Someday Syndrome

Facing Real Fear

Have you ever said "I've never been so scared in my life!"? Have you ever really meant it?

Today I said it and meant it.

At my current placement, two other volunteers (a couple) arrived on Wednesday. They seemed great, maybe a bit militant about their vegetarianism and no drinking, but hey, to each their own.

Then yesterday the guy started drinking and kept drinking right through the night and into the morning. The owner of the house was away, but when she got back today, she saw right away that he was drunk. She gave him a choice: stop and stay, or leave. She then had to go to work.

Of course, he did not stop drinking, and got slowly more aggressive. About 6 o'clock when I was going for a walk I asked the woman if she wanted to go with me to take a break from him. He accused me of trying to take his woman. I said "but I'm gay!" He said that didn't matter and raised a bottle of brandy at me.

At this point, I wasn't at all scared. I was right royally pissed off. I calmly but firmly said "No." as I pointed at the bottle. He lowered it and I went for my walk. When I got back he apologized. After dinner, I went up to my room to relax. Then I heard fighting. A little while later the woman came in to talk. She was crying and needed company.

Of course I wanted to stay as uninvolved as possible, so I simply sat beside her handing out tissues. He then came in, fully belligerent. She took him out of the room. I closed my door. I then heard her scream. I immediately called the owner of the house who said she would come right home.

As I waited, I heard the couple fought on and off. Then it was my turn. He didn't attack me verbally or physically. But you know those scenes in movies where a hostage is sitting with a killer? The hostage knows to stay calm and not to look in the killer's eyes, but at the same time, has to keep conversation going calmly to keep him from doing something stupid. I did, however, stand my ground, refusing to be cowed by this man. He seemed to respect that and kept his distance.

When he hit her again (I could hear it, not see it), I called the owner back then sat on my bed with my door open. I wouldn't get involved, but I'm a decent human being. There was no way I was going to let him really hurt her. I had no idea what I could have done, but I hoped my presence at least would keep him slightly calmer.

By this point, I was trembling. I have the honest belief that people are good. It shakes me to the core when I see the results of very bad choices. I know that alcoholism is a disease and that people suffering from it have a very hard time controlling it, but I do also believe that we have a choice in everything. The choices might not be easy, but they are usually simple.

Then woman came out of the bedroom and I asked (since I had a cell) whether I should call the police. He came out of the room and came at me. I just barely got the door shut in time. I don't know if he was attacking or just approaching, but my shutting the door pissed him off and I barely got the door closed. I then wedged myself in between the door and the dresser and waited for the homeowner to come back. This was the point at which the terror hit.

She got home and very calmly but firmly told him that he had two choices. He could go to sleep and stay in the bedroom until morning when they would talk, or she could call the police. Surprisingly he chose the bed option (some small level of self-preservation still exists). As the homeowner consoled the woman, I put some water on for sweet tea, then walked down the driveway out of earshot, sat down on the gravel and quietly had a panic attack.

Everything now seems fine. The homeowner is just so calmly in control that I feel quite safe now (the sweet chamomile tea really helped).

And being me, my sense of humour was fully operating throughout this ordeal. As I was wedged against the door, in my mind I was evaluating things like the thickness of the door and the strength of the knives in the kitchen. A creepy soundtrack ran through my head as I sat in my bedroom with the guy as tried to bully me.

I even considered that when I die, I'll probably be chuckling about something.

As an added bonus, this experience will be good fodder for my writing. I have now experienced real fear. When I have a character up against something terrifying, I will know how they might react.

Someday Lessons

• Sometimes choices are taken away from you. Stay calm and panic after,
• A sense of humour will see you through anything, seriously.

P.S. If he doesn't leave tomorrow, I am. I'm not about to gamble with my safety.

I Just Don't Get People

Sometimes horrible things interrupt my comfy life and they really upset me. They also block out all other thoughts.
Last night on the news I heard about the shootings at the American university and was absolutely horrified. I was immediately reminded of the Montreal Massacre in 1989, and the wars for oil and the religious conflicts and....

Every time I've gone to do any writing since hearing about it, I can't think of anything else. So sorry, no witty blog entry or pithy Someday Lessons.

Instead you're getting a rant about how absolutely rotten people are to each other. I grew up in a time when there were few active wars, where healthcare and education were supported by government and where murders and deaths and government sanctioned torture were at least a little lighter than past and present times.

