Crowded Gym

Today is the first of 2026. Twenty-Five (definitely not sure about that hyphenation or capitalization) was certainly the hardest of my life. Well, maybe 24 and 25 together take that award. I got really sick. A very mild Covid infection led to a few months of POTS symptoms. I felt fine, but I'd get super lightheaded if I bent over to pick something up. Standing up for long periods of time started to make me sweat. The dizziness eventually went away, but standing up got harder and harder. That transformed into pretty atrocious fatigue. If my body used to be a minivan that got 20 miles to the gallon, all the sudden I was a wheelbarrow that was getting three to the gallon. And the rate at which my tank filled back up was incredibly slow. Things that used to be trivial were suddenly far beyond the realm of possibility. 

Dealing with unexpected disability was not something I was prepared to do. I'd seen my wife get sick and gradually stop being able to contribute to the household a few years earlier. That was difficult, but it felt very natural for me to pick up the slack, make adjustments, and lower my expectations. When I got sick everything I'd always been able to depend on went away. Suddenly I couldn't push through difficult things anymore. There were a lot of nights where I completely ran out of steam. I'd start to walk very slowly and jankily. If anyone talked to me my brain would take a long time to parse what they said. I was desperately broken during those times. I'd try to hide from the wife and kids-- somewhere dark where I could lie down and cry by myself. I'd cry because I knew I couldn't take care of these people. I knew my kids would come in and need me to get them a cup of milk, and I knew that I couldn't possibly get off that bed. Those were dark times. In those hours when my body was more exhausted and broken than I had ever experienced, I wanted to die. It made me so very sad to consider my kids growing up with a dead dad. I wept and wept considering that. It didn't make me want to die any less, but it did make me very sad. 

My body would, after a few hours of quietly doing absolutely nothing in a dark room, eventually feel good enough to drag myself to my computer and play a game of Dota. I could log on and play a mentally demanding game that didn't require any body movement except mouse and keyboard. It takes no time at all for my brain to get completely focused on the game. During the 40 minutes or so a match takes, the very sad chemicals inside my body would eventually fade and be replaced by something else. There's something to be said about escaping your problems temporarily until the desire to off yourself fades. 

I lost my job halfway through 2024. Technically I quit. Ha. I was just so sick. I couldn't possibly work the hours I needed to. Heck, I stopped being able to tolerate code reviews because I was just so dang depleted. Mustering the emotional fortitude to tell some Gen Z recent grad why I was correct about the thing I was obviously correct about became too much. I thought that after a few months of rest that I'd be able to jump right back into a job. Maybe I was burnt out? Maybe I hated my job? Maybe I just needed more sleep. 

Nah, it was Long Covid, obviously. I can't confirm that I didn't hate my job ;) And I almost certainly was burnt out. Neither of those things could explain the depth of my fatigue. Apparently I won the genetic / environmental / unlucky lottery that left my body fucking screwed up for no discernible reason. It felt unfair for a long time. Still does, tbh. I'm so much better at managing my body now. I've improved somewhat. Like, maybe substantially. But probably more than that I've learned to give shit up that I can't afford to do anymore. I have an energy budget that I'm pretty familiar with finally. I know when to bail out and take a nap during the day. My kids and wife are getting better at getting their needs met while I have energy. We eat a lot of McDonalds-- standing up to cook isn't usually something I can afford to do. 

I spent 16 months unemployed. I spent the first six months resting. The market took a crap and there weren't a lot of jobs once I finally started looking. I ended up landing a lot of good interviews, and got really close with a few fintech companies here in Austin. One of them (Wise) almost definitely passed on hiring me because they found out I was sick. Hahaha, those fetchers. I sent an embarrassing email telling them I'd work for free for a few weeks to show them they were making a mistake. I was desperate. They said no, of course. 

Apparently I used to have a lot of money? I didn't really know that at the time. I received a good amount of stock when I worked at Google, and I had been holding on to most of it from the last two years I was there. That sustained us for a long time. Then we received some early inheritance from my very good father in law. And then we lived on credit cards, because that was the money I had available to me. 

