I sit in my car and wait. My daughter is inside her teacher’s home having her oboe lesson. I hear the sounds of a small gas engine, likely a lawnmower. It drones in the background. The temperature, a pleasant 67 degrees. It is damp due to recent rain. On my lap is my trusty lap table. On that table is my iPad. I type.
Another Monday in my retirement. It started with me donning rain shoes, rain jacket, and umbrella. As usual, I walked to Starbucks. I was surprised to see Tom’s truck already in the lot, as I’m typically the first to arrive. He was inside drinking coffee and polishing off an unknown snack; probably a scone.
Donovan, the barista, poured my tall cup of Veranda as soon as he saw me enter. I grabbed it and sat down next to Tom and started our Monday review.
Tom didn’t go to the Blues Festival as he had wished, due to yesterday’s rain. I did go on my breakfast walk with Ralph, despite the rain. We checked an auto-posting problem for his website, talked about our kids, sipped our coffee. And so the conversation went. Tom asked me if I had time to go to Roselle with him and I did a quick calculation, as I needed to drive Grace to her lesson. A few adjustments were made, and off we went.
Back home I did a minor project, and now I sit waiting in the driver’s seat of my red Flex. I don’t like to be unproductive, which is why I brought my gear with me.
Sitting, typing, occasionally looking out the car’s windows to a slowly changing scene.
Now a senior man in bib overalls is mowing his grass directly across the street from me. The mower’s growl replacing the noise from the more distant one that droned earlier.
I seem content with my new found slower pace, but at the same time, I’m slightly restless. I continue to feel that I need to be doing more, accomplishing more, being more. This is countered by the reality that I am doing things, just not at the pace that I had originally set for myself. I grant myself forgiveness for the reduction in my output.
As I sit, I notice that I am feeling grateful, and I’m not sure why… let me think. Grateful for living in a good community, Grateful for friends and family. Grateful for my health. Grateful that I still have the wonder of a little boy inside of me.
My mind drifts again. What would it have been like if my grandparents had not immigrated from Slovakia? Likely, I would not exist. But what if I did? Limited education, limited opportunities, a limited life. I wonder if I would have made the best of it. It seems to be in my nature to view things in a positive way. I think that I would have been OK.
Some people think that they can fix their lives by being somewhere else. In some cases this is true, but in most cases, it is not. After all, we take ourselves with us wherever we go.
I drift again. I wonder what is in store for the rest of the day. I guess life is a box of chocolates. I’ll bite in and see what I get.
I arrived early at the Schaumburg Starbucks. I didn’t want to be late. I had corresponded with LilliRose for several weeks and had sent her my photo a few days earlier. I told her that I would be wearing a red ball cap for identification. I didn’t know what to expect, as she was my first interview
After a short time, I heard my name being called from behind me. “Mike Kuna?” I turned to see a beautiful 24-year-old with a bright smile. It was LilliRose, here is her story.
LilliRose grew up in Schaumburg, the oldest of two children. Early in her life she started to take dance and had a natural talent for it. She is creative and excelled not only at dance but also at acting. Although dedicated and intelligent, LilliRose had difficulties in school with reading and math. It was later determined that she had both dyslexia and dysgraphia. Her mother stepped in, helped her, and eventually, her reading ability improved. However, math continues to be a struggle for her.
LilliRose was active in school theatrics and was also involved with a musical theater production company during elementary and high school. Her acting skills caught the attention of a manager who told her, “You can act,” and for several years she tried out for a variety of parts that ranged from local TV commercials to LA productions. In school, she was active in Poms and maintained a “B” average despite her learning issues. On the surface, it would appear that she was leading a charmed life.
When LilliRose was ten, she discovered a lump on her inner thigh close to her groin. She is a private person and kept the bump to herself. Months later that her mother discovered it when she saw LilliRose in a bathing suit. Concerned, her mom took her to a dermatologist who told her that he didn’t know what the bump was. Other doctors and other treatments followed. The bump sometimes got bigger, sometimes smaller. None of the treatments helped.
It took about a year before a new doctor finally came up with the correct diagnosis, Hidradenitis Suppurativa (HS) a rare skin condition where the patient develops painful cysts, papules, and nodules in the groin, breasts, and armpits. Cysts can ooze malodorous pus. The disease is chronic, its cause unknown, treatment is limited, and there is no cure.
LilliRose tried to ignore her illness and to live her life as a typical teen. She went to school, dated, and was active in extracurricular activity. “I didn’t think about HS very much.” She held onto the false idea that one doctor told her, “You will outgrow this illness.”
