Happiness

Someone in my writer's group asked for my opinion of his article on happiness.  It got me thinking about the subject and I thought I'd put my thoughts here.

Happiness, like love, is hard to define, but we know it when we feel it. Sometimes happiness feels like relief, for example when you receive a little windfall just in time to avoid some small financial problem.  Or, it may feel like fun when you play with your child and peek into her world.  Exhilaration may make us happy, if only for the time it takes to realize that it is gone as quickly as it came.

My view of happiness is two fold:  We must be content and not get overwhelmed.

Contentment has to do with having enough.  We each have to define what enough is for ourselves. And - this is important - we have to know we have enough.  I think it is the striving, the competition, the constant comparison to others that make us unhappy.  I think certain things are important to happiness, but perhaps not essential:  food, health, connectedness.  Obviously, if our lack of food or health is too great, we die.  But food and health are not in themselves, happiness.  We must have enough.  Connection to others, even to an animal companion, is also important.  I think it possible to have only past connections and still be happy, if those connections were enough.

So what is enough?  For me, enough is paying my bills, having satisfying work, being competent, being needed and knowing I can fulfill my responsibilities.  It means having only manageable pain. It means accepting my limits even while I reach beyond them.  My enough includes both people and animals I love and who love me back, though often they are aggravating or not actively engaged in making me happy.

The second part is the dicey part.  It is so easy to become overwhelmed.  At times it seems life beats us down.  The car breaks down, the boss is unhappy, the child is sick, a friend dies, responsibilities pile up, we are unjustly accused - it all feels so out of our control.  The truth is, much of it is out of our control. Equally true, is that a good part of it has as much to do with our attitude as with circumstances.

Understanding that life is just as it is whether we like it, or can change it, or even if we can understand it, brings a kind of relief.  It is not up to me, or you, to change the nature of life.  It is what it is.  If we are fortunate, our children will outlive us and our parents will die before us. Our pets will die. We will have heartbreak and hardship.  We will also know love, adventure, friendship.  We will taste wonderful foods and see beautiful sights. We may create something. We may make a difference in someone's life.  We will die but we also will live.

The happiest people I have known are not those who are rich, though having enough to remove financial stress is helpful.  The happiest people are those who can roll with life's punches.  I knew one woman who was simply never happy.  Every blow life dealt her was new each morning. She hoarded them as surely as she hoarded the bins of shampoo, dry mixes, and other sundries she kept in her spare room. I knew another, a homeless woman, who laughed everyday at something, even her own situation.  She also cried.  She was not delusional, but she kept her grip on what was good in her life.

This is what happiness looks like for me:  I can sit in my home, warm under a blanket, while it is cold outside, full from a simple dinner I cooked myself, tired from meaningful work I did all day, knowing my family and friends are just a phone call away.  It is enough.  I will keep reaching for more, not because I need it but because the challenge exists and I will be satisfied with all I achieve.  When I feel overwhelmed I wait.  I know it will pass.  I breathe in contentment and breathe out strife. It is enough.

My Daughter's Day Off

My elder daughter has three children, one with special needs.  Since his birth, her life has been one of constant care, anxiety, and work.  The little boy, now 15 months, was born with the rarest of genetic disorders that a generation ago would have killed him within days.  Now, due to newborn screening and constant vigilance, this little kid has a chance of a very good life.  My daughter, however, has not slept a single night for two years, has eliminated dairy and egg from her diet because of his allergies, and has learned how to cook almost exclusively with coconut oil to accommodate his disorder.  So, I thought for Christmas I would give her what she most needs: time to herself.

I made her a little basket with gift cards and items to use while shopping or on her personal care.  Yesterday she took her "Day Off" and put me in charge for one day of her kids and her household. I drove the little girl to school and the older, homeschooled girl, to her PE session at the community center. An hour later, I picked her up and drove her home. My daughter handed me the baby and left -  not without some anxiety about taking a day for herself.

I homeschooled my older granddaughter while I chopped veggies for a Crockpot soup for dinner. Her brother woke early from his nap and I prepared his special foods.  His disorder affects the way his body digests certain fats and the only fat safe for him is coconut oil.  So I prepared his dry peanut butter with his special oil and made him his sandwich. I washed his fruit and cut it up for him. All the while I listened to my granddaughter recite her math problems. I cooked burritos for lunch using my daughter's raw tortilla shells.  I burned the first one. 

I read and re-read a single book to my grandson, took countless items from his curious little hands, and followed him around the house.  While he sat playing with some toys I was able to unload the dishwasher but not load it again.  I wiped down surfaces in the kitchen and picked up some of the fallen food from around the highchair.

