A Series of Fortunate Events

At first, it felt like a series of unfortunate events...

When my wife Amy came back a few minutes after she had just left, I knew something was wrong with the car. 

She came back inside the house and said, "There's a bolt in the front tire."

"F-ck," I said. 

"Can you contact the Hyundai roadside assistance?" Amy asked me. 

"Yes, I will. We have the worst frickin' tire luck in the world," I said.

"I know, but at least the car maintenance is fully covered," she said. 

"We'll still have to have it towed to the dealer, though. F-ck."

This was only three months into having our new car. It's like every six months we're dealing with a screw or bolt or nail in our tires. 

Like everything that happens in adulting world that we can't put off and have to take care of, it can be a life-drag momentary buzzkill. "It's only time and money" Amy and I joke when these things happen. Time and money. And sometimes the money might not always be there, but there's sure as hell always time. Time you can never get back.

Then came the news of my sister in ICU battling recurring health problems. So, the day after the tire was fixed, we drove four hours to see how we could help my niece and nephew and their mom. 

While we were gone, we got a call from our oldest Beatrice that there were ants all over our kitchen. We coached her on cleanup and she did the best she could. There wasn't anything else we could do until we were home again. 

After returning home, we assessed ant situation and saw that our neighbors had an exterminator over because they also had an ant infestation. So, Amy called the exterminator and they came over to our house to spray. This was during our morning workout, which was frustrating to me, because that's important time for me, both physically and mentally, but I knew we had to take care of it. Blessings to my wife for managing that. 

Then we had our handyman come over to replace the faucet mixer valves on our shower and bath. We didn't have all the right parts at first, so that delayed the fixing. Once we did have all the parts, the shower went fine, but the bathtub faucet did not. No matter what he did, there was no hot water, and it wouldn't stop leaking out of the faucet. He finally got the hot water adjusted, but it still wouldn't stop leaking, and now we have to call a plumber. Amy had been researching it to see if we could fix it ourselves, but I knew if I touched it, there would've been a horizontal geyser drenching us both.

During this week of continuous un-fun things, I attended a work conference in Las Vegas for a few days. I enjoyed the time with my team, seeing old industry friends, and some yummy meals, but it was a lonely drag being away from my wife and kids. I felt overwhelmed by it all because I was also woefully behind on work research reports, and the conference time increased that distance further. I kept checking in on my sister who was stable and out of ICU but still not well. Plus, the wifi in my room didn't work well, and the hotspot on my phone didn't work at all, so I had to sit in the food court of the casino hotel with pop music playing too loudly around me to get some work done. All the while the divided world outside burned.

Used to be that when life got overwhelming for me, my anxiety would bind my mind with barbed wire, and my heart would sink to the bottom of the sea. I'd get depressed and completely check out from everyone around me. But over the years I've learned to better adapt, stay centered (somewhat) no matter how askew, and keep going. That doesn't stop me from being grump-fussy; I rail at the universe and let it know I will persevere. Amy helps me with that along the way as well (even when I'm grump-fussy with her). Our meditation practice has helped a lot, too. And if the universe is God, and God is the universe, blessings to us all.

What felt like a string of unfortunate things ultimately became a series of fortunate events. Ones that included seeing family we don't see that often. Ones that included seeing colleagues I don't see that often. Ones that included hearing our youngest Bryce's solo audition video for choir while I was away at the conference. Ones that included talking about what colleges to attend with Beatrice after I got back. Ones that include petting our purring cat first thing in the morning then walking our dog. Ones that included a wonderful mountain hike with Amy to reflect and decompress from the bumpy week we had just had. 

Ones that included having a celebratory dinner for your daughter's 17th birthday. Time and money got nothing on these things. Fortunate indeed. 

Listening with Empathy and Love

40 years ago I was a mental mess. I had finished high school and graduated, but had trashed my stellar GPA the last semester. I remember barely keeping it together as I pushed my best friend into the stadium for our graduation ceremony. He had broken his neck our senior year; I had broken my spirit. It was still a special moment, but a painfully bittersweet one.

Thankfully I was only just beginning to talk about how I felt, even if I didn't fully understand what was going on with my mental health. I was over a decade away from the grateful and mindful path I'm still on today, but at least it was a start. Childhood trauma combine continuous self-imposed pressure to succeed in school led to crippling social anxiety and panic attacks for me my last year and a half of high school. Once I could finally talk about it with friends, my family, a caring high school counselor -- it helped, but the damage at the time had been done. Suicidal thoughts crept their way in at times, but I knew in my heart life would be different someday. 

And it is. Us Gen X kids may have been tougher and survivors growing up (at least it makes a great social media meme), but some of us had our share of mental and emotional train wrecks along the way. Now, with Gen Z teens, my wife Amy and I have been riding the parental roller coaster, again, of teen anxiety. Anyone with teens today knows what I'm taking about. 

Depression, anxiety and behavioural disorders are among the leading causes of illness and disability among adolescents. Ugh.

Teen anxiety may be a common crappy rite of passage, but one difference for our kids than for me at that age was earlier self-awareness, more accessible empathy (from within and from others), and the ability to articulate how they feel. Listening to your kids without judgement, and/or without trying to always solve their problems or telling them to toughen up and deal with whatever it is they're dealing with, is super critical. Encouraging hobbies, sports, theater, music, and physical activities can help, too. 

Sure, I grew up riding in the back of pickup trucks with nothing strapping me in (literally and figuratively). I also literally fell out of the back of one of those trucks when I was 16. Good times. 

Our kids will go through what they go through, have their own bittersweet journeys just like we did. But there should never be any stigma in listening with empathy and love and giving them the resources and support they need to learn how to adapt and thrive in life. And parents need a lot of that empathy and love, too. 

I'm the Luckiest

I flung my paper airplane over the balcony and watched as it made a two-foot circle and landed near my feet. The people in the seats near me laughed and clapped their hands. Someone said, "Go on, try again -- you can get the trajectory right." 

I smiled, shook my head, and returned to my seat next to my wife Amy. I asked her if she saw my epic fail, and she laughed and nodded. To be fair to me, I knew my paper airplane didn't have a chance to make to make it to the stage. Not because it was too far away; there were others throwing from the balcony who made it. I just forgot how to make my paper airplane more streamlined. Mine was riddled with mis-folds and a mistrust from the beginning that it wouldn't fly very far. And it didn't.

It was a fun date night for Amy and I, though. We went to see the Ben Folds, a singer-songwriter, amazing pianist, and alt-rock legend from the 1990's. He's one of my favorites and we were not disappointed. It was just him and a piano, no band. This was his Paper Airplane Request Tour, meaning, during the second half of the show, you could write requests on a piece of paper, fold it into a paper airplane, and try to get it to fly onto the stage. He would then pick them up randomly and decide to play the request or not. 

But through all the great music, something bothered me. Something that had happened earlier in the week. There was a teenage boy who attended our daughter Beatrice's high school who had committed suicide. He was a junior and a football player, but other than that, we didn't know him or his family. It was still so sad. We talked about it at dinner with both our kids, of course reminding them that they could always talk with us about anything. 

