Adulting

Agency

I believe in Agency.

Letting every person make as many decisions about their life as possible.

I draw the line at full Agency when a choice or decision hurts another person, but until then I want us all to have discretion about what we do with our time and our energies. Let us each create the life we want.

Agency is just a fancier word for choice. I use it a lot, maybe to sound smarter than I am, but it really is the foundational value on which everything else I believe is hung. It’s like freedom, but less static. Freedom to me is lack of controls, whereas Agency implies action. Freedom allows choice but doesn’t demand it. Agency requires action, the act of choosing.

I talk to my children about intention too. Choosing with intention. To me, that’s even more what what Agency is about: choosing consciously and with intent for an outcome. You may not get what you hope, but you increase your chances, and that ups the odds of living a satisfying life.

I’ve not always used my Agency. In fact, I’ve been pretty negligent until recently about taking action to achieve a specific goal. Most of that is because I haven’t set intentions, but it’s also true that I haven’t had the courage to try for the ones I did set. I trusted the universe to take care of me, and that is a sure path to an underwhelming life. The universe is ambivalent to each of us; it’s not malevolent, it doesn’t want to screw us to the floor, but it’s not going to care if we’re unhappy with our lots either. It will march on in step with that taskmaster Time, blissfully ignorant of our frustrations.

No, it’s up to each of us to choose the life we want to live and then work to create it. Not one of us will get everything on which we set our sights – the universe seems petulant that way – but those who work most diligently and with clear eyes on their own prize will reap more of it than those of us who coast. 80-10-10 after all (80% of the time we get what we earn, 10% we get hosed, and 10% we get away with something).

We win at life when we don’t begrudge what we sacrifice for our choices, because instead what we gain with those very same choices fulfills us. We win when we make the benefit worth the cost, including the opportunity cost of foregoing other choices in favor of those that bring us the biggest returns.

My experiment in Agency is still in its nascent stages, and I am overwhelmed with doubts from time to time. But I have also experienced the exhilaration and excitement when I have a small success on the road to my larger intentions. Because I know that I made that little success happen.

I look forward to the rush I’ll get when I achieve one of my big goals.

Of Coffee and Weddings

I see my older daughter Callie most Fridays for coffee before we begin work. It is one of my greatest joys, and I regret that my younger daughter Addie and I don’t live close enough to do the same (instead we talk by phone on Wednesday evenings).

Callie and I talk about all manner of things, and while our relationship will always retain the parent-child dynamic – heck, that dynamic still remains between my parents and me at my age of 62 – I think we’ve moved past it in many regards. I delight when she gives a different perspective to mine, and she does that now regularly.

Last week she talked extensively about her wedding.

She’s not engaged yet. And the timing of her wedding is uncertain, but according to her it is at least another 18 months off. So why were we discussing her wedding?

I’m not sure.

Callie just started talking about it, and there was no diverting her. (Not that I tried very hard. I might indulge my daughters just a bit.) It was clearly on her mind, and when Callie has something on her mind, it tends to come out. She never could keep a secret, and she doesn’t do a great job of keeping her thoughts restrained either. No one ever has to worry about subterfuge with Callie.

And, boy, did she have thoughts. Lots and lots of them. She was very animated, and the ideas were just spilling out of her. The possibilities are nearly endless, and she was knocking them down with alacrity. Outdoor wedding. Remote location. Something in the area. Party. Dinner. Friends playing songs in the wedding. A simple ceremony. Family staying together before, during, and after. Flower dudes. Lots of attendants. Few attendants. Lots of friends. Small wedding. No bridesmaids’ gowns or tuxedos.

I’m usually pretty outspoken with my kids, but I couldn’t get a word in.

On reflection, I think this might presage some imminent change in her relationship status. I suspect an engagement announcement might be soon forthcoming.

Perhaps on Monday, five days from now.

My suspicions were heightened last night when my younger daughter asked their mother and me for a family Zoom call on Monday evening, and when I pointed out that we have many days between now and then Addie replied that she and Callie were busy. And then Callie cancelled our standing coffee date tomorrow morning, claiming illness.

