Archives for posts with tag: fail sauce

Tested

April 15, 2020 //
0

So… internet connectivity issues in the 21st century, during a pandemic, while working from home… yeaaaaaaah… so…. wow…

…The world has changed a lot since 2000, hasn’t it?

A couple evenings in a row, we’ve experienced some connectivity challenges. Initially, I soothed my frustration with assumptions that it was, most likely, network bandwidth issues resulting from higher usage during peak hours – after all, my ISP’s status page indicated there were no outages in my area (although, checking the internet showed some consumer self-reporting to the contrary). It got worse, each day beginning a bit earlier, resulting in more frequent interruptions in connectivity, that began to last longer. Each time, resolving itself fully, for a shorter and shorter period of time. I reported it. No resolution, just the usual “did you try unplugging it and plugging back in?” sorts of basic troubleshooting. The next day I tried getting help through chat-based support, and frustrated myself with a fairly terrible customer experience, due to the ISP’s zeal to protect my account security (so, thanks, I guess?) – efforts which sometimes create new challenges because of my TBI. Yeah, that sucked, but apparently there was still “no outage in my area”, and it seemed like our connectivity was back…? Sort of? Mostly?

This morning I awoke and found myself face-to-face with my Traveling Partner’s apparently all night long frustration-journey with the intermittent lack of connectivity having become so severe that it was not possible to connect, which he continued to re-attempt, troubleshoot, and re-attempt some more, without success. His frustration was uncomfortable to be around, but so familiar; frustration is my kryptonite. I get it. What a shitty experience! The longer it goes on, the deeper and more encompassing it gets. Worsening that; all the log-in and authentication details are mine, and there’s never been, previously, any reason for that potential limitation to become a known, obvious, “need to fix this today”, sort of concern. So… he could not simply contact technical support and resolve it with them, himself. (Couldn’t have anyway, since their hours are extremely limited right now, in this time of pandemic; I had to wait until 6:00 am to call.) Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. What a shit experience that had to be for my partner! I only glimpsed those final moments at the ragged edge of his all-night-long frustration, before he yielded to sleep, and left calling technical support in my hands.

Some 90 minutes or so later, after chat support fails me utterly, over-the-phone troubleshooting confirms that some piece of technology outside the house has begun to fail (but still tries to serve), and needs a technician to actually touch it. Repair or replace? Unknown, and to be determined. I feel fortunate that there was an appointment window open tomorrow morning. Working from home, for me (probably for most people), requires a fast FiOS internet connection. No connection? No access to work tools. No ability to authenticate to access those tools if I could access them in the first place. lol I sip my coffee and reach out to my team – instead of enjoying my morning hours. (“Fuck this shit”, I snarl to myself, softly, not wanting to wake my partner with my irritation; I have much to do “in the office”, and this is a valued “get it done” day of the week. Super frustrating. My turn.) I start working on rescheduling what can be rescheduled, and figuring what I can do instead of what I can’t do. I succeed in coordinating with my team. I succeed in moving the one critical meeting that very much needs me to be connected to have any value. So far, so good.

It’s still weird that the only work tool I really have available is my email. I mean… seriously? Still, I can get some things done. That’ll matter tomorrow afternoon, and Friday, when I have to attempt to catch up everything else. 🙂

Finally, I sit down here, and begin to write, even though I already know that with this connectivity challenge, it’ll be the spin of a cosmic roulette wheel determining whether I can save it, and upload it, at any point. I actually feel pretty cut off, which feels pretty weird. If I were out in the trees, I muse, I’d be seeking this experience, and embracing it. Right now, though? It’s a major inconvenience. It tests my patience. Clearly, my Traveling Partner’s patience was also tested. It would be nice to be certain whether or not we “passed”. LOL

“Not connected. Trying in 31s…” I look at the router. Flashing light. Yeah, okay, I get it. I sigh, and make a second coffee.

As I pass through the living room on my way back to my studio, I smile at the books; I’ve got plenty to read. I grin at the aquarium; always something to do, to watch, to enjoy. I frown at my partner’s gaming computer… and my work laptop… It is what it is. Today it is temporary, and will (probably) be resolved tomorrow… but… what if it wasn’t? What if, and this is an unlikely “if” but worth considering, what if it were permanent? What if the internet simply failed. No recovery. No reconnecting. What would life look like without internet… after allowing connectivity to become such a critical piece of 21st century life? I mean, sure, books, games, love-making, conversation, crafts, hobbies, gardens… but… what about online shopping? What about connected gaming – or gaming that requires online authentication to proceed with local play? What about work? What about staying in touch with loved ones. (Do you even remember where you last saw a postage stamp in your home? Do you still have stationary?)

I find myself sitting with these questions, and this coffee, watching the dawn turn to day, and waiting for tomorrow… as if there’s no value in “now”. Weird. I breathe, exhale, relax, and pull myself back to “now”. Present. Awake. Listening to the sounds of life beyond this house – the occasional car goes by. Birds are singing. The otocinclus in the aquarium are contentedly seeking out any remaining algae to munch on. Life is very much still… alive. No connectivity required. I finish my coffee, hit my vape, and begin again.

