No Pomp, Just Circumstance

Claire-Adele finished college this week. I would say she "graduated," but there was no ceremony. All graduation activities were canceled due to concerns about the omicron variant. Last Thursday, Claire-Adele got an email from the university saying "with a heavy heart," everything was off. The keynote speaker was supposed to be Jeff Kinney, the guy who wrote the "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" series and graduated from University of Maryland. Actually, he graduated from the University of Maryland first, then wrote about the "Wimpy Kid," a story about a hapless middle schooler and his family. It is pee-your-pants funny, right up there with Captain Underpants by Dav Pinkey.

Claire-Adele has been through two stages of grief, so far: sadness and anger. She cried and sobbed when she found out. She was so upset she dropped a couple of f-bombs. "'We are sorry for the inconvenience,'" she said, reading from the UMD email. She found their wording insufficient. "'Inconvenience' is when the wifi is down, not canceling graduation." She got really salty when she got another email saying they were selling tickets to a basketball game in the same venue.

It was confirmed that selling basketball tickets while canceling graduation was a bad thing. Yesterday, I was walking through Logan Circle in D.C. and I was approached by a guy from CNN filming a segment called "Ask the Ethicist."

"Hypocrisy!" shouted Norm when I told my my daughter's tale of woe. "It is unfair! These institutions are so big that they aren't connected to people anymore. They don't see people's faces when they make decisions. Plus you spent thousands of dollars to travel here! They don't know the impact." This Norm guy was all over it.

"What are you doing for her instead?" Norm asked.

I drew a blank. The notice of the canceled graduation was so short we didn't think of an alternative plan. Neither did the university. There was no Zoom graduation with the kids' names scrolling by, no speeches by the university president designed to make parents cry. We came to Maryland anyway, not knowing what else to do. Claire-Adele said she will go happily to her kids' graduations at some distant date in the future, knowing she missed her own.

Yesterday afternoon was the originally scheduled date for the graduation. Instead of going to the ceremony, we walked around a very quiet campus. The last day of finals is today, but only a few kids were around the campus studying. A few kids walked around in their caps and gowns getting pictures taken. Others were moving out. Others were with their parents, hitting the campus bookstore, buying gifts.

Claire-Adele made a reservation for dinner at a campus bar and grill. She wore a white dress along with her cap and gown, hair done, make-up on, as if she were at her real graduation. It was strange for all of us not have had a ceremony. There was no moment marking before and after, no moment of her marching across the stage as they called her name. It just was. 

Claire-Adele starts a new job in January in D.C.. She is very excited about the role and the position pays well, well enough for her to live in the big city. Even though she could afford her own place, she will stay in her campus apartment through the spring, and then will move. She will be off the family dole next month. For that, I am grateful. She has been growing towards independence, and now she is free.

I didn't take any pictures of her in her cap and gown. We don't have any group or family photos with her. I don't have a picture of her walking across the stage with someone handing her a diploma.

Instead, I have a picture of her in my mind. I see her back, marching out of the bar and grill ahead of me with her bare legs, high heels and gown flowing. Her head was high, ready to take on the world, no matter what it dishes out.

Why Can't I Want What I Want?

The other day, I was at community group event that had a silent bake-sale silent auction. The committee members baked holidays cookies put them up for sale. I bid on a bunch of stuff that looked good, but on the first pass, I didn't bid on the chocolate covered popcorn, a favorite holiday treat. 

Why didn't I bid on it? I bid on cranberry bread and cookies and whatnot, all of which looked delicious. My body wanted the popcorn, but my buzzkill brain said no. What the heck? It wasn't like my brain was vetoing the Bellagio* at the Cheesecake Factory. My brain should have said no to that. That is why I have a brain. But chocolate covered popcorn wasn't any more or less healthy than any other bake good on the tables. And I was willing to bid on stuff that I didn't prefer as much, so I wasn't saying no to the whole bake sale. My brain was saying no for the sake of saying no. On my second pass around the table, I bid on the popcorn. The rest of my body vetoed my brain's Grinch.

Yesterday, my brain pulled this same veto trick while I was shopping. I found this cute place where a woman makes leather goods, like purses and wallets. In the shop, a beautiful robin egg blue portfolio for a composition book caught my eye. Like, "Wow that is cool." I use composition books all the time for work. Having a nice portfolio would be fun. "That isn't practical. I should get a tan or black one." 