The next day at school Beatrice told us that the boy's suicide impacted many of the students and the teachers alike. She said it was a somber day and was glad to be home for the weekend. I told both Beatrice and her sister Bryce that I had a good friend take his own life the year after I finished high school. It was the first funeral I had ever attended and I was one of the pallbearers, too. That part I didn't tell them, only because it was sad enough discussing suicide with our teens. 

One in five high school students seriously considered attempting suicide in 2023, according to data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC). We feel like we have open and solid relationships with our teens, but it's something we think about when our kids struggle with anxiety and stress. Something I didn't tell my kids yet is that I was that junior high school student once who was dealing with a lot of anxiety and overwhelming existential darkness that I didn't understand at the time. Suicide was an alternative that crossed my mind.

Luckily, I didn't end my life, even though luck didn't have much to do with it. Deep down I knew I wanted to live, but it would take a lot more anxiety, flailing introspection, poor choices, help from others, and over a decade later to get it all together. By my early 30's the trajectory of my life had already changed dramatically, and after I met Amy, I continued to heal mentally and spiritually. There were still up and downs, but finally more ups than downs. Ups I manifested and were grateful for.

Which brings me back to seeing Ben Folds with Amy. One of the songs he played is called "Still Fighting It" and it's about having children and all the things you go through again with them that you experienced growing up. That one always makes me tear up about our own children now, and my heart ached again for the family whose high school son committed suicide last week. Blessings to him and to them. 

The song I wrote down on the paper that I turned into an ill-fated paper airplane was "The Luckiest" -- one of my favorite songs from Ben Folds and one that reminds me of my relationship with Amy. My paper airplane didn't make it to the stage, but luckily that was the next song he played. I was grateful to be there in that moment with my wife, just as I'm grateful to be present in every moment possible with our children, going through all the things with them that we went through when we were their age. 

I'm not sure I've ever believed in luck, but I do know that I'm the luckiest. 

"...And where was I before the day
That I first saw your lovely face?
Now I see it everyday
And I know..."

The ROI Of Family Bonding And Love

"...Sometimes the light's all shinin' on me
Other times I can barely see
Lately it occurs to me
What a long, strange trip it's been..."

Grateful Dead, Truckin'

And just like that, our travel trailer was gone. Not stolen or in an accident. Simply sold to a wonderful retired couple with grandchildren, four years after we had bought it. 

We didn't sell it because we had to. We just weren't using it as much as we thought we would. It was a pandemic buy and it opened up a lot of travel options we had during the summer of 2020 and beyond. And we had no friggin' idea what we were doing. My parents had a truck camper, then a boat, then a motorhome, but I never had to take care of them and/or tow and/or drive them. 

In July of 2020, we wrapped up the paperwork at the dealer, hooked up the rig, and towed our new travel trailer for the first time. Again, no friggin' idea what we were doing. I was scared to death. My wife Amy was nervous, too, but as always, assured me we could do it. 

And we did. I could also back that thing up like a champ, too. It wasn't without a big learning curve and almost breaking lots of things, though. Thankfully we never really broke anything exactly, only slightly damaged some things. I backed our SUV into the trailer hitch that left a dent, one that remains today. Early on with the travel trailer we used it as a safe haven at a campground out of town when the CZU August Lightning Complex fires came within three miles of where we live and the smoke and ash were horrible. We then had to deal with our home security alarm going off when we were gone with me thinking that we were being looted (which we weren't after I drove all the way back to our house in the early morning to check). 

We connected the batteries incorrectly on one trip and nearly fried them. We woke up on another trip with a flat tire on the travel trailer that turned into a bit of a fiasco, although we got home okay. And on that same trip, my kids and I dealt with bullies in a McDonald's. On another trip, we thought our SUV was on fire that began a cascading stress-mess with an anti-climatic ending. 

Even with all of that, in a short period of time we had many great adventures, including an amazing two-week Southwest road trip, a couple of trips Oregon where one of Amy's uncles lives (and who helped us a lot with our travel trailer learning curve!), a trip to Joshua Tree, trips to the Columbia in Sonora, trips down the central coast to Paso Robles and Avila Beach, trips to see my family in the Central Valley (KOA campgrounds are great especially when there's a pool!), and a few others. And through it all I took care of my family's poop.

Our kids are now teens, and the last few times we went on a trip in the trailer camper, they didn't like it. Hated it, actually. Not the parts we did outside of the travel trailer, just the staying in the camper and the sleeping parts. Our dog Jenny always disliked going with us in the travel trailer, too. It always stressed her out and we had to crate her in the camper when we went places that didn't allow dogs. 

Amy and I had aspirational ideas about what we'd do with our travel trailer in the years after we bought it. When we first got it, we were ready to go, and we had plans to travel in it together when the kids were old enough to stay by themselves, and eventually when they were out of the house. I think that, like in the beginning as a pandemic buy, we romanticized what it would be like to travel in our camper. 

But in the past year it's not how we've traveled, and won't be in the foreseeable future. We hated the camper sitting in storage and not being used. Because what happens when things sit and aren't being used? They breakdown and fall apart. And we didn't want that to happen, so we sold it to some very nice people who will take good care of it. 

We did have amazing adventures, though, and we made miles of special memories. We saw so many beautiful landscapes and met some wonderful people. We also learned a lot about travel trailers, towing, how your mileage sucks when you're towing, and how easy it is to almost break stuff. However, the biggest lesson of all was also the greatest return on our investment. The ROI of family bonding and love.

 

Sweet And Sour Nothings

No spoilers, but mercy me I cried, and I laughed, and I cried some more. That's not unusual or hard for me; I'm certainly a crier (and I like to laugh). For Father's Day weekend last week, we all went to see Inside Out 2. Perfect movie to see with your teens, by the way. It's not a dark snarky mess like most shows and movies targeting teens today. If you and your kids liked the first one, you should like this one, too. Especially if your kids are teens now. 

Again, I won't give anything away that hasn't already been in the previews. New emotions are introduced including Anxiety. Once Anxiety takes over, then all bets are off for the main character Riley and all her other emotions. 

That's what got me the most. That once we hit adolescence and our pre-frontal cortex, hormones, and more enhanced levels of awareness come online, anxiety is right behind them whispering sweet and sour nothings into our ears. I had more than enough of that when I was a teenager (into young adulthood) and don't wish it on anyone. Our children have had their share of adolescent angst as well and that's always hard to see. 

With all the love and support we've given our children since they were born, it's hard to watch them struggle with their own anxieties at times. My wife Amy and I remind each other that they are teens; it's normal developmentally. As I wrote a few weeks ago after attending some local graduation as a school board member, I remember how our kids (and many others) struggled with isolation throughout the pandemic. In fact, every student speaker at the graduations, from elementary to middle school to high school, shared that same sentiment. That even though our kids have healthy friendships, their brains and bodies are developing rapidly, and the stress of feeling liked and included is excruciating at times. That they are more aware than ever of the world's volatility around us and how social media scrolling demons can haunt them day after day. 