…I don’t really know what today holds, but there are more ways to be “connected” than the internet. 😀

 

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being

The Phone, the Data, & the Tears

September 20, 2016 //
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I remember my very first smart phone. I was a little overwhelmed, and unsure I had any need for some of what it could do. Over time, I added apps that were useful to me, removed the ones that weren’t. I built bad habits that took my attention away from living people, right along with just about everyone I knew, and then many of us eased up off of that, returning to a more civil, emotionally connected life, engaging with my friends more deeply when we are together, and setting aside the distractions of devices – as much as I can figure out how. Some of us, of course, remain more fully attached to the devices that are so convenient… I did not see myself as one of those people. Then, last night my phone died. Battery ran down unattended in a busy moment during the work day, and peculiarly, efforts to revive it were… ineffective. At least initially. I got it charged, and powered it back on after work and… oh hell. My data is gone.

My data is gone. Well… shit.

Now, frankly, a calm adult “well, shit…” is not how that went down last night. There was a moment of pure panic, some agitated troubleshooting, and then… well, I fought off hysteria and tears, sort of, and vented over email to my traveling partner. That sounds grown-up-ish… right? He phoned immediately; he knows me. The sound of his reassuring voice undid my resolve to hold back the wave of strong emotion, and I fell completely apart – my data is gone!! It felt… personal. It felt terrifying. I felt… unrecognized by my phone. Only… that sounds kind of silly, and it didn’t feel at all silly. It felt entirely terrifying… two weeks of fitness progress… that was what stung most in the moment. He talked me down. Reminded me, rationally, calmly, that the progress itself isn’t in the phone, or the tracker, or a spreadsheet. He talked me through calming breaths. I was okay, and it wasn’t a disaster – however disastrous it felt – and it would be okay. I would just have to start over.

Oh. Right. Begin again. Just begin again. Okay… I can do that. I know to do that. It’s a thing I do. And breathe. I’ll breathe, too, that helps. It helps a lot, the panicked infrequent gulps of air I was surviving on weren’t really helping.

I set up my phone, again, frustrated that wouldn’t restore from the backup, either. My phone is not enjoying the Marshmallow upgrade. It is what it is. Each time I open another app I rely on, and find that my password isn’t saved, my data isn’t there, and the app is functionally fairly useless without being set up all over again I experience another wave of frustration… and grief… and then anger that I’m grieving over data. Then, finally, I let all that go, and let myself sleep.

This morning my phone is just a phone. There are no tears. The anger, the hysteria, the sense that all is lost, have dissipated in the night. It’s convenient to have a phone that has GPS and email. This one is no longer my ‘back up brain’ and I am once more painfully aware why there is still value in hardbound books, handwritten letters, and moments of conversation with friends face to face; data lacks substance. Data is easily lost. Data can be destroyed. Data is not memory. Data is not living. Data, most importantly, is not identity. Hell… much of what I consider to identify me, doesn’t really. So much of it is changeable or arbitrary. I find myself back to the question lingering in my thoughts recently, “who am I?”… I know one thing with fair certainty, I am not a phone. 🙂

I’m still irritated every time I look at the fucking thing. (This too will pass.)

I sip my coffee thinking, for a time, of all the ways in which I may suffer if suddenly – for example – there were a global power failure, and just… nothing that operates on electricity. Well, that’s the most catastrophic loss of data I can imagine, honestly, so that’s where my thoughts go. I’d be okay, for most values of okay, and the data itself would be far from my first concern. When did our data become so important? When did my phone become such a powerful presence in my experience – hell, for that matter, when did it become a fucking “presence”?? There are things to consider here, and one of them is untethering my self from my phone more completely. Maybe starting with my camera… It’s something to consider.

Some of life’s curriculum is disruptive and painful. (Some of it only feels that way.)  Only a very small portion is catastrophic, and few of us ever know real catastrophe, and then only rarely – my phone’s untimely demise definitely does not count among life’s catastrophic events. I woke feeling grateful for a supportive partner, willing and able to help me keep things in perspective. I woke feeling grateful to be working again, and for the resources to repair or replace things of value when they fail. I woke feeling grateful that my own fleeting memory, however it may fail me, is “built-in” and doing a pretty splendid job, generally. I woke feeling grateful that my experience is still my experience, and feeling grateful to be without pain. I am okay right now… and a phone is just a phone.

Well, sure. This.

Well, sure. This.

Today is a good day for perspective, and a good day for gratitude. Today is a good day to put down the phone. 🙂

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, grief, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Art of Being

Can I Have Mine With the Fail Sauce on the Side, Please?

September 26, 2015 //
2

I woke smiling this morning, although in pain, and feeling light-hearted, balanced, and calm. This would seem almost commonplace, except that last night, at the end of a wonderful evening with my traveling partner, some particular turn of phrase, repeated several times in conversation in relatively quick succession, triggered my PTSD symptoms. My emotions quickly spiraled out of control, and somewhen in the midst of it, I directed my dear love to go, to leave, to walk on…and found myself alone and crying; he respected my boundaries, which sucked then, but this morning it is something I cherish. I can count on him so utterly.

p.s. I love you.

p.s. I love you.

