From Where I Stand

Tag: writing

  • Most Fascinating Thing This Week (trust me, it’s helpful too)

    Most Fascinating Thing This Week (trust me, it’s helpful too)

    There’s a ton of really Un-fascinating stuff happening in the world right now. (Yes, with a capital “U”.) So I thought, let’s talk about one thing that’s actually fascinating (and maybe useful). Here are two that I chose from to discuss today.

    1. The idea of “ego” has become the go-to villain in the self-help genera of life. But spoiler alert: it’s not the bad guy.


    2. About 12% of all children in the world (yes, all children) have been sexually exploited in some way. Brutal fact.

    https://www.unsw.edu.au/newsroom/news/2024/05/more-than-300-million-child-victims-of-online-sexual-abuse-globally-report?utm_source=chatgpt.com

    Since the second is horrifying, soul-crushing, and entirely worthy of major spotlight, let’s put our focus on the first for now.

    So, about ego — no, it’s not the devil hiding behind your sofa.

    What we’ll call little e (yes, I’m being cute): this little guy sits at the center of the circle of “you.”

    Picture the inner you — the one that knows you’re skimming the surface, the one that whispers “I’m faking it” or “I don’t quite measure up”. That’s little e. That’s your self-barometer, your anchor, your sense-of-self storehouse.

    When your little e is solid and established, life runs smoother. You hear a story, you filter it through yourself, you respond (or not) from that place. But when little e is shaky, missing, or more “void” than “voice”? Enter chaos as the ultimate distraction.

    What it looks like when little e is missing:

    Imagine standing at the edge of a volcano. Or overlooking a cliff. Terrifying.

    Now imagine that emptiness — the “center” of your existence — is like that: a gaping, empty void. Scary enough, people would rather live outside themselves than face that emptiness. If you don’t have a strong internal “you” (little e, your ego in the healthy sense), you’ll end up living in relation to the outside world instead of from the inside.

    And what happens? Drama. Pure, nonsensical chaos. Because your little e can’t ground you, so you bounce around in the drama. And the “drama” here has no purpose other than to exist for it’s own sake.

    That’s where the classic drama show starts: Karpman Drama Triangle

    Yep — the Victim-Rescuer-Persecutor triangle.

    https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/98/Karpman_Triangle.png

    photo credit:commons.wikimedia Karpman Triangle.png – Wikimedia Commons

    Here’s the quick version:

    • Victim says: “Poor me, woe is my life.”
    • Rescuer says: “Let me fix you, you poor thing.”
    • Persecutor says: “It’s your fault. I told you so.”

    The sick twist: people flip between these roles. Victim becomes Persecutor. Rescuer becomes Victim. It’s all a game of unconscious pay-offs. Meanwhile, nothing meaningful changes.

    (And here’s an advanced idea for those who get stuck in problem-solving: someone who places you in their drama will report a rational problem, “you didn’t do this.” A problem solver will try to solve or explain, but to no avail. Why? Well, because that would satisfy the drama and force someone back to their empty, unsettled self aka little e.)

    Why we keep doing this

    Because when your little e is weak or missing, you can’t face the inside. So you stay in the outside world: the social drama, the stories, the “who’s out to get me,” the hero-rescuer missions. Because those are easier than the void.

    And yes: if you’re always saving someone, or always being saved, or always blaming/being blamed — guess what? You’re probably knee-deep in the drama triangle, either as participant or audience.

    So what to do? (Besides rolling your eyes at people in drama)

    • Notice your pattern. Are you always the Victim? The Rescuer? The Persecutor?
    • Begin to build/strengthen little e: your internal sense of self. Hobbies, interests, commitments that are yours. Not just roles you play for others.
    • When someone else is in the drama loop: don’t become the hero-rescuer by default. Ask: What do you want? What can you do?
    • If you’re exhausted, unhappy, distant — and drama keeps showing up like an unwanted guest: maybe do the work. With someone (see: “good therapist”).

    From where I stand, that was a fascinating thing for the week.

  • A bit Screwy: What Screwtape Letters reveals about ourselves and what we want to deny most of all.

    I’ve been on a bit of a C.S. Lewis kick lately, and I’d say “bear with me,” but there’s no need to merely bear with Lewis.

