Reflections on Cancer

Just in case you missed it, here's the shorter versions and the long version of my cancer story.

Reflections on the Cancer....

or why "bad" things happen to "good" people

Cancer can be seen as a really bad thing. I'm not saying it's an easy thing, or that everyone has the kinds of outcomes I had. Clearly though challenging things like cancer can present opportunities to us and to those people around us. So many people rendered service to us, supported us, prayed for us. You all did amazing things for us, thank you, thank you , thank you.  You blessed our lives, and I'm certain you were blessed for your service. It is in facing situations like this that we learn what this life is really all about. How will we respond? Will we reach out and help others? Will we allow others to help us? Will we curl up in a little ball of bitterness and rage against God/the universe/everyone else that seems healthy and happy?

So when hurricanes happen, people die, houses are destroyed, but people can also reach out and help, neighbors get to know and support and even come to love each other. When a tsunami happens the environment may be polluted, people may die, businesses my disappear, but also people serve and love each other, they pull together, they serve selflessly, and we realize that for all of our strong foundations and engineering, all that we make and build with our hands can come to naught because nature is mightier than we are, and always will be.

Just to be clear, I don't always choose the happy place. I don't always choose to serve others and ask for help, sometimes I curl up and want the world to leave me alone. I am glad though for the opportunities I've had to serve others and be served. The more service we put into our lives of both types, the more we see what is important in this life.  To be loving, to help others, to be humble enough to be helped, it is through these kinds of activities that I can take the focus off of me, my suffering, my (often small and petty) problems and focus on making the world better for everyone.

Betrayal by..... yourself?

After being officially diagnosed as a diabetic (which is really part of the story as you may recall) I really didn't like having to take medication each day. I was lucky that I wasn't at the point where I had to take insulin, but I didn't like the idea of taking medication, essentially being dependent on something else, a chemical. I felt betrayed by my body, which I saw as somewhat separate from me. Conceptualizing yourself as your mind/spirit and your body as something else introduces all kinds of curious twists and turns in your thinking. This was a bit of betrayal for me to be diabetic. I've struggled with depression and been on antidepressants. They helped, and in way that was a relief, but again I felt it as a kind of betrayal.  For me cancer though didn't seem like a betrayal and I'm not sure why. It happened rather quickly and there isn't this component of ongoing need to take medication. I received the reassurance that everything would be ok. I still celebrate the milestones as a fulfillment of those reassurances from God.

I'm starting to think though that perhaps conceptualizing myself as my mind/spirit is not really helpful. It just leads to not liking your body, or betrayal. I think I could go on about this topic and how it relates to other parts of my life, but I think I'll save that for a future post.

On Being a Cancer Survivor

With the recent passing of my 4.5 year of being cancer free I went back and read my previous post on my cancer story I realized how long and while chronological (well mostly) it's almost stream of consciousness style of writing.

This post attempts to summarize in much shorter form my story in two different lengths. Just in case you haven't read the long one, there's spoilers in the short, short one.

Short Short Version of My Cancer Story

In 2007 while pursuing my MSc degree I had kidney cancer, and via surgery they took it out, really the only viable option as radiation and chemo don't work on such a thing. People were amazing we had all kinds of support even from people and communities that I had no idea would respond that way. It was amazing, an incredible experience.

We were left with almost 10k in medical bills, which through a fluke our "life threatening event" policy covered with a one-time payment of $30k. We paid off our credit card debt we had foolishly incurred as part of grad student life.

Long Version of My Cancer Story 

In 2007 I was in grad school doing my MSc in Human-Computer Interaction Design (HCI/d) and about to finish my first year. I peed blood (gross hematuira for you medically prone people) before class one day, and I high-tailed it to the health center after class. Following the blood tests they confirmed my Diabetes diagnosis (it hadn't been official yet) and recommended some imaging to make sure that there wasn't anything more serious causing the problems.

