Modern Skepticism, Attempt At Reconciliation

Skepticism. No word has gained a worse reputation in a short amount of time. The expression started a long time ago, with good prospects, high hopes. Greece, I think. Yet there it is now, sinking like a stone...

What it truly means to feel skeptical as "in doubt" of people or ideas I think every person alive knows. It is an intrinsic part of being human to have the feeling, that something is wrong, "off", a certain fact, an idea, maybe even a generally considered truth. Similar to a sense of foreboding - when you think something bad is about to happen - it can be quite overwhelming. 

That's why I'd like to define skepticism as a state of feeling, not being, because unlike the philosophical movement, it is not a product of thorough thought or opinion formation - no, feeling skeptical is typically what happens before that process starts, maybe even the foundation for it. Theoretically, you could remain in skepticism mode for a longer time period, but people usually don't. Same as with feelings of premonition, it is a state of mind that passes once the occasion, the trigger for it is gone.

A world pandemic is a substantial occasion for skepticism, because not only does the virus target our lives, the safety measures to contain it challenge our ways of living. And the truly agonizing part is, that we can't escape the situation, and the complete control it exerts on all of us.

Some say these feelings of lacking control are justified, others say, they are excessive, and a small price to pay for all our physical health. Whatever your position on it may be, the fact is, that at the moment, many people feel confined, trapped, and that feeling is real and needs to be taken seriously. 

Confinement usually starts when someone's personal freedom is in some way limited, controlled, watched over, even a public topic of discussion. "How to sneeze" is a new etiquette, same as not showing one's nose and mouth in confined spaces. "Not be too many" is a hard rule to follow, maybe the hardest. I think, this may be the one linked to skepticism the most.

I have a suspicion, that at its core, skepticism is a direct result of feeling confined. Societal normalcies like being close to each other, hugging or talking to someone while seeing their face are tumbling right now. People are afraid to stand too close, thus, we as a people, feel separated from our own tribe. But the tribe is our history, our existence, our everything. It has always been the solution, not the problem. It has been the most basic human need ever since we stepped out of the mud and decided to live on dry land. So, feeling skeptical, when our world is turned upside down, is a completely understandable reaction.

Too symbolic? Oh, well.

It may take crazy turns once we decide to "side" with Covidtruthers, ProCovidmeasurists or anyone, who, motivated by a feeling of skepticism, is loud and opinionated. These are not tribes we can rely on, but a mere "signaled" affiliation to some people we feel close to in our shared anxiety. And we feel the need to attach to someone, something, during this crisis. So what can we do?

I don't know. We need to try and get through it, somehow, and let the feeling run its course. Usually, what happens after skepticism is opinion formation. Let it be based on facts not fear. Don't let fear overrun your thoughts. This may sound simplistic, but you just tell your fears to shut up for a minute. "Shut up fears, while I check these facts." These fears will be much quieter, once you've collected your information.

Let me just say this: we belong to one tribe, all of us, even the loud obnoxious ones, who seem to be on the opposite side of what you feel is right. Don't let anyone or anything drive a wedge between you and someone else. We all share the same anxieties, we are all afraid. We all want to survive this, and there are no two sides to beating this virus. Let's just agree that separation is not the answer, neither to the virus, nor to the feelings we have concerning this matter.

And speaking of an enemy image: this virus is more than enough, so we really don't need any fights amongst ourselves. Let's just try and kick its ass instead. 

Home Is Where...

I'm in the business of arriving.

We bought a house and moved into our new place of residency two weeks ago. My boxes arrived before me, they came in a large truck while I drove up to the house with my kids and a couple of suitcases. It's good that we're all here now, finally. I know I'm supposed to be dancing. But in terms of being here, finding myself at this new place, I'm still on my way. It's a funny thing, when you leave behind an area that's trusted, well-known roads and short cuts and a house that is so familiar, you know every noise you're about to hear when someone from your family moves through adjacent rooms. 10 years is a long time. New house, new town, and it doesn't sound or smell familiar. It will someday, but it takes a lot of time. I think I need spring, yes, maybe that would be a great time to arrive, to meet everyone and shake a couple of hands. Right now I feel like I'm at the airport, waiting for my luggage to arrive. Everything's in boxes and I don't know where anything is. And my kids keep saying they want to go home. I can't argue with that. Home is a state of mind I haven't gotten around to just yet. I tell them and myself, that this is our home now. The other house is empty, another family will move in there shortly. We are here. They then nod, as though they'd understand, but I know that they don't. How can this be, their glances ask. The large truck came, it took all our belongings and it brought them here, I tell them. How can this be, I ask myself. And it's hurting a little to think that someone else will be living where we lived, invading our space. Yes, we moved. Yes, I am still moving.

