Learning by doing

Today it is suddenly clear to me that living well is a skill that can only really be learned by doing, just like any other physical or mental skill.

I would never expect to learn how to tango, or weld, or write a speech just from reading a book (much less an article on the internet). I know that learning these skills takes practice, in order to learn all the parts that cannot be put into words and to commit the necessary reflexes and instincts to memory.

So why do I keep thinking that I can learn how to live by reading? That understanding a lesson on the page is the same as understanding it through experience? Why am I surprised that I keep coming back to the same lessons again and again, though I'd thought I'd understood them already?

Another lesson learned, and I hope that I've learned this one as a feeling in my bones, and not just as words in my head. And, as so many times before, I find myself coming back to one of the most basic lessons of all: patience.

Really, I am very scared

Sometimes, for a while, I forget, and everything is wonderful. I think anything is possible. I dream big dreams and believe in them. I see myself as capable, special, with something to offer.

And then a crack appears. Something feels off; I investigate; the floodgates open and all my fear crashes down on me at once. And it is a lot. It is overwhelming.

I fear I have made the wrong decisions and am making the wrong decisions now. I fear I will not reach any of my dreams, because they are unrealistic fantasies. I fear that I am useless, irredeemably flawed, pitiful and laughable and disappointing. I fear I will be judged and found unworthy, because I am.

And then, the worst of it passes, and I am left behind, washed up and exhausted. And I stand up again because, what else is there to do? And as the immediate memory passes, I start to forget my fear and dream again, setting myself up for the next fall.

Is there another way?

I could live a normal life, be an average member of society, seek the protection of familiarity and the group. In the past I did not understand the strength of protection offered by normalcy; safe on a path trod before me by many others, I scorned the idea of safety. Now that I am off any clear path, I understand the appeal of being normal; oh how I understand. But some stubbornness within me compels me forward. I will not go back to the safe path yet.

So I read about people who have led strange, different lives, and I look for hints on how they deal and have dealt with their fear. So far, I have found no secrets. Perhaps there aren't any. Perhaps there is no other way, and I will keep getting battered by my fear again and again. And yet, the stupidly hopeful part of me hopes otherwise: that I will get stronger and more armored over time, or that I will learn somehow to float above the fear, aware of it but not sinking down.

We shall see.

Seeing life as a journey, not a list of goals

Less than two weeks into the new year, and already I've screwed up on one of my goals: I didn't write anything on here last week. So what now?

My first instinct is to be disappointed in myself. The old me would have said, "I've failed! I'm rubbish! I had a clear metric of what I had to do to succeed, and I didn't do it. What's the point of a goal I don't accomplish? How can I be happy if I don't accomplish what I set out to do?"

But this is the kind of thinking that made me depressed, the kind of thinking that I've been trying to exchange for something more positive, that will help me up instead of grinding me down. So I took a moment to ask: what do I actually want from life?

What I realized is that I want to approach my life the way I approach a hike, or a trip: as a journey, an experience, much more than just a list of goals accomplished. Accomplishing a worthwhile goal is great, it is satisfying, and it is something to be proud of - but in between those moments there is so much good stuff, and so much that is unexpected! And so what I am after is a whole adventure, twists and turns and struggles and setbacks and all, not a tidy list of checked-off boxes.

So, from that perspective, what is the point of a goal?
     To give me a direction, a landmark to head towards.

And how can I be happy if I don't accomplish one of my goals?
    By realizing that the journey is more important than any single goal, and that my aim is fundamentally just to keep moving forward and learning.

In the context of my blog: the truth is, right now, a blog post per week is not a trivial goal. I am still scared of writing, and overwhelmed by it, and I still don't know what environment or routines best help me write. I still don't know where this blog is headed, what it should and shouldn't include, how often I want to post, or if I should have a blog at all! It's no surprise that I faltered. But I'm still here, still brainstorming ideas for posts, still learning, still doing my best to move forward. So I think I'm doing just fine, after all.

For the first time in my life, new year's goals

For the first time in my life, I'm setting goals for the new year.

