October 7, 2008
The irony lies in the dark side of this much sought after condition. Silence is easily one of the most destructive forces in existence when applied to any relationship between two people. It is a product of fear and rejection. It engenders contempt, emotional distance, confusion, unrest, insecurity, and a litany of questions that may never receive answers. The wedge it creates can be one of the most hurtful and most difficult to remove.
But sometimes silence is all you can or know how to give. After all, if you can't say anything nice...
And sometimes silence is all you receive. It's all you have. You have no choice but to live with it.
On charges of silence at all the wrong times, I plead guilty. I hear phrases like "I tell you everything, but you never tell me anything," "I wish you'd say something," and "Bec, you could have said anything," with a far greater frequency than I probably should. Usually the act is not a conscious decision; it's some sort of operating mode hard-wired into the fabric of my being. Years of feeling like talking never did me any good probably destroyed any chance of hope in those far more self-aware moments.
I suppose there is truth to the idea that when a person becomes familiar enough with something he understands it so intuitively he forgets others are not gifted with the same knowledge. Silence is not always an intentional omission.
Sometimes I feel I am being extremely unfair to others by what I choose not to say. As I was recently reminded, communicating - sharing and letting somebody else in - is what relationships are about. If I have collapsed into myself so far that I cannot even successfully communicate the things I want to the people around me, it's no wonder I have witnessed such spectacular failures recently; it's no wonder I'm so insecure about everything I say; it's no wonder nothing ever seems to be enough.
That place becomes practically unbearable to reside in. The frustration exists, nothing is said, the frustration builds, nothing is said, the frustration continues, something is said but fails to remedy anything, the frustration continues.
Sometimes I don't say anything because I recognize no utterance will be a pleasant one. She's the part of the character I dislike the most. She is also what I feel I have the most of right now. No amount of pushing against her seems to be working. I would prefer she not have a voice. I would prefer she not get in the way of every attempt at progress I could point to. Nobody wins that way. It is bad enough when I feel like I cannot win. It is worse when I take everyone else down with me. Perhaps the real fight I need to have is to just be quiet. Maybe with a little silence everything else will just fall into place.
Captured At:2051
October 9, 2008
So Much for the Visionary...
Untrue to form, I drove to the cape every day with or before the sun. I spent two mornings listening to PhD's explain methodologies for calculating the particle flows of soil and regolith when impinged upon by rocket plumes and helicopters. I never realized how much one could know about dirt, but I figure anyone who can turn playing in a sandbox into an advanced degree must be among the smartest people on Earth. Their work was miles above my head, but it made going back to the Moon seem much more real.The third day I donned a blue hardhat and goggles for a walkdown of the construction site my organization helped come into being. My eyes scanned the expansive room soaking in the colors and shapes of a space in transition. I could picture the scene as it would play out in a movie, the vehicles and people slowly disappearing to make way for the next generation of crew capsules. The camera had the back of my head in the shot, and I would turn around with a familiar smile of awe on my matured face as the new program bustled around me.
They were a series of moments that should have energized and excited anyone, yet even being surrounded by the future of space exploration failed to lift the clouds I struggled with. If anything, it only made them thicker. I felt a lost and useless cog wedged haphazardly into man's most miraculous machine. My world was charging forward as I stood unable to do anything but watch.
Words cannot convey the frustration I experience due to my divided existence. In the right position I am a constant flow of ideas. I am able to identify proper goals and guide a group of people toward fulfillment of them. I envision the impossible with such clarity my real surroundings melt. I sit in meetings and walk facilities able to picture what they might be like five years from now, yet I lack any aptitude in these areas when the subject is realistic application for my own life. Wisdom, perception, forward thinking - they all disappear without a trace.
Life was simpler when the belief I could be something resided in a hidden corner of my mind. It was undefined and I am not sure I ever spoke of it, but I could never deny its presence. The change came in discovering my silly notion to be something others held with unwavering confidence. My attitude toward it then blended fear of being wrong with fear of letting everybody down.
