When we go through some physical problems we also go through mental challenges too. It's the nature of being human, our mind and body work together and only rarely is pure harmony occurs where nothing bad happens. But as noted, that's rare and almost always we think too much and often condemn ourself in the process when it doesn't happen and worse when things go wrong, even medically.
And that causes changes to us, our character, temperament and personality. Everything changes. The old becomes forgotten. The habits become stuff collecting mental dust in corners and things to do piled loosely around our mind. And the new becomes overwhelming. We find ourself asking not just the what if questions, but why does it matter questions. And we find the answers don't fit who we were let alone who we are.
We change, sometimes tremendously where we're not the same person in any way or manner. And when we see this, often we don't as only others see it, we are taken back by who we have become, and often ashamed, but almost always lost. Lost that we didn't realize it during the change and didn't realize afterward until we ran into ourself.
It's like we kept looking in the mirror seeing our ourself as we were and then one morning as someone else, almost unrecognizable. We know it is ourself, but we know now it's not ourself, the one we thought and thought we knew. We don't know ourself anymore and we have to find our way to who we want to be from a strange place.
I woke up this week to find myself there. Standing in my home wondering what happened. All the problems of late, especially since last October and the recent discovery of a blocked pulmonary artery changed me where I'm not me as I thought of me. Some of this change relates to the medication and the physical side effects which changed my life since then.
I've stopped the medication, far short of the time prescribed by my physician and cardiologist and am getting through the body's recovery to some new sense of normal, whatever that is. The medication drained me physically and then mentally, and now I find myself changed beyond where I even thought or even know.
I am not me while I am me. And I don't where the old me went and where the new me came from, except I know it's been me all along. I just don't know what me is me. This isn't new. I've been here before, just not so obvious a change. It reminds of the Peanuts cartoon I keep on my desk.
It shows Charlie Brown in bed with the blanket up to his chin and his eyes wide open. He's facing outward saying, "It's not wise to lie in bed at night and ask yourself questions you can't answer." It's what I've thought every morning this week waking up in the darkness of the early morning hours and lying there for some time before getting up.
And then nothing changed from my thoughts when I didn't get up. And I have no answers, just the questions I asked myself in the dark. The questions are old, as old the time of man, but it's new in that this is a new me I don't know. So I have to wander, searching for a me I recognize and know, enough to become me again.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Monday, February 7, 2011
Uncertainty Concept
Werner Heisenberg published the Uncertainty Principle in 1927 about quatum phyisics. And while that's what it applies to and has been updated over the years, the idea at the core of the principle has application in other areas. I'm not sure why they haven't been except in similarity or thought, but it does to me.
And that's because the underlying idea is that the observer of some phenomena can't know the speed and direction of something with absolute certainty. Note, the word "and" which means both. The principle means you can know one absolutely but only the other with some measure of uncertainty. That's because it has to do with the fact that in observing something your measurement tools influence that something, changing the other things.
That means you can know how fast something is going or which direction it's going with certainty but not both with certainty. So, how does that apply here? For one as the observer we can't observe ourselves without influencing ourselves in our observation. So ourself is biased by our observation of ourself.
Meaning we can know what we want to know with some measure of certainty and we can measure how we plan to decide or act with some certainty, but we can't know both. Really? It seems we could know what we know and know what we plan to decide or act. True, but then we're not observing ourselves doing this. It's when we observe ourself that things change.
In our observations of ourself we ask ourself questions about the quality of our thinking, our thoughts and our information. That means we're evaluating where we're failing or succeeding, or where we're simply missing information or lacking experience. We're adjusting our thinking by our own observations of ourself.
And the same applies to our decisions and actions. We're constantly evaluating those too and in that evaluation we're adjusting our decisions and actions by our observation. Many call these feedback loops within ourself to ourself and normal thinking. It's when we insert questions about the quality of our thoughts, decisions and actions that effects those very thoughts, decisions and actions.
Normal? Yeah, but when you're depressed, it's a self-fullfilling spiral where we ask ourself negative questions, make negatives comments and feed ourself negatives feelings. How can we measure how well we're doing and planning to decide or act if we keep interfering with ourself and keep feeding ourself negatives.
We become our own uncertainty. We keep trying to see how well or badly we're doing while we're thinking, deciding or acting, and then we try to evaluate how well we're succeeding or failing. We create the uncertainty and then try to keep it from our thoughts, decisions and actions forgetting we've lost the certainty of those thoughts, decisions and actions from our observations of ourself.