New Year's was always just another holiday for me: an excuse for a party, with a few traditions. Mostly it meant buying a new planner, and having trouble writing the correct year for a while. Sometimes I tried to make resolutions, halfheartedly, because it was something other people did, but I never really took them seriously.

Looking back now, I see that it was because school/work was always my highest priority, and so I always had a goal in my mind already: get good grades; get into a good university; be a good student; get into a good PhD program; get my PhD; get a postdoc position where I can do my own research; be a good scientist. Everything else was extra, low priority. (None of this was quite conscious - if you had asked me, I would have said something vague about wanting to be happy. But when I made decisions, school and work always won out over other things.) At the end of each year, I knew where I was headed next, I had a goal, and I wasn't really looking to change anything in how I lived my life.

This year is different! For the first time, I don't have much of a plan for what's coming next. I have no idea what I'll be doing in a year, or even where I'll live. It's scary and exciting. It's an actual new beginning. And for the first time, it feels right to me to set goals for the year to come.

So here goes.

Broad aims for this year:

1. Healing. I'm going to continue working on accepting myself, being kind to myself, and giving myself space and time to heal from years of telling myself what I should be and what I should be doing. By the end of the year, I would love to feel like I know and am proud of who I am.

2. Doing. I have a lot of dreams and ideas that have been sitting around and waiting because I've been scared of failure or unable to choose where to start. This year I'm going to stop dithering and do as much trying, failing, and learning as I can.

And some specific goals I'll try to follow:

1. Drawing every day. To improve technically, learn to deal with artistic insecurity, and figure out what my deal is with art (do I want to do it to earn money, be great, get recognition? or just for the pure enjoyment of it?).

2. A blog post every week. To improve technically, stop being scared, figure out if I really want to be a writer, and help myself learn and think.

3. One main project each month, and no more. With all those dreams and ideas, I get overwhelmed easily. I need to focus, but I also need to switch from project to project so I don't get bored. This is just another attempt to organize myself in a long line of (mostly failed) attempts, but I am still hopeful that it will work!

A new year, a new me. I'm looking forward to it.

Golden memories and unreasonable expectations

Often, when I'm not feeling so great, I start to wish that I would have everything sorted out and under control, and that I could just be happy and content and everything would be easy.

And sometimes I think back to a time that, from my current vantage point, seems like it was like that. When I was in university, or when I worked in Utah for a few months, or when I went to Crete on holiday with friends. I remember the sunshine, the happy moments, the relaxed moments, and it's like a video or photo where the light is golden and everything looks beautiful and perfect.

And I think, I want that. I want to feel like that right now. And I feel frustrated, that instead I am lost in my todo lists and chores and weird dreams from the night before, and the sad drama we watched on TV last night, and all sorts of uncertainties and fears. 

I think what I need to remember is that those golden times must have been the same. When I try, I remember too the times of lovesick anguish, social awkwardness, exhaustion, boredom, fear, overwhelm, and frustration. My journals are full of them. It's easy to dwell on the lovely times and pass over the harder times.

So maybe I never will reach that golden time I hope for, "when I figure stuff out and start to be properly happy." Maybe there's just the here and now, with its ups and downs, pains and joys. It sounds sad, but it feels freeing to accept. Maybe if I stop being disappointed that life isn't easier, I'll find the contentment that I'm looking for.

A nice mentor is not necessarily a good mentor

Today I wanted to do a book review, but an innocent call from a member of my postdoc lab led to a small storm of emotion and I'm a bit too jumbled up to write about anything other than my postdoc.

I'm still working through how I feel about my postdoc. It's a mix of shame, frustration, anger, and exhaustion. It didn't go how I wanted. There's a lot more I could say. Today I just want to issue a small warning to young scientists looking for somewhere to do an MSc, PhD, or a postdoc, or anyone looking for a mentor.

It's simple: a nice mentor is not necessarily a good one.

A nice person can still be too overwhelmed by other responsibilities to remember you unless you remind them that you're there. A nice person can still support you in applying for a project that they will later show little interest in. A nice person can still promise to do things for you and then drop the ball, over and over again. A nice person can still consistently put their own priorities ahead of yours.