She entered Columbia College as a dance major. However, after a year of schooling, she realized that she did not have the all-consuming passion necessary for a dance career. She is now on a hiatus from school and supports herself as a server.
Two years ago the bottom dropped out for LilliRose. Her lesions spread to her underarms, and this was devastating. “Before they were hidden, now everyone could see them.” She also became aware that her HS would not fade away with age. It was sobering for her to realize that she could be dealing with HS for the rest of her life. LillieRose fell into a deep depression.
“I ignored my HS before, but two years ago I faced it. I didn’t understand how I could deal with the sores and pain when I was younger and then couldn’t as an adult.” Things that she did in the past became difficult. She started to give up activities. “The pain can range from intense burning to bruise-like. Sometimes the searing pain will shoot down my leg. It can make it impossible to dance. Sometimes, I can’t even go to work.” Eventually, LilliRose sought help by attending an outpatient treatment program for anxiety and depression. “It was helpful, but I knew that it was not enough.”
One day she decided to move forward by taking a more active role in her life. She studied nutrition and discovered that certain foods made her condition worse. “I love french fries, but if I eat them I know, I’ll have a flare-up the next day.” She regularly went to the gym. She attended a meditation class. She started to learn things for the sake of learning. “I have a friend who is a forest ranger. We go walking, and he tells me the most amazing things about the forest.” She changed jobs, she made new friends, she read more. “I didn’t want to take medication for my depression. I prefer a more natural approach.”
LilliRose feels fortunate that she has very supportive parents and a wonderful and understanding boyfriend. Although she would like to feel even better, she has made progress dealing with her anxiety and depression.
Her HS has impacted her in a variety of ways, but not all of those ways are negative. It has made her acutely aware of other individuals who suffer from physical and emotional illness. She plans on going back to school next term, this time to study business. Her goal is to eventually open a center where people of all types of disability can gather. A place that will provide dance and art therapy. A place that will be a home for rescue animals who have nowhere else to go.”I have two dogs, and they are always there for me when I’m having a flare-up. Animals can be healing” The center will provide a welcoming place anyone who suffers from a disability. A place where they are accepted, understood, and helped.
Thank you LilliRose for talking to me.
If you have a story that you would like to tell, please contact me at SPAMmike_kuna@hotmail.com (remove the word SPAM in the email address).
The offer to me came earlier this year, and to Julie’s shock, I accepted it. The offer? Julie asked me if I wanted a birthday party to celebrate my 65th birthday. She has queried such options in the past, and I have always said no. But, dear reader, it is time for a change, and I am changing. With this said, my simple “Yes” was anything but easy for me to utter.
Why would it be so difficult for me to allow someone to celebrate such a special day? The answers go beyond the obvious, but many of these reasons will be familiar to those of you who have been reading my blog.
First, the obvious. I am an introvert and being the center of attention can be an exhausting experience.
Second, the more significant reason. My life has been a life of service, both professionally and personally. I have formed many of my relationships under the umbrella of things that I have done, or could do, for others. I think that this reality is not accidental. In part, I feel if you can help someone, you should. In part, providing a service to someone justifies the relationship. “Be my friend, and I will help you.” In part, it allows me to have a certain amount of control over the connection. Like most people, I am complex, as are my motivations to do things. Those motivations are neither good nor bad, they are.
Back to my birthday party…
My real fear of asking someone to do something for me is that they won’t do it. This is based on my childhood where that was my experience. I learned very early on that I had to rely on myself. I could not expect others to do things for me. Having to rely on myself made me angry, and I turned that anger into the fuel that drove me forward. As I have said in previous posts, “Take a disadvantage and turn it into an advantage.”
I became robust, resilient, and self-reliant. However, there is a flipside to this coin. There is a part of me that wants to be loved, cared for, nurtured, and celebrated for who I am, not what I do. This aspect of me is buried deep in my psyche and highly protected. However, part of my current efforts to grow beyond past limitations is to confront these needs and acknowledge them. Hence, “Sure throw me a party.”
My past strategy had been to never expect anything from anyone, but to fantasize that people in my life would be there, “If I needed them.” As a psychiatrist, I know the folly of such a fantasy. I have worked with many caregiving patients (often women) who have devoted themselves to others in selfless ways. They have selected individuals who were more than happy to be cared for. Sadly, when these caregiving individuals needed help in return, their relationship was nowhere to be found. Their connections signed up to receive full service, not to deliver a service. Naturally, this makes sense. However, even psychiatrists use psychological ploys to get through the daily experience that we call life.
