March 8, 2019

Our education system is such that we never spend more than a few years in one place for most of our formative years. The longest I spent at one institution was elementary school - seven years from kindergarten through grade 6. For someone who goes through a lot of education, this extends into the mid-30s. So for my entire adult life, I’ve never been in one place more than 5 years. As a result, it was a little daunting to come into my “grown-up” job expecting that this be for the rest of my career. I know most jobs don’t have such perks, and most adults don’t end up doing this, but here I am. It’s been 6.5 years since I took this job, and I’m acutely feeling how this is the longest I’ve been somewhere in a long time.

In my first few years, things were really great. I was so happy to be here. I remember this. This was my dream job, and I was doing well in the role. My commute was negligible. My personal life thriving. Things were going well.

But over the years, there has been an erosion. My personal life is still going well. My commute is more irritating, but still much better than most. I appreciate that. But there has been erosion at work. Not to the point of wanting to leave, but enough to set off warning bells for a need for something to change.

The previous post is part of it. People at work not celebrating my life milestones, and then going ahead to celebrate everyone else’s milestones, just keeps reminding me over and over how much work doesn’t care about me as a person. Salaries have been basically stagnant all these years, and at one point actually decreased, and so considering inflation, I’m not being remunerated any better than when I joined. Possibly worse. (OK just calculated on a salary inflation calculator, and definitely worse.) Considering the steady increase in price for absolutely everything, this is a measurable way where I can once again be reminded how work doesn’t care about me as a person. And more recently, the process is in motion to tear down the building where my office is, and build a new one. They already know the new building won’t have enough space for everyone. So instead of thinking how they can increase the amount of space, they are thinking of how they can get away with not giving people offices.

So not only do they not care about my life outside of work, how much I’m being remunerated for the work I do, but also whether or not I will want to be at work. They do, however, remember to insist on jumping through a multitude of hurdles from various levels of administration to prove that I’m still doing enough work. Several times a year. So much so that I feel like I’m filling out forms in different formats saying the same information about what work I’ve done. And then they come back and tell me I’m “meeting expectations” or maybe scoring at whatever percentile compared to everyone else. Like it’s some kind of ultimate privilege to sacrifice my life, time, and happiness to measuring up to their predefined metrics.

All these different components have eroded my work satisfaction over the years. Someone recently pointed out to me that career angst is common in this stage of my life. Maybe if I was near retirement, I wouldn’t care, because the end was in sight. Maybe if I’m still starry eyed from getting the job at all, I wouldn’t care, because it all would seem so great still. So I suppose my mid-career stage does have some role to play. But only because I’m still in a place where all these indecencies still matter to me. And from where I am, I can’t see how to make this better.

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Not appreciated

September 24, 2018

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how much I am (or am not) appreciated at work. Forever, I have made a point to try to help people feel appreciated. Getting everyone to sign birthday cards, for example, maybe little parties. But as I’ve spent more time here, realizing that nobody is arranging anything for me in return, I’ve found myself spending less and less time doing that kind of thing. And even feeling bitter when anyone gets things organized for them.

I think this really came to a head when I had a milestone birthday and there was not even a peep at work about it. I even got an unusual call to go to talk to someone about something on the Friday before the day, making me wonder if it was their way of starting a surprise party. But it was a genuine request to talk to someone about something. At that point, I did make it known to my boss that this was disappointing. At the time, other people explained that my milestone 40th birthday “wasn’t that important”, vs. other people’s 50ths or 60ths or 65ths. Which I think is total bullshit, since everyone knows 40th birthday is the midlife crisis point. From the point of view of needing approval in the workplace, it’s really the biggest one.

The fallout to that is that everyone was asked to contribute a significant sum of money to a pot for celebrations. Of course I was part of the donors. So now we have stuff. 40th birthdays. Pre-wedding celebrations. Pre-baby celebrations. Someone recently got a really nice necklace for their 40th. Theoretically, I’m happy this is now happening. But at the same time, I have more and more, “wait a minute!” moments, when I’m being reminded that nobody did jack shit for my wedding or my baby. (OK not entirely true, since I did get a really nice bouquet of flowers sent to my house after I had the baby.)