I understand that it's hard to lead a lab, hard to be a mentor, and hard to be an academic in this day and age. I empathize, and at the same time I am angry, at them for not trying harder and at myself for taking so long to understand this simple lesson.

So there we go. A vent for me and a warning for you.

I'm going to try to stop expecting happiness

I haven't given up on being happy, or anything like that. I've just realized that, once again, I am getting in my own way by having too-high expectations for myself.

In this case, the unreasonable expectation is that I will be happy all the time. Content, satisfied, joyous, all of that. Maybe I've read too many websites, blog posts, and articles about how to be happy, or maybe I've just approached the goal of getting out of depression in my usual extra-high-achieving way. Either way, it's a problem, because happiness is not so straightforward, at least not when you're struggling with depression.

What I've realized is that for me right now happiness is like my black cat Miša (Misha). If I chase after her, she runs away; I can often grab her if I'm quick, but she won't be interested in staying. On the other hand, if I sit quietly, she'll come settle in my lap and fall asleep. She's not always at my side - she comes and goes following her own cat schedule - but if I let her be, she'll spend most of her day hanging out near me of her own accord.

I've been getting frustrated at not being happy all the time, and thinking that I must be doing things wrong: that I must not be happy because I'm not following a consistent routine, because I'm not doing enough exercise, because I'm getting up late every day, because some days I don't get dressed or do anything useful. So I've been pushing at myself all the time to do better, try harder, find the trick to make myself happy.

Now I think that I've been going at it all wrong. Why have I been expecting myself to be happy all the time? The more I think about it, the less I think that's a reasonable expectation for anyone, much less someone still figuring out depression.

So what's the plan now? To live, and be grateful for the good feelings that I have - feeling comfortable, feeling safe, feeling warm, feeling free - and do my best to accept the harder feelings that I'm dealing with - feeling uncertain, feeling insecure, feeling afraid. And when, out of the blue, I find that I am happy, to enjoy it while it lasts, but not try to hold on. And definitely, definitely not to beat myself up for not being happy!

note: Part of the thinking process that led to this post was started off by this article by Glennon Melton called Don't Carpe Diem that I found super insightful (especially because it uses mountaineering as a metaphor for life!). I recommend it.

On realizing that it is not helpful to obsessively think over things I want to do

Many of my important realizations are super obvious in hindsight. It's not so strange; scientific progress often works in the same way. I guess it makes sense - once the pieces come together, the insight crystallizes, it's hard to imagine it any other way. Another way of looking at it is that it's hard to have any perspective when you're trying to figure out your own mind, with the same mind. Objectivity is hard to find. Common sense doesn't always work like it should.

All of which is a long introduction to what seems to me now a very obvious realization: spending my free moments thinking through tasks on my todo list is a waste of my life, and a big part of why I've felt so overwhelmed by my todo list all the time.

So why was I doing this? I think it started as a way to feel in control, on top of things ... and got to be a habit for filling in otherwise free brain time. And then it got to be so much of a habit that I didn't even notice myself doing it.

I'm surprised I even noticed now. Maybe my slower pace of life at the moment is helping, or the fact that I've started meditating again. What I do know is that a few nights ago, as I was lying in bed, waiting to fall asleep, I realized that I didn't need to think through what I should do the next day. A revelation!

So now, when I notice myself mentally idling by going over things I could do, want to do, or feel that I should do, I tell myself, "Stop. Don't worry - what needs to get done, will get done. You write things down. You won't forget. And everything else - it's not as important as finding calm and being happy in this moment, and the next moment. The only reason you want to do those other things is because somehow, you think they will make you happy. But you don't need them to be happy! Just be in this moment, right now. And trust that you will fill your time well each day, even without a complicated scheduling system or a todo list constantly looking at you. Have faith in yourself. Let go."

Over and over again, the answer is patience

I used to think I was patient: I don't mind waiting at a doctor's office; I like lots of repetitive, mindless tasks, like shelling beans; I like slow movies, slow books, slow stories.