    Yes, I am indebted to his works—as they opened the door to forming a theology that is anything but stale or useless. I’m not a “Christian” alone, nor would I consider an introduction to me as “religious.” Those terms don’t capture the depth of a relationship with the Creator. Instead, I like to say that I’m a believer—but even that feels like saying I saw the sun today. I believe in many things, including the energy that flows through the world and that animals and plants have more purpose than we typically assign them. But I wouldn’t say I “believe” in trees or nature—it’s so obvious they exist that the term feels almost beneath the truth.

    No, I consider myself a child of God, reborn from a previous fallen state by the grace of God and the Spirit’s work in my life—allowing me to see truth apart from the everyday mentality of the world.

    This brings me to a fun little read by Mr. Lewis: The Screwtape Letters. I’m writing about this work because it reveals how easy it can be to lose your soul—and how the smallest, everyday choices quietly contribute to that loss.

    Sure, no one wants to lose their very essence—the thing that makes them them—but as fallen creatures of God, I think we ought to know just how insidious and crafty Satan’s minions are in their attempt to feast on souls.

    Now, a scholar could give you far more than I can, but I’ll do my best.

    My dearest audience,

    You know that little comment in the back of your mind—the one that lingers when you talk to that loved one? It judges what they do while preserving your behavior in context. That little comment of resentment may not be so little after all. It may be the seed of hatred, growing over years into full-grown disdain for all humans—including the One who made such detestable creatures.

    But surely you are not one of them. You’re just telling people the truth. Setting boundaries. Clearing your chest. Yes, the demons love it when you hold on to what makes you better than everyone else. When it’s always someone else’s fault, or someone else’s lack of judgment wounding you. Especially when you justify your snarky response as being “within context,” while the other person is judged at face value.

    Yes, they are hurting you, aren’t they? Making your life miserable. They need to be rebuked. After all, we are in total charge of our environments, aren’t we? Some of us already act like gods.

    Of course, no one says this stuff out loud. That would be ridiculous. We’re not bad people—we’re just misunderstood. We don’t need to change, just correct everyone to be more like us. On our noblest days, we may admit to certain faults—but never the ones we hold others accountable for.

    The other day, I saw a man walking, wearing a T-shirt that read: “Today’s good time is brought to you by WEED.” Well, certainly he was wrong. I stared at him from afar because of it. I even constructed a narrative in my head, depicting him as someone more worthy of disdain.

    I might as well have joined the demons at a local bar and dined with them on my own flesh, for what I chose to do with my mind—investing in thoughts that lead to bitterness and judgment. I could’ve driven my vehicle off a bridge and been better for it than to sit afar, condoning myself while casting a can-you-believe-this look at anyone who’d make eye contact.

    I’ve read the attempts of demons to capture souls, and I must agree with Mr. Lewis—Satan doesn’t want us to think too hard about the state of our soul, or to speak the thoughts in our head out loud. He wants them locked up, hidden, so we can keep convincing ourselves that we’re good people. Maybe even good enough. But never the bad ones. Surely not.

    Nobody wants to be a bad person, do they?

    Stay on guard. Stay bitter. Get yours at all costs.

    There’s your one-way ticket to losing your soul—giving it up to the world, living for dying things, and being only as good as your last success.

    Yes, people will leave you. And you’ll justify it, saying they didn’t “get” you.

    Stay in hiding. Satan loves hiding. He also loves shame. And ego. And just about any activity that keeps you from facing this simple reality: God loves you and wants you back.

    The Law—the commandments—can be summarized with two phrases: Love the Lord your God, and then love your neighbor as yourself. These two things lead to a fruitful life.

    So, shall we heed these words during our brief time here? Shall we trust they are the remedy for the chronic ailment called sin and all its effects?

    Or, like the flesh described in Screwtape Makes a Toast, will we become rather dull and flavorless meat—too passive one way or the other to be of value to the God who made us… or even to the demons who’d feast on us?

    Yours in sincerity,

    Uncle Meier

  • Allegory…Imagination….and Merlin?

    Allegory…Imagination….and Merlin?

    C. S. Lewis seems like he came from another planet—his insights never grow stale; they mature like a good Calvin and Hobbes sketch- becoming more apparent the older you get.

