did not get a fifth 2. So, play as 4 of a kind (11 points with my 2x4 plus a 3) or in the 2's category (total of all 2's = 8)? (I played in the 2's category since the highest I could have gotten in the 2's was a 10 but the highest I could get in  4 of a kind with 4 2's is 14. The highest possible in that category is 6x5 = 30, though you'd be a fool not to play THAT in 6's or 5 of a kind for 50 points. I reasoned, this way, playing in 2's I'm only 2 points below the best I COULD have done.)

What makes a decision good or bad? Is it getting compliments on the shoes I wore? Getting the best price on almonds? Whether or not I end up beating my brother in Dice with Buddies? Is it the outcome of that decision?

Maybe not, especially not if you think about how even small choices can affect other things. I also think . . . it's hard to consider the weight of any decision in isolation. It may have been a mistake to give up the things I gave up on the East Coast to come here for a fiance who didn't put as much effort into the relationship as I did, but it didn't end up being wrong for me to be here. My job with my former employer was the right thing for me as I was leaving grad school, but ended up not being the right thing for me by somewhere around late 2010. My bestest friend everest regrets not taking me to my prom when I asked, but I ended up with the most amazing, sweet, entertaining, funny, charming, solicitous friend-of-a-prom-date EVER. I may lose my Dice with Buddies game, but winning or losing isn't why I play - I play because it keeps me in communication with my favorite family member.

Outcomes are hard to measure when they keep unfolding in new ways. If you had asked me during Labor Day of 2008 if I was ok being here, the answer would've been, "get me the frak outta here ASAP." But, being here has left me stronger, healthier, more reconciled with myself, knowing my limits and how NOT to push past them, and with a much deeper connection with my loved ones, despite being farther away from them. A year from now, though, I'll have even more information and may look at this completely differently, for better or worse.

For my part, what allows me to judge a decision I make as being "good" or "bad" is more about the process I use to arrive at it. Have I considered the important facts? Have I done the math correctly? Have I not only collected the right data and analyzed it, but made sure to collect enough of it? Have I spent the time needed to feel like, whatever happens as a result of this, I won't wonder if I should have asked different questions, or looked for supporting evidence differently? Have I thought about how the necklace and the shoes work together?

What this looks like for me is spending a lot of time writing, journaling, researching, talking, asking questions, reading, and then trying to see the bigger picture (in fine detail . . . I don't want to lose the trees for the forest, nor the forest for the trees) as I stare at a ceiling or chop vegetables into very small pieces. And, as a result, there are really only half a dozen or so things I genuinely regret in my life. (I don't say that to brag, but only to say that I think if you stop looking at ONLY outcomes, it becomes much harder to regret because what's left to notice is process and ongoing repercussions, that are always unfolding, positive and negative, since nothing is a closed system. ) One of them involves some rope, a closet, and my little brother. The other does involve my career. A third involves a dear friend from college and a vacation house in upstate NY. A fourth, a friendship I didn't keep . . and a couple of others are too complicated (not too private, just too twisty and detailed) to write here.

When I look at those moments in my life . . . there were good and less than good outcomes of each of those decisions in all cases. Maybe, the good and the bad are intertwined, or maybe how things work out or don't work out have more to do with how we react and what outlook we take as things unfurl. It's so hard to say at this point in my life, sitting where I'm sitting, wondering what will happen next and trying SO HARD to be ok with whatever that is. Knowing that I won't know what that looks like until my nose bangs right onto a sliding glass door looking out on that scene.

I say this as a reminder to myself, not a guideline for anyone else. Because I'm in the midst of making some big decisions about my life. Where to live, who to live with, how to make that work, what jobs to look for, how to aim towards them . . . going back to school or not? Whole new career or slight shift in tasks, roles and title but similar function? If the universe is anywhere near as hilarious as it has been in the past, I'll walk part way down the road towards settling these things, and then, simultaneously, after stumbling through a desert, a dearth of options, I'll find myself showered with choices, fruit-basket like, wondering if I should eat bananas or apricots or melon or grapefruits, or or or. I am certain that if I decide to go back to school, that will be the moment I get a job. I am certain that by deciding to re-sign my lease, I'll now find myself considering job options or school options more than an hour south of here.

And when that happens, I'll stamp my flip-flopped feet and gnash my terrible teeth but I'll also laugh and laugh and laugh. None of these decisions are irrevocable, and I have more than a small number of friends who are making bigger decisions, decisions with longer-lasting consequences. Decisions about who should parent their children, or when life begins, or how to be at peace with choosing jail for a lesser sentence over fighting the good fight and losing in the court of public opinion anyways, or bankruptcy, or infertility.

My problems and choices are mine, so of course, they are magnified in my brain. This isn't a bad thing. It means I take ownership of them, and do my best to make sure the things I'm doing add up and don't hurt others if I can avoid it. But, I need to remember that in the larger scheme of things, school vs. job hunting, staying here vs. moving is closer to a "what shoes should I wear" decision than an earth-moving one.

In this vein, the very best I can do is to make decisions in a way that I can look back on and feel good about, even if they don't work out the way I planned. Decisions I can take responsibility for proudly, choices that reflect my convictions and beliefs, and things that are as consistent with the information I have and goals I'm aiming for as possible. I'm learning that my plans aren't always THE PLAN and that the way to feel good about my choices isn't to measure my success in traditional metrics, but to look back and say, "was my process sound? Was the data set robust? Was the analysis one I would arrive at again?" Because we never really know if the choices we make will be what we hoped they were - marriage, shoes, haircuts, dinner menus, jobs, colleges, cookies. None of it.

Wear the shoes that feel comfortable today, and worry about tomorrow tomorrow. Make the kind of decisions that you can live with even if they don't work out as planned because not much does. I stubbed my toe in those black sandals, but, I never thought, "I shouldn't have worn those . . . "

Yes, all, this is me, 6 months into unemployment learning that we can't nail everything down in the order and arrangement we would most like, and if we could, it might not be for the best since we can't ever see the whole scene from where we're standing . . . even if we're wearing heels.

Expectation

Suffering is the result of attachment.

This is something my therapist reminds me of a lot, and he freely attributes it to the writings of Buddhism. He's an equal opportunity user of religious tenants in our session and has mentioned, among other things: Buddhism, Christianity, and Judaism. (It's kind of nice to sit on a couch that welcomes science and logic, feelings and things that are less than rational, and world religion in equal measure.)

What he's really saying though is, when you get attached to something, you place expectation on it. You make plans based on the idea of counting on something that will hold those plans up. And since each thing you build on top of this foundation is contingent upon the thing before it, and since the foundation may or may not live up to the expectation, if any of this goes against the grain of the wood you're laying on this foundation or if the foundation itself wobbles . . .  the expectations come crashing down. Unmet. And then what you have on your hands is a mess to clean up, and something akin to a bruise on your ego with a healthy dose of disappointment. Frustration, kicking yourself, sadness for what could have been but wasn't. Suffering.

Expectation leads to suffering.

And I am the queen of expectation. Mostly, I hold myself to painfully high standards, which is another way of saying I create expectation and the accompanying suffering for myself. I owe a lot of what I've accomplished to setting the bar high, and then going above and beyond to get there, but along the way I also have signed up for more than my fair share of being hard on myself. In fact, just today I was telling a story that I often tell when I'm remembering how hard work-life balance was for me in my old job (or alternatively if I'm looking to make fun of myself) about a time when I was trying to support an entire branch's worth of centers by my lonesome and working well over 80 hours a week. It meant eating a lot of Subway and being on the road from 7 am until often well past 8 or 9pm. It meant that this chic, the one who hates speaking out loud (to anyone if I can help it) before 8 or 9am, and has low blood sugar (especially in the mornings) was trying to work out at 5am and then on the road for 10-14 hours a day. I was saying how I came home on a Wednesday at 10pm and realized my choices were to stay up until past 1am doing laundry or get up at 4am to do laundry.  Orrrrrr secret door number three: iron and re-wear my pants and drive 4 blocks to Walgreens and buy new underwear. I took secret door number three but as I was driving the 4 blocks there and back I was mentally consumed by the feeling I was (and I quote) failing life.