I was a bit chicken and used the extreme busy-ness of the semester to not get that imaging done sooner. I finally went for it just after returning from CHI2007, the big conference in my field. The ultrasound  in early May showed something major in my kidney, so a CT scan was ordered for a few days later and of course we researched all kinds of cancer/tumors of the kidney. Among all this activity I prayed more intensely and more purposefully than I had in a very long while, Vanessa was pregnant with our second child and due in July. The CT scan indicated it was almost certainly a renal cell clear cell carcinoma (because of the presence of necrotic, or dead, tissue inside it), and that it had already progressed to Stage II, so we had caught it early but not very early. 

This kind of preliminary diagnosis meant that chemo, radiation and virtually all other options were off the table as this kind of cancer, and indeed most kinds of renal cancer, don't respond to them. It's surgery or nothing. In a way it's good as one doesn't have to deal with the continued pain of such things. The problem though is that should the cancer reoccur within five years, survivorship is extremely low. Once past the 5 year mark then survivorship increases dramatically.

I had felt more betrayed by my body failing to deal well with sugar/carbohydrates (i.e. my diabetes) than this cancer inside me, but I didn't take time to think about it too much. We didn't pause, we didn't reflect too long, we prayed and we put the world into motion. People to call, emails to send and to get everyone we knew into prayer and fasting or whatever kinds of things their spiritual traditions suggested at such a time. My school family rallied around us, our church family did the same. The surgery was scheduled on May 15th, just a few days later, but there was a weekend between the scan and the surgery. We had a special fast that weekend, and during that time I felt a strong reassurance from God that it would turn out well, and as a kind of confirmation I received a priesthood blessing and I was told I would make a full recovery. I hadn't felt a panic before, but the sense of calm that settled over me was clearly not some kind of denial or not wanting to deal with facts but something much more.

Even our concerns about the medical costs were lifted. The problem was that like many Americans we had a very high deductible coverage, with a 4500 deductible and then we still had to cover 20% of the costs after that with a maximum of out of pocket of $10k, which we found out at that time was per health incident, not per year. For whatever reason we had also taken out a life threatening illness policy which paid out $30k per confirmed incident. Of course we didn't qualify as this was luckily, or possibly unluckily, not considered a life threatening disease as it was in Stage II. In school, and already facing our student loans, and 20k in credit card debt we weren't sure how we were going to handle the finances, but we felt like we would manage.

Friends came and stayed with Ezra while others came and stayed with Vanessa a the hospital. I remember going under very quickly in pre-op. In post-op I remember being foggy and saying thank you a lot. Vanessa told me later that I'm the politest sick person she's ever met. The radical nephrectomy (meaining they take the kidney, the adrenal gland and the lymph node and some of the adipose (fatty) tissue around them) took only a couple hours. I came out with 26 stitches in my stomach and because many of my core muscles were cut through an almost complete inability to bend over or sit up or roll to my left.

I was regaled with visits at the hospital and cards and a few books to read. My parents had arrived to help, and our neighbors who we hadn't really previously known came and pitched in, one mowing our lawn and others making more contact and asking if they could help. A few meals were brought but with my parents there we were being very well supported.

I was eager to get out of the hospital, I hate the fact that they don't let you properly sleep because they have to check on you. I was eager to be active, to walk. I took as many halting steps around my ward as I could each day, dragging my IV along with me. I begged to be released on the third day and my Dr. was happy with my rapid progress. I made an appearance at the traditional driveway hockey game many in my program played on Saturday, and I went to part of church on Sunday.

I walked slowly around the neighborhood each day. I was weak, but I was determined to get back some stamina. We awaited the pathology report which would give us the definitive diagnosis during those days following my release from the hospital. The hospital bills started to arrive soon enough. We we re responsible for $9500 of the total bills, (I think the total of everything was over 30k, which for surgery isn't that bad actually). 