Being poor is weird. Do I have enough credit left to fill up the car with gas? Which bills can I ignore for a little longer? I hadn't experienced that as an adult before. I wouldn't recommend it. Waking up with uncertainty of how you were going to keep this boat afloat isn't super fun. 

I landed a job! A really good one. Honestly, over the previous twelve months I had experienced enough interviews to finally be good at it. System Design interviews had kicked my butt enough times that I finally figured them out. That's really all it was. Failing enough times, diving in and figuring out how to answer the question that they had asked me, and then prepping for the next interview. I was finally good at it, and I landed a job because of it. I started in November. I've had it for two months now. I like having a job. I really like this job. It's pretty perfect for me. Two thumbs way up.

Knowing how much money I'm going to make, and on what day it will land in the bank account, is a cold glass of water after a terribly hot day. We're still like, maxed, on those credit cards. It will take us a long time to dig out. But we'll be able to! Easy peasy tbh. We'll make it. Assuming I keep this job (which I will), assuming I can maintain this level of health (which I'm working really hard to do). 

On that note, I need to go to bed. I'm freakin' wide awake. But I have work tomorrow. So now it's off to melatonin land so I can wake up and head to the code mines. gl hf, thanks for reading noobs. 

Idaho

 You ever just feel like the only way to understand your own feelings is to write them down? I've got this theory growing inside my head. The idea is that my working memory (RAM, if you will) is super duper small. So trying to figure something out about my own feelings or plans quickly overwhelms it. Or, rather, I'm able to figure it out, but it's overwritten or lost really quickly. If I really want to understand myself or figure something out I have to write it down. I can move my thoughts from RAM to a more stable medium, and this allows me to handle much larger problems. 

Even though I have a good brain, it has its limitations. I am _so much_ more effective if I have a pen and paper in front of me. I do prefer paper to digital, to be honest. Even though I type so much faster than I write, I find the freedom that comes from paper to be very powerful. When I type I have to move in exactly one direction (to the right, blech) and occasionally downward. When I'm on paper, shoot, I can move in any direction at any time. That's where the money is.

I'm in Idaho at the in-laws. I love it here. I have lots of happy memories here. It's good to be with good people. It's good to show my kids this big part of themselves. It's nice to support the wife and help her feel this place again. 

I wouldn't say that I'm happy. I'm depressed, of course. I have depression, just like always. I heard about an old person that has depression who, suddenly, went into depression remission. That sounds nice. I don't really think that's going to happen for me. Here's the rub: I believe there's a lot more therapy I could do. I'm not convinced that I can improve pharmaceutically-- what I'm on is strictly fine, and I've already tried a number of other things. This is decent and I just don't think there's much more for me there. But I could likely dig deep and do a crap ton more therapy. That feels like a ton of discomfort. And it also feels impossible to find. The last two times I've looked for therapy I got run-of-the-mill CBT. That's Cognitive Behavioral Therapy for y'all following along at home. And CBT is actually pretty decent, but I don't really want to do it again. The wife has done some really cool work healing some of her past trauma. It has become apparent to me that I've got some past bullcrap to work through, but, blech, I really don't want to. 

I think it's because it sorta represents a threat to my current existence. Not my existence, really, but more like my life as it is now. A lot of wife's work on this has been about accepting the previous "parts" of yourself and giving those parts what they need. The idea is that when you experience hard things (trauma, if you will), you sometimes exile the part of you that experienced that trauma. You kinda push that part of you into a closet (probably not that kind of closet) and move forward without it. And apparently that's not super helpful. 

So I guess the idea here is that I'd have to accept this part of me that I exiled long ago and be kind to current me and ye-olde-exiled-former-Chris. That feels like a lot of work. And I just don't want to open that stupid can of worms. There's a pretty good chance I ought to. Maybe this is me starting to accept that. Probably. 

See, like I said: writing. Helps me get stuff out. Helps me get places I wouldn't get otherwise. 

