Tag: planning

Autistic Anticipation

How do people navigate such turmoil?

I was just diagnosed with ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder) in December of 2022, a few weeks before my 58th birthday. I wrote about what caused me to seek this diagnosis here. I’m rather new at this stuff, and I’ll be blogging quite a bit about various aspects of it as I go along, reading and learning and wondering what this means for me, as I suspect that quite a few other people are experiencing a similar thing.

Check out my autism category for a list of relevant blog posts, and never forget that 1) I’m just one person, writing about my personal experiences with a thing I only just learned I had. 2) No two people on the spectrum are alike. 3) I am not a medical or mental health professional. 4) I’m not attempting to write a one size fits all autism advice column.

There’s this coping mechanism that I have employed my entire life. Usually it serves me well. Unfortunately, sometimes it backfires. But it works often enough to not change my ways at this late date. Still, I suspect it wouldn’t hurt if I revamped my operating system a bit.

I’m now calling this coping mechanism “Autistic Anticipation”. It’s second nature to me. It’s how I’ve learned to survive in a world that thinks differently than I do. It never occurred to me to break it down into its basic parts until now. Looking at it through the lens of my autism, I suspect it’s an autism thing, but I’m not sure. Maybe it’s just a Barb thing. I’d be interested in your perspective in the comments below.

If I’m walking into a situation that’s not the usual routine for me, I tend to preview what I assume will happen in my head before the event takes place. I do this because I don’t like surprises. I find the unknown to be extremely (and if I could come up with a word that was more extreme than extremely, I’d be using that) stressful.

I do this before going to a restaurant or a party or having a difficult conversation with someone. I do it before making a phone call or going to the grocery store. And I’m so practiced at it that I often do it in a split second. But here’s the thought process:

“I’ve never been to this restaurant before. The following people will be with me. We’ll walk in and there will be someone waiting who will take us to our seats. Or maybe they’ll tell us there’s a waiting period, in which case we’ll sit there and wait unless it’s an obscenely long waiting period, in which case we’ll go elsewhere. Or maybe there will be a sign that says ‘Please Seat Yourself’. If that’s the case then I’ll let my friends decide. I prefer booths or tables that aren’t too close to the kitchen or the bathroom or the entrance, but I’d rather just let someone else choose. I’ll review the menu online in advance so that when it comes time to order, I’ll already have a pretty good idea of what I want.”

I usually don’t anticipate beyond that point, because by then we’re finally settled in at the restaurant, and everything usually goes smoothly from there. Situations like this, which are fairly straightforward, rarely backfire on me. But when they do, it really rattles my cage.

For example, I anticipated arriving an hour in advance for an important meeting because my stress level goes through the roof when I’m running late. As expected, I got there in plenty of time. But then I had anticipated killing that time by going into the nearby public library and using their bathroom and then reading a book. I had already checked on line and the library would be open. (Public libraries are an oasis for me. They’re usually quiet, and not overstimulating. If I could live in a library I would.)

But this was an unusually cold, snowy day, and when I got to the library, even though there appeared to be about 5 employees inside, they refused to open because they weren’t fully staffed. All the libraries in the county were closed. Many staff members couldn’t even get their cars out of their driveways.

Now, I get that life is full of surprises. I really do. And I’m guessing a neurotypical person would maybe be mildly disappointed by this unexpected glitch, but would pretty much take it in stride. But for me this was less of a stride and more of a stumble.

My brain tends to short circuit for a bit when things don’t go to plan. That, and I was already nervous about my upcoming meeting, and to make matters worse I really had to pee. I was in a part of town that I was unfamiliar with, so I kind of froze like a deer in headlights while I tried to figure out what to do.

Obviously, finding a bathroom was the top priority. So I went to my car, looked up convenience stores near me on my phone, and attempted to find relief in each one. I don’t know if it’s a COVID thing or a Pacific Northwest thing, but every place I went either claimed not to have a bathroom (gimme a break), or the bathroom was out of order or closed until further notice. Next, I tried gas stations. Same deal.