The pathology report came back, and it was not actually Stage II renal cell clear cell carcinoma, but Stage IIIa, the tumor had pierced the renal envelope. I was very lucky indeed to have gotten the tumor out when I did as it was spreading.

We considered a radical change in the way we approached food in our home and prepared to make those changes, and I was quite discouraged at how very expensive eating organic and other whole foods and other things cost. This along with the medical bills had me doubting how we would get along financially. Low and behold all the incredible people in my school program raised several hundred dollars for a "HCI/d pantry makeover fund" and in the memo line of the check it said "Your awesomeness." I was blown away.

Lastly our life threatening event rider on our health insurance kicked in after they got confirmation from the pathology report. Amazingly our whole medical bill was taken care of and we were able to pay off our high interest rate credit card debt.

Why I like failure stories

Why would anyone like failure you say? Because it rocks.
OK I admit I don't always see it that way, sometimes I buy into the idea that failure sucks and I should be depressed when I fail and beat myself up for not being good enough.
What I DO love though is stories about failure, when some person fails, and often continues to fail, but they continue to keep going, to get back up, to keep on trying... I love it. Call it heartwarming, call me old fashioned, call it whatever you want, but keep on writing those kinds of stories.

This has applications in both personal and work life.
In work it's been said that you should "fail fast, and fail cheap" learn from your mistakes and then make something better. Drive to get something done, prototype it, try it out, see what works and what fails. This week's example of this was practicing my elevator pitch we did for a symposium early. The first few times were awful. I rearranged my slides, changed an image and it fell into place. In the end it was ok, I wasn't looking at the time and hadn't failed enough times to really do it well in 2 mins. A lesson learned!

There are lots of things that people struggle with. For me it's things like gritty messes cropping up places. Today's example was our ride home from church. We drive quite a distance and church is from 10-1, so we pack lunches for the boys to eat on the way home (and for the adults too, but not today as I was fasting). Ezra had a hard-boiled egg and instead of eating the yolk he decided to mash it all up and get it all over his pants and the car seat. When I saw it well after the fact I started to freak out. I wanted to yell at him, I did raise my voice, it's true, but not yelling. I failed fast, and without significant damage. I told him poorly done and at the next rest stop we pulled over and got rid of the mess, which surprisingly wasn't that hard to clean out. I have more "serious" struggles, but this is one of those things that I let interfere with my relationship with my kids and my own feelings of happiness.

Movies that are about people who are flawed, often deeply so, that continue to try and make something of themselves and their life are inspiring. Whether it be a character flaw (like my aversion to some kinds of messes), special needs (like autism), or something else when people keep on keeping on despite failure along the way it's awesome.

So if you're down don't forget... get back up, keep on going. Go and watch an uplifting movie or enjoy the following classic poem attributed to Dr. D.H. Groberg (which I've heard many times but for today's writing I got it from here).

The RaceWhenever I start to hang my head in front of failure’s face,
    my downward fall is broken by the memory of a race.
A children’s race, young boys, young men; how I remember well,
    excitement sure, but also fear, it wasn’t hard to tell.
They all lined up so full of hope, each thought to win that race
    or tie for first, or if not that, at least take second place.
Their parents watched from off the side, each cheering for their son,
    and each boy hoped to show his folks that he would be the one.


The whistle blew and off they flew, like chariots of fire,
    to win, to be the hero there, was each young boy’s desire.
One boy in particular, whose dad was in the crowd,
    was running in the lead and thought “My dad will be so proud.”
But as he speeded down the field and crossed a shallow dip,
    the little boy who thought he’d win, lost his step and slipped.
Trying hard to catch himself, his arms flew everyplace,
    and midst the laughter of the crowd he fell flat on his face.
As he fell, his hope fell too; he couldn’t win it now.
    Humiliated, he just wished to disappear somehow.


