Tag Archives: life

life

Reflections on Grief

It’s now been 15 years since I lost my Dad. I’m not sure why that one hit me harder than most, perhaps because he was one of the two people that gave me the gift of Life. It’s not like I haven’t lost people or beloved pets before or since – by that point all my grandparents, my godfather and Dad’s older brother, as well as a cousin were gone. Maybe it was because it was the first layoff in my career and I had time to reflect more, as I have recently.

Regardless, it shifted my thinking about life and grief intrinsically. It’s continued to shift as I’ve aged and watched my niece, nephew and young cousins grow up to become teenagers and adults. And as I’ve lost more family and friends.

I see him more as I age. In my brother and nephew, but also in myself – especially in the mirror now that I’m in my 40s. As I’ve aged I often reflect on where he was at that point in his life, positively and negatively. How career and financially wise I’m a little better off, but sadly I never got to marry and raise a family like him. Or how when he was about my age he was about to get divorced and change his life dramatically for the rest of it.

The past doesn’t repeat, but I definitely see rhymes in our paths – so I live pragmatically hoping that I’ll live to 92 like I plan, but also trying to live for today in case I go at or around 60 when he and many of the other significant males in my life died. Each birthday it’s like I have a bell ring out – X more years until you leave this world – what are you doing to make the most of it?

Being on forced sabbatical the last two years has given me time to read, listen to podcasts, and reflect. One of the topics I’ve reflected on a lot has been grief – largely through Anderson Cooper’s podcast on it. Something that they brought up that I’d experienced but had not really processed until recently is – Death isn’t really the end. Your relationship with the people you are about, especially the ones you care about most, continues after their death.

My relationship with Dad is different today than it was 5, 10 or even 15 years ago. I give him more grace, as I’ve failed and experienced challenges I believe he did. I’ve forgiven him for most if not all of the grievances I once held against him. I understand more why he made some choices or did some of the things he did. I’ve come to understand how unrelenting and exhausting life and adulting can be – even more so when you have the blessings and responsibilities of children and a family like he had, which I will never experience. 

I don’t know what lies beyond this world, if anything. I don’t know if there is another place after this that our thoughts pierce the veil. But I talk to him, asking for help or guidance. I don’t talk just to him and the conversations are different based on the type of relationship it was. I talk to my lost pets – how I wish I’d been more mature and took better care of them, even if I likely did the best I could with the resources and knowledge I had at the time. To my beloved friend who left far too young – about how it’s unfair she isn’t here to see her grandkids, while I who have no one still am.

It doesn’t matter if they hear or not, it brings me understanding or closure at times. It helps me process the loss of them from my life. It reminds me to say things and make my intentions clear with those I’ll leave behind. To think about how I allocate the resources I have and when – now when I can see the benefit they provide, or after I’m gone when they may be greater but could be decades from now. Hopefully to live more in the moment as I don’t know how many more tomorrows I will get – and how many times but for the grace of God it’s almost been none already.

It’s odd how death turns people into a snapshot. My cousin and friend were both older than me when they died, but now I am older than they lived to be. It’s strange to think about that. If I get another decade I’ll be older than two of my grandparents. Another 15 years I’ll be older than my Dad. I’ve heard my Mom talk about this with her parents, as she’s now older than both of them lived to be. 

Grief is individual and unending. We don’t know which losses will affect us nor how deeply. The fire from them never really goes out, it only dims. Years or decades letter some random smell or thought or whatever will cause that fire to flare for a moment, as powerful and dominant as it originally was. 

I’ve come to accept it as a sort of blessing. When I dream about my Dad, my ferrets, my Loafy, or someone else I’ve lost only to wake up and realize it was sadly all just a dream – the pain of that loss cuts me deeply again, but it also brings peace. Maybe that’s just the brain’s way of processing something. Or maybe it’s just a brief furlough for them from death, to address some unfinished business, say goodbye, or remind us of their love for us.