It’s possible Callie is ill, though she hasn’t missed work as far as I can tell from her BeReal posts this week. It’s possible Addie has some news for us, though the last time she initiated a family conference it was to tell us that she was going to finish her degree in Audio Engineering but was going to pursue a career in animal conservation instead. Hard to imagine what is going on in her life that rises to that level of importance, especially since I spoke with her for an hour just yesterday.

No, I think it’s more probable that Callie is sporting an engagement ring she doesn’t want me to see, and that she’s enlisted her sister to help her organize the announcement. I could certainly be wrong, but I suspect that soon our family will be growing by one son-in-law.

And I’m very fine with that.

Epilogue

So it seems I was more than a little off-base about this call.

Our daughters called my soon-to-be-ex-wife and me on the carpet about the information we have been sharing with them about our divorce. I was surprised, Dawn less so, which leads me to think I may have been a misdemeanor offender (but an offender nonetheless). Still, I applaud the courage our children have in tackling the issue and setting their boundaries.

But, at least for the moment, there is no wedding to plan.

Aspirations

It seems we’ve ended this year’s third quarter with another decline in broad stock-market indices. Safe to say it hasn’t been a stellar year for equity investment returns.

I saw my friend Dave last weekend. He recently retired, and he’s a little freaked out by the market decline. He is in good shape money-wise, despite his anxieties. He has plenty of assets from his lifetime of work, and he’s worked with a financial advisor pretty extensively, so his asset allocation should allow him to weather this storm.

But he’s unusual.

First, he has assets. The median retirement savings for Americans 60-64 is about $225,000, which can reliably generate a bit over $10,000 per year in income. That’s not very much. Dave has a lot more, so he doesn’t need to eat into his principal. Eating your seed corn is only a good idea if you have no other choice.

Second, by working with a financial advisor, he’s balanced his investment risk tolerance with his desired returns. So he has investments that will provide him returns that might vary, but during times like this he should have enough cash-type assets to keep him from having to sell other assets at depressed prices.

Third, he is a frugal man. While he has hobbies, and he has an appetite for the whimsical purchase, none of that is particularly expensive. He doesn’t travel much, and when he eats out he’s content with good-quality fast food and local taquerias. He doesn’t drink to excess, his gambling is restricted to nickel poker with friends, and I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t even know where to source drugs outside a cannabis dispensary.

So he’ll be more than fine financially.

I’ve often felt that we are directed to oversave for retirement. It’s obviously not working if the median 60+ year-old has only $225,000, but I contend that’s because of low earnings rather than profligacy. Professionals suggest we save enough to allow us to live to 95 years old. Yet life expectancy is in the mid-80s for those of us already in middle age. Some of us will make it to 95, but most of us won’t. So we will have oversaved by several years, depriving us of those resources we could have used during our lives.

I get the moral hazard argument, but I’m not sure data supports the idea that people shirk their responsibilities. There are anecdotes, of course, because someone somewhere has done anything you can possibly imagine, but I think people are generally honest and have good intentions. Yes, we are lazy, and yes, we often take the path of least resistance, but I think we also see ourselves as team members, and we usually want to do our part for the greater good, especially when we think others are doing so too.

So perhaps we need to rethink our savings targets and enhance social security or some other public income program for those who live beyond their projected lifespans. It would free up resources, so people wouldn’t have to sacrifice as much, and it would help that $225,000 nest egg the average person has to use.

It won’t stop my man Dave from worrying, but it could let a lot of others sleep better at night.

Cousin Mike

I don’t have a particularly large family, but then again it isn’t small either. Each of my parents had two siblings, and they gave me six cousins on my mother’s side and four on my father’s. All of my cousins have an appeal, but lately I’ve been thinking a lot about one in particular.

My cousin Mike (on the right, above) is the oldest on my father’s side. My Uncle Edward’s four children showed musical talent, and family gatherings with them always featured guitars and banjos and singing. Everyone enjoyed it, but music to cousin Mike is like oxygen. He simply needs music to live.