But as he fell his dad stood up and showed his anxious face,
    which to the boy so clearly said, “Get up and win that race!”
He quickly rose, no damage done, behind a bit that’s all,
    and ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall.
So anxious to restore himself, to catch up and to win,
    his mind went faster than his legs. He slipped and fell again.
He wished that he had quit before with only one disgrace.
    “I’m hopeless as a runner now, I shouldn’t try to race.”


But through the laughing crowd he searched and found his father’s face
    with a steady look that said again, “Get up and win that race!”
So he jumped up to try again, ten yards behind the last.
    “If I’m to gain those yards,” he thought, “I’ve got to run real fast!”
Exceeding everything he had, he regained eight, then ten...
    but trying hard to catch the lead, he slipped and fell again.
Defeat! He lay there silently. A tear dropped from his eye.
    “There’s no sense running anymore! Three strikes I’m out! Why try?
I’ve lost, so what’s the use?” he thought. “I’ll live with my disgrace.”
    But then he thought about his dad, who soon he’d have to face.


“Get up,” an echo sounded low, “you haven’t lost at all,
    for all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
Get up!” the echo urged him on, “Get up and take your place!
    You were not meant for failure here! Get up and win that race!”
So, up he rose to run once more, refusing to forfeit,
    and he resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn’t quit.
So far behind the others now, the most he’d ever been,
    still he gave it all he had and ran like he could win.
Three times he’d fallen stumbling, three times he rose again.
    Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end.


They cheered another boy who crossed the line and won first place,
    head high and proud and happy -- no falling, no disgrace.
But, when the fallen youngster crossed the line, in last place,
    the crowd gave him a greater cheer for finishing the race.
And even though he came in last with head bowed low, unproud,
    you would have thought he’d won the race, to listen to the crowd.
And to his dad he sadly said, “I didn’t do so well.”
    “To me, you won,” his father said. “You rose each time you fell.”


And now when things seem dark and bleak and difficult to face,
    the memory of that little boy helps me in my own race.
For all of life is like that race, with ups and downs and all.
    And all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
And when depression and despair shout loudly in my face,
    another voice within me says, “Get up and win that race!”

Little victories

It's a rare person who has lots of opportunities for big wins in the course of a month or a week or even a year. Much more it's the little things that add up and make a big difference.
Today's little win was when I was standing near the front door and noticed a flashing light outside. Within 30 seconds I realized it was the garbage truck approaching our house quickly. I opened the garage door ducking underneath it as soon as I could. Grabbing the very heavy and full can I hurried to the curb just as they were finishing our neighbor's.
I smiled and wished him a good day. He thought I was a bit odd but for me at least it really was a good day.

"A game for real men"

I recently saw this on the side of a page on Facebook.  It's in Dutch because I live in Holland, and it means "[a] game for real men." I'm sure this is true because it's on the internet, it's in an ad, and of course most certainly because a group of game designers, software engineers, and online marketing people have a deep and nuanced view of what the essence of masculinity is, gender roles & performance, and how to best create games not just for men, but "real" mean.  I've bought into some of this kind of silliness (or should I outright call it crap) and it's just not a helpful kind of thing for the most part. I'm tired of this kind of thing, even if it's a silly ad for a silly game. Let me decide what I think a man is, who I am, and who I want to be. I don't need artificial distinctions between "real" mean and faux men. It just doesn't serve me well, and I question whether it serves anyone at all.