Hoist The Freak Flag!

This thing that I'm about to tell you may sound extremely odd. OK, here goes. Lately, I have been worried about my freak flag. Let me explain what that means. A freak flag is a symbol for a person's level of weirdness. Everyone is a bit weird and, usually, a person's freakishness is visible to others by their flag. Brave people let them fly high up in the air. Like colorful birds, they tell the world that they are flamboyant, unique beings. The higher it goes, the farther you will see it. Hah, space even!

OK, so, in regards to my own freak flag: I think it has been in hiding ever since I had my first kid. Especially having a special needs child, I felt it was time to tuck it in. The thing is, I was afraid that people would link my boy's condition to me, and somehow look for an easy answer to why he is the way he is. I'd rather let them judge and diagnose him by an objective standard. Don't get me wrong, I think it's quite normal trying to figure out why a person is tuned a certain way, and looking at the parents for clues is one of the first things we do. Personalities vary though. My boy is odd. He's very unique. I am too. But while I'm quite shy and introverted, he's the opposite of that. Unlike him, never in a million years would you see me throwing a tantrum in public.

He's suspected of being on the verge of the autism spectrum, but, as things are progressing right now, it could still be a delay in his general development. There currently is no diagnosis that exactly fits his condition. Since most of his problems are centered around speech and social abilities, that area is where his oddity is most visible to others.

So in trying not to be at the center of blame, I made an effort to be less suspicious. I even got accustomed to talking to people. Yes, people. This may not sound like a big deal to the major part of the population, but it is to me. I'm not much of a conversationalist. Small talk makes my palms sweaty. Remembering names and faces and details to me is like playing Sudoku. Once I get it, and I know someone, I'm OK, but it's hard getting used to it. So, when my first kid was born, like all parents, I knew I had to let the world in a little. Talking to other parents, moms, professionals, doctors. And while I got a little bit of practice in doing so on a regular basis, I still feel uncomfortable at times. I think in trying to hide the freak flag, it has become even more elbowing. Because nothing is more odd to people than talking to someone who tries to hide a freak flag. It's like trying to hide a speech impairment by not talking. It's super freaking weird. And that's what I think has happened.

I should have known that overcompensating for my inner freak would not create "normal" behavior. Sometimes over-compensation works that way, with minor flaws it certainly does, but not with a whole personality. So in my quest to appear normal and together to the outside world, I forgot about my own well-being. I got a lot of stomach trouble. Now I want to go back to the old me, at least meet her halfway between crazy town and where I live now. That old me was a super creative, sensitive person who would look at her world through matted glass. I want to be her again. I am her. Freak flag, get out from under there. You're all sad and crinkled. Get up there. Fly.

To be continued!

My Kid's in Color

My kid is really strange. He's odd with words and people, and sometimes with his hands and feet. Watching him among others is watching him being in his own world. Most of the time, he doesn't even take note of the world around him. Nor does he seem to care. He doesn't participate in other children's play, and he doesn't get the rules they set up amongst themselves. To his own world, their rules have no meaning.

He walks across the blanket two girls spread out to have a picnic. He does that over and over. I think he likes the color, red and white, and the fact that there's squares on the fabric. And he likes the feeling of walking on it, because it's soft and he has no shoes on. That is all. In the meantime, the girls get furious. "Don't walk across that blanket anymore. How hard is it to understand, stupid?"

I can tell you now: it is very hard. Yes, my kid is stupid. He's not really noticing that he's upsetting the girls. But they, in turn, are also stupid. Because they're not getting how great it is, to just be walking barefoot across a blanket without thinking of anything but your feet. Without thinking of the rules of girls, the rules of having picnics in public, or properly socializing with people. I mean, seriously, how cool is it, to not care about anything besides what it feels like to walk across a blanket?

And how awesome is it, to just run around without a destination until your cheeks are all red, and you get so exhausted, you're barely able to breathe? How awesome is it, to be that weird? I can tell you, it is super crazy awesome! Because normal is boring, and normal is redundant, and throughout history, normal has been done to death. And while normal probably would be easier for me to handle and easier to explain to the outside world, I wouldn't want to have it any other way.

You see, I gave this boy some of my traits. I may be partially more aware of what's going on around me, but that doesn't mean I always agree with the demands of world. In fact, many a times, I do have some problems getting along with world.

I can feel your vibe, little boy. I see what you're all about. And if I were just a little bit braver, I'd be doing what you're doing. I'd be walking without my shoes, just walking and feeling the soft fabrics of my world.

