Cogito, ergo sum

By relaxing I found it was easier to be more aware of what was going on around me. Things that are usually easy to ignore. I tried to not make any internal conversation about what I became aware of. If I smelled a newly mowed lawn, I tried to just experience the smell rather than attach “Oh, that’s the smell of cut grass. I wonder how long ago they cut it? I wonder who cut it., etc.” thoughts to it. It’s a liberating experience to not have thoughts always intruding in to everything.

Descartes said , “I think, therefore I am.” well, what happens when you don’t think? I’m trying to find out.

To paraphrase Buddhism, “Before thought, everything is one. After thought, everything is different.” I think when you have a black dog you know how scattered your thoughts are and how this thinking separates you from everything else. A depressive thought makes you feel different from others to an even deeper level.

Words are limiting and can’t replace the experience but here’s some of the things I became aware of during my run. Try to imagine experiencing them firsthand without thinking.

Smell . . . A weedy, pollen odor coming from the overgrown areas by the path. Sulphur from car exhaust. Charcoal grilled meat that blew in from a restaurant down the road (I could never be a vegetarian). Pine trees were especially fragrant but I think my favorite was the smell of water coming from a business’s sprinkler. It reminded me of the smell before a rain. Very refreshing coming towards the last leg of my run.

Sound . . . cars flying towards me on the street. Semis on the highway miles away. Train whistles in the distance. Birds chirping and calling to one another. A distant plane. Two women talking while waiting for a light to change.

Site . . .  The deer and cat tracks permanently embedded in a section of the sidewalk. Too many rabbits to count; some sitting still and others bolting away depending on how close I was. It was like I was a T-Rex and they thought “Don’t move and he won’t see me.” A child’s plastic toy dropped along the way. Two young birds that were blown out of their nest - or perhaps as they were just learning to fly. Several SUVs and trucks with their windows painted with baseball tournament graffiti. And the pale blue Kansas sky.

Touch. . . The feel of the sun heating my face as I ran to the west and later on my neck when I turned back east. Sweat soaking every inch of my body. My wet shirt clinging to me, only my sleeves stayed dry enough to use to wipe the sweat off my brow. The breeze that cooled me when I turned towards home and the sprinkler water that showered me as I ran through its mist. The coolness of the air I breathed.

It seems like such a simple thing, easily ignored - but that’s life and it passes all too quickly. These seemingly unimportant things can enrich our experience if we only slow down and pay attention to them. Think of how much freer and richer each day can be. Less emotion (black dog) and more pure experience.

Head Fake, How Prozac sent the science of depression in the wrong direction - thanks to Black Dog reader Jennifer!

6 Ways to De-stress

Sleep Deprivation is not a Badge of Honor

Can You Become a Creature of New Habits?

How to Take a Nap

Top 10 Ways to Relax

6 Tips for Happiness

Low Serotonin Makes for An Unfair Offer You Can Refuse

The Ultimate Guide to Motivation

Barbershops are a particular right of passage for boys. Aside from the occasional mom with her toddler, it’s a peculiarly male environment and one of the first places where we are exposed to men talking about men stuff -  jokes, sports, politics, women and sex. There’s an endless supply of distractions for any young man; gumball machines, pop, t.v., videogames, magazines, comic books, newspapers and sports stuff.

You find out your dad isn’t a perv too as Playboy and other girlie magazines that you’d previously only seen hidden in your dad’s sock & underwear drawer are laying out in full view right next to the local newspaper. Ah, nudie mags are acceptable here. You know you’ve arrived when you muster up enough courage to actually pick one up and flip through it in front of the other guys . . .  trying not to dwell too long on the photos. You don’t want to act like a naked woman is that novel a thing to you.

As I opened the door to the shop, I was greeted with a wailing wall of screams from a little red-haired boy who was in the middle of being disemboweled a haircut by the barber at the far end of the shop. His mother had to alternately hold his legs and head still as the barber tried to trim his carrot top. Everyone in the shop was smiling and laughing at this little guy. He looked like a mini-me of Mel Gibson in the end of Braveheart where they held him down and he screamed “Freeeeeeeeedooooooommmmm!” except this little guy was screaming “Get me Doooooooowwwwwwnnnnn!!!!”

