One of the most common benefits that I have heard identified through the pandemic and quarantine was additional free time. Every time I heard that, my blood temperature went up a little bit more. My experience has been the complete opposite.

We are coming up on three months since many of us have been forced to work from home. Throughout that time, I have heard often about the surfeit of discretionary time that we all theoretically have. This has been so far from my experience that I wanted to consider it a bit deeper.

Part of the reason for the difference in my experience is that my wife and I have seven children, ages fifteen down to ten months. Before all of this began, I did have to commute for an hour and a half to two hours every day, and so I expected to have more time at my disposal. And in some ways, I did.

The interesting thing about time is that we never truly have more or less of it. The perceived differences from day to day, or year to year, are just that—perceived. Every one of us has exactly the same amount of time in every day. The issue is how we choose to spend it.

I have found that the feeling of having free time is largely a function of how much time appears to be in your control, with no pressing obligations. Once you feel a responsibility to do something with a block of time, it no longer feels like free time. This is the case even if the responsibility is completely self-imposed.

This is why spending hours consuming media is so seductive. When you choose to engage in a passive activity such as consumption, there is no feeling of responsibility. You allow yourself to cater to your whims, and in so doing, pursue an escape. The irony of this course of action is that you are usually just falling into the control of the algorithm, instead of being in control yourself. Big media companies know and understand how valuable your time and attention are, and have invested heavily in understanding how to co-opt that.

Because of my choices to have a large family, when I am faced with “extra” time during the day, by default, that time goes to my wife or children. I have to work to make a conscious decision to do something different. And since we are all together even more than before, my sense of time to myself in which I get to choose what I do is more diminished than ever.

The nice thing about writing about this is getting more clarity about my own situation. In the course of this article, I have gone from feeling frustrated at missing out on a shared experience that seems to be all around me, to reclaiming my sense of agency in knowing that I get to choose how to spend my time.

The minutes of our lives are a precious commodity that can easily be spent mindlessly. Those minutes turn into hours and days and months and years in which we can accomplish and grow and change, or stagnate and coast. I hope that I can remember the lesson of COVID-19 for me—there never is more or less free time in my life, just how I choose to use my twenty-four hours in the day.

We have to be so careful anytime that we view individuals primarily through the lens of a group to which they belong. This can creep in to our lives even through a positive guise, such as appreciating health care workers.

One thought that I have been having through this global pandemic is that our group of societal heroes has expanded. Of course, not everyone feels this way, but the general view of society has evolved throughout my lifetime. I first saw that members of the military were seen as heroes. Following 9/11, first responders and firefighters joined in the hero category. And then with COVID-19, health care workers have become included as well.

In many ways, this is a wonderful thing. I am a huge fan of any increase in our care and compassion and tendency to view others positively. Many of us who view these groups in a favorable light do so because we consider that they are sacrificing some of their interests in the service of others, which is certainly laudable.

As I have thought more and more about this phenomenon, in addition to the gratitude and excitement that I have for an increase in positive sentiment, I have started to have grave concerns. One lesson I have learned through my experience with OCD and various forms of treatment is that our ways of thinking form patterns. The more we mentally traverse those patterns, the more instinctual they become. It is as if we are riding a bike on a dirt road through our mind, and as we ride the same path over and over, we form a rut which locks our tires into traveling the same exact line with little to no effort.

The implications of these two phenomena colliding are sobering and even damning. This is one way that we arrive in a situation of needing a movement like Black Lives Matter. I am not saying that everyone who celebrates those in the military, or first responders, or health care workers is doomed to become bigoted and racist. What I am saying is that if we are not aware and attentive, the same forces that pull on us to admire certain people solely because of their membership in a group we find admirable can also lead us to overlook others simply because they belong to certain groups.

At the heart of the issue, in my mind, is a lack of seeing people as people. No one deserves to be heroized for mere membership in a group, just as no one deserves to be vilified because of belonging to a group. Our individual identity is what distinguishes us as people, not the groups or groups to which we belong.

My sincere hope is not that we will celebrate people less, but rather that we will think more and learn to see people more. From first-hand experience, I know that not everyone who wears a uniform is actually a hero. People made poor choices even when they are ostensibly part of a noble profession. And heroic acts and people are to be found in all walks of life.

It is time for us all to sit up and think. We are flooded with information, but even more damaging, inundated with voices telling us what opinions we should have about that information. It is far too easy for us to surrender our wills and suspend our critical thinking skills until they atrophy to the point of impotence.

People are not a color. People are not a religion. People are not a uniform. People are not a profession. People are people. And they deserve to be treated as such.

My friend Jo Schaeffer is participating in a podcast interview on creativity and posted the question, “What challenges do you have unleashing your inner creative?” I thought about this quite a bit, and decided I wanted to share my response.

The biggest thing that helps me unlock my creativity is similar to what helps me have compassion for myself—just think of how I would treat others. My favorite thing to see from an artist is not the polished final product. Much more interesting is the rough work in progress. So even when I feel like my final product looks like a work in progress, and especially when it really is, I try to remind myself this is what I love to see from others.

My favorite book from my favorite artist is the Calvin and Hobbes: Sunday Pages 1985-1995. Each page shows his original drawings, complete with pencil lines and white out. It’s a treasure.

So often, the final product is distant and unreachable. We see what someone else has done, and think, “I could never do that.” But to see someone’s unfinished work is to be beckoned into the inner sanctum—to be trusted with raw vulnerability. That invitation is irresistible and inspiring.

One of the ways I was profoundly affected by my recent trip to our India office was in observing the manner in which the people worked. I am still considering how to apply what I saw and learned.