But now I've noticed that when I can't see the end - when I don't even know if I can reach the end I'm striving for - I'm impatient to the max. I want to be healthy, I want to understand myself, I want to do good, and I worry that I should be all of that already, right now. I want to know how to live my life, and I want to know now.

Today the big uncertainty revolving through my mind is how to balance enjoying life with doing good. How do I decide how much effort to devote to each? How good a life do I deserve? Is it right to indulge in luxuries when I could donate the money that pays for them to so many worthy causes instead? Is it even possible to figure out a balance?

I've worried about this before and I've looked for answers in books, articles, documentaries. So far I haven't found any. All I've found is individual, all-too-incomplete stories of other people's lives. Some sacrificed themselves for their work; some didn't.

Obviously there is no simple, one-size-fits-all answer. And from my struggles to figure this question out, it's clear that there is no easy answer just for me, either. For now, I have to accept that life comes with tough questions, like this one, that I may never solve. And that the best I can do is be patient, keep trying to figure things out, and struggle along - until one day, if I'm lucky, I realize that I'm living as I want to live.

My story, version 1

I always like to know more about the people behind the blogs that I read - for that matter, I always like to hear people's life stories. So here is mine - one side of it, at least.

I am always at a bit of a loss when someone asks me where I'm from. 

The simple answer is that I'm American - though I didn't feel American until I moved abroad, and when I go back to the U. S. now I'm hit with a culture shock every time.

In any case, the simple answer often isn't enough. To begin with, I have this odd foreign name - Yael - that troubles most people I meet. Even if they are capable of pronouncing it just fine, the Y (missing from many alphabets, or rarely used) tends to throw people off. "What an interesting name," they say inquiringly, and I complicate matters by answering, "It's Hebrew."

If there's time, I expand. I speak Hebrew with my parents and brother. My mom is from Israel - in fact, I was born there too. My parents moved to the U. S. when I was a year and a half old, thinking they would move back after a few years after my mom's business picked up. It didn't. They stayed. No, my dad is not from Israel - he's from Mexico. 

At this point, some (usually the older ladies) say, "Ah! Of course! You look like you have Mexican blood!" And I feel obligated to explain that, well, yes I have a few generations of Mexican blood behind me, but before that it's all European. My olive skin, as far as I know, has nothing to do with indigenous Americans. My father's family, like my mother's, is Jewish and came from Eastern Europe. My skin, my hair, my eyes, and my last name are Slavic. And yet, as I take pains to explain to those who get confused at this point, my father is one hundred percent Mexican, and so were his parents. 

There are more details of course, and as it turns out, more countries in the mix. My dad's side came to Mexico from Poland and Russia. My mom's parents came to Israel via complicated paths that I always confuse - I just know that Hungary, Luxembourg, Slovakia, Ukraine, and Spain are involved. One day I will learn more and finally remember my own ancestry properly.

And then there's the story of how I ended up living in Europe, how I ended up with a Slovenian husband, and where I'm going next ... but that is for another day! For now, it will suffice to say that yes, I am American - and at the same time Mexican, Israeli, and Jewish, as well as a traveler trying to be a global citizen, with my head often in the clouds or in a book. 

Feeling overwhelmed

For me, one of the most difficult troubles I have in my day-to-day is feeling overwhelmed. It makes me not want to do anything; it makes me want to lie down, hide, lose myself in a book or TV or a film or the internet.

There are some little things I have tried to keep myself from feeling overwhelmed: to do lists, a daily schedule, starting the day with a treat like tea or a hot shower. They often help. But as I wrote yesterday, I'm thinking now that tricks like these, by their nature, are never going to be complete solutions.

I also have some strategies for addressing the problem of overwhelm in a deeper way. I am trying to let go of tasks that are on my list because I feel that I should do them, rather than because I need to do them or want to do them. I am trying to be more patient, to accept that progress takes time, and to expect less from myself each day. I am trying to focus on my top priorities, and to accept that there's only so much I can work on, or learn, or improve in myself at any one time. And I am trying to build more time into each day for resting, for quiet, and for being kind to myself.