Ben called me over and asked with a laugh, “Can’t you do some Kung-fu grip thing on him and knock ‘em out?”

He quickly got to the point where he was inconsolable. Absolutely over the top - he’d reached that point where he couldn’t stop crying even if he’d wanted to. He reminded me of . . . me when the woman I thought was my soul mate left me (yes, I’m talking about you Kelly B.). The tears flowed and I howled too. Literally. I still remember letting out an unbelievable primal scream at her loss. I’d never experienced anything like that. It was as if the ground underneath me had opened up and I was falling in to emptiness. I’d lost my best friend. More than anything I miss talking to her, her smile, looking in her eyes and seeing that sparkle that tells me she loves me just as much as I her. We used to talk for hours about anything and everything, but now that’s all gone.

Looking at this child in the chair in front of me I couldn’t help but think, “Oh, there’s going to be so much more in your life to be upset about little man.”

After several minutes of screaming his haircut was finally done and amazingly he still had both ears. His mom took him to sit on one of the benches that lined the walls in the waiting area. He was still crying and in between sucking for breath, still saying “Get me down!”. His mom was more than a little irritated & embarrassed and snapped at him, “You ARE down.” Adding insult to injury, she wouldn’t let him get a sucker.

His slightly older brother was at the other end of chairs getting his hair cut too. Apparently it was old hat to him as he sat still and just looked at his dad who was standing nearby & shaking his head at his younger son. The next thing I knew this brother was done and had run over to his crying brother where he waved a shiny new Tootsie Pop in his face and proudly proclaimed, “Look what I got!”

My son waved me over to his chair. Since he moved back to town and has been working as a barber, our relationship has evolved. We’re still very much father and son but now we’re also friends. He has matured a lot in the last year. He will call me up to ask my advice or drop by to show me a new piece of furniture he got a good deal on. Like Mark Twain I think maybe Ben is amazed at how much I’ve learned since he was 14 and now he can actually stand to be around me. We talked about the Mixed Martial Arts cage fight he saw in a local bar last week (that’s real ‘guy talk’) and the new couch he’d bought for his apartment.

When he was done, I reached for my wallet but he just shook his head “no”. He gave me a big hug and said to stop by his apartment to take a look at his new couch sometime.

As I walked out of the shop I couldn’t help but think about how much worry and stress I had gone through since his mom had given him the boot & kicked him out of her house back in Junior High because her 3rd husband (at 45 she’s now on #4) didn’t get along with him and she couldn’t control him. Aauuugh! I wanted to shake her and shout “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He had come to live with me full-time at an age that was difficult under the best of circumstances and he was understandably a very angry & hurt young man. As painful as it was for my soul-mate to leave me, I can’t imagine being abandoned by my mother. Ben’s mom made it much worse by dumping trash bags full of his belongings on our doorstep. The absolute worse thing was when I came home one day to find that she had dumped boxes of photo albums and Christmas ornaments that he made for her in grade school. It was as if she was trying to purge him from her life. I hurt for him and didn’t know how to take the pain away. My black dog made sure I took the pain and made it my own.

The only thing I could do was to be a constant presence in Ben’s life. To the best of my ability I was always there for him and let him know I loved him unconditionally. He could get in trouble, wreck his car, get in a fight at school or get fired from his job flipping burgers and I would still be there to help him learn from his experiences and move on. I would not abandon him no matter how badly he behaved.

If the friends he brought home were on the rough side, I made sure to befriend them. I knew I couldn’t force them out of his life.  It helped that I could show them martial arts as the discipline and ability to defend myself brought a measure of respect in their eyes. I talked to them about their lives and what they wanted. Many of them didn’t have a dad or male figure involved with them and I think they appreciated someone showing an interest. It also helped to influence Ben when his friends could say, “Your dad is pretty cool.”

