Friday, December 31, 2010

2010: A Wonderfully Horrible Year

I ran a poll on Facebook and Twitter asking people to rank 2010 on a scale of 1--10.  I got an enormous number of responses.  The average score was 5....well actually, the average score was 4.9-something but I'm rounding up.  Depending on how you look at it 2010's cup is half full or it just got a failing grade.  Of course a few people did give it a 10 but there were a lot of 1, 2 and 3s.  

Personally I'm not exactly sure how to rank 2010. If you had asked me in July I probably would have given it a 3 too. A lot of messed up things happened during the first part of the year.

But here's the unexpected part: All the events that I had been upset about turned out to be launching pads to get me to new and incredibly exciting opportunities. I don't mean that in an abstract way. I'm not suggesting that what didn't kill me made me stronger or some other stupid daily-affirmations-calendar-cliché.  I mean that events that tore me apart at the time of their happening directly led me to the path that I had been seeking (and not finding) while things were going well. That's absolutely true in regards to my professional life but it's also true within my personal life.  It's like I had a huge stack of books and someone just knocked them all over, making a huge mess.  But the weight of their fall also knocked open the door to a secret passageway that seems to be leading to a really cool place.  In fact I now actually feel grateful for those who screwed me over in the first half of the year because without them all the good stuff that happened during the latter part of the year wouldn't have taken place.

It's hard to see the big picture when you feel you're being pummeled by a bunch of seemingly overwhelming challenges and setbacks. When Spiderman was bit by a spider he didn't say, "Wow, this is awesome! I've been bit by a spider and that's going to make me a powerful superhero!" Instead he said, "Ow."    

We're allowed to say, "Ow," when we're hurt. We're allowed to take a little time to nurse our wounds. But please keep in mind that sometimes the wound was a necessary component in the process of getting us to the place where we want to be. It's not always immediately obvious how that's going to happen. But sometimes the bad things aren't really so bad. You just have to give it time to figure out how it's all going to work out for you.  

2010 was a difficult year for a lot of us.  But, for many of us, I think all those challenges are going to lead to a really amazing 2011.  Personally, I can't wait to see what it brings.


                                                        Happy New Year!

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Wednesday, December 29, 2010

A Psychological Disorder Is Not A Mark Of Shame

There's a patron at the Starbucks I frequently write at who is schizophrenic.  Judging purely from the state of his clothes I would guess that he's homeless (although it's certainly possible I'm wrong).  Almost every day he comes in, buys himself a cup of coffee with his change and then sits at a table by himself and carries on an animated conversation (with himself). I don't know what the "voices in his head" are saying but apparently they are very entertaining. He never raises his voice but if you're at a nearby table it's easy to hear that his conversations always make him laugh and smile and at times I'm almost jealous of him.  If I want to hang out with a friend I have to pick up the telephone and arrange a meeting. He on the other hand apparently carries his friends with him everywhere he goes.  If he had access to Microsoft Word he could probably turn those voices into endearing characters who we could all enjoy.

I told this to a woman I met at a party who had just told me that she worked at a different Starbucks.  She  nodded and then said, "The Starbucks I work at has security so people like that never get in."

Note that I never said that this man harassed the other customers. I never said he hassled the staff. In fact what I did say was that he was a paying customer and that he was in good spirits. I also said he was schizophrenic and homeless and in this woman's mind as well as the minds of the vast majority of people all over the world (whether they admit it or not) that is enough of a reason to forbid him access to establishments where "civilized" people like to hang out. 

The other day while I was at my standard Starbucks the man fell out of his chair.  He just sort of tipped over and landed with a thud. He lay there stunned for a moment and then pulled himself together, righted his chair and sat down again.  I was on the other side of the cafe but I noticed that no one near him asked if he was okay. No one said anything. They just stared at him and then returned to their coffee.

If I had fallen someone would have asked if I was okay. 