    Speaking as a lay reader(because a scholar could really do these writings justice)—I am merely qualified to say Lewis shows profound cultural and spiritual insight, and inadvertently issues warnings to the culture in his fiction writings.

    The Cosmic Trilogy: A Transcendent View of Humanity

    In Out of the Silent Planet, Perelandra, and That Hideous Strength, Lewis maps the cosmic drama of humanity’s true nature:

    • Through the Narnia chronicles and The Screwtape Letters, he proves he can “see” with a divine perspective—individuals matter, but they also serve a greater cosmic order.
    • He anticipates modern ethical dilemmas—humanity building Babel, killing morality, creating AI—all before they became our daily headlines.

    Out of the Silent Planet: What do you mean, “more?”

    One of the most chilling exchanges comes in Out of the Silent Planet. Ransom asks the peaceful hrossa, “What if another group takes more than they need?”
    They respond simply: “Why would they take more?”
    This contrast highlights how foreign greed seems to beings who live in harmony.

    The comparison with the pfifltriggi is equally poignant:

    Pfifltrigg: “All the pfifltriggi share the work of mining and stone craft equally.”
    Ransom: “On Earth, some people mine their whole lives so others can make art.”
    Pfifltrigg: “The art is more meaningful because of the hard work it takes to get the stone.”

    On Malacandra (Mars, the actual Silent Planet is Earth because we fell out of alignment with God and therefore is considered silent), labor and reward are intrinsically linked—nothing is divorced from its purpose. Conversely, our world often separates toil from its fruits. That disconnect? Lewis refers it as “bent,” or morally twisted.

    Perelandra: What We Might Have Been

    In Perelandra, Ransom and Weston confront an Eve-like figure, exploring a world untainted by rebellion. Lewis provokes the thought, “What if humanity could have avoided The Fall?” Lewis dares us to imagine our full potential—and contrasts it with the “superior” knowledge and technology we have today.

    That Hideous Strength: A Warning for Today

    The trilogy concludes with That Hideous Strength, where a once-legendary Merlin returns amid a technocratic, demonic think tank (the N.I.C.E.). It’s terrifyingly relevant—our age of AI and corporate control would fit right in Lewis’s world. The scene where Merlin frees animals is equally unforgettable.

    In this, the third book of the interplanetary drama, the way in which Lewis refers to the advancements of human race through the use of NICE mimics the pleasantries of AI and people today in service of potentially harmful intentions.

    Beyond being a Christian apologist (see Mere Christianity, Letters to Malcolm), Lewis crafted stories so readers continue to wrestle with his truths long after he was gone. He didn’t claim perfection—only that his purpose was to write meaningful fiction that points us toward our true calling.

    What Are We Here For?

    What are we meant to do? Are we fulfilling our unique purpose, or chasing everything but that? Lewis was someone grounded enough to tell stories that pointed to difficulties within a culture, giving so much meaning about living in the world, but not of it (John 17:14-16), and brave enough to show us what could happen if things don’t change.

    You: The Universe’s Missing Piece

    Each of us holds a spark that only we contain. Our story is our own—but it also weaves into something far larger. When we live according to what we think we should want, or think we should do, we aren’t living according to what we were actually meant to do, or meant to act.

    This isn’t recommending rebellion for rebellion’s sake, but rather to be you, and live according to what matters the most to you, will inevitably lead to the greatest things, as intended. Much like when sin entered the world and distorted the way of things, we too are like the original Adam, taking the coverup and running from the greatness we were intended for. Stop covering up. Stop living in denial. Be honest with yourself. Tell the truth. Let yourself suck at a sport, but keep playing.

    If nothing else, Lewis points us to Scripture—“there is nothing new under the sun”, Ecclesiastes 1:9—and that the only deeply new thing is rediscovering whose story we are living out, ours, or a parody of someone else’s.

  • To Serve is To Live

    What’s the Point? (No, Seriously. What Is the Point?)

    At some point, we’ve all stood in the shower, stared off into the void (or the shampoo bottle), and asked the big question:
    “What’s the point of all this?”

