On hunger, food, and self-care

It was a pretty standard workday. 11am rolled around, and my stomach was grumbling. I didn't know what I wanted to eat, but I knew I needed to eat. And then something came up. In that moment I chose to delay having lunch and ending my hunger. It was, in retrospect, not a good choice.

As a consequence of that, I was ravenous half an hour later when I finally allowed myself to get some food. I hadn't planned the meal out - that morning was a busy one, and I thought, "I'll just buy a lunch today." I hopped in the car and drove towards a store where I was going to run an errand after lunch. "Surely," I thought, "There's something in that vicinity." And there was. But it was roughly my 8,900th choice amongst restaurants.

I was fortunate enough to be able to afford and choose a meal. But I let myself get very hungry and ultimately, neglected my own care. I thought on this a bit, and realized there were techniques I could have used to help myself along the way.

I'd like to note that while this is my experience, I've observed it in many, many other people too.

Eat when you're hungry

This is a radical concept (!) trumpeted by people like Michelle Allison. She talks about normal eating and pulls in a definition from the great Ellyn Satter (whose work in this area is essential reading) that includes this:

Normal eating is giving yourself permission to eat sometimes because you are happy, sad or bored, or just because it feels good. Normal eating is mostly three meals a day, or four or five, or it can be choosing to munch along the way.

It can be challenging to do this - very challenging. There is a lot of social stigma and stereotyping around this idea and it impacts women more than men - and particular, fat women the most. It's also exacerbated by standard American workplaces where people eat at their desks in lieu of going out for lunch; this removes a degree of privacy when it comes to food, but it also establishes a boundary and sense of normalcy. Food is okay at our desks, but not okay in a meeting, for instance.

So eating on one's own schedule can be quite difficult sometimes. I've lost count of the number of times I've walked back to my desk with a meal I chose and I wanted, but felt very concerned about others' judgment of it. ("He's eating something fried!" "He's eating lunch at 10:30?")

With regards to schedules: it took me a long time to realize that it was okay for me to eat lunch at 11 instead of 12, which is when I was almost always hungry for a meal. I had to listen to what my body needed first, and then plan for the comments or feedback I would receive. I'm not done with this, but I'm in a better place than I once was.

I've talked about eating solo. While eating and sharing a meal with others can be a social activity, it can also be fraught with judgment and wanting to follow norms. Whether alone or in a group, one's food choices are always one's own.

Planning in advance

There are parts of me that love to plan. These parts also like to take a break when it comes to lunch, outside of picking up a few frozen evol bowls during a weekly grocery shop. I also try to balance those feelings with the very real notion of not feeling like a particular lunch on a given day. ("Another sandwich? Ugh...")

Still, having options is what matters here. At some point prior to that lunch, I could have put together a sandwich, or looked for leftovers. (PB&J is probably my winner for least effort and highest protein, which I dig.) While those might not have been my ideal lunches the next day, they became very real options... and were preferable to going out and having an unsatisfying lunch. (As a bonus, this ends up being a money saver for me as well.)

By the way, I found that having my meals at work on Monday morning is the best for me. That means I need to do some planning over the weekend and bring in all of my stuff at once on Monday morning, but then I don't need to even think about it during the week... and that is a huge, huge relief for me.

Prepare yourself

One last thing: you need to rely on yourself to feed yourself. This may sound elementary, but it is true. I can not and should not rely on my workplace to ever provide the food or snacks I need to get through the day - even if they do provide snacks (and almost every one of my workplaces has done this). I try every day to bring at least a couple of snacks along with me, in addition to my meal. I have a decent sense of when my body typically gets hungry, and I'm still learning what best fills it up.

But if I get to work and I have nothing in my bag? I know I'm either a) going to be hungry, b) going to choose from non-ideal options, or c) going to need to stop at a store and get snacks. And frankly, c) doesn't happen often. That's planning in the moment, which I'm not great at.

This idea is a subset of the idea of a "food bag", one of the tenets of the Overcoming Overeating program by Carol Munter and Jane Hirschmann. It's such a good idea that I think it can apply to everyone, even if you have a positive relationship with food. Here's more info on what a food bag is. (That article includes a lot of terms like "glitter", "legalizing food", and the like.)

