Saving Christmas

So, I'm watching Santa Clause 2 with the fam after a tasty breakfast and at one point, Tim Allen's character says "I've ruined Christmas"

And it made me think about the financial struggles and screwups and issues and it made me feel like that is exactly what I have done. It doesn't matter that the expectation levels are high - I helped raise the bar every one of the last 5 Christmases our family has had and now, facing a Christmas that we will be lucky to have half what we had last year, I am feeling pretty worthless.

So many things have to break just right to even get to that point. And I know that I have to play each one like a carefully thought out poker game with every ebb and flow and misdirection and real and fake tells and anything else that could happen all while playing it cool enough that no one realizes how close I am to failing the people I love.

Between crisis after crisis at work, crisis after crisis in the financial department, the impending bomb of my student loans coming due and well, the gamut of issues in the lives of the people I love, I wonder how much I can carry.

And I remember that I have always sought out positions of leadership. That I have always admired men like MacArthur who overcame impossible odds in Malinta tunnel and at Inchon and Kennedy during the Cuban Missile Crisis. That the men who succeed do so by being cool and focused under inordinate pressure. And that they are leaders because people turn to them in the moment of crisis to seek support and confidence and comfort - to know they will be the ones who solve the problem.

I know the night before Inchon must have been hell for MacArthur. I imagine what it must have been like for him to stand in Malinta tunnel as the commander, the husband and the father and know that he could never show anything other than supreme confidence or else he would rattle the already strained morale of his troops and his family. I cannot imagine what it must have been like the night before the Missile Crisis ended when we truly stood on the brink of unthinkable destruction. And then I remember that the context of my issues is pretty durn small. I know a year from now it will be okay.

I choose leadership because of three things. God gave me gifts that let me do it well and it would be wrong to choose easier paths because I wanted less stress in my life. I truly do want to make things better for the people I am responsible for, for the people I love, for the people I serve. And I would much rather be the person in the room making decisions than the person outside the room waiting for decisions to be made. So this is my path. I chose it, and I would choose it again. The pain in my chest is the penalty of rank as Drucker says.

And yesterday, in church, the Gospel said “Be vigilant at all times and pray that you have the strength to escape the tribulations that are imminent and to stand before the Son of Man.” And I heard that loud and clear. So much of my little life crises are mere tribulations that distract me from what matters.

So, I don't have time to worry. And it is wrong to give in to stress and worry.

I have to save Christmas.

Leadership

The hardest thing about leadership is the public face.

When I'm down or discouraged or outright depressed I don't think there is a place where I can show it. At work I have to be a force of nature - cheery optimism is so crucial - my boss calls it the confident shrug. At home, when I am down it shakes everyone because I have so many things that are crucial to everyone's happiness and they have been so let down by so many others.

And so much of what sends me down is small and silly. I so miss having a Great Dane around I can't speak to it but there is simply no way I can have one again. It would be unfair and cruel to inflict one on my wife when she lacks the strength to manage one since she would be the person who spent the most time with it. I can't spend the kind of time with one I need to and a dog that size doesn't fit into my life anymore. I love our little hounds...but they just lack the presence of the big guys I enjoyed so much. I look at Dane stuff and I get sad. I see Danes and I am near tears. And I know that makes ME the person who sucks.

And I don't stay down but I do downcycle a lot. And all I can do is put the public face on and wait for those moments when I can be alone with the black dog.

Nightmares

So I woke up from a nightmare to a happy dog. It's better that way.

In the dream I think we were somehow living at West Point again. I heard cannons going off and didn't think much of it since cannons go off periodically. The wife and I were talking in the house with guests and both girls were home. I said something that sort of reflected a bunker mentality and that set off some sort of argument. So I went outside.

And I noticed that the cannon fire was occurring fairly regularly. And then I noticed that shells were actually landing nearby and doing damage to trees and structures. Several in a row. Long smoke tails arching behind them. And somehow I turned and had visibility of the Plain and saw cannons going off and firing directly at the old buildings and barracks and now, instead of the metal hunks landing nearby, they were actually firing exploding shells and doing significant damage.

And then I realized we were actually under attack and went back in the house trying to decide whether to tell the wife we needed to pack for a week or three days. All the thoughts of being a refugee started flooding my head and the logistics were flying and I was trying to decide how to keep everybody calm while still getting them to run really fast.

And then the hound wanted to be petted.