    Like, really. What’s the point of working? Of meal prepping chicken and rice like we’re training for the Olympics when the only race we’re running is to beat traffic? What’s the point of going to the gym, squeezing into shirts that are a little too tight (okay, maybe that’s just me), and checking credit scores like its the weather?

    Asking “what’s the point?” is not a crisis—it’s actually a solid philosophical question, right up there with “Is cereal a form of soup?” and “Do dogs like me as much as I think they do?”

    But seriously—what happens after you reach the goals?
    You made the money. Lost the weight. Landed the promotion that requires 60 hours a week… which now requires 70 to maintain (and a personal assistant, a neck brace, and maybe a therapist-I know a good one). You bought the car. Paid off the student loans. Traveled to Italy and ate pasta that made those tight shirts even tighter in a different way. You’ve done The Things.

    And then what?

    At 25, I had this little existential meltdown (I think it’s called a quarter-life crisis). I realized I might not become a millionaire—despite my mother assuring me I could be anything I wanted to be, including the world-renowned biochemist I aspired to become after watching Outbreak at age nine. Thanks Dustin Hoffman.

    I mean, sure, buying those new shoes felt good. And yes, the compliments on the designer outfit were nice—until I realized I still felt kind of… empty. Not sad, not broken. Just unsettled.

    Now, some people find meaning in marathons, psychedelics, or finishing every episode of The Office (again). Others chase after this mysterious thing called “existential achievement” like it’s a Pokémon. And for many, the couch and a rerun of Seinfeld is more than enough—and hey, no shame if you’re still riding that DVD life.

    But if you’re one of the curious ones—the ones who can’t shake the “What’s the point?” question no matter how many productivity podcasts or oat milk lattes you consume—then maybe it’s time to stop asking what the point is, and start asking why you’re even here.

    Not to be dramatic, but… why do you exist? What was the reason for you being created in the first place?

    If you ask an atheist, they might say we’re just floating on a rock, existing until we don’t—nothing more, nothing less. Which is philosophically interesting but doesn’t help you get out of bed on a Monday. (No offense, atheists—but seriously, how do you guys do it?)

    Personally, I believe there’s a Creator—a higher Being who loves us into existence—and that gives me meaning. That awful Monday meeting? Purpose. That toddler tantrum in Target? Spiritual growth. That parking ticket? A lesson in patience.

    Because if love is real, and God is love, then you are loved—on purpose. Not randomly, not accidentally. And that changes everything.

    Achievements are fine. Financial freedom is lovely (at least I’ve heard that). But none of it will satisfy the soul. Not fully. Not for long.

    So maybe the real question isn’t “What’s the point?”
    It’s: “What am I here for?”
    And “How can I live the most valuable life with the time I’ve got?”

    If you start there, even the tight shirts start to make a little more sense.

  • To be honest…

    Honestly? I sat down to write this with zero agenda. Nothing. My genius said, “Just start writing and see what happens.” Always a solid strategy.

    So here I am—two lines deep—and already staring at the blinking cursor like it’s judging me.

    Idea one: What happens when the worst thing in life happens?

    Nope. Too heavy. Not today.

    Okay okay, here’s one: What happens…

    Gross. That’s so vague it could be a free online article…oh.

    Wait—I’ve got it:

    I have absolutely no idea. That’s the idea.

    Yep. No one knows the answer. Not me, not you, not that podcast host with the perfect bookshelf background (which I have-less perfect however). Not your favorite fitness influencer, your mom Facebook group, your stylist, or that one guy at the gym who somehow always has advice for everything except leg day (and diet).

    Forgive my little neurodivergent detour here, but when we’re trying to solve problems we usually end up drowning in opinions, frameworks, TED Talks, and cold plunges. Everyone has a hack, and yet… nothing changes.

    So how the heck are we supposed to move forward and live a meaningful life if we don’t even know what “solved” looks like?

    Here’s a thought: maybe we need to zoom out. Like… way out. Maybe we stop looking just at our brains, or our culture, or even our bodies—and take a peek at that deep, mysterious, spiritual part of ourselves.

    Yep. One of those posts.

    Don’t roll your eyes just yet.

    Because every day, you’re solving problems—some big, some small, some that just involve whether or not you can justify buying another pair of kicks/drip. Behind all those decisions is something deeper—something that drives you, that gives your life meaning.