It's all about taking care

You know those candy bar commercials that show people literally not being themselves when they're hungry? Putting aside the commercial message for a moment, that's actually a great analogy. When I'm hungry I am unable to focus. I am dissatisfied. I get a little cranky. These are things I don't necessarily want to feel.

All of these techniques and ideas - normalizing food, eating when you're hungry, and having the best options for you - are a big part of taking care of one's self.

(For more info by people much smarter than I, I recommend When Women Stop Hating Their Bodies which is a great read for people of all genders.)

Without People

As I look back through my life, work inclusive, I see a very clear pattern. From early on, I became a rather independent person who preferred to be alone. It came out through things I did, and the ways I acted, and I didn't realize it.

I touched on this briefly last year:

Some of my choices [in life and work] gave me this opportunity to be invisible. Photography, as I discussed with my friend Paul this weekend, let me hide behind a camera. Doing work in computers let me hide behind a screen. Hiding. Not showing myself. 

That's not a coincidence; it's how I operated. I did things on my own so that I could get all of the credit, all of the attention, all of the joy - and I ignored the "all of the blame" part.

The other day I had the good fortune to participate in a friend's design class; she invited me to critique her students' final presentations. We got to talking over lunch and learned we both love photography. She asked what kind of photography I liked - I answered architectural. When it came to explaining why, though, a light bulb went off in my head: there are no people in those pictures. None.

Buildings aren't people. They don't move spontaneously (usually). They don't show emotion as people do. They are not alive. They are objects ultimately. Those facets coupled with my overwhelming comfort to do things solo, preferably behind a screen, was showing up in my art.

And the attempts to include people were very slow and cautious... experiments. I recall an assignment from my high school photo class in which we needed to photograph strangers. And wow, for an introvert like me? That was terrifying. But I did it, and some of the photos were quite nice. Years and years later, I dabbled in anonymous street photography (still hidden). And I did end up doing portraits of friends, some with constructed scenarios and some for more formal holiday cards.

UX Without People

There's a direct comparison to my day job and my work. I started programming, solo. I slowly reached out to BBSes, GEnie, and user groups and later thrived in a US mail-based user group.  Eventually I became fascinated by the ways software and hardware interacted with people, and so I moved over to UI - still not working directly with users, but closer. My first gigs in UX didn't involve research nor talking with users, so I had to be a magical idea person. Finally, now I'm in UX and life work where I must work with people in order to help them.

(As an aside, this also shows up here: you're reading this, but it's not a conversation and I'm not getting any feedback in the moment. That's actually easier for me to handle, otherwise we might be talking about it. At one point I conflated blogs and journals and even Twitter with directness. But there's a layer between us, a technology and societal messiness that is in our way. I love that we can still connect about this topic, or something else, even though this is not a conversation.)

So I understand that whole "magical UX/Creative genius" thing because I really loved being that person, and early in my career I really couldn't see myself as not being that person. It is an amazing feeling to be the one who comes up with all of these ideas out of thin air and all of them are loved. (Or most of them.) That's exciting. That's fun. But it's not enough. It doesn't work without people because life doesn't work without people.

Observation, understanding, action

In and of itself, noticing this pattern isn't action. It doesn't change anything in and of itself. But being highly observant of my behaviors and my patterns, both in the present and in the past, helps me be far more mindful and present now.

The Podcasts I Listen to, 2014

At IA Summit, I was chatting with the great Jessica Ivins when she asked me, "What podcasts do you listen to?" Awesome question, and since I have a long commute, I listen to quite a few shows.

But here's the funny thing: only one of them is directly about design. I can guess why that is: not thinking directly about UX or design gives me a break to actually think about this stuff. Got it? Good.

Without further ado, the podcasts I listen to, 2014 edition.