What struck me was how absolutely worthless all my worry had been. I had caught him smoking weed and knew he was drinking too. He had also gotten into some fights. While I think it’s pretty natural for a parent to be concerned over their child’s welfare, the only thing my worry did was to punish me and make me feel terrible.  Other than making the black dog of depression fat and unhappy, it served no purpose whatsoever. I think worry brings with it a weird sort of magical thinking. On some level we believe that if we worry then the very thing we worry about will not come to pass. Like an emotional Pavlov’s dog, when it doesn’t come to pass then the belief is reinforced. The bell has been rung and our black dog salivates.

That was an expensive lesson. My physical and mental health has been affected. In retrospect I wish I could go back even if it’s just a few years knowing what I know now (don’t we all?) but that’s not going to happen. All I can do is use it as the very valuable lesson that it is moving forward.

In spite of all the emotional screaming and kicking and “Get me down!” that I did,  I am glad to say that nothing that I had worried about has come to pass. I never got a phone call saying my son had been in an accident, arrested, got a girl pregnant or anything even remotely like that. Now I know that even if something bad had happened, worry would not have been helpful at all. That, I guess, is life’s shiney new Tootsie Roll for me. It’s time to allow happiness in my life. How about you?

In my backyard I discovered a small birdhouse I bought at an art fair years ago finally has an occupant - a wren family. I find  joy in observing everyday things. It’s kind of a strange phenomena. Nothing is special and nothing is not special. Every moment I spend watching the wrens flitting about, singing & chirping are moments that help me to let go, relax and feel connected.

When I visited my dad last Friday - the Fourth, I brought a small American flag and some chocolates. It doesn’t take much to make an old man feel good.

On this visit I found out how much less stressful it is if I just play along with him and what he thinks is going on from the very start. If he believes he talked to his aunt that died 10 years ago, then I’ll ask him about their conversation. It serves no purpose to argue that his version of reality is incorrect. After all if you have a black dog, your version of reality is a little skewed too. After 87 years he’s earned the right to have whatever reality he wants.

If he thinks mom is still alive and then I tell him she’s dead, it might re-traumatize him all over again. I remember what his face looked like on the day mom died and I don’t ever want to see that again. Fortunately during this visit he was only focused on going back to work.

So when dad shrugged his shoulders and said he didn’t know why, but they wanted him back at the mine to work again (after 60+ years) I said, “You must have made an impression. They probably looked at your old records.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.” he replied, “They were sure a good company to work for. The people were nice and the pay was good. They must have liked me.”

“What’s not to like dad?”

He grinned and said he’d need to get his car back now that he had a job again. We talked about shopping for a car.

Within a minute or two he was concerned that the Army might recall him too.

“They’ll always need good officers dad and you were a good one.” He smiled at that.

It was like a light bulb going off in my mind. Whatever dad believes in the moment, all I have to do is become an actor and ad-lib some lines. It makes him happy and he feels like he has a life again, something to look forward to.

Being Right or Being Happy

It’s not really lying either. I’m not trying to purposefully mislead him. I found myself feeling better during that visit than I have ever felt before mainly because I didn’t try to correct him. Thinking about it, all it amounted to before was me trying to be right. No ego there, eh? All me being ‘right’ did was reinforce how much dad’s Alzheimer’s has progressed and all that did was make me feel worse. It’s time to let go of that downward spiral. Now I’ve decided to be happy instead of right.

Such is the nature of the mind and our beliefs. Our thoughts really are our reality. If you have a black dog, your thoughts and subsequently your emotions, tend to be on the dark side. So how can we break out and choose another, healthier and happier reality?

1. Recognize that your thinking determines how you feel and that it is in your power to change it. When you find yourself getting upset, examine just what it is you’re telling yourself & argue rationally out of it. Read up on cognitive / rational emotive therapy and/or find a good counselor. In short you learn to separate a practical problem from an emotional one and thereby gain control over both.
2. Take responsibility - choose to change your life and aggressively treat your depression no matter how long it takes.
3. Live each day - refuse to be satisfied with just getting by.
4. Be willing to do the hard work to get better.
5. Focus - your #1 priority is getting better, all else comes after that.
6. Become an expert - read up on your condition and its treatment. Knowledge is empowering. Be careful you don’t overdo it on the self-help books. Pick a few good ones and move on, the books can’t heal you, only acting on the knowledge you gain can.
7. Plan - journal your plan of attack and keep track of your progress. You’ll be surprised to see how your mood changes over time.
8. Persevere - never give up. Keep the momentum going even when it feels like there is none.
9. Take action and do it now - don’t wait until the time is right, the right time is always now.
10. Repeat all of the above - just like the directions on your shampoo, lather rinse, REPEAT!