Although my actual birthday was earlier this year, my celebration is scheduled for this weekend. I am stressed as this event draws a clear line defining my worth to those around me. My old tapes are playing. Instead of thinking that the people who care about me will be happy to celebrate with me, I think that they will be resentful and act out their feelings in one way or another. I have heard stories of people traveling to another state to celebrate a milestone with an old neighbor or a casual friend. This seems entirely normal for others, but not for me. Are my close connections willing to put themselves out a bit to celebrate with me? My rational self says yes, my inner child says, no. I guess I will know the truth in a few days.
To add to this drama, Julie has asked people to write a little note or letter to me which she will bind into a scrapbook. I want such records to pass onto my children and grandchildren. I don’t want to become an unknown image on an old photograph. I want to be a real person to my future lineage. I don’t think that this is grandiosity, I believe that it is based on my sense of mortality. Who are we if no one remembers that we ever existed? Here again, I fear that I’m burdening others. This reality will also be soon known.
Dear reader, thank you for following my story. We are all imperfect. My goal in life has always been to make a difference in the world, however small. I want to leave the earth a bit better, rather than a bit worse. Otherwise, why should I exist?
To move forward with my life, I have decided to be fearlessly honest with myself and those around me, including you. I may be 65, but I still am growing and evolving. I am traveling forward to a destination not yet apparent in the fog that is my future. However, I am starting to see vague shapes ahead, and my writing is one of the things that is allowing this clarity to happen.
Next Sunday is my birthday party; the day will come and go. It will be replaced by Monday. Will it justify my childhood fears? Will it support my objective reality? I guess I will have to wait and see. Either way, I will grow. Peace.
I accept the fact that I’m an introvert, but that acceptance wasn’t always the case. Before I understood this aspect of my personality, I used to be self-critical of my behavior. I would see people around me on the move. They would socialize with one group, and then another. They had 5 or 6 “best friends.” They would form “close” connections based on their personal monetary or career needs.
I would think to myself, “Why is it so hard for me to socialize in these ways? If I could be more like them I could…” I felt that there was something wrong with me.
I can’t recall the actual moment when I realized that I was an introvert, but I do remember that it was a great relief to understand why I behaved the way that I did. It was affirming to view this aspect of me as a positive trait; part of who I am.
With that said, there are times when introverts have to play the part of an extrovert, and I am able to put on a coat of sociability when necessary. However, since this isn’t my natural demeanor, it can be exhausting. Usually, I manage these energy expenditures carefully. An extroverted activity followed by some private time.
As I have written many times, I do like people, and I do enjoy interacting with them. However, I need my personal space to recharge. I am not energized by large groups; I am depleted. It is a rare day that I would deliberately schedule multiple social interactions. One of those rare days was yesterday.
At 1 PM I had a scheduled meeting with my pastor. I belong to a large non-denominational church, and I was meeting with its co-founder, Dave. I had set up a meeting with him weeks earlier. The meeting was based on my “leave no stone unturned” philosophy of life. Other than that, I wasn’t sure what I was expecting to happen at the meeting. I knew that in some abstract way I was trying to move forward on the “next aspect of my life” thing. Pastor Dave is a smart guy who takes charge of his world, but beyond that, I knew little about him.
The morning of the meeting met me with dread. “Why would he want to meet with me? He is too busy. I am using up his valuable time.” And so the tapes played. I understand the historical reasons for these thoughts, and I do not let them stop me. However, they are still distressing.
I returned home from my morning walk and briefly discussed my concerns with my wife, Julie. She was busy getting ready for the day, and I tried to respect her time limitations. I drove over to my friend Tom’s house and also voiced some of my fears to him. It is a good thing for me to share my irrational fears with people that I’m close. This is a relatively new behavior and a healthy one.
Soon it was time for me to go to the church and my anxiety returned full force. I reminded myself. “He is only going to spend 30 minutes with you. It is not that much of an imposition.”
One PM arrived, and I found myself seated in a medium sized room at a large round folding table. In walked Pastor Dave. I started to talk, not knowing what would come out of my mouth in the next second. I assumed that Dave did this sort of thing multiple times a day, but he told me that he was more involved with the vision of the church and that he enjoyed the chance to do something different.
Our conversation continued well past 30 minutes. At the hour point, his assistant stuck her head into the room to remind him “about that call that he needed to make.” I’m sure that this was the standard protocol when she sensed that a parishioner was taking up too much of the pastor’s time. I immediately started to grab my coat, but Dave put his hand up indicating that he wanted to continue to talk. He recommended a couple of books that might be helpful to me, and also suggested a life assessment that he found personally useful. Ninety minutes into the meeting we ended with a prayer. I didn’t feel like I wasted his time, it was a nice feeling.