It got me thinking of the time, several years ago now, that I took someone close to me to a psychiatric ward after he became suicidal.  His suicidal impulses were brought on partially by extreme circumstances but mostly because of a psychiatric condition he had not fully gotten a handle on or been able to fully accept.  When you take someone to the hospital so they can commit themselves (and he was going willingly) you don't go immediately to the psych ward. You go to registration. I went up to the woman at the desk and explained why we were there.  The woman, who was extraordinarily solicitous and kind...to me, directed me to a seat and gave me some forms. She did not direct the man I had taken with me to a seat. She did not say hello to him.  She offered me a glass of water and a huge comforting smile.  But the guy who was to actually become a patient...well it was like she was willing him into invisibility.   

The man I had brought to the hospital was suicidal but he wasn't stupid nor was he incoherent.  In fact he's fairly brilliant and he was, at that moment, very calm.  "She doesn't think I can fill the forms out for myself," he said under his breath as he took a seat next to me.  "She's not even treating me with the respect you would show a five year old." 

If this is how people with psychological conditions are treated at the hospital why would anyone reach out for help? Why would they accept a diagnosis that would ostracize them from the rest of the world?   Those who clearly have a psychological disorder, like my buddy at Starbucks, are treated like lepers. Those who have psychological disorders that manifest themselves in more subtle ways are treated like high-maintenece freaks who always get what's coming to them.  If someone comes out and admits to having heart disease or AIDS we don't roll our eyes and tell them to pull themselves up by their own bootstraps. When someone tells us they have cancer we don't get angry at them when the symptoms of their illness overwhelms them and affects their behavior.  That's not to say that we should shrug our shoulders and smile when a loved one fighting diabetes binges on chocolate cake and tosses their medication out the window.  In fact if we saw someone we cared about behaving that way we would probably get angry and demand that they put the fork down and get their butt to a pharmacy and/or doctor.  But with the mentally ill we rarely demand that they get help. We're much more likely to tell them to just pull themselves together, get angry when they don't and eventually become ambivalent and...well, will them into invisibility.  

I have seen both friends and family members self destruct. Once I've tried and failed several times to get them on the path of recovery I have walked away.  It is, of course, important to know the difference between being tenacious and beating your head against a brick wall.  Plus truly self-destructive people are like suicide bombers.  They blow themselves up and everybody around them gets hit with the shrapnel.  I'm compassionate but I'm no martyr and I won't be an enabler.  Still, before I walk away I TRY. I try to help them get over the shame they feel for having demons or an illness. I try to get them to accept their situation so they can deal with it. But I am one voice trying to be heard over the collective screams of a society who would have these individuals believe that their demons are their own personal failings. That any admission of a psychiatric condition will be used by others to define them as human beings.  

I think that more people WOULD get help if we all bothered to ask the homeless man if he's okay after he falls down. I think more people would choose an option other than self-destruction if the receptionist at the hospital didn't treat those with psychiatric conditions like lepers.  I think if we didn't immediately back away and avert our eyes when someone confesses to having a psychological disorder more people would seek treatment and if they did more resources would be assigned to finding newer and better treatments.   That's just supply and demand. But we live in a world that is trying to squash that demand to the peril of a huge portion of our population.  I know there has been some improvements in our understanding and acceptance of psychological disorders, but we have such a long way to go.

We have to change our thinking about this.   We can't withhold our compassion from those who need it most. 


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Friday, December 24, 2010

Why All Jews Should Love Christmas

As a Jew I really have come to love Christmas.  I didn't love it so much when I was working retail but now that those days are behind me I'm back to loving it again.  I suppose I love it for all the wrong reasons but again, I'm a Jew so I think I should be given some leeway on this one.  

I love it because I like the lights and the makeshift eco-ice iceskating rings that pop up all over California  (almost like skating on REAL ice...or so I'm told).  I love the Christmas carols by Annie Lennox, Stevie Nicks or any other pop sensation with a haunting voice that I once listened to with my mom when I was a little kid.  