What I learned about England

Our family vacation this year was 2 weeks in England.  Lots of fascinating things to see and do, and lots and lots of lovely English to hear and speak and be mutually understood.
Driving on the left is surprisingly easy to get used to, no problem at all really, though that was in my own car (we took the ferry across), the places I really needed to think were roundabouts and even that wasn't that big of a deal.  Left was the new right (only had to look one way to turn left), though I must say the English sure don't believe in spending money or using space for roads.  We spent almost the entire time in the Western part of England and there are very few freeways there (though they call them motorways of course).  There are some main roads, but even those seemed to be few and far between unless you stick to the larger cities and going directly from one to another.  Those main roads will be a full lane in each direction, often with a passing lane for going up hills and a few other spots on occasion, and at least a bit of a shoulder on the side of the road in most places.  Otherwise you're on these roads, that.... well before I went to England I wouldn't have imagined that such a thing would be considered anything but a country lane, a private drive, or something you see in places that don't have a very well developed infrastructure.  I guess in fact that's what I'm saying, the English haven't prioritised (spelling intentional) their private vehicle infrastructure.  We Americans spent millions in the 50s and spend billions today to expand and maintain our system of freeways.  One can drive from sea to shining sea on one of at least two, but often three or four east-west freeways, there quite a number of north-south routes.  The general rule of thumb in most populated areas is that the freeway will get you within 5 miles of where you want to go, and in suburban areas perhaps 10-20 miles and in rural area perhaps up 50 or in some cases 100 miles, but even then their are high quality highways to cover most of those kinds of distances in the US.  I'm not saying one is better than the other, but the difference is striking.  One could easily say that making the train easier and more convenient for travel is a good thing, but I'm not entirely certain that is the case in many of these places in the England.

So back to these little roads, often there aren't two full lanes, there is no shoulder at all, and there are hedges or a combination of hedges and the road is cut a bit lower than the surrounding land so that you're in what feels like a giant hedge maze.  One can drive for miles and never actually see the countryside around because you're always boxed into these little hedged roads.  The speed limit on these roads is often 40 or 50 mph, but it's almost impossible to drive that fast, often you just inch along at 25 or 30mph, sometimes less.  A trip of 10 miles can take 30 mins or more.  So many times the road was so narrow only one car can drive but irregularly spaced along the way are just slightly wider so as to allow two cars to get through.  The English though are very friendly drivers, and will gladly pull into a little spot and let you pass and wave you on.  Pulling out of some of these smaller roads on slightly larger roads can be difficult as visibility is often low and there were multiple times where someone would stop and flash their lights and let you get through.  It was nice.  The roads were so small at times that I was certain our GPS was taking us the wrong way... but no, that was just the road.

OK enough about roads, how about English food.  I'd heard stories from my uncle, and others who had lived in England years ago (in the 60s) and they described the food as not that great.  I've seen some English cooking shows and it seemed pretty good to me, but actually shopping most days and cooking (we had self-catering cottages) gives you a different feel for a place.  First of all the variety at stores was on par with the US.  So many stores here in NL are small with a limited selection and even in the larger stores the selection is still small.  The English, like so many places have superstores in many places and I admit I loved it. Going to a big Tesco or Sainsbury's was great.  I picked up some shirts at Sainsbury's that were really nice and quite inexpensive, but I digress, I was talking about food. So Pork Pies and Pasties of all kinds.... YUM. Pasties (especially Cornish Pasties) are a kind of meat pie.  Cornish Pasties are beef with potato, those seemed to be the most common but there were others.  The crust was generally doughy and soft.  Pork pies had the feeling of sold big chunks of some kind of pork wrapped up in a crust quite similar to pie crust in the US but without any of the sweetness.  I got the impression that the crust was made with lard which made it flaky, flavorful, and delicious.  Oh and they're both quite cheap, I mean really cheap in some places.  You can pick up a nice big pork pie for a pound, or four little ones, and these are the name brand ones. The pasties 2 for a pound of the cheaper kinds, and even the nice bigger ones at a decent restaurant with chips and such are always less than 5 pounds.  Otherwise fish and chips were delicious, had them almost every other day I think.  I found I prefer the Cod to the Haddock, and of course no malt vinegar for me thanks, though I often got some tartar sauce.
When talking about English cuisine and it's peculiarities one cannot forget about cream, as in clotted and double.  Double cream is like heavy whipping cream but even better.  Heavy cream in the US often has thickeners added to it (like carageenan) and the fat content is around 50-60%, while double cream is around 70-80% fat and has a fairly thick consistency. I really enjoyed double cream with fresh fruit many evenings for dessert.  Next is clotted cream.  Clotted cream is, well it's hard to describe, but it also has a higher fat content and when cold it's as solid as butter, but when approaching or at room temperature it's very spreadable.  It's creamy and just slightly sweet (though there is no added sugar).  It's made by heating milk for a long period of time and letting it cool, giving the top layer a yellowish layer of "clots" what is underneath is the color of regular cream.  Clotted cream makes up an integral part of "cream tea" which is tea (of your choice, rooibos for us) scones (usually two) and then clotted cream, and jam and usually butter too.  This will set you back 5-6 pounds in most places, but it's a really nice little break in the afternoon at... yes you guessed it tea time. I skipped the jam as I'm not eating added sugars, but still it was fun and delicious.  Clotted cream in my experience is best on baked goods/breads and while it was good just with fresh fruit, double cream was much better.
What else? Eating out in most places was pretty cheap compared to NL and less expensive than many other places in Europe, and portions were pretty large.  Sides sometimes included pickles and pickled onions.  Not my favorite, but decent.  When we got a salad it was good, but the variety there isn't as big it seems.  We were pleasantly surprised to find gluten-free options in many places, and that menus usually included calories which was really nice.  England also made me even more appreciative of the fact that I don't drink alcolhol, as that seemed to be very expensive. Oh and on that note, we were gladly served a nice jug of ice water at our table everyplace we asked for it, without charge, sidelong looks or any fuss.  That alone saves a lot compared to NL and many other places that either insist on selling you bottled water, or will charge you something (though not usually much) for tap water.