Shortly after I arrived home, I drove my daughter, Grace, to a meeting. In my mind, I imagined returning back home. I would take a long shower and put on some loungewear. I would immerse myself in a project and I would consider having a glass of wine. Then, the reality hit me. I had signed up for a MeetUp group on WordPress, and it was running from 6 PM to 9 PM that evening.
Part of me wanted to bail out of the meeting, but I also wanted to go. Fears crept back in as I imagined that I would sit in a room of WordPress experts. Would I be wasting their time? Would I look foolish or stupid? I had only been learning the software for about a month and felt very much a newbie. Dear reader, I will not allow my fears to determine who I am. I put on my coat, plugged in the coordinates into my phones GPS, and drove to the meeting.
I found myself in a classroom with about 40 other people. Time to put on my extrovert cloak. With a smile on my face, I introduced myself to the three people seated around me. Soon we were engaged in a nice conversation. The formal part of the meeting consisted of a speaker talking about a major revision that was about to take place on the WordPress platform. To my surprise, I understood what he was talking about and could see the implications of the upcoming changes. There were groups members who knew more than I did, but it seemed that I knew more than some others. The meeting ended, and I said my goodbyes to my new acquaintances. I was happy that I went.
In total exhaustion, I returned home. Julie was reading a book in our bedroom, but wanted an update on my day, especially on my meeting with the pastor. I briefed her as best as I could. It was then time for my long-awaited shower. Extra hot, extra sudsy. I let the water run on my back as it relaxed my tense neck and shoulders. The day was over.
Dear reader, we are who we are. I believe that we all have strengths and weaknesses. I accept the fact that I am an introvert, and I have used this knowledge as an advantage, rather than considering it a disadvantage. I am a great independent learner, I am never bored, I come up with wonderful ideas when I am by myself.
However, there are times when I need to reach beyond my introverted self if I wish to move forward. Sometimes the uncomfortable option is the right option. Some actions can be hard, but worthwhile. I feel that for me it is important to respect my personality, but still challenge it with reasonable risk-taking.
If we are unhappy, it is easy to blame our unhappiness on circumstances or other people. However, it is our responsibility to make any change. We can’t expect others to usurp that responsibility. I encourage you to gently step outside your comfort zone today and gain a little more control over your life. Who knows where it will lead you.
Dear reader, I believe that everything we do in some ways connects to other aspects of who we are. We show our true selves in our everyday actions. Things that seem unrelated are often related if you look closely enough.
In this post, I explore how the process of building web pages has also taught me about how I relate to people. This is less of a stretch than you may think. Let’s start…
My adventure in creating websites started around 15 years ago and was directed more by need than want. In those days I was a partner/owner of a medium sized psychiatric practice. With my two partners, I had built the practice into a thriving enterprise.
Most of our business was generated from former clients and referring professionals. However, we knew that we needed a website, as it was becoming a common instrument that new clients used to find their next care provider.
I come from a blue-collar background, which inherently makes me a do-it-yourselfer and cost-conscious. I was already heavily invested in creating marketing and advertising materials for the practice and had been doing everything from brochure design (remember paper?) to head shots of the staff.
It was only logical that I build the website. To hire someone to design even a simple one would have cost thousands of dollars, as well as countless hours of committee work to write copy, and approve design concepts. I felt that I had the potential to do the necessary tasks: photography, copy creation, design, deployment. However, there was a problem, I had never designed a webpage, I had never taken a computer course, and I had never written a single line of HTML. In hindsight building a complex website was an insane thought. People spend years learning this stuff. What was I thinking?
Naturally, it was a massive project that was complicated by the fact that I had to learn everything on the fly. Initially, I tried to go the easy route by using the hosting company’s template-based web designer. I wrote two entire versions of the clinic website with that program, but it just couldn’t handle a site as complex as the one the I envisioned. I recall spending an entire Saturday trying to upload a few more pages to the site, only to have it repeatedly crash. Finally, I realized that I would have to go beyond the limitations of this easy software and use something more sophisticated. That moment was sickening to me, as it meant that not only would I have to learn an entirely new software package, but I would have to recreate every single page of the website again.
This process was occuring in my almost non-existent “spare time.” I created extra working time by removing needed sleeping time. I know my partners had no idea of the hours that I put in. They assumed that I was able to build a site during my lunch break. For months most of my evenings and weekends were spent staring at a computer screen. Sure, my lack of knowledge made easy things more difficult, but there was also the reality that I was wearing all of the creative hats. It was overwhelming.
The more sophisticated software that I settled on was from a British company called Serif. It was graphically based and similar to the page layout programs that I had used for paper publications. The familiarity offered me a small degree of confidence. However, building an interactive multimedia website is very different from placing photos and print on a physical page.