Yep, anxiety knows how to throw us off with those sweet and sour nothings it whispers in our ears. Or, screams in them, prompting a panic attack. Whether you see Inside Out 2 or not, anxiety's sweet and sour nothings are with us for life. All we can do as parents is be there for our teens and offer our grounded guidance, love, and support. We can help them understand that they can learn to live with and manage anxiety their entire lives. I know I need that reminder from time to time. 

Getting It All Done

I sat at my desk working on algebra homework after school. I was in junior high at the time and loved math, did very well in math, but didn't always love all the homework (of any subject). What teenager does? True, I always felt like I had accomplished something important in finishing the homework and studying for quizzes and tests when I had them, no matter how long it took. And the reward was in understanding what I was learning, and of course, good grades. 

What made it all more palatable during the homework time was the music I'd listen to. I put in an 8-track tape of Aerosmith, Kansas, Journey, or another rock band of the time (this was a few years before I became the Rush fan I still am today). Yes, 8-track tapes. I had those along with cassettes and record albums. 

Not really the best study music, and definitely not reading music (I did turn off the music when I was just reading), I still enjoyed my rock and roll with math, history, science, and other subjects throughout junior and high school. 

Yes, my parents would ask me every day if I had homework, and remind me to do said homework, and I got it done, with or without my music. The deeper into high school I got the later I would stay up, although that wasn't always the best time to study and finish homework. I had to because playing sports and other extracurricular activities ate up my after school time, especially in the fall when I played football. But I got it done. It's always a beautiful mess in progress. 

For our own children today, we've impressed upon them good study habits and the autonomy to get their homework done and study for tests. We do ask them if they have homework every day, and they can get stressed about getting their work done, but most of the time their own developing work ethic keeps them on task. Also, they both love their own music sometimes when they're doing their homework. Our middle schooler Bryce is a night owl and will work after dinner and late sometimes, and our high schooler Beatrice likes to be fresh in the morning before school, or to do if before dinner if there's time. No matter when and where, they're doing the work. 

We help our kids when they have questions about their schoolwork, or at least try to help them. Some of these subjects we haven't studied for decades, and the curriculums have certainly evolved over time. We've found that, if we can't help them, even if we look up the subjects online for refreshers, having them attempt to explain to us what they're trying to learn actually helps them find the answers we can't help them with. And in their explaining, we follow along a little bit better and learn something ourselves. My goodness, I had AP calculus in high school, and I have no idea about the math they're doing today. Mom is also more patient than me, and the usual go-to; I'm like the substitute teacher that way. 

In the end, our kids are getting it all done with their unique strengths and struggles, and in their own unique autonomous ways, with great grades to show for it and we couldn't be prouder. Even with a little teen whining along the way. Or a lot. 

Grateful For Being Human

 "...one day I feel I'm on top of the world
And the next it's falling in on me
I can get back on
I can get back on..."

–Rush, Far Cry

Sometimes I wish I was an algorithm. One that would quickly learn from its mistakes, adapt, and improve, all without monsoon emotional swings. Without attaching conspiratorial outcomes to change. Without second-guessing its decisions. Without feeling buried under the weight of circumstance. Without feeling momentarily hopeless because things break. 

But I'm not an artificially intelligent "it". I'm a sometimes intelligent human being whose synapses fire, and misfire, as regularly as the sun and moon rise. One day I feel I'm on top of the world and the next it's falling in on me. 

Everybody can feel that way, I know. But when it's you in that moment, especially when it's falling in on you, you feel like you're the only one in the world, the one you were once on top of. This complicates things being a parent of older kids, teen daughters who are more self-aware than there were as kids. They struggle even more because their brains and bodies are developing rapidly and their synaptic firing is like a rollercoaster ride the dives from the upper atmosphere to the center of the earth, then back again. 

And when things are fairly smooth for us the parents, it's easier to help them with the relationship struggles. their study struggles, their body development struggles (especially being females), and all the other things we remember from our own teen worlds. 

When things aren't very smooth, we still have to figure out how to deal and adapt ourselves in order to help them. We're supposed to be the adults in the room, and when things are seemingly rapid-fire change and circumstance, it can be a momentarily overwhelming ordeal just dealing with the ordinary and things that break. 

Our daughter Bryce's bike broke (which was my wife Amy's), which is a bummer because she's the only one willing to ride her bike to school at least once per week, which helps us with the transportation. It was under warranty and we got most of the money back for it, but now have to find a new bike that will definitely be more expensive. 

We had new flooring put in last year that included our staircase. But the very top one started to break and my wife Amy slipped and fell straight down the second one breaking it. She was bruised and sore but thankfully okay otherwise. That's when I checked the other stairs and noticed a few more were loose. That overwhelmed me as a safety problem for our family, although I know we'll get it all fixed.

Even with my default "no" setting, Amy and I were going to attempt to fix our trailer hitch connection on our SUV, and while we got a better understanding of how things work and connect on our car, with discovered that the main brake lights didn't work. The upper third brake light still worked and all the other lights worked, but not the main brake lights. We had no idea how long they'd been out, and immediately we ruled out the fuses and then narrowed it down to the light bulbs and the brake lock switch. But since the latter was above our pay grade, I was banking on the fact it was the bulbs. It was. Thank goodness.

All of these things – our daughter's bike breaking, the stairs breaking under Amy's poor butt, our car's brake lights breaking – combined with the fact that the work year's been tough and now my business has merged with another company (ultimately a great thing) – and all my synaptic misfiring commenced. "One day I feel I'm on top of the world and the next it's falling in on me. I can get back on, I can get back on."

And I do get back on. In the end, I really don't wish I was an algorithm. I wouldn't trade my ability to feel emotions and experience all that life brings for being artificially intelligent in a million years. No, this Thanksgiving, I'm grateful for being human – a fallible human who can feel buried under the weight of transitory circumstances. I'm grateful for a loving wife and partner, and two amazing daughters. I'm grateful for all my family and friends, my current employees and my new colleagues. I'm grateful for our health and our home. I'm grateful for my community, my state, my country, my world (no matter where it's burning). I'm even grateful that things break (sometimes). 

I'm also grateful for empathy, and this Thanksgiving, blessings to those living in war zones, in poverty, on the streets, with mental illness, with physical illness, with anything that compromises health and safety.

No Rotten Tomatoes Here

Bryce kept moving around during the final cast bows and her head bobbed back and forth. I thought, What is she doing? Is she still singing and dancing?

And then I thought, Ah, that's what she's doing; she's crying. Just like her dad.

Mostly tears of joy and the reality that the Beauty and the Beast All About Theater production she was in, her first true theater experience, was coming to an end after over three months of rehearsals. So many new learning experiences, new friends, and a new love: the theater. Musicals in particular. 

When both our daughters were in grade school (pre-pandemic), they were in a few after-school musical productions. While they both had fun, it was Bryce who seemed to have an affinity to acting, dancing, and singing. When it came time for the Beauty and the Beast auditions at the beginning of this year, she struggled with doing it or not. One of her good friends had already been in a couple of these shows, and Bryce became very interested in auditioning. 