When I consider the pressures upon me only rockets come to mind. If pressure is directed and applied correctly, they see the stars. If not, disaster. Given that analogy, I suppose it's no wonder I hit places like the one that has been dogging me lately. Pressure without a specified outlet finds its own exit in people as well as machines.
I was recently asked what I think success looks like. What will it take for me to feel I have accomplished whatever it is this tug is driving me to do? If I knew, the pressure would go down. I would have some semblance of a real goal and some opportunity for a path to walk toward it. In the absence of those things I suppose I will continue the cycle of being panicked about and at peace with my life.
Somewhere in here I am also forced to remember the truth. I did not end up where I am today because I worried about me. I did the jobs I was given and I took care of the people I felt responsible to. Emphasis was on those things above all else. Hopefully that sort of philosophy will be enough to keep me moving forward. Will it put us back on the Moon? Probably not, but I have to believe it counts for something. I'm not sure I know any other way.
Captured At:1947
October 13, 2008
Deflated Musing
Once again the cleanliness of my apartment is misleading. Save for those rare occasions when an impulsive desire for change takes hold, it is never this tidy when expecting only its usual occupant. With the lack of clutter comes an appearance of peace and togetherness, and with the guest the illusion of a normal life. Slowly, as the day of the visitor fades into the past, the piles reemerge and the list of things to be done grows well beyond the list of those once accomplished. Later some new motivator will appear and the cycle will play out again.I wish my life were as easy to clean as my apartment. Of the two it is where the real work must be done. It is also where I feel the most powerless.
It had been an easy afternoon. A pot of sauce bubbled away on the stove as we played movies and silly video games. While the rain came down outside I watched Peter Pan remember how to fly and I hoped that one day I might be able to do the same. I ate food that reminded me of home, both sad and thankful for the company. I don't remember falling asleep. In the morning I made breakfast, and as we descended the stairs toward Milo I was hit by a gust of wind that spoke of seasons past and to come. The winter malaise seems to arrive a little bit earlier every year.
The ride to the airport was mostly quiet. I silently wondered if I will ever be given somebody in my life who won't have to go. I could already see my apartment transformed into the empty, suffocating box it becomes at all of the most unhelpful moments. Every time I say goodbye my heart breaks a little more. It doesn't matter who it is to. The feeling of loss is unmistakable.
As I look around me today it is clear something is missing. In the stillness and the weight I cannot discern if the object of my mourning is a flash of another life, the ghosts of cohabiters past, or a former self who has wilted from life into shadow. I return to a very familiar place where the only response to these observations is "There has to be more to life than this. I just wish I knew how to get there."
That one phrase really does sum everything up. I suspect I will never actually have the answer, but at the very least I can hope it is possible to climb out of the trench my missteps landed me in. This road is not the right one. If only there were a street sign around somewhere to tell me where the right one is...
Captured At:1145
October 15, 2008
Finally I broke with denial and adjusted its call to life. Who did I really think would be fooled by that 6AM alert anyway?
Moving yesterday seemed impossible. I woke, showered, dressed...then stalled. The backpack on the couch next to me was ready to go, packed lunch and all, but instead of moving I remained flopped indifferently. The minutes ticked away as I failed to will myself to motion.
Then I got angry. I couldn't stand the defeatist attitude anymore. I was tired of the discontent and the headaches and the products they were creating in my life. Nothing that fed the low was wrong or abnormal or beyond understanding. I had looked at the situation enough times to know it made perfect sense. I could handle circumstances being beyond my control. I could not handle my attitude venturing into a place that ran counter to everything I believed.
I paced my living room as I vented my frustrations. I frequently asked "why" and "how" groping for understanding of the way out. Then I was cut off mid-sentence. "30 days." I'd dismiss it and resume, only to be interrupted again. "30 days. Trust me." It was the sort of statement I have come to expect after an oft-received instruction to refocus my wandering eyes: "Rebecca. Look at me."
