I’ve been going through a major bout of insecurity lately as a result of juggling so many responsibilities at once. We all go through this on occasion, so I don’t claim to be a special snowflake in this regard.
In an effort to feel a little less overwhelmed, I turned to a tool I should use more often: list making. After writing it all down, I find that I’m not quite as screwed as first thought.
With that, here’s a list of what I’ve accomplished so far this year.
Created a new LLC to run the family building
Signed up an anchor tenant for the building
Brought in a partner to manage the place so I can focus on my real job in infosec
Cleaned up the building, including painting inside and out and remodeling the front office
Moved the environmental cleanup on site from Phase 2 to 3, which allows us to actually clean up the mess after two years of digging, drilling and testing
Kept all the bills paid
What I need to do better at:
Taking better care of my health
Not coming unglued with every stressful development
We’ve all seen how nasty the Internet can be. Scroll Facebook, Twitter or any number of blogs on a given day and you’ll see people going out of their way to rip each other apart in the most cowardly way possible — hidden in the shadows.
Many of us have stories about being attacked online. Usually, it’s because we offered an opinion people disagreed with. But Amanda Nickerson has been living with something a lot more malignant: an online stalker who has created fake sites and accounts in her name and systematically tried to destroy her reputation. It has turned her life upside down and sideways, and it could happen to any of us.
I don’t know Amanda very well. We communicate a bit on Facebook and I count her husband Chris among my friends. But I’ve been inspired by her courage as she blogs about her experiences.
The blog, “My Life Exposed,” is must reading. I urge you to follow her story and learn from it.
This is the first in a series of posts about navigating through the unexpected. It’s based on experiences I’ve had since my father’s death last year. I’ve tried to follow the words of Winston Churchill, who once said, “If you’re going through Hell, keep going.”
I can’t say 2015 was the worst year I’ve ever had. But it was pretty damn shitty all the same.
My aunt and father — siblings — died within a week of each other after long illnesses. I inherited the task of closing out the family business, which included the responsibility of trying to sell a building that’s mired in a costly environmental cleanup. That, in addition to the already full family life and career I have.
I had spent my life running from the family business. I had built my own successful career. Now the whole crumbling enterprise was on my shoulders, and there was no escaping the responsibility. But I wasn’t about to quit the career I’d worked so hard on. So I doubled down, and 2016 has been about learning to make this new equilibrium work.
Because of the cleanup, I decided to hang on to the building and lease it. I moved into my father’s office and determined that I could do my real job from there and keep an eye on the place without having to keep driving between offices for crisis control. So far, so good.
It hasn’t been all bad. I’ve learned more about business and the legal system this year than I ever expected to. Having the office doesn’t suck. And the fact that I haven’t fucked it all up yet is a sizable confidence booster.
At one point in my life, I thought I had already faced all the big tests, passing them one by one until about the time I started this blog six-and-a-half years ago.
Looking back at the posts I wrote that first year, everything was about how I had brought all the demons to heel: facing down fear and anxiety, learning to manage an addictive personality, and so on.
What I wrote was genuine, and I’ve continued to hold true to a lot of the older lessons.
But the test is never over. Now that I know that, the next several posts will delve deeper into the new challenges.
Saturday was one of those days where everything was getting to me: the myriad tasks that need doing on the family building we’re leasing out, the adjustments I need to make to my health regimen, and the general lack of downtime.
As the day went on, though, I realized my inner turmoil was more about my career than my personal life. I’m suffering from a brutal bout of impostor syndrome.
Mood music:
I’ve been focusing on my job itself, lately: writing the reports and threat advisories that are a staple of what my team does, blogging specifically about those things and taking the lead on communications regarding vulnerabilities and other issues. That’s where my full focus SHOULD be, because that’s what my team counts on me for.
But my success in infosec has always been about my ability to contribute beyond my day job, and on that front I’ve been lagging.