But it still burns. Because I got nothing. But now I have to give and give and give, and act happy about it. And I don’t feel like that. Because it keeps reminding me how nobody showed me appreciation in those ways. Despite my biggest life milestones in the last few years, there’s actually been no celebrations whatsoever for me. And now there are no more milestones for me for another decade. Maybe everyone will forget about doing stuff for people again by then.

So it makes me feel indignant. And it also makes me wonder what I’m doing, compared to those other people, that make me less likeable. What drives people to NOT want to organize stuff for me? What drives people to not think, “Oh hey, you know what she would really like? A little celebration! And I like her enough to bother!” Which makes me sad.

More than titles and pay and accomplishments, I really just want to be liked. I’m certainly not the most outgoing, but I also don’t think I’m a total social dunce. I also don’t think I’m generally a bad person. At least I always try to do the right thing. I help people when I can. And yeah, I just really want to be liked. We spend so much of our waking lives and mental energies on work. It’s a nice thing when work decides to send over a little appreciation.

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October 17, 2017

I’ve been pondering lately about how overwhelming it is to follow the news. So many terrible things happening around the world. Multiple debilitating category 5 hurricanes, and the resulting troubles in the Caribbean. Northern California wild fires. Earthquakes in Mexico. Bombing in Mogadishu. Syria. North Korea. Political unrest in Catalunya. Flooding. Droughts. NAFTA negotiations. American politics. Mass shooting in Las Vegas. Global warming. Melting glaciers. Extinction. It seems that every day, something else terrible happens. Each time I click on Facebook, Google News, or Twitter. Each time I turn on the TV. Or walk by a newsstand. So many thoughts that there isn’t any bandwidth to think. So many prayers that there isn’t enough time to pray. And if nuclear tragedy is going to befall the world at any moment, does anything I do even matter? Does it matter that I’ve taught my child how to be patient, or the difference between “up” and “down”? Does it matter if I can research a way to decrease injury by 5 %? Increase outcomes by 5 points? Even though people tell me what I do is important, it all seems so trivial.

We’ve been watching through Star Trek TNG episodes. And it strikes me how every episode involves some terrible thing that might kill everyone on board at any moment, and yet people still can prioritize the little life events. The Borg may be on their way in an hour, but by golly Captain Picard must pause to officiate a wedding first. How do you continue to live your life, when the world is crumbling around you?

Recently I also read about an interview with a centenarian, where she discussed the secret to longevity. A centenarian certainly has lived through world horrors. Both World Wars, for example. And it’s always very simple. Keep active, eat well, sleep well. Like the secret to being happy is not trying to stay abreast with world events.

What is right?

Knowing about the world events and trying to bias the world toward the better? For example, knowing about the dangers of plastics in the oceans can indeed help us make better day-to-day choices. Knowing about current cultural and world issues helps us be more compassionate to our fellow human beings. Each positive step counts.

But on the other hand, trying to keep up with events, in a time when horrible things seem to happen in rapid succession, overwhelms the senses. There are so many factors. So much nuance. It can leave you without emotional endurance to do anything. It’s paralyzing.

Facebook is a big part of the problem. A platform that was once a medium to share about your life - where you went to eat, where you’re traveling, what your kids are up to - is now a place where people share links to articles about some social injustice or some other tragedy. People arguing their political stance. Stuff you’d never had learned about someone in the past. I’d gotten used to going to Facebook to see how my friends were doing. But now, I have to sift through politics and world events, facts and opinions, truths and exagerations, filtered through the eyes of my friends, and echoed until it drowns out everything else. Do I need to watch every person who decides to dump ice water on their heads? Or read about each person who decides to post “Me too” on their feed? Or change their profile pic to have a border in support of whatever thing is trending? Is it going to make me a better person, or just more exhausted?