Death may be the end of the relationship for them, but not for us. It just changes to grief and we have to navigate this new dynamic until one day, if we’ve lived a life worth living, we cause someone else to grieve. 

I hope to live my life such that it cuts shallow, but wide. That I love fiercely, so those that I do know without a doubt. But also that there is little left unsaid, so while they will get a pang in their heart when they remember I’m no longer here it will quickly be replaced by a wistful smile from a fond memory. And that while I often fail to live up to my ideals of kindness, grace, empathy, and compassion still they – and not my failures – become what I’m remembered for most.

Thanks Dad.
I love you.
I miss you.
I truly hope you’ve found the peace you never could seem to find here.

life

Resilience takes many forms

I’ve been thinking a lot about resilience lately, mainly for obvious reasons. At my last company we were told it was an important trait. I tend to agree with the overall sentiment but I also think that it takes forms you may not expect.

I see it in reminding yourself that a layoff is not a failure on your part, but on upper leadership – even as you struggle to land your next opportunity. In not listening to the impostor syndrome living in your head, but believing past colleagues when they say, or write recommendations, that you were valuable – both in your work and as a person. In believing in yourself and risking hope, despite a wave of rejection that pushes you towards despair. In helping others – with encouragement or kindness or recommendations to remind them how awesome they are – even when you grapple with how to help yourself.

We have minimal control over the challenges we will face in Life, despite our best efforts. The only real control we have is how we respond to those challenges.

There is a really great Instagram I was introduced to. Basically it constantly reminds you that a bad day does not equal a bad life, that life is hard and sometimes you need to rest and recharge, and you are not broken even if you feel like it sometimes. It reminds me that resilience and success are imperfect and not a straight line. And that often our own worst critic is ourselves.

As I get older I feel like I’m less sure of what I know, paradoxically. One thing that has served me well for a while though is to put the energy into the world that you wish you received. Not in the sense that it will be circular and necessarily make its way back to you – it often doesn’t. Simply because society is an interconnected organism and if we truly want the experiment to succeed we’re always going to need more kindness, empathy, grace, and humor.

Finally I think resilience is about community, as it builds your support network. That could include family – immediate or extended, a church or faith organization, friends, pets, neighbors, or however you find belonging. I’ve felt most resilient when I felt I belonged somewhere. When I don’t is when I struggle the most with believing in myself.

Be kind, show grace, and have empathy – for yourselves and others. Try to find humor, even in your darkest moments. Find a few moments of joy and small things to be grateful for every day. Love those that you care about fiercely and remind them of that love regularly. I think if we do this as best we can each day, we are showing resilience.

career, life

I Worry

I worry a lot lately about my career. Will I get another opportunity to be a developer and, more importantly, will it be a good one with fair pay and benefits? Or will I spend however long I have left living off my savings and random underemployed jobs?

I have a lot of challenges in standing out from other people going for the jobs I apply to. I’m at an age where people, especially in tech, often don’t want to give you a chance anymore. I’ve always been a bit specialized so while I have JavaScript skills in various libraries and frameworks I’m not very confident in my skills. I have to always double check my syntax or look up what exactly it is to turn the algorithm I know into something that it will run. That lack of confidence shows in phone screenings and interviews unfortunately. Finally I’m very socially awkward which throws people off until they get to know me better.

So I worry. That even though I know I have valuable skills, I won’t get a good opportunity. I’d like to say it’s impostor syndrome but the longer I go between jobs the more I worry that maybe the data is validating my doubts. 

I try to draw from the evidence of my career for confidence. The dozens of heartfelt, kind, and generous recommendations colleagues have given me over the years on LinkedIn. The fact that I’ve worked for a half dozen companies from startups with less than a dozen people to Fortune 100 giants. That code I’ve written has powered sites from freelance brochure sites getting hundreds of visitors a month to ones getting millions. 