I haven’t recorded a podcast in months. I’ve done very little security blogging outside of the stuff mentioned above. I don’t attend security conferences or volunteer to help out with local events like I used to. I haven’t given a talk or moderated a panel in months.
So when people continue to express appreciation for contributions to my industry, I don’t feel like I’m earning it. I start feeling like a fake. My Twitter, Facebook and LinkedIn followings keep expanding, and I don’t feel like I’ve earned that, either.
Are there legitimate reasons for the inactivity? Sure. My father’s death and the responsibilities he passed on to me forced a Seismic shift in how I conduct daily life.
But I also feel like I’m not doing the things I built my reputation on because I’ve simply fallen out of habit.
I’m tired a lot, but my inactivity seems to be fueling the exhaustion. When I give a lot of energy to my work passions, it creates more energy. My mental pilot has gone out from lack of it.
My inconsistent eating and exercise habits have only added to that, I’m sure.
I’ve been working to pull out of this downward spiral. I’ve been picking up the guitar at least three days a week, even if I only play for 10 minutes at a time. I’ve also pushed myself to write more in this blog.
Now I need to turn things up a few more decibels. It’s not going to be easy, because this is a hard pattern to break. But I have to do it. My self-respect is on the line.
To that end, I request this favor from all of you:
If you don’t see more of the content you’ve come to expect from me, call me out on it. Hold my feet to the fire. Don’t let me off the hook.
Before you tell me how much you respect me, make sure I’m really earning it.
By the next morning, the bad feelings had dulled and I had second thoughts about venting my anger the way I did. So I put this on my timeline:
Yesterday I was having a bad-attitude kind of day and I let it bleed onto Facebook. I try to never do that. Sorry to those who had to see it.
The larger reality is that I have a blessed life. I’m married to my best friend and we have two awesome children. We live in a great place. Erin C Brenner is doing great things with her business and I have a great job and legions of friends.
Managing a building on the side has been hard, but things there are steadily moving in the right direction and I’ve been able to keep it from affecting my work. I’ve also picked up a ton of business experience I never thought I’d have.
My biggest problem is that I’m sweating the little stuff too much lately and I haven’t been writing enough.
That’s gonna change.
Thanks to all of you for being in my life.
A lot of people responded, most saying I’m entitled to vent sometimes and that I’m way too hard on myself. I appreciated the words of support. But when people say I’m too hard on myself, I don’t entirely agree.
Sure, there’s a point where self-criticism can take ugly turns and be counterproductive, especially when you beat yourself up physically and mentally, lash out at everyone around you out of shame and fail to move on with life. I’ve gone down that road too many times.
I’ve also discovered that more often than not, when you think you’ve said or done something counterproductive, it’s healthy to acknowledge it. If you’re not hard on yourself once in a while, you never learn and evolve. I don’t want to be that guy. To that end, I feel better for having written that second take on Saturday morning.
The trick is to know when you’re putting yourself in check and when you’ve crossed over into angry self-righteousness. It’s difficult to see when you’ve crossed that line, but I think I’m getting better at it as I get older.
I was recently talking to a friend who has had a shitty couple of years, with illness and death in the family. He noted that he’s gotten a lot of support from friends, family and colleagues along the way and that he’s embarrassed about it.
I get where he’s coming from.
Mood music:
Whenever I’ve experienced the things he is going through, I’ve felt a little embarrassed when people come to me with sympathy and offers of support. Some of it is because of pride, and some of it is a fear that people don’t see you as being able to deal with the tough stuff.
As I’ve grown older, though, two things have gotten clearer:
If people are supporting you, it’s usually because you’ve supported them at difficult times in their lives, and they are repaying it. It means you’ve touched some lives and made a positive difference. So when you hit hard times, the people you’ve touched feel personally invested in your well being.
We all go through tough times and remember that support from others helped us along. And when we can return the favor, it feels good.
This dude has certainly touched a lot of lives. Everyone in our circle has deep affection for him, and he’s earned our support.