By this point the only option I could come up with was to walk behind one of the gas stations, go behind the dumpster, and… well, you get the idea. Blessed relief combined with repugnance and humiliation. I killed the rest of the time that needed killing by sitting in my car in some random parking lot, trying my best to calm down and not cry.

If I didn’t do my Autistic Anticipation thing, every experience would feel like the library one to me. Nothing can ever go to plan when there is no plan. So I plan.

The most problematic scenarios for me tend to be those that involve conversations with people. In my head, I say A, the person responds B, I reply C, and they react D. I draw my assumptions from past interactions with that person. I think, “She’s going to discount my suggestion because she often does,” or, “He’ll really enjoy this information, and will probably laugh with me about it.”

I’d say about 60 percent of the time the conversations go the way I expected them to. But when they don’t it tends to upset and/or confuse me. The worst case scenario is that I anticipate giving someone what I assume they’ll think is good news, only to find that it angers or upsets them instead. I bet you can practically see the smoke coming out of my ears at that point. Major system malfunction. What do I do now? Shut down. Reboot. And that tends to amplify the other person’s negative response.

Someone gently pointed out to me recently that I should allow people to tell me what they think rather than assuming I already know. Good point. Very good point. I wish it were that easy.

But I get knots in my stomach when I contemplate living in such a chaotic world. Imagine, people running around willy-nilly, thinking for themselves. How do people navigate such turmoil? I struggle to picture it.

My autism isn’t something that I can switch on or off at will. For me, autistic anticipation isn’t some mere personality flaw that I can just get over. It’s a survival skill.

My autistic masking/quick fix for this will be to try not to voice my assumptions in front of that person. But that adds to my stress and causes me to have to remember yet another rule. My brain is already jam packed with rules that I try to follow so as not to irritate the people around me. I’m better at this than most neurotypicals expect, but they also don’t understand how much energy I have to expend to keep up the facade. They see a blank expression on my face, but that’s because I’m focused on running on the autistic hamster wheel that is my thought process.

I’m a work in progress just as everyone else is. But at least I’m starting to familiarize myself with all my inner cogs and gears and how they function. That’s a step in the right direction, isn’t it?

I expect you’ll say yes. And just like that, there I go again, making assumptions. It’s practically a reflex at this point.

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West Coast Wander: The Aftermath

An adventure doesn’t start when you set out, and it doesn’t end when you get home.

We had a two-week vacation, and decided that it would be fun to drive down the coasts of Washington, Oregon, and California and then drop off our rental car and take a train back home. I’m calling this journey the West Coast Wander, and plan to blog about it every other day so as not to totally alienate those who have no interest in travel, and yet allow those who do to travel vicariously with us. Here’s the first in the series, if you want to start at the beginning.  I hope you enjoy it, dear reader.

In many ways, an adventure doesn’t start when you set out, and it doesn’t end when you get home. There’s often much planning and research involved. I’m really grateful that I have a partner who gets into this portion of the trip as much as I do. Gone, forever, are the days when I did all the research and reservations and the other person just sat comfortably back and enjoyed the ride. If you are going to take a trip with someone, I strongly suggest you take a deep dive into the vacation prep. That’s a good part of the fun, and greatly adds to the anticipation.

In fact, not only does Dear Husband do much of the reserving after mutual discussion, but he also prefers to drive, just as I prefer not to. So I must admit that he drove all the 2250 miles himself. Suits me. But I did feel a tiny bit of residual guilt, because I’m sure I got to see more than he did.

He also did about 85 percent of the ritual schlepping of the luggage from car to hotel to car… rinse… repeat. Believe me, it didn’t go unnoticed. And he often has to do a great deal of work as we travel. He continues to bring home his fair share of the bacon even as we feast upon it. I’m ever so grateful for him.