I look at the length and breadth of my career. From working on sites that used tables for layout and had hacks for IE6 to the birth and growth of responsive web design and device agnostic sites to flex and grid and JavaScript frameworks. And everything in between. 

I know my heart and that I’m still passionate about solving interesting problems and helping users get done what they need in as simple and intuitive ways as possible. That I enjoy making sites that are accessible and responsive. That I’m driven to work with other smart, talented, passionate people who I can mentor and learn from. That I believe I’m a good colleague willing to build people up, be kind and empathetic, and always understanding that while we love what we do it’s a job and that life is more than just work.

But still I worry. That I won’t be seen in an ocean full of so many candidates, including a lot of fake AI ones. That my networking and social skills will be lacking to get me that crucial second look. That with everything going against me I’ll have to be perfect at every step and even one mistake will doom me.

I often see how confident some of my peers and colleagues are and wonder if they ever feel the same. If they never ask “why me?” but always think “why not me?” I wish I could be like that. A long time ago in what feels like another life I sold Cutco and my managers there always pushed the concept of “acting as if”. Acting as if you’d sold a million dollars of it, that the sale was a given it was just a question of what they’d decide to get, that the person you were calling with just a name of a friend as a way in would give you their time and not hang up on you. But I never really could then either.

I feel like I’ve spent my whole life grinding but never really breaking through to that, perhaps mythical plane, where you’re successful, respected, and looked up to. I’ve always felt like I had to prove myself every week or every day and that eventually someone would figure out I’m a big fraud and it would all come crashing down. Lately it feels like that’s happened.

I try to have hope. I fully realize how lucky and blessed I’ve been to have had the career I’ve had and have always been very careful to secure myself as best as I could in case it did end unexpectedly. But it’s disappointing to feel like you have so much more to offer and so many goals that seem just within reach, yet you just can’t seem to get traction. It reminds me of a quote from a movie I like, “You try to fight back, but the harder you fight, the deeper you sink. Until you can’t move… you can’t breathe… because you’re in over your head. Like quicksand.” I feel overwhelmed and discouraged and hopeless.

So I worry. And I pray to the universe. And I try to stay ambitious and driven about learning, reading, and staying up to date on what’s going on. Even when it feels utterly pointless. When you spend a half hour making an account in Workday to apply to a single job that is exactly what you’ve been doing for the last decade… and less than five minutes later you get an auto rejection that basically says you’re unqualified. Even when you know that it’s not true, but it’s hard to keep the faith in that belief.

I don’t know what’s next or what I’m going to do, and that possibly worries me the most. I try to focus on what I can control. I try to remind myself that I’m not defined by my job or my career. That I’ve sold knives and cleaned cages and stocked shelves. And while I might want more than that there is always that if I have to. That pride doesn’t get you very far and often causes more problems than it solves.

So I worry and I write and I dream and I hope. Tomorrow the Universe may listen and care. But for today all I can do is live the best I can in this precious gift called life.

career

Rethinking Work

Nothing I have to say on this topic is new and, therefore, probably not that interesting. But I have thought, read and listened a lot about it and so it’s been dominating a portion of my brain for a while now.

I’ve always struggled with the traditional office environment. Harsh lights that gave me headaches. A hum of noise around distracting me so much I often had to have headphones in listening to music, usually louder than my cubicle mates would appreciate in my younger years. People stopping by my or neighboring desks to ask questions that could have been sent in DMs and looked at during natural pauses in flow.

I’ve thought a lot about the concept of flow, that sort of zen like state often spoken of in reverence that developers get into. While it is a thing and often directly correlates to developer productivity level there’s also the cynical part of me that looks at it from the outside. How so often developers are given an air of mystique – going into flow, solving great problems, whiteboards full of cryptic notes and diagrams. Again all of it does have a core of truth in it but I often think how much we play into it for our own benefit. Or how it’s not that different from anyone else just having deep focus on a problem. But I digress.