As I wrote about recently, I had the opportunity to travel to India last week. We were able to visit some amazing historical sites, and to work with our colleagues in our office there. I had previously visited India, but never before with my current company. So this was my first opportunity to meet some of my colleagues in that office.

I was able to travel together with the product manager working with my team. When we arrived, we found a meeting room marked for our use. There were a few meetings rooms set off of a main room where the bulk of the office employees sat to work. Outside of the main room was a moderately sized area with a reception desk, couches, a gavel table, an eating table, and a food preparation area.

We found that while people were in the working room, a sense of quiet prevailed. If anyone spoke, it was in hushed tones. People were not antisocial—many conversations took place, but always in the outer room. On a few mornings, as we arrived, trainings were occurring with most of the staff in the office. During these trainings, some people were quietly working at their desks, but most were engaged in the training. So we saw that in general, either everyone was engaged in a social activity, or they were all quietly working.

While I worked in this environment, I found it highly conducive to deep work. It was much easier to be productive when people were not regularly interrupting or distracting with loud conversations. No one ever said anything or asked anyone else to be quiet. There was no need. Everyone seemed to already understand the environment they wanted to create, and even as intruding visitors, we could immediately sense the proper behavior, and acted accordingly.seemed to already understand the environment they wanted to create, and even add intruding visitors, we could immediately sense the proper behavior, and acted accordingly.

Deep work is facilitator in different ways for different people. In my experience, for most individual contributor work, quiet periods of uninterrupted concentration is ideal. The approach taken by the employees in our India office is the best I have ever seen at mitigating the many drawbacks of cubicles or open office layouts. I hope I can find ways to emulate some of what I witnessed and create deep work opportunities for myself and my team.

One of the surprising inspirations I have found in traveling to India is the traffic. At first glance, it seems scary and chaotic, but a subtle beauty emerged as I better understood life with almost no traffic lights.

India is a fascinating place. I visited Mumbai in 2008 for work and loved the experience. This past week I have spent in Hyderabad working with our Android and API teams. There are a number of things that have struck me in my time here, and I wanted to reflect more on the traffic.

Driving (or rather riding as I have no desire to drive here!) is an almost indescribable experience. We heard stories of other colleagues who had to cover their eyes to avoid panicking. The first couple days, my anxiety was spiking regularly. It seemed as if we were constantly within seconds of crashing into someone, and the din of the honking horns started to make my head split.

People seemed to have no respect for rules of the road, or stop signs, or lane markers. At every turn, cars would pile up and somehow merge five cars side by side into two lanes. Motorbikes flowed incessantly through any gaps in the cars, blocked only by rickshaws trying to do the same. On top of all the vehicular chaos, people threaded their way through the remaining spaces.

It was easy to criticize what we were seeing as organized and unruly. To our Western, regimented minds, the lack of structure was unsettling, even appearing barbaric. We couldn’t understand how people could function without the safe guardrails of enforced rules and regulations. The stress seemed overwhelming.

And then something beautiful and magical occurred.

As we spent more time in the traffic, patterns began to emerge. The cacophony lost its harshness as individual sounds took on new meaning. Instead of random honking, an intricate auditory signaling system became evident. Instead of barely avoided accidents, an elegant dance ebbed and flowed. At the root of what appeared to be chaos was a tranquility that nearly everyone shared along with an understanding of their mutual purpose. There was a total lack of irritation displayed.

The hyper-efficient part of my brain recoiled first at the perceived disorder and the inefficiency that must surely result. Every drive we took seemed to snake back and forth through the city. I finally realized that the ubiquitous u-turns and lack of traffic lights were connected, and were a feature, not a defect. Avoiding traffic lights meant that there was a continuous flow of motion. Side streets opened on to main arteries in a single direction, and regular openings for u-turns facilitated speedy course correction.

One fascinating aspect of the u-turns was the impact on opposing traffic. Gates or cones obstructed the outer lane to make room for turning vehicles. Instead of causing problems or congestion, traffic seamlessly merged from four cars abreast spanning the two lanes to a car and a rickshaw or a couple motorcycles squeezing through. As vehicles turned and people crossed and lanes collapsed, the people calmly adapted. There was a complete lack of frustration and selfish insistence on priority.

As our group of Americans came to see the beauty beneath the chaos, we realized that understanding traffic was a key to understanding the people and their culture. Harmony and cooperation vastly exceed individualism and competition.

As I return back to where I am more comfortable driving, I hope I can take some of the lessons I have learned from Indian traffic.

Behavior exists in the realm of time because it requires action, but mindset exists in a timeless realm of thought. We can change our mindset in a split second.

I recently had the opportunity to participate in some trainings by the Arbinger Institute. These trainings were hugely impactful on me, in both a professional and personal sense. They have published a number of books that include the same basic principles, such as Leadership and Self-Deception, The Anatomy of Peace, and The Outward Mindset. The foundational principle is that mindset drives behavior.

At times, it is easy for us to remain unaware of this truth. We often see problems that arise and look to address them through behavioral changes. This will never be successful in the end because any behavior can be performed with any number of mindsets.

In my latest training, a fascinating point was raised. One of the aspects of behavior is that it is necessarily linked with action. As such, it exists in the context of time. All action takes time, both to enact and even more to modify.

On the other hand, mindset exists in the context of thought. The implication of this is that time is not a factor. In the realm of thought, changes can occur instantaneously. Often, small and subtle adjustments can develop imperceptibly over time. We sometimes are completely unaware of the final nudge that pushes us to reconsider a previously held belief and change our mind. But that actual change of mind can occur in an infinitesimal moment.

Confusion can arise because time enters into the picture in the implementation of any mindset change. Although a shift in mind can happen instantaneously, the behavior that results from the shift will naturally occur over time.

