In honor of my Mother's 60th birthday today, perhaps she'll get a kick out of this installment.
My mother told me once about a recurring dream of hers, where she's standing on top of a skyscraper and her four kids--all under five years old in the dream--are falling off the building. Allowing any of us to fall is not an option; my mother finds that her limbs can stretch in Plastic Man fashion to catch each child. But rather than marvel at her ability to catch us when we fall, her underlying emotion in the dream is panic. What if we all fall simultaneously, and she runs out of appendages and can't catch us? She ended up waking up from her dream, not because she dropped any of us, but because she was so worked up over the prospect that she might.
God love my mother. She will always go down in history as a dedicated friend and devotee of her kids. Looking back on my childhood, her parenting goes down in the positive column of my life ledger, with a few tiny flecks in the negative. Those flecks are single moments in time, particularly in high school--a time when most teens attempt to spread their wings--when she reminded me of the many noxious fumes that a bird may encounter on the way to adulthood.
Mom didn't worry about the usual teen traps: sex, drugs, and general disinterest in safety. She tended to freak out about other things, that were more, well, unlikely.
"You're going to go into the city with your friends?" I want you to call me the MINUTE you get there. There are weird people in the city..."
"You're going to fly to Florida for spring break! But so many people are flying now; the plane's going to be SO HEAVY!"
Later in life, not much changed:
"You're moving to New York? What if you take the wrong subway to work and get lost?..."
"You're moving to California? There are EARTHQUAKES in California!"
All of her feared outcomes were possible, I suppose, but not likely, and, in my opinion, not worth mentioning to your kid. Rather than heed my mother I just brushed off her concerns as paranoid and did what I felt I needed to in order to satisfy my curiosity and thrive.
I used to joke about my mother being so crazy, but that's the cosmic joke that you don't discover until therapy or until you become an entrepreneur: Even the parental traits that you think you never adopted stick to some extent. What you resist persists.
I've never considered myself a paranoid person, though as an entrepreneur I have to wonder if I've become my mother.
Ever since (and every time) I've worked for myself I see the world in case scenarios--A, B, and C--"A" being the absolute best case scenario, and one that I entertain during moments of un-self-consciousness, when I imagine anything being possible. "B" is more the status quo, where work still needs to be done, when one is still an underdog hoping to achieve an outcome. C is a downright bad situation from which one should escape.
I'm most comfortable in B and C scenarios, when I'm fully functioning in less-than-ideal conditions but goaling for A. You could say that B and C are familiar. In my first few jobs out of school I functioned in B situations while sending out resumes, planning, and scheming for an A. On the occasion I happened upon a C situation, I would settle for a B--anything to bring normalcy back into my life, and when I got B again I'd pine away once again for an A.
When it comes to my relationships, I came to a personal threshold, perhaps a desire for efficiency, where I wouldn't devote time to, nor accept, anything less than an A scenario. With my work, I talk a good game. "Love what you do!" I say. I encourage people to follow their bliss at any cost. And yet, my expertise is officially in the B or C realm.
I'm like the marriage and family therapist who encourages others to seek an optimal relationship while she, herself, is in a dissatisfactory marriage. I suppose this occurs because the therapist develops an expertise around dysfunctional relationships, to the point where she doesn't know how to navigate a healthy one. Very few people come to her to confirm how great things are going. If they did, she'd wonder why two seemingly happy people feel depressed sometimes, or fight. Perhaps, if I found myself in an A situation I would mess up the place a bit--leave a few dishes out and kick a few pillows in order to make it look a bit more familiar, like a B situation.
I'm in the "horrible" position of being where visibility of the A scenario is good--good partners, dream business, sustainability, and challenge. Challenge is the only familiar aspect, the only one that I know how to dwell on.
The result is an underlying feeling that, despite all being fine--good even--I tend to presume that something is wrong. Something is being overlooked, underappreciated. There's always something that needs to be done. Thoughts come to me that are very, very strange. I don't express them in unadulterated form, as I've learned how to say things in ways that don't sound like my mother is saying them, but they are offered up in much the same spirit:
"I'm curious to know what our parameters are should we NOT hit our targets."
Translation: "We're investing in a new area of the business? But we just started the last part of the business. What if we run out of money? How will we eat? Will I have to sell my glass perfume bottle collection on ebay to live? Can I survive on bagels alone? How long will my Via Spiga boots last? What happens if hell breaks loose?"
"I think we should prioritize and focus."