clarity of communication

So I'm just marveling at how easy it is to be unclear in communication when you want something from someone. I received a message from someone and didn't act on it, mostly because I had no idea what the person really wanted me to do.  I know I've made similar requests to people asking for some of their time quite often.  It seems this happens with email a lot, but can happen face to face.
I think the clearest way to avoid this kind of problem is to be clear on what is wanted in the first place.  Sometimes you're not really sure, and you just want to sit down and brainstorm or bounce some ideas off the other person.  You can tell them that, and right away things become clearer.
What strategies do you employ to move people to action or get a response, or get what you would like from them? Especially via email?

Why do you go to church?

Today we had an interesting discussion during our priesthood meeting (i.e.our men's group at church because each of us holds the priesthood).  We talked about the talk Elder Niel L Andersen of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles gave to the church last October called Never Leave Him.

There are two major "warning signs" that he talks about: offended or ashamed.
I'll definitely recommend that you read the talk, listen to it, or watch the video for yourself, but a few thoughts came up for me when we were talking about it from my own experience.
First of all is that we can only be offended if we choose to be.  In English it is quite natural for one to say that "she offended me" or "that was rather offensive" but in reality the only way one can be offended is by choosing to take offence.  This does mean, nor would I advocate that we can just go around and say whatever we would like not matter how crude, crass, unkind, or insensitive to people, but it does mean that when someone says something that may initially rub you the wrong way you can either let it bother you and become offended, or you can choose to let it go.
I have a friend that, God bless them, has tried to let people people said or did be a reason for them not to come back to church.  I said to that person, and I say to you, dear reader, why do you go to church?
If you only go because people are nice to you and say kind things to you it will only be so long until someone says something that is rude or insensitive.  Perhaps you may think that this is a bit bold, but it is the case.  No one is perfect.  There may be a lot of people at church who are trying to be better people, follow Christ, repent etc, but none are perfect.  There may even be some people who just like to go, enjoy it, and aren't really actively trying to become better people.  I don't know, I'm not in charge of assessing such things, but it seems very possible. In any case I can guarantee that there will come a time that some will say or do something mean, rude, or insensitive.  It will most likely not be intentional, though it it may be.
Whatever it may be what will not coming back to church permanently hurt that other person, the body of the church in general, or your particular ward (congregation)? NO, it will not.
You may be missed by some, but even if you're not missed by anyone and who will it hurt the most?
Only you, should you choose to stay away.
Again I'll ask, do you go to church only if people are kind and nice?
Do you go to church only if people behave themselves and help your children in the way you want them to?
Do you go to church only if the Bishop (pastor) says thank you for your service?
Do you go to church only if the Relief Society (women's group) president seeks out your help for the next activity?
If you answered yes to any of those questions, I do not condemn you, but it will let you know something about yourself. You can choose to stay that way, or change is possible.
If you don't know why you go to church then perhaps you should ask yourself that question in a serious and considered way.
Phrased another way: will you let someone else stop you from going? Will you let fear of "what people might say" keep you away?  Will you let what someone else says or does control whether you worship, commune, praise, or covenant with God? If so then it's a good thing to know about yourself.  It's a good indicator of how things work for you in your spiritual path, at least right now.