Furthermore, even when our mindset changes, we often fall back into previous ways of thinking. It is to be expected that we will have to make repeated efforts to change our mindset when we realize that we are no longer acting in ways consistent with our previous adjustments.

As we approach our lives, it is important to remember that underneath behavior sits the foundation of mindset. Our thoughts and beliefs shape us in many way, both large and small, overt and imperceptible. When we realize that our mindset needs an adjustment, we can take comfort in the fact that this change can occur in an instant, even though it could take the rest of our lives and repeated efforts to put that change into practice.

As we move into the new year, I have been considering new goals. I sketched new phone wallpapers to keep them in front of me. My goals are to make more mistakes and carry less to give more.

As I wrote about last year, I tried a different approach to my goals. In the past, I have often set a number of goals, as well as rules for myself to try and move myself forward and accomplish more. Last year, my goals were more simple: be intentional, be present, and be curious. After a few weeks, I sketched a wallpaper for my phone to help me remember them.

Overall, these goals were extremely helpful for me in 2019. It was a relief to not have a series of intense goals that encouraged my sense of perfectionism. I would not say that I was perfect at my goals, but as I continued to focus on them, they were helpful to come back to again and again.

I have often enjoyed the changing of the year as a time for reflection and anticipation. I was writing in my journal last week as I considered the question of what my new goals would be.

The one that I know that I would like to embrace this next year is make mistakes. I’ve been thinking that the phone background that I want is a nicely designed sign that says, “Here we make mistakes” so that I can carry that with me all the time.

As I started pondering this question, the other thing that stood out to me is to carry less. I have a tendency to carry the emotional burdens of others, and as an empath, I feel those keenly as well. Especially since I am hoping to start talking more about mental health at work, I think it is crucial that I learn how to connect with someone in their pain and not take it with me.

Having decided on those two goals, I started sketching some wallpapers. As I did that, I thought more about the second goal and what the purpose is. I realized that the key is that I want to be able to direct my emotional energy to my highest priorities. My natural response to someone else’s suffering is to carry the perceived injustice. And because of my OCD, I tend to ruminate on the issue, and it weighs heavily on me.

With that realization, I had my three goals. There is nothing magical about having three, but there is a nice symmetry to it. In many ways, they are pretty focused on my home life with my family. I want to work to make our home a safe place to make mistakes and learn together. And then I want to make sure that I reserve enough energy to devote to my family. Too often, I will come home from work exhausted because something happened that drained me. I want to fully engage at work, but not at the expense of being able to engage at home.

I decided this year to split up the goals between the lock screen and the home screen. As I go to turn on my phone, I will remember each time that I want to make more mistakes and become more comfortable with that. And as I start to engage more with my phone and whatever I’m trying to do with it, I want to see my family and be reminded of my priority.

One last word—the apps in my dock. Last year, I improved my mental state by switching up the apps in my dock to include apps without badges. I changed it further as I took my phone grayscale and tried to focus more on creation than consumption. Going into this year, I made further adjustments. I have the apps Calm, Things, iA Writer, and Day One now in my dock. I’ve adjusted the badges so that I rarely have anything show in my dock in order to pay more attention when I do. All of these apps help to focus me on the actions that I want to be taking with my phone.

I am excited for 2020. I hope to continue the great momentum of the last few months, especially in raising awareness and decreasing stigma around mental health. Hopefully I can leave some of the really hard parts of 2019 behind and just enjoy the lessons learned and the ways in which I have grown. Here’s to a great year! 🎊

Life is like walking against a moving walkway. We need to regularly stop and take stock of where we are at, and whether we are still focusing on what is actually most important.

In my job as a software engineering manager, there are a number of possible activities in which I can engage on a daily basis. It is easy to allow myself to coast and be reactive; just dealing with the crises that arise on any given day. The natural pull of entropy is constantly tugging at us to disrupt and distract us from our priorities.

One thought that I have had lately is to more regularly consider the question, “What work am I uniquely qualified to do for our team?” Particularly as the manager, it can be tempting to dive in to help with minutiae that may or may not benefit from my time and attention. Often, the most helpful approach for our team in the long-term is to delegate as much as possible so that others on the team gain more experience and comfort dealing with different issues. Ideally, as the manager, I have a unique perspective across all of the issues the team is facing, and my time will best be spent at a macro level, while trusting my team to execute on the micro level.

Recently, I wrote about prioritizing experiences over artifacts. In general, I still think that is true. However, as a manager, my most important work is communicating with others. I do need to have experiences that continue to shape and define me, and I need to spend considerable amounts of time thinking, but by and large, I need to communicate my thoughts and vision to others. This means that I need to prioritize artifacts more often in my professional life. My focus needs to be on facilitating experiences for my team, and creating artifacts.

The other crucial part of my role is to be available to help the people on my team when they need it. I will be most effective when I am able to make them more effective, and ensure that they are not blocked in their efforts. This involves a high level of reactivity, but when planned and anticipated, it can feel more proactive. I would rather be the one running around trying to figure out some obscure piece of information from just the right person, and allow the engineers on my team to focus on delivering great software. A balance is needed here. I do not want to completely insulate them from other people in the company—I need to foster connections. But so much of the preparatory work of connections is a slog of investigative and archaeological drudgery, and I would rather save my team from that.

Outside of those two main activities, nearly everything I do is a distraction and is taking me away from my primary role. This is something that I want to remember better, and I know I will need to pause and reflect again many times to ensure that I am focused on the right things.

Switching from playing a game to reading on my phone as the default behavior on the toilet has made a world of difference.