And then she didn't want to do it. And then she did again. Bryce likes to be introverted a lot of the time, so something like auditioning for a musical took an inordinate amount of bravery and energy for her to pull off. Her stress ran really high prior to the first audition. We did our best to comfort her, to encourage her, and finally when the day came, she did it. 

After she tried out, she couldn't wait to go back. 

Bryce really wanted one of the main roles, the character of Chip, but in the end it was her first serious youth production, and she ended up being the hat seller and part of the many ensemble groups. She even had two lines, one in the first act and one in the second. We were so proud of her during opening night and closing night, the two nights she wanted us there. 

The time investment for Bryce was more than she'd ever experienced before, way more than even playing soccer over the years. Like her dad (me), stress builds up inside her until she's ready to blow. Fortunately her meltdowns were at a minimum, including during tech week when they rehearsed every night for nearly a week prior to opening night. 

For us, there was the financial investment for Bryce to participate, which we'll be happy to do again and again if she continues down the theater path. Plus, the parents can save money off the total investment for their kids when they volunteer to help with sets, costumes, etc., and my wife Amy volunteered a lot over the past three months. I did a little bit, in between my work and being on our local school board, including helping to haul kids back and forth to rehearsals and performances. 

With all of our investments of the past three months, especially Bryce's, the result was renewed love of acting, dancing, and singing in theater, something we believe she's always had, and always will have. There was nothing wrong with being the hat seller and part of the ensemble groups in Beauty and the Beast, her first real theater production. The entire cast of 10-17 year olds, choreography, direction, orchestra, stage help -- all the things -- were amazing! The experience is something Bryce will never forget and she will be back. Early on, she told us that they were going to throw rotten tomatoes at her for being so bad. It became an ongoing joke with our family. 

"Don't post any pictures of me, Dad," she also told me over and over again throughout the production. Being the photog of the family, that's always a tough one for me, but I always comply unless I get permission from either kid. Instead, Bryce gets a proud and goofy parent pic on the last night. That got a smile through all the bittersweet closing-night tears. No rotten tomatoes here. She was fantastic!

To Be Me Anew

With all the things that kids and teens worry about and have to deal with today -- like loneliness and isolation of social media, bullying online and off, gun violence, climate change, racism, sexual harassment and violence, and so much more -- watching some of them shine onstage was such a blessing.

Because of extreme weather where we live in California (and everywhere), our youngest Bryce's choir performance kept getting postponed. It's her first year in middle school and she loves being in beginning choir and a local theater production of Beauty and the Beast. In addition to her love of marine biology, we definitely think she's found another calling (for now anyway).

When both the beginning and advanced choir performances actually happened, it was combined with the middle school's talent show. My wife Amy and I and our oldest Beatrice didn't know what to expect, but we were certainly looking forward to it.

And it was transformative, especially for me. I've been burnt out with work, and the business I run has been tough the past few months. I also had to lay off an employee because business has slowed. For those who have been laid off recently, blessings to you. I know it sucks. It also sucks for those who have to lay off even after all the hard work my small team and I put into the business. 

Unfortunately, decades of life and work experience can make you feel cynical, tired, burnt out, and done. That's have I've felt for months now, with the only bright spots being my family, my drumming, and serving on our local school board. So, as we sat there watching our daughter perform songs enthusiastically with her choir mates, I began to feel inspired again. Both choirs were so good. What I wasn't expecting were the amazing talent show performances that were sprinkled in between both choirs performing. 

One boy danced the Napoleon Dynamite dance to Jamiroquai's Canned Heat. If you've never watched Napoleon Dynamite, you're missing out. Performance after performance blew us away. There were kids we've known for years since ours grew up with them, and to watch them now was really a treat. Another girl I coached in soccer years ago sang Somewhere Over the Rainbow, and that brought a few tears to my eyes. That's a special song to me that always tugs my heart strings. 

There was another girl who sang idontwannabeyouanymore by Billie Eilish, which was a song I didn't know. Definitely a melancholy song, but there was something poignant and empowering about it. The opening lines had me fixated: Don't be that way, fall apart twice a day. Not all the song's lyrics resonated with me literally, but the chorus did: I don't wanna be you, anymore.

All the kids who performed that night in the choirs and in the talent show were so brave and inspiring. Even those who made mistakes kept going until they finished. They were all nervous and took big breaths before they started, looking out over the auditorium packed with parents, siblings, friends, and classmates. The choir teacher had a non-stop smile on her face from ear to ear. We all did. What become crystal clear to me in all that we're dealing with today in the world -- and with me feeling so cynical, tired, burnt out, and done of late -- is that I don't wanna be that, anymore. 

I want to be me anew. Thank you, kids. You're the best of us. 

The Act of Simply Doing

Oh, how I dreaded it. The long walk up a driveway or a walkway to the front door. I'd park my bike on the sidewalk and approach a porch imagining so much ridicule and shame coming my way once they'd open the door. I felt that way going to every home on my paper route to collect their monthly newspaper fees. 

Most of the time was without negative incident. They'd either be home and respond pleasantly getting me cash or writing a check, or they wouldn't be home. Sometimes I'd get a scolding about throwing their newspaper into the bushes or the front yard and not right on their front porch in front of their door. Sometimes I had to go back multiple times to collect when they weren't home (or they saw me coming and didn't want to pay). 

It was my first job at 12 years old. I enjoyed the newspaper delivery part most of the time, but not the collection part. Also, the early Saturday mornings folding, banding, and delivering the papers weren't all that fun either, but the reward was worth it. A little money and after Saturday delivery, fresh donuts and a Coke as a treat. 

The collecting of payments was an anxiety-filled drag. I didn't have the job for very long, but I'll never forget it either. Through all that stress, there were some important communication and persistence skills I learned at a young age. Asking people for money isn't easy, even when they owe it to you, especially for a 12-year-old.

Decades later, it's hard to watch your own kids stress about new life experiences, and the fear of putting themselves out there and then failing and being ridiculed and shamed is a difficult rite of passage for many kids and teens (and adults). For our youngest Bryce who's now 12, the angst was over trying out for a youth theater production of Beauty and the Beast. She had never done anything like this before where there were auditions being held and she actually had to try out for a role. Her anxiety was palatable, but after she got through the initial auditions, she really started to enjoy it. In fact, now she's loving all the rehearsals, the learning, the singing, and the dancing with a new found confidence. We can't wait to see the production!

More recently for Beatrice, who's now 14, the angst was over marketing herself to babysit. She took an online course, passed, and I then helped her put her first resume together for her. After getting the word out that she's ready to babysit, a friend gave her a paid practice run, but afterwards she got no other bites, which was another stressor. The hurry-up-and-wait time added up -- until finally she got the call for a babysitting gig (a text to her and her mom actually). She wanted to do it, but was apprehensive, and went back and forth about it. She also worried about making mistakes and her mom and I told her the only way to learn is to do it. And she did do it and did just fine. 