Eventually, I got the hang of it and created seven redesigns of the clinic site over ten years. It wasn’t too long before friends started to ask me if I could help their small businesses and build a website for them. This is how I became a web designer/content creator.
In 2015 my friend, Tom, asked me if I would write some copy for his small business website. He had paid someone to do the total creation of the site, and he wasn’t pleased with it. “I don’t think that the website represents me very well.” He told me. “Sure,” I said. I was eager to repay a favor that he had recently done for me.
Tom is a smart and creative guy who has a sense of style. Initially, I thought that he was overly critical of his site. I assumed that a professional would know all of the tricks to creating a visually appealing and engaging experience. It was then that I looked at the web pages. His site was an example of “you don’t always get when you pay for.” Cluttered, poorly written, lousy clipart, encyclopedia length boring content that was likely copied from elsewhere. It was not good.
“Tom, why don’t you let me build a new site for you?” The words came out of my mouth without thought. “I can’t let you do that, I don’t want to take advantage of you,” Tom replied. Suddenly, I found myself convincing him that it was OK, and a good idea.
Like most projects, it was much more complicated and time-consuming than I initially thought. Despite being a lot of work, it was fun and I felt good helping my friend. I was proud of the way the new website turned out. Simple, clean, beautiful!
Fast forward to 2018. Tom had been doing some marketing research and decided that his site would be more searchable if it was created using the WordPress PHP format instead of the simple HTML of the site that I wrote. He even found someone willing to port my created content to a shiny new WordPress site. So, what did I do? I took a look at the prototype site and saw a different vision. Once again I was asking my friend if he would mind if I would make some “adjustments.” Some of this may be grandiosity, some reality. I know Tom very well, and I have some understanding of his business. Two pieces of knowledge that his WordPress colleague didn’t possess.
Dear reader, you are reading this post on my WordPress blog site that I created several years ago. It was a straightforward creation that involved a few mouse clicks. I set it up with no knowledge of WordPress in about 30 minutes. On the other hand, Tom’s site is a very complicated bonafide website that is loaded with all sorts of content. I was telling him that I could improve his site and I didn’t even know how to modify a single page in WordPress. Why do I do such crazy things?
As you know by now when I don’t understand my behavior I ponder and try to figure it out. This is what I came up with:
I love learning new things, and I love intellectual challenges. Despite being slow going, there is a genuine thrill when I figure out even a small aspect of a new puzzle. Knowledge is my cocaine.
I have pride issues. I put a lot of energy and effort creating content for his original website. I want my work in a setting that adds to it and doesn’t detract from it.
I show that I care about someone by doing things for them. Talk is cheap. Actions speak louder than words.
I want to justify Tom’s friendship with me. I want to give him a good “return” on his investment in our connection. This realization was a surprise. In reality, I know that Tom connects with me as much for my imperfections as my strengths. I don’t need to prove my value to him, and I honestly feel that he would like me just as much if all we did was to hang out with each other. In fact, Tom is also a helper who is more comfortable taking care of, rather than being taken care of.
This need to be valuable to my friend stems back to a time in my life when I felt that I had little value. The, “I am not worth anything,” part of my life. This likely is also a reason why I did all of the extra work for my former clinic. It was a way to prove that I was worthy of my fellow doctor’s time and attention.
I am a protector. I have a strong maternal side to my personality. When I feel close to someone, I am constantly trying to make sure that they are safe and that their needs are met. I can guarantee that my friend does not need my protection. He is physically stronger than I am and has survived most of his life without my sage interventions. Luckily, Tom seems to understand my motives and tolerates my actions. He is happiest when his business is thriving. I want to make sure that his website does as much as it can do to help his business thrive. For whatever reason, I think I hold the key to making his website the best that it can be.
Conversely, my protective trait drives an immediate family member crazy. They view it as me trying to control them. In reality, I’m just trying to make sure that they have everything that they need. However, I do understand their annoyance, and I have tried to modify my behavior.
These are some of the reasons that I came up with, but that is enough writing for today. Hopefully, this post will get you thinking about how the unrelated parts of your life that are actually related to each other. Connect the dots and learn just a little bit more about yourself! Have a great day.
This week I made a change of monumental personal proportions. With that said, it was long overdue and probably would seem insignificant to anyone under 40. What did I do? I got rid of my landline phone.
When I was growing up a hardwired phone was considered essential, and it was an expensive essential at that. My home had a single, black rotary phone. Borning in its simple functionality. In those days phones were controlled by the powerful AT&T, which was essentially a monopoly.