It's tricky because I sorta need to be perceived. Like this wouldn't work if I wrote it in some private doc. I'd get some benefit, sure, but for whatever reason this stuff works best for me if I write this on my public blog. Granted, this blog is _never_ read (except for you, Nate Cunningham! How are y'all, btw?) but it still helps. It's difficult because I want to share personal crap-- I sort of need that. But this is also a public post, so it behooves me to not admit to any federal crimes (that's clearly a joke you monsters). 

Did you know I have ADHD? Yeah, I got diagnosed a year or so ago. Big relief honestly. Medication has really helped with work. Explains a lot of my behavior. Do you remember how I frequently overuse parenthetical messages when I write? It's because I'm trying to send multiple streams of information in the same channel at the same time. It's a clear ADHD thing. Ha.

Okay listen, it's 11:20 and I'm incredibly tired. I'm going to go to bed. I hope that I keep writing. It's pretty good for me. 

VJ3

 Hey, good news, my test came back negative. And, for what it's worth, I'm feeling much better today than yesterday. Here's to us continuing to improve.

CVJ2

 Slept in my bed last night :) After the shower and writing up here in the office I was able to go down and sleep fine. I couldn't use the CPAP- I think that may have been what aggravated my grumpy breathing in the first place. But slept fine and woke up breathing well. Much less uncomfortable this morning.

Very tired, not a lot of energy, and feverish. Kate and I are taking turns napping while the other watches the kids. As expected, her symptoms are following mine by a day so today is a bit rough for her. 

I tried to work for ~30 minutes today and that was a disaster. Just don't have it in me. I slept through my one-on-one with my manager this morning. My work performance has been a garbage fire. I know I'm officially allowed to take time off when I'm sick. But it feels rough. 

Anyways, wanted to drop a quick update to declare that I'm doing better than last night. Not sure what tonight will hold, but should be tons of fun. 

Covid Journal 1

 Hey. Let's get down to it.

Last Friday (Sep. 18, 2020) My four-year-old had a crap ton of snot coming out of his nose at the beach. He was coughing a tiny bit, but nothing to be concerned about. He has allergies, and we were staying in a moderately dusty hotel, so we weren't super concerned. 

Anyways he's doing great now :) But I'm sick and having a hard time breathing. I'm in my upstairs bathroom right now running a very hot shower as I sit on the (closed) toilet. The warm moisture is helping my breathing, which is neat. 

I had a very tiny sore throat and headaches on Saturday. Sunday was a little more sore, and Monday started having a small cough with lots of sinus pressure. Today has been accelerating tight-upper-chest coughing. I was doing fine-- even fell asleep with my CPAP machine around 8pm. After the nap, I tried to sleep again at 1am and couldn't breathe well enough. So now I'm doing this whole humidity thing and then I'm going to try to sleep on the ancient recliner. 

I got tested for Covid today. I should hear back Thursday or Friday. Not that it matters, right? I've got some sort of virus, my whole family is exposed to it, and it's sorta hard to breathe. The official diagnosis doesn't really change much. It's not like they can treat it differently once they know what it is.

I don't feel great. I'm worried. Earlier today I was grumpy that I probably had Covid, but pretty confident that we'd be fine. We're young, healthy-ish (screw you diabetes...), and the vast majority of people that contract the virus in my age group are right as rain pretty quick. 

That's still the likely outcome. I didn't expect things to deteriorate so quickly though. I've never had this much trouble breathing in my life. I'm okay and not at the "lets' go to the hospital" stage of discomfort. I'm hoping that tomorrow gets better and not worse. 

So what happens if Kate feels this bad tomorrow? What happens if my kids start showing breathing distress? We can't really ask someone to come help-- we're biohazards over here. I'll do my best to take care of everybody, but my capacity is more limited than I'd like right now. I'm still in good enough shape to navigate all that, for sure, but I won't be if things deteriorate a lot.