It has been that kind of week. So much cannon fire that it seems like it is routine until the dim awareness grows into clarity and you realize they are firing at you. But I don't get to run. First I need to find a cannon and then return fire. Counterattack. And then I need to find a way to win a war that will never end with battles on 293 fronts at once. And we won't even talk about the financial disasters I battle every month.

I had a nightmare on Wednesday that I came home from work and the wife had died in our bed. And that completely shredded me. I am overwhelmed sometimes by how much I love her and need her. It seems during life's routine moments that things are not that intense but I cannot imagine I would survive without her. She has become so completely the most important person in my life it is like her existence sustains mine in a way that is so complete that removing her takes away something so essential that my system simply could not function like it had no air. I'm not even aware of how connected we are sometimes because it feels so natural to be connected to her.

And then, with that on my mind, I come home to deal with the kid's little parachute jump and that rattled me to my core. I was shaking I was so upset and I knew it was ridiculous and way out of proportion but all I could see when I heard about it was Viet Cong killing my father. I had a full blown panic attack and had to maintain the impression that I was just mad. When everyone else watched the video and I could hear them laughing and enjoying it, I was doing everything I could to fight the fight or flight terrors. I literally turned red and my chest was in such pain I was checking my rapidly accelerating pulse. I had three nights of that kind of excruciating pain this week. And I couldn't possibly share that much weakness so I just passed it off as really hating recreational jumping (which I do)...when I started trying to explain it to the wife it just sounded like "I am so weak and undeserving of being the man around here." so I stopped talking.

It's funny how over time it has come to me that no one really wants to know all the stuff in my head. I wish I had been clearer on that earlier in my life. I start to say things, to write things that are what I really think or what I really feel and I know that it doesn't matter and it would either be weird or upsetting to others so I just say the right things or backspace and type something else.

I indulge the black dog to keep me on edge and to vent a little of the emotions that have no other path. I am playing Full of Grace constantly again.

But I remain indomitable. I will not yield to this and I will not lose.

Despite that a nap would be nice. And some assets. Anyone have a fire cloak?

Some Days

Some days are harder than others. The black dog only nips most days. There are bad moments or hours or sometimes afternoons.

Today was ugh all day so far. Up too early. Caused wife to get up too. Shirt not ready which is no big deal but that made the wife feel bad which is a big deal. She does so much for me and works so hard and she takes it personally when she does not meet her standards. So while she made me go back to bed for an hour, she got up, made sure the shirt was properly dried and ironed it. At 4:30 in the morning. I do not deserve her.

And when i dozed off a little, I dreamed she died and I almost burst into tears. When she came back to bed, I just held on. She is the most important person in my life and I cannot live without her.

Get to work spot on time for the gym to open but so do about a dozen other people who also want to swim in the "I suck at swimming" end of the pool where my slowpoke self swims. Several had no business in there, should have been in the lanes. So I ended early after only 600 yards.

Then I find the Chronicle linked to another blogger about last night for their front page. So no fun there.

And then I have to do something that makes me feel small and it just makes the day a little harder. Had to call someone because a check went NSF. *Sigh* I suck.

And I have no idea how I will get through the next few months, let along Christmas. It's like I just swing on the trapeze and jump hoping the next one will show up. Then I get to enjoy free fall every few days. Whee!

So. Hopefully a better afternoon.

Churchill's Black Dog

I'm somewhat enamored of Churchill's reference to his depression as the "black dog."

Sometimes it feels like the dog has hold of me and I can't shake it. All the times when I lack the ability to meet the responsibilities of this life...bills, work, love, kindness...I keep wondering when the sham cover of my inadequacies will be blown and when I'll be found out for being the incredibly weak, sad and terrified man I sometimes am in my head. Every day I feel like I just don't have it...I want to turn to my wife and collapse or pray for help and then I know that is not what she or the family needs from me. I need to give them strength and comfort, to never be rattled, to be the tent pole in a family that has been deprived of support for a long time. When I crack, it rattles them because they need me to be the one they can count on.

I want so badly to be the man they need and deserve, but they have chosen so poorly. Most men soldier on under the burdens of their duty and I feel like all I do is whine and feel sorry for myself. I don't know what to do somedays or who to turn to because everyone needs me to be tough and I'm barely up to pretending that is who I am. From my childhood on, when the going got tough, I looked for excuses to quit.

And today, I am always overriding that thought - that it would be so much easier to give up. I can't because people depend on me, because it is my role to be the one who does the jobs I've sought, who is the husband and father, who is, finally, the grown man who takes care of things.

