Tag: Family

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Emotional Work

Day 585 and Rip Off the Trauma Bandaid

I hope I can capture even a fragment of my emotions as I am on the other side of several hours of post-moving therapy. And I am drained but also armed with more wisdom than when I started the effort.

Moving is obviously a traumatic experience for most people. Anyone who moved as a child has some memories of how the change revealed new aspects of who they are and what makes them feel safe. Parents worry about it a lot about moving and for good reason. I know my mother certainly did and she did her best to protect me.

But we know that life is chaotic. Any type of change is already in a dance with accelerating entropy. Expect your unfinished shit to get drawn into the accretion belt surrounding the event horizon of your fears. Black holes are scary because we know they will kill us unless we commit enough energy to the fight to escape.

Sometimes some parts of us don’t make it. They become lost to the nothing. The dark impenetrable inversion point where we are forced to face the powers of destruction within us. Of course, it’s natural to sacrifice some part of yourself to banish the demon we know to be who we are.

It’s actually shocking to realize that inside of you might be some kind of personal Kali ready to rend the apocalypse at your weak side. But then you try not to think of it too much right? You’d rather ignore your demons right. Don’t feed the wolf right? Feed the good they say.

I am here to tell you that the shadow exist even if it scares you. It’s pulling you in just like that black whole. You can fight it your whole life. And maybe you win. Maybe you have that kind of fuel.

But if you ignore that shadow you will be pulled in it no matter what. Wouldn’t you rather run the calculation on how to achieve escape velocity? It’s going to be expensive. But it’s better to know the costs of living.

Categories
Preparedness

Day 578 and Tactical Errors

I’ve moved somewhere in the area of forty times over my life. And you’d think this would make me excellent at it. But no matter how careful your planning, the execution will be filled with tactical errors. It’s the nature of the beast and you’ve just got to roll with it.

The first and most crucial tactical error we made was not buying backup air conditioning and fans. We’ve never lived in a house that was entirely without air conditioning. Apartments have been either small enough for a window unit or had central air. The town house has installed mini splits. But Montana has not traditionally required central air or mini-splits.

We arrived on the hottest day of the year. The upright air conditioner we bought simply died within five minutes of unboxing. We had multiple fans but those 2 fans are only enough to help with one room if it’s large. And of course, buying fans or air conditioning in a heatwave in a smaller town is impossible. So we are a bit stuck with it until they can arrive on Wednesday from Amazon.

Most of the other tactical errors are similarly environmental. Moving boxes are dusty. There is dust everywhere from everything including books, outerwear, crap you didn’t realize you were lax on cleaning regularly. We’ve got two air filters running full steam and my eyes are red and puffy despite that. I’ve got hives on my eyelids. Finding the appropriate antihistamines and attempting to fight the dust is a losing battle that nevertheless must be fought.

I am confident we will find plenty of other ways in which we’ve fucked up the basic tactics of the move. That it’s mostly dust and heat is a bit of a blessing in some ways. Murphy’s Law is strongly enforced during times of routine disruption.

What can go wrong will go wrong.

Moving is inherently a process of fighting entropy. A new place and a new house are ways humans fight against the decay of our lives. It is a losing battle. Physics is pretty clear on that one. But we fight on as overcoming tactical errors is just part of living.

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Community

Day 577 and Whirlwind

The last few days have been a whirlwind. I probably owe at least a dozen “thank yous” to friends and family and neighbors. I hope my brain catches up to my body soon so I can appropriately express my gratitude to everyone that has come together to get Alex and I moved to Montana.

I woke up in my own bed in my own home today. We did laundry at 10pm last night so we could put sheets on a mattress and sleep at home instead of the Airbnb we had rented. Alex and I both had a moment where we just wanted to be home. And kindly my mother and her husband as well as our friend Austin took the Airbnb so we could enjoy our first night in our new forever home. Even if we hadn’t unpacked much more than a mattress and sheets after the long drive it was worth it.

At around 7am today folks showed up to help unload and unpack. Friends from Twitter arrived. I may have jumped onto a few folks in my enthusiasm to deliver hugs in gratitude. People’s teenagers came over (including the son of the previous owners). I am still somewhat astonished so many folks pitched in.

Everyone was good sports (somewhat less so me) about the heat wave hitting Montana and simply hauled ass to get everything out of the moving truck before noon. My mother and I were on errand duty as we ran across town to acquire food and sundries. And now as the temperature rises we are slowly coming down.