He made his living as a salesperson for a big company that makes a lot of different things for buildings and machines, but whenever he had a spare moment he played music or listened to music or thought about music. He can play just about any stringed instrument, and he’s played in hobby bands throughout his life, often with other family members. He’s played for the past several years in a bluegrass band that plays regionally in the midwest, mostly northern Illinois and southern Wisconsin.

To call it a compulsion is probably accurate, but there’s something of a muddy film that coats the word compulsion. Mike really feels compelled to make music, but music brings him great joy and satisfaction. It’s not drudgery, it’s a light in his life. It’s such a part of him, fused to his identity and the goals that give his life its purpose, that he yearns to do it, so there’s no friction at all with his need to do it.

I envy that alignment, and I hope my writing becomes that for me.

I am sometimes reminded of my brother’s bachelor party when I consider questions like this one. We took Shawn to Las Vegas, where we did the expected shows and gambling and adult entertainment and extravagant meals for a long weekend. It was probably 3am on Sunday morning when I found myself with a couple other friends of his sitting in a lounge cut out of the casino. On the tiny stage was a cover band playing pop hits from the 70s and 80s.

My first thought was dismissive, bordering on disdain.

“How pathetic do you have to be to play someone else’s music in front of six people at a casino at 3am? The effort to practice, the expense of the instruments and equipment, the costumes, the opportunity cost of the time and money invested, and this is the best you can do?”

And then a second though occurred to me (not in time to save me from proving myself a judgmental jerk, of course).

“If they are playing this gig, then it’s obviously worth the sacrifices they’re making. They get to do what they love to do, and someone is paying them to do it. They are performing on stage, playing music with their bandmates, because they want to do this exact thing. And that’s such an admirable trait. Chase your dreams and appreciate the journey.”

I chose to believe that they were living the life they wanted to live, not grudgingly punching the clock on a dream with a different destination.

That Vegas trip was a couple decades ago, and I hadn’t considered my cousin Mike at that time. But thinking about him validates for me the second thought I had on that early Sunday morning: some people are lucky enough to love what they must do.

And I hope to be one of them.

My Niece

I saw my niece yesterday.

She’s had a rough go so far. She calls herself the “Queen of Bad Decisions.” Failed by adults during her formative years, she doesn’t feel worthy even now in her early-thirties. She doesn’t deserve to be happy, to find purpose, to be loved. So she punishes herself with drugs and sex and booze and people who steal from her and, recently, beat her. Badly.

After all, she’s not worthy of care, compassion, and love.

And yet, despite all of her self-flagellation, something at her core, an indomitable spirit, won’t let her succumb to desolation, won’t surrender to the voices that tell her she doesn’t deserve happiness. It insists that she matters and that she must persevere, no matter how much pain she feels.

She is extraordinarily brave. She is also often self-centered, regularly manipulative, and less-than-honest at times. I suspect much of that is survival response, but her behavior still raises questions among her family and friends, and she’s been abandoned by more than one of the people she cares about. Mostly because she treats them badly. It’s hard to think of others, to empathize with them when you feel shitty about yourself.

But no matter how much abuse she heaps on herself she always pulls back from the brink of complete self-destruction. She does cut it close sometimes. She’s been hospitalized for alcohol poisoning, and she regularly chooses people who have problems with impulse control and suffer a great deal of pain themselves. I guess those folks are plentiful when you’re living on the margins of society, but everyone needs friends, so like the rest of us you take what the universe provides. They don’t always prove to be reliable.

And she can’t catch a break. She’d worked very hard for about three years to bring herself from homelessness to a sober, employed, independently-functioning member of our community. And four months later a global COVID-19 pandemic closed the retail store where she worked, and without a job she was soon without a place to live again. The pandemic has challenged us all, but it’s one more thing on top of a staggering pile of challenges for those people like my niece.