Calling outside a limited “zone” meant an upcharge. Calling long distance was extremely expensive. Add-ons to your phone had to be purchased from AT&T at exorbitant prices. No mere mortal could afford an answering machine.
By the 1970s AT&T was forced to loosen its grip. Third party companies were allowed (by law) to connect with AT&T phone lines, and suddenly there was a tsunami of designer phones, answering machines, and other telephonic gadgets at reasonable costs. Ma Bell still had a stranglehold on infrastructure and charged accordingly. Long distance calls were still only made on very special occasions in my household; every second measured with no calls to exceed 10 minutes.
This all changed with the advent of the cellphone. My first one was a Panasonic box phone. I purchased it for almost $2000 in 1987; I was charged ten cents for every minute of airtime. The Panasonic was the size of a cigar box and had a separate handset that pulled out from the case. It had a giant gel type battery to power its circuitry, and the combination weighed so much that I had to use a shoulder strap to carry it. Even so, it was a miraculous invention, so amazing that people would stop me on the street and ask me what it was. “Can you make phone calls from that?” They would ask in awe and amazement.
Fast forward a decade, and what was novel became commonplace. Almost everyone had a cellphone. Fast forward another ten years and the world was introduced to the first iPhone. The iPhone not only changed an industry, but it also changed our culture. It was the first “smartphone” designed for people, not businesses. It was cool. It was a status symbol. Everyone wanted one.
Smartphones are now commonplace. Common with the affluent suburbanites where I live. Common with the poor folks that I treat in Rockford. Common in third world countries where it is more usual to have a cell phone than hot running water. Now that most people have their own “personal communication device,” the once-essential landline has become a dinosaur technology.
When I was active in my private practice, I kept the landline as an emergency backup. Our hardwired phone had multiple extensions in my home. I didn’t have to have my cell phone velcroed to my hip at all times as my answering service was instructed to ring the house phone at night. The landline also served as a central hub. The place where we would get reminders of doctor’s visits. The place where banks would call if they suspected fraudulent activity on our credit cards. The place where we would get our robo calls from our kid’s school when there was a snow day.
Every month I paid for the phone and the extra, but necessary services. Extra cost for voicemail, and the increasingly important caller ID.
Over the years our phone calls changed. The majority of the real calls came to us by our cell phones, but that didn’t stop our landline from being used. There was an endless number of calls from sellers, politicians, charities, and random spoofed numbers that implied that they were coming from down the block, rather than across the world. These nuisance calls become ever more prevalent, and ever more aggressive. If I didn’t pick up a call, the caller would call again and again. Calls during dinner time, calls late at night, calls early in the morning. Some telemarketers became so aggressive that I elected to spend over a hundred dollars to buy a “call blocker,” a device designed to intercept unwanted calls and hang up on them.
The landline had gone from necessary, to a backup, to an annoyance. It was time to go.
I retired at the end of 2017, and I planned to do a technology purging by the end of January 2018. Not only was I going to get rid of the landline, but also my cable TV, and my unreliable internet service.
January came and went, as did February. I wondered what was holding me back from making a simple cancellation call. As with most personal roadblocks, I started to explore what was going on.
Part of the problem centered on the fact that I had had a regular phone for so long that on a subconscious level it did seem like a necessity, even though I knew that this was no longer the case. Part of the problem centered on the fact that eliminating the landline would be an indicator that my private practice was over. Part of the problem was my fear that I would make a mistake. Since our phone, internet, and cable were all from the same provider, a mistake would leave us disconnected and technologically dead in the water. This last point resonated true. It was the main reason that I was not pulling the plug. Now that I knew what was stopping me, it was time to come up with a solution.
The solution was simple. Instead of starting one provider and ending another in a precision one-two punch, I would allow for an overlap. I would only cancel my old services once my new internet connection was in place and working to my satisfaction.
I know that this sounds obvious, but I had been thinking rigidly, and I assumed that my lack of action was because of laziness. I had to understand the “why,” before I could come up with the “how.”
You may ask why I’m writing about a utility cancellation. Like most things that I write about, there is a broader reason. How often do we get stuck continuing to do things that are not in our best interest? How often do we get stuck not making a change, when doing so would make our lives better? Could there be reasons for our actions that go beyond laziness? Have we thought about alternative way to think about a solution? Have we considered asking someone trusted if they had any thoughts on a solution? My phone issue illustrates that a little time and flexibility can sometimes turn the impossible into the possible. The same process applies to a bad relationship, a terrible job, or damaging behavior.
So often it is the little things in life that make the biggest difference. Small annoyances are like dealing with a cloud of gnats. Singularly, they have little impact. Cumulatively, they can bring us down.