Whether I’ve earned the support people have given me along the way is for others to determine. But I’d like to think I have.
To my friend: Hang in there. When people reach out, know that it’s because you’re respected and loved.
Until I took on this family business stuff, I’d never had to deal with lawyers or real estate people at this magnitude. I had certainly never managed this kind of money. Here are five realizations — and five defenses — that have saved me from implosion.
5 Realizations
Lawyers are the best and worst of humanity. I have to deal with several of our own and other people’s lawyers for real estate matters and environmental remediation. The best ones guide you through traumatic minefields and save you from your own inexperience. The rest bleed you dry and bog you down — and bill you for every drop of blood spilled.
Hurry up and wait. Lawyers, insurance companies, government agencies and vendors love paperwork. I’ve filled out more in the last six months than I have in the previous five years. They want their forms immediately, but once they have them, you wait months for resolution.
Cost estimates are rarely accurate. There’s a huge disconnect between what vendors tell you something costs and what it actually costs. It’s usually more than you’re led to believe.
A good financial advisor can save your life. Mine has guided me through the intricacies of trust management, investments and loads of related tasks. I never could have handled it alone.
Insurance companies have nice people but evil policies. Processing Dad’s life insurance claims is a mind-numbing experience. When I call these companies and talk to real people, they’re nice enough. But the left hand never knows what the right hand is doing. This causes many problems.
5 Defenses
Trust no one. Even when people work for you, blind trust is hazardous. When you have three or more lawyers who have to talk to each other, miscommunication abounds. One will tell you what they think is a solution and you’ll walk away thinking the matter is settled. Then someone else will contradict the previous information and send you back to square one. In business, trust is expensive.
Take care of yourself. I can’t say I’ve learned to do this. But I’m realizing a poorly maintained body will fail under pressure before long.
Paying work comes first. It would be easy for me to let the family business overcome every aspect of my life. There are simply too many moving parts. Early on I found myself taking care of family business before my real work. Then I remembered the real work is what pays the mortgage, the kids’ tuition bills, healthcare and the food on the table. That must always come first.
Make them wait. Since paper pushers take their time, I’m learning to make them wait, too. It’s the closest I come to revenge — and to maintaining balance in my life.
Follow your conscience. I was terrified I’d fuck up everything in the beginning. But when I trust in God and follow my conscience, things work out.
Baseball has never been my thing, but I’m learning to deal with the big curve balls that keep coming my way.
Mood music:
Last year, before my father’s health went into its final descent, he asked me to help him with his unfinished business interests. Since his death, the task has been something close to a second full-time job.
I’m now in charge of cleaning up and selling the building that housed the family business. The work needed on the property is extensive and expensive. There are additional plots of land I’m responsible for selling, and there are accounts I have to manage responsibly — all while doing the best work I can in my real career as a writer in the information security industry. Work days are frequently interrupted with phone calls from lawyers, financial advisors, and real-estate people. And then there are bills to pay to keep the building standing.
Business is not my background and I never wanted this additional work. Life was already full and busy. I didn’t think I was up to the task because of my limited knowledge about real estate, investments and all the people that come with it. I was scared, frankly.
I was worried about mismanaging the family legacy. I was worried it would make me more absent as a father and husband. I was worried that my real job would suffer.
It’s still a major stress in my life and will be for years to come. But along the way something has happened: I’ve learned to carry the load and am even willing to contemplate the possibility that I’m getting good at this.
To my astonishment, I’ve still been able to give my real job 100 percent. And with the family business legacy tasks, I finally feel like I’m in full command. Though I want to punch my fist through walls many days, I’m glad I took this on. I’ve learned a ton, and the knowledge will be valuable going forward.
I think I’ve been able to do all this without neglecting my wife and kids. I certainly hope so. My faith has sustained me. Many awesome friends have helped me along, too. And the members of my household have been extremely patient. I’m grateful for that.
My coping tools have helped, though I admit there are days I forget to use them.