For The Moment

I was talking to our pediatrician the other day, about how parents will do anything for the health and safety of their kids. They will drive thousands of hours to see the best doctors and do whatever it takes, and give their limbs and organs, if necessary. This conversation sparked a little stream of consciousness on the drive home. I was thinking about those moments, when kids are small babies, when, for the moment, all their needs are fulfilled and they just happily lie there in your arms and doze off, while you, as a parent, can't help but think about all the things yet to come.

Autism And Other Minor Concerns

As human beings we worry a lot. We don't seem to ever stop. We worry about our health, our safety, money, sometimes even stupider stuff, like which car to drive in our thirties, which meals to eat on a Sunday. If a burglar may kill us in our sleep, or if cancer will do the job during the light of day.

As parents, we worry about our kids, if they get enough sleep, if they eat enough of everything, if their poop's consistency is to our liking, if they experience enough of anything. These are somewhat understandable parental worries.

So, I, newly a mother of two, have been asking myself: am I doing a good job mother-wise. It's highly questionable, I will ever get an answer other than the one I can provide myself. Something scary has been going on, and it has been going on for quite a while. We have been concerned about our son's speech development for a few months. It hasn't progressed normally, even along the normal parameters for boys (expected to being slower than girls), he is far behind. At two years, kids should be able to produce 50 to 200 words, they should be able to understand up to 400 words. Plus they should be able to do such things as look a person in the eye, and, not resort to screaming when having to perform certain tasks asked to do by other persons than the immediate family.

Well, you, what can I say. Our boy didn't do well in any of said tasks. Until recently, he didn't say a single word, he didn't interact socially with people outside the family, and he didn't perform to the pediatrician's satisfaction. The result of this was an under-average performance in the developmental test, and the pediatrician telling me that judging by his behavior, my son may be in the autism spectrum. All I could say was, yes, well, OK. I didn't add the classic retort "That is yoooour opinion!" and "I'll get another opinion, you!" . No, I didn't. My reflexes were a bit off that day.

I tried to find flaws in their test, the whole setup. I couldn't. It is a standardized test, with the same conditions for everyone, so the results are representative for his age group. I then alleged a conspiracy. Doctors being greedy money makers who want to sell you stuff and services. Maybe they are. Still, they couldn't sell you anything if there wasn't a kid in need of those services.

I was next in line. It's me. Too much iPad, too little parenting. We jokingly call the iPad parental unit c in this house, just to give you a little grasp of its importance. So, it had to be me. Either something I did wrong or something my crummy genes did wrong to cause that in my boy. As it turns out, my genes are rather likely to cause that kind of disorder. Not gluten or the iPad. At least I think they don't. As it turns out we know so little about autism, or the brain in general, that there's plenty of room for all kinds of crazy theories.

"If he has it, it's all my fault, OK?" hubby said to me, while we were driving in the car. Hubby's so sweet. "I mean look at me, the way I am." Awww, my sweet little Asperger! I replied that we're both a couple of odd people with some variance of social strangeness. So in my mind, it has to be a rather explosive coming together of crummy genes. Romantic, if you think about it. We combined our flawed gene pools and what came out was an even bigger water, a big muddy sea of crummyness. Awwww!

And that changed my perspective. Yes, we're both old and horrible but we created something genuinely unique. Not saying that special always means good or easy. But no matter how this turns out, if it really is autism, some other disease or nothing at all, our boy is extraordinary, the way his brain is clocked, the way he sees and assesses objects, people, concepts. I like to watch him watch the world and it's fascinating and endearing. And that is something to be happy about rather than sad or worried. He'll be an interesting human being no matter how this plays out. It won't always be easy for him to find his place in the world. But in this world, there should be a place for interesting, off-beat, difficult and lovable.

Are We Judgmental Bitches?

I read a post on Facebook a little while ago, about a young woman who had made the conscious decision not to have any children. I think she used the word never with some exclamation points. She wrote that afterwards she got a lot of headwind for openly refusing a life with children, and a backlash was sparked amongst mothers who allegedly have a big problem with that. She continued to appeal to the rules of a civilized and equal society, to let her do what she wants and just leave her be.

A reasonable request. I found myself wondering however to what extent the societal pressure she was talking about is an issue, if though a perceived reality it may be. Is it really other people, who make her feel badly about this decision, and by extension, is it even possible for other people to make us feel anything along the lines of doubt and insecurity?

First of all it seems to be pretty demure to not want something as a life choice. It's the opposite of needing stuff to exist. Some people think they need a Porsche to survive. In case of anything materialistic, usually people go for it or they don't, depending on the effort they are willing to put in. Either way in my experience, people generally don't really care about other people's harbored ambitions or even openly voiced desires.