The stress-relieving catch phrase for both girls has been, "But they're going to throw rotten tomatoes at me," whether that's about trying out for theater, babysitting, presenting in class, etc. How they heard that expression, we have no idea. It's an old expression that refers to the practice of throwing tomatoes at bad performers going back to the early 1900s. Nobody throws rotten tomatoes anymore, at least, not literally.

Put yourselves out there, kids. Take risks, face your fears, stretch, learn, fail, and try again. Do it all. Sometimes the greatest success is in the act of simply doing. And that cumulative success of doing can empower self-confidence for a lifetime.

Aglow With Healthy Choices

The only thing worse than telling a stressed out adult that everything's going to be okay is telling a stressed out teen that everything's going to be okay. There's a nuclear fission reactor inside teens that's constantly splitting emotional atoms that unleash inordinate amounts of overdramatic erratic and irrational energy.

And that's on a good day.

This body-changing and hormone-raging energy can run the gamut from frenetic to brooding and change in a millisecond. It's not that teens can't be rational and somewhat adult-ish in their daily disposition, because they can, but developmentally their frontal cortex is just coming online as everything else in their body changes. It's a whole new world for them, and for their adults in charge. When I think back to my teen years (and even through my 20's), there were seemingly countless stress-filled days and nights that completely altered my perception of reality. I split emotional atoms regularly and radiated myself with mind-melting anxiety that got worse as my teens wore on. 

Adults struggle with how to deal with radiating teens. My parents did their best to understand my sister and I and to talk to us rationally. They offered me sound but unrealistic advice on how to deal with stressing about a test, or a teacher, or trying out for sports, or a part-time job I had, or going to college, or a girl I liked, or -- the list goes on and on. It was unrealistic because developmentally I couldn't "adult it" like they could (or tried to), no matter the choices in front of me. Thankfully they never told me to just "deal with it."

And we'll never do that either. Whether it was last year when our oldest Beatrice worked through her angst about applying to be a junior leader and camp, and then doing it and loving it, or this year when our youngest Bryce recently wanted to audition for a youth theater production of Beauty and the Beast. And then she didn't. And then she did. And then she didn't. And then she did. And now she's loving it. It's hard to watch your kids stress out about things you believe ultimately they'll enjoy and will help them learn and grow, but stress they will. Plus, even with the competitiveness in growing up, we want them to enjoy what they choose to do, just like all the years I coached them both in soccer.

My wife Amy and I understand all this (or try to) and do our best to provide our daughters the strategies and tools to manage splitting their own emotional atoms and the choices they'll make (or won't). We can't prevent the anxious meltdowns from happening, no matter how much we'd like to, and no matter how trivial we think it is. Because to a teen, all things are far from trivial. We're also not going to tell them to just deal with it and/or get over it; that's just not realistic or even possible for them (or us as adults). Thankfully parenting with Kidpower and Positive Discipline has helped us traverse childhood's easy bake ovens to teen-land's nuclear reactors. 

However, we can't expect them to just do something because we think they should, no matter much we want to see them do it. Or force them to do it by shaming them or telling them they don't have a choice. Because they do. At least ours do. Understanding and applying choices, good or bad, are a big part of growing up, and our kids should have choices. Because choices can help them overcome their anxieties when they have the right tools and strategies. Finding their own way won't prevent them from stressing and radiating anxiety, but it will help them grow up aglow with healthy choices.

To Keep The Heart Lights On

"If ever a man had it all
It would have to be me
And, oooh, I love you..."

–Climax Blues Band, I Love You

I listened to Roger Love speak about speaking. About voice and volume. About melody. About how all the things he shared with the audience, being a famous voice coach, can make us better communicators. 

Unfortunately I was tired from work travel, so I nodded off here and there. I heard most of what he said, though. About how important melody is and why we should pretend we are singing while you are speaking. We should move it around, shake it up, swoop, dive, soar, and let our voice be as interesting as we are.

Man, I needed melody in that moment. Feeling burnt out at work, unsure of the future as recession fears grow, and being far from home at a work conference called HR Inspire, I felt very uninspired and alone. After Roger was done speaking, another attendee struck up a conversation with me. Our spouses came up, and I said it was almost our 25th anniversary. Twenty-five years from the day we met, and 19 years from when we were married, on the same date. I also talked proudly of my daughters. He smiled and asked me what was so special about my wife, I said, "She's open and empathic and has such a loving heart. Our children have such a great role model." Then he asked, "What about you?" I smiled and winked, then said, "She's taught me well."

And while that was nice sharing about my wife and daughters, it also made me more miserable and homesick. After that, I wandered alone as the attendees left, many headed to the conference reception. The conference venue was Music City Center in Nashville, and music of all flavors was piped over the event center PA system. 

A familiar melody started to play, an old song I've always loved. One that reminded me of my wife. Lyrically it wasn't literal to our relationship, but it was close. The song was "I Love You" by Climax Blues Band, and it floored me. I sat alone in the lower lobby and tears welled in my eyes. 

I thought about that one day at the beach nearly 25 years ago, and more tears welled in my eyes. I've always been a hopeless romantic my whole life, although romanticizing our love hasn't needed much help; our melody has always been there. However, we've had relationship problems and painful moments of angst and anger, but we've learned to prioritize honesty, growth, intimacy, and love. And even after 25 years of love and growth, we're going through this book called The Love Prescription: Seven Days to More Intimacy, Connection, and Joy together.

I sat there and wiped the tears away. No matter how fried and uncertain I felt about my business and my work life, and how fearful I was about the future, all I had to do was think about these melodies: the love of my life and our children. That's more than enough love to keep the heart lights on. 

"Since then I never looked back

It's almost like living a dream

And, oooh, I love you..."

A Renewal of Faith

"'Cause I'm never gonna stop the rain by complaining
Because I'm free
Nothing's worrying me..."

–B. J. Thomas, Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head

"Jenny," I said to our dog. "It's raining."

Jenny yawned and did a downward dog stretch. I thought her eyes said, I hear it, Dad. Ugh, that means I'm going to get wet.

While I waited outside for her to do her morning business, towel at the ready to dry her and wipe off her feet, I celebrated the rain. The rest of the family was still fast asleep on this dark and wet early fall Sunday morning. Our rabbit was safely snuggled away in his hutch. 

I reached my hand out to let the raindrops fall onto my open palm. Cool, wet, and soft. Soothing. No other sounds or smells but the rain. Like a therapy session for the soul. All the adulting things we have to deal with and worry about day after day washed away temporarily. The unstable world around us – the drought where we live, fires, the pandemic and other diseases, the economy, inflation, making a living, cultural and societal divides, crime, mental health issues, dangerous misinformation, and of course raising our children in the middle of it all – restabilizes into refreshing and nurturing raindrops for a world longing to heal. I placed my wet palm to my face and smiled.

Rain has always had this effect on me; God's way of inspiring a renewal of my faith in humanity and my place in it. We all want to be loved, to be safe, to be healthy, to be ourselves without fear of shame or discrimination. 

As I dried off our dog Jenny, "Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head" played inside my head. That was followed by a a line from "Three Little Birds":

"...don't worry about a thing, 'cause every little thing gonna be all right..."