We forget that feelings are and should be felt in hindsight. We infuse feelings in the course of our thinking undermining ourself in the process. We are our own uncertainty keeping us from ourself, to find the thoughts, make the decisions, and take the actions we should for ourself than against ourself.
And the answer? Trust yourself. Forget observing yourself and just life and let the rest happen. Uncertainty only exists in our heart and mind, and all it does is hamper ourself with our own thoughts about ourself. You can always do it later, in hindsight when the uncertainty won't matter beyond what we could of, should of or would have done, but we didn't, so any uncertainty is long lost, swept away in time.
Uncertainty is good to a point. It's a matter of when it's not, someting we're often the least certain about it.
And that's because the underlying idea is that the observer of some phenomena can't know the speed and direction of something with absolute certainty. Note, the word "and" which means both. The principle means you can know one absolutely but only the other with some measure of uncertainty. That's because it has to do with the fact that in observing something your measurement tools influence that something, changing the other things.
That means you can know how fast something is going or which direction it's going with certainty but not both with certainty. So, how does that apply here? For one as the observer we can't observe ourselves without influencing ourselves in our observation. So ourself is biased by our observation of ourself.
Meaning we can know what we want to know with some measure of certainty and we can measure how we plan to decide or act with some certainty, but we can't know both. Really? It seems we could know what we know and know what we plan to decide or act. True, but then we're not observing ourselves doing this. It's when we observe ourself that things change.
In our observations of ourself we ask ourself questions about the quality of our thinking, our thoughts and our information. That means we're evaluating where we're failing or succeeding, or where we're simply missing information or lacking experience. We're adjusting our thinking by our own observations of ourself.
And the same applies to our decisions and actions. We're constantly evaluating those too and in that evaluation we're adjusting our decisions and actions by our observation. Many call these feedback loops within ourself to ourself and normal thinking. It's when we insert questions about the quality of our thoughts, decisions and actions that effects those very thoughts, decisions and actions.
Normal? Yeah, but when you're depressed, it's a self-fullfilling spiral where we ask ourself negative questions, make negatives comments and feed ourself negatives feelings. How can we measure how well we're doing and planning to decide or act if we keep interfering with ourself and keep feeding ourself negatives.
We become our own uncertainty. We keep trying to see how well or badly we're doing while we're thinking, deciding or acting, and then we try to evaluate how well we're succeeding or failing. We create the uncertainty and then try to keep it from our thoughts, decisions and actions forgetting we've lost the certainty of those thoughts, decisions and actions from our observations of ourself.
We forget that feelings are and should be felt in hindsight. We infuse feelings in the course of our thinking undermining ourself in the process. We are our own uncertainty keeping us from ourself, to find the thoughts, make the decisions, and take the actions we should for ourself than against ourself.
And the answer? Trust yourself. Forget observing yourself and just life and let the rest happen. Uncertainty only exists in our heart and mind, and all it does is hamper ourself with our own thoughts about ourself. You can always do it later, in hindsight when the uncertainty won't matter beyond what we could of, should of or would have done, but we didn't, so any uncertainty is long lost, swept away in time.
Uncertainty is good to a point. It's a matter of when it's not, someting we're often the least certain about it.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Running redux
I wrote a post about running about year and a half ago. That what when my running came to a near complete halt during health problems, which we (physicians, specialists and me) are still sorting out. The "near" is simply that I resorted to walking instead of running and longer distances.
When I discovered the situation with my pulmonary artery in December, running is now something I may hope to return to doing sometime in the future but not the immediate future. For now it's still walking, which is 2.5-3 miles one way to town and back. I need rewards for my walking, so the commercial center has cafes to rest, get a coffee and a snack, buy supplies I can carry home, and walk back.
All of this has had its effect on my perspectives on life, where I can now understand the frustrations of people who have medical conditions which have changed their life and who have medical conditions which defy understanding let alone a diagnosis and a treatment if not a cure. It changes everything, and there are days it's overwhelming, and I've learning to adjust to that too.
So that's the update. For now it's once a week walking, and should be twice a week, and I'm working up to that. The health issues has had their effects on my body which is older now too, so I have to work up to more trips or longer distances which I want to look at resuming hiking in Mt. Rainier NP later this spring. That's all I can do now, keep working, walking and hoping.
In a span of two years I've learned to be amazed what can happen and what one has to do to overcome what can be overcome, to change what can be changed, and to hope for what can be realistically hoped for. And maybe some day to run again.