    Dallas Willard—brilliant theologian and philosopher—once said (and I’m paraphrasing here): “What your soul is connected to determines how well your soul is.”

    Translation: If your soul is tied to your job, your team winning the playoffs, your group chat, or your Sunday routine, then your soul is gonna ride the rollercoaster of those highs and lows. But if it’s rooted in something deeper—like, say, the Creator of the whole show—then there’s a steadiness, a sense of “home,” even when things get shaky.

    Yes, even you overzealous people forgetting to turn off the news every once in a while.

    So yeah. No clear answers. No five-step plan. Just a thought worth sitting with.

    And honestly? I think it’s worth it.

  • May 1: The cookies ain’t coming.

    May 1: The cookies ain’t coming.

    The following is based on real events. Some so disturbing, you may not want to go into this. Overall, it’s best you don’t:

    A post I tried to submit to my Ring chat for people in my area. A post that was rejected…I think the Ring company is in on it.

    Missing: Girl Scout Cookies (and maybe my dignity?)

    So, a few weeks ago—okay, my wife says months, but let’s not get bogged down in “facts”—I gave some girls on bikes a wad of cash for some Girl Scout cookies. Out in broad daylight, the transaction from a grown man to two youths.

    Now, I don’t even like the cookies. Not really. Thin Mints? Meh. Tagalongs? Eh. But I saw the book, filled out a form, and handed over my money like a trusting adult who believes in the power of youth and innocence.

    Fast forward to today. I ask Alexa, “Hey, when do Girl Scout cookies get delivered?” And Alexa—bless her cold, robotic heart—tells me cookie season runs from February to the end of April. Welp. April’s over, and guess what I don’t have?

    No Thin Mints.

    No Shortbreads.

    No…uh…third flavor. Caramel something? I forget, but there were three in total.

    So I go to Wal-Mart and see some actual Girl Scouts selling cookies right there on the spot, the pros in the game. I ask them, “Hey, when do you deliver the pre-orders?” and they look at me like I just asked for the secret Krabby Patty recipe. “We sell them directly,” they say.

    Wait, what? (Knees weak, arms are heavy, almost vomited on my sweater, mom’s spaghetti). Eminem lyrics can often describe my inner turmoil more than I can.

    Now I’m thinking back…no uniforms, no badges, just a list and a story. She sat there on her bike, waited for me to get the cash, telling me her sister was too shy to ask. How as I supposed to walk away from that? How cold I tell a helping sister “no thank you?” The list I filled out had names, addresses—it was very legit looking. But now I see a different version…it was all a ruse. Two conwomen plotting a masterplan to not only gain some capital, but to soil the otherwise prestigious name of Girl Scouts. Can nothing be left untainted these days?

    My wife and daughter say I got scammed. I say there’s still hope. Somewhere out there, my cookies are riding around in a backpack, waiting to come home. Maybe these poor girls aren’t conwomen, but lost and stuck with these three boxes of goodies they just want to get home. What a burden for two fragile little souls.

    So, has anyone else handed $18 to a rogue cookie entrepreneur on two wheels? Or am I the only soft-sponsor of the Girl Scouts: Underground Edition?

    If you read this and have any information on the underground cookie scamming business, contact your local Girl Scout troop leaders. These girls should be considered dangerous due to their convincing smiles and noble stories of heroic sisterhood responsibilities.

  • Size 15: A Journey

    Again…enjoy your sweet, sweet shoes you small-footed people. 😑

    Let us embark on a peculiar journey—quest, if you will—into the bizarre world of men’s shoes. For this story to be authentic, tis I who is the holder of the size 15.

    Yes, fifteen. A size that sounds less like footwear and more like those small “smart” cars in mid 2000s.

    I invite you, dear reader, to wander—into the labyrinth of online sneaker retailers: Nike, Adidas, New Balance, or whatever new age brand that was forged in the fires of Mount Hype last week. Choose your favorite Jordan, perhaps an Air Max 90 with a color scheme with just the right color palate it screams “you can’t get these!” and here in the sea of exclusivity: size 15? Sold out. Gone. Vanished like your motivation after eating a pack of ultimate stuffed Oreos.