Jenny and I sat next to each other on the coach. Everyone else was still asleep. I love my family, I thought. Jenny sighed a doggy sigh. I sighed a hopeful sigh.

Yes, a renewal of faith. Because I'm free, nothing's worrying me. 

Day One All Over Again

Our girls were excited for us to see their classrooms and meet their teachers. It would be the first in-person open house since before the pandemic and we were all looking forward to attend. I was already to go for more than our children because earlier that day I had met with the presidents of the teacher and administrative/support staff unions to talk about their priorities. I'll be on the school board starting next year so the timing was good before our open house. 

But I have to admit, I was a little apprehensive for this middle school open house. The ghosts of decades past school anxieties always bubble up for me before these current in-person school events. 

Onward I went. It was great to see old friends and parents of kids we've been going to school with since preschool and kindergarten. Our youngest Bryce is in beginning choir this year, so before the class tours started we watched her perform with the rest of the kids and the school band performed as well. 

Our oldest Beatrice had looked forward to showing us around the school and wanted to make sure we knew where we were going. Again, it had been nearly three years since our last open house, prior to Bea starting 6th grade. The girls have been back in school for the past year, but more of the parent events have been virtual until now.

Our plan was to divide and conquer and then switch. Meaning, my wife Amy and I would go to each girl's first three period classes, then we'd switch for the last three periods. We'd been having a heatwave and the first few classes were really hot and stuffy, which triggered my anxiety. I pushed through though and kept my focus on what the teachers shared with the parents in the room. 

But then I misread Bryce's third period room number on the schedule she wrote out for us and went to the wrong room. The teacher was one that Bea had in 6th grade, one of her favorites in middle school so far, and I knew Bryce didn't have him. I felt bad, but a few minutes into his intro I knew I had to go find the right room. I apologetically got up to leave and he was gracious with my exit, giving me a fist bump on the way out. 

When it was time to go to Bea's physical education period, I asked another teacher where to go. She pointed to the field where a group of parents gathered, so that's where I went. Later Beatrice would point out that was the 6th grade PE period, not the 8th grade one. Hers was in the gym, so I missed out on that one. 

The last class of open house was Beatrice's history class. By then the outside air was much cooler and flowed into the open classroom windows. We all sat down and the teacher started her overview. I heard music playing in the distance and it sounded like it was coming in from the outside windows where all the kids played waiting for their parents to be done. But then it sounded like it was inside the room somewhere. I thought, who's playing music right now? 

The music persisted and now I could tell is was Abacab by Genesis. Great song, I thought. And then it hit me -- the music was coming from me. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone that was playing the music. Somehow I had started playing iTunes as we entered the classroom. I apologized and everyone laughed. The teacher didn't look too happy about it and I actually worried she would take my phone away. A dad in front of me said, "I love that song." 

That's how our girls' open house went for me. Just like that, it felt like my first day of junior high all over again. Anxious, sweaty, going to the wrong classes, feeling shy and withdrawn, accidentally playing music in class (which I never did way back when because I didn't have a phone then), and generally feeling out of sorts. And it wasn't just a coming-back-from-summer-break out of sorts. It was a coming-back-from-a-crazy-pandemic one.

I'm sure others felt the same way. Students, parents, teachers, and administrators alike. It's like day one all over again; the first time in a long time. But day one leads to another year of learning and out of sorts becomes in the zone. I thought about my meeting earlier in the day with the teacher and support staff union presidents. As long as we can recruit and retain quality teachers and support staff (not easy without enough affordable housing where we live); meet our children individually where they're at academically and provide the learning support they need; and provide them the social, emotional, and physical safety skills needed throughout life, we'll be okay. No easy task for sure, but a mission we're all signing up for. 

The Beginning of the Rest of My Life

We've gazed into the open sea tank dozens of times over the years. Watching all the tuna, sardines, sharks, stingrays, and sea turtles swim back and forth and up and down has always been relaxing. Our family stands there in awe every time we visit the Monterey Bay Aquarium. 

But this time was different for me. Profoundly different. While all the fish, stingrays, and sharks swirled and swam at differing speeds and directions, it was one of the two female green sea turtles that stood out. I stood mesmerized watching her glide effortlessly through the water in the front of the tank, slowly but deliberately, as if she knew exactly where she was in the universe in each and every second, free from the chaos around her. As an animal, she still has to survive the chaos and the predators eyeing her or her eggs as their next meal, especially in the wild.

If she survives, she'll live as long as most humans do. Her seemingly confident and methodical movement soothed me. So many things have been breaking for me recently, feeling out of synch, hitting walls, things going wrong, being full of judgement, worried about my health, worried about others' health, worried about my work, taking care of my family, the state of the world, as if I'm in this mercury in retrograde free fall. 

The sea turtle's mindful freedom calmed me. I couldn't stop staring at her. My wife Amy has that mindful freedom, something she's been working on for years. I have as well but I'm still behind, although our daily meditation has helped. And our children, they continue to have their own mindful freedom, at least until the weight of the adult world starts dragging them into the deep.

The sea turtle brought it all into focus for me. While all the people swirled and swam at differing speeds and directions around me at the aquarium, I glided effortlessly in place, slowly but deliberately, as if I knew exactly where I was in the universe right that very second, then the next, then the next, free from the chaos around me. I felt like everything just wasn't going to be alright, that is was already alright. That it was always alright. That it just was, and my response to it was the true measure of spiritual enlightenment.

With my wife and two daughters near me, I felt the profound loving warmth I always feel with them, but it expanded beyond them to all the others around me. It didn't matter that I didn't know any of them. My own newfound mindful freedom expelled all my worries and all my judgement; I watched them sink to the sea floor and melt away like snow on a spring day. 

I looked up and there she was, the sea turtle swimming peacefully above me. Maybe she was God, maybe she was me, but she's why this holy weekend became the beginning of the rest of my life. 

Stuck in the Middle with Me

"Clowns to the left of me!
Jokers to the right!
Here I am stuck in the middle with you..."

—Stealers Wheel, Stuck in the Middle with You

My mind is mired in work. I'm stuck in a problem; I'm stuck at a light. We are stuck at a light. I'm driving my family somewhere. To where again? I'm not sure. I don't remember. The light's still red. 

How do we solve for our growth problem at work? The market's never been more in our favor, but hitting a wall trying to figure it out. We've created the right services, but what else was our consultative approach missing? 

Frustrating. Where are we driving to again? Down to the water? Our dog Jenny's in the car, so we must be going somewhere to walk her. To the dog beach maybe? Where everyone takes their dogs? It's not that far away; it's time to take a work break anyway. The light's still red.

It's hot. We're having a warm spell in spring. The drought is still with us and isn't going anywhere. We're using too much water at home. Have to curb what we're using each day. 

Red light. Inflation. Recession fears. War in Ukraine. Work stress. Drought. Family stress. Tweens and teens growing up—

The light's now green. There are many cars behind me and some in front of me. We're supposed to cross the road, right? Turn left? I'm not sure and I don't commit either way. My family is talking to each other; I don't know what they're saying. 