I stopped pacing. The words seemed too simple to carry the message I knew to be hidden within them. I had to genuinely surrender everything - the doubts, the worry, the useless lines of thought - and remember where my faith was supposed to be. I had to focus on the day awaiting me outside the door, not the ones I had lost or the ones I dreaded. I had to allow myself to be humbled by the truth of my own weakness instead of standing defiantly against it. Only then could things slowly move toward right.
"So I did" makes it sound too simple. It doesn't convey the weakness in my knees or the tightness of the ball I curled into or how strongly my eyes stung as I admitted my failure once again. Whatever that thing was holding me back, every piece of me wanted it gone. I didn't know if 30 days was a deadline or a process or a turning point, but I would accept it. 30 days. Okay. Time for work.
"It's My Job" came over the iPod as I approached 528. It was a powerful reminder of who I am and the mentality that helps keep me going. The lines where he finds his resolve sang out as I began ascending the causeway into a brilliant morning sun - my light - and gazed toward the VAB - my stage - with a smile. The timing almost seemed too coincidental.
When I drove back over that causeway 8 hours later I was amazed at the sense of accomplishment I felt. I had just finished my most productive day in weeks and the achievement was enough to make me pay a little less attention to that familiar pain in my head. The problems of my world had not found resolution, but that was alright. I had been given one better day, and that was more than enough to keep me moving toward the next one.
Captured At:2141
October 19, 2008
Thinking Out Loud
As I sit here tonight - acoustic rhythms and the scent of a lemon cake bouncing around my apartment - I am once again amazed at how much can change in one week. The steady evaporation of the clouds over the past several days has been remarkable and I find myself calmly enjoying my simple, quiet little life. It is nice to finally be indulging in the pause instead of letting it drag me down.The days unfolded with simple joys of their own - unexpected text messages, difficult but important conversations, visits from people I had not seen in years, random efforts to be less antisocial, and much needed steps to begin rebuilding what little confidence I had and move on with life. Not one crowd overwhelmed me, and each provided enough of the right constructs to let me be myself. There is a piece of me I have dearly missed for a while. It was wonderful to see her again.
I forget sometimes how nice it is to see a familiar face after so long. These are people I once shared my life with. People who watched and helped me grow up. People who helped put me on the road I travel now. I have done far too poor a job of staying in contact and making sure they understand the role they have played in my life. That mistake is one I dearly hope I can learn from.
I realized that for a group of people I claim to love, there are ways in which I write off my coworkers too quickly. It seems they only count when I will allow them to. That sort of behaviour just isn't right. Now that I see it, I hope I can do better for them.
It was also important for me to see that I'm not the only one who feels the way I do about certain circumstances in life. It confirmed everything I am going through is normal. It also confirmed how truly blessed I am to know I'm not left alone even at my lowest moments. My threads of faith in those times may not feel like much, but they are infinitely more powerful than having no faith at all. It's the only thing that really let me start climbing up to the view I have now. I'm looking forward to what comes next, whatever it may be.
Yes, that is certainly a complete reversal from before. Here's hoping it will stick around for a while.
Captured At:2135
October 22, 2008
A few times over the years I have had to start conversations I would rather have not had. They were necessary, but far from easy. There are things I don't like to say to people, especially those who have been good to me.
When I listen to these guys praise my work there is definite sincerity in their voices. My tendency is to let the compliments slip away unaddressed, but the truth has never escaped me. They are pleased. They believe in me. What's more, they genuinely care.
I have never been able to explain what it is I do. There is no concrete definition, no tiny little box I could package it up in with a pretty little bow. While I can't do that, I can honestly say that whatever it is, I'm good at it. If somebody gives me a chance, I believe I can prove that statement. I would never know how to explain it to them beforehand though. They would have to take it all on faith. And taking it on faith is exactly what every one of these NASA guys has done. So far they don't seem disappointed.
At one point this afternoon my leadership skills came up. They seem to believe I could lead a team to do just about anything. I remarked that I don't lead anybody. I can't make them do anything; they choose to follow Somehow my recognition of this truth further supports my abilities. They didn't have to teach me how leadership works or doesn't work. I already knew.