    You might think, “Surely, this foot size would guarantee an overstock!” But no. It turns out that size 15 is a cruel paradox—rare enough to be inconvenient, yet common enough to be competitive. It’s like trying to find a left-handed coffee mug at a right-handed convention. They exist, but there are many people looking for the few that are around.

    Now, you may wonder, “Why on Earth should I care about this man’s odyssey?” Because (enter Forrest Gump accent): life is like a pair of shoes, my friend.

    Let me explain.

    Scarcity breeds value. Exclusivity inflates desirability. That same Jordan in a size 6? Might be on clearance next Tuesday. But a size 15? Full price and sold out in a minute. Maybe even resold for double. People camp out, not for warmth or camaraderie, but to clutch that elusive grail of rubber and laces. And suddenly—bam!—it’s not just a shoe, it’s a statement. A status symbol. A “flex.”

    This, friend, (we are friends now btw) … “Hello friend….Brother (Hulk Hogan voice) anyway…this “exclusivity” is what the sneaker world calls hype. And what we, in the world of hyper-fixation and compulsion might call… a trap.

    Because sometimes, what we want most isn’t actually what we want—it’s just what everyone else seems to want. Context is everything. That prized possession in one mindset? Utter trash in another. Like a prom tux at a Midwest wedding (jeans or cargo shorts only please) or a fork at a hotdog-serving venu—out of place, unnecessary, even ridiculous.

    So what if, just consider here, the thing you’re so obsessed with—the job, the relationship, the approval, the Yeezys—is only precious because of the mental lens you’re wearing right now? And what if, instead of focusing on doing less of the “bad” things, you simply added more of the good stuff—friends, purpose, vulnerability, laughter, a damn shrug the shoulders every once in awhile in the midst of stress 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷‍♀️?

    Maybe then, the cycle breaks on its own. Not through deprivation. But through distraction… by something better.

    Maybe your success isn’t about what “not to do,” but what to do.

    So next time size 15 is sold out, maybe take it as a reminder to think of me, or better the message (yes, the message): you don’t need that shoe. You need a new lens. And maybe take some time off and let little interferences go by saying “wow, look at those trees…just a blowing in the wind. How powerful those branches are to hold up to that.” Though we concluded on trees, we started with feet, my feet, and how through obscurity…we can find something useful, if we look for it.

  • Care? Or think you SHOULD care?

    So, I was watching the news the other day—like a responsible adult who pretends they’ve got a handle on the world—and in true chaotic fashion, a political clip flashed across the screen. You know the kind: stern faces, firm declarations.

    My brain lights up: “this matters a lot!”

    Is this good?

    Is this bad?

    Is it secretly both?

    Is the media spinning it? Am I being spun? Who really is informed?

    And just like that, I was off—launched into a 25-minute internal monologue that involved four hypothetical scenarios, five imaginary conversations, and me mentally arguing with some “representative” I’m not even sure what they do.

    But let’s skip the 600-word descent into that madness and cut to the punchline:

    I didn’t really care.

    I thought I cared.

    I believed I should care.

    But deep down, beneath the mental gymnastics and obligatory sighs of concern… I didn’t.

    Not really.

    And you know how I knew that? It became extremely boring to try to care. I cared more about caring than the topic I was SUPPOSED to care about.

    Now before you report me to your local “Citizen Who Should Care” hotline, let me clarify.

    I do care. I care about people.

    I just didn’t care about whatever thing was being discussed by angry man in a suit.

    There’s a difference. A big one, actually.

    When you truly care about something, it moves you—it compels you to act, to reflect, to engage.

    When you think you should care, it’s usually because someone else told you it’s important. Or because X did. Or because the anchor on the news got Very Serious™ with his voice.

    So there I sat, mildly stressed, semi-guilty, sipping coffee and wondering why I was so mentally invested in something I had no intention of doing anything about.

    And then it hit me: I was borrowing someone else’s care. Like a care-on-loan program and I have a horrible emotional credit score. The cost of the interest would floor me if I took that on.

    But here’s the strange and glorious twist: admitting I didn’t care, it gave me peace to be that honest.

    Because what I do care about is how people respond to news like that. My heart isn’t in the headlines—it’s with the person who’s afraid because of them, who’s confused, or angry, or overwhelmed.