But most of all I love that I don't have to stress over the whole thing. My son and I go all out for Hanukkah.  I decorate the house in sparkling blue and white banners and whatnot with the word Hanukkah spelled in four or five different ways,  I make sure that there's at least one perfectly wrapped gift to open for each of the eight nights, I make latkes and I scout out the entire city to find the best jelly donuts.  It's fun, it's magical and it's exhausting. And when it's done it's done. I don't have to stress anymore. I am not out there with the last minute shoppers desperately trying to find the perfect last minute holiday gift.  If there is someone  who I feel needs a Christmas gift from me I usually just try to get it there by New Years. I figure they all know I'm a Jew and therefore will excuse my inability to remember that I must ship a week early in order to get the post office to deliver something to a residence by the 24th. Being Jewish at Christmas is like being Californian in New York. "Oh so she's always a little late and a little crazy," my New York friends will say during my visits, with a little chuckle. "It's part of her Californian charm." That's exactly how my Christian friends view my belated gifts and my Christmas-laissez-faire attitude. It's just me being my charmingly crazy Jewish self.

It's also true that while Hanukkah always sets me back a few bucks financially it doesn't have the financial impact Christmas seems to have on a lot of people.  I used to try to get a little Christmas gift for each of my son's teachers but now that I'm in LA my son's teachers are all Jewish anyway so I just send him to school with a few extra jelly donuts to hand out during the Festival of Lights and boom, we're done.  Not a lot of extra expense there.

And I don't have to lug a tree on top of my car or vacuum up a bunch of nettles, instead I can enjoy everybody else's trees without putting out any effort at all.  I know the commercials say that the Christmas season is supposed to be about cherished family time and all that but as I said, I used to work retail and I know damned well that for a lot of people Christmas is about running around like a crazy person, maxing out your credit card, fighting your fellow shoppers for the last remaining animatronic toy and/or video games that was advertised during the Sponge Bob Holiday Special and screaming at your salesperson because she can't find a size eight holiday party dress that will fit your recently eggnog-enhanced figure.  God forbid you should just buy a ten...but lets not waste time revisiting the Ghost of Christmas-Retail-Past.  My point is that as someone who doesn't have to worry about any of that I can just sit back and watch The Christmas Story for the 8-millionth time while eating bagel chips and my much less caloric but equally indulgent pomegranate martini (although there's a chance that there's still some evidence of the jelly donuts on my figure by the time the 25th rolls around but most of it has inevitably been burned off while stumbling around on the eco-ice).

And perhaps most importantly, I love Christmas because no one makes any demands of me between the 24th of December and January 1st.  Editors and whatnot are all out of the office, no one sets a deadline that lands during this week.  If I'm working on a new book, no one from marketing will choose this week to call me out of the blue to ask if I could get them a new author's bio or a list of quotes from recent reviews by tomorrow. I usually send my son up to Santa Cruz to spend time with my parents and for once I get to work on whatever it is I want to work on without being pulled in fifty different directions. 

It's hard to find that kind of calm when you're a working single mother and when you do find it, once a year during Christmas, it's worth cherishing.

For me that's the magic of Christmas. 

So to all my readers, Merry Christmas. If you're celebrating it then I hope your holiday is filled with joy and laughter. If you're not really celebrating it because you're one of my fellow tribe members, or a member of another non-Christian religion, are a Jehovah Witness or are simply allergic to pine-trees then I hope your day is filled with the peace and calm that only Christmas can bring.

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Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Reinventing Yourself After 35

These days a lot of people have to reinvent themselves between the ages of 35 and 45, occasionally even older. Sometimes they have to reinvent themselves professionally because of an unforeseen layoff or career setback.  Sometimes it's on a personal level due to the end of a marriage that lasted well over a decade.  Thanks to Sephora and the talented colorist in your local hair salon it's pretty easy to trade in the mom jeans for a pair of Rock & Republics and hit the hip lounges without seeming out of place.  As for the professional changes, well, no one is able to retire before 70 these days anyway so if you start a new career at 40 you still have at least thirty working years ahead of you.  The problem is not that reinvention is too challenging, the problem is that it feels too challenging.