A couple weeks ago, I realized that I was spending way too much time playing a game on my phone. At the beginning of June, I had been introduced to the game and started playing in some of my spare time. As the month went on, I found myself looking for more and more opportunities to play. Every trip to the toilet, I pulled out the game, and I even started going to the bathroom when I didn’t really need to. It was getting out of control.

I was discussing the situation with my wife one evening. She admitted that she had gotten to the point of feeling some despair when I headed into the bathroom, knowing I would be gone for a while. For years, I had implemented a rule of no phone on the toilet. It started as a month-long Valentines Day present to my wife and she liked it so much that I kept it going. During my intensive treatment for OCD, I challenged any rules my brain had for me. That resulted in me slowly pulling my phone out more and more on the toilet until it became a habit again.

I decided that night to delete the game from my phone and immediately change my toilet phone habits. My goal is to keep the rule less rigid, but also influence my behavior for the better. So I committed to only using the Kindle app on my phone while on the toilet. And the effects have been striking. I have found that I spent much less time in the bathroom now. I’ve only read nonfiction so far on the toilet, and it’s been much easier to stop without getting sucked in.

In addition to spending much less time in the bathroom, the time that I have spent reading feels more productive. I no longer have a vague sense of unease that I am wasting my time addicted to a game. Basically, my family wins because I am with them more, and I win because I feel better about myself. It is surprising how much the few minutes scattered throughout the days add up to.

Over the course of a couple weeks, I was able to finish the book Digital Minimalism, by Cal Newport, which I had been wanting to read for a while. I am currently reading The Art of Gathering, by Priya Parker.

One of the biggest lessons that I have taken from this is the importance of analyzing my life and reclaiming time that I feel is being frittered away. This is in line with my 2019 goals, which include being intentional. Small amounts of time consistently spent quickly add up to significant investments that can bring joy and fulfillment.

As is often the case, seeing a diverse group of people come together helped me remember what is truly important.

At my company, O.C. Tanner, we celebrate select work anniversaries with a small ceremony involving multiple speakers who highlight achievements or qualities of the employee. Today was the one-year anniversary of a man who is about to become my new product manager, and I was touched.

Beyond the kind words that were said about him, one fact that spoke volumes of him was the crowd that gathered. Not just the number of people, although that was impressive in its own right. What jumped out at me the most was the makeup of the group. There were so many people from different departments who came to celebrate with him. It was one of the first times I have seen that kind of audience at a one-year anniversary.

The specific group that impressed me with their attendance was our client success team. Many people in our product/technology department work with client success as little as possible. As they said themselves during the ceremony, they are often needy and demanding, reflecting the concerns of the clients they represent. We have a tendency to focus on the new and exciting, and have a harder time embracing the value of maintenance and enhancement, and those whose lives focus on maintenance are often perceived as less valuable.

I left the anniversary celebration inspired. I just passed my four-year mark, which does not have a formal ceremony. As I think about my five-year anniversary next year, I want to approach that with intentionality. Obviously, I cannot control who will choose to come or not. But the more people with whom I work and get close, the more diverse the audience can be. I have realized that the people with whom I work are some of the most important and valuable opportunities for learning and growth that I have. I hope that I can remember that over my next year, and throughout my career.

I thoroughly enjoyed the latest episode of Revisionist History from Malcolm Gladwell to celebrate Independence Day. He expanded the story of our nation’s independence, particularly the Boston Tea Party. Many of the Sons of Liberty were part of a smuggling organization providing tea to early colonialists that didn’t go through England, with the accompanying taxes.

I have to admit that framing them as drug lords defending their turf strikes me as a bit sensationalist. On the one hand, you have people trying to get their own legitimate products at a cheaper price by buying direct. On the other, people who are knowingly dealing in death and destruction. It’s hard for me to compare the two. I think the consequences of the drug in question matter a great deal to the morality of the issue. The fact that the early American patriots also protected their own business interests does not lessen their moral stand in my mind.

That being said, I love the additional perspective his research provided. I laughed out loud a number of times in listening to this episode. I am sharing a clip of one of my favorite segments to give you a taste. I highly recommend you listen to the whole episode. Here is an Overcast link: Tempest in a Teacup.

As much as I learn the skill of self-compassion, it is so far outside of my natural response that I still feel like an awkward novice.

I had a rough morning. In many ways, it wasn’t all that bad, but it rocked me a bit. I got up and rushed away from the family on my holiday for a therapy appointment, trying to be on time. When I arrived, I found that I had received a text from my therapist ten minutes before leaving asking if we could reschedule. She commented, “I know you hate unexpected changes, can this be an exposure to reschedule? 😂😬”

I actually had very little problem adjusting the plan and rescheduling with her. But I was so damn mad at myself for not looking at my phone before I left. Since I am rescheduling for tomorrow, I felt guilty that I will be taking a couple hours away from the kids and my wife in addition to the hour today in travel time.

I called my wife and told her what had happened. She comforted me and tried to challenge some of my thinking. “If you had texted your therapist an hour before your session saying you were ill and needed to reschedule and she didn’t see it and drove in anyway, would that be her fault? Or would it still be your fault, or no one’s fault?” I thought for a minute and replied it was somewhere in between my fault and no one’s fault. She chuckled and reminded me that a little self-compassion might help here.

In my treatment follow-up session a couple days ago, my other therapist reminded me of the steps of self-compassion:

1. Be kind to myself
2. Remember my common humanity
3. Be mindful of what I am feeling

As I thought about those steps, I felt a wave of comfort wash over me. I could tell myself, “It’s ok to be upset. It’s not wrong to be mad right now. This is hard for me, and doesn’t need to not be hard.” I felt able to acknowledge my part in this without beating myself up. We will just move forward and do the best we can with the next couple of days. Almost right on cue, my wife sent me more compassion in another text.