Going back to productivity and the core of what I set out to talk about I think companies and leadership have it wrong right now. As I write this we’re deep into the “return to office” (RTO) movement in that most large companies are pushing to limit if not do away with remote and even hybrid work to a great degree. One of the things I often came back to in meetings when we seemed to be spiraling without arriving at a solution was the simple question of “what are we actually trying to solve?”

With RTO it seems to be two things – control and productivity. Control in the workplace has always been a battlefield where the front line moves back and forth between employees and companies. When there’s more need than workers we get more mobility, benefits, and pay. When there’s not, we have to make compromises and sacrifices to support ourselves or our families. But productivity I think is the more interesting one. It directly relates to something that employers focus on – return on investment (ROI). If I’m more productive for the same salary, they get more. So often their goal is to make us more productive which they feel RTO does. But the data I’ve seen implies different and we saw this in the unwilling experiment we were all enrolled into during the pandemic.

When the pandemic started I had already been working remotely for about six months and working hybrid before that for years. Having all of my colleagues join me remotely was even better for me. I’ve often struggled with when to interject in conversations which means I really struggle during meetings over a certain size. But with all of us in Zoom (or Teams or whatever) your ability to read body language and the room was limited, so we all sort of naturally fell into the tools built in like the hand raising feature. So if I had something to say I could use that and it felt much more natural and comfortable for me. 

After people started to initially go back into the office I struggled again. Partly because of that – people wouldn’t look for the hand notification as naturally anymore instead focusing on the people in the room – but also because as with most companies I worked on distributed teams. Even if we were all in the office there were multiple offices – NYC, Boston, India, etc. So now you not only had side conversations going on in a room but multiple ones and they couldn’t see each other.

During the pandemic we also utilized DMs, emails and other asynchronous forms of communication because you couldn’t lean over a cubicle wall or walk to someone’s desk. And because we were all in the same boat we grew comfortable with focusing on tasks and then checking them during natural breaks in focus (or flow). Once people started going back into the office that changed back as well with more desire for immediate responses.

One of the things I noticed most is that during the pandemic the teams I was on were very high performance. Our productivity was much higher before some of us returned to the office. Communication and rapport were also better before RTO. I had an interesting dichotomy as I worked on two teams. One that was distributed and hybrid and one that was almost fully remote. The fully remote team continued on being very productive and cohesive – even though many of us were (like myself) not 100% assigned to the team. The hybrid team tended to coalesce around office locations.

I noticed this most with two of the more junior developers on the team. During the pandemic when everyone was remote both got guidance and mentorship about equally. After we went back to the office because of the distribution of the team, one was in our main office with both tech leads and another senior developer while the other was on their own even when in the office. I don’t think you need many chances to guess who tended to get more mentorship after RTO.

And that sort of gets to my point. Remote work always felt more democratic and productive to me. We’re all on the same level so we all have the same voice and attention, not just who is in front of tech leads, management, etc. So mentorship and promotions at least feel more fair. Bonds are made not by proximity but by rapport and respect. Finally you’re able to have more control over your focus so you can do more deep work.

If you were observing me in the office versus remote it may look like I was more productive in the office, but there’s an illusion there. I wouldn’t argue that if you compared time directly in front of the computer I was probably doing that more in the office. And it was because of being in the office, but not because people were watching me. It was because I couldn’t control interruptions, would get pulled out of flow, and then have to get back into it. The same problems I could solve in 1-2 hours at home where I could just be heads down would take me 3x (or longer) in the office. Unless I sequestered myself in one of our “phone booths” or jammed my headphones in and ignored everyone who didn’t directly tap me on the shoulder or sit on my desk – but at that point what is the value of going into the office anyways?

I get the arguments against it. Managers are able to see us more in the office. But they weren’t during the pandemic and most of the data I’ve seen says that was some of the most productive times for companies. Maybe that’s skewed a bit because we literally couldn’t leave our houses, but even as things started to open up the data I’ve seen seemed to hold. It seemed to do wonders for retention too because, surprisingly, when you treat people like adults and look at their results and not whether they’re sitting at a desk in some office somewhere for a requisite number of hours they feel more valued and trusted. Which makes them want to stay and, ironically, work to keep that trust. They value the natural joy of actually building and accomplishing things, of having purpose.