She’s a hard worker. She likes to do things. She’s got a great sense of humor, and she laughs and jokes with people regardless of how well she knows them. But she has just a high-school diploma, and ADHD makes traditional school hard for her. And her history with adults has left her with a towering distrust of authority figures. So building skills, which requires learning from either books or from people who know how to do things, goes against her talents and life experience.

I don’t know how her story will develop. I worry that the mountain of crap into which she was born that also encouraged her dodgy decision-making will ultimately be too much for her to surmount. But I am heartened by her absolute refusal to take herself beyond salvation. I am hopeful she will find enough people to trust, enough resource to give her the knowledge, skills, and experience that will enable her to function on her own, enable her to find a tribe that values her for who and what she is.

It’s the same hope I have for all the people I love.

Failure

No one I know likes to fail.

If you’re raised to honor your commitments, then failing to do so feels mortifying. Humiliating even.

I am on the precipice of the two most significant failures in my life, and yet I don’t feel humiliated. Or even mortified. I’m not ecstatic, but I don’t feel bereft. I guess I feel modestly hopeful.

I regret that I haven’t been able to deliver on my promises in both cases, but I’m an analyst, and circumstances being what they are I understand why I am in the position in which I find myself. That understanding has led to acceptance of my situation. I have regrets, but they are mild. I would have liked to achieve success, but that just isn’t where I am.

The most immediate failure is of the business I share with my wife. Opening a shared workspace business was a good decision. The sector is booming, and the social and professional dynamics around work support the move to more flexibility. Opening a shared workspace business a few months before a pandemic swept the world for two years (and counting) was an ill-timed decision. The pandemic destroyed any chance to grow a shared workspace business, and while our landlord deferred some of our rent, it didn’t feel benevolent enough to forgive any of it. We’ve hung on as long as we could, putting a lot of our own money and sweat equity into the business, but as surge after surge of Covid delayed a return to the office our cash reserves steadily dwindled until we are now out of room. So we wait to see if our landlord will make some concessions that allow the business to continue.

I’m not optimistic.

The second failure has been 34 years in the making. My marriage hasn’t always been bad, but it decayed as small hurts created distance, which in turn led to greater emotional injury. And over those years, despite many successes – the greatest being our two daughters – my wife and I didn’t tend to our marriage often enough. Though my wife isn’t blameless, I bear the largest share of responsibility. I am uncomfortable engaging with emotions, so even as she would sporadically ask me to work with her, I didn’t trust her – or myself – enough to make the effort. I didn’t make conscious choices to avoid difficult discussions, but benign or not, the effect was the same. And now our differences are irreconcilable.

So my business is failing, my marriage has failed, and I am left to start again.

It’s liberating in many ways though, which is in sharp contrast to the last time I had these few commitments – when I left college about forty years ago. I don’t feel intimidated or rudderless. I can make many different choices, and I feel excited about the opportunities ahead of me. And with our assets split and the kids launched, I’ll have few encumbrances, which expands the field of possible paths.

So while I wouldn’t have chosen to be here, I am here nonetheless. And it could be worse.

Divorce

My wife and I are divorcing.

We’ve been married more than 32 years. There’s no precipitating event. No outburst. No affair. No abuse. No addictions.

So why are we divorcing?

I don’t think we’ve ever been well-suited for each other. She wears her heart on her sleeve, sharing her thoughts and feelings broadly. I am very private. She tests ideas out loud, working through her thought processes verbally. When I speak, I’ve already decided. She seeks validation, and I am parsimonious with feedback. She lives spontaneously, changing her mind frequently. I make a plan and stick to it.

Early in our marriage we invested the time to resolve our conflicts and differences. And then, as time passed, we stopped trying. Cracks developed. And, unresolved, the cracks widened into fissures, the fissures into gaps, the gaps into chasms. Dawn made more of an effort than I did to fix what was happening in our marriage, but I didn’t have the emotional awareness to deal with our problems. Or the will to find it.

And so we find ourselves after 32 years not strangers but friends.