Everything is helping, at least some of the time - the little tricks, the introspection, the attempt to live my life more slowly and in a more considered way. And yet, I still have so many difficult mornings, when getting up and starting my day seems so, so hard. When I go back to sleep even though I've slept more than enough, just because it's cozy in bed, and safe, and the idea of starting my day feels too big to deal with. So what now?

Now I think that, perhaps, this overwhelm is just a part of going through big changes, like the fear, insecurity, and vulnerability that are hanging around too. Now I think that, perhaps, sometimes, there is no solution, except to keep moving forward, and to have faith that things will get better. So that is what I am going to do. I am going to accept that I feel overwhelmed sometimes. I'm deciding that it's okay. I am going to be kind to myself, and let myself stay in bed each morning for another hour or two if that's what it takes, and not feel bad about it. And most importantly, I'm going to keep moving toward my dreams, one little step at a time, with faith that things will keep getting better, and that everything will be okay.

Turning away from tips and tricks

Tips and tricks are everywhere on the internet, in the media, in suggestions from friends. They're quick, they're tempting, they're seductive. And for some things, details of ordinary life, they're great. White vinegar and baking soda really do do a great job of cleaning sinks and faucets. I really have gotten great curls by sleeping with wet hair wrapped around a headband. And I've learned some excellent and easy methods for making paper flowers and other party decorations. But for the big things, the important things, the difficult things, tips and tricks are deceptive, distracting, and harmful.

I've gotten sucked in so many times, spent so many hours reading blogs, hoping that one of the magic-sounding tricks would make a difference. "5 Ways to Find Calm When You're Stressed." "10 Secrets to Eating Healthy." "How to Increase Your Productivity Instantly." Most of the time, the suggestions make sense. They're not bad. But they didn't work for me. I didn't stick to them, or they didn't help when I tried them, or I forgot about them immediately. And I never stopped to think much about it.

Now I'm starting to see real changes in my life and in myself, and it's suddenly become clear that none of these changes have anything to do with tips and tricks. I've made progress through introspection, through examining the way I think and make decisions, through questioning my priorities and goals. Not by trying to do ten minutes of yoga every day, or taking five deep breaths whenever I'm overwhelmed, or doing a test to tell me what career I'd be best at, or by adding flax seeds to my breakfast cereal. It's been through realizing that right now exercise is not my highest priority, by finding out that I can be kind to myself and that everything's better when I am, by asking myself again and again what work I actually enjoy doing, rather than what work I like the idea of, and by paying attention to how I feel when I eat different foods and discovering that vegetables make me feel good. It's been slow, halting, and difficult.  Sometimes it's been painful; sometimes I have despaired. But I think it's the only way I'll keep moving forward - one tiny step at a time.

So another deceptively hopeful filter has come off my eyes, and I see things a tiny bit clearer. I'll probably keep falling for those promises of quick results and easy change ... but hopefully now I'll realize soon after that they're the lifestyle equivalent of "This Housewife Made $32,000 in Her First Month Working Online!" or "Papayas Are the New Weight Loss Secret!" One step at a time!

A starting point

After months and months of thinking about this blog and yet wavering over how to move forward, I am determined now to start again even if I don't know where I'm going. I think a good place to start, then, is the foundation of my fledgling life philosophy: the two main desires I have for my life.

These two desires, or goals, or aims, are what comes to mind when I imagine what kind of life I want, so that I will be satisfied when I face death one day. Remembering them helps me focus on what is important to me. Making decisions based on them helps me resist social pressures, be myself, and be happy. And they are very simple:

1. I want to enjoy my life.
Life, this planet, this universe are full of beauty and wonder. There is so much to see, hear, taste, experience, and enjoy, and I want to revel in it all. Plus, being happy seems intrinsically preferable to me to being unhappy! So I want to be happy.

2. I want to do good.
As I care about myself, I care about other people and other animals, and wish for them to be happy, to live well, and to be free of suffering. I want to protect the organisms, places, and artworks that make our world beautiful. And I want to contribute to the welfare of others and the protection of what's wonderful as much as I can.

That's it!