  • 99% Invisible: Okay, so here's the design-y show I listen to. There's so much to like about Roman Mars's short show on the invisible aspects of design. The stories are very rich and terribly interesting, and I feel like I'm learning things with each episode. (There are companies whose sole purpose is to name things! The Citigroup Building in New York could have been blown over!)
  • The Alton Browncast: I've had my love and hate streaks with Alton Brown but he shows how great an interviewer he is on his podcast. I haven't been interested in all of his guests for sure, but then there are keepers like the interviews with John Hodgman and Alex Guarnaschelli (highly recommended).
  • Back to Work: I've listened to every episode. When you have nearly 200 episodes, you don't bat 1.000. And the banter between Merlin and Dan is really, really off-putting for new listeners. But, there are great streaks of solid, insightful work and life stuff here. To wit: the episodes on sleep and really working with GTD. The show is never dry, but if you don't like either of the two hosts, you probably won't get with the show.
  • Designing Yourself: I listen to my own podcast. It's great.
  • Judge John Hodgman: Oh yeah, a long-time favorite - I've listened to every one. My wife and I can agree on one podcast, and this is it. Funny, smart, great pacing. Judge John Hodgman rules - that is all.
  • Radiolab: Just got into this and I'm not sure why I didn't listen sooner. Whereas I was growing fatigued by This American Life, Radiolab feels a lot fresher and interesting to me. Excellent pacing and diversity of topics.
  • The Spark & The Art: Tucker's new show on creativity and art. Great point of view, solid interviews.
  • The Talk Show: Probably the nerdiest one I listen to. Some shows are a miss, but many are genuinely interesting if you're curious about the mobile industry, Apple, and its competitors. The episode with Glenn Fleishman was revelatory, as it explained Bitcoin in terms I could fully understand.

I also have a few shows that I dip into now and then, but are not quite on the regular rotation. They include BLNCE, Bullseye with Jesse Thorn, Ladies in Tech, and Throwing Shade.

That's what I've got. If you listen to something good, let me know.

IA Summit changed my life, again

Note: this article reflected my feelings on IA Summit at the time of attendance. As of 2018, I've learned of serious safety violations at the conference over many years. Please consider that when reading this, as my experience may not be typical. Until further notice, you should not attend the IA Conference (which is what IA Summit is now known as) or support the IA Foundation. – Ed.

I didn't expect it. How could anyone? A conference changed me in 2013. Yes, a conference. So while I've been an enormous booster of IA Summit, I wasn't expecting to have a similar experience in San Diego this year.

But I was wrong. IA Summit did change my life again. Truly.

Over the past day or so since my time at the conference ended, I've been reflecting on why this is. I've talked about it at length with my friends. And I think it boils down to this.

The talks are tremendous and diverse (the keynotes, in particular, are just stellar). The program is well-crafted and thoughtful. The venue and experience of the event is just about flawless. But in the end the people and the community are second to none.

I think about how attendees can go on stage at Five Minute Madness and feel comfortable and safe (!) enough to share their deepest feelings. I see how conversations run the gamut from taxonomy and emotion to design patterns and pie (yes, we talked pie). The energy of the entire conference is overwhelmingly positive, encouraging, and supportive. Flex track exists. Karaoke and game night exist. Yoga, 5K & 10Ks, and social events are plentiful. The keynote had yoga. THE KEYNOTE HAD YOGA.

Due in part to all of this, IA Summit offers that fertile ground. I can have life changing conversations with people. (LIFE CHANGING! FOR REAL!) I can approach parts of work in entirely new ways. I can get in front of a room full of strangers and sing "It's the End of the World As We Know It" without a lyric sheet. I can both see people for who they are and be seen for the person I am.

IA Summit gives people in this very special industry the chance to be themselves, fully. It is refreshing. It is true. I have not experienced this anywhere else. I do not expect to. Instead, I expect to attend this conference every year until I can no longer do so. It is my home, it is my tribe, it is my people.

I will miss all of you, stay in touch throughout the year, and see you again in Minneapolis... if not sooner.

The Disconnect

It starts out very quietly. "I'll talk to her tomorrow", you may think to yourself, "instead of today. I'm not up to it." And maybe you aren't. Maybe your energy is low; maybe your capacity for compassion needs to be refilled.

Then tomorrow rolls around and you think about that lack of contact. "That's not going to happen today. Something got in the way." Maybe the dog needed a bath, or there was an important phone call that needed to happen. You bumped it down the to do list.

Soon, it's a week and you haven't spoken with that other person. That "Call her" task is a big fat number on your GTD list. The disconnection has taken root. You start wondering what's going on with them. Have you done something wrong? Are they okay? Wow, I hope they're not sick. Maybe they're "just busy". Are they still... there?