Time is thought to be constant. Something that in a Newtonian world does not vary. On my kitchen wall is an Atomic clock, so named because it has a radio receiver that listens to WWV in Fort Collins, Colorado. That transmission consists of a signal which is synchronized precisely to the atomic clock that resides there. An instrument so precise that it measures time by the electromagnetic radiation emitted as electrons move from one energy level to another. Science and technology rely on this precision. If time were not constant, our lives would be in chaos. Global travel would be impossible; cell phones would brick, Scientific research would be meaningless, nuclear reactors would melt down. However, it seems that time is not constant for me.
I worked seven days a week as a medical student. When I rotated through senior medicine, I was fortunate that my teaching resident liked me. During the twelve week rotation, she thoughtfully gave me a Saturday off. I was overcome with appreciation. This would mean that I would have Friday night off, and could sleep in Saturday morning if I wished. I would also have all of Saturday to do whatever I wanted to do. It was like receiving a Christmas present in August.
Early in my professional career I worked multiple jobs, which included a busy private practice. I was on call seven days a week for my patients, and I never knew when my pager would go off. It was hard to go into noisy places because it would be difficult to take a call on my cigar box sized cell phone. I couldn’t have a single beer. I slept very lightly. On occasion, I would get someone to cover for me. This would give me an entire weekend to do with as I pleased. I could travel beyond my pagers range. I could leave my 7-pound phone behind. More Christmas presents for sure. However, it didn’t seem three times bigger then the single day I got as a medical student.
My career continued, and it became easier to have slices of open time. I learned how to manage my patients, and they rarely called on weekends. They knew that I was good about returning their calls during the week, and so they didn’t panic. I was respectful of their needs, and so they were respectful of mine. My phones shrank in size and weight. I no longer carried a pager. More freedom, more time. But the ratio of time to extracurricular activity did not grow proportionally.
I now work three days a week, giving me a four day weekend 52 weeks out of the year. This four day weekend my family went to Minnesota, leaving me behind. Completely free of any obligation, my opportunities were endless. How would I fill all of those days? I quickly came up with a todo list in my head. There would be some practical projects and household tasks. I would do some socializing. I would take myself out to eat. I would go to a couple of movies. I might even travel to the country for a day trip. There were many things to do, but I had four days all to myself. At the start of the weekend, my time seemed endless.
The days came and went. I did do a few practical projects, but not all of them. I did socialize some, but not to the extent that I would have liked. I did take myself out to eat, but it was at McDonald’s. I did watch a single movie, but it was over two days and on Netflix. I did travel into the country, but only to keep my friend Tom company on a business call. There were other things on my list, but I just never got around to do them.
It was as if time shrank. I would wake up and do a few things; then it was time to go to bed. The cycle would repeat, and then the weekend was over. Dear reader, I had a perfectly lovely weekend, but it seemed like the activities that usually would fill one day had expanded into four. It was almost as if time had shortened, or perhaps my activities expanded. I see this trend in other areas of my life. I am doing the things that I said that I would do. But the quantity and frequency of those activities have dramatically shrunk. It is so easy to fill my time with a conversation, or a walk, or some meditation. I am not complaining, as I think this is a natural progression as one goes from a more structured to a less structured life. However, I find it interesting.
I could come up with a rigid schedule. I could have my phone beep commands to keep me on target. I could use an accountability partner. With that said, there is something to learn from a reduction of traditionally productive activity. A growth that comes in gentle breezes of learning that are interspersed with fewer planned experiences.
Does time shrink? Does it evaporate? It doesn’t appear to be constant in my real world. I accept that fact, but I am unsure of its significance. Sometimes not knowing is OK.
Twenty Characteristics Of A Good Relationship: Acceptance.
I want what I want when I want it, and I live in a world where that is possible. Eat a steak at 3 AM? Sure, there is a 24-hour restaurant nearby. Buy a pair of shoes on a Sunday evening? No problem, I can even order them from my iPhone. Watch a TV show that I missed? Easy, I’ll just stream it from my smart TV.
I live in an instant gratification world, and so it is easy to think that my wish is everyone’s command. Living in such a self-absorbed space can make me feel special, but it can also make me insensitive to the needs of others. In such an on-demand world it isn’t difficult to imagine that my relationships are also supposed to give me what I want when I want it.
Naturally, I should choose good relationships that I am compatible. However, a relationship involves two individuals, not one. The second party also has needs and wants, and some of those may be contrary to my wishes.When deciding on forming a relationship, it is crucial for me to be willing to accept the person, “as is.” It is not their responsibility to become a chameleon for me.