I must confess that DH has a lot more energy than I do. By way of example, when we got home after this epic journey, I sat glued to the recliner, with my dachshund snuggled up against me, as if I had been dropped from a 50 story building. DH, on the other hand, immediately unpacked 90 percent of his stuff. In my single days, I had been known to leave things in my suitcase for months after a trip had ended. Since I no longer live alone, I wouldn’t think of putting things off that long. But the same day? Nope.

I did manage to put a load of our dirty clothes in the washing machine, though. I even turned it on. That counts for something, right?

Since I have a luxurious amount of vacation time (Union strong!) I have also gotten into the habit of having an extra day at the tail end of the trip to chill out at home before getting back onto the work treadmill again. So that night I went to bed knowing that I’d be able to sleep in. What a gift.

I woke up around 3 am for my mid-sleep pee, noted the time, and thought, “That’s cool. This hotel has its alarm clock in the exact same location as I do at home.” But wait! I was home! Yay!

As more evidence of the difference in energy levels, DH woke up bright and early, met up with some family to tell them about the trip, and, with their help, removed the trash from two miles of roadway in front of our house.

I slept ‘til noon. Traveling can be taxing.

In the previous posts, I didn’t talk much about the souvenirs we picked up along the way, so some photos thereof appear below. Neither of us are really into stuff, so we tend to focus on fridge magnets, stickers, and postcards, as they don’t take up very much space. And we do often get a Christmas ornament or two. They’ll provide us with many happy memories over the years. I hope that makes up for the mild post-vacation depression I am known to experience.

Ah, but what an amazing trip we had! The pandemic put its stamp on it in a lot of weird and unexpected ways. I never realized how I used to dance through life assuming that places would open themselves up and draw me in. Now, it gets a lot more complicated. Often reservations are required. Just as often, places are locked up tight, with no anticipated reopening in sight. I don’t think our world will ever be the same. That gave the trip a curious aftertaste. But I think it’s safe to say that, on the balance, a good time was had by all. As it should be.

One thing I just realized is that after two weeks driving along the west coast, with the Pacific as our constant companion, we never once touched the ocean. (Well, unless you count getting our shoes slightly wet when we visited the tide pools of Duxbury Reef.) How did we manage that? That’s practically a crime.

Hmmm. I guess we’ll have to go back someday. If so, I’ll be sure and tell you all about it.

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Foreign Travel 101

How to build a vacation.

I absolutely live to travel. It’s my reason for being. I’ve been to 22 countries, and I suspect that I have many more miles to go before I take that final sleep.

It has never been very far from my mind that I’m really a lot luckier than most people in terms of travel. According to this article, 40% of Americans never leave the country, 10% have never left their home state, and 76% wish they could travel more than they do currently. That’s a crying shame.

Based on those statistics, it’s safe to assume that for many people who are traveling abroad, it’s a trip of a lifetime for which they feel ill-prepared. But never fear. All of the advice I’m about to give you has come from years of trial and error.

First, read my blog post entitled Foreign Travel Advice for Americans. Even if you aren’t American, you’ll find it helpful. This is a very detailed post that discusses all the homework one must do prior to any trip. The more you do ahead of time, the less stressful and more fruitful your travel experience will be. I can’t emphasize this enough. For every hour of legwork you do in advance, you’ll save yourself days of hassle on the voyage.

Next, take a peek at my blog post entitled Packing for Your Trip. This is a master packing list I’ve made over time. Take that list, eliminate those things that don’t apply to you, your trip, or the season in which you are traveling, and what you have left should be a very thorough packing list for any holiday. But do yourself a favor and pack light. You have no idea how much time you’ll spend schlepping your luggage from pillar to post. So if you don’t absolutely need something, leave it home.