And then it snowballs into a month. Now it's been forever since you've talked, and the anxiety builds. It festers and lingers. And now what could you possibly say? How could you take everything that's been swirling around in your life for the past month and encapsulate it into a neat, 10 minute conversation? More importantly, how can you articulate these feelings and emotions to this other person?

How long does it need to continue before you reconnect? Does it need to continue at all? And more importantly, how long will it be until you realize that your inactions are just as impactful as actions?

It is actually a big deal

I've been in places where anxiety has absolutely gotten the best of me, and it can be all-encompassing. I've gotten so wrapped up in worrying about what might happen that I just don't do anything, instead. But that's a choice, as it ever was, and ultimately what does it serve me?

I learned through self-observation and self-reflection that I was giving anxiety a big, big part of my days. Just turning it all over to anxiety, and I'd push it way down. But that isn't sustainable. Worse, it can be painful.

Pull in your logical parts, and call on them to examine the facts. Watch what you're doing, in the spirit of empathy and understanding. Then, reconnect.

Reconnect with yourself. Reconnect with others.

2013

I'm tempted to write a year-end reflection filled with clichés, or a list filled with numbers, or a list of clichés filled with numbers. It's hard not to; please indulge me while I try to avoid both. (I'll succumb shortly.)

The summary, though: 2013 was a year in which I got to know myself better, and then began to work to satisfy the parts of me that had been underrepresented for a long time (possibly my entire life). That's no small potatoes. That's pretty big.

A lot of this manifested as change. I started a new job in August, one that has allowed me to remove fighting from my daily duties and focus on client work and business development. I passed the 300 miles run mark, and started to run outdoors - so much that I began to prefer it in October. I attended a few conferences and one of them, IA Summit, changed me forever. I played guitar as a part of a UX talk in February. I spoke at the inaugural UX STRAT conference. I started a podcast and finished its first season. My wife and I celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary. My son turned 3.

If I look back, I'm able to connect a lot of these things. There wasn't any one thing that necessarily allowed all of this to happen but there is one theme: I allowed myself to be more open to possibilities by improving my presence and awareness in the moment. It's this continued practice at being present that really helped me the most. Without it, I would be holding on to things I need to let go of and not be much of a participant in my own life. Notably, too, a lot of decisions I made in 2013 set me up for the future - later in 2013, and in 2014. It's thrilling to see how the little choices, and the big ones, can affect what's to come.

The Influencers

My biggest influencers this year were my wife and my son. They have pushed me to be a stronger, better, and more patient person. Without them, I would be a very different individual.

A lot of other people had big influences on me too. Here's where I give in and make a big list.

Massive professional thanks to, in no order: Kathi Kaiser, Lyman Casey, Whitney Hess, Karen McGrane, Carl Smith, Jenn Downs, Mike Montiero, Erika Hall, Sarah Emerson, Shelby Bower, Marteki Reed, Thomas Huls, Rebecca Griftner, Gina Trapani, Dan Klyn, Susan Rice, Pamela Pavliscak, Ryan MacMichael, Damaris Phillips, Kathy Sierra, Ashe Dryden, Paul Bryan, Roz Duffy, Steve Portigal, Anita Sarkeesian, Dave Raymond, Roman Mars, Jesse Thorn, John Hodgman, Amy Silvers, Christian Crumlish, Elysse Zarek, Abby Covert, Christina Wodtke, Margot Bloomstein, Lisa Maria Martin, Lis Hubert, John Jarosz, Peter Merholz, Gene Moy, Jessica Ivins, Leslie Jensen-Inman, Kristina Halvorson, Derek Powazek, and Cinnamon Cooper. You all have inspired me, motivated me, encouraged me, and pushed me to be better. Thank you.

In case you didn't want to read that entire list, I understand. Here's a smattering of the things that impacted me the most this year.

2014

I have no idea what's going to happen next. Life is exciting that way.

Thank you for being on this journey with me. Namaste.

There's always one more thing to do

It's no secret that I love lists. I've talked about it on my podcast and I've blogged about it forever. For me, there is something very satisfying for me to accomplish something and cross it off the list - or delete it altogether.