It is siesta time for the afternoon. It will be too hot to do much more and the single air conditioner we brought imploded on us. On its first use. You wouldn’t think you’d need air conditioning up in Montana but such is global warming. The stores here are all out of air conditioners as it’s such an intense heatwave. But that is a problem for another day.

Categories
Emotional Work Travel

Day 576 and A New Chapter

I don’t live in Colorado anymore. I’m not really sure I felt like I lived there at all right now. I feel as if the last two years were just a Covid blip attempting to do the impossible; to go home.

By home I mean I left Manhattan for Colorado. Back to the city where I was raised. Boulder was a city where most of my childhood and firsts happened. My first dog. My first period. Where I met my first love. And where then I had my first heartbreak. Where I had so many silly little personal accomplishments that make up a childhood. All of those life milestones happened in Colorado.

When the world turned inside out during Covid, I wanted some sense of safety and certainty and recognition. You can’t really go home though. Being back felt like an interlude. Like a break where I was vacationing from real life. Convalescent after one too many curveballs. Which is a surreal way to feel about a town that raised you. But it just never quite stuck.

I’m driving through Montana as I write this. My mother and her husband are helping Alex and I move up to Bozeman. I’ve got about a hundred miles till we hit town. We are driving alongside the Yellowstone River on I-90. And I suddenly feel like I am home.

Categories
Travel

Day 573 and Great American Road Trip

I am about to set off on one of the great American pastimes. The drive from Boulder to Bozeman is not very long, only about 9 and a half hours, but it is a majestic drive that covers badlands and soaring mountains all along the Eisenhower interstate system.

The I-25 to I-80 route is one of the gems of the mountain west. It has corporate industrial hellholes, the haunting poverty of our reservations, and the entrance to Yellowstone Park. It’s as good a route as any to explore where we are as a country. Even when gas prices are high. Actually scratch that. Especially when gas prices are high.

We’ve done this drive a few times in both directions. We’ve got a routine for it. Heck we even have a specific McDonalds we stop at on the route. But we’ve never done it with friends and family. It’s generally been a simple married couple drive. There is less drama when it’s a duo and much more time for introspection. It’s either you driving or you recovering from the drive.

When we embark on this road trip this weekend, it’s going to involve a truck, several internet friends and my mother. It’s going to be a bit of a larger cast. In my fantasy version of events, it has all of the makings of a modern day Chevy Chase vehicle.

The kind of comedy that all Americans appreciate as a part of their birthright is the indignity and joy of the open road. When you add in vacations it’s a hoot. But a move? It’s a bit more pioneering in your mind. You see yourself in the fabric of life, narrative manifesting itself as intimate drama. Right before you step in piss at a gas station bathroom.

I frankly cannot wait for this glorious adventure. I am confident we will have pratfalls. I hope we do not have any actual calamity. At least not one that cannot be solved with a bit of wit, a truck and one’s parents. But expectations are just premeditated disappointment, so who knows where the road will take us. That is the magic of the great American road trip.

Categories
Internet Culture

Day 570 and Fuck Boys

I’m a little too old to have ever thirst trapped. It isn’t that I wasn’t aggressively on social media when I was younger and single but the forms and semiotics of the space hadn’t codified yet. Clout was a lot more protean in 2014.

I’m absolutely fascinated by how much sexual status is now played out by your consumption choices on Instagram and Tik Tok. You filter it because your dating apps remove you so completely from the context of each other’s lives. No one meets through friends anymore. The apps have dominated costal enclaves in particular.

This atomization is affecting our our behavior in some negative ways. The more we moderate our professional profile the harder it is to discern morals and intent absent from your best marketed self.

Everyone is signaling in a giant sexual market place where even electricians have to worry about personal brand. And this is the origin of the fuck boy I suspect. There is a kind of man (and I’d argue woman too) that just doesn’t play by fair emotional rules. People get atomized and they get comfortable using other people independent of their own agency to consent. Power and status has never been less clear.

This is all on the backdrop of a world where sexual mores are being restricted back to retrograde positions previously only held by the reactionary right last generation. Everyone else got a whole lot chiller about advertising their sexual lives just as the new generation of prudes would rise up. But also maybe everyone just wanted to go back to being prude. Vibe shifts are coming at you fast.

Our elites have never been more promiscuous. Everyone is fucking each other but not so discreetly as there once did in our British colonial past. Our gossip columnists have fewer boundaries and besides everyone knows visibility is good.