That's right: not working too much, or sacrificing for my team and my job, or going above and beyond for the clients and centers I supported. But failing basic life 101. It's funny, but it isn't. 20/20 hindsight took so long to sink in that it was literally more than a year before I looked back on that night (which I have vivid memories of) and realized that if there was any failure it was in the planning that left me as the only consultant in a territory covering three states, or on the part of the expectations set by my employer.

This is related to, but not the same as my musings on failure. Abstractly, I understand the uses of failure. The importance of failure. Even the necessity of failure. But I see it in terms of how successful people (Ali, Steve Jobs, JK Rowling, and Einstein come to mind) carved a path, picked themselves up, and learned what not to do. Even my own failures are best viewed from a safe distance. The time I didn't get cast in a show, but discovered my passion for stage managing as a result, the time I failed a class at a college that didn't have grades (oh, yeah. It takes someone really spesh like me to fail even in the absence of grades), the time I moved across the country for my fiance only to find myself alone knowing no one at the worst, most emotionally raw moment I've ever experienced. Sitting where I sit now, 20 years, 14 years, 4 years after those hard, weak, disappointing moments and outcomes I see how those hardships, those mistakes, those speed bumps opened my eyes, made me grow, bent me in a new or even better direction. From this safe perspective, I can be grateful for my expectations not being met, for those failures, and I can even see how they lead to successes.

From here. But never ever from the moment. Really. Never.

A lot of people SAY they're their own worst critic. But for me in the moment of defeat, I become a poor, abused child. I don't just beat myself up, I beat myself up, followed by kicking myself while I'm down (from the beating), then, while I'm lower than low (from the beating followed by kicking) I bring on the flogging and torture, and then I ask my wounded, limping, inner self to write "I am a terrible, miserable failure. I am not worthy" on the proverbial blackboard 100 times. Then I ask that poor child to write an essay about what she's learned from all of this  ( . . . hence this blog).

It's ironic, because I'm told I'm a good person to have on hand when things aren't working out as planned. I'm compassionate and I often even say things that aren't just supportive, but are smart and understanding. I get it, I let people feel their feelings, but then I also help them see the road ahead. this is what I'm told. So . . . why can't I tell myself these things?

Well, hey, this is what therapy is for, and so we've come full circle to where I started - my therapist says attachment leads to suffering. There's a multifaceted idea he and I are working on . . . ways to notice how much I judge myself, ways to work on it without setting the expectation of banishing it too high . . . leading to more judgement and suffering. Ways to pick myself up when I do find myself rolling on the ground taking kicks.

But, I've had a lot of speed bumps this year. If I'm honest, my expectation was that I would have a job long before now. That my feet would be back on the road of figuring out how I want things to align in my life, and what I'm going to be putting my passion and energy and drive and killer work-ethic towards. I truly never expected to be just a few days away from turning 35 still wondering what opportunities I might have, and how the pieces would fit together.

I've realized lately that standards are one thing, and judgement, expectation, and self-flogging are completely another. I was in the process of discussing a job that, frankly, had more liabilities than assets. It very likely would have held me in place, for not enough money or challenge, while making it nigh to impossible to job hunt for anything else. We mutually reached the conclusion that when she moves her business forward, she will be ready for my higher skill set, but until then, she needs to hire to fill the need she has now. It was perfectly reasonable, and more than that, self-preservational (even, gasp, hopeful and optimistic of me) for me to reach the conclusions that this job didn't meet my standards and might create as many issues as it solved if there wasn't a clear path for me to move onto greater things (and there wasn't). The problem that I avoided was getting attached to this interview as the solution to my rapidly scary problem.

I've learned this lesson the hard way a few times over this year. I've worked so hard to apply only for jobs I really want, so this means that when I get an interview, or worse, a second interview, I feel, well, attached. And what follows is expectation. And over and over, that has lead to disappointment and suffering.

My therapist is of the opinion that when I figure out how to let go, when I stop white-knuckling, when I can be truly and authentically OK without slotting everything into a plan, a design, a structure (all disguises for expectation, by the way) that is when I will find and land the right opportunity.

I have some significant reservations about attaching my job search results to something mystical. Of the jobs I've been most excited about and not gotten, one of them was really hiring from within. Another changed the details of the job as well as the salary after I had already interviewed several times. A third turned out not to have the budget for another full time employee. A fourth re-wrote the position significantly around another candidate, and that wasn't the job I had applied for so I was just not in the running anymore. I'm not sure that not getting any of those jobs had to do with the cloud of judgement and expectation I let mushroom around me.

But I can't deny the fact that I have this desire for all of the struggle and emotional work and mis-steps to lead to something amazing. Some job that is better, less commute, better for my life outside of work, contributing to the greater good, thrilling, worthy of my passion and skills. You know, all around SHINY. And If I can't deny that desire, I also can't ignore that that is expectation setting me up for pain again.

That is the truth, though. I want things. I want to know if I am going to be able to swing it to go to my dear friend's long overdue wedding celebration in August.  I want to have the ability to feel secure enough on my own path that I have some sense of how I would walk that way with my person . . . if it turned out we both wanted that. I want to fly to New Jersey and meet the beautiful happy baby some of my best friends' had. I want to work out with my trainer again. I want to not have to tell people, "I'm not sure I can do that. We'll see what I can afford." I want to go hiking without worrying what would happen if my knees blew out again and I had no insurance. I want to not have my answer to almost everything be, "I have NOOOOOOOOOO idea what my life will look like in three months so . . ."

I want things. I want them two months ago. and I think what I really want is a smidge of stability and some predictability. I think I want some safety and I want some relief from doubt. It's like my favorite Toad the Wet Sprocket song,"I spend too much time seeking shelter. World without end couldn't hold her."

I don't know if getting better at free-falling will help me get a job, but as long as I'm out here, falling fast without a chute, it probably pays to get better at it anyways. Lord knows I'm not working, soooooo, if not now, when?! (A little unemployment humor goes a long way.)

Failure is not an option

As it turns out, my friends are a very accomplished bunch. Lots of Master's degrees, PH.Ds, fancy post docs, and important jobs that actually make people's lives better. As a result of aiming high, it means that there is a lot of success, but also a lot of experience with falling off the proverbial horse and fighting back.

As my Sensei used to say, increasing success means increasing failures. In theory, the idea is that by increasing the number of attempts you make, you may have more failures, but you will also make enough attempts (and learn from the failures) such that you achieve success faster. In reality, it means having the resolve, the resiliency, and the relentlessness to keep getting up each and every time you fall. And it means having a deep confidence and unshakable faith that getting up each time matters and will cumulatively get you that much closer to your objective.

I've been thinking this a lot as I've seen the stars align or not for me, and for my friends over the last few weeks. One of my beloved friend's succes and a new option might mean a drastic change for another friend in how he looks at his future employment options. Meanwhile, in another part of the forest, another dear friend has worked his everything off to jump through hoops and get all the appropriate initials after his name, to find an environment that not only matches his qualifications and interests, but that allowed him to positively impact others only to give them 2 years and not be invited to keep infecting others with his passion next fall. I have as many friends in academia who have jobs as those who don't, at this point, and let's be clear - these are not just very well trained individuals in their fields, but also some of the smartest people I know in real life.

Of course, I thought I was leaving that game when I Mastered out of my Ph.D. program. And now I lie on my couch and marvel at how people with degrees from MIT and people who have Ph.Ds from top 10 programs in their field are asked to take more time to do post-docs (read: supervised research paid at a very low rate in some OTHER ostensibly "more established" Ph.D's lab) and postpone their career . . . you know, after passing every exam known to man, defending papers and proposals orally, living on pittances for 5-7 years, and achieving graduation from the 23rd grade. Yes, absolutely, more training and waiting to dive in is what makes sense, no? And how can these people not being able to find good employment that aligns with their passions be in common with me?

When I left grad school, it followed what I can only describe as prolonged trauma that made it impossible for me to continue the research I had entered my studies aimed at. That trauma was what caused me to pack the personal items I had in that lab and on my desk and become a nomadic grad in one of the rotating "TA" offices for the year. I spent a semester looking for a new lab and advisor, but politics and circumstance prevented that avenue of soldiering forward as well. So . . . I made plans to exit.