Translation: "We're goaling for X? What if the market shifts? What if an earthquake disables my wireless, and wireless for hundreds of miles in every direction, and I can't reply to the ONE email message that I need to in order to hit our target? What if my failure to hit the target results in failure and ignominy? What if I become so ignominious that I get an invite to be on Surreal Life, and I accept?
I realize intellectually that this isn't a good investment of energy. As Wayne Dyer, my friend and coach Elisabeth, and anyone who believes in the power of quantum physics will tell you, energy follows thought. Place your thoughts on negative outcomes, and while the worst may not happen, it's more likely that they will, and more likely that the best outcomes won't.
This dynamic is in violent opposition to the belief that I had growing up, one supported by guilt and the fear of God that if you didn't fixate on a potentially horrible outcome, you were getting cocky, unappreciative of the possibilities, and asking for those outcomes to occur. I didn't get on airplanes without working through the possibility of a fiery death, or walk somewhere without expecting to get mugged. Likewise, with my business, I felt I had to be brave and at least envision the worst, to show reverence for it, in order to de-provoke it.
I thought I was being well-prepared, but in fact, I was living in B and C--even D--scenarios. Now, more than I seek million-dollar contracts, I seek positive energy, and I will go to whatever lengths to get it, seeking people who overcame tough odds, or who never questioned their ability to succeed, as my mentors. These people, I've learned, are not asking to be blindsighted by bad outcomes; they are simply making the best outcomes more likely in their lives.
My Dad, rest his overly clinical soul, tried to make this concept clear to my mother, although not very successfully. When she fretted over her kids' safety he often tried to comfort her with awkward wisdom.
"If they die in a car crash, then they die. It's not your fault because you didn't prevent it. Sometimes really bad things happen."
I suppose my father should have reworded his wisdom, to get at the root of the problem. He could have said: "No matter what, Babe, you're still a good Mom."
I would also add: Bad things happen, but so do dreams, untainted.
Yep, I thoroughly enjoyed this one Jor...every last paranoid detail. And I remember saying those things to you in some form or another...except about the plane being TOO HEAVY. That's just silly; but now that I think about it....
I'm afraid you are doomed to have some "mom" moments....all four of you kids. But, I make no apologies...I've always felt my "you can never be too cautious, too generous, or too humble" system always worked somehow. I'm personally very happy with how you and your sisters and brother turned out...even with dad's matter-of-fact influence. He really did know where I was coming from...and always gave me my space....and my props. Very wise on his part.
And as far as worrying about sex, drugs and all of those other influences...well I had great faith in my kids, their intelligence...and my system.
Hey, those candles I sent to you and Jesse...you wouldn't leave the house with them still burning, right? Love, Mom
Posted by: Joy | January 14, 2007 at 04:17 PM
The NLP teacher I've been training with said something interesting to me in a session I had. He said something along the line of "in order to have things something, you have to give up hope that you'll get it."
But he didn't mean that in a way of Buddhist non-attachment. He said that for some people, *hope* seems more important than happiness. So it actually seems like a better deal to hang onto the hope of being wealthy, than to actually be healthy.
Similarly, if you really had your job at an A, what would there be to strive for and hope for? How weird would that be? Would that seem unsafe, in some weird way?
Posted by: Jon Moter | January 14, 2007 at 04:24 PM
From my first days in the "working world", I always lived my 9-5 life with this mantra: "I'm not comfortable being comfortable." Yes, I was always in a B situation, as you described it, and always looking for an A. Shockingly, I FOUND my A--a cush project management job with no direct supervisor--and a year later, I quit. I'm glad I did, as I realize now I was just as unhappy in that gig as any of my B jobs. Why? Wrong profession. And (scary thought) I never would have discovered the RIGHT profession if I hadn't left the comfortable for the uncomfortable.
I think it's just human nature to want to sneak a peek at the grass beyond someone else's fence. Even though I'm into what I consider a great "A" job now, as well as married and the dad of a beautiful two-year-old (read: taking far less risks than I used to), I still remain open to--and even look forward to--the next chance to shake things up. And while it may not be for several years, the thought that change is out there, that it is, in fact, inevitable, keeps me interested in the here and now way more than if I felt I was home for good. Heck, isn't that what they call retirement?
Thanks for the post, Jory...as usual you help force me to become more of the introspective sort any good writer should naturally be...
Posted by: TP | January 26, 2007 at 10:19 AM