I was thinking about the example of these guys and the skills they believe I have as I drove off to church this evening. Interestingly enough, the teaching focused on leadership and how we should respond to those in authority over us. Every time I sit through leadership commentary of some sort I am amazed to hear the speakers put my beliefs to words. I won't say I'm the perfect practitioner, but there's no denying the right ideas hard-wired into me somewhere.
I may not understand my own ability to influence or motivate or direct, but clearly others pick up on it. I suppose that's where my "must use powers for good, not evil" mantra came into play. At the end of the day I really just want what's right. I want to have enabled my team of people to shine.
I hope these guys see that. I hope that they understand a statement like "you deserve better than what you're getting out of me" isn't just a nice sounding string of words. I hope they sense my gratitude and sincerity and know my words are not chosen lightly. I hope they know how difficult it is for me to acknowledge that maybe it is time to go.
And I hope when I'm on the other side of that table (should I be deemed fit to serve in that capacity) I will have grown and learned from their example.
Captured At:2154
October 26, 2008
The other day one of my coworkers sent out a short online questionnaire for the Myer's Briggs test. One of the guys was baffled to discover that his T had flipped to an F; that is, his "thinking" preference had switched to one for "feeling". In part he blamed me. I gave him a hug as I told him how proud I was, and that clearly I was a positive influence.
The most interesting part? I don't test as an F. Never have. True my feelings are deep and powerful and a significant driver for who I am. True I display extreme levels of care and compassion and empathy. True they're part of the reason people tell me I'm such a good person. But, given the choice, I almost always opt for logic over emotion. Letting my emotions win out has never sat well with me in the end.
Yet I still give into them every now and again when I'm pretty sure I should not. If nothing else, the most recent loss of control has shown me who I don't belong going to under certain conditions. I know when I'm not being understood. I know when I'm being judged. I know when somebody who claims to be a friend is being anything but one. I guess the distance stays put for now.
Fortunately I was able to recognize Friday for the aberration it was in an otherwise content week. I went to sleep thankful that every day is new, and that new day did not disappoint. It was full of routine, but I enjoyed every moment.
Today was very much the same, save for hours waiting for customer support that I eventually gave up on. At the end of the night I stood with our Trunk or Treat group amazed to realize that I, the girl who isn't enough of an engineer, was suddenly the engineer who isn't enough of a girl. My oft-made statements about the divided, almost outcast nature of my life are not an exaggeration.
But tonight I'm not complaining. I feel the year's final season blowing over my body and find I'm nostalgic yet at peace. I recognize my ghost in the weather and lightly wonder if he will ever become something I can touch back. The affection is genuine. It would be a shame if he never got to receive it.
Captured At:2113
October 29, 2008
That paragraph alone should make it clear how much I dislike and ignore politics whenever possible. Yet the blind eyes I acquire this time of year opened for a moment to allow recognition of a single small sign placed in the grass outside the park. I knew that name. Something shivered inside of me.
It was exactly five years to the day of the Columbia Village dedication. I remembered the slight disgust in my stomach as the mayor stood up and gave himself a pat on the back for his city having approved our plans for the buildings. Our guests would never have known it, but the addition of those eight facilities to our campus skyline had only come about by putting up a fight.
I watched the battle from home in the summer of 2002. Opposition came from both on campus and off. Students protested the partial loss of their "jungle" despite the explicit difference between the Botanical Gardens and the rest of the land. Residents protested out of dislike for the university. The city shot the plans down citing concerns about drainage or something similar. I remember being told that our plans surpassed the required codes and had still not been deemed good enough. The details are fuzzy, but we may have revamped and gone back a second time before we finally sued the city.
Our biggest opponent on the city council was the same woman whose latest campaign sign had just caught my attention. Although I never heard her name spoken, every written instance was more than adequate at conveying the general disdain members of my campus community felt for her. I certainly didn't realize it at the time, but the outcome of that battle would help determine my future.
It's amazing the way our lives can be impacted so strongly by the actions of people we never meet. I cannot even begin to imagine where I would be now if she had gotten her way.
But she didn't. We won the lawsuit and we finally received approval to build the dorms. The rest is history.
Captured At:1947