Sounds simple, and logical, right? It was anything but. It was everything but. There were a lot of exit interviews and job hunting, but mostly there were two tapes I had to keep playing in my head and two I had to try and drown out. The two loops I had to try and eliminate from my internal sound-system were, "You're a quitter," and "You will regret not sticking it out." The two tapes I tried to queue up over the top of these were, "You're stopping something that is harmful. You are preventing what amounts to abuse. It's not the same as quitting. Not the same AT ALL." And, equally important," you WILL get a job and figure out what happens next."

I got a job out of sheer will and luck and persistence and putting the time into job hunting over and over and over. But I had to play these tapes in my head diligently every day in order to keep moving forward as options I pursued winked out one by one, moving to different labs, moving to different programs at different universities, jobs I wanted and didn't get. Otherwise, it would have been very easy to feel defeated, which would have been the worst response and would have prevented me from seeing the new opportunities popping up. So, I kept moving forward, choosing to feign faith in the results I had no idea if I would garner.

Failure wasn't an option, and so I made it work that way. I had a six month deadline to get a full time job or else commit myself to summer jobs that it would then be very hard to back out of. And I got a full time job about 2 weeks before I had to set all of that in motion. I "made it so", in Picardian fashion. It wouldn't have been terrible to run 4 weeks of Karate camp and have taught for 6 weeks but it would have meant remaining engaged with the university I needed badly to leave, at least for half of that work, and perhaps worse, I would have had 10 weeks where it would have been very hard to extract myself for interviews or to start better jobs with futures beyond Labor Day. I posted a note in my kitchen saying "Failure is not an option," and adhered to this. This was a throw back to the one or two all nighters I would pull every year in college trying to complete final calculus assignments, take home logic finals, and papers after having worked until midnight or so. (The busiest times for Hampshire's version of RAs to pull off programs and events, do peer level counseling and meetings, and actually work with students during house office hours were . . . go figure, the end of the semester. And of course, this was also when we were hiring staff for the next semester so, what was a 15-20 hour a week job always became a 30-40 hour a week job during the last 3 weeks of the term. at least some all-nighters became expected for me as a matter of reality, not bad planning.) I used to hang this sign off of the nearest book shelf, facing me, as I feverishly revised papers. And it worked.

So, why hasn't it worked for my friends? They too need jobs and not to need to take steps backwards. Bills to pay, households, marriages, and responsibilities to tend to. They need to not do stupid things for money, and things that take them away from their chosen professions . . . at which, I would add, they are not only very well trained, but exceedingly skilled and good at. And, why hasn't it yet worked for me in this job search? In this case, I do not have stupid summer jobs lined up. Failure really, really, truly, really-really is not an option. I can tutor for $13 an hour this summer, and find some other part time job to try and fill that gap. But, in actuality, that's going to put me in a hole pretty fast. So, for reals now, a job before my birthday is what's needed.

I shall note it on my birthday list.

I'm of some different thoughts about why the failure isn't an option strategy isn't getting results now, for me, or for my friends. On the one hand, finding the right job, the job that makes you want to get up in the morning, the job that pays you well enough and allows you to have the work-life balance that works for you and yours, the job that excites you enough that you're willing to pitch in on the un-thrilling days . . . well, that's a bigger problem to solve than finishing a paper. That's a bigger problem than trying to finish four papers .  . and that's saying something since my papers at Hampshire were often 30+ pages! You can't just will it. I mean, I did, but (and here's the other thing) - that was six years ago. So, yes, that's right, I am going to reference how bad this job market is (for what I believe is the first time on this blog). Six years ago was a different story, for shiz.

I also think that it's possible that we three have not had exactly the failures we need yet. That, in reality, of course, failure is an option and may be what paves the way for success. That failure has uses, even when it feels . . . untimely or inconvenient or even beyond uncomfortable. As in, "Ok, it seemed like a good job on paper, but now that I've interviewed I see what they really meant when they said ____ in the posting and that should've been a red flag," or "Hmmm, next time I should follow up on that app sooner so I can stay on their radar."

Or, it's just possible that this will be like what one of these very friends mentioned above told me once, on a bitterly cold night in January as we waited for a bus. He said, "At the moment I give up, it will arrive. But I can't tell myself to give up and fake it out. If I'm only saying I give up, then it won't show. But at the moment I truly am done believing then the universe will provide."

This is hard to explain to people who don't know him but this was the first moment I knew my friend to be a hopeless optimist. Possibly glass overflowing, sappy, optimism at times. He may, occasionally, show some sand-paper to the world rather than baring his skin. He also is steeped in how to make things better and in his world, this means being very clear about what is NOT optimal. To some this looks like complaining, but to me, I know it comes from deep belief that things CAN be made better and a logical progression that requires him to fist be explicit about what needs to be improved. I didn't know it until he talked about how giving up being related to how good things happen, But he believes in some structure of the universe. Some force for good. Some way of creating balance with the force.

It may seem strange that I've tagged this post about failure with "optimism" but I think what I'm saying is, failure sucks. For me, it hurts and wounds and leaves bruises. It makes me want to give up and pull covers over my head in the moment. But sometimes it makes me step out of things that weren't working for me. I failed to get a Ph.D, but succeeded at standing up for myself, getting a Master's, and finding a job in my field. I have failed, so far, at finding the right new job in 2012 (but I only have to get it right once, eh?), but have succeeded in purging a lot of demons from my head, and reconfiguring how healthy and ambitious can align in my life moving forward. And while I've had some very disheartening interviews and frustrating almost-job-offer situations in this four months of unemployment, I've also honed in on a closer approximation to what kind of jobs could turn into the right ones for me. It only takes one thing to change and turn all of that into total success - and not just success that looks like a paycheck, but success that looks like a wholly renovated life for me where all those failures stack up to me sitting in a completely different place, with a much better view than when I had my last paycheck.

I think that I still think that the universe will provide. And I think I still think it will happen before my bank account hits zero. And I think my friends will find what they need for right now, and, eventually, in the long run. So, even though the glasses have some failures in them, and though they may not be half full, I think there's enough there to keep us going. That is the most I can ask for today . . . but watch out when my birthday approaches because I will certainly feel free to ask for more then.

I spit for thee

I know someone who is always speaking of how bad her luck is. Her luck is terrible with dating, she says, while turning down people who have expressed interest in her and manufacturing reasons that it is bad timing, the wrong person, or not a planned date up to her standards. Terrible luck at work, when others lose their jobs, and she keeps hers. Awful misfortune in life because her car needs normal repairs, that, yes, cost money, or because normal mishaps happen at stores, in her kitchen, when making plans with friends.


Another person in my life has done something both illegal and very, very risky multiple times, and as a result, has been in more than a few life-rattling moments, and been arrested about that number of times. He walks away physically whole each time, having not hurt himself, or anyone else. But talks always of how unlucky it was that he got caught. How a series of events lead the police to get involved, not his actions or mis-steps. Meanwhile, I privately think he has been exceptionally fortunate to be alive without harming anyone else, and know that that luck won't likely last.

So, pardon me if I say luck is sometimes a bad joke to me. It's hard to know, for sure, what I think about it. I'm unlucky that my last Toyota caught fire on the Garden State Parkway, but I'm lucky that it did so feet from the exit, and literally, 4 days before the planned purchase of my next car. I'm lucky that my new Toyota has a an even newer engine, but unlucky that that happened because Jiffy Lube ruined the engine that came with the car (don't get oil changes at Jiffy Lube!!). I'm unlucky in that I probably can't have children, but lucky in that I always had interest in adopting. I have terrible Scrabble karma - I mean really, I always have like 6 i's and a j - but, ummm, who cares. It's a game. (Maybe one I cheated on in a past life, causing someone else to lose their fortune?)

So, luck is a concept I don't always know how to handle. I will tell someone, "Good Luck!" because it's what we say, it's what we do. And it sounds better than, "Go forth and do as you will and see what you get in return." (Which, really, would make me sound like an ass.) But in actuality, It's hard to know what role luck actually plays in things. Often, as in the examples, above, luck seems to have nothing to do with anything. People ascribe bad luck to consequences they may have tacitly chosen but aren't willing to accept, or overlook that there are far more chances than they are willing or able to work with.