That’s how life works. Curve balls come our way and we either learn to catch them or get slammed in the face. I’ve taken a few blows to the head along the way, but I’m learning to play the game.
Here I am at another birthday. I’ve been telling people I couldn’t care less this year. It’s been a rough summer with too much upheaval, too much grief. There’s not much to celebrate. But the truth is, I’m grateful to be here.
Mood music:
That I’m now in my mid 40s is surprising — in my mind, at least.
When I was sick with Crohn’s Disease as a kid, I lost a lot of blood and developed several side ailments. When the OCD was burning out of control, I often felt I’d die young. I had a fatalistic view of things and just assumed I wasn’t long for this world and I didn’t care. I certainly did a lot to help the dying process along.
I also had a strange fear of current events and was convinced at one point that the world would burn in a nuclear holocaust before I hit 30.
When I was a prisoner to fear and anxiety, I really didn’t want to live long. I isolated myself. I spent much of my 30s on the couch with a shattered back, escaping through TV. I was breathing, but I was as good as dead some of the time.
Despite all that, I’m still here. And while it’s been a rough year, particularly since March, I’m grateful. I’m grateful for my wife, my children and my career.
I’m grateful for my faith, which has certainly helped me. I’m grateful for the army of friends and extended family that has been there in times good and bad. And I’m grateful for the good luck I’ve had.
With that in mind, celebrating might be appropriate after all. I think I’ll give it a try.
Written in 2015, at the death of my father and aunt a week apart. The hard lessons started when I lost my brother in 1984 and my best friend in 1996.
Having lost more friends and family than I care to count, I’ve tried writing posts over the years that make sense of grief. Or, at least, how I’ve worked through mine.
Mood music:
With the loss of my aunt and my father in the past month, I find myself thinking about those older writings. So I assembled this list. Its first purpose is to help me keep my perspective and regain my equilibrium. The second purpose, I hope, is to help others work through their own stages of grief.
Let it suck. Don’t be a hero. If you’re feeling pain, let it out. You don’t have to do it in front of people. Go in a room by yourself and let the waterworks flow if you have to. Don’t worry about trying to keep a manly face around people. You don’t have to pretend you’re A-OK for the sake of others in the room. In my case, when people ask how I’m doing, I just tell them I’m working through it. It’s more honest than saying I’m doing great, and I avoid language that takes me into pity-party territory.
Don’t forget the gratitude. When someone dies, it’s easy to get lost in your own grief. There’s even a self-pity reflex that kicks in. Try to take the time to remember how awesome your loved one was. Share the most amusing memories and have some laughs. The deceased would love that. And you’ll feel more at peace when you remember a life that was lived well.
Take a moment to appreciate what’s still around you. Your girlfriend. Your friends. If the death you just suffered should teach you anything, it’s that you never know how long the other loves of your life will be around. Don’t waste the time you have with them.
Don’t sit around looking at people you love and worrying yourself into an anxiety attack over the fact that God could take them from you at any moment. God holds all the cards, so it’s pointless to even think about it. Just be there for people, and let them be there for you.
Take care of yourself. You can comfort yourself with all the drugs, alcohol, sex, and food there are to have. But take it from me, giving in to addictions is nothing but slow suicide. You can’t move past grief and see the beauty of what’s left if you’re too busy trying to kill yourself. True, I learned a ton about the beauty of life from being an addict, but that doesn’t mean I’d ever wish that experience on others. If there’s a better way to cope, do it.
Embrace things that are bigger than you. Nothing has helped me get past grief more than doing service to others. It sounds like so much bullshit, but it’s not. Whether I’m helping out friends in need or doing last month’s Out of Darkness walk to raise money for suicide-prevention programs, I’m reminded that my own life could be much worse. Or, to put it another way, I’m reminded of how blessed I am.
This isn’t a science. It’s just what I’ve learned from my own walk through the valley of darkness. I’ve learned that life is a gift to be cherished and used wisely. I’ve also learned that it hurts sometimes. That’s OK.