But it occurs to me that neither of those two posts actually gets into the nuts and bolts of building your trip. Package deals complete with tour guides are very easy and convenient, but frankly, I find those experiences to be soul-sucking. I’d much rather have a do it yourself trip, so that’s what I’ll describe below. Some of this is pretty basic, but it will come in handy if you’re feeling overwhelmed.

  1. Determine how much vacation time you have.

  2. Get a good, up to date guidebook of the country you’d like to visit, and read it cover to cover, highlighting the things you feel you absolutely must see, and, in a different color, the things you’d simply like to see.

  3. Also, talk to friends who have already taken this trip. They will be your best sources to determine what can or should be skipped, and what absolutely should not be missed.

  4. A good guidebook should be able to tell you how many days you need for each location. List your must see destinations, and how many days they should take. As hard as it may be to do, you might have to eliminate some of your must sees based on the time you have available. On the other hand, if you find you have a surplus of days (you lucky devil), you can start adding in your “like to see” destinations as well.

  5. Print out a line drawing of the country in question, and then pencil in the must-see destinations to determine which places are close together, so you can decide what route you should take through the country.

  6. Don’t forget that you’ll likely lose a half a day each time you move from one city to the next, so try to cluster your locations into hubs, and stay in central locations. Believe me when I say that it’s an absolute horror to stay in a different place every single night.

  7. Now that you have a sense of where you’d like to go, and in what order, it’s time to determine when to travel. Most guidebooks will tell you the high, shoulder, and low travel seasons for the country in question. Choose carefully.

    1. In low season, things will be cheaper and there will be fewer crowds, but certain destinations will be closed. Check before you go. It would be very unfortunate to arrive and discover that the one thing you wanted to see the most is shuttered for the next few months.

    2. On the other hand, high season is usually high season for a reason. The weather is optimal and there are a lot of exciting things going on. But the massive wall of humanity, along with their screaming children, can be a misery.

    3. I try to do shoulder season. It’s slightly less expensive and slightly less crowded than high season, and slightly more is open than in low season. If you can’t do that, at least do the very beginning or the very end of high season, especially if it means school is in session and the kiddies are less likely to be chewing on your ankles.

  8. Okay, great. Now you have a basic idea of where you want to go and when, and what you want to see. Let’s find out if it’s even possible. First of all, check into flights to and from home, and see if they’re available on the days in question. I highly recommend that you try to do your international flights on Monday through Thursday, rather than going on the weekends, as those weekday flights are usually much less expensive. But shop around. Visit Kayak.com, for example, and then check the website of the airline in question to see if an even better deal is available. Don’t forget to take advantage of any mileage points you’ve accumulated through credit cards. Don’t put this off until the last minute. The more lead time you have, the more options and price ranges will be available. You’ll find that once you’ve reserved those flights, the trip will seem even more exciting and real.

  9. Once that is done, it’s time to figure out how you’ll get from place to place within the country. Should you travel by train, bus, rental car, or domestic flights? Again, your guidebook will give you great advice along those lines.

  10. Once you have a sense of how you want to get around, and a basic skeleton of your itinerary, now check to be sure that your transportation mode is available on the desired day. No sense in planning to take a ferry to the Isle of Capri on a Sunday if the ferries don’t run on that day. Adjust your itinerary accordingly. (If you’re a museum buff, it’s also important to make sure the museum in question will be open on the day you plan to visit.)

  11. Once you’ve got your itinerary and your transportation nailed down, it’s time to reserve your hotels. Think about your budget. Decide whether you want to stay at 5 star hotels or Airbnbs or hostels or, if you’re really brave and don’t require luxury or privacy, check out couchsurfing.com. Read up on all the possibilities. Visit their websites. Check availability. Then make your reservations.

  12. Now the trip is really shaping up! It’s time to figure out what you’d like to do from day to day. What sites will you visit? How much time will it take? Take your guidebook seriously if it recommends advance reservations for various venues, and plan accordingly.