I don't go to church because I love the people who are there and want to talk with them 24/7.  It' a plus to me that I do love them.
I don't go to church because I expect to be treated kindly or well. It's a plus that in my experience that does happen 98% of the time.
I don't go to church because of that crazy old lady who smells a bit funny to me and says strange things, but I have to admit I find it at least somewhat entertaining or annoying depending on the circumstances. I'm not going to let her stop me from going though.
I don't go to church because I'm perfect, or even that good of a person sometimes. I go because I know it's the right thing, I want to go, I want to be a better person.  I want to get to the place in my life where when I take the sacrament (communion) it's like being baptized, and at least for that moment I'm perfect in Christ and perhaps that might last more than a few seconds.

Learning to focus-2 examples

One of the things I've noticed about myself is that I can get distracted rather easily, or that I have a hard time focusing on something for an extended period of time, let's say more than 15 minutes or so.  I also noticed that much like my autistic son that I enjoy routine, and when that routine is upset I can get inordinately upset or distracted about that.

My routine on the way to work during the winter involves a train ride from my house in Best to Eindhoven and then a 4.4km (2.7 mile) ride down to the High Tech Campus
View Larger Map
When the weather is really bad I take the bus, otherwise I ride my bike  and lock  it up in the fietskellar (the underground bike storage) beneath the station (It's totally worth paying €13/mo to keep it safe from theft and dry).
Today as I was heading down the stairs to get my bike I looked for my bike key only to find I had not put my bike key back into my change purse.  I flashed back to seeing my key on my dresser, but because I have several I assumed it was another one.  Which reminds me I really need to put a key in my backpack again so I have a backup... ok added to my to-do list.. and moving on.
I realized I would need to take the bus.  The bus takes the same amount of transit time (more or less) but then I don't get to exercise or enjoy the fresh air, and I would have to wait 10 mins for it to leave. I started to feel anxious about my writing schedule for the day getting messed up. What was I going to do? Maybe my whole day would be ruined by this?  I felt bad because I would also be spending money on the bus that was avoidable "if only I had remembered."
I paused and thought, "what should I do?"
I then remembered that I could rent a bike for about what it costs to ride the bus both ways and while it would cost me some money it wouldn't cost me any extra time and I would enjoy this supremely wonderful sunshine we've enjoyed for the last two days in the middle of February.  I was somewhat comforted by the fact that this isn't cash out of my pocket but rather billed to my bank account monthly and it wouldn't happen  for 4 weeks.
By simply pausing to think about alternatives I was able to find something that worked. Even if this was not the case, in reflection now I can see that it wouldn't be that big of a deal.
As I rode to work I was again troubled about "all the stuff I had to do" today, what would I do first? Would it all get done? I then remembered quite naturally that I had written out every single project I was working on as part of my process (based largely on Getting Things Done or GTD).  Feeling uptight again I thought I'll have to review my project tracker to see exactly what it is I should be working on, then I reminded myself I already knew.  In the mornings I write, first on priority projects then blogging or other things, and I knew which two things need to be written this week.
In due course I got to my desk and, set up my laptop and was faced with where I had left my computer last, witch email and all kinds of things open. Dealing with email first thing in the mornings kills productivity for me, and most people. I recommend against it. I had one tab open about something I knew needed some follow up, so I quickly copied the URL and dropped that into a task in outlook and closed up all the things that could be distracting for me, and opened up one of my documents I'm working on.  As I write I come to natural lulls in the pace.  I try to use those lulls to take care of my needs so as to write consistently when I'm in my state of flow.  If while I'm writing I all-of-a-sudden think of something I should do, an email I should send, or start feeling hungry or run out of water, I quickly think about if I am still in the writing zone. Often I am, and can gently remind myself that writing is one of the most important things I can do each day and getting these things written is what I should do.  Also "no email before 11am" works wonders for me. So I simply go back to writing.  If the need is urgent like I need to hit the bathroom then I break immediately.  If I'm out of the zone I take a quick break to take care of myself, stretch etc and then back to work. I found myself at least a few times back into facebook or email for a moment, my first impulse was to beat up on myself for such.  Instead though it was so easy to just go back to writing because I was clear about what I needed to get done.  It was time to execute, to do the things I needed to do "ship" as Seth Godin says, and by knowing what was really important I am able to slip right back into doing it.