Google News is another problem. The more you click on a topic, the more of that topic it presents you. A trivial example: these days every small thing about Zelda BOTW ends up on my newsfeed. And it’ll keep showing up because I will keep clicking on them. But the same is happening with other things. Google News thinks I want to read about US politics? North Korea? Tragedies? Here’s more tragedies. Here’s more analysis on these tragedies. It’s not a balanced presentation of the news, the way picking up a newspaper used to be.

Anyway, I’ve ranted about the state of news before. But this barrage of “news” is making me consider more and more about whether it is better to know about everything and be paralyzed by it. Or, knowing there isn’t anything I can do to fix these situations, save my mental bandwidth for my own life. Because I know I would be a happier and more productive human being if I did.

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July 17, 2017

Lately I find myself easily embattled. Just waiting for 35 minutes for a bus that is apparently 22 minutes away, for instance. I miss walking 5 minutes to work. The office being so hot and humid. Every little thing that would previously just bug me a little, can throw me over the edge. I’m so tired. Fatigued. I remember how I would have reacted to stuff a 1-2 years ago, and it wasn’t like this. Nothing is particularly bad. I know that. Doesn’t make it easier to handle.

Also I feel like 90% of my job is waiting for people to do their job. Trying to find a nice way to remind them without them feeling like I’m nagging. And then when something does come back, it comes back with a million more problems.

I’m so tired. Can’t stuff just run smoothly?

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I hate my birthday

June 23, 2017

I hate my birthday. Ever since I was little, my dad didn’t like having other people in the house making a mess. So I would have my birthday at other people’s houses. Maybe my uncle’s place, or best friend’s place, or another friend’s place. It always felt like borrowed birthdays. It was also after school let out in the summer, which meant I didn’t get the requisite classmate celebration. At work, apparently people in my job class don’t get celebrated. (Incidentally, we’re also the only job class where our salary has stagnated year on year, and recently got decreased. No inflation adjustments here!) Every other job class gets celebrated, but ours. Give money to celebrate everyone else’s birthday! But nobody will even acknowledge yours. So I’ve always hated my birthday. Partly expectations? Hopes? That people will care?

This year I need to spend my birthday celebrating my baby’s birthday. I don’t want him to hate his birthday the way I hate mine, so I want it to be a big deal. Good for him. But for me, it just adds insult on injury. Here I am, at a big milestone birthday. And not only does nobody care, but now I need to focus everyone on his day. For the rest of my life, this will be his day. I want it that way. But it sucks so much for me.

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No clean slate

June 15, 2017

Lately I’ve been feeling very meh. There’s so much focus on postpartum depression, and although there was moodiness after delivery, it was overshadowed by the sleep deprivation and life overhaul. Turns out there’s also an association between breastfeeding weaning and depression. It makes sense. After delivery, your estrogen and progesterone levels tank, so that’s a biggie. But with weaning, your prolactin and oxytocin levels tank. So all those biological feelings of well-being and love? Crash. I wonder if this is less well known because so many moms either just formula feed their babies, or wean pretty early. So all the mood changes get lumped into post-partum depression.