Brain -- you are killing me! Why wouldn't you let me want what I want? Why do you try to talk me out of something beautiful that would bring joy to my life? Why is the first impulse when I see something I like to say no? This portfolio was $60 -- not a bank breaker. I don't already own fifteen portfolios and you are trying to stop me from hoarding. You were just saying no for the sake of saying no. Why?

Why?

Is there some deep seated psychological root to this? Is this a habit that I have developed on my own, no one else to blame? I am so afraid of spending money that anything with a price tag causes me to pause? How long have I been subconsciously--and perhaps consciously--saying no to beautiful and lovely things?

Now that I am aware that I am doing this to myself, I am going to explore this phenomena. But first, you might want to know how the story ended. 

I won the popcorn and it was as delicious as I imagined. And I bought the portfolio.

So far, so good. Let's see what else happens when I learn to say yes.

* I don't know if this is still the case, but the Bellagio used to be the highest calorie meal (2,000) at a national restaurant chain. 

Crying

Today was a rough day. Yesterday was a rough day. Monday and Tuesday were rough days.

Oy.

For the past six weeks, I was focused on one part of my personal life, and this week there was a break through were things are looking up. There are a few minor set backs, but overall it looks good. This area had demanded a lot of my attention, and everything else was shoved to the back burner. Think of cooking a meal, let's say shrimp and rice. Shrimp are hard to cook because they need to be cooked all the way through so they aren't raw, but nor much more so or else they get rubbery. I was really focused on not overcooking the shrimp. Once I felt confident the shrimp was right, I checked the rice and it was a mess.

Today I cried about the rice. I cried and cried and cried. I probably cried about my worry about the shrimp, too. I talked to Ellen. I talked to my dad. I talked to other friends. And I cried. Before I cried, I had been really anxious and jittery and unable to focus on anything else. The weird thing is I used to live like that. All of the time. I was talking to a friend in my recovery program about anxiety attacks, where you just get spun up. I can't say that I've specifically had panic attack in my life before, but I could relate to her experience.

"I used to think that living like that was normal," I said.

Now I realize it wasn't normal, or at least I was tired of living that way.

When we get in ruts like that, it is easy to think that crazy is normal because we are used to it, and we don't know how to change, how to get better.

The first I needed to do was cry. I didn't want to cry. I wanted to rant and pace and be anxious, but I didn't want to cry. I couldn't hold it back any longer.

When I was done crying, I felt so much better. I was crying about cooking the shrimp and cooking the rice.

When I talked to my dad about crying, he said it doesn't solve the problem and it isn't a solution, but it clears the path so you can find you way out.

Amen.

Swearing

I've been talking to my dad more recently, and I am becoming aware of how much he swears. I had never noticed it much before. I knew he wasn't a guy who didn't swear, but holy cow! Maybe this is where I learned how to express myself using a variety of four letter words.

Or maybe he learned it from me? 

Oy. I am a bad influence on my son and dad? Pedro swears like a sailor and I certainly know where he gets that from.

Maybe I really need to clean up my act and drop the swearing. That would take a significant amount of discipline. I'd rather not eat sugar, get thirty minutes of cardio every day, do my pre-ski season leg blaster exercises and lose twenty pounds before I give up swearing.

I don't swear (much) at work. When Pedro was little, I told him the key to swearing is knowing your audience and intent. 

• Swearing among your friends -- okay
• Swearing at your friends -- not okay
• Swearing with your friends during class -- not okay
• Swearing in front of your mother -- okay
• Swearing at your mother -- not okay
• Swearing in front of your grandmother -- not okay

He understood right away. He managed it so well that his paternal grandfather after a week of visiting tried to teach Pedro to swear. It was delightful. 

Perhaps I need to revisit my own audience list in general. Maybe my early New Year's resolution will be to stop swearing. I wonder how long I could go, and how I could track it. I swear so much, I don't even notice it. And I'll need to find more creative ways to express myself. I don't want to say "crap" instead of "shit," or "dang" instead of "damn." I need to say "That is frustrating" or "That is annoying" instead of "Bullshit."