The other thing I think about luck is part and parcel with some of the examples from my life, cars, child bearing, Scrabble . . . those things may be part of a wider pattern, one we only get a glimpses of. What looks like bad luck today could end up being part of something far more positive tomorrow, or 4 years from now. Or, maybe, never. It's not so much that I believe in fate, or pre-ordination, because I think we are choosing, carving our path, deciding things all the time, every moment. Just that . . . things can work together for greater purposes, good or bad, I suppose. And we can't always see that in the moment that we are holding the parking ticket and cursing the Gods for the thing that made us late, for the meter-maid who got there RIGHT as our last minute ran out, for the 2 hour limit to begin with (why can't I just PARK there for 4 hours?).

Of course I think about this a lot as an unemployed person. Is it lucky or unlucky that I lost my job? Both probably, in the eyes of me, and also good and bad, for different people supporting me and trying to love me through this. Do I sometimes want to claim bad luck for not having gotten a couple of the jobs I interviewed for an wanted? Or, maybe even more so, for the bad interviews I went on . . . most notably the one that had me invest so much time only to change the details out from under me at the 11th hour (almost literally). Yep. For sure I sometimes begin to think, "What bad luck I have!." But then, when I land a job (yes, WHEN) I don't want someone to take the reverse and say, "You got lucky." All of the hard work I've done preparing myself, writing cover letters, applying, interviewing, networking, and fighting with my self-esteem would feel minimized by counting it as "luck" instead of accomplishment

At this point, I pretty frequently hear the phrase "numbers game" in that it is supposedly the case that getting a job is somewhat dependent on "a numbers game." I'm sure this is true. I have applied to over 100 jobs, and of course, I need to keep growing this statistic until I find the right one. But here's what this doesn't mean to me - that if you spew resumes out into the void at a high enough rate a job will boomerang back unto you. Because being ready, qualified, presenting well, and demonstrating a fit of skills and personal qualities has to matter too . . . doesn't it? It can't all just be chance and accumulation of attempts. Well, let me say this - for me it can't because it matters to me that I did more than stay on the treadmill.

On the other hand, having said all of these rational, perhaps overly logical, Spock-like things about luck, I'll admit the other side to you. I recently told the person I'm in a relationship with that we couldn't go out anywhere nice - nowhere that I need to dress for (this is a real measure in Boulder, where jeans and flip flops appear in abundance, everywhere). When asked why I said, "Well, you had mentioned doing this when that job was supposedly checking my references (which they did not. They instead asked for my references to keep me on the hook while they decided they couldn't afford to hire anyone full-time, in case they ended up wanting to hire me. Arg). And then I said we shouldn't celebrate until there was something to celebrate. No jumping up and down. So, now I don't want to jinx any other options." And so when we go out, we eat burgers and burritos, which are super tasty, but which I'm sure he'd rather take a break from.

I also have been doing a lot of spitting. this is because I am a massive West Wing fan (ahem, nerd). And on election night there is a whole thing where one of the characters is shocked to find his boss has written a concession speech for an election he is sure the incumbent President is about to win.

Sam Seaborn: You wrote a concession? 
Toby Ziegler: Of course I wrote a concession. You want to tempt the wrath of the whatever from high atop the thing? 
Sam Seaborn: No. 
Toby Ziegler: Then go outside, turn around three times and spit. What the hell's the matter with you? 

I can't afford to tempt the wrath from the whatever from high atop the thing. So, I spit. And when another friend was jumping through the hoops academia asks some of the most highly trained and educated people on the planet to jump through to get jobs, I spit for him too. (Literally. Yes, I know it's gross, but that whole week of job talks and committee meetings and dinners I went out on my porch each evening and spit.) Apparently I have earned that favor being returned because I informed him today that I am on a strict program of merely noting pros and cons of jobs I'm applying or interviewing for, but that nonetheless, I thought it was worth mentioning an interview for an intriguing non-profit. He replied simply with, "I spit for thee."

Smile.

I'm not that superstitious. Though, I spit, and am pleased to be spit (spat?) for. I do not want to get dressed up and go out to dinner prematurely, because . . . well, partially because that dinner will taste better when I know I earned it. And partially because I'm afraid of the wrath, of the you know, up atop, wherever. I know athletes that need to wear certain things for luck, or surgeons. My brother, when he wrestled, had a hand-me-down Grateful Dead tie-dyed tee shirt that my uncle rescued from the liberal arts college he worked at. And wearing that t-shirt became a necessity at every wrestling meet. (It wasn't even his shirt originally!) This is all fine. Some of this, I think, is security and habit. And for all that I am attached to my routines, I don't have a lot of these. At least not that I can think of off the top of my head. "Depend on the rabbit's foot if you will, but remember, it didn't work out for the rabbit." R.E. shay comes to mind. And this is also a reminder that what seems like good luck to my neighbor, might be very bad luck for me . . . or the rabbit.

I do think that what we call luck is often a strange combination of factors, and that we attract opportunity to ourselves, but not always easily. And, it's worth noting, we can attract bad opportunity to ourselves, as when those who have been victims of muggings become victims a second or third time. (It's important to note, I am not saying this is the victim/survivors fault. As a survivor of a violent crime, myself, I know the pain of blaming ones' self. What I am saying is that I took it as my responsibility to make sure I would not appear vulnerable in that way again . . . and it has worked out. So far.) I can't say for sure what counts as luck and fortune, but think, "Being deeply learned and skilled, being well trained and using well spoken words; this is good luck." Buddha. That's the kind of luck I'd like to attribute success to . . . once I find it.

Like my person said recently, "Luck, to me, is simply the vision to recognize the opportunities around us, and the ability to take advantage of them . . . Being able to see what good we can make of what we have in front of us. Not everyone gets all opportunities in front of them but . . . I think there are a lot more opportunities around than most people are able to grab hold of." The ability to see what good we can make of what's before us has been present for me for several months now. My blog-assigning friend quickly jumped on my job-loss as good fortune, intended to be a way out for me. And it brings me back to my dear friend who happens to be in jail and still able to say he is choosing to be happy, choosing to take this time to plumb the foundations of his faith.

But I will also note that my person said all he said about what luck is to him, and then he said, "I'm not 100% sure." No, none of us are.

Mostly, I don't want to fall into treating my good days and bad days as being random, or worse, somehow a punishment visited on me, as with the people in my life who fall back on "bad luck" to explain everything they aren't happy with or aren't prepared to take responsibility for. I'd rather believe, simply, "I'm a great believer in luck, and I find the harder I work the more I have of it. " Thomas Jefferson (man, do I love him as a writer, founding father, and perplexingly contradictory figure)

I am working hard, on all fronts. I will make a slight nod towards the wrath from high atop the thing (much like Bell-ringings at Hampshire College. When I first arrived I used to intentionally walk under the bell to see the heart-stopping looks that DivIII students would give me, thinking, "Umm, yeah. It's a BELL." After seeing a few of these celebrations though, the myth had power, if not for belief in it controlling graduation, for the people I had seen earn their way to it and the respect I had for them. Honestly? By the end of my third year I was carving a wide path around the bell and by my 4th year, trying not to even walk on that side of the building.) but mostly, I'll just keep trying to bust my ass to get what I want. And spit.

We are bound together

You will all remember that last week saw me reflecting deeply and walking through the emotional quicksand of my past employment in order to start the process of working with the recruiting team I have contracted with.

In theory, I adore their approach. They are very intent on determining what pushes people to perform and show their best side, and to help people identify the jobs and opportunities that will contribute to a career - not just a paycheck. Clearly, this is what I was aiming at when I wrote a description of my ideal job. And in other ways, writing about my core values and thinking deeply about what matters to me, and how I know rightness from wrongness, is about finding the right fit too. I can't go back to how I was before, to that lifestyle, certainly, to giving too much for too little in return. But also, I can't go back to being numb and only letting myself measure myself against my values when on the therapy couch. I'm awake now: I feel. I see. I remember.

I can't go back. this means I have to go forward. So, in theory, the idea of testing my skills and competencies, but also having a recruiter strap on a harness and a flashlight and go caving with me to deeply excavate what motivates and excites me is exactly the right step. But in practice, it's hard emotional work for me right now to try and stay present, in this moment, but think ahead to what I want at the same time.

Wanting things is akin to expectations. And expectation can lead to attaching myself to outcomes that may or may not happen. And that is one slippery slope away form disappointment. So, wanting things feels scary to me right now.