But if you had ever considered that you might hold yourself to more relaxed standards of acceptable social relationships well that was a mistake. You plebeians better shape up and go with the conservative social family ideal. Even the gays. Especially the gays. I’d buckle up for some rapidly shifting cultural waters as I don’t know where this goes but I’m not optimistic.

Categories
Community

Day 562 and Expensive Hobbies

My mother has a theory that the nicest people on earth have expensive hobbies. This doesn’t mean that they are necessarily rich, in fact quite the opposite. Nor does she mean that it’s expensive from strictly financial perspective. She means that resource intensive hobbies, ones that take significant investments of time, energy and social capital, make for kind communities.

The more “expensive” it is commit to a hobby, the more likely you will meet folks who will be welcoming if you approach them humbly. People that put a large investment into a hobby are often allocating a significant chunk of their limited disposal income into the thing they love. It signals a commitment that is easily understood by others within the group.

She originally developed this thesis via exposure to boat people. Her family has a number of blue collar folks who live on the water. But she further developed it with exposure in the mountain west to horse people and others who ranch or breed livestock. Horse people are particularly welcoming folk.

There are endless varieties of hobbies in this category but in particular anything that has a challenging and steep learning curve lends itself to the “nice folks” theory. If it took you significant resources to become adept, you will remember your early days of struggle in the hobby. That memory turns out to be crucial. You will want to help others because you will recognize their struggle from your own past.

This desire to help others isn’t universal. You will look for those that want to help themselves. But if you see someone struggling mightily, and humbly, in an “expensive hobby” that you share it’s human nature to pitch in. God helps those that help themselves. And so do other humans. And in place is it more obvious that you want and need the help than when just starting out on a challenging endeavor.

Categories
Internet Culture

Day 561 and Community Building

The big move to Montana is only a few weeks away. I was expecting to be in a frenzy of preparation but I’ve been stuck in bed with a symptom flare so I’ve basically done nothing but ask for Twitter advice. Thankfully my community online is generous and available with their insights.

I’ve been lucky to participate in (and build, communities in spaces as varied as fashion, local politics, and disaster preparedness. My husband is also a community builder professionally. We both have a knack for finding our people and becoming a part of of all types of communities both in real life and online.

We are both excited and a bit nervous to move to a new town. Bozeman is a small town but not so small that it’s clear where we should start when we arrive. We’ve been told it’s a bit skeptical of outsiders. We’ve definitely received the advice to change our license plates immediately. It’s a bit intimidating to be honest.

There is a lot of amazing advice from my Twitter friends on becoming a member of a new community in real life. I would definitely check out the thread if you are feeling isolated or like you could be better connected to people around you. It’s helped me feel like I actually might be equipped to integrate into Bozeman smoothly.

I’m already putting the advice into the big Notion project management document that Alex has put together for our move. We don’t have too many close neighbors (just two on our road) but I am looking forward to introducing myself to them. I’m still debating what activities and organizations I will prioritize when we get there.

I am most interested in gardening, local agriculture and community preparedness efforts but I have enjoyed town politics in my past life. I served as an appointee on Manhattan Community Board 1 and loved it. There isn’t a lot of glamour in permits or licenses but it’s crucial work. So perhaps I can find a way to serve local businesses in a similar way.

Whatever happens, I cannot wait to invite people over to our home. It’s always the one on one connecting that weaves you into the fabric of a community and there is no better way to do that than being welcoming. So I will probably start by showing up, smiling and listening to my new neighbors.

Categories
Internet Culture

Day 536 and Keeping Tabs

I sometimes forget that other people read what I write. That makes me pretty comfortable just saying whatever I like in public. It’s not like anyone cares right? As someone skilled in the dark arts of marketing, I know getting anyone to pay attention to anything is a shit ton of work. Surely I am speaking into the void.

As I don’t actively promote my writing in any commercial way, my assumption is that the one Tweet I send daily with a link isn’t garnering a large audience. I know that I have a big presence on social media but I’m not a celebrity so I’ve never felt particularly scrutinized. No one is keeping tabs on me.

So I’m often surprised when someone has read what I’ve said. Not because it is a secret but because I know just how hard it is to get attention for anything in this world. And yet people do pay attention.

And since my husband loves to joke that I’m incapable of lying, I worry that I’ll get myself in trouble by saying so much of my truth online. If I’ve done something in my life the chances are good I’ll immediately discuss it. Which is a recipe for being main charactered.