Just as I was starting to mow the lawn on Saturday my sister called. The nursing home had just called her saying dad was very confused and it “might help if someone would visit him”. No guilt with that last line. She was concerned about him but also felt bad for not going to see him that day. Since they were in the middle of a lake out of town, she asked if I would go?

When I got to the home, dad was in his room. He was glad to see me and said he didn’t understand what was going on or what he was supposed to do. He motioned to a photo of mom on his nightstand and said “I’m confused. I don’t know where that came from and I don’t know why I keep looking for her. I keep expecting to see her and I look all over for her but she doesn’t exist anymore.”

What could I say to that? So much emotion rises to the surface when you see your dad aching for the love of his life. I not only ache for dad but I can’t help but think of people I’ve loved and lost too. Relationships that once were and some I still hold out hope for.

“You were married for 64 years dad. I think it’s pretty natural when you’ve been with someone for so long to keep expecting they’ll always be there.”

He rubbed his forehead and added, “I’ve been having the weirdest dreams too. I was at a new hospital in town. It was brick and everyone was so nice to me. They took me all around the place and gave me a tour. I woke up and thought why in the world would I dream that.”

“Do you remember your aunt Alice? I saw her the other day.” he added.

Alice was his aunt who gave him a lot of support when he growing up after his mom died and his dad had trouble finding work in the depression. She was a school teacher who actually taught both Senators Arlen Spector and Bob Dole. She was almost 100 when she died.

“You really have had a lot of vivid dreams”  I said.

“Oh no, it wasn’t a dream. I actually saw her. She was right here.” he said waving his hand around his room.

I tried to explain that she had died about 10 years ago but he was insistent. “No, you’re thinking of someone else. I SAW HER. She was here!”

There comes a point in the progression of Alzheimer’s when it’s futile to try and convince them that they’re in error. At first you think with enough repetition you can convince them they were dreaming or had forgotten what happened. Eventually you learn no amount of reasoning can penetrate the fog of Alzheimer’s so you play along. After all he’s been through he deserves to be humored.

My grandmother came to mind as she started seeing dead relatives before she died. It was almost like they were welcoming her home. For all I knew Alice’s ghost did appear to him.

“What did she say?” I asked, half expecting to hear a message from beyond.

“Oh she was really glad to see me and said she’s teaching at a school in town. She has a nice little house down the road and I told her I want to move in with her and take care of her.”

He went on the tell me that the Certainteed Gypsum mine (where he had his first job after WWII) had called him and wanted him to come back to work for them. Then there was the Army, they called too wanting him to re-up. Dad had a very busy schedule earlier in the day.

Interesting that the two most important women in his life and the two memorable and dangerous jobs he had, all converged on him at the same time.

I was doing okay up until he suddenly put his hands up in front of him, gesturing as though he was pushing someone away. Dad looked at me and said “I don’t understand why he pushes me away.” When I asked him who was doing that he said, “My son.”

“Which son dad? You have three. There’s Jim, Steve and me. Which one is pushing you away?”

With a mix of confusion & irritation for not being able to remember his son’s name, and a pained look he snapped “It’s the one who won’t come see me or talk to me.” He threw his hands up and shrugged his shoulders and sighed, “I guess that’s his problem but I don’t understand it. When you get to be old all you have is family and your memories . . . ”

I knew he was talking about my oldest brother who’s been completely unable to come to terms with both mom and dad ever since they started having memory problems. It’s always been a dinosaur-sized bone of contention with me. My brother bends over backwards making excuses and rationalizing why he can’t or won’t visit. The one that makes me want to smack him is “He won’t remember me anyway.” as though that’s the only reason to visit your dad.

Smack number two would be the way my brother calls me or my sister to get the latest news on dad and then turns around and calls distant family members and gives them the latest news on dad - as though he was the one who visited him every day. I’d be angry if it wasn’t so very pathetic.