But, of course, I do want things. I want a job I can stay in for 3-5+ years; long enough to not just build skills and extend my experience, but to grow into different responsibilities and/or titles and influence positive change. I want not to move out of my condo. I want to go see my friends on the east coast. I want things.

So, when they asked me to write about what motivated and inspired me, what I thought was, This is the mission statement I can't quite get condensed and succinct enough to write yet. But I sat myself down and made myself write the following:
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I care about people being the best they can be, for themselves first, and for one another as an extension of that. As James Taylor says in one of my one of my favorite songs (If you like this blog AT ALL please click the link and listen, as a favor to me), "We are bound together by the task that stands before us. By the road that lies ahead. We are bound. And we are bound."

I believe people owe it to themselves to be aware, to develop core values and to try and check themselves, their decisions, and their impact on others around them against those values. To be responsible for what they bring to others, and for themselves, and to be thoughtful about who they become. I came from a family that was dysfunctional in most of these ways, but had formative experiences that showed me how deeply people are connected, and how powerful it can be to share positively, and to inspire people to investigate their limitations and make a plan to reach for more.

"There is a feeling like the clenching of a fist, there is a hunger in the center of the chest. there is a passage through the darkness and the mist. and though the body sleeps, the heart will never rest. "

I sing because it opens me up to the vulnerability needed to investigate my deepest emotional motivations. I write because I can’t not write. I pursue photography because it helps me stay awake and aware to how I see things and how they can be seen differently. I am not an artist, but it makes my heart stir to create and contribute.

"It is a hunger in the center of my chest, oh yes."

I spend time with children, and students, because it is a reminder to me of the importance of asking questions, seeing things in new ways, and the excitement of seemingly ordinary things. I am a committed life-long learner because stagnation and complacency are the enemy of the kind of considered growth I care about contributing to.

I care about data, because analyzing information is how I form a picture of what has happened, and where new potential lies.  I run and swim because it gives my mind time to process these things. I organize, and plan because I want to be able to do the most I can do, and get the most out of what I am doing.

I give to charity because I know there are problems I can never fix, but not doing what I can do to make things better isn’t something I can live with - not and look at my reflection in the mirror.

"Oh let us turn or thoughts today to Martin Luther King. And recognize that there are ties between us. All men and women, living on the earth, ties of hope and love. Of sister and brotherhood." 

I place deep attention on being honest and maintaining integrity, even when it costs me, but I try also to balance this with being fair and sensitive to other people involved in any process I’m engaged in.

"Shed a little light, so we can see. Just a little light." 

I am an introspective extrovert, and that allows me to reflect deeply on my motivations, and to listen carefully, collect the data on others' passions, and to draw them out to share that information with me. Knowing people, their plans and passions, allows me to best counsel, consult, and train towards better outcomes. I want to create the opportunity for people to be just uncomfortable enough to experience real change and growth, but not so uncomfortable that they turn away from the moment where they can truly not just see potential for change, but can actually put it into action. I put a lot of my energy into careful articulation and communication in both verbal and written form because persuading and exciting people starts with trust and belief, and communication is one of the best foundations for that that I know or can offer.

I want to impact positive change in the world, in my community, in my loved ones and friends, and in myself by carefully considered analysis, thoughtfully matched goals and action plans, disciplined and inspired life-long learning, and providing and accepting the support to see areas of improvement and work towards taking responsibility to change and grow. 
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Ties of hope and love, my dear readers, hippie and tree-huggery or not, it's what I really think. I didn't use all of those song lyrics in what I wrote for that office, (in fact, I quoted James Taylor only once) but the truth is . . . I have seen that the thing that most stops work, productivity, creativity, and growth are problems between people. Its the moments when people stop talking, and start assuming, blaming, yelling, striking, or giving up on each other that alters the path irrevocably. I've also seen how getting things done, how momentum and growth and contribution is so powerfully impacted by people working and playing well with one another. When we connect mindfully, when we use it to do good things, it is the best thing.

Some day I'll be able to boil all of this down to a mission statement, but for today it was enough that I could articulate that on paper for my consultant, and have deep conversation about it and related topics. Whew. And now . . . I'm tired!!!

Unemployment is good for working out

I love games. I pretty frequently lose them (unless I'm on team "Winning!" for Taboo . . . hee hee!), but I enjoy how games mentally challenge me.

I also love, love, love my brother even though we are often competitive with each other. Who's mom's favorite? Which one of us is smarter, funnier, or most beloved? We are mostly kidding about these things (but not entirely). So, when he and I came up with a makeshift and ridiculously funny game, we both went all in.

I'm not sure how this came about, but when he got his iPhone he and I were showing each other tricks, tips, and apps. I showed him how to set up folders and move apps on the screens, he showed me how to set up my navigator. I told him to get Words with Friends, and he told me to get Dictionary.com. "Why?!" I said. He said, "Well, this might sound stupid, but I like getting the word of the day. Then, even though I'm a jock and a bartender, I try to use it in a sentence three times. I don't care if people think it's weird. I do what I want."

I was pretty impressed with that so I downloaded it immediately. And somehow over the next week, what evolved was a game of our own making. We started texting each other with sentences using the word of the day. And somehow this turned into, a sentence using the word of the day making fun of something or someone in our family. This, in turn, evolved into whichever one of us got the best sentence FIRST using the word of the day gets the "point." Now, we don't (to my knowledge) ever count points across weeks or months. But whoever gets the point gets the pride of that . . . until the next day :)

The effect of this is that I get to text my brother nearly every day. a couple of weeks ago the word was "excogitate." I managed to use it in a sentence referencing another running inside joke we have going right now. So, we were both laughing at my text. Then he asked how I was. And we started talking about working out - a common theme in our conversations. He said, "Unemployment is good for working out."

He should know. He played this game for nearly two years. And I saw how hard unemployment was on him. It was a similar situation in that his job was eliminated through no fault of his. He combated the difficult emotions of joblessness through humor. He would quote the movie "Knocked up" and say, "Yeaaaahhhh. I'm uh . . . no work today!" He laughed at the lifestyle of wearing sweats every day. But I know he was also anxious, antsy, and upset about the situation. So, he made jokes. He became sarcastic, and he poured even more of himself into working out. And that's saying a lot since he had been running, lifting, and practicing Jiu-Jitsu before he was let go. He had not one, but two low-cost gym memberships during that time. And he used them both.

So, when he said, "Unemployment is good for working out." I thought about it for a minute and then knew, that of all people, he would best understand when I said," And vice versa. It helps me not get crazy or depressed."

It will not be a shocker to any of you that while I don't exactly look forward to my dates with the treadmill, I have come to appreciate my time being active. Where it used to be a chore and necessity, I now really, really need that time. It is time out of the house. It is time away from screen. It is time away from my fears that I will end up living under someone else's roof.

So, it turns out, that I am not a sloth, regardless of what my physique might suggest.

A couple of weeks ago I was talking to another friend who was checking on me and I said to him, about not responding right away, "Sorry, you caught me at the end of my run." He asked if it was a good one. As it happened it wasn't, but what I said was, "There are no good runs. Only running assignments I accomplish and those I don't." This is still true almost every day. I don't enjoy how my body feels when I'm running. Pardon me while I sound like an old lady - my feet hurt, my back hurts, my knee hurts, and it takes a lot more focus than someone like me with some ADD tendency often has to get my breathing in rhythm. I often have to close my eyes and try to go inward to somewhere that has nothing to do with the people on the treadmills next to me, the TV screen above me, the (not really so awful) pain, and the voice inside my head saying, "Stop!"

But the other thing that is true is that I'm grateful for it. Where I used to be assigned 90 - 120 minutes of cardio a week and 3 hours of high interval resistance, I'm now still doing the resistance but adding to the cardio . . . on purpose. Yesterday I swam two miles and ran two miles. The day before I lifted and then swam two miles. On a treadmill I'm not second guessing a cover letter. On a treadmill I'm not wondering about an interview. On a treadmill I'm far too busy to add and re-add a budget. I can fight for something tangible on a treadmill.