Dissembling is not one of my talents. This isn’t to say that I’m not capable of crafting a narrative. I think facts exist in a context and I’ve got no problem articulating my worldview based on my own specific context. But telling an outright lie? There is a reason I don’t play poker. So I guess I might be stuck with saying my truth online as I’ve got neither the skills nor the talent to hide it. But if you are reading you are more than welcome to comment, email, @ Tweet me or find online.

Categories
Emotional Work

Day 535 and Daddy’s Girl

I hate Father’s Day. I find myself debating if I can get away with a text or an email marking the occasion. I do this as I’d like to make it through the day without crying. I almost never can. Sometimes I just ignore it entirely.

I’ll reach out to my brother and ask how he is doing. He’s the only one that seems to have a better grip on the “our father” feelings. They are complex for me and untangling them is always painful.

I am a Daddy’s Girl. Everything that’s good (and some of what is bad) about me is a refraction of my father’s ambitions, interests, desires and personality.

I got my love of technology from him. I got my career in startups from him. I learned to socialize and leave a good impression from him. I got my optimism from him. I also got my need for distance from him. My preference for keeping my loved ones a little further away is from him. My struggles with intimacy and emotional availability are his too. I am my father’s daughter. I suspect I’ve also acted as a proxy for what he wanted in a son as well.

Even after years of therapy, unpacking how I feel about my father has not made the tender feelings any less acute when I touch them. I merely understand that my trauma is my father’s trauma and his trauma is his father’s and so on stretching back to who knows when. We carry our heritage.

I tell my father I’ve forgiven him for his mistakes. That I understand he did his best. I don’t think he believes me. I hope he does one day. He done what he could.

I am the absolute best of my father’s good traits. I am also the absolute worst of them too. Most of the good I have is because of him and most of the bad too.

Which makes me so angry. The steam rising up that my mother did all of the emotional work, gave me all of the love, and yet here I am a reflection of him and not her.

I’ll never understand how divorced parents can live with that kind of betrayal. To have done all the emotional work of parenting and yet see their child as a reflection of the other one. Anger is usually just hurt. And I do hurt. Not on my mother’s behalf. She is fine. I hurt because I wanted my father to be there too.

My father tried so hard to be a good father. My dad paid the bills. My dad was funny and well liked by everyone but his immediate family. My brother and I love him, but for a long time I don’t think we liked him. Maybe I’m wrong as my brother has been working through his feelings longer than me. Maybe he always liked him. I know we always loved him. I still love him.

I like my dad now. I can see him as a human as I get more distance from my childhood. He can be an old man now and not the father figure that let me down. Which is a relief when I can hold that thought. I see all his good and how he passed it on to me. And I can see how even the bad, perhaps especially the bad, what made me into the woman I am.

He is smart and loves technology. He has never missed a Comdex or eventually a CES. He always has the newest gadgets. His enthusiasm for new things has never waned.

Like other Boomers, his belief in the future and in youth, let him retain a kind of enthusiasm for what’s next even in hard times. And that inspired my entire life’s trajectory.

There will never be a time in my life when I don’t seek his approval. He loves the future and I want to create the future for him. The new and the next will always be for him as much as it is for me.

Which is impressive as the “new” hasn’t always been kind to him. He suffered for his optimism. I have no fear going into this recession because I saw him be broken by one and come out the other side. He is still the same enthusiast he was before the markets crashed and bankruptcy hollowed out his American dream. He got it all back and more. And that belief that we can build back always stuck with me. I’ve never been afraid of hard times because of him.

I’m moving to Montana soon. He moved there first. He’s like that. Always seeing one step ahead. I fought against the idea of Montana for a bit as I wasn’t sure I could make the same decisions he did. Even though I often do.

But I do believe he is right about the last best place on earth. And true to our preferences for distance he will be a comfortable five or six hour drive away. Neighbors in the end but with plenty of space.

Fathers and daughters have it tough these days. Sexism and expectations for how to live are in flux. My father did his absolute best to never let me see myself as anything less than equal. Which isn’t always an unqualified good but I’m still grateful for all of it.

If you’ve ever felt let down by your father even as you know he’s buoyed you up your entire life, then this post might make perfect sense. If not then it may seem offensive to codify the complexities of a familial relationship in public. How could she write something like this? To which I say sometimes the only way to love someone is to say your truth out loud.

Happy Father’s Day Dad. I love you. And I know that to be true because love is having someone betray you, utterly let you down, or even do the unforgivable, and yet you still love them all the same. I forgive you. I am still Daddy’s Girl.