It'd be nice to be at home right now, but we still wouldn't be in a place where we could ask someone to take care of us. We're sort of on a virus-filled island right now. It's probably going to be okay. But, I don't know, maybe it'll get dang rough before it gets better. That's a worrisome feeling.

Do I know where we were infected? Eh, I've got some theories, but it doesn't really matter. We've been  careful. We've done the best we can-- masks everywhere, no restaurants or in-person shenanigans. We did go to church once (and it was testimony meeting, sigh), but that was a pretty safe scenario. At the end of the day we're in a pandemic. And the virus is, well, virulent. The likely vector of my infection comes from a family that was also being really careful. I don't judge them at all. 

And, once again, I may not even have Covid. But I do have the worst head-cold I've ever had, and my breathing sucks worse than it ever has. So I've got that going for me.

The timing is unfortunate. We took a few days off work last week to take a trip to the beach. We drove down to Padre Island (not South Padre Island. The regular Padre Island). We stayed at a very sparsely populated hotel. Masks in and out. Went to the beach twice a day. Social distanced, outside, pretty dang safe. I don't feel like our exposure there was worse than it is here. Given the onset of symptoms, it's almost definitely the case that we were infected before we traveled. But, you know, I still feel like I will be judged for that. 

It's weird to preemptively be positive for the virus. Now I'm one of those people. 

Side note: I have left the bathroom and am now sitting on the ancient recliner. I can breathe quite a bit better than before. My butt is also far more comfortable here than it was on the toilet. I daresay I should be able to sleep tonight. I'm going to rig up the kids' humidifier in here and sleep like an old person. 

So, yeah. I think I'm sick. I had some scary moments tonight. But we're doing okay. I hope my family doesn't have to go through this same stuff tomorrow. I hope y'all are doing okay. 

ForcedGratitude

Sometimes I feel like hot garbage. Honestly it's not infrequent. But even though I don't feel well I'm going to do this gratitude thing because I know it helps. Buckle up buttercup, we're doing this thing.

I'm grateful once again for diet coke. At this point it tastes good and is refreshing. Do I have a diet coke problem? Almost certainly. I still like it though :)

I'm thankful for Major's Burgers in Liberty Hill. Great food. Local place. Family owned and run. Such good food. Plus the wait in the drive thru is usually long enough to get a game of DotA Underlords in, which is fun.

We went on a hike today. We were safe and carrying my fat daughter didn't hurt my back as bad as last time. Progress!

K, going to bed. Thanks y'all. I hope you're doing super well. Gl hf and all that.

Tuesday at 29

I look back and recognize that I have changed a lot in the past eight years. I think this is a good thing. Despite spending a large portion of my time feeling anxious and depressed about everything, I do like who I am. That's a good feeling.

One of the things that changed between the eighth grade and now is how I feel about racism. I guess I didn't think it was a big deal back in the day. Specifically: I thought that individuals were probably racist but that this wasn't a serious problem.

Here's where I'm at now. Of course, I will continue to learn. But dang, I don't actually care about your individual racism. Like, whatever, you do you buddy. But what I do care about is the systemic racism that we have baked into our society. We, err, aren't set up to give everybody equal opportunities for success. This is *probably* a function of everybody's low-key racism in action, and *hopefully* not a function of a villainous cabal of billionaires (looking at you, Bloomberg).

I guess I just don't understand why

1. We're having such a hard time convincing our white friends that systemic racism is real
2. We're having a hard time convincing ourselves we should do something about it

Like, what the fetch is so hard about this? "Oh hey, we incarcerate black guys at an incredibly disproportionate rate, what's that about?" and "Oh wow, we give black guys way harsher sentences than we do white kids. Why is that?"

I think this makes sense when you take a historical look at things. We spent hundreds of years convincing ourselves that black people were less-than-us because it justified slavery. People can convince themselves of whatever they want to when it makes them a dollar. We then had a big fight about whether or not slavery was a good thing. Some people died I guess. But, shoot, losing the war didn't change the South's mind about stuff, it just wrecked their little country. 