I wish I had understood this before I lost my job. The truth is, this is, in very real ways, the cure for many of my very real health issues. Working out can only positively impact PCOSor anyone working against insulin by stabilizing their health through regular exercise, and particularly a good blend of cardio and resistance, interval and/or anaerobic training.  Asthmatics who exercise stand to reduce stress (which can trigger respiratory issues), increase lung function, and sleep better. Whatever issues with focus I have are measurably improved by burning some energy off, and even my migraine issues are improved by exercising. While running may not be the very best thing to do for my knees (swimming IS but is not the very best thing I could do for my hair. Yes, that's right, I am a real girl somewhere underneath all of my facade and I have this one vanity) I figure this: my knees are wrecked enough that they're not going to last the rest of my lifetime. But they're working now so I should take advantage of it (because I can still remember palpably how frustrated I was when confined to an arm bike for weeks and weeks while my knees couldn't bear weight).

"But Christie, you were getting 5 hours of exercise a week before." Yes. Yes I was. But it wasn't enough. I've written about this before. Everyone else in the world gets weight control results from 3-5 hours of exercise a week. I don't. That's just the way it goes. So, if my weight goals weren't responsive to 5 hours a week, it stands to reason that my other health goals weren't being completely serviced by 5 hours a week. Also, let's be honest - 5 hours a week was the goal but between being on the road or on a plane or in a hotel it was often closer to 3 or 4 hours a week. And as I said recently to my trainer, "The thing is, before, if my exercise was on, my food wasn't. Or vice-versa. It was never both being right at the same time." I take responsibility for that. I also think, in analyzing it, I wasn't ever going to be able to fully take on changing that if half my life was spent in transit, without any schedule that resembles normal human life, and unable on many occasions to plan or cook my meals.

So, I'm aimed at 5-6 hours of cardio each week now, in addition to my other "assignments." as much as possible, I try to keep it low impact cardio, and I'm really not thinking of it being "extra" cardio right now. To me it seems more like having missed school and needing to make up for it. As a child, I  was hospitalized for asthma related complications and illnesses at least 2 times a year. My shortest hospitalization was 4 days. My longest was 4 weeks. There was always some homework I could do once I had gotten a little better and wasn't fighting for my life (literal, not exaggeration. I know how to handle it, but fighting for a breath and having your oxygen levels drop despite medication is scary) but I also often had a busy schedule of blood tests, chest X-rays, respiratory therapy, and treatments. So, then, I'd go back to school and have a lot of homework to make up. I feel like that now - I'm making up homework from when I was sick. The difference is I wasn't consumed with chest x-rays or IVs, but with work before now. I did miss hours, and hours of agreed upon "homework" though.

So, when someone said to my 2 miles of running and 2 miles of swimming last night, "Gawwwd. that sounds awful," I was able to say, "I know. But it helps me not freak out right now so it's a good thing. It's hard to get too crazy when I'm this tired."

As I peer through the window of hopeful employment this month I find myself often thinking about the logistics of different positions and quickly on the heels of that thinking, "would I still be able to count on myself to get my workouts in?" I may not, when I go back to work, keep my gym time as high as 9-10 hours a week, but I'd like for it to be higher than the minimum required 5 hours. I sleep better, I like myself better, and the treadmill and I, if no yet friends, are now showing grudging respect for one another. That would have to be considered important even if I was spending 40 hours a week working instead of 30 hours a week job hunting and interviewing.

How would your friends describe you?

It's no secret that I am busily interviewing around and trying to close myself a job offer.

Interviews are interesting places for someone like me. I typically present pretty well since I am an ENFJ. I have some typical ENFJ strengths such as being a communicator, and strong verbally. I come across as being very self-aware (and I think it's not just an act, most of the time), intuitive and empathetic, friendly, and gregarious. This bodes well in an interview, especially since at this point I'm seeking only jobs where I would be impacting people.

I've heard recently that employers are asking people strange questions just to see how they deal with curve balls. Well, if my interview involved being on an actual baseball field and hitting a ball, no way, but I'd like to think I handle those questions ok. I've been asked what my greatest accomplishment was, if I've ever inspired anyone, what the most courageous thing I've done at work is. None of that seems too out of bounds. I have a friend who was asked, recently, "Do you believe in UFOs?" So, I've been gearing up for weirder questions just in case.

The question that has stuck with me afterwords the longest was, "How would your friends describe you." I have been asked a version of this question a couple of times now. And, of course, I start listing things that I think are true of me but also things that have a positive spin on them.

In my most recent interview, the conversation was so open and un-contrived, I felt free to give a deeper picture. I said, "I think my friends would tell you that I'm loyal, talkative, gregarious, and friendly. I tend to be outgoing, and to get along with different people well. I think my friends would also tell you I'm fairly determined and structured, and that there are good and less good things about this. I'm definitely the planner of the group - I'm likely to be the person who finds something for us to do, sends out the email, sends out the address, makes the requests for who is bringing what to the potluck and keeps track of all of that. I think my really good friends would tell you I'm not a surface person and that I listen carefully and am pretty thoughtful and considerate and often generous. My friends often tell me I'm funny and quirky but I don't always experience that from the inside as much as they see it on the outside. I also think my closest friends would tell you there is very little I do lightly. That I take myself very seriously and am very careful and analytical when I'm thinking something over or making a decision."

I think most of those things are fairly true. If you asked my closest girl friend and best friend from grad school, she would tell you that my need for structure and inflexibility was legendary, but that I would never have not been there for a friend who needed me, including her. If you asked one of my most interesting friends, and my best friend from college, he would tell you that I sometimes was a pain in the ass, but that he knew it came from good intentions, and that even when we struggled with each other, I was unwilling to give up on our friendship because of my determination and loyalty. He would also say that my tendency to be driven and focus on things too tightly was sometimes detrimental to my relationships and to my inclination to not just beat myself up, but to flog myself. If you asked my closest friend from . . . ever he would tell you, well, everything! That is the deal when you know someone for 32 years. He's known me as long as one of my siblings has, and longer than two of my siblings, and our deal is to tease each other with all the stories we have of each other's past.

What would he say? I think he'd say that I am determined, and deeply committed to doing the right thing, not just by a process or job, but by the people in it. And that when I love, I love fully. I suspect he'd also say that I'm generous and loving, but also sometimes mislead by those tendencies. And his husband? Well, I think he'd tell you that I often overthink things, but that I work to put those thoughts together in the right package blending humor, analysis, and human needs. I also think he'd tell you that I'm very, very honest and sometimes more independent than is good for anyone but that I wear my heart on my sleeve and whatever I have is something I'm willing to give. My guess is that if anyone were to use the world moral to describe me, it'd be him. Although I have NOT known him for 32 years, we have a lot in common, and most of the things he would say about me are things I would say about him. There is a reason he has become another best friend (not just husband-of) in my life.

I asked a couple of my friends and this is what I got back:

Loyal - actually all of them said this. So, I guess this is true of me. I don't guess, I know. I stick with people, sometimes to a fault. In fact, I wrote a post about this.

Loving - you know, this is true of me but sometimes I wish it were more true. I want to see, recognize, accept, and offer more love. It is a value of mine so when I sink into being judgmental, or insulated, I really feel I have failed in this

Generous - this is also a value of mine. It matters to me to be giving of my time, attention, and concern. It matters to me to treat people with that open spirit, and it matters to me to be giving in more tangible ways. It was nice that some of my friends said this.

Driven - I am. There is no doubt. and there is an appealing side to this, and a less appealing side to this. Sometimes I persist in ways that are really destructive and even annoying, or present my enthusiasm and above-and-beyond-ness as being pretty intense or pushy.

Tenacious - I've written about this. I'm not a "nice" girl. Which is to say, I am a caring person (see generous and loving above) but I'm not one who will sit back and let things roll by me without comment. I speak up, and I have a strong personality. It's not for everyone, and I know that. But it is also what allows me to be strong and do challenging things. Tenacious is also, I think, about the fact that I'm tough. There's a hard outer coating. It's not a facade, and it's also not obvious to everyone that I'm armored, but I am because sometimes I need to push through things, and often, I've had to do it too much on my own.

Dogged- yup. I was glad one of my friends put a pure negative out there. I am. I get stuck in my patterns and ruts and expectations, and if I'm too focused, I will stay on that even if it isn't good for me or the people around me.