We may take notice when you have something that we don't have, be jealous, or decide we want it too, but that's a different story. Most of the time, other people's aspirations don't even register - we're all much too concerned with what we want anyway.

Yes, sometimes mothers, parents, will appear judgmental, mostly in comparing their own parental style which they claim to find flawless, to other, allegedly inferior styles of parenting. This is what I think it's really about: being defensive about our own shit. Attacking not to be attacked.

I don't believe there's a single mother on planet Earth who thinks she's perfect. You may have days, moments, when you think, man, I'm great, I got this whole thing figured out, but the next minute you find your kid sitting in the corner, suckling on a beat-up cat toy and you think to yourself: damn, I'm raising a monkey. Stop licking the wall, Bingo.

Anyways, so what I think it comes down to is that parents are not in the business of judging anyone for refusing the whole child experience. We may think you're missing out on something big. Because we think it's pretty big. Parents don't know what they're missing out on by having children. Adventure, travel, the great escape? Just a wild guess. Childless people don't know what they're missing out on by not having them. There is no grounds for either of us to judge here.

Be that as it may, the declaration to adhere to a certain lifestyle, any lifestyle, for the rest of your life just isn't very reasonable. How often have you thought, OK, this is it, I'm settled, this is me. Life usually doesn't work on our terms. In case something completely surprising happens, and chances are that it will, our cores may be shaken, personalities will be disheveled and everything we thought we knew will be turned upside down.

So when it comes to life, there may be no other way than to stay flexible. It seems like a bad idea to close your mind to anything, even ideas that may seem bad or plain wrong at the time. They may appear more convenient a minute from now, or when things happen and you have to deal with the altered reality in front of you. Most of the time stuff happens despite our grand proclamations. And in a moment of crisis and change, we will find out we can deal with pretty much anything, and tackle things that are very different from our current agenda, our own prejudice, and yes, even those pesky children may add something to your life you never even imagined you'd love so much. Same goes for everything else of course. New doors open. It's out of our control when they do. And that's the terrifying and fantastic thing about life.

Activism Part IV

I now find it ridiculous, stupid, useless, even dangerous. Activism that is, --activism as in promote, impede, direct. As you may remember, I was quarreling with the whole concept of Activism through Parts ->I to ->III, trying to find the right angle to it, and dealing with people bustling around me. Now I don't anymore. This parental unit is proudly sitting on the couch, two cheeks fast asleep. Lazy. Still useful to some extent, but not in a world-changing manner, more in a "I'm watching you" kind of way. I'm eating while I write this. That's how useful I am. Sitting. Eating. Writing. Wow, that is some world-class multitasking, my friends!



Sometimes I think about what would happen if I weren't able to pay my bills - I imagine scenarios that result in me being in the gutter, and what I would do, that kind of thing. I consider that the everyday worries of human beings. DNA-wise, there's not much difference between a homeless person and Taylor Swift, besides varying degrees of busybodyness. I wouldn't call thinking about social decline as being stricken with sorrow, since those are concerns that move around aimlessly in (I'm guessing) everyone's head.

But now there's the extravagant stuff. Stuff, humans care about and put it in big letters on the magnet board next to the fridge, because those things presumably define them as a person, most of all a social media person of interest. Hah, and aren't those some wonderfully abstract things to worry about: climate change, pollution, sustainability, which by the way has quickly turned into my number one rage word. Things, world, possibly all that exists needs to endure. Because we want it to. Why does it always have to be so exotic?



I find that people are on a mission of self-denial. They're thinking big and I find that disturbing. Why can't you start small, damnit? It is quite arrogant to want to save a whole planet. What kind of a narcissistic ass starts with the big one? Don't you work your way up towards the big dreams anymore? Go clean up your room, do your taxes, whatever, and if you're still thinking big, why not try not to die of cancer next? That's pretty big, too. That should be a main concern on your way to saving everything. If the whole Lemmy-Bowie-Rickman incident has taught us anything, it is that our number one concern should be our immediate survival. Not on a large scale, but on a very small, singular scale. Don't die, you! Everyone's ass is on the line here, so please make yourself sustainable. The world may not need you, but you need you. What else is there to worry about?

Among Mad People

Humans are a mad species. Mad in the sense that they are crazy, like mad scientists, Mad Max and MAD magazine. Every one of those mads describes one aspect of being human. Insane, post-apocalyptically distraught and nuts. But in terms of "being angry" we are even madder than mad. We always did have the capacity to get really really furious at stuff. Broken TV - damn you!! - slow driving people holding up the lane - you idiot! Our "mad" is a blow out, a detonation, like a thunderstorm, quick and painless.