But I fight that voice every day that wants to quit.

And then everyone at work seems to need a father figure, someone to handle basic complexities of work or personal life and I feel buffeted by explosion after explosion.

And I listen to "Carry That Weight" and "Man's Job" and other songs to remind me that I am not alone or unique. That it is my job to deal with this and we all have the fear of our own inadequacies in us.

And then I sit down with Quicken and I want to quit somehow and run away.

And of course I never would, that life is too full and wondrous and I cannot and would not ever do anything so infantile and selfish...but I wish sometimes there was someone who would take the cup from me. And then I am ashamed to even use that term for passing on a sacrifice when that was so complete a sacrifice and I am just being sad and weak.

And last weekend I saw some black dogs like the ones I used to have and love. And my heart broke and I knew i was near tears but once again I had to be better than I am because that weakness is too much to share.

So sometimes, I sit out here by myself and listen to sad music until the black dog's grip subsides and even I get sick of my weakness and I feel the strength come back.

I suppose we all have these moments or days or weeks when we feel weak or lacking. I just wish I was the man my family deserves.

My Last Dane

The death of my last Dane haunts me.

It keeps looping in my head. I know she was in pain and it hurts me that she died in pain.

I know logically that there is truly nothing more I could have done. I keep thinking, "what if I had a bloat kit" or "what if I had just punctured the stomach from her side with a needle" as though my lack of veterinary skill is responsible for her death. In the 10 minutes or so from when we realized something was wrong to when she died, I doubt there was much that an experienced veterinarian could have done for her and I suspect any strategy I would have used would have just caused her more pain and made things even worse.

But still, I feel guilty that I could not save my girl dog. Even though I know she was already doomed from the moment she made that awful retching noise.

Most of the emergencies I have experienced in my life did not have this kind of awful, brutal ending. In fact, most of the emergencies did not really amount to emergencies in the end. No amount of speeding or driving faster would have saved her, but still I wonder if there was some error, some nuance, I missed. I want to find the facts that prove I failed her because I feel I failed her. Should I have driven on sidewalks? Gone further up the freeway and made an exit where I needed it. Honked at people in front of me? Known to throw her in the car before she signaled her distress? I know she died a full five minutes before I got her there. I know even if I had magically gotten her there the second I know there was a problem, precious time would have elapsed getting her from car to door, waiting to be buzzed in, convincing the front desk person to act rather than ask, etc. I know it would have taken a dozen miracles to save her. But it was still my job to save her and I failed.

As I drove to the clinic with her, I had my hand on her and was talking to her in the back seat. I felt her sag and when her bowels evacuated I knew she was gone. But still I hoped, until I pulled her, dead and limp, from the car and laid her out next to the car on the parking lot. I was hoping, I guess, that she might be revived...that there was some last act of heroic veterinary treatment that could be performed...but I knew.

I keep seeing her lying there. I keep seeing the vet tech carrying her off. I keep thinking she cannot possibly be gone.

I failed her somehow. I just have this big empty hole and no dog.

And so again

So, I just ran into a fellow who almost hired me and managed to blow a nice opportunity to visit. I just am too focused on the end goal - I suck at socializing pleasantly and making small talk. I just wish I was a smarter, better person.

How am I going to do better if I can’t stop being the same?

And ran into is a bit of nonsense. I saw where he was and walked past him as though I had just seen him. Bullshit is its own reward I suppose.

yeah

so i really need to stop sucking so much. and maybe provide for my family. find a way to let my wife vent her anger in a constructive way.

Gah

I don’t even know where to start. The horror of my daughter being raped won’t get out of my head. I have moments when I think about other things...even when I laugh and forget for a few seconds, but it’s like a burst of air lifted a tarp off me for a moment and then the blackness of this evil settles back onto my head.

The work thing is stressing beyond comprehension too. I cannot keep up with everything I need to do, I am totally dependent on the good will of a supervisor and a temporary assignment and I live in this brain fog where i cannot seem to ever get enough focus to get done what needs doing. And that carries over into my pathetic performance as father and husband and manager of the household paperwork.

And the finances. I cannot believe how much we spend and I don’t understand why I can’t slow it down.

And then I wonder why I have nearly constant debilitating headaches and why my chest hurts so badly I can’t sleep some nights.

And now. More travel. Yeesh.

Private Journal

Sometimes, it is very hard to maintain a happy face. The repeated rejections in a job search don’t help.