Dedicated - this is the flip side of being sometimes dogged. I'm determined. In my work, this means it matters to me to GET IT RIGHT. In school this meant I was more than willing to put extra work in on things that weren't my forte. And in my personal life, this means I don't let go and work very hard to do what needs to be done to be there for my peeps. It also means I accept a high level of responsibility and demand of myself a high level of accountability. This sometimes looks and feels very intense from the outside, I've learned in the last 6 years or so.

Planner - what a shocker to hear this! This is a very nice way to say I'm a freak about structure and organization. People benefit from it, to be sure, when I organize my choir or help a friend make lists and plans or pack and move, but it doesn't make anyone's heart sing as much as it does mine! And it also has high potential to rub people the wrong way. The liability to this is I sometimes get too attached to my plans. I've had a lot of growth in that in the last 5 years, but it is still true that it can take me a beat to release a plan and be appropriately flexible.

Knowledgeable - my good friend here in Colorado said she thinks this is why I can get along with so many different people, from different perspectives and walks of life. I think there's some truth to this. I was talking to someone else in my personal sphere last night and said, "I'm a voracious learner. Not always a fast learner, but an avid one." I truly want to understand what I'm hearing or seeing and I have a bit of weird brain in that I carry a LOT of that with me and it gets blurted out in conversation. I know all kinds of nerdy, nerdy things and often cringe as I hear myself saying, "Well, I read a book that said . . . " Ugh. I'm still that girl from high school some days.

What I started thinking about though is, What would my siblings say about me? (Mua hah hah hah) They know me too, and let me tell you, unlike my friends they would NOT hold back in mentioning the difficult things about me.

I think my brothers would have a lot to say about me being too structured. At least one of them would flat out say that means I am bossy and demanding. There is real truth to this. It was more true when I was younger and the oldest child. Now that we're all adults I try to make decisions and plans collaboratively. But sometimes, in dire moments, I will just tell people what to do. I had an interesting conversation with my aunt who is the oldest of six kids (oy!). She was helping me and her daughters make some plans and laid it all out in a well planned email, with time lines, addresses, etc (sound familiar?). She was laughing at herself and referring to herself as "Das Commander." (Umm, lol, by the way) and I said, "But who else was going to make that happen?" The thing is, sometimes someone needs to be bossy to get things done. And when that's what's needed . . . I fill that role. The trick is to recognize when that is NOT needed! I have put a fair amount of work into that in the last decade.

My youngest bro would tell you that I sometimes have ridiculous reactions to things. This is due in part to the fact that sometimes what I think or feel is not something he can fathom as a man living a very different life than me. But sometimes it is because I've over-reacted! He would also tell you that when I over-react to things it's because I really care; it's not an act. He would maybe not use the words my friends used, but probably express that my love is generous and unyielding. I think he also knows me as being loyal and caring. About a year ago I spent a couple of nights listening to him deeply, and as we walked away from our beers he said, "You know. I don't tel you enough. But you are a really awesome big sister. It's good to have you on my side." I love him fiercely, so I was glad that he felt it.

Of all of my family, I think he is the one most likely to work to give you a clear and balanced picture of me. We have talked really openly about how we both tend to be hard on people, and to thrive with a level of structure that isn't comfortable for most. We've talked about the liabilities and benefits to being driven, intense people. He is also very likely to find some combination of words to express that he thinks I am tough or brave in some way, and that I work hard to not be anybody's victim, but that I also sometimes play things safer or aim lower than I should. He's not wrong. He is also the person in my life that is most likely to say, "Well, you knew that wasn't good." He knows me on that level because we are both really uncomfortably honest people at times.

My middle brother is very mysterious to me . . . so I suspect that means I am puzzling to him too. We are very different people, and very different personalities. I think we often don't make a lot of sense to each other. He would have a lot to say about me assuming the in-charge role too much, but also about my being analytical, well-read, and interested in information and philosophy. Unfortunately, I think he experiences my different perspective, my working brain, and my love for structure as me judging him. Sometimes I think that's about how things look from where he sits, and sometimes I think that is about what I put out. The truth has to lie somewhere in between, and I have to accept my share of that responsibility.

I think my sister would tell you I am quirky and funny and loving, but also that I overthink things, and that my standards are too high for anyone. Me, her, anyone. I think, based on her comments, she experiences me as being very cerebral and principled and that she is often not sure how that fits with my caring, considerate side. I do think she feels like I am good to others, but not to myself, and that I am not as open with feelings as I could be. I think she feels and experiences that tough outer shell more than other people do. A lot of people don't see it - they view me as being open and friendly and talkative and gregarious. And I AM. But I'm also, as  I've mentioned, reluctant to let everyone all the way in. I pick and choose my people and moments and situations for that. And where others might mention this as me being tough and resilient, I think she feels it as me being somehow really, really hard to be close with. Maybe not as hard as some of our family, but harder than she wishes. And I am hard. I make people work for it - I don't do it manipulatively, but it is a definite pattern in my life. I think she sometimes finds my nerdy, verbal, tough outer shell a little intimidating or intense. I think she also appreciates that I am someone who likes to get shit done, and since we both grew up as the oldest (she in her house, and me in mine) I think we see what each other is like in this regard - and that sometimes someone has to take the lead.

It's interesting to think about how people know me, and if I have any grasp at all on how I look from the outside. I like to flatter myself and think that I do but it makes me wonder if employers called up three of my friends randomly, and one of my siblings, what would they hear? And what would that make them think of me? I also, of course, wonder what my references will say about me. I asked my therapist once what he thinks about me as a functioning person in the world, and he named self-awareness and analysis as some of the things that have seen me through, so hopefully I'm not way off base . . . geez it would be bad to hold myself out in some way, get a job, and then find their interpretation of me as a fit was wrong on all sides. I am blessed to have had enough time and healing from my last job that I've arrived at a policy of integrity in this job search, and of presenting myself well, but with careful honesty. Fingers crossed that it will see me into the right job - you know, one I can delight in being LOYAL to.

Reconciling with my office

I had a really dumb moment yesterday.

For a decently intelligent person, this happens more often than I wish. One of the ones my mom likes to giggle about was two years ago when my mom was teaching me how to play backgammon. I was kicking around her house just after Christmas and my brother, mom, and I had all been snowed in and were a little stir crazy. For my bro this manifested as retreating to a TV and monosyllabic communication. For me this brought out my silly version of cabin fever, and for my mom she was bustling around the kitchen. All of a sudden I had a memory of a similar night years ago, and my parents sitting at the kitchen table of the house I grew up in playfully baiting each other in a game of backgammon.

I realized I had never learned. This seemed ridiculous since my parents used to play all the time. So, on a whim I went into the kitchen and said, "Mom, do you have a backgammon board? Would you be willing to teach me?" This, in case you were wondering, was my "smart" moment. As she almost skipped to the basement to get the backgammon set up, I put together a snack. Within about 10 minutes of her teaching me, my brother had come into the kitchen and said, "Can I play you once you learn?" It was great. We went from all being antsy and separate to doing something together in about 10 minutes.

My mom explained to me that at the beginning of a game each player rolls one die and whoever gets the higher roll uses the combined roll as their first turn. Now, this is a "fancy" backgammon set with the leather cups for rolling the dice. So, she handed me the cup and the two die. I looked at her bewildered and said, "How do you roll only one?"

Pause. And she looked at me like, Are you kidding me?! And then pointedly picked up one of her die, put it to the side, and put the second die in the cup and then gave me the "Ta-da!" face.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh. (Duh)

Now, whenever we play backgammon she says, "How do you roll only one?" in a mocking tone and sometimes if she thinks I'm being particularly flaky in some other situation I hear this phrase mumbled under her breath in the, I'm purposely making it so you can hear it volume.

That's ok, I deserve it.

I have these moments. We all do. Secretly, it's actually great for me when my family ribs me about these things since I am often a little more sharp-tongued than I should be and quick to tease them. It balances things out.

Yesterday, I had a dumb moment that revealed something interesting to me though.

Here is the scenario. A very interested company wanted to do an initial interview with me via Skype. I am tres interested in the company, and let me just say it is a name that would not be too shabby to be associated with, but was pleased to have an opportunity to learn more about the job itself.