These days, everyone is able to witness everyone else's madity (don't be mad it's not a word) on social networks, and our angriness has become an everyday condition. The madder - the better. The madder - the more we care. Like mad magicians we're in the business of abstractly spreading unfocused anger bolts at the world. And if you're not sharing those sentiments and hop the anger train, you're accused of either being a placidly naive lamb, on their side or you just don't give a damn. So, it's easiest to follow the invitation to be outraged. There's something going on every day. Nestlé, Homophobia, Amnesty, Hunting, Religion, Health, TV shows, Summer. And that was just in one week.

The good thing: we're not bearing grudges it seems. Maybe we have evolved to be a more forgiving species. No more feuds? Giggles, no. More likely that with this large a variety of annoyances to pick from, we forget what we were mad about yesterday.

Why I care? The abundance of red flags everywhere made me lose the will to rant. And that makes me really really mad. But seriously, in all this time being spent angrily, the ability to be critical, to go look for information beyond the bias we seem to lack. We think we're more enlightened than we actually are. There is so much information. We just don't take the time to get it. All of it. Too busy being mad.

Go play with your kind, Kitty!

In life, most things we do are pretty much self-explanatory. We are born, we go to school, we work. Eventually we get married, have kids, and some time after that we die. Somewhat anticlimactic, I agree. Yes, but there are certain challenges to encounter and our bookstore's self-help section to deal with things that are slightly out of our reach. How to get that job (that we're not qualified for) or how to get a partner (we don't deserve). And those books contain more or less fishy techniques to justify our desire for social climbing. As primates, we always want the biggest piece of cake, and as humans we're convinced outwitting instinct must be the way to go. But all in all we'd probably be appalled if we knew how much of our decision-making in life is driven by pure instinct rather than calm consideration. I can hardly tell why I do certain things, and why I don't do certain others, but I get the distinct feeling the reason must be found somewhere on the opposite end of "free will". Is it "right" though to live like that? I don't know. It certainly feels right, but that doesn't have to mean anything in the grand scheme of things.

Well, I don't have any point of reference here, since I know no other way of existing than my very own. But I imagine, since we're all human those must be similar, with survival being the most elbowing instinct of them all. The fear for survival can take many different forms and sizes, mostly ugly ones. Actively killing our kin for food, luckily not so much a commonplace in the Western world anymore. But since we all own a lot of shit and feel like we've accomplished something, passively fearing for one's place in society is much more prevalent these days. Racism being the operative word to name that fear. Yet we always seem to be surprised by news of racism, riots, police brutality or the sad German trend to burn down refugee hostels. Well we shouldn't be. We shouldn't be surprised. It's the oldest fear there is. It may even predate spiders and heights. The fear of losing cultural identity, belongings or jobs is a natural part of existing within a community of diverse beings. Just because it's there doesn't mean we can't do anything to counteract that fear. We should and we do. The fear itself has to do with a lack of information (or wrong sources of information) rather than stupidity. Just so you know you're not immune, all you smartie pants! Information is a good way to work against that, most of all some form of political education, so we may understand the source and reality of such fears. How are those foreigners stealing our jobs again? Oh righto, they don't. Of course, the media are an untrustworthy companion in this endeavor, being deeply afraid for their own survival, they play into the hands of our fears like a horror movie plays into the pants of small children. But there's other ways of enlightenment.

We are afraid, and that's a fact. No point in complaining about it. And the country that came up with Nazis should know better than to ignore those tendencies or feel like we have means to control them. Fears can't be controlled by an intellectual elite. And what a horrifying concept that would be..
That being said, now what do we do about these fears?

For his first birthday, someone gave my son a book about a cat looking for playmates. The cat asks dogs, ducks, pigs to play with her, and they all refuse due to the cat's lack of dog-like, duck-like and pig-like qualities. So in the end the cat finds other cats to play with. D'oh! The moral of this story? Happiness found with your own kind? I'd say the moral is being aware that the concept of racism is omnipresent, validated like that, through allegedly harmless story patterns.

"Go play with your kind."

There's Spiders on the Interwebs

I had a blog on the interwebs at the foot of the Ngong Hills...well, duh. I still have a blog, though deserted at daytime, I'm always close by at night, never far from putting down thoughts in writing. And I seriously realize I need to do some spring blog cleaning before spring turns into summer, and summer makes me want to do everything but clean, even on and between those dusty interwebs.