He phoned me after he left, upset and concerned. He pointed out my symptoms (because I am not always aware that I am interacting with some other experience). We talked.  Afterward, I took time to meditate. I calmed and soothed myself – relying on emotional resilience and self-sufficiency that I am building over time through all manner of practices (like meditation). I reflected later on what went down, and how and why. Moments like last night are outstanding for monitoring growth and progress – but they still suck completely and entirely. I emailed him an unreserved heartfelt apology, making no excuses for my behavior (let’s be real here, it’s been much much worse in the past, and that’s not relevant to treating someone I love badly now!), which was uncomfortable for both of us, and unpleasantly emotional. I was already over it such that I could also express gratitude and appreciation for what he was attempting to discuss and help me with, and I had taken time to follow up on our shared concern and the practical relevant details… like a grown up. 🙂

I made a note for myself to follow up later on developing more effective ways to gently communicate that some particular detail, phrase, approach, or behavior has the potential to trigger me – not in the hope of having it avoided, but because in real life these things come up, and one by one I must move past them, for my own emotional well-being, and as a loving investment in my relationships, and wouldn’t it be nice once in a while to just say ‘Oh hey, could you rephrase that one this time? I’m still working on that and I’ve got some challenges with that verbiage’. It takes time, but I no longer view improving on these things as unachievable; I may have some measure of PTSD for the rest of my life, but there is nothing about that which suggests I can’t continue to improve, to grow, and to become the woman I want most to be.

We've all got some baggage.

We’ve all got some baggage.

When my traveling partner had gone, and I was sifting through my chaos and damage, it was quickly very clear that the entire problematic exchange wasn’t at all about or with him (or us) in any way at all; I could feel my violent first husband standing in the room with me. It was an eye-opening moment to be so able to clearly sense the anachronistic miasma of ancient fear and pain. It was also part of what allowed me to move past the moment – and my symptoms – so quickly last night, once I was alone. I could really feel that it didn’t source in my real experience of the moment in any way at all. I had been triggered – and I don’t mean mainstream press too-pc-for-adulthood-don’t-say-things-I-find-discomfiting- “triggered”*.  I mean no bullshit, I was having a post-traumatic stress flashback. Generally, in the past I have had no way of clearly discerning that such is the case until well afterward. This is growth. I don’t know what to do with it, but it is very promising, anyway. I haven’t had a flash back in a long while (months, and well before I moved into my own place, back in March).

Every moment of growth is as a rainbow in a stormy sky; a promise of better things.

Every moment of growth is as a rainbow in a stormy sky; a promise of better things.

Last night – and a couple of times early in the day – I was having a strange very severe headache in a weird location, that throbbed with a deep dull nauseating ache that pulsed every 10-15 seconds or so. I’ve no idea if it was related, causal, or worth consider a serious concern… except that any headache that is unusual is also of great concern for someone with a TBI and a family history of stroke. This morning I made a point of emailing my physician to make note of the headache, and ask if I should make an appointment. I haven’t felt it yet today, so perhaps it was just a headache.

Today I'm not making this complicated.

Today I’m not making this complicated.

I am okay right now. Love is okay right now. Human beings persist in being human, and life offers opportunities to learn, to fail, to grow, and to connect our hearts through what is difficult more often than through what is easy. It’s worth becoming skilled at managing my worst moments more skillfully; I can count on most of the best moments to take care of themselves.

It helps to have the right tool for the job.

It helps to have the right tool for the job…

Today is a good day to practice good practices. Today is a good day to take care of me – and to take care of love. Today is a good day for listening deeply, and connecting honestly. Today is a good day for authenticity and vulnerability. Today is a good day to say thank you, when love shoulders the heavy load my post-traumatic stress carries every day. Today is a good day to walk on, and enjoy blue skies. I am okay right now. 🙂

...and perhaps a change of perspective.

…and perhaps a change of perspective.

It's a journey. Each step I take is my own.

It’s a journey. Each step I take is my own.

*Just an afterthought…Can I just say that I find it damned inconvenient that people have undermined the value and meaning of the word ‘triggered‘ by diluting it for their everyday over-sensitivity or bad-tempered moments? For someone with post-traumatic stress the experience of having symptoms triggered is not a mildly uncomfortable moment, or inconvenience – it’s a pretty big deal, associated with brain chemistry, volatility, mood, physical experiences, and isn’t something that can be easily turned away from or ‘managed’. By mis-using the word to cover feeling uncomfortable to read the ‘fuck’ in a news article, or because a moment of provocation caused a bit of temper, people who really need to express an experience are robbed the language to do so. Knock it off – go find your own words. Seriously. There’s a big difference between being a bad-tempered over-sensitive little bitch, and being having one’s post-traumatic stress triggered – trust me, I’ve had both experiences, and I’m pretty clear on the difference. 🙂

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Categories Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, grief, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words