Now dad has shown that he does indeed remember and is aware more than we realize. I’ve always felt that although he doesn’t remember our names, he still knows we’re family or somehow related to him.

There’s been a few times I’ve been to visit him where I’ll walk out of the room to talk to an aid or use the restroom and when I go back to see him a few minutes later, he’ll look surprised to see me and say, “Hi! What are you doing?” At first this was disconcerting, like you’re in a version of Groundhog Day but you never knew when the ‘day’ would start over again. Still, a part of him knows when family has come to visit.

When you’re walking a black dog and you have anxiety too, it often affects your memory, especially if you’re on medication. Now try and put yourself into the stress of caring for your parent with Alzheimer’s. That’s one of life’s lemons that’s hard to make into lemonade. Imagine how your anxiety jumps to full blown panic when you find yourself blanking out on someone’s name or forgetting something else. Memory and mortality are staring you in the face. What are you going to do?

Throw in a family member who refuses to step up to the plate and do what’s right and you have a part of your life that you’d just as soon not have to deal with. Unfortunately your options are limited. You deal with it or try and bury it. I can guarantee you that if you bury it, the black dog will dig it up and your anxiety will grow.

My solution now is exercising a lot to alleviate the stress/anxiety, a healthy diet, good sleep habits, Tai Chi/Qigong, making art, practicing mindfulness/meditation, talking with trusted friends and staying as busy and involved as I can. In other words as best as I can, I deal with my life head-on using everything and then some of the TLC program.

I’ve done enough of trying to bury it and it just doesn’t work, period. PERIOD. A few years back all I was doing was running. It helped, but I also felt too much like I was running away from something. That something (a rather large black dog no doubt) always seemed to be gaining on me.

TLC, mindfulness and my other practices really go a long way in giving me control over the situation. I don’t feel so helpless anymore. It’s not always easy, in fact sometimes it’s hard - but that is life and it’s better than feeling like Wile E. Coyote being run over by the Road Runner all the time.

In the end I did confront my brother and told him what dad said. He immediately got defensive but rather than argue with him or get angry, I simply said, “I’m just telling you what he said. He is more aware of what’s going on than you think. You need to visit dad.” He later called our sister to say he’d like to go with her the next time she visits dad.

It’s a strange thing how, now that my kids are grown, I’ve once again become a parent but this time it’s to my own father. By nurturing dad now, in some way I don’t fully understand - I find I’m nurturing that little boy inside me, the one that was afraid of a stern Army officer that was my dad growing up. Dad has softened considerably over the years and is very loving and appreciative now. I’m proud to call him my dad. Life is indeed a long strange trip.

Going back to visit on Sunday I was pleased to hear from the staff that dad was much better after my previous visit. He’d calmed down considerably and was in a pretty good mood. Going out on the patio dad looked up at the huge shade trees and the clouds floating lazily in the summer sky. It was in the mid 80s with a soft breeze. “It’s a good day to be alive.” he said. I couldn’t agree more.

I’d been doing just (don’t minimize your efforts!) 2 miles but finally felt energized enough after work that I thought I’d try to go for it. It helped a lot that we had cooler weather and lower humidity too. Still if a 51 year young guy who sits at a desk all day can do it, so can you.

Start small and work up to it. If you don’t like to run then experiment with other activities or sports. Maybe you can walk fast, play tennis, basketball, soccer or dance. You can jump up & down to a Richard Simmons video (just don’t do it in spandex and tape yourself - I guarantee you won’t like it), anything at all. So long as you enjoy it and it gets your heart rate up that’s all that matters.

Want to calculate your heart rate? Here’s a link to a target heart rate calculator.