Don’t overpack your itinerary. Allow for things to go awry. Contrary to popular belief, the trains don’t always run on time. You may wish to linger longer than you anticipated. Who knows? A local might befriend you and invite you to attend a wedding. Experiences like that are priceless. Give yourself a little padding and be flexible.

Above all, remember, this is supposed to be fun! Do the work in advance and then relax and enjoy the trip! Bon voyage!

This spring, we plan to spend a few weeks in Italy! I’m so excited! I’ve wanted to explore Italy in depth for decades. But except for a brief, 12 hour taste of Venice (which was at best a cruel, frustrating tease), life just kept getting in the way. Rest assured I’ll be blogging about the experience in future posts.

Travel

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On Being Taken Care Of

Is this what it feels like to have someone give an actual sh*t about you?

I know someone who used to get really irritated when her husband took care of things for her. She was a strong, independent woman and it really bothered her when he’d step in and take charge. It was the main thing that would spark arguments between them.

I, too, am strong and independent, so I can kind of get where she was coming from. After all, one of my first full sentences was, “I can do it myself!”

But here’s the thing. (Yes, there’s always a thing.) In every long-term relationship I’ve ever had up to this point, I’ve been the one taking care of things.

I planned the trips, organized the doctors’ visits, and kept our financial house in order. I was the writer of lists, the finder of lost keys, the maker of reservations, the problem solver. I was the one to say, “Don’t forget you have that thing today.” I kept track of the birthdays. I bought the gifts. I turned off the burners on the stove. I made sure the lights stayed on.

Because of that, to others I looked like the nagging fishwife. I was the bad guy. What no one on the outside seemed to realize was that somebody had to drive this thing, or our ship of state would have foundered on the rocks.

It was exhausting. It was stressful. Unbalanced relationships always are. I felt more like a mother than a lover.

Now, for the first time in my life, I have someone who wants to take care of me. Man, this feels weird. I’m not going to lie.

In all of my 53 years, I’ve never known what that was like. Ever. I’m struggling with the notion that I deserve it. I’m not quite sure what to do with myself. But I like it. A lot.

I like that he is willing to go to doctors’ appointments with me. I like that he likes to drive, and usually knows where we’re going better than I do. He remembers to put the concert tickets in his wallet. I like that he makes plans and lists. I like that he reminds me of things as much as I remind him.

Is this what it feels like to have someone give an actual sh*t about you? Well, alrighty then. I’ll take it.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to turn into an albatross around my husband’s neck. I certainly know what that feels like, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.

No. I want to do my part. I want this to be an equal partnership in the aggregate. (Realizing that on some days one of us is bound to be in better shape than the other, and that’s okay.)

But that will be a challenge for me. Because that means not doing every single solitary thing myself. It means learning to sit back sometimes and say, “Go right ahead, honey.” It means not having to worry about keeping track of everything. What a concept.

I’ve never been able to do that before. It feels like, for the first time, I have a chance to catch my breath. I think I could grow accustomed to this. I’m certainly willing to try.

I just need to learn not to feel so guilty when I’m not on point. I also need to make sure that I keep up with my end of things. I need to not lean too hard, and make sure that he will never doubt that he can rely on me, too.

Most of all, I never, ever want to take this for granted. Because, like a fragile flower, this marriage needs nurturing by me, too, in order to bloom.

nurturing

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My Very Last Vacation

I live for travel. I used to go to a different foreign country every two years. I miss that. I hope to get back to that financial place again at some point. I also hope to have someone to travel with again one of these days. Traveling alone isn’t nearly as fun. Who knows what the future will bring.

One thing I do know, and that’s that I will take my very last vacation someday. I fervently hope that I don’t know it’s my last one at the time that I’m taking it. That’s a little too bittersweet for my liking.

No, I’d much rather take a lovely tour of Italy and then come home and be hit by a crosstown bus as I’m crossing the street to the bookstore to buy the guidebook for my next trip. If I have to shuffle off this mortal coil, I’d like to do it while planning for an exciting future. I don’t want to slowly circle the drain while gazing fixedly down that dark and moldy hole.