So there’s the weaning. But there’s also just fatigue from everything else. Sleep deprivation from one reason or another. Sometimes it’s work. Once in a while, baby decides he needs to not be sleeping, either re-testing out boundaries or actually having good reasons like missing family members who are away for work or vacation. Sometimes it’s the dog, who for whatever reason decides that night she needs to freak the fuck out, or pace around nervously, or whatever. Sometimes it’s the rain on the skylights. Sometimes it’s a stray spam phone call at an ungodly hour. Whatever it is, it adds up. Then there’s work. At first it was catch-up work from maternity leave. Oh, and mommy brain, which is definitely real. Holy fuck, mommy brain sucks. A few times I’ve found myself so sure that something is the case, and turns out to be entirely wrong. Those little baby cells in my brain are wreaking havoc with my memory. Also trying to juggle everything. 5-8pm is just the most stressful time of day. Trying to get out from work, then standing at the bus station at the mercy of whatever stupid reason the bus, which theoretically runs every 10-15 minutes during rush hour, doesn’t show up for 40 minutes. Trying to make dinner, and now trying to make food for baby that won’t result in him choking to death. Or raspberrying it all back into my face. (No pureed peas. That’s the lesson from this.) Trying to make dinner not too close to baby’s bedtime. Trying to find time to call my mother. Not knowing if baby will bite my boob off at the next feeding. Not knowing if baby will fall asleep tonight on time (which thankfully is 90% of the time), or cry and cry until you let him stay up another hour. I think the unpredictability of the bus (despite GPS apps that tell you when they think a bus will arrive) results in the most stress. Sometimes you end up losing half an hour sitting around. 30 minutes out of a stressful 3 hour window is a lot.

And turns out there’s one more thing. Something I’ve mused about before. Most of my life until now has been parcelled out into 3-6 year blocks. The longest block was elementary school! Once the block is over, you get to celebrate, and throw out all details and start afresh. It’s been now 5 years since the last major transition to this city and this job. I know a lot happened during this time, major life milestones. But everything happens overlapping now. Stuff just builds up now.

I find myself looking to Facebook or Google News regularly trying to find something to celebrate. It’s as useful as when I used to check the pantry when I was lonely. You don’t find a friend in a pantry. And you don’t find good news in The News. If it isn’t some natural disaster, it’s a terror attack. People dying from one thing or another. Fires, explosions, violence, bloodshed. Racism, xenophobia, politicizing, sensationalizing. There’s nothing to celebrate there.

So stuff just builds up. And there’s no quintessential moment anymore where the slate is wiped clean. No graduation and moving on. No grand plans to look forward to in excitement and anticipation. Just more and more responsibilities. More and more hurdles. Overlapping and competing deadlines. And crappy news from all over the world.

So some of it’s hormonal. But a lot of it is just built up crap.

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Forgiven shambles

April 17, 2017

Lately I’ve been feeling like humanity is going to destroy ourselves either quickly by blowing ourselves up because of some pointless conflict, or exhaust our planet slightly more slowly by not taking known problems seriously. Perhaps the urgency of my angst is due to now having a child.

Turns out our generation has been blessed to have the opportunity to grow up in one of the safest and most peaceful times in human history. World Wars over, cold war ending, globalization and easy international travel. Safe to travel in most of the world. Some wars and conflicts here and there, but honestly not much to complain about between 1970-2000, a major blip after that, but honestly also pretty awesome from 2002-2016. Some conflicts, but so remote from ourselves that it was easy to brush off.

But it’s been degrading. The rich are richer, everyone else is poorer. Power concentrating in the hands of a few. Xenophobia. Terrorism. Seemingly random attacks on places that we have grown up accepting as safe. And now I’m starting to see how tenuous our peace is. How stupid reasons could tip us so quickly into the abyss. Don’t take me wrong, I think there is way more good in the world than evil. The way I see it though, is that the good guys by and large don’t make it into places of power. It’s hard to get there, and it’s much easier to lie and cheat your way there. So greed for power, greed for wealth, pride… these characteristics win out.  You end up with people in charge who don’t actually care about the people they’re in charge of. Only insomuch as their vote or momentary support when it matters. Other than that, who cares, as long as there is more power now. More money now. More pride now. During this election cycle, because the next is someone else’s problem. Truth doesn’t matter. Values don’t matter. Choices don’t end up being made that are actually better for anyone in the long run.

Because of humanity’s inability to come together to do what is right for humanity, I worry about our future. And perhaps have the least practice in how to deal with it compared to generations past.

In the season of Easter we celebrate our forgiven sins. Perhaps Jesus did come and forgive us. That’s great, thanks. But we’ll still go ahead and make a mess of everything. A pile of forgiven shambles.