A couple of days later I went for it again but the weather was hotter and humidity was up. After a few miles I felt overheated and was sweating like crazy (I usually sweat a lot). I kept pushing on and managed to get to the 3 mile marker before I thought it was crazy to let my pride dictate how I run. It’s one thing to push through discomfort, quite another to endanger your health. A little panic set in too as I felt hotter than normal and I was at about 85 to 90 % of my target heart rate which is around 140-5 beats a minute. The really interesting thing is as I walked along I consciously relaxed and got into the slower rhythm of walking but because I was still a couple of miles from home, had no I.D. (dumb idea) on me, was hot and my heart was pounding - there was some anxiety left but I knew it was unfounded. Every time I’d felt anxious or panicky in the past, nothing had ever come of it, NOTHING, NEVER! 100% of the time. Once I’d told myself that, POOF - it was gone! That’s something to remember. Instead of feeling like I was being chased by a black dog, I felt as though I was rewiring a part of my brain or flipping a switch. I was in control.

When you feel like it’s a Bad Day at Black Rock (love that movie) ask yourself, have your worst fears ever come to pass? Probably not. Most of the time all of our anxiety is for naught. Even if something untoward did happen or things fell apart, did your worry help you in any way? No, of course it didn’t. It only made you feel bad.

Why Worry Gets You Nowhere - thanks to DevYou.com

We also have class on Wednesday nights. Last night he spoke about how he’s writing a book tentatively called Tai Chi and Enlightenment. He’s trying to figure out why it’s so hard for people to learn it. Other arts like Judo, Karate, Aikido are all easier to learn. “You can take Cha, Cha, Cha lessons and be pretty good in a few months.” he said. “Tai Chi should be easier to learn because you’re using less effort. It’s a mystery.”

“Tai Chi can be as easy to learn as taking a deep breath or as difficult as trying to learn Chinese. The choice is up to you.” he added.

Other students all had their own ideas and opinions on why it takes longer to learn the art. We’re used to using strength & it’s hard to give that up, we’re too full of opinions on what we ‘think’ it should be, etc. He didn’t so much disagree with what we said but he added that he thought people brought too much emotion to the art. “Why would you go on vacation to Mexico and carry your baggage down to the beach? It’s pretty hard to swim carrying all that. Why not leave it in your hotel room?”

Tai Chi is very simple if you don’t have a mind full of thoughts and emotions. When you raise your hand, just think/be aware of “I’m raising my hand.” and that’s it. Let go of whether you’re upset, jealous, sad, angry, etc. Those things don’t matter and only get in the way of the flow.

My man, he knows me pretty well.

Here’s a little exercise I’m working on. Whenever I notice myself being angry, sad or whatever - I consciously tell myself “Okay, I’m feeling tense because I’m angry at the guy who cut me off in traffic. I make the choice now to let go of that feeling and those thoughts.” then I breath deeply and slowly for a while and move on. With enough practice it will become easier and who knows, maybe you’ll feel the rhythm of life.

Last Friday night the home where dad lives had a first day of Summer celebration. All of the families of the residents were invited and asked to bring a side dish. Sitting by dad out on their patio I bet he told me a dozen times of his early courtship with mom. To get her attention, he stapled her uniform together at the drugstore they both worked in. As a condition for him to remove the staples, she had to agree to go out with him. He also said they necked a lot and umm . . . I think the contemporary term is “gettin’ jiggy wit it.” Try sitting through repeated tellings of your parent’s love life. What a way to start the weekend. I did try to redirect him onto other topics but dad was focused. I took it as a good opportunity for practicing mindfulness. So I just thought about how this is my dad talking about the love of his life. It’s one of the few memories he still has. It was about being there for him.

Most of the aides and other residents at the home are women (”survived by his wife…” reads just about every married man’s obit) and dad enjoys talking about how nice they are to him. He talks about how much he likes girls and then he’ll hold their hand and say “This is my girlfriend.” He has a lot of girlfriends. He probably thinks he lives in a harem. We should all be so lucky.

Driving to K.C. the next day I was a little surprised at how perturbed I got at some of the other drivers. It’s one of the things I’ve never enjoyed about larger cities. Too many people driving way too crazy.

In my rear view mirror I noticed a car cutting in and out of traffic. He was coming up fast behind me and cutting in front of cars where there really wasn’t enough room. As he pulled up beside me I could see him glare at me as though I was somehow at fault for being in his way. He cut me off and made me slam on the brakes. After I cussed him out I reminded myself that everyone has the right to be an A**hole. Today was his day and he was making the most of it. It pisses me off that some people can be so self centered and put others in danger but as the saying goes, “You can’t cure stupid. Stupid is forever.”