My wife asks me if I'm going straight. That's when this younger guy in a solar company work car (I can see the word "solar" clearly but that's all) goes around me on the right to cross the highway and I hear:

"Why don't you turn on your fucking signal!"

It feels like slow motion, but now I feel anger quickly. I raise my right hand and flip him off and mouth the words "fuck you." I don't say them out loud, but our kids in the back seat see what I do, feel my anger and frustration. I want to punch him in the face. My wife Amy feels my anger and frustration. It's not a great moment for me. 

"Are you going to go?" Amy asks me.

I cross the highway and the young guy in the solar car is right in front of me. He turns left and we turn right. 

As I refocus on the moment and driving my family safely in the car, I say, "I'm so sorry family. That was not how you're supposed to respond to people like that."

"It's okay, Dad. He was being mean to you," our oldest Beatrice says. 

"Yeah, how rude," our youngest Bryce says.

But I could feel Amy's eyes on me. We work so hard to manage our emotions and respond positively to even the most negative of situations, especially in front of the girls. We talk about it every week at our family meetings. Ugh, but I blew it by flipping the guy off. 

"Again, I'm sorry," I say.

"It's okay. It happens," she says. "But we should call that guys company and report him. He represents his company driving that car and cursing at us like that is subpar."

"Agreed," I say. 

Our girls concurred, "That's right!"

I smile. We've got each other's backs. As adults, we're always stuck at red lights mired in adult problems, and if we can take a break, we should take one. We can't control how others respond to us, but we are responsible of how we react and interact, no matter how we feel. Always stuck in the middle with me, that is. 

Mercy me, that beach break was nice. 

The Ultimate Quits

"Nothing is perfekt

Certainly not me

Success to failure

Is just a matter of degrees..."

—Geddy Lee, Working at Perfekt

Two weeks in, I was miserable. Actually, misery had already been trailing me like a nasty funk, but it was the physics did me in. Literally the physics class. I had started community college with a scholarship, down a path to engineering, something I thought I wanted, but really didn't. In fact, I didn't know what I wanted at all way back then after high school. The end of high school for me was marked with horrible anxiety that stemmed from childhood trauma and the pressure to succeed from others, and from myself. 

Bottom line — I was a mess. So, two weeks after community college started, I quit. For a week after that, I pretended to go to classes, too afraid to tell my parents. They figured it out, were disappointed, but listened to me struggle to tell them why. A year later I'd start college at San Jose State University, where I eventually and proudly finished, but even that was a rocky road at first.

People quit things for many reasons. They quit school they never wanted, bad habits, unhealthy relationships, and thankless jobs. In fact, during the past year, millions of people have quit their jobs in search of something more for themselves, for their families, or both. If anything, the COVID-19 pandemic became a super-accelerator of change for many. Not just about jobs, but relationships and many other life choices. There's been so much loss as well of all the things we used to take for granted. We can't forget that we're nearing 1 million deaths related to COVID-19. 

Our children have also experienced traumatic changes during the past two years — losing loved ones of course, but also how they learn, where they learn, where they can go, who they can be with and see, what extracurricular activities they can or can't participate in. It''s no surprise that mental health challenges have increased dramatically with children and teens today. 

Pandemic aside, I was raised that when you start something, you finish it, no matter how unhappy you are or you become. It's worse when you're forced to do something you don't want to do because the adults in charge want you to do it. That it's the unhappiness of the challenge that builds character, resilience, and grit.

I used to believe that, but I don't today, although I've struggled with it to this day. There is context for for everything, and while persevering and working through challenging situations can help us become more resilient, we still have and should have the capacity to choose. To change our minds. To quit if necessary, especially when it's no longer fun and fulfilling. 

My wife Amy and I have always wanted our children to try new things, to want to learn new things. Beyond core curriculum in school, we're talking about sports, music, art, and other related activities. Years ago I wanted our daughters to sign up for the Jedi training at Disneyland, being the big Star Wars fan I am. There were nervous and stressed about trying it, almost backed out, but did it and loved it. 

Maybe they didn't want to disappoint me, but they did it. And true, that was me living my life through them, an adulting habit that can be hard to break. However, when they do discover activities they find fulfilling and fun, then we encourage them to pursue them further (even if we encouraged it in the first place). Fun and fulfilling is foundational for positive growth, grit, confidence, and overcoming fear. If they aren't feeling it, and misery follows and they want to quit, then they should, even if they're good at it. Soccer they both felt and still feel. Playing in the school band, not so much. They still tried, though. 

However, that's the hard part for me, fighting my "when you start something, you finish it" upbringing, no matter how miserable you are. That you can only be proud when you stick it out, because quitters are losers. But that's such crap. The latest meditation that Amy and I have been practicing is all about letting go. Letting go of things that are no longer fulfilling or fun, nurturing or loving, that are destructive emotionally and physically, and the list goes on. 

So, when we went to Ms. Tina's celebration of life, one of the beloved teachers from our girls' grade school who passed away suddenly last December, I looked out over the sea where the setting sun was headed as it let go of yet another day of possibilities. And it hit me — life is here, and then it's gone. Letting go of the not fun or fulfilling is healthy, the ultimate quits, ones we should be proud of for ourselves and our children. 

One Mindful Beat at a Time

The second time I tried, I fixed it. I didn't think I'd even try again after the first time; I didn't think I'd even try the first time. Fixing things beyond my working knowledge isn't something I usually spend any time on. While my wife Amy is someone who will hop on the world wide interwebs and find how-to YouTube videos, I ask, "Who can fix it for me? Where do I get a new one?"

That has changed some for me in the past year since we've had a trailer camper, although a lot of the learning curve is still above my pay grade. And to be fair, there have been many home projects over the years where Amy and I do it ourselves, with a lot of blood, sweat, tears and cursing along the way. Mostly for me, not from her. Plus, any time there are computer, Wi-Fi or printer issues, I'm the fixer, no matter how much I grumble about it. And I grumble about it a lot.

So, when my six-month-old electronic drum set hit a snag with the snare, I was bummed. The snare sound no longer triggered each time I hit the drum head. It was under warranty still, so I contacted the manufacturer and waited. And waited. 

And while I waited, I continued to work on me. Learning, stretching, growing and improving are big parts of our family culture, and we encourage each other and our daughters to try new things, to try things we've always wanted to learn. We also encourage each other to work through our feelings about the world around us and others, all starting with how we feel about ourselves first. We check in with each other daily and during our weekly family meetings, to ensure emotional and physical safety, empathy, belonging and love. 

The pandemic continues to stress us all out unfortunately. I've been super sensitive to overreactions and divisive anger all around us, limiting my time on social media and reading the news. So much has happened over the past year and a half. So much loss. So many broken. So much helplessness of not knowing how to help. Sure, we can donate, volunteer, get activated and participate in making a difference, which we do, but it can all still lead to mental health strain and sedating. Recently after reenergizing my heart, I focused more on Amy and our daughters. And me. 