I am new to Skype in the last couple of weeks but it seems like a pretty sweet deal. However, for this Skype meeting, I wanted to be very prepared. I thought about what questions might be asked, I prepared my questions, and had paper and pen on hand in order to take notes. I even got up early and put on makeup and an interview outfit so that I would appear professional.

About 30 minutes before the interview, I set my computer down on the kitchen table and turned on the camera on my laptop so I could check and make sure I looked ok. I looked fine, but saw a few distracting things in the background behind me. One of them is a very hilarious book, but, well, let's just say, not one I leave out if children are visiting me. (Smile). So, I scrambled around trying to move things. As I did, it occurred to me that the blank yellow wall behind me was a little overwhelming visually. Then I started to fret thinking, "Well, I could sit on the couch, but then he's seeing the back of my couch. The bedroom, but then that's unprofessional." After a few minutes more of pondering what to move and where to be . . . it hit me.

There is ANOTHER room in my house. In fact it is a room that is white walled, and basically empty. It even has decent lighting and a desk. Imagine that. That's right, my office still stands empty.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh. (Duh)

This is to say, I have not yet re-established that room. I do ALL of my job hunting and applying in the arm chair in my living room or from my kitchen table. If I'm writing this blog, or messing around on Facebook I can probably be found sprawled on my bed (as I am now) or on my couch (and on one emotional occasion, standing up at my kitchen counter).

I go into the office once a week to copy something for my (awesome) trainer and/or print something for a job interview. Other than that I treat it much as I did before. It's a separate land, not intersecting with my home. Think of it as Middle Earth or something.

When it was literally my office it was as if it was a nearly completely indepenedent sphere from anything else my house touched. Once a year I would go in there on personal time to do my taxes. The rest of the time, I was only in there if actually working. And it felt like I was sequestering myself and entering a different place. I realized in my last year of work how profound this conception of my office was in a couple of different ways. If I "cleaned the house" I would sweep and mop the kitchen, living room and dining room. As I headed down the hall I would get the laundry room and bathroom on the right, but sail right past the office on the left and head directly into the master bedroom. I also discovered that I would give tours of my house to people visiting and skip over that room. People would be like, "Ummm, what's in there??" (is it a murder room?!) And I would respond, ""Oh, that's my office." and keep walking.

So, in my mind, it is STILL my office, and why would I go in there unless I'm working.

Which of course I am NOT. Sooooooooooo, yeah.

Basically this means I haven't been in there or considered that room as having a place in my life since a month ago when it was cleaned out.

Partially, this is because unemployment has been unexpectedly busy for me. There are certainly days I don't get up until after 8. And there are days I watch TV at 2pm, to be sure. But, I have been blessed with a lot to do. I've caught up with friends, and while that doesn't, perhaps, have significance in terms of landing a job, it has been instrumental in my healing from all of this sudden change. I had a real awakening right after I lost my job when so, so many friends contacted me to offer me support and then worked into the conversation, "So, if you're not working when you return from the holidays, do you have time to hang out?" It was an epiphany for me how much the last job had restricted me from being the friend I wanted to be, hell, from having a life.

I also got my car fixed from an accident that happened, literally, a week before my position was eliminated, an with the very supervisor, in my very car,  who let me go. Luckily, the accident was the fault of the person who hit me and was thus completely covered. The cost to me was only time.

And, yes, I have, been applying a lot, and I have been very encouraged to have response to a job I've applied for EVERY week since my unemployment commenced, and an interview on each week except the first. So, I've been busy.

Still, it seems a little silly that in the last four weeks I haven't put any time into re-acquainting myself with that room, going through the things in it, re-organizing, or even putting realistic thought into what I'd like that room to be. (Having said that, of course in the last day I've thought about it. The words of my cool, hilarious chicca friend on the very night I lost my job ring in my ears, "That is the room your foster baby will sleep in." But, that's a little bit cart before the horse at this point. Exercise room? If I get a well paying job I'd be happy to put an elliptical in there. Guest room? Upgrade my bed, and get a futon couch set up going in there? Hmmmmm)

This is a little like when my fiance and I broke up. During the conversation about done-ness he was indicating that maybe he'd come back for his things. I wanted to be smart and realized he had never paid a single cent of rent on this place, and was secondary on the lease so I wanted to reduce ambiguity and suggested he get his things right then, many of which were still in boxes. It seemed to make sense. I started hauling his stuff out, and eventually he (grudgingly) joined me. Of course, in our haste, things got left behind. Months later I found myself in various conversations about my need for him to get his things or give me permission to get rid of them.

A lot of things happened, and he didn't seem to understand that he could divorce himself from his stuff if he needed to, but that given some of his actions and threats, I wouldn't remove those things unless I had written permission. He was stubborn and stupid (and of course, I wasn't stubborn at ALL!), so this went on for a ridiculous amount of time. The result was that 6 months after our break up he was still cycling through "I'll be nice, get her to do what I need, and then disassociate myself as soon as she mentions anything she needs . . . even if it's as simple as sending her permission to dump my stuff."

I finally got the permission I needed, and felt I was really, truly DONE (I mean, other things happened. In fact it got really complicated and, regrettably, bitter.) about 9 months after the break up.

But somehow it took awhile for me to actually throw his shit OUT. And when I did, it felt incredibly good, momentous, even. And nothing could have been simpler than taking 45 minutes to gather it all up, check through the house, and carry the boxes out. I wondered why I had waited so long. But I did.

In that case, it was definitely hard for me to completely let go and move on. It took a lot of work and tears, and hard conversations with people who loved me. I wanted things to go differently than they did, even once I had accepted that we weren't right for each other. I wanted more closure than walking his stuff to a dumpster. And I had to take my time to reconcile myself with the fact that what I got was a watermelon story (ask if you want to know!), some really inexplicable emails, a court date to keep him out of my life, and a quiet Sunday where I enjoyed the sun and the feeling of releasing the last vestiges of our relationship into the dumpster. I couldn't change the hand dealt to me, just how I played it. It just took me a beat (or you know, however many beats fit into that number of months) to re-strategize and resolve to play it out.

I process slowly sometimes. This is, I think, not related to my occasional brain dead moment. It's more related to things I've mentioned before. Somehow my emotional path, and the roles I played in my family have lead me to a . . . hmm, strategy sounds too contrived and planned and it's not . . . I'd say, it's lead me to a HABIT of processing things all on my lonesome, off in a corner, and often disconnected from whatever event first gave rise to those feelings. There are benefits to this - it means it is RARE for me to have a sudden passionate bad reaction. It happens more than it used to, and more with people who I know really deeply and trust more. In a weird way, if I'm reacting to something in the moment badly, it's a compliment to that person because I can't do it unless I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I'm fully loved. as a result, it's only happened with my mom, sister, and best best bestbestbest friend in recent years.

On the flip side, those same people (and others!) would tell you that I sometimes baffle them by reacting to something that happened days (or weeks, or months) ago. They feel lost and . . . betrayed? I don't want to speak for them, but know this is the liability of my peculiarity of appearing to be emotive and open, but actually packing up emotions, putting them in boxes, and taking my time getting around to unpacking them and actually DEALING WITH the stuff inside.

People like me often have ulcers and migraines. And all of this emotional delay mirrors what I do with ACTUAL STUFF. I took almost a year to throw his crappy shit out! Almost 3 months after he gave me the permission to do so! I put it in boxes and then put it away, where I couldn't see it, but where it still took up space in my house.If that's not the outward picture of what I do inwardly, I don't know what is.

I know I have to take my time with that room. Not because I miss my job like I miss relationships once they end. Mostly, I feel relief when I think about NOT working for that company. I don't miss the tasks, the lifestyle, or the stress. The gratitude to be released from that is so immense that it eclipses the real missing of 5 of the people I worked with. I miss the certainty of a paycheck, that's it.

But I had a dysfunctional relationship with that job, and as a result, I had a dysfunctional relationship with that room. It will take some time for the room and I to receive each other differently.

If I was a person with more means, it would be great to go out, get some furniture and paint and posters and just go to town on that room. But I'm not, so it will take some time for me to re-friend that room. I, however, aspire for it to take less than a year. And so it starts with just going in there more to remember that that is space that belongs to me, not to my former company. It's MINES!!! (hahahah)