I guess I'm learning what it takes for me to do focus, and writing about it here is helps me be reflective and by bring reflective I can learn about how I work (self studentship).  I hope as well by sharing how I work you may gain some insights or pick up a strategy that may work for you.

Oh and while I'm not trying to hawk books, some of these books especially the one below really have helped, so why not link to them?

when the things you think are important become requirements

Have you ever liked something so much that it became required for your life to go on, or for you to feel good about life?
It's a funny thing.
We start out liking something.  We may notice when when we do something or when we have something we feel better in someway. We then create a desire or wanting for this thing in our life.  I think that's great, but for me this wanting, this desire then becomes something more. If I don't do it I then become unhappy, it's now required for my happiness. I may even judge myself that if I didn't do or get it then I'm a bad person.
Rubbish, complete and utter rubbish I say.
Here's an example:
I set my alarm and got up and meditated and prayed for a few minutes then sat under my new "happy lamp" (daylight bulb) and read scriptures. I then went and played with Ezra in his playroom for a while, then Micah wanted some daddy time so we played trains for a bit, then showered and family prayer, kiss the kids, make out with my wife, grab my breakfast and lunch I packed last night and catch my train then ride my bike from the station to work. A really picture perfect morning.
Now let's look at Wednesday.  I did the shower and the train parts of that, forgot my key so no bike, forgot my badge to get into the office. I felt crappy about my morning, and in fact I judged it to be a bad morning, and I went so far as to think I must be a bad person.  Typing that now it's pretty obvious to me what nonsense this is, but in that moment I was wrapped up in guilt and unhappiness.
I think it's great to do things that make you happy and feel good, that put you on the path that you want to be in your life, but don't let those times that you don't do it create something awful.
To use another analogy: have you ever had a favorite topping for cereal or maybe ice cream? I know that I really enjoy oatmeal with real melted butter, brown sugar, and cinnamon. What if one day we've run out of butter, and only have margarine. I turn up my nose at the margarine and carry on with the two other ingredients. I could choose to either be bitter that we don't have any, become bitter, ask myself why my wife can't just get me the things I NEED, or I can eat what I have notice hey, this could be better, and maybe write a note for myself to buy some butter on my way home or maybe ask my wife to do so next time she does.
It's like I think that unless I get unhappy about not having something then I think I won't change it. Unhappiness is a good motivator, no doubt about it, but is it the best one? Will it help in the long term?

What are the things you beat yourself up about if you don't do or have?

What are the things that make you happy?