When it was time to pick up the little girl from playschool, I bundled my grandson up against the cold, strapped him into his carseat and took off.  Following that, I spent about 40 minutes in the playground at the school and while the girls played, I followed after my grandson, he got into the sand, wanted repeated lifts to the slide and enjoyed swinging for a bit.

On the drive home I listened while the older girl whined and sulked about the behavior of a little boy half her age on the playground. Back at home it was time to do some serious chores and I set the girls to work folding laundry while I put a dark load in to run.  I changed the boy, set him up with some toys, and for five minutes got to load the dishwasher again. 

Finally, I got the baby back down for a nap and got each girl settled in separate rooms to watch their favorite shows.  I swept the kitchen, wiped the table, fixed the folded laundry the four-year-old had stuffed into the linen closet and seasoned the soup.  It was nearly four o'clock and I hadn't sat down all day.

My hat is off to all you moms who do this every day!  Whether you work a job or work at home, you are responsible for a lot that no one ever sees or thanks you for.  So, thank you!  I hope you get a day off soon.

Why do anything hard?

I've been thinking a lot lately about why we choose to do difficult things.  Some things we simply have to do.  For some people, getting up everyday for work is difficult.  Others may find themselves in life-or-death situations where the choice is clear.  However, many of us choose to do what is hard when it is not necessary.

Who has not seen a jogger out in shorts on a cold morning and thought, "Why is he doing that?" For that is surely a choice, one that most people, driving by in heated cars, would not make.  But for the jogger, there is no choice.  Like mountain climbers, joggers do it because "it is there."

Some hard choices are made out of love.  I once gave a kidney to a relative.  I don't choose surgery easily, but I felt the benefits to her outweighed the risks to me.  Following my divorce, years ago, I chose to stay in the town where my children grew up, though other parts of the country beckoned to me.  Again, I balanced their need for stability at a vulnerable time in their lives against my desire to start anew elsewhere.  Both things were hard. I regret neither.

Sometimes it is the challenge of the thing itself that drives us.  My significant other has endured numerous surgeries to continue as a competitive fencer and coach. At 73, he still teaches five nights a week.  Other choices are made out of duty.  People join the armed services out of duty.  Some people take care of elderly relatives more out of duty than love.  Still others choose a difficult task because it needs to be done and no one else is doing it.

I recently took on such a task. I decided to write a layman's guide to a class of rare genetic disorders. My goal is for it to be useful to both patients and their primary care doctors.  My research for this project keeps me humble.  For every time I think I understand my subject, I look up one last thing only to find myself scrambling down yet another complex rabbit hole of a tangent.  At times this is exhilarating, at other times it is discouraging. I often feel like Alice - sometimes 10 feet tall, other times, very small. It is the nature of the hard task.

No one is making me do this.  I am not being paid to do this.  I anticipate that I will find a publisher but I hold out no hope for monetary reward anywhere near commensurate with my efforts. I am doing this out of love for my grandson, who has such a disorder. I am doing it because, like the mountain, it is there.  Mostly, I am doing it because I think I am the best person to do it.

I am not an academic, though I am smart.  I am not a scientist, though I worked in the sciences for years in an auxiliary role. What I am is someone who has spent her career digesting complex subjects and making them accessible to the appropriate audiences.  I have written about the natural history of lily pads, about backroom political deals, about animal behaviors, about drug addiction, homelessness, veteran issues and more.  I am also someone who has heard the pleas of parents for more information, for explanations they can understand, for the right questions for them to ask.  I have the skills, the desire, and the time.  I do this by choice.

Can a nobody write a serious book?

My current work in progress is a nonfiction reference book on rare genetic diseases. You can scroll down a bit to read about it.  I've gotten some feedback from folks who "don't want to discourage me" but who warn me that without being a doctor or some specialist I don't have a chance of this book taking off.  I beg to differ.

It's very easy these days for celebrities to get a book published.  They bring with them name recognition so that even if they are writing something off the topic of their own celebrity, people will still buy their book.  Hence the proliferation of children's books and how-to books by celebrities. And I acknowledge that having a name helps sell books.  I also understand that medical books need the gravitas that specialists in the field provide.

The problem is that no one - no celebrity and no medical specialist - is writing this book. There is no book.  There are numerous academic papers written by very credible scientists and doctors.  But there is no book.  There is information online, but a lot of it is old and invalidated by more recent research. What is needed is a kind of manual for families and quick reference for front-line doctors.

Do I believe this will be easy?  No.  I've been a writer all my life and I understand the kind of research and hard work this demands. I know such a work is needed and I know I am up to the task.  So to those who tell me it cannot be done, I say, watch me do it!