When I discovered the situation with my pulmonary artery in December, running is now something I may hope to return to doing sometime in the future but not the immediate future. For now it's still walking, which is 2.5-3 miles one way to town and back. I need rewards for my walking, so the commercial center has cafes to rest, get a coffee and a snack, buy supplies I can carry home, and walk back.
All of this has had its effect on my perspectives on life, where I can now understand the frustrations of people who have medical conditions which have changed their life and who have medical conditions which defy understanding let alone a diagnosis and a treatment if not a cure. It changes everything, and there are days it's overwhelming, and I've learning to adjust to that too.
So that's the update. For now it's once a week walking, and should be twice a week, and I'm working up to that. The health issues has had their effects on my body which is older now too, so I have to work up to more trips or longer distances which I want to look at resuming hiking in Mt. Rainier NP later this spring. That's all I can do now, keep working, walking and hoping.
In a span of two years I've learned to be amazed what can happen and what one has to do to overcome what can be overcome, to change what can be changed, and to hope for what can be realistically hoped for. And maybe some day to run again.
Selfness
Self-esteem. Self-confidence. Self-empowerment. Everything selfness, but not self-centeredness or selfishness. Just self. It's also a matter of degrees. I strongly believe we're born with some measure of it, both positive and negative, and we learn from our experiences to affirm both sides. So it's a accumulation of the experiences with the innate sense of self that defines us.
It's the innate that's what we're given, and while we can change that through our experiences, we always seem to come back to it when we don't push ourselves. It's why and what's innate, where our mind likes to see and be. We can mentally and emotionally wander all around our selfness, but in the end, we'll always find our way home to what's innate and given, our sellfnes, our "unique individuality" (OED).
Which is what this essay is about. I wasn't handed a lot of self-esteem or self-confidence. And my experiences along with my genetic Dysthymia only reenforced the negative side of my innate view of myself. And during my childhood except for the few periods playing with my siblings, a year older sister who didn't want to play with me and a brother was six years old and long on gone in his own direction, I mostly played by myself.
I found I liked just being alone. I'm very comfortable there and more uncomfortable playing with others except in some circumstances, like baseball (Little League). Otherwise, I had my toys, or I created them from whatever I could find. I had a good imagination, something overlooked by parents who assume social play is the only positive learning, and I often made up long stories about people, places and events from what I had.
But when I got into junior and later my senior high school, it all became evident to me just how introspective and an alone type I was. It was who I was. I had long become someone who stuttered (started at age 5) and extremely shy, but really it was just that I liked being alone and was uncomfortable in social situations, which isn't good for high school as I was teased, for that and being short (like 5') and got into a few fights.
It was only after graduating and the failed year-plus time in college when I was in the Air Force that I slowly became comfortable with friends. It was the late 60's and we all had something in common about the times and being there to avoid the draft, the Army and Vietnam. And the drugs didn't hurt too.
Through all those years to where I am now, I'm still pretty much the same, just older and a lot more physically and mentally worn out or down. But the selfness is still there as much and as little as it was. I have more self-esteem and confidence, but only from experience which I gained over the years, but mostly though, it's hidden within myself and my aloneness.
While I don't stutter anymore (can control any moments) and I'm not shy, I still don't like social places or being in crowds except when I can focus on a small group of friends or what I'm doing, such as in cafes working on Web pages and other material. I like the atmosphere of the crowd, just not the initmacy of being with someone.
In the end I always go back to what's innate and given for me, my own selfness.
It's the innate that's what we're given, and while we can change that through our experiences, we always seem to come back to it when we don't push ourselves. It's why and what's innate, where our mind likes to see and be. We can mentally and emotionally wander all around our selfness, but in the end, we'll always find our way home to what's innate and given, our sellfnes, our "unique individuality" (OED).
Which is what this essay is about. I wasn't handed a lot of self-esteem or self-confidence. And my experiences along with my genetic Dysthymia only reenforced the negative side of my innate view of myself. And during my childhood except for the few periods playing with my siblings, a year older sister who didn't want to play with me and a brother was six years old and long on gone in his own direction, I mostly played by myself.
I found I liked just being alone. I'm very comfortable there and more uncomfortable playing with others except in some circumstances, like baseball (Little League). Otherwise, I had my toys, or I created them from whatever I could find. I had a good imagination, something overlooked by parents who assume social play is the only positive learning, and I often made up long stories about people, places and events from what I had.
But when I got into junior and later my senior high school, it all became evident to me just how introspective and an alone type I was. It was who I was. I had long become someone who stuttered (started at age 5) and extremely shy, but really it was just that I liked being alone and was uncomfortable in social situations, which isn't good for high school as I was teased, for that and being short (like 5') and got into a few fights.