People in their 20s often feel like the world is full of possibilities.  They can do anything they set their minds to. They will find the right man or woman and they will not settle.  They will "establish" themselves within their profession of choice before having their 2.5 completely healthy, adorable and obedient children.  The children will make their marriage stronger and will be raised in the way this perfect couple wants to raise them (and both spouses will be on the same page in regards to child rearing, always).  There will be no plastic toys, no TV before the age of five, these kids will attend the school the parents like best and excel, share all of their parents interests and they will willingly eat their organic vegetables.

In your 20s all of these expectations seem incredibly reasonable. Every college graduate has to reinvent themselves when they step into the career world and trade in their friends-with-benifts for life partners but those reinventions aren't hard to undergo because the people doing the reinventing are sure that if they simply do all the right things everything is going to work out the way they want it to.

While in your 20s you can jump into a new endeavor with both feet and with only an ounce of fear.  In your 20s you know that relocating for this or that job is obviously a good decision because even if the company isn't perfect you can MAKE it perfect. You have the power to change the world!

By 35 you know that's a load of BS. You can relocate and it might be the right decision but then again it might not be and recovering from a WRONG decision could take years and possibly bankrupt you or even cost you a relationship.  You know that you can give a project your all and still have it fail. You know you can bend over backward trying to be the best employee ever and that can still not be enough to save your job or get you a much needed promotion.  You know that there really are forces beyond your control.  Even success may not look the way you anticipated it would.  And now that you know how quickly the price of health insurance goes up and you're paying your own rent/mortgage, taking a low paying job in a new field in the hopes of making an impression on an employer and getting ahead is a very high risk and scary proposition.

If you have children you've come to realize that children are a bit like plants in that they come in lots of different varieties and even if you have always thought you would be tending to a flowering cactus garden you, my friend, have been given a fern.  If you want your beautiful fern to flourish and respond to you you're going to need to give it more water and less sunshine than you previously thought was appropriate. The cactus was given to the person who expected an apple tree.  And you know that if your kid's an orchid it doesn't matter how established you are in your career, the time you're going to have to spend taking care of this child is going to amount to a career setback.  A 35+-parent knows that children, particularly during the first few years and PARTICULARLY if the kid's an orchid, tend to add tension to a marriage rather than marital affection.

And you know that there is no such thing as the "perfect soulmate." You know that relationships take an enormous amount of work and sometimes end even though you were sure they were going to last forever.

So in this changing economy where industries that we all thought were recession proof are biting the dust and new career approaches (and sometimes entirely new careers) are needed in order to survive, the 35-45 set frequently find themselves in the exact same position they were in when they were in their 20s except this time they're scared.  Really scared, not just nervous. And when you have to start dating again during these years it's daunting because you know how much work is involved and you know that when it comes to love, or anything else for that matter, there are no guarantees.  You know that frequently your job must accommodate your family obligations, not the other way around.

Taking that big leap is a lot more intimidating when you already know what it feels like to fall.

But we have to take the leap anyway. We have to be stonger than we were in our 20s. We have to use our knowledge as strength rather than a burden.  We have to use our failures to make us more successful than ever. JK Rowling, Bill Gates and Walt Disney all had an intimate knowledge of failure on both a professional and personal level.  To say they bounced back is sort of the understatement of the century.  We can't all be Bill Gates or JK Rowling but we can learn from their refusal to give up on their ambitions and dreams.  JK Rowling personified the clinical depression she experienced after her divorce by creating Dementors.  Bill Gates used the experience he gained developing software for his first business Traf-O-Data (which failed) to launch Mircosoft.

No one enjoys failure and it's silly to say one shouldn't fear failure, particularly if you've experienced it before, because failure is inherently scary. But you can't be brave if you don't have any fears to face. That's the advantage that you have when you reinvent yourself later in life.  Now when you take major risks you're not being naive, you're being brave.  You've made mistakes which means you've learned lessons that the fresh-out-of-college graduates haven't.  That's doubly true when it comes to romantic relationships.  You can use your understanding of failure to accomplish amazing things.

So yes, reinventions are more frightening after 35, but they are potentially more apt for success.

And that is something to cling to when you feel on the verge of a panic attack.  



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