That’s really life though isn’t it? Most people try to get along but there’s always someone that bends or breaks the rules with little or no regard for others. That’s part of the rythym of life. There’s good days & bad. There’s good people & bad and everything in between.

Tai Chi class in K.C. was above average due to my recent ‘aha’ moment earlier in the week. I’d been feeling pretty good lately and while listening to streaming radio at work, I came across the tail end of a conversation between Dr. Joy Brown and a caller to her show. The good doctor said something to the effect of “People will often sabotage themselves and not make a decision that they know will help them because on some level they don’t believe they deserve to be happy.” That struck a chord in me and I think a lot of people, depressed or otherwise, feel that way. We don’t believe in ourselves or in our worthiness to pursue happiness.

I’m sure I’ve heard it before but I wasn’t in a place where it could really sink in and use it to make some changes, now I am. The changes start by doing things that you enjoy. Delayed gratification is a sign of maturity but delaying it indefinitely is not. I’ve never known a happy martyr. Like everything in life you want to aim at a healthy balance. Too often we postpone doing things until everything is just right or ‘X, Y and Z’ are done first.

Don’t want to run tonight because you need to do the laundry or clean house or wash the car, etc.?  A clean house, car or clothes aren’t going to help your endorphins kick in like a good run (or other aerobic activity) will. Stop it now and do it for you. Balance your priorities. You can do your chores when you get back.

There’s a bunch of family birthdays in June so we combine them with Father’s Day and have a reunion of sorts. A lot of homemade food, drink, talking and laughing.

My son brought his girlfriend to the party and they actually stayed for the whole thing. He also bought me a really nice card and a gift card to Home Depot. His thoughtfulness meant a lot to me and really made my day.

I stressed myself out as I worked for the last couple of weeks finishing off my deck for the event. It’s just an old deck that I rehabbed as best I could until I can afford to completely redo it. I found myself getting caught up in trying to make everything perfect. I had to keep reminding myself that it was just family and nothing had to be perfect.

Last Fall I dug out a big section of the lawn just off of the deck and put in a flagstone patio. It was a lot of work for one man but it turned out nicely. I was pretty exhausted by the time it was done.

That’s how I do a lot of projects - I get an idea in my head, pour myself into it (doing it by myself) and by the time it’s done, I’m completely worn out. Sometimes the perfectionism lingers on and it’s difficult to enjoy the fruits of my labor as I see the flaws in it. At other times I can squelch the black dog and get some measure of enjoyment looking at my handiwork.

When I went running after work last night I went over a lot of the events and conversations from the weekend. It struck me how ingrained little criticisms are in my family.

“Did you just plant that maple tree?” asked my brother.

“No, that’s been there several years.” I said.

“Well, it’s too close to that oak tree.” he said as he motioned to the space between them.

I told him to “Feel free to dig it up and move it.”

In the big scheme of things it’s nothing, but in a family it’s often times the little things that accumulate and get under the skin. We’re all so full of ourselves, our opinions and insecurities. Everyone wants to be right. Everyone wants to share their opinions.

I’d get an A in a college class and my other brother would say, “Why didn’t you get an A+?” It was his attempt at humor but it really goes to the heart of the underlying ‘it’s never good enough’ attitude that always drove me crazy. There is an unspoken competitiveness that comes out in these get togethers. Who buys the nicest, most expensive gifts? Who has the latest gadgets, the newest car, etc.?  It’s not that we aren’t a loving family. We care about each other a lot, but it’s like some measure of childhood rivalry and competitiveness has followed us in to adulthood.

This time I was determined not to play the game. I bought everyone a birthday gift but I refused to pay any more than $15 each. They may not have been hand-blown glass bowls bought at an art fair, but I managed to find good, thoughtful presents for everyone.

I found myself during Father’s Day observing our family dynamics. It occurred to me that a family is a lot like the flagstones I laid in the patio. All sizes, shapes and colors. Some fit together better than others. All have their niche and play a part in the whole.