I also get that for junior developers it’s harder to be mentored virtually than in person. It helps to sit next to someone rather than sharing a screen on Zoom. But now there’s a huge push towards AI and pair programming (or vibe coding or whatever the next buzzword will be) which is basically exactly the same thing as virtual mentoring.

So again I go back to – what are we really trying to solve? As humans, with our one wild and precious life, what do we really want from our work which will take up so much of our lives during some of the best years? Why can’t we have a little more trust, empathy, and kindness for and in each other? Or are we all just doomed to being “resources” that capitalism can extract as much productivity from before they have no more use for us and toss us aside? 

I know the type of company I would build if I had the wealth, ambition, and skills to. But maybe that’s just me. 

career, life

“My one wild and precious life”

At the beginning of March I will have been unemployed for 6 months. Which I believe ties the longest stretch I’ve been out of work in my professional career and is one of the few long gaps where I haven’t had a job since I was a teenager. 

I have been of two minds lately. Part of me has been critical of myself. I should have been using this time to improve and keep my skills fresh. To learn new frameworks, contribute to open source projects, take on new freelance gigs, or finally crank out that CSS Zen Garden example I’ve always thought about. To set myself apart from all the other developers out there in the same situation.

I keep thinking about how when I do finally get an interview – yes, after months and dozens upon dozens of applications I’ve barely got phone screenings, never mind an interview despite having been doing this for a long time – I’m going to be rusty, look unprepared, and fail miserably. That I’m going to lose out on some opportunity. That I’m going to fail and lose everything I’ve been working for in my career.

My other mind is thinking of how burnt out I was towards the end of my last job. How difficult it was through and even several years after Covid. How being remote and often forgotten as people went back to a hybrid schedule left me feeling isolated, especially after having moved 700 miles away from most of my family near the end of 2019. How hard it was to find joy and satisfaction in my work some days. 

So instead I’ve been spending my time reading, playing with my cats (including my new adopted family member Elsie), playing video games, watching movies and tv shows that have sat too long in my watchlists, going to museums, walking, thinking, and writing. Which has caused me to think a lot about that poem The Summer Day by Mary Oliver. About how this decade of my Life has been one about great challenges and resiliency. Of loss and starting to feel old. And how even when I get a job again it will likely be at least 20-25 years before I’m granted an opportunity like this to just… live.

I want to feel more guilty. I do think about how it will likely cost me in lost future income and wealth generation. But I also think about what is the point of all that if I never get to live to enjoy it. How I’ve lost friends and family that were younger than I am today. How at this point in his Life my Dad only had 15 years left. About my recent car accident and how many close calls I had on my motorcycle before I stopped riding a few years ago and how I don’t know how many more tomorrows I may get. 

So I try to show myself grace. I try to draw peace and hope from a post I recently saw that talked about how maybe you don’t need a wizard or rock star or 10x developer, but just someone boring and experienced. Someone that feels a lot more like me. Someone who will probably never wow you but has delivered and done their best to be a good, empathetic and kind coworker.

I don’t really regret the jobs I didn’t get or the money I didn’t make, not at this point in my life and career. But I do regret the life opportunities I missed. Part of moving away was a sense of “carpe diem” after a friend of mine died five years ago, right about the same age I am now. I had big Life plans that, sadly, didn’t quite work out and in hindsight may not have been worth the trade off. But the spirit of that – to live, to find joy, to savor this precious gift we call Life – I think I may have forgotten it until being granted this opportunity to slow down and think about what I really want.

So no, I haven’t become a better developer during my unplanned sabbatical that this has become. But I think that’s okay. I think I will be okay. 

“Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?”