After fits and starts for decades of always wanting to play the drums, I'm actually playing the drums. Really playing them. Not in a band or anything like that. Just practicing and playing nearly every single day. Which is why when my snare broke, it bummed me out. I could still play most of my lessons, but the drum sounds were off and I felt off balance, out of synch. 

I went online and searched for "how to fix your electronic drum head." I found a few videos and settled on one that guided me on what to look for. In most of today's electric drum heads there are two sensors that pick up the vibration from hitting the drum and then those vibrations zoom along cables to the drum computer that then translates into a specific drum sound -- snare, tom, cymbal, etc. -- that emanates from my drum speakers. The sensor at the bottom of the snare picks up the rim hits, and the padded sensor at the top picks up the main drum head hits. What I found was the wire to the top sensor was severed somehow. How it happened, I had no idea, but the cut was very close to the sensor itself under a glued foam pad, so I didn't think I could fix it. 

A week later I finally heard from the manufacturer and the new snare was on back order and they'd send me an alternative drum. I said to myself, Great, but in the meantime I'm going back in. I took the snare apart again and went to work. This time I figured out I could lift the glued pad enough to reconnect the severed wire without damaging the sensor. After putting it all back together again, it worked. Right on. 

But unlike my snare, I can't fix others when they're broken. I can encourage introspection and healing, but I can't fix them. While pandemic anxiety continues to punch down on many of us, the place to start is here (I'm pointing at my own heart). I can open up my own heart and tinker with what's inside. Maybe even fix it. 

One of the latest meditations Amy I listened to states, "My relationships begin within, through love and caring for myself." Amen to that. Whether you meditate or pray, exercise or vacay, or engage in other kinds of mental health help, fix your heart first, one mindful beat at a time.

Reenergizing Our Hearts

"A tired mind become a shape-shifter
Everybody need a mood lifter
Everybody need reverse polarity..."

–Rush, Vital Signs

I thought I was going to die. After the first lap, my asthma kicked in and I struggled to breathe. After the third lap, my lungs felt like they were filled with hot mud; I had to fight for every single raspy gasp of air. After the fourth lap, my skinny body was drenched in sweat and my face a pasty white. 

But I did it. Every year when I had to run the mile to pass physical education in grade school, I did it. Even with the asthma attacks I used to get. 

Fast forward to today – Beatrice has to run a mile every week in middle school PE, and she decided she wanted to work on improving her time. She asked her mom (Amy) to go with her, to run to the ocean about a mile from where we live. I told her I wanted to go, too. Her sister, Bryce, said no way. 

So, the three of us left the house and began to run. Immediately Beatrice sprinted ahead and Amy kept pace. I was left in the dust. I don't really run anymore since I had knee surgery, but I do run on the beach once a week at Natural Bridges State Park. As I ran the best pace I could, I felt every ounce of my body weight and I kept thinking about our recent decision to cut back on caloric consumption (food and drink).

Amy and I are in pretty good health, but as the pandemic wore on this past year, we both put on what has been jokingly called the "COVID-19". Thankfully it wasn't literally 19 pounds, but it was enough for each of us. We exercise nearly every day, and yet, our metabolisms are slower than ever.

Beatrice and Amy were over 50 yards ahead of me when we hit the half-mile mark. I thought I was going to die. No adult asthma this time (although it has come back over the past 15 years during fall and spring), but I was still sucking air. The weekly beach runs were not my conditioned friends at this point. I kept going though. Amy and Bea doubled back to be with me, but then Bea zoomed ahead again with Amy right there with her.

It wasn't just the weight that was the issue. Like so many working parents with kids distance learning (not this year so far thankfully), sheltering in place, wearing masks everywhere else, waiting for the vaccines (which we got once available), and the contrary extremes around us going completely bananas on nearly every aspect of life, we compartmentalized the daily grind and didn't really care for our mental health. 

We thought we did with our morning meditations and positive communication practice. And while it may have been a temporary mood-lifter, sedating with food and drink every night isn't really good self-care. It's just turning "off" until the next day starts everything all over again and the compartmentalizing continues. Even so, we remained grateful throughout for our circumstances and took care of our children and their emotional needs, just not our own as much as we should have.

After Beatrice, Amy and I finished running the mile together, and after I caught up to Amy and Beatrice who kept their 50-yard lead most of the way, I looked out over the ocean and to the Natural Bridge below where I'd finish my workout. My chest heaved, my big body was drenched in sweat, and my face was a pasty white. The air tasted so very sweet though, and was filled with a clarity and grace, without judgement, for ourselves and for others who have struggled with pandemic life, even when we think we didn't. We're finally reversing the polarity of our fatigued spirits and reenergizing our hearts. Blessings to you all. 

Our Mobile Happy At Home

When the power went out in the camper, it was the worst. In the middle of the night, everything quiet because the fan noise stopped. And then to find out our home alarm went off, too, and the cops had come to the door (which they friggin' charged us money for, too). These things weren't connected at all, just a faulty motion detector at home that we eventually got fixed, versus RV park's power going out. 

But the power going out in the camper while we were out doing activities where we couldn't bring our dog Jenny became too stressful for all of us, especially me. And especially Jenny, because we have to crate her inside the camper. If we were gone for a few hours and the power went out...I didn't want to think about that.

We tried to let her roam free inside the camper while we were away, but that turned into tearing the screen right off the door. We tried hemp chews to relax her, and that didn't really work either. Many of the places we've been to with our trailer camper we've been able to take Jenny with us outside with us, but there are times we cannot. 

RV travelers take their dogs with them all the time. As I write this, many people have already passed our campsite with their pups and I hear them barking near and far. When my parents had their motorhome, they brought their squirrelly little Chihuahua mix Lucky with them everywhere. My mom, who had an auto-immune disorder and chronic pain, was working on getting Lucky certified as a service dog, which meant she could technically take him anywhere with her. 

Our Jenny isn't a service dog, though, and changing environments for many dogs can be very stressful. When we first adopted Jenny, and tried to leave her alone at home, she peed everywhere and scratched at the front door leaving deep gouges. 

She eventually relaxed and realized this was her home, and we were her providers. Jenny actually is a good travel dog, until we have to leave her alone, and then it's as stressful as the day we brought her home. That's why we decided this time for our longer summer road trip adventure to get a house and pet sitter while we were away. Someone who used to babysit our daughters. Not just a dog sitter, but a rabbit sitter too -- our rabbit Dragonlily. He's easy, though. Hay and veges and he's good. 

We love our trailer camper. Our dog, not so much, although she likes being with us, but this time she'll be more happy at home. Our kids like being with us as well, thankfully, and traveling with us, but they too get homesick like Jenny does. 

We'll all make do for now and enjoy. At some point when they're older teens, our girls can take care of Jenny while Mom and Dad hitch up the little love trailer and hit the road alone; our mobile happy at home.

But then we'll have to have the "no parties" talk with the girls, which of course will be another post for another time in the future. Mercy me, another time. 

Happy Memorial Day Weekend! Thank you to those who have sacrificed for our freedom to have our mobile happy at home!