We Made It

It took 42 years to get here but finally, I believe it when I say we made it.

I’m in a hotel room sipping on my morning coffee in Denver. I’m here with Ms. Chubbicorn for her work conference and working remotely, enjoying the city, enjoying the food.

I’m also missing home, because for the first time, home is better than elsewhere.

For most of my life, I avoided putting my feet on the ground because that meant I was putting roots down. I needed to stay mobile. Run. Always move.

I put my bare foot onto the ground just a few months ago.

It felt safe.

I felt at home.

I felt grounded.

Are we okay dad?

In all my therapy sessions, it always came to have you thought about talking to your dad about this.

No.

Let’s find a way around it.

For all my life, all I wanted was for my dad to validate that we were safe.

And of course, he said the words.

“I’m working so that you can be happy.”

“I just want you to be happy.”

“Of course I love you.”

For all my life, he worked. He never stopped. It was go go go.

He said the words, but his actions were different.

Traveling to the airport, he was an anxiety bomb.

When we’re on vacation, he can’t sit still.

In his early years, his hands would shake uncontrollably.

In hindsight, he was traumatized, from the war, from being a prisoner, the boat trip, and being a foreigner in a new land.

What I needed was to be in the presence of calming energy. His words said we’re okay, but his energy said otherwise.

So I mimicked his energy. I too became anxious. I too was ready to run at a moment’s notice. I too was still at war.

Hey Dad, We Made It

In a recent dinner conversation, my dad and I talked about his end of life plans. It didn’t bother me, not because I wasn’t attached to him, but for the first time ever, I felt at peace.

He was saying that he’s had a good life, and that when the time comes to go, he wants to go fast, healthy. Don’t keep him on life support indefinitely.

When I got past the gut reaction, I reflected on what he’s been through and done.

• His early years were cut short by the war.

• He fought in the war.

• He survived the re-education camp.

• He got on a riverboat and sailed out for 7 days to the refugee camp.

• He cared for his family at the refugee camp.

• He came to the US and worked 30+ years without lapse in employment.

• He moved in with me in a wealthy part of town.

• He saw his two sons grow up, and they made their own wealth.

• He’s here for his grandson.

When I look at the arc of his life, by all definitions, we made it.

We made it.

We made it.

We made it.

Some musings

I’ve been looking into the work of Bryan Johnson on anti-aging and reversing aging, not because I’m looking to extend life, but to take on the parts that help me with my trauma and anxiety.

From his work, I’ve been trying out the Pulsetto device for stimulating my vagus nerve.

I’m also using the Apollo and Sensate devices to improve my calm. Most recently, I found that the Sensate got my daily meditation into a deep state, almost a deep nap. It's taken years to get there. I’m convinced no magic bullet instantly fixes it.