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Reality vs. sensationalism

January 11, 2017

It’s been a while since I’ve blogged, and there’s a good reason. I’d been blogging for years, perhaps decades, under an anonymous website known to only a few good friends and internet acquaintances who cared enough to check it occasionally for my ramblings (or on my invitation). I maintained a level of privacy to allow me to speak my mind without concern. No identifying photos, names, or locations. I always intended it mainly for myself as a way to self-reflect, shared with some people I trusted as a sounding board for insightful discussion. This was a time when most people distrusted and rejected internet sharing as a geek’s practice, or something not worthy of their time.

With the rise of popularity of Facebook, there was an explosion of people I actually knew in real life finding it appropriate to share all kinds of personal details on the internet to close friends, family, and old acquaintances. Initially it was personal updates, family photos, vacation photos, updates on what they were up to. Gradually, people began sharing their personal thoughts and feelings. It was easy to move my web sharing over to Facebook, because suddenly everyone was there.

All this with the rise of clickbait articles, fake news, and strongly biased news sources with poor credibility. For me (and it seems a lot of people), the issues with oversharing became painfully clear with the recent US election, and all the other events over the past year with the rise of xenophobia, mass shootings, terrorist attacks, and death of cultural icons.

Suddenly, we found ourselves inundatd with “news”. Sometimes it was accurate news but just too much of it. Sometimes there was real news there, but it was framed in a very biased and sensationalized way. Sometimes it was downright inaccurate. It overwhelms the senses and makes it difficult to parse through truth vs. fiction vs. sensationalization.  I liken it to watching the Weather Channel all day everyday, when you’d likely get the sense that it’s best you stay at home forever.

Besides news, there’s all the viral “news” of specific individuals and their apparent stupidity. This became clear to me recently on two items. One of a guy who when asked how old he would be if he was born 5 years ago, and he got confused answering 20 or 21. Another of a guy who thought Obamacare wasn’t the same as the Affordable Care Act. Perhaps this person was really confused on the issue. Perhaps he was drunk or high and didn’t process the question. Perhaps he was doing this for the attention. Who knows. But the practice of sharing these things virally, not just for a couple of your friends to laugh at, but for thousands or millions of views and derogatory comments, suddenly everyone has been degraded to schoolyard level bullying. Deriving pleasure from the mistakes of others is wrong. It’s bullying.

The head of state criticizing individuals for their appearance, disabilities, or popularity is bullying. Regular old Joe sharing a clickbait article about how one person was so hopelessly confused about something super obvious to everyone else is bullying. It’s ill will, and not at all what I set out to do when I went online to share my thoughts.

I wanted to grow and improve as a person. I want to know what is really going on in the world. Not fall to a confusion of real and fake news, and laugh at the misfortune of others. So for the new year, my plan is to delete my Facebook app on my phone - check it on the web when I have time for friends’ updates. Watch the evening news on CBC, maybe read the Globe and Mail. Invest my time in reliable sources for news. Blog again. Especially since I’ve been posting less photos since I decided to not post photos of baby.

Maybe if I spend more time in reality, the world will feel less hopeless and confusing. Less sensationalized. More real.

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Alien invasion

March 4, 2016

I’ve made a decision to not post pictures of my baby on Facebook, or elsewhere online. What gets online never goes away, even if it’s shared only with “friends”. Face recognition capabilities of Facebook make it clear the information you share gets OUT THERE. So I want my kid to be able to decide for himself when he’s older what he wants to share and what he doesn’t. So no baby pics.

As a result, I’ve actually not even announced the pregnancy on Facebook. Everyone who knows either found out directly from me or by word of mouth, old-fashioned way. Which makes is weird for me because so much of my existence these days is coloured by my pregnancy experience. Not having an outlet to discuss my thoughts is weird. Which brings me back here.