As a Gen-Xer, I've led a pretty privileged life and I wonder whether my upbringing was a blip in the real state of affairs. If you look at human history, most of it has been filled with violence and self-inflicted horror.

Riding the train of thoughts of course just leads to feelings of pointlessness and futility, so I'm going to stop now.

Time to go back to gardening and editing my novel, trying to make the small piece of the world in which I exist a calm peaceful place for me and those around me.

Easy to be Negative

Why do most people find it easier to be negative than positive?

I've been doing some critiques of other authors' writing and getting some critiques on my own work.

After struggling to come up with one or two positive things to say (other than I enjoyed it), I got right into critiquing each short story offering ways to improve it. And the same with my own piece. I had to seriously set aside any ego before reading some of the comments.

I wonder why that is? Is it conditioning? Culturally we don't want people to "get above themselves" so we make sure to bring them down to earth?

Gretchen Rubin, over at The Happiness Project, talks about this. She frames it within the context of a study of how people over indulge after practicing self-restraint. She then compares it to her tendency to be snippy after holding back on a not-nice comment.

I'm writing this on the eve of driving down to Tarragona to spend the weekend with my Rompot, and my thoughts are leaning towards the negative. I wouldn't have been surprised at any point during the past two weeks if he had pulled out of the visit. When he announced today that he had a cold, I was convinced I wasn't going to go.

But then he told me to ignore his cold. It sucked, but he wanted to see me. I was slightly surprised. It has nothing to do with self image and self worth. If he had bailed, it so would have been his loss. It has more to do with not expecting much from other people.

And that's kind of sad, don't you think?

Someday Lessons:

• We all need to be aware of a cultural tendency to damn rather than praise ourselves and others.
• Be on guard for negative thoughts. They can slip in even when we think we're happy.

Now That's Vitriol

So, I came across this article in the Toronto Star today, which led me to my colleague Monica Ricci's post about the book in question (first chapter is here).

All I can say is: Wow! These men writing this book are bitter!

I find it very telling, however, that the two people writing the book are men. If you talk to most organizers, a great many of the clients in the residential market are women. And why? Because unfortunately women still bear the brunt of home organization, even if they work as much as or more than their spouses.

The funny thing about what I've read about this book (I'm certainly not going to support them by buying it!), is that many of the concepts they talk about are the exact things organizers support. For example, if you're happy with your mess, then it's not a mess. Or sometimes you can be too organized to the point that life is disrupted. Those are two things every organizer I've ever talked to in the US, Canada and Europe believes in.

I am appalled at how poorly researched this book was and wonder if it was published because it's inflammatory and controversial.

Whatever the reason, it's a very negative and damaging book, not just to the organizing industry but to those who are unhappy with the state of disorganization in their lives and want help.

Someday Lessons:

• Negativity and trash-talking might sell books and papers, but it never actually helps anyone in the long run.
• If you find yourself being negative ask yourself what is the real issue. You'll find it's likely not the thing you're being negative about.

Pushing My Limits

It's very easy to say that most things don't really matter. That they aren't life and death, so whether they get done or not isn't really important.

In fact, when life is really hectic, it's a very good thing to say that.

But when life isn't hectic, that attitude means nothing gets done.

Take my writing for example. I've talked before about how I'm writing a novel. I took up the challenge offered by an organization called NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). The challenge is to write 50,000 words in a month. Initially since I started late (on November 5th), I decided to give myself until December 5th to reach the 50K goal. Then when I was procrastinating about writing I decided that anything over 20K was great because I'd never written that much on a single project every before. I was already a winner.

Then today I changed my mind. I have until Thursday at midnight to write 20,000 words. So far today I've written 4500 and will write some more before I go to bed. I've now surpassed my highest single-day record.

But suddenly that's not enough. I have a goal and I'm going to try my hardest to reach it, the 50K. I won't beat myself up if I don't make the mark, but I'll be damn proud of myself for trying.

I've never been much of a try hard type. School was easy for me. I never pushed myself. I did well enough. Then my early career bored me, no real effort there. Then my own business. Wow! Wait! I have to what? Work hard? Without guaranteed success? Hmm… I didn't like that idea.

Now this. Writing a novel. Something I never thought I had the drive or patience to do. And I wouldn't have if it hadn't have been for NaNoWriMo and this 50K challenge. I feel that I'm nearing a break through, finding a limit on my work ethic and pushing past it. And I'm loving it rather than resisting it. I feel that if I can make the goal, or even get close to it, I'll be able to continue on. It's exhausting but so rewarding.