So, how have you been doing lately - she asks - casually. Are you OK? Have you been shaken by the various crises of this earth or did you just stop caring? I mean, seriously. Horrific news, every day. We are being sold, our private lives being spied upon, our data being inflationary goods for intelligence worker drones and the nations that employ them. They doodle on our love letters, and draw funny faces on our porn collection. The guy with the mustache got an even bigger mustache. Funny stuff. They rated our naked holiday pictures from 1 to 10. If there has ever been a moment to uprise, that moment is here, staring us in the face. Unfortunately, we let it pass. We just shake our heads in disagreement if we're not too busy having insignificant thoughts about nothing. We're all fresh out of disappointmental energy. And anger is that much harder to come by. We feel as though we're the smallest link in the celestial alignment of our existence. We're just too damn unimportant. I have to ask this of me, of everyone: are we? Are we the insignificant ant in this equation? Let's see: human - check. All limbs and brains intact - check. Human Rights being beaten with a stick - ding ding ding, jackpot! Hey there, you with the sad eyes, we do have some power. Confidence, please. We have all the power. It's not us and them. It's only us, and we control what we do. This idea of big nobs separate from us, it is an illusion.

You could hold the view that we had it coming. We got lazy, we let things run into the ground. But I'd like to think there is a slight ticking noise going on in the background, and it gets a little louder every day. At some point, there'll be an explosion. It's what happens when people are undermined, cornered. People and wolves. It's what needs to happen, so we can be free for a while. Until the next election, take-over takes place, coup, whatever you want to call it. Because wolves will remain wolves, and the balance between freedom and security will always be fragile and fleeting. And nature will catch up with itself eventually.

What To Expect When You're Not Expecting

I can't say that I ever officially decided to have children - I as in my conscious decision-making self making a choice. I was quite unsure until my thirties if it would be a good idea for me at all. I presume what happened after the glorious age of 30 was that my primate brain did something to me. The cliché of the loud ticking noise, I suddenly began to hear it. First unobtrusively, then, all the time. The tinnitus I got from this must have smashed the insubordinate parts of my brain, the ones that used to yawn whenever I got the feeling I had to do something or to be a part of something, to fit some kind of stereotype. I never exactly knew how to behave around children. I was not relaxed being around them, still am not, at times. Yet it happened one day, when I saw a mother lovingly with her child in her arms, that I noticeably gasped for air. It felt liked suffocation. I wouldn't define the feeling as wanting something. I realized I didn't as much want one, as I needed a child. For my sanity. For my primate brain. This post is not a guide. This is about how I tried to remain sane during the long years of not having one, but needing a child, and badly so. In hindsight, I merely partially succeeded.


Let me think. No. Let's say you've already found out you want a child and you're working hard towards that goal. You've tried for a while and it didn't work out. Or maybe it worked, but then it didn't. What do you do to pass the time until it does? I've had three strikes in five years. Unfortunately none of them made it through the first trimester. Starting fresh after a miscarriage was hard each time. You're losing confidence in your body. You're getting super obsessive about every little circumstance that may or may not be responsible for you not getting pregnant. First of all, you have to accept, that certain things are simply out of your hands. Think positive if you can muster up the strength, but if you can't, don't feel bad for being angry. It is frustrating. It makes you crazy. Babies is probably all you can think about. If all you can think about is what you can't have, that is one very sad mental spiral to be in. It may seem as far out of reach to you as sitting on a rusty bike and dreaming about a Porsche. And then again, it may just be around the corner. Your body is torturous. Biology is a bitch. You know.

<< Don't put your life on hold This is important. You can't stop everything else, because you want a child. If you live as though you were pregnant to become pregnant, you're not doing yourself any favors. Eating raw fish, cheese, or drinking coffee or a glass of wine, lifting stuff, it's all allowed. Yes, you may blame yourself if it doesn't work out at the end of a cycle. You will do that no matter what you do, what you eat, if you did or didn't do sports, if you ate or didn't eat certain foods. I wrecked my brain each time I miscarried or didn't conceive for what I might have done wrong. The list is incredibly long when you're looking for something that can't be found. It's not that third cup of coffee. The most likely thing is that it didn't work out for a myriad of reasons. None of them are in your control. Nothing you do will guarantee the right circumstances. What did I do right when it finally happened? Nothing. Everything. I ate whatever I craved for, chocolate, mainly. I drank lots of coffee. I was too lazy to work out, and around conception time, I read a really boring fantasy book. Find the answer anywhere in there? If there is one, it says, try to mentally detach yourself from the biology behind getting pregnant. You can't finetune the incubator. Trust it, for it knows best.