    Even when I don’t agree with people’s perspective it’s nice to hear their conviction and walk alongside them.

    So instead of funneling all my energy into a political opinion I didn’t even want, I redirected it to empathy.

    And now, the real punchline—maybe the only part you need to hear:

    You only have so much energy every day.

    Which means it’s a precious resource. Like toilet paper during a panic (or eggs these days).

    So ask yourself:

    Do I actually care?

    Or do I just think I should?

    Practicing that tiny bit of honesty can save you hours of mental spiraling (refer back to my loan and interest metaphors, I was proud of that one).

    Because maybe you don’t care about that thing.

    But there is something else you care about a lot. And living in alignment with that thing makes you rational, grounded, and a lot less likely to throw your remote at the news.

    So go ahead—care less, on purpose.

    And care where it matters.

    Thank you for attending my TED Talk slash coffee-fueled ramble.

    A pic of me doing anything other than watching the news…..maybe she’ll braid it.
  • Attention Deficit Hyper-something Di…..did you see that one movie?

    Attention Deficit Hyper-something Di…..did you see that one movie?

    The Case of the Disappearing Keys

    It was a bright and somewhat sunny Tuesday morning, and I was on a mission: get to work on time and maybe get my kid to school on time too. Sounds simple enough.

    But in the realm of ADHD, that’s a high-stakes game.

    I patted down my pockets, feeling the familiar smoothness of my phone and a strangely pack of gum from the last time I wore the pants. But where are my keys? I could swear I left them right on the kitchen counter. Poof! Like an unintentional magic trick, they had vanished.

    With the precision of a dog looking for his lost bone, I began my investigation. The first suspect: The little backpack I take to the gym. I check, but non he’s innocent. Second culprit: Oh, I must have left them in my gym shorts. Strike Two. OK, for my last and final witness, they must be in my sweater pocket, again from the gym. But wait, I didn’t wear my gym sweatshirt back from the gym.

    Also, should I wash that sweatshirt because I did workout a little in it. I am going to set it on the counter and get to that decision later.

    Time is ticking by…but I am unaware.

    I check my watch.

    Ahhh, 5 minutes have passed and is all I did was look in two places?

    The Odyssey Continues

    After an embarrassing struggle, I found my keys nestled in the middle console of my car. Praise Jesus! Fueled by triumph and adrenaline, I tell my daughter abruptly, “we are going to be late.”

    This one is my fault, but this does not negate the “we” here. After all, WE will be late…the fault? Well, that goes to my mind’s love of chaos.

    I decided to grab my coffee before we leave. So that I can have enough caffeine in my system before the first therapy session, which starts in, well, it already started technically. The ADHD fairy sprinkled her magical ‘let’s-distract-you-with-everything-in-sight’ dust on me.

    I decide the coffee needs some half and half.

    But should I add the fats to the coffee so close to my post-workout routine? Should I just be a man and drink the black coffee?

    Decision making with ADHD is like going into a labyrinth filled with shiny objects. First, I think about my daily caloric intake, specifically from fats. Next, I think about how I don’t drink enough “unaltered” coffee and always need to do something else to it, you know, be “extra,” aka “doing the most.” Also, should I add some sweetener to it? Or is that just another thing I can’t tolerate, the actual taste of coffee?

    I decide that I work hard and deserve the altered coffee drink.

    8:07 AM. The shock hits my body, we are really late.

    “Sweetheart, let’s go! The bell already rang.”

    “OK, I have to go to the bathroom.”

    “What!”

    I can see my future, homeless self holding a sign, “Free Corner Therapy, anything helps.” As I imagine my forgiving client’s patience running thin.

    “How could you take advantage of me, my time is valuable” I imagine them saying.

    “I am going to tell everyone you suck.” They will follow-up with the death blow of therapists everywhere, a bad review.

    The Great Forgetting

    I finally arrived to my first session of an overbooked schedule. Mentally, I am working at being present, not over apologizing and getting right into the material to show that the client’s wait was worth their time.

    “Again, I apologize….” Just like a slow motion Tik Tok video emphasises the behavior that I wanted to avoid. “Fooooooorrrrrrr beeeeeeinnnnnggggg Laaaatttteeeee.”