With that said, a good relationship can involve compromise and change. If I care about someone, I should be willing to alter my behavior as long as that change isn’t contrary to my beliefs or my sense of self. The same is correct about my relationship. I have the right to tell my relationship when something is bothering me about their actions or behaviors. However, they are the ones to decide if they are willing to change their actions, not me.
I realize that unrealistic or one-sided expectations can foretell the demise of my relationships. I need to avoid the “This person is great, but they will need to change (fill in the blank) if they are to going to have a relationship with me,” scenario. Likewise, I will not form a relationship with someone with the idea that I will “fix” them. I know that when I accept my relationships for who they are, we both will be happier. However, I do have a right to be treated as an equal, and my feelings do matter.
I understand that many relationships end because one party demands that the other change in ways that they are not ready or able to change. I also understand that poor relationships can continue to worsen because the participants are unwilling to alter their behaviors when doing so would be beneficial to them and their relationship.
I have to accept that I can only control my actions in a relationship. At times individual needs will not allow us to move our relationship forward. Because of this some of my relationships will end. I accept that not all relationships will last forever. However, by being rationally accepting and not being overly critical of my relationship, I am likely to be rewarded by the benefits that such a connection yields.
A good relationship respects the needs of both parties.
What is on your bucket list? Going skydiving? Attending baseball games at all of the major stadiums? Buying a BMW M6? I have a bucket list too, and I am in the process of tackling one of my items. My list has some fun goals on it, but it also has some things that I need to do for other reasons. So what am I tackling? Cleaning out my spice cabinet, of course!
Dear reader, as I type this, I imagine you yawning as you click off this post, but I am who I am. In our house, the spice cabinet occupies an entire three shelf kitchen cabinet. For years it has been so full that finding the most common item can require digging through its entire contents.
The cabinet serves as a repository of general baking items, such as baking powder and vanilla. It has specialty items, like my wife’s ever-growing collection of cookie sprinkles. It has cooking items, like bouillon. And of course, it has lots and lots of spices.
The last sentence may make you think that we are exotic gourmet cooks. This is not the case. Like many, we buy an unusual spice to try out a recipe and then keep it. Our cabinet has Chinese, Indian, and Cajun spices with names that I can’t even pronounce. We also have the usual spices: oregano, bay leaves, paprika, basil, thyme, cinnamon, that we use often.
The cabinet is jammed packed, and I have wanted to clean it out for years, but the thought of doing the job was overwhelming. Instead, I would waste time digging through unneeded items to find those common spices that I did need. I would rebuy spices that we had because I couldn’t locate them in the cabinet. The cabinet was so full that a little jostling would send these bottles to their death. It was common to have a bottle fall and shatter on the kitchen countertop when I went spice hunting, creating an unnecessary and sometimes dangerous mess.
Yesterday I decided that enough was enough and I started the process of cleaning, eliminating and restocking. Various jars and bottles completely covered my kitchen countertops. I sorted through them. Long expired spices went into the garbage, as did those spices that we used once and are likely never to be used again. I asked my wife if she wanted to participate in the cleanup. She said no, and I couldn’t blame her. Her refusal has exonerated me from any future blame if I accidentally tossed out an item that she would have kept.
Today I’ll line the cabinet with shelf paper, and restock it with the saved items. Cleaning a spice cabinet is like many life tasks. At some point, I’ll have to do it all over again.
Dear reader, if you have been following my blog, you likely realize that I find life lessons in just about everything. As humans, our responses are limited and routine. We tend to practice the same behaviors in many of our actions, whether it is in our lack of attention to a spice cabinet, or lack of attention to our lives, goals, and relationships.
These are the lessons that I learned from my spice cabinet cleaning:
Just like bottles of unused spices, it is easy to let unimportant things clutter up my life.
Keeping “brain clutter” around increases my chance of not paying attention to things that I do need to pay attention to. The result is that unnecessary problems can come crashing down on me.
It is OK to give up those things that are not important to me, even if they would be considered important to someone else.
Sometimes I have to do the real work of cleaning this stuff out of my life, even if I don’t want to.
Doing this necessary work doesn’t have to be pleasant. Necessary does not mean pleasant. Necessary means necessary.
When indicated, I need to include the feelings and needs of those around me when making such decisions. However, my needs also count.
This is not a one and done process, and I will need to repeat it once my life-clutter builds again.
If I do regular check-ins with myself, I will be able to deal with my life-clutter sooner. The task will become more routine, it will be easier to accomplish, and I will become more efficient at accomplishing it.
Just like spices, having a little variability and uncertainty adds interest to my life. However, just like spices, too much ruins it.
Wishing you a clean spice cabinet, and just enough spice to make your life interesting!