It was only after graduating and the failed year-plus time in college when I was in the Air Force that I slowly became comfortable with friends. It was the late 60's and we all had something in common about the times and being there to avoid the draft, the Army and Vietnam. And the drugs didn't hurt too.
Through all those years to where I am now, I'm still pretty much the same, just older and a lot more physically and mentally worn out or down. But the selfness is still there as much and as little as it was. I have more self-esteem and confidence, but only from experience which I gained over the years, but mostly though, it's hidden within myself and my aloneness.
While I don't stutter anymore (can control any moments) and I'm not shy, I still don't like social places or being in crowds except when I can focus on a small group of friends or what I'm doing, such as in cafes working on Web pages and other material. I like the atmosphere of the crowd, just not the initmacy of being with someone.
In the end I always go back to what's innate and given for me, my own selfness.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Taking Issue
My sister, who is a year-plus older than me, finally found my blog and after reading some of the entries about my family took issue with my words. In some ways she is right, but mostly because of her perspective on the family and the events surrouinding each of our lives with our parents. We have both different experiences with them and now different views of that experience.
Hindsight is great for somethings, but mostly it's really unimportant to the world as it is right now. We are the results of our history, the experiences compounded on our character, personality and temperament. So while understanding those experience is a good thing and often quite useful and helpful, it's the act of hindisight that blurs the facts and reality.
That's because we don't remember anything completely and accurately. We remember snippets and snapshots of the experiences, people, places, events, etc. and we recreate them when we want to remember then or they want to find our consciousness. That's why they change with time. Only those from our youth are the most certain to be honest from what we knew and did then.
And that's what my sister pointed out, the facts I wrote weren't complete or accurate. In part she is right, I assumed from conversation with my parents of what they did, and from what I heard or saw around them. In that respect I'm wrong and apologize for my misunderstanding and memory.
That said, however, my words as written don't change the ideas and thoughts in them. My Dad had a failing health soon after he retired and was on numerous medications for conditions and medications to counter the side-effects or interactions of the medications. At one time he took 11 medicines daily, about half of them for the side-effects or interactions. They got them down to just over half.
But it didn't change the slow progressive decline I saw in him the few times we met or spoke over those years. By age 74 he was just tired, a shell of his former self. While he was mentally alert, I could sense he was aware of the end on the horizon, and why he just wanted to get to his 75th birthday. And then he succumbed to the accumulation of physicial problems.
And as much as my sister wants to exonerate him for being alive and fighting, to me and what I saw, he simply quit once he made his goals. He had no other reason to get up in the morning with all the pain and life as he was. I can't argue with that, some days I get glimpses into this place and will face my own decline and realization of the end.
As for my brother, I won't change anything I said. I loved him and miss him. We had some good conversations about life and living with our parents and their expectations. He drank from high school to his last days, he was a functional alcoholic. He also smoked 1-2 packs a day from high school to his last breath. He was looking at a heart-double lung transplant or death, and he choose the latter.
His reality and problem, as they say, was Dad. As the oldest son he was what our parents wanted, to succeed. He did, even being the CEO of AMC Theater Corporation for a short time after he negotiated the buyout by a California firm. And then he wasn't and life wasn't the same for him and to Dad. But by then the pressure had reached the point of no return, and all that was left in his mind was playing the hand he had.
He didn't have to do that, something we discussed many times over the years. But I also knew while arguing for him to change careers, I also knew he couldn't. Dad wouldn't let him or face what I did when I was 19, being effectively forgotten by Dad. But even then he already was. He was executer of the estate and knew the details in the will, and knew all he got from Dad was a thank you.
I didn't fair much better as he told me once. Our sister was the apple of his eye, not unusual for Dads and only one daughter. While my brother got a lot from our parents over the years (college, help moving, big wedding and honeymoon, help with the home and stuff for it), he knew it came with a price in return. Our sister got just over about half that from the folks. Dad told me he wanted to giver her and son-in-law more but didn't have the money, which my Mom partly discovered why in his desk after he died.
And I got shown the front door after a year of college partly paid by him, my brother and me (1/3 each), which was why I worked fulltime during college and they didn't have to. And over the years I got two loans, one of which I paid back to her for her medical expenses. That's it, except, the deal, more financial help if I moved back home and did what he wanted and expected of me.
I didn't and he made his view clear, and never let me forget he saw me as a failure despite some good accomplishments for the family. I served my country. I didn't ask for money for college once I back after the service. I got the first masters degree in the family. I even was promoted to one grade higher than him in the federal government.