    Ahhhhhh….noooooooo…….

    Now they have to say, “it’s OK,” that they “get it” that they know the mornings can be, “rough.”

    But it shouldn’t have been rough, if I kept my keys in the same place, didn’t need constant caffeine to stay engaged, as well as some earlier things such as doing one more rep at the gym, doing one more page of writing, pushing for one more preparation of food item and one more conversation with my wife. I can do it….I can fit it in…….

    Conclusion

    Life with ADHD is often a rollercoaster ride where mundane tasks morph into epic adventures. While I may be the proud owner of the world’s most disorganized brain, I wouldn’t change it for anything. Overall, I like the way I think. On the positive end, I can get too focused, and feel emotions deeply. I think this benefits many people. It took me a while to accept the way I think, and clearly there are underlying parts that I want to improve on (cough) fixating on if people like me or not. But, overall, it’s me I have to accept, not try to get people to accept me by enhancing my stress with an ideal “mask.”

    So here’s to the beautifully bizarre world of ADHD! Even if my thoughts sometimes lead me down a rabbit hole or two.

    Now, excuse me while I try to fit in making a smoothie, packing my backpack for the day, and getting across town to the office I work at on Wednesdays.

    Wait, what is today again?

  • What if Darth Vader Was the Hero?

    What if Darth Vader Was the Hero?

    From where I stand, watch the Star War series and image an alternative perspective; what if Darth Vader was actually the good guy and the Jedi were the ones in the wrong?

    Here is my proposal:

    What if, Darth Vader, was actually the good guy in the Star Wars franchise? Let’s take a look at some reasons why I think this is so, and maybe a lesson can be gained out of it. Something about perspective and empathy no doubt.

    Origin Story:

    Before Darth Vader, Anakin Skywalker was a kind-hearted and passionate Jedi Knight who wanted to protect people he loved. His fall to the dark side was due to fear—fear of losing wife and mom. It was his misguided fear, most-likely due to childhood, single mom, responsibilities given to him prior to the emotional maturity. Childhood trauma is not so easily avoided, even in a Galaxy Far Far away. Anakin’s descent into darkness was driven by love and desperation.

    The Jedi Order thought that Anakin was the Chosen One who would bring balance to the Force. This is something he succeeded at he did exactly what the prophecy foretold—just not in the way people expected. The Jedi became rigid in their rules and detached from emotions separated the Jedi from the people they were meant to protect. When Anakin took out the Jedi (though violently) he dismantled a flawed system.

    And lets not forget when Anakin, now Vader destroyed the Emperor.

    Darth Vader took out the Jedi Pharisees and eliminated the power-hungry Sith.

    Was the Empire really that bad?

    Think about the Republic, aka “good guys.” Under their rule, corruption, crime syndicates, and slavery existed unchecked on many planets. The Empire offered order, stability, and unity across the galaxy. In fact, under Emperor Palpatine, technology thrived, interplanetary travel improved, and large-scale conflict was minimal.

    Maybe Vader saw himself as the necessary enforcer of peace. The Rebel Alliance, were freaking rebels who ended up causing widespread destruction. Couldn’t the “rebellion” have learned to negotiate within the confines of the structure. But no, the “good guys” took it upon themselves to overthrow the government and at some point aware of the lives it would cost to do so. Vader was focused on maintaining peace, and did so as Anakin aka Vader always did, through attempts to control with the best information he had at the time.

    Redemption

    True villains don’t seek redemption—but heroes do. In the end, Darth Vader chooses love over power, saving his son at the cost of his own life. This selfless act proves that the good in him was never truly gone. His final moment, where he asks Luke to tell his sister that he was right about him, confirms that Anakin Skywalker was always there, waiting for the chance to do the right thing.

    Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury:

    Was Vader perfect? No.

    Did he make terrible choices? Absolutely.

    But his journey was one of pain, sacrifice, doing what he believed to be best, and ultimately redemption.

    In the end, he was the one who destroyed the Sith, saved his son, and fulfilled the prophecy. Without Darth Vader, the galaxy would have remained trapped in an endless cycle of corruption and war.

    So was he really a villain?

    After all, how far would you go to fight for what you believe to be right?

    Like Vader, maybe we all have a dark side we need to address.