Love you. Sorry it’s hard. There is no right way to do things in this situation. So there’s no failure.

I wanted to record this experience so I can come back to it. I will certainly have a similar situation come up again. I hope that the more I practice, the more easily and naturally the instinct for self-compassion will come. We could all use a little more of that.

Life can quickly get overwhelming, and if you allow yourself to be paralyzed by waiting for perfection, you will miss out on many opportunities.

As I have finished my OCD treatment and returned back to normal everyday living, I have found myself writing less and less. Part of the issue is the natural hustle and bustle of life. But as I step back for some introspection, the brutal truth is that I have been avoiding it. I have been waiting to have something truly meaningful to say.

I need to stop waiting and start writing.

While I was in the middle of intensive treatment, it was clear to me that I was writing to benefit my mental health. But after graduating from treatment, I was taking less time to think about myself—how I was doing and how to improve. In many ways, that is a good thing. I am going to be happiest as I seek to make other people happy. But as in all things, a balance must be achieved.

Deep down, I know that part of what has held me back from writing more is the feeling of shouting into the void. There is not a large reader base waiting for me to publish again, and so the pressure is less than in other areas of my life. However, throughout the course of this year, I have learned that writing is a helpful exercise for me and my mind. I do not need an audience. I am my audience. The act of processing my thoughts sufficiently to express them is healthy and productive, and requires no other validation to be worthwhile. Hopefully I can remember that.

My impressions and reactions from the announcements this morning.

This was an exciting morning. I have the opportunity this week to be in San Jose with my team from work. Along with two other guys, I did not get WWDC tickets, so we are enjoying AltConf and Layers instead.

The thing that struck me most was the inclusion of SwiftUI in the keynote. I am thrilled that it exists, and I love that it got so much stage time. It felt like a portion of the State of the Union got picked up and plopped in a few hours earlier.

Announcing SwiftUI made this keynote feel like the most developer-focused event in years.

As a customer, I am even more thrilled with the iPadOS announcement. When I am not in Xcode, I prefer to be on my iPad Pro, and this will solidify that even more. When the SwiftUI demo was being shown, my first thought was that it looked very similar to Swift Playgrounds, and I have a not-so-secret hope to get Xcode on the iPad this year.

This will be an interesting week. There are so many positive changes I can tell are coming to impact our daily developer life, and I can’t wait to learn more about them.

Acknowledging and welcoming emotions, even painful ones, makes it possible to process and digest them in a healthy way.

I continue to have experiences that illustrate principles I am learning in my OCD treatment. I suppose that is due to the Baader–Meinhof effect. A skill we recently discussed is emotion regulation, which is essentially the ability to identify and process your emotions healthily. In the middle of learning about this, I had a situation that felt straight out of a textbook.

We had a meeting at work in which some news was shared that was difficult for me to handle. I asked a question, and was frustrated that the answers seemed to not align with what I really wanted to know. Later in the day, I was discussing the experience, and realized what was happening: I was angry. It struck me like a thunderclap. As soon as I realized that, a wave of anger and relief washed over me simultaneously. When I allowed myself to be angry, and validated that the experience was hard for me, I was relieved.

I had not realized that I was repressing my emotions until I stopped. I had been “shoulding” all over myself and invalidating my experience. I felt fear at making someone defensive, and so when they responded in a defensive way, I felt frustrated that they misunderstood me. In reality, it made sense that they were defensive, because I was upset at them for the situation. I was just denying that, even to myself.

Since that moment, I have continued to find that allowing myself to honestly acknowledge my emotions has permitted me to fully feel them, and then quickly move forward. I recognize that I will not always be able to do this successfully, but at least I know it is possible. It is a skill that I can improve with attention and practice. And so can you.

The Calm app impressed me this weekend when I broke my streak.

I posted recently about my 90 day meditation streak. Last weekend, I missed my meditation on Saturday, which I realized Sunday. Part of my OCD is an obsession for streaks, so when I found that I blew my 90+ day streak, I felt my stomach drop out of my body.

Part of me wanted to not even meditate on Sunday. “What was the point? I already blew it,” my mind tried to convince me. My wife pointed out that I still had the advantage of everything I learned in those 94 days—I did not lose that by breaking the streak.

Almost out of necessity, I took a few minutes out to meditate. When I finished, I expected the app to say something that would feel shaming because I had failed. I was pleasantly surprised to find positive encouragement instead.

Rather than seeing that I now had a streak of one day, I saw that I had 95 mindful days.

That simple choice by a product manager or designer on the Calm app team made a significant difference for me. It was a needed emotional boost on a difficult day. Whereas I had been nearly despondent at losing my streak, I became encouraged. I was reminded how much I had accomplished and not allowed to wallow in my disappointment.

This is a lesson I hope to remember. Whether for myself or others, I want to emphasize what truly matters.

It’s ok that I’m not that funny. Just because I’ve listened to comedians on THWoD doesn’t mean I have to be one.

I’ve mentioned a few times, and will again, that my current favorite podcast is The Hilarious World of Depression. Many of the guests have been comedians and have talked about dealing with their mental health through comedy.

The more I listened to comedians grappling with their mental health, the more I thought I should become a comedian too. I even told my wife that was my new life plan—to do stand-up comedy. It seemed like the logical next step. There was only one problem.

I’m not that funny.

I can get some laughs occasionally. I teach at a programming boot camp, and I often say something that is funny enough for the students to laugh. And that feeling! When I say something that connects with people, something inside me is filled I didn’t know was empty.

At the same time, I recognize that I am not naturally funny. My wife is, however. Without much effort, she says and writes things that make people laugh. As a child, I was never particularly funny. I knew people who were, but I was never comfortable enough with myself for that kind of attention.