Bridget Jones would start each diary entry with how many calories she ate, how much she weighed and how much she drank. (Bridget is the best literary creating since Elizabeth Bennett.) Maybe I'll do a Bridget Jones where I list at the top of each post how many times I swore in a day. 

Wish me luck!

Conscious versus Subconscious

(I haven't written any blog posts in November. Oy. Sorry about that. Hopefully I'll be back in business soon.)

I've been reading a lot lately in my downtime lately. Reading and thinking. In my diet app (which wasn't open in November, either), there was an article that stated the human mind picks up forty conscious details every second. The subconscious picks up two million cues.

Walk into a different room and it is familiar, right? Unless you have dementia, you will know that you have moved from the kitchen to living room. You won't walk into it and say "Where the hell am I?" Likewise, re-arrange your furniture and you will probably bump into it for a week. Visit a friend's house that you see regularly. You might not know where they keep the colander, but you probably know where they keep the tea mugs. You don't have to rack your mind nor did they say "This is where I keep the teacups. Can you remember?" You just "know" with no work required.

What do we do with those extra 173 billion cues we pick up in a day? The 63 trillion cues we pick up in a year? I saw an article in the New Yorker (that I didn't read yet) about how animals navigate when traveling. Think of the Arctic terns that fly from the north pole to the south pole and back every year. how do they know? Perhaps an individual bird doesn't fly alone, maybe they fly in flock, which brings us to another wonderful idea of hive mind, the collective conscious. I am guessing that these birds must use their subconscious cues to navigate, they tap into these cues they've picked over their fifteen to thirty-five year lifespan.

We invented the internet and cars and refrigerators, indoor plumbing and HVAC systems using our conscious minds. Very cool. But what are we humans missing out on by not tapping into our subconscious? 

"Trust your gut."

"The heart has reasons that reason doesn't know."

I've been practicing mediation for a year, and I find so helpful for staying calm in all kinds of situations. When I was struck with a fearful event a few months ago, my heart rate skyrocketed. Instead of doing my usual freak-out, I stopped and meditated for ten minutes. The short mental break gave me best use of my powers of reason and I could start problem solving. I didn't deny my worry or angst. Instead, I was able to deal with it. When I am not in crisis, mediation helps reduce my anxiety the next day. How do I know this? On days I don't meditate, the next day is usually freak-out city about things that aren't a big deal. Likewise, sometime meditation can uncover the bullshit in our lives, the unacceptable, the crazy, the toxic, the unfair. I've heard that meditation can sometimes trigger depression cycles. While that can be unpleasant, it can be a truth bomb that tells us we need to change, that the status quo cannot hold. I don't think that is a bad thing. Depression at times can be a messenger. Suppression of difficult emotions can only last so long before we explode. Or, we become so good at suppressing our feelings that we forget how to feel. If we can't feel pain, we can't feel joy. It is interesting how life works that way.

Why does meditation work? How does it work? I am guessing that at some level meditation allows our conscious mind to take break (like sleep, but different) and our subconscious mind can reconcile. 

What is prayer, then, and how does that work? I don't believe the usefulness of prayer to ask that UW beats Washington State in the Apple Cup. Instead, if we ask for direction, we are asking our subconscious to take over and help us solve the problem. I've been dipping into prayer lately. When I ask for guidance, insight will usually arrive in a few days. I might see new information that I didn't see before. My perspective might change so I can see things more clearly. Sometimes the direction is to talk to a friend, and listen to how they see things.

I accepted a new job in October. Before I did, I asked a friend if I should take it. He knew all about my job search, and we've talked extensively about my career. I thought he would ask me a bunch of questions about my goals and whatnot. Instead, he cut to the obvious: "Do you have another job lined up?" No. "Then take this one." Of course, nothing is so simple. He knew the job was a reasonable fit at a very good company. He had already ruled out reasons why I shouldn't take the job. He cut through the clutter, which I needed. His insights made what I thought was a tricky question simple. I knew instantly he was right. I didn't need to logic through it. My inner voice, subconscious, Higher Power, my gut, my heart, whatever, knew it was right without needing to get my brain involved. It felt right. I could feel it in my bones, I could feel it in my body, where my subconscious reigns.