<< Create your own voodoo You feel like you need to do something. Yes. Doing something seems to put people in an exceptionally positive mood. Treat your body like a temple. Imagine you're a fertile riverbed or whatever. Be aware that voodoo is voodoo. There is no medicinal value in dancing around a totem pole except the one you create in your head - placebo the hell out of it! Your state of mind is important. Placebo is your friend. Go massage your stomach with your left hand. Bath in mud. Stick needles in your chi, feng shui your bedroom. It's all good and healthy as long as it makes you feel good and there is no real chemistry involved. Stay away from strong substances. Let the doctors handle strong substances. You go to your happy place and relax.


<< Be aware of hormones There's one tiny little piece of chemistry you need to be aware of: progesterone. Especially if you have passed the presumably best childbearing age of 20. Progesterone can have influence on the actual occurrence and continuation of a pregnancy. If you're having trouble conceiving or sustaining a pregnancy over a period of time, go see a doctor. Let them monitor progesterone and hormone levels throughout your trial runs. It will help you figure out a possible deficiency and help you fix it. I took progesterone during my last (successful) trial. It may have helped. I took it some time earlier that year and it didn't. No guarantees, but chances are, it will more likely help than hurt your efforts.


<< Don't be mean to your partner (unless he or she is responsible - then, go ahead and nag him or her endlessly about it) Kidding, of course! It's so hard to stay rational. I've tried to explain this to men several times. Being theoretically able to father children until they drop, they don't seem to fully grasp the pressure-filled window we're in. It can put a serious strain on relationships when fertility is an issue. Fertility. Even the word sounds discriminatory. Whatever you do, try to hold on to the big picture. Testicles are not baby juice jars. A man is not just a donor, a woman is not an oven. Don't reduce people to their baby-making qualities. I know it sounds like a d'oh sort of thing to say, but it can be hard when you're on emotional edge. What you should think and talk about are possible consequences. Talk much. You need to be able to talk about your options. How much do you want children? More than you want to be with your partner? Think about it, and without being resentful or fearful, just play it through in your mind. Can you imagine alternative scenarios? Then think about it some more. The important and excruciating part is to not guilt your partner into staying the childless course if the problem is on your end. It's scary to think that way, but you need to do it for the sake of your relationship.


<< Cuddle your inner child

Be kind to yourself. You're of worth, you are or were at some point someone's child. What you do and how you feel is important. Find an outlet for your frustration. Do things you want to do, things you know you couldn't do with a child. Travel the world, take that crazy job offer in Helsinki. We're all just finding ways to pass the time. Having a child means passing over time to someone else entirely. You will stay the center of your own life if you don't have a child. There's an upside to that way of existing. People say that having children is the most important thing in life. I know it has changed a whole lot for me, and opened my eyes to another perspective entirely. I have never felt such love for anyone or anything in the world. It's unbearable at times. But in a larger sense, it's not that important for the world if I do or do not have children, at least not as much as it is for myself. I find that caring for someone, for a partner or a pet can do that also. My cats were my babies long before I knew my son. It doesn't matter that they never needed me as much as he does at the moment. Cats are self-sufficient beings. My son will be self-sufficient as well at some point. The transition will be painful, but I care for them either way. Cleaning the cat toilet or cleaning a diaper. One's a little less messy than the other, but in the end, it's all coming out of the same area. Poop, everywhere! Doesn't matter whose. It's all love. Good old sappy love.

Activism, Part III

Dealing with problems in life, instead of climbing mountains wouldn't we all have more fun walking around them? In case you're wondering, today, this is not furious, but lazy old me speaking, the one who likes to occasionally complain about stuff, but doesn't actually leave the house when people are rallying round the flag. This is quite the departure for me. I don't know if you read my posts Activism, Part I and Part II. I still admire anyone who sets out to change the world. Sometimes though admiration turns into pity. And that's when you know you're old, and no longer a part of the solution. Eventually everyone stops trying to change the world, because life is too short to place it on hold.

I have to quote myself here. This is an excerpt from Activism, Part II, dated roughly one year ago:

Everyone knows that the way wealth is distributed amongst people is far from fair. Our personal financial state doesn't necessarily represent the things we earn, even less deserve. There is some obscene prosperity accumulated by a privileged few, in many places all over the world. In the USA, the top 20% of Americans owned 85% of the country's wealth and the bottom 80% of the population owned 15% (year 2007, source Congressional Budget Office). How does that not scream revolt in loud and bloody letters? How does that not make you want to kick in some doors?

The facts are still true. And while I understand the reasoning behind the propensity to outrage, nowadays I just as well relate to phlegm. Most of us start out as hyperactive fetuses, foolishly fighting an unjust system. Later on, we realize, there is no gain in fighting a set of rules that by default will make a few people very very rich. That's when some of us turn to the dark side, and decide to outsmart the system rather than abolishing it. How about doing what the rich do, if only to prove a point. That's what a society of hairy primate grabbing hands does to us...