But I also got the first real divorce in the family - the first one was the result of domestic abuse and obviously, to them, excuseable. I married a woman they didn't initially like, only barely warmed up to during our 13 year marriage (last 2 separated), and then blamed for the divorce. And I never moved home or went home unless my brother was there for reunions. Even after rejecting me, he still expected me to do what he wanted.
In the end all of it didn't matter to him, and I never really heard an explanation. He took that and something he never said to me, "I love you.", to his grave. I will never know why and will take that to my grave.
Hindsight is great for somethings, but mostly it's really unimportant to the world as it is right now. We are the results of our history, the experiences compounded on our character, personality and temperament. So while understanding those experience is a good thing and often quite useful and helpful, it's the act of hindisight that blurs the facts and reality.
That's because we don't remember anything completely and accurately. We remember snippets and snapshots of the experiences, people, places, events, etc. and we recreate them when we want to remember then or they want to find our consciousness. That's why they change with time. Only those from our youth are the most certain to be honest from what we knew and did then.
And that's what my sister pointed out, the facts I wrote weren't complete or accurate. In part she is right, I assumed from conversation with my parents of what they did, and from what I heard or saw around them. In that respect I'm wrong and apologize for my misunderstanding and memory.
That said, however, my words as written don't change the ideas and thoughts in them. My Dad had a failing health soon after he retired and was on numerous medications for conditions and medications to counter the side-effects or interactions of the medications. At one time he took 11 medicines daily, about half of them for the side-effects or interactions. They got them down to just over half.
But it didn't change the slow progressive decline I saw in him the few times we met or spoke over those years. By age 74 he was just tired, a shell of his former self. While he was mentally alert, I could sense he was aware of the end on the horizon, and why he just wanted to get to his 75th birthday. And then he succumbed to the accumulation of physicial problems.
And as much as my sister wants to exonerate him for being alive and fighting, to me and what I saw, he simply quit once he made his goals. He had no other reason to get up in the morning with all the pain and life as he was. I can't argue with that, some days I get glimpses into this place and will face my own decline and realization of the end.
As for my brother, I won't change anything I said. I loved him and miss him. We had some good conversations about life and living with our parents and their expectations. He drank from high school to his last days, he was a functional alcoholic. He also smoked 1-2 packs a day from high school to his last breath. He was looking at a heart-double lung transplant or death, and he choose the latter.
His reality and problem, as they say, was Dad. As the oldest son he was what our parents wanted, to succeed. He did, even being the CEO of AMC Theater Corporation for a short time after he negotiated the buyout by a California firm. And then he wasn't and life wasn't the same for him and to Dad. But by then the pressure had reached the point of no return, and all that was left in his mind was playing the hand he had.
He didn't have to do that, something we discussed many times over the years. But I also knew while arguing for him to change careers, I also knew he couldn't. Dad wouldn't let him or face what I did when I was 19, being effectively forgotten by Dad. But even then he already was. He was executer of the estate and knew the details in the will, and knew all he got from Dad was a thank you.
I didn't fair much better as he told me once. Our sister was the apple of his eye, not unusual for Dads and only one daughter. While my brother got a lot from our parents over the years (college, help moving, big wedding and honeymoon, help with the home and stuff for it), he knew it came with a price in return. Our sister got just over about half that from the folks. Dad told me he wanted to giver her and son-in-law more but didn't have the money, which my Mom partly discovered why in his desk after he died.
And I got shown the front door after a year of college partly paid by him, my brother and me (1/3 each), which was why I worked fulltime during college and they didn't have to. And over the years I got two loans, one of which I paid back to her for her medical expenses. That's it, except, the deal, more financial help if I moved back home and did what he wanted and expected of me.
I didn't and he made his view clear, and never let me forget he saw me as a failure despite some good accomplishments for the family. I served my country. I didn't ask for money for college once I back after the service. I got the first masters degree in the family. I even was promoted to one grade higher than him in the federal government.
But I also got the first real divorce in the family - the first one was the result of domestic abuse and obviously, to them, excuseable. I married a woman they didn't initially like, only barely warmed up to during our 13 year marriage (last 2 separated), and then blamed for the divorce. And I never moved home or went home unless my brother was there for reunions. Even after rejecting me, he still expected me to do what he wanted.
In the end all of it didn't matter to him, and I never really heard an explanation. He took that and something he never said to me, "I love you.", to his grave. I will never know why and will take that to my grave.
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