Half the fun of travel, for me, is the anticipation. The planning. I like to read everything I can about my destination, because nothing pisses me off more than coming back home to discover that there was something really spectacular within walking distance that I didn’t see. That leaves me feeling like I didn’t do my homework, that I’ve shirked my responsibilities, that I’ve failed myself.

I don’t have the luxury of returning to places I’ve visited again and again. The world is too big. There’s way too much to see. So the end of each vacation is kind of like a little death. I mourn the amazing place I’ve just been, because I know that the odds are high that I’ll never see it again. If I had to couple that mourning with the concept that I’d also never get to see anyplace else again, ever, it would be entirely too much to bear.

travel

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I’ve Come Undone

I am at the end of my rope. I’m on the ragged edge. I’m losing it.

I’m buying a house. I’m packing, I’m moving. I’m making changes and updating and getting rid of stuff. I’m doing paperwork. I’m documenting. I’m panicking that I won’t get everything done on time, or I’ll forget something important. And I’m doing this all by myself.

Well, that’s not entirely true. My realtor and my loan officer have been great. But there is no one whom I can wake up in the middle of the night when I’m having an anxiety attack, unless you count my long-suffering dog, Quagmire. There’s no one to lighten the load. There’s no one who will shoulder the burden, even for just an hour or two, to give me the tiniest of breaks. I can’t say, “Honey, could you please make that particular decision? I’ve had it.” I’m fresh out of honey.

I’m going to have to hire people to help me move and clean and modify and repair, because lord knows no one is stepping up to volunteer. And I don’t have much money. I wish just one thing about all this would go smoothly. Just one.

I wish I were Amish, or something. Because it really does take a freakin’ village, and it feels like there’s no civilization for miles.

But I take a great deal of comfort from the quote below. This is growth. It may look like chaos, but it’s growth. I’ll just be glad when it’s over.

For-a-seed-to-achieve-its-greatest-expression-it-must-come-completely-undone

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Plan “Be”

I can’t remember where I read about this concept, but it appeals to me greatly. Just be. Live in the now. Don’t dwell on the past or worry about the future. Pure bliss.

It’s not as easy as it looks, though. For example, I’m in the midst of planning my vacations for the year. Obviously, that’s future stuff. And I came across my diary from high school, and have been reading it. Past stuff.

Much of this blog is about past experience or future dreams. And I’m a little stressed because I’ve been sick as a dog for the past few days, so I don’t have as many future blog entries waiting in the queue as I usually do.

Past, Future…see how many times I’ve bounced from one to the other in just the PAST few paragraphs? Why is it so hard to stay in the present? Do we not value it as much?

In truth, the present is the only thing that is real. The way we remember the past changes over time, and we view it through our own biased lens. As for the future, it may not come about. You could be hit by a bus tomorrow.

Heaven knows that the way I had my life plotted out in my high school diary certainly never came to be. Sometimes I look in the mirror and say to myself, “How the hell did you get here?” Sometimes that’s an angry question. Other times it’s infused with gratitude and awe.

But there I go again, reflecting on the past. I’ll have to work on that. Sometime in the future…

past future

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Keep Your Distance–Demolition in Progress

I have this friend who is a great guy. In many ways, he’s the male version of me. He loves to travel, is liberal, and is a bit of a science nerd. He’s curious about the world and the people in it. He’s got a lot of stories to tell and he’s fun to banter with. For a brief, shining moment, there, I had a massive crush on him.

But here’s where we part company: His very existence is a slow motion train wreck. He has no steady employment and no steady address. There’s absolutely no stability in his life whatsoever.