And yet...

In all this talk of making better lists and organizing one's self, one thing is true: the to do list never goes away. It never ends.

I don't see this as a fatalist thing, or a depressing thing. And, in fact, there was a time in my life when I felt so very overwhelmed and burdened by things to do that I prioritized them over everything else. Everything else. I could always find busywork in cleaning, or organizing, or doing project X that had been on the back burner forever.

I could also be distracted by tools: trying a system out (Things, OmniFocus, GTD) and then letting the tool be the focus instead of the things to do, or not do.

But in the meantime, I realized that choosing to do something on my list meant I wasn't doing something else. The list would live forever, and it would always be there. And as I sat with that I came to see that the list couldn't be my life anymore. So I worked on doing something very difficult: I started to let the list go.

That led to initial feelings of guilt ("Oh no! I'm not organizing the garage today EITHER!") and regret. Those feelings subsided over time to a place of acceptance, because it helped me refocus on the choices I was making at the time. Yes, I wasn't reorganizing the garage. But what was I doing instead? Something that was more important.

The to do list is never going away. You can recognize that and dive completely into the list forever and ever, never finishing, always busy. You can also recognize it and choose to live your life, and not let a list rule you.

Go where you're wanted

Once upon a time, my job decided to reorganize the department I was in. In fact, it reorganized me right out of my job. I went from having a team with a clear plan for the coming year to having no direct reports and poorly-defined "dotted line" relationships. 

I felt incredible shock when it happened (it was a sudden change, at least to me). More challenging was that my responsibilities were changing, but my title and pay were not. So I had to pretend I was still in management even though I wasn't.

I sat down with my new boss at the time and talked with him about the change. To be fair, he had heard about this change just two hours before I had, suggesting it was a poorly-designed decision. He was familiar with all of my work: building out a competency, setting personal and team goals, developing a UX roadmap, and helping create a product strategy. And then he said something profound, something that only solidified my already-present feelings on leaving.

He said, "It's great that you have all of these skills, but we just don't need them." 

A couple of things crystallized for me at that moment. One was that my job was no longer going to challenge me in any deep nor meaningful way. Two was that in his eyes, I was a resource - nothing more.  

The path

To be fair, the path to that moment was not completely unexpected. Tensions had run deep as I put forth my agenda and mission for my team and myself, as it made some people uncomfortable. "People are afraid UX is going to take over the company," my former boss had said to me. I told him, "I don't want to take over the company. I just want us to have that fabled seat at the table." (This was coded talk for, "Shit's fucked up , yo.")

As my team and I started questioning things, the questions started to grow in scale. We moved from, "Why is this page so shitty?" to, "Well, why do  we price products this way?" to, "Why are we making this product?" We asked more and more questions and faced more and more pushback (in part because some of the questions had no answers). People were uncomfortable.

This discomfort and fear was what followed me around every day, and I let it get to me. I had to fight and fight and fight. I had to fight for my team. I had to fight for my job. I had to fight for market pay. I had to fight for org structures that made sense. Hell, I had to fight to get a part-timer converted to full-time. But by the end of it I was truly tired of fighting. It took away much of my passion, much of my drive, and much of my energy.

And, well, being in that position and then having your boss say your skills aren't needed? A clarion call.

The exit

I was and am fortunate to be in a place where I can choose to leave a job and take a new one. I do have a family and financial responsibilities, and I wasn't in a position to go freelance nor do I feel that's right for me (even now). But the number of privileges I had was astounding: I didn't need that job; they needed me - until they truly didn't, anymore; I got to hire my replacement; I got to find a job where I was challenged. 

Most importantly though, I didn't need to fight those battles. I didn't need to fight for UX, my team, my respect, my pay, or anything like that. I was able to instead focus on my work, fight for way more interesting things, and help that company do its very best.

To me, that is extremely valuable. In that job, I was wanted - and it made a world of difference.


36

Today I turn 36. It is a year without glamour, without any additional privileges by itself, and simply is. 

My previous year on this planet, in this life, was an amazing one. I learned an incredible amount. I fucked up a lot. I succeeded. I started to allow me to be me. I was scared, happy, thrilled, excited, bored, tired, loved, loving, hated, disrespected, respected, admired, disgusted, disillusioned, befriended, comforted. All of that, and millions more things, billions. 