One thing I’ve been learning with this pregnancy is that, despite procreation being a fundamental part of the emergence and existence of our species, the whole process just seems very unnatural. The aches and pains, awkwardness, unbalance that comes with pregnancy makes me wonder how this could have been so central to the evolution of life. My muscles stretch, joints ache, fingers and toes swell. Carpal tunnel syndrome. The constantly stuffy nose, going through so many tissues. The nausea and emotional outbursts. The unending fatigue, oh so much fatigue. I feel so useless these days, dysfunctional. Never can get enough sleep, but with sleep comes swollen and stiff fingers. Can’t use my dominant hand for mostly anything without tingling and pain. Normal tasks leave me out of breath.

Then there’s the constant surprise to discover your mental understanding of the confines of your personal space being incorrect. Larger breasts and belly means basic things (like how far you can lean in at the dinner table to avoid contact with the table or food dropping on your chest) a totally new thing that requires attention. Going down stairs requires craning your neck so you can see around the new obstacles blocking your view. Ever growing parts means never knowing where your body really ends anymore.

Finally, an independent-minded living being inhabiting your belly, doing things on his own schedule and at his own will. You spend your whole life having control over your body, and suddenly you have someone else in there with his own agenda. Mommy needs to concentrate at a meeting? Good time to hold a dance party. Mommy is settling in for bedtime? Dance party. In some ways it’s neat to begin learning what makes him tick. So far these days it’s foods with tomato sauce (pizza and pasta), dog’s loud barking, Daddy’s voice, and belly rubs. In other ways it’s weird to think that in a few months, I’ll be meeting this little man for the very first time and not recognize his face. Nine months spending every moment with him, and I wouldn’t be able to recognize him walking in the street.

Pregnancy is weirdly foreign and unnatural in ways that I had never imagined. I wonder if it’ll all make sense when I finally see his face.

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My rocket science life

August 19, 2015

Not long ago, my belief was that God only gives us hurdles because He knows we can manage them. Lessons for the overall development of our soul. But lately I have been feeling like I’m grasping at sand. As soon as you think that you’ve got one thing done, everything else seems to crash down. Every tiniest little thing seems to have become rocket science. Sometimes even things that you would really just not expect to go wrong. Random crap that just won’t stay fixed. It’s frustrating, and evidence is mounting that God is doling out more hurdles than I can cope with.

There are the things that don’t directly affect me, but make the atmosphere that much more ominous. The guy who was abducted from our building. The guy who was shot this month along our daily dog walking path. The other guy we walked by on vacation who was about to jump off a building. Sure, I wasn’t really affected, nor did I witness any of these tragic events. The shooting was late in the night. The suicide, mercifully, we missed. But they happened. Who would have thought we’d be seeing blue police investigation tents twice in a couple of weeks?

There are things that kind of affect me, even though I don’t have to take any action. My husband has been dealing with a very irritating case of identify theft. He’s had to spend so much time chasing around credit card companies and the like, making sure everything is appropriately blocked and passwords secured. Nothing has been lost, thankfully, but it still reminds us of the frailty of our personal security.

Then there are the things that personally frustrate me, work frustrations mostly. Grasping at sand. The moment you think you’ve got it securely in hand, it starts seeping out between your fingers. As much as I keep trying to get things done, as much as I try to keep a positive attitude and stay optimistic, things just aren’t happening. One step forward, two steps back.

This isn’t to discard all the good things that have been happening around me. Lots of weddings of family and friends this summer. Lots of friends with healthy babies this summer also. But then again, seeing babies everywhere just keeps reminding me that our own efforts are yet unsuccessful. We finally went to see a doctor about things, hoping that nothing was wrong. That we were just being impatient. But of course that wasn’t true either. Nothing that can’t be worked around, but still. Hurdles.

And to me, a lot of this is my body telling me that these stressors just aren’t within the range that is healthy for me. I need to lose weight. I need to manage my stress better. And you know what? I need to be doled less shit. Why can’t some things in life not need to be fraught with hurdles? Why can’t just some things be accepted as a given fact? Have sex = make baby. It’s not rocket science. It shouldn’t be. Why does everything have to be rocket science?

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