I may be biased toward my Capricornian sense of organization and planning and order, but it seems to me that if you are that much of an eff up in your 50’s, you’ve had to put a great deal of time and effort into it. Granted, unexpected things can happen, and you never know when fate is going to kick you in the teeth, but to consistently operate without a stable foundation for your whole life long requires a certain skill set that eludes me.

Okay, to assume I know what’s best for everyone may be typical of me, but even I realize that that’s not particularly realistic. And yet I have to say that I have watched this guy make certain choices that were bound to have disastrous results. It almost seems as though he does these things to himself on purpose. Chaos is drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

The only reason for this that I can think of is that it’s a highly effective way to keep people at arm’s length. It’s a rare individual who will voluntarily run into a burning building, after all. And this amazing, lovable guy is a towering inferno.

demolition_of_partick_central_railway_station

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Just One Step Ahead

I don’t think I’d be very good at chess, even if I found someone with the patience to teach me how to play. I find it very hard to strategize. Thinking 3 steps ahead seems to confound me. If I were on Survivor, I’d be the first one voted off the island.

Having said that, I am extremely good at thinking one step ahead. I can anticipate accidents waiting to happen and take steps to prevent them. I can also figure out the immediate consequences of my actions.

It never ceases to amaze me that more people aren’t good at this. If they were, here are the kinds of things they would be thinking:

“Maybe I shouldn’t stop and chat with someone right in the middle of the grocery aisle, because other people are trying to shop.”

“I really need to make it a point not to throw my cigarette butts on the sidewalk, because some poor non-smoking schmuck is going to have to clean them up.”

“Actually, I shouldn’t be smoking in the first place, because my loved ones do not want to see me die a horrible death.”

“If I abuse this child, he’s going to have problems as an adult.”

“If I drink (or text) and drive, someone else might get killed.”

“It is a good idea to spay or neuter my pet to avoid generations of suffering strays.”

“If I don’t vote, or I vote for a third party candidate, Donald Trump might win.”

“If I don’t pay my taxes, infrastructure and support agencies might not exist when I need them.”

“It’s probably not a good idea to come to a dead stop on a drawbridge when a 2000 ton gravel barge is bearing down on it.”

To me, thinking one step ahead comes easily. Apparently this is rare, though, because I see people not having the thoughts above all the time. And it renders me speechless.

2000px-iceberg_and_titanic_en-svg

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Learning to Fall

The other day at work I had Fall Prevention training. As a bridgetender, there will occasionally be moments where I’m called upon to work at a dangerous height, so this training is essential. The fact that I never received this type of instruction in my thirteen years as a bridgetender in Florida tells you everything you need to know about the difference in work culture here in Seattle. My current employer actually cares if I live or die. Yeah, yeah, part of that is due to litigation, I know, but I genuinely believe they value me much more than my former employer ever did. Heaven knows they pay me more.

The class was actually rather interesting. Not only did I learn how to properly inspect, wear and maintain my harness, but I learned some basic physics. To oversimplify things to an extreme degree, there’s no point in attaching your harness to a 60 foot rope if you’re standing on the edge of a 40 foot drop.

I also learned something rather fascinating. If you do fall and you’re dangling in a harness for more than a minute or two, expect to pass out cold when you are finally rescued. That harness is going to cut off the circulation to your legs, so your body will be taking all the oxygen out of the blood in the lower half of your body to survive. So when you finally stand up again, all that deoxygenated blood is going to rush to your head, and, basically, it’ll be lights out. You can count on it. They don’t show you that in the movies.

But of course, since I live in my head most of the time, I also learned a few philosophical truths along with everything else. Learning how to fall is important. If you do it right, you’ll survive. It’s okay, it’s even attractive, to be vulnerable, but it’s also critical to have contingency plans and put serious thought into everything that you do. Prevention is key, but plans are necessary, too.

It’s also about educated faith. Trust the equipment, but inspect it first. If you’re going to fall, make it a knowledgeable fall. If I had a coat of arms, I think that should be my motto.

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[Image credit: mubi.com]