And I want to share 36 things with you. These are things that I currently believe. I may not believe them next year, and probably didn't 2 or 5 or 10 years ago. I love lists. Indulge me.

  1. I am way too big to be defined by labels applied by myself or others.
  2. Being present in every moment is supremely important and incredibly challenging. 
  3. Life is too fucking short to be in a job filled with fighting. 
  4. I'm very privileged, and I want to use that privilege to truly help others. 
  5. Often I say things before I truly feel them and believe them.
  6. I have to inspire myself, be my own hero, be my own best advocate - always.
  7. The past is fixed but the way we interact with it can be changed.
  8. Everything, everyone is always changing.
  9. Guilty pleasures are bullshit. Love what you love. 
  10. No one is keeping score in any way.
  11. Exercise has been empowering and transformative in ways I could not have ever predicted. 
  12. Every single person I encounter in a day, and every single person I do not encounter, is fully formed with her own dreams, wishes, beliefs, concerns, joys, suffering, and love.
  13. Self-awareness is power.
  14. The struggles of parenting are outweighed, significantly, by the inspiration and beauty of seeing my son live his life. 
  15. Nearly everything I thought was important is not really that important.
  16. Not choosing something is actually choosing something; non-decision is a decision.
  17. All of the things I thought I couldn't do are things I actually can do.
  18. I care about aesthetics in myself, others, and objects. 
  19. I now have a good sense of what makes a good boss and what does not make a good boss; I've worked for both and all types in between.
  20. I am an introvert but love talking with people. 
  21. Dismissing ideas and people out of hand is foolish.
  22. Ask, ask, ask.
  23. Compassion rules.
  24. I am hard on myself, really hard.
  25. My body knows what's up.
  26. Gender is not binary. 
  27. Thinking something is very different than feeling it, which in turn is very different than acting on it. 
  28. There have been some people close to me all this time and I have caused them pain and hurt. 
  29. Death only changes a relationship with a person; that relationship carries on. 
  30. I can and should surprise myself more often.
  31. I can and should surprise others more often. It's fun. 
  32. Some things pass and some things stay; this doesn't mean the things that are here will always be here. 
  33. I drink a lot of water.
  34. Everything is going to be okay, and everything is okay.
  35. Death may come at any moment, and I will strive to always be ready for it. 
  36. People are not machines. 

May these 36 thoughts spread and bloom and fly away from me. 

Replay

There are events in my life I replay in my head at a moment's notice. Sometimes it's  great stuff, like my wedding day or the day I met my son, and the way I feel when I'm replaying those moments is hard to articulate - but I feel warm, comfortable, confident. 

Then there's the shitty stuff. My brain is filled with memories of embarrassing and sad situations from my life too. Sometimes I replay these and until recently, I never tried to do anything with them. I just watched them play. I'd be in the car, and think about something that happened in 2nd grade, and it would just be overwhelming . Not to the point of pulling over, but something that would absolutely take my energy right out of the present. Haunted me.

But there's something I realized recently and shared:

Expanding on that a bit: the way that I've seen these memories in my head is like I'm watching TV. It's me on the screen, I can see it, but I can't interact with it.

And then I was taught that I can, in fact, interact with it. While I can no longer change what happened - ever - I can always change my relationship in the present with that memory. So the things that I've held with me, the things I deem embarrassing, are chances for me to step in with who I am now and react differently. 

Because I'm a geek I like to compare this to time travel. I can go anyplace in the past, and I can't change the events, but I can interact with what's happening knowing that - to quote Faraday from LOST - whatever happened, happened. 

So what's in the interaction? Usually me trying to be more compassionate with myself, honestly. Not being so hard on myself or, if I am hard on myself, accepting that and trying to understand why that is.  In contrast, I relive the good stuff to just feel good in a moment. Sometimes I need that comfort.

All that said, this idea has significantly changed the way I think about the past. I respect it. The script is written. But I can reinterpret it now, and I bet I'll reinterpret it differently in 5 years, 5 decades (hopefully!), or even 5 minutes. We're always changing, always.