The things we do for love

I really hate asking people to do things for me.  I'd rather walk through weeds or pay someone than ask someone to cut my grass, for example.  But there comes a time when one must ask for help and this is one of those times.  So here goes:

Today I am launching what is for me a labor of love and I am asking for your help. As many of you know, my beautiful grandson was born with a rare genetic disorder. A private FB group is currently the only support for families such as mine. Every day these parents go online looking for answers from other families. Every day I read about how little is known, how ignorant many doctors are about this, and now and then about a child who has died.

I decided to do something.

I am writing a book to be used by both doctors and the families of those affected. It will include the latest research, list doctors and medical centers with experience in this, and provide a wealth of wisdom from the parents themselves. No such reference currently exists. It is an ambitious work and I need a publisher if I am to get this into the hands of front-line pediatricians and general practitioners, who typically have no experience with FODs. Publishizer allows me to offer the book for pre-sale and if I get sufficient pre-orders of the book, publishers will take notice.

So, I want you to order a book I haven't written yet that you don't need. My suggestion is that you order it and allow me to give it to one of the families affected. These families struggle not only with the emotional burden of having a sick child but also with the added expenses of seeing genetic specialists, travel to do so, special formulas, repeated hospitalizations, and other expenses. Of course, if you want it for yourself, I will be happy to send it to you.

You can read my book proposal here and place your order. I have 45 days to sell 250 copies minimum. I would like to pre-sell 1,000. So, please, if I have touched your life in any way, order my book and share this post. If you know me, you know I will do a great job. Thank you.
Publishizer link: https://publishizer.com/fatty-acid-oxidation-disorders-and…/

My Hands, My Tools

All my life I have enjoyed extraordinary health.  Sure, I get the occasional sinus infection, cold, virus, etc.  but I have arrived at the age of 64 without having to battle cancer, heart disease, or any of the other serious diseases so many people battle, even at half my age.  I have two friends with autoimmune diseases, one of my brothers had lung cancer, another died of a stroke.

The bane of my existence is simple repetitive stress injuries.  You name it; I've got it.  Plantar fasciitis, check.  Bursitis, check.  Carpal tunnel, check. Cervical stenosis, check.  Now I can add to the list Cubital tunnel compression.  Most people have never heard of it but if you think of hitting your "funny bone" really hard, that's the nerve I'm talking about.  The nerve that sings when you strike your elbow extends both up and down the arm.  In my case, it has made it difficult for me to do simple things: type, turn keys and faucets, open jars, that kind of thing.  It also means I can't do pottery, which bums me out.

My options are limited.  I can have a painful surgery with an uncertain outcome or I suck it up.  So far with all my minor afflictions I have sucked up the alternatives: limiting myself, doing things differently, avoiding triggers, special shoes, exercises, etc.  But I just can't do without my right hand. I may have to have this surgery and rely on my extraordinary health to get me through to normal function again. For now I'm glad to have had a steroid shot right into the nerve - yes, it was as much fun as it sounds - but it has helped.  I know from past experience in other parts of my body that this relief won't last long, but I'll take it - for now.

Is Grammar Obsolete?

I belong to several writers' groups. In nearly all of them a debate simmers below the surface: Does grammar matter?
The Pros' argument goes along these lines:  Of course it matters.  It's part of the craft.  Punctuation changes the meaning of sentences.  Poor spelling and improper word use stops a reader from becoming engrossed in the story.
The Cons' argument follows this tact: It doesn't matter if you use the wrong to or your.  The reader will figure it out.  Grammar Nazis are just snobby.  Grammer is obsolete.  I write and speak just fine, thank you very much.
So I culled some examples of error from a few different sources, including, but not limited to some of these writing groups.  This is just a casual culling from one afternoon.  I am not attributing anything so as not to embarrass and have changed any identifying words for the same reason.  I have left the errors exactly as they appeared.

• They were to philosophy what an American Team were to ...
• Your allowed
• Don't move to quick
• The human brian
• Math lab busted
• It has always bothered me the idea ...
• If a man needs rewarded ...
• Kindness is it's own reward
• For each and every authors ...
• It is a fantastic story how a woman falls in love when she less expect and he can’t let his ex-girlfriend go, they try to resist to find and accept that they are made for each other. 
• There is a mystery involving them, they don’t understand why they keep running into each other, but they are determined to find out. 
• Our black hairs blues eyes grandbaby is here.

Ok, so by the examples above, not unusual, or chosen for being especially bad, what do you think?  I think we need to pay a little more attention to communicating what we actually mean.