We then spent a long time legally treating black people like garbage. Then we made that mostly illegal, but that didn't change anybody's mind-- it just sorta changed their actions. 

So yeah, when you look at a system that recently treated black people as legally less important, it's easy to see how the inhabitants of that system still carry vestigial ideas around with them. 

The evidence is just pretty overwhelming. And I don't understand why people get all defensive about this. "Yes but my great grandfather was a slave owner and was not a villian". Listen lady, nobody cares one bit about your grandfather. What we care about is systemic racism and what we are doing today to not be super villains. Let's make the world a better place and stop getting defensive about your racist grandpa, k? Nobody cares. Really. Seriously. Just stop. 

It's okay that we're calling you racist. It's fiiiiiiiine. Nobody likes you less because of it (jk we sorta do). What we really want, though, is to fix the system so we can live in a more just society. Does that hurt you at all? Nope, sure doesn't. Is it better for you? Absolutely.

So hey, it's okay that your grandpa was a racist super villain. It's completely irrelevant. Let's just fix the problems we have now because of the issues we created in the past. 

I feel like I generally do a decent job of understanding other people's view points. I'm really struggling to understand the fragile white resistance to fixing systemic racism though. Like seriously, what do you have to lose here? Why are you afraid of not incarcerating black men at a disproportionate rate? Help me see?

Anyways y'all should clearly vote for Elizabeth Warren. Peace. 

NormalGrat

I'm grateful that our car started acting funky on our drive tonight. That wasn't great, but it WAS great that we discovered it today when I was here and not tomorrow when I'm stuck an hour away. A gentle blessing.

I'm grateful that the waffles I made with E today turned out so dang good. I usually suck at waffles and today's were very good.

I'm grateful I get to go to work tomorrow and eat great food that I don't have to prepare or do dishes for. 

I'm grateful for medicine. E is sick today. Fever, bad ear infection, threw up. Poor kid. But the grape ibuprofen mostly helps him feel better.

Grateful that E is, I dunno, becoming a person? We're at the "emerging behavior" portion of parenthood. Dude had to throw up this morning. I was asleep on the couch. Dude walks to the drawer, gets an emesis bag Kate had from last pregnancy, and comes back to throw up in it. Super impressive that he knew where that bag was. And what it was used for. And that he knew he was going to puke. Like, holy fetch Batman. I had no idea my three year old has all that in his brain. I'm struggling to find my shoes on a regular basis and he's over here throwing up in some obscure vomit bag only he knew how to find. Impressive.

Been a While Grat

It has been too long. I've been a bit lazy. I'm starting to feel the effects of not writing though. I always feel so much more whole when I'm writing and journaling. I'm not entirely sure why that is. It's like the reverse Tom Riddle dairy over here. My soul becomes more unified when I write. Please, don't stab my blog with a basilisk fang (I know you were considering it Sly Pig).

Grateful. Still a little irritated by how dang effective this exercise is. The results of explicitly celebrating the good things in my life have been very positive. Less depression, which leads to me being a better dad, husband, employee, etc.

Skipping this exercise for the last two weeks has contributed to more depression lately. Nothing terrible, but still worth noting. 

Let's get to it.

I'm grateful for discouraging meetings with my manager. We meet once a week unless I get lucky and dodge it. Invariably I leave the meeting very discouraged. I used to think that this meant my manager wasn't good. I'm learning now that discouragement is usually my response to failure or criticism. I'm starting to recognize the opportunities (and necessity) to improve. Specifically: my team lead is super organized. So organized. He's like a black market organ smuggling ring he's so organized. I keep disappointing him because I'm not. But this is an opportunity to learn! I need to become organized! And I wouldn't have this opportunity otherwise. So I'm grateful.

Very sleepy! 

But I've been kicking butt at work lately. I'm starting to work with my neighbors a lot more and I love that. I'm starting a book club with them this Tuesday. I don't care about the book, but I'm excited to get to know the coworkers better.

Must sleep. Will write tomorrow.