I'll keep you posted on my progress.

Someday Lessons:

• When you're not passionate about something it's very hard to push yourself to get it done.
• Don't be lazy, challenge yourself and make sure others know what your challenge is.

Lunch Today:
Chickpea and Avocado dip with green peppers and rye crackers.

Mildly Chilled by Fear

I've been procrastinating about today's entry. I went for a walk, hung out with my cousins, watched TV, did some volunteer planning, talked online and on the phone. I even considered cleaning! All because I'm afraid that if I write this entry, and voice my fears, they'll come true.

I'm afraid that I won't finish my new fiction project. I've never completed a large writing project before. I've always relied on my writing partner to make me commit myself through to the end. For the past four days I've written on this project, but now inspiration is mostly done with and I'm heading into perspiration – the boring, mundane part.

The thing is, I love this story idea and I totally want to see it through. But for over two decades I've never year finished a project like this. That's not a good track record.

I'm doing my best to ignore the past and have taken steps to change the usual outcome. Normally I edit as I go, writing a piece, editing it until I think it's as good as it could get, then I attempt the next piece in sequence. The problem is, I've let the editor come and to play and he doesn't want to go back inside. He likes critiquing my work, even before I set it down on paper. So, nothing comes out and I give up, bored with the project because I'm not actually producing.

This time, however, I'm keeping the editor firmly locked inside my head. I'm allowing myself to write crap, just as long as I'm writing and moving the story forward. This book is now my job, so from Monday to Friday each day, I must produce at least 1500 words (I know that doesn't sound like much, but that took me all day Thursday to get done).

My goal is to have the first draft done by December (just in time for me to start the first draft of the planned Someday Syndrome book). But I'm scared that I'll run out of ideas, that I'll get too bored, that my writing will deteriorate as I go, choosing cliché over real substance, that I'll yadda yadda yadda…

The only way to know for sure is to just keep moving forward. I will or I won't finish it. Right now all that matters is that I keep on writing.

Someday Lessons:

• Fear is a powerful disincentive; acknowledge it and keep going anyway.
• Don't let past actions rule outcomes in present or the future.

Lunch Today:
Leftover Steak Quesadillas

A Confession or Two

I have a confession to make. I'm not really that optimistic. I'm actually quite a doomsayer at times. I try to talk myself out of it by being hyper-positive.

For example, last Thursday I got home from my morning shopping to find that I had a registered letter waiting at the post office. So off I trotted curious what it could be. No luck; the mail carrier was still out. I'd have to wait until after lunch to pick it up.

At that point I went from curious to worried. I wasn't expecting anything from anyone. And usually registered mail is used for legal stuff.

Legal stuff – like notices of legal proceedings.

Oh no! Something must have gone wrong after the accident. The car repairs were significantly higher. Or worse, someone discovered major neck or back damage.

Suddenly I was in full panic mode!

I considered the possibility that the letter was a refund cheque for the repairs. The family had told me that if the actual repair costs were much less than the amount I had given them, they'd mail me a cheque. But I dismissed it. No. I was being sued. I thought about fleeing France, but I was sure Canada and France had an extradition treaty.

I whined that it wasn't fair. It was only a mistake. I'm not normally a reckless guy! Then, I accepted it. If someone was seriously hurt, I needed to take responsibility for it, whether that meant jail time or monthly payments for the rest of my life.

I thought about calling my mom. I thought about finding a lawyer. I thought about not waiting the two hours and calling the family to ask. I was halfway through dialing when I remembered that this accident was supposed to have taught me patience.

So I did the only thing I could do in this instance. I hung up the phone and had a nap.

Waking up at 2:15, I walked over to the post office wanting to vomit. I submitted my notice and with a shaky hand I showed the woman behind the counter my ID (which she totally ignored knowing full well who I was – the new Canadian in town). She went and got the letter which turned out to be from British Rail.

The friend who was arriving that night had her Eurail Pass shipped to me for the next leg of her trip.

All that panic for nothing!

Now here's the real confession – I revelled in every moment of that panic.

Someday Lessons:

• Until you know the situation have patience and do nothing.
• Doom and gloom can be just as much fun to experience as more positive emotions.

Lunch Today:
Croque Monsieur and Simple Cucumber Salad