And at a certain point then, BAM! Greed suddenly turns into a perfectly reasonable moral position. Because the innate feeling - the world is horrible I better look out for myself - comes so natural to us. Once that justification makes perfect sense to you, it's all over with you and "world" in terms of solidarity. Look at what happened to Walter White in Breaking Bad. Yes, he's a fictional character, but in terms of moral intentions, reality set the parameters for the narrative.

The powers that be keep us down and we buy into what they tell us. We'd rather believe that the rich worked long and hard for what they have. That they started from nothing, same as we did. That we, if we work long and hard, can be one of them some day. It's all a big bag of lies. They had a head start in being born with some privileges. They may have worked hard, and cheated even harder, but they didn't tell you about the selling of soul which has to be done as well. That's were the real money is buried. Because they have long passed "being wealthy" now, since it's all about being filthy rich. They know how to get it. They know where to take it, and who to take it from. And hide it. Another bonus this year, just for being 'you'! Congrats!

In hindsight it does sound childish of me to complain about the rules of Monopoly. It's an old game. Although we can't seem to change the rules, we can all choose to play another game anytime we want. There is checkers, there is parcheesi and rock-paper-scissors. Unfortunately we all want to win at the game with the big cash prize. The most important reason why we play is the jackpot filled with security. Or whatever you want to call the placebo feelgood thingy. Strong concept. Empty word.

We need to reach a certain point to realize that there is no life credit, no such a thing as security for any of us. I don't want to sound all grinch-y, but world economy, and ultimately personal health, these are the ones to spoil the game for all of us amateur gamblers. Those suckers don't care what the pool is, to them we're the stakes. And the steaks.

There is only one solution. Stop playing. Cut the ties to security. It's an illusion anyways. Be a proud owner of nothing but your bare existence. That's the thing that counts for all of us equally.

Problem is that if you're like me, and you enjoy the comfort of a roof over your head, warm water and food other than the one you find in a dumpster, you'll be having a hard time with that kind of resolve. I like my life. The idea of having less than I have now terrifies me. And much to my embarrassment, yes, there is still a part of me that wants to kill a queen to become one myself...

This makes me sick. So sick, in fact, I think vomiting could become a chronic problem for me. I proved myself wrong. There is some use in activism. I just don't think judging the guy next to us for his lifestyle choices is where it should begin - or end. We should take out the ones that cause the real damage. Let's go now, you take the banner, I'll get the axe. Let's head out and make a statement, red on white.

Activism, Part I

We are getting old and we are void of problems. We sail on smooth sines and cosines towards the bright light. How do we pass the time until we make our last exit? Most of us fuss with growing up, paying the bills, finding ourselves and a partner, having kids. According to the laws of nature and society, that's what has to be done.

The old Witch Procrastinia on the other hand says, we should hang out and relax more, enjoy ourselves, let arms and legs dangle from a giant beach chair while having a sip of Woo Woo. Yes, we may do that. In fact, we are doing that. Unfortunately, it's not enough, it's never enough to only do that. We need to get out of that chair and do something productive.

Bear with me, this is going somewhere.

We have to get up. Take a look through the spy-glass. Then complain. That's what we do and do best. Complain. There are people and they are doing things wrong. They are not living life according to plan. Maybe we can see someone who doesn't care about the environment. He drives two cars, sometimes three. He buys airplane seats, like others do tickets for the merry-go-round. Just because he can. He is one decadent human being. Eating meat with a side of meat, tossing back inorganic wine with a tea cup. One iPad for every room, maybe two. Electricity bills must be skyrocketing with this guy. Does he not care that nuclear power is irresponsible these days? He sure does have the money to run his own hydroelectric plant. Why doesn't he switch? Why does he not care that he ruins this planet?

Let me tell you what is wrong with us people. We judge others, constantly. How they live life, assuming, that we know how to live it - and they don't. We are all guilty of it, it's a human crime. Why would we have a better idea than any other person on how to live life? Why would our expertise count more? We are the same self-absorbed apeheads as they are, and we know exactly as much as they do.

It's fine that you don't eat meat, do not smoke or the thought of genetically modified food makes you sick. Don't do it then, don't eat and inhale. But leave other people out of the equation. It's their right to do what ever they want. It's their right to not get sick by all these things. They don't have to answer to you. You are the ones to make a political statement here, not them. Feel free to not do all the things you don't want to do. By all means, I'm not stopping you. Why are you trying to stop me?