This doesn’t mean I won’t ever try stand-up. I’m intrigued by improv. There seem to be many associated benefits, and it is scary enough that I think I should give it a go.

The key has been coming to terms with myself as I am now and being content with that. I don’t have to reinvent myself. I also don’t need to hold myself back from exploring desires or dreams that I have. If I want to pursue comedy, I can. But I don’t have to in order to be happy with who I am. I am valuable just as I am right now.

A few thoughts on the process and effects of writing my first series, “What mental illness feels like.”

As I shared in the conclusion of my overview of my series on mental illness, this was a learning exercise for me. This topic had been on my mind for a couple months. Part of the reason was to better understand my own experiences. In that sense, it was a resounding success.

Another big part of me hopes that this series can be helpful to someone. As I wrote a couple weeks ago, I have come to realize that I belong to a special society of sufferers, and our membership numbers at least in the millions. There are so many people who are struggling to cope with crushing despair at learning they have a mental illness. Amidst that despair is also hope. We can learn to live well, even with mental illness as our companion.

Part of the power of fright is the risk of the unknown. When a topic becomes off-limits to discuss or even consider, it gains influence and momentum in our lives. We need to tear open the shutters and let in some daylight to see what we are actually facing. Mental illness festers and strengthens in darkness. When we reveal it for what it really is, we come to see that, yes, it is scary, but it is also faceable. Just as the prophet-poet Isaiah said of the devil,

All they shall speak and say unto thee, Art thou also become weak as we? art thou become like unto us? How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! how art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations! They that see thee shall narrowly look upon thee, and consider thee, saying, Is this the man that made the earth to tremble, that did shake kingdoms; That made the world as a wilderness, and destroyed the cities thereof?

Isaiah 14:10,12,16-17

As we become more comfortable talking about uncomfortable things, those topics can metamorphose. We will probably continue to handle them gently, but we can handle them. One of the first skills that mental illness often steals is that of self-compassion. And so we need to borrow and learn compassion from others.

I loved the experience of exploring a topic in great depth over a series of posts, and look forward to the opportunity to do it again. In the meantime, I plan to continue posting regularly about mental health (💮), as well as other thoughts and feelings I have. I would be thrilled to hear from you with suggestions for future series, or thoughts on what has been helpful for you, or just about anything else. You can reach me on Micro.blog as @bennorris, or email me at ben@bennorris.org.

This never works as a parent. We can’t tell someone to do the action that represents the feeling we want them to develop.

I went out on a walk a few days ago, and overhead a scuffle between a couple small children. One of them started crying, and then the dad noticed. He yelled out, “Tell him sorry right now!” I had to chuckle to myself as I continued walking. I completely understood the dad, and how easy it is to say something so unhelpful and asinine.

Most likely, the dad wanted the offending child to actually be sorry. He wanted the child to learn that what he had done was not acceptable, and to feel remorse. If the child had actually felt remorse, an apology would have naturally followed. As parents, we recognize how silly it is to tell our children, “Feel sorry for what you just did.” It is so much easier to focus on the action rather than the feeling, and so that is where our parenting focuses.

This is similar in many ways to the phenomenon I noticed a few weeks ago, and wrote about in Living with incompetence. We often settle for focusing on what is easier to measure, and leave aside the more important, but more amorphous, root cause.

When we fall into this trap as parents, we teach our children the same behavior. They grow up learning that recognizing and feeling remorse for injuring someone else is not important, but rather the outward expression of those feelings. We don’t need to feel a certain way—we just have to act a certain way, and then we will be acceptable.

A better approach to this kind of situation is to stop any violence and then redirect our children’s attention to more positive actions. We ignore the inappropriate behavior as much as possible, and look for opportunities to reinforce positive behavior. Then later, we can have a discussion with the child when emotions have calmed. We can explain why the behavior was wrong, and the impact it has on other people. We don’t need to teach our children to feel remorse; instead we teach them empathy, and when they injure another, the remorse naturally follows.

In my opinion, one of the biggest problems attacking society, and especially our children, today is a lack of empathy. We have become utterly self-absorbed, and all events and actions are viewed in relation to their impact on us. We have lost the ability to put ourselves in someone else’s shoes and see how our behavior and actions might be affecting them.

We must first master this skill in our own lives. We have to be self-aware enough to get outside of ourselves and care more about other people. As we develop and model this behavior, we become capable of passing it on to others, especially our children. As a result, the world will be a much better place.

We often attach so many expectations and hopes to recommendations we give others that we deny them the opportunity to simply experience the moment.

I recently returned from a vacation with my brother in Mexico. He was able to live in San Carlos for eight months last year, as his company has an office down there. I tagged along for a business trip of his, and we had a great time relaxing.

While we were there, I noticed an interesting phenomenon in myself. There were a few evenings when we watched a movie together, and they were typically ones that I recommended that he had not yet seen. I found that I had an increased level of anxiety as we watched those movies, and I was worried about whether he would like my recommendations. I wanted them to be just as great for him as they were for me.

Because he had lived there for a while, many of the food options we chose were recommendations from him. He wanted me to try some of his favorite spots. I projected the same kind of anxiety on him for these recommendations. I felt pressure to like the food so that he would not feel bad. I’m sure that he did feel some anxiety, but not to the level that I created in myself.

I realized how common this is. Almost anytime we give someone a recommendation, we get emotionally invested in it. We want so badly for the other person to have the same wonderful experience that we did. Ironically, this heightened desire often makes that enjoyment impossible.

The problem is that introducing additional expectations can be toxic. We take a situation which may be just fine, but by building it up to be amazing it becomes a disappointment. Even in instances when it is not a letdown, the additional stress we have introduced invariably detracts from the enjoyment everyone involved could have had.

We have to remember that there is no success or failure attached to recommendations. When we give a recommendation, we are offering a possibility, not a guarantee. In the best situations, we merely provide the idea for someone to do something. They may choose to do it or not. They may enjoy it or not. They may recommend it further or not.

If we can separate the expectations from the situation and approach the situation with curiosity, we provide a safe place for true enjoyment. The key is for us to allow each other, and even ourselves, to merely experience the moment with no judgment attached.

There are enough times when “How are you?” comes from someone for whom “Good to see you” is not the correct response to merit further consideration.

A couple weeks ago, I shared my thoughts on the common greeting, How are you? In that article, I expressed my displeasure with this question, particularly as someone who struggles with mental health. My reply of choice was to sidestep the question and neither answer truthfully nor lie, and simply state, “Good to see you.”

Since that time, I have noticed a number of occasions when even this is not appropriate. One of the most common of these situations for me has occurred while shopping. Since I have been on a healing retreat the past couple weeks, I have not interacted with friends and colleagues as often. I have been surprised at how often I am still confronted with this personal question from complete strangers.

When I do not know the person at all, responding with, “Good to see you” is not appropriate. Partly it sounds weird, but mostly it simply is not true. Most of the time, I would be much happier if I could shop efficiently and effectively without speaking with anyone.

So I have taken a new approach in these situations. When someone greets me, “How are you?” I simply respond, “Thank you.” Often it’s followed with a question that I actually have, such as the location of a specific item.

I have found some interesting reactions to my “thank you” response. Most of the time, people just continue on without missing a beat. We have merely exchanged polite niceties and can now continue with our information transaction. Occasionally, an observant person will be a bit taken aback that I have not answered the question. And my favorite has been a response back of, “Fine, thanks.” There is an assumption that not only did I answer the question, but I asked a similar one in return.

This new approach of mine has done a couple things for me.

First, it has reminded me of how little people actually listen. This is hard for me to stomach, and is part of the reason I had to come up with an alternative response in the first place. What I say impacts me much more than most people with whom I interact.

Second, this has resolved a further point of distress. It has enabled me to move more gracefully through social interactions that might otherwise be awkward or painful.

This may or may not be the right approach for you to take. I encourage you to explore your responses to common situations and evaluate whether any change is needed. Most importantly, I urge you to consider no longer throwing away personal questions as greetings. Save them for the people who matter the most to you, and then care enough to get a real answer.

Instead of ordering the best value, order the size you actually want.

I imagine that my experience is similar to yours. When I go to order food, I am mentally doing a quick calculation between the different sizes to identify the best value. If 20oz is only 50¢ more than 16oz, it is nearly impossible to order the smaller size. Even when I actually want the smaller size.

This leads to many different problems. Instead of being satisfied with my order, I have to choose between eating to discomfort, or grappling with the feeling of having wasted food. Often times, I will eat more than I wanted so that I am taking full advantage of the great value that I got.

I remember a particularly poignant example of this when eating at Smashburger one day. They were having a promotion on the Triple Double which made it even cheaper than the regular burger. I did not actually want that much meat, but I felt compelled to order the bigger burger for cheaper. My friend came behind me and ordered the same burger, but asked for only a single hamburger patty. I was struck by the brilliancy of his solution. That had never even crossed my mind.

As I have been on my healing retreat, I have seen a few movies in the theater. I used this as an opportunity to practice the new approach I wanted to take. It is a real challenge for me to pay $4 for a smaller bucket of popcorn, when the large is $5 and comes with a free refill. The thing is, I can never eat that much popcorn without getting sick. So I have forced myself to order the smaller size and stop worrying about the value I am missing out on. And I have enjoyed my movies much more with just the right amount of popcorn.

There are many situations in life when we make choices based on the perceived value of the options. Instead, we need to become more comfortable with ourselves, and more aware of our desires. And then be willing to act based on what we actually want, not what we think we should want. This is a much happier, and more comfortable, way to live.

When gratitude is trivialized too often and too thoughtlessly, we run the risk of discouraging it to the point where it stops altogether.

As I have been in Mexico, I have noticed an interesting linguistic phenomenon. By far, the most common response I’ve noticed to someone expressing gratitude is, „De nada.” I’m sure there are part of the U.S. where “No problem” or “It’s nothing” are the most common responses to “Thank you” as well, so this is nothing of a cultural indictment. But it got me thinking.

I wrote recently about trivializing apologies. The fact that we do that feels more explicable to me than our tendency to do the same with gratitude. With an apology, we at least might be seeking to extend mercy or uplift the other person.

However, when we trivialize gratitude, I think we do it thoughtlessly, even without realizing it. Just as with personal questions masquerading as greetings, we can fall into the trap of using societal niceties without considering what they actually mean, or the effect they might have.

Perhaps this will be easier to understand when we stop to think more about what is actually happening when someone expresses gratitude. Of course, there are thoughtless “Thank you”s bandied about, and they can muddy the waters. But typically when someone expresses appreciation, it represents a moment of vulnerability. They are self-aware enough to notice feelings of respect, admiration, or gratitude, and they are opening themselves up to expressing those emotions. It is often not easy to share our true emotions, and if sharing is not met with gentleness, it can be truly painful.

When we respond to appreciation with phrases such as, “Oh, it was nothing,” or, “No problem at all,” we are probably trying to be modest. We don’t want to appear conceited, and somehow believe that if we validate what the other person is saying, we will be perceived as arrogant enough to assume that what we did was important and merited thanks. When we fall into this mindset, we are being selfish and self-centered.

When someone thanks you, you are not the point. Not even your actions are the point. The point is the other person, and their willingness to express themselves. That ought to be welcomed and celebrated. We would be much better off if everyone was more wiling to share what truly matters to them.

So the next time someone appreciates you, stay in the moment for a minute. Resist the urge to think of yourself and how you might appear. Focus on that person and the feelings they are sharing. Honor and validate that sharing, and encourage it to continue.

In our efforts to reassure someone that their transgression was not overly severe, we can inadvertently trivialize the effort it took for them to apologize to us.

It is not uncommon for our natural instinct to preserve harmony and avoid discomfort to emerge when someone tries to apologize. We become uncomfortable that the other person is regretting what they have done, and seek to assure them that we are not upset. As I wrote about a few weeks ago in Replacing sorry, we sometimes do this even when the other person is not apologizing. They say the words, “I’m sorry” and we immediately feel compelled to tell them that it’s fine.

This scenario plays out so frequently that it deserves more thought and introspection. I think that part of our instinct comes from a good and natural desire to not let another person take full blame when they are not completely guilty. In his wonderful book How to Win Friends and Influence People, Dale Carnegie tells a story of using that instinct to his benefit, and suggests that we can similar.

I was in for it. I knew it. So I didn’t wait until the policeman started talking. I beat him to it. I said: “Officer, you’ve caught me red-handed. I’m guilty. I have no alibis, no excuses.“

That policeman, being human, wanted a feeling of importance; so when I began to condemn myself, the only way he could nourish his self-esteem was to take the magnanimous attitude of showing mercy.

Instead of breaking lances with him, I admitted that he was absolutely right and I was absolutely wrong; I admitted it quickly, openly, and with enthusiasm. The affair terminated graciously in my taking his side and his taking my side.

When we are right, let’s try to win people gently and tactfully to our way of thinking, and when we are wrong—and that will be surprisingly often, if we are honest with ourselves—let’s admit our mistakes quickly and with enthusiasm. Not only will that technique produce astonishing results; but, believe it or not, it is a lot more fun, under the circumstances, than trying to defend oneself.

Another reason for our aversion to apologies is that we want to feel merciful. There are selfish and selfless tendencies at work here. We feel a noble desire to uplift the other person. We see them suffering, and want to do our part to relieve that suffering. However, too often, we are more concerned with our feelings than theirs. If someone apologizes to us, that puts us in a position of judgment and we want to feel the satisfaction that comes from extending mercy and we assume the way to achieve this is to say that the apology was unnecessary.

Often, we dismiss the need for an apology because we are not comfortable with sitting in the emotions that it stirs up. We do not feel willing to take ownership for our own mistakes and truly apologize for them, and so we have a hard time hearing someone else do it. Guilt is an uncomfortable companion.

However, this is not always the case. I had an experience this week that made me think about this more deeply. I joined my brother in Mexico for his business trip, and we were able to stay in a condo that his company owns. He was bringing tacos so we could eat lunch together. A few minutes before he was supposed to arrive, I got back from a walk and took a quick shower. Almost as soon as I got in, I heard him come in, and I regretted my decision. When I got out of the shower, I told him, “I want to apologize, and I don’t want you to trivialize it.” He was a little taken aback, and said he was ready to hear it. I told him that I was sorry I had taken a shower and cut it so close. I felt like he had made an effort to come back so we could enjoy lunch together, and I had thoughtlessly wasted some of that time. He replied that he appreciated my apology, and also felt that we had plenty of time, and was not bothered that some of it was spent with me in the shower.

That felt like a pretty perfect interaction.

A true apology is a major moment of vulnerability. When someone is willing to be that honest with themselves to recognize that they feel regret for their actions, and then are willing to put themselves out and tell someone, we should honor that. Respecting their vulnerability doesn’t mean that we have to agree with them. But if our response is dismissive, we trivialize an act that was anything but trivial. We also miss out on an opportunity for a real, human connection.

I hope that I can be better at admitting when I am wrong and truly apologizing, regardless of how it might be received. I also hope that I, and all of us, can be more gentle when someone is willing to be honest and vulnerable enough to apologize. If we can do that, we will encourage that behavior, and make it easier to be vulnerable in the future. And that is a good thing.

It is important to acknowledge and validate your own suffering irrespective of its intensity relative to the suffering of someone else. You don’t have to suffer the most in order to have suffered.

It can be a real challenge to allow yourself to have a hard time. All too often, even in the midst of struggling, you say to yourself, “I know someone else has it worse.” While that may be true, it is not usually helpful or healthy.

I think that people who struggle with mental health issues are particularly prone to fall into this trap. I hear many people on my new favorite podcast, The Hilarious World of Depression, minimize their own struggles and say that others have a much harder time.

This is a cognitive distortion—a mental trap that has the effect of trivializing your experience. It actually doesn’t matter at all if someone else has suffered the same, or less, or more than you. If you are suffering, let yourself suffer. Acknowledge that it is hard. Validate your experience. Treat yourself with compassion.

This can be much easier to see when framed in the context of someone else, instead of yourself. Imagine this scenario. A friend comes to you and describes a situation that is causing her anxiety and stress. You listen carefully, and after she has broken down crying and shared everything with you, you respond, “I know someone who has it much worse than you. You ought to be grateful you don’t have it as bad as she.”

How would your friend feel in that moment? Instead of offering sympathy and compassion, you have made her feel insignificant and worthless. You have not validated her or the experience she is having.

When I think of this example, I have a visceral reaction. I cannot fathom doing that to someone else. And yet, I do it to myself all the time. All. The. Time.

My hope is that in thinking more about this, I can remember to treat myself with kindness and compassion. I urge you to do the same. We are all in such need of this.