But not more than friends either. We are divorcing amicably, as you’d expect of friends, even friends who share children.

We have wounds. We don’t trust each other with our emotional well-being. I have hurt her by rejecting her (her version); she has hurt me by not following through on commitments (my version). Both have merit. Neither is the full story. As with most things between married couples.

In spite of our wounds, we don’t harbor ill will. Or at least not enough of it to complicate our dissolution. In fact, because of lower expectations with the transition from spouses to friends our relationship has been smoother. I hope it continues. I expect that we will remain friends, though it will likely be at a distance, at least until grandchildren pull us back into the same orbit. Among our differences are weather and social preferences: she likes active social scenes and cooler weather, while my ideals are warmer temperatures and few but meaningful interactions with others. Funnily enough, I’m likely to head to colder climes while she makes a go of it in the hot valleys of northern California.

Our daughters are taking the split well. We don’t blame each other, so they don’t either. And they do love us both after all. Damaging our relationships with our daughters is a worst-case scenario, and we are thankful that at least we made a very effective parenting team.

We’ve set intentions to treat each other both kindly and fairly, and we are walking that path. We have a long distance yet to go, and there are potential stressors related to our financial situations that could still roil the waters. We have engaged professionals to help us untangle our emotional wounds, handle the legal process, and counsel us on finances, so I hope that they can help us navigate those potential pitfalls (to mix a lot of metaphors!).

In our latest session, our divorce therapist asked us how we were feeling about our divorce and to what we were saying goodbye as we split. Dawn feels the loss keenly, though she fully believes it’s the preferrable outcome. I am not sad or grief-stricken but rather optimistic that we can have a more emotionally satisfying relationship once we say goodbye to the stress and tension that marked a lot of our married interactions.

Time will, of course, tell the tale. As it always does.

But I am hopeful.

My daughters are going through the change.

Not menopause. (At least I hope not – I don’t have grandchildren yet!)

Their change is from learning to doing, from studying and practicing to working and producing. My oldest graduated college a couple years ago, my youngest will graduate in a few months. Their transition to full-time contributors to our society is going about as well as expected. Which is to say they are confused, anxious, and highly stressed.

Like most of us who have gone through it.

I don’t know that we’re failing our young people as they move from school into working, but I do think we’ve not been able to articulate a path that illuminates what will be different and how they will be able to successfully manage it. Which is weird, because the answer(s) seem simple.

First, find work that fills a deeply-felt purpose. If the goals of your work align with your values, then you can stand doing the boring stuff you’re going to have to do as the noob, because you know it moves the ball forward on things that are super important to you. And you don’t have to make a lot of money, because A) you don’t have a lot of expenses, and B) you’re not going to make a ton more money in another entry-level position this side of Wall Street. So embrace your ideals and find work that results in something that feels important to you.

Second, tend to your health. That’s health writ large. Get daily exercise. Pray. Journal your feelings. Meditate. Do puzzles. Eat regularly. And for God sakes, get enough sleep every night. When you keep your physical, intellectual, emotional and spiritual selves in balance, you can manage the ebbs and flows of your life much more capably.

Third, tend to your relationships. Your partner. Your family. Your friends. Your colleagues. Text them. Go to lunch and dinner. Have coffee or beers. Invite them over for game night. Go for a hike or a run together. Call them on their birthdays. Share what’s happening with you, and take interest in what they’re experiencing. The more vibrant your network of people is, the more enriching your life will be, and the more support you can pull from it in your times of need. And there is always times of need. When you are present for them, they will be there when you need help too.

And that’s really it.

If we helped our young people – and ourselves – concentrate on these three ubertasks, then this whole adulting thing wouldn’t be so intimidating. There’s plenty of distractions out there to dull our focus – our phones, TVs and streaming services, booze and pot and other consciousness-altering temptations – and those are among the reasons we struggle with this transtion, but I think if we could present these simple steps in a way that resonates as truth, perhaps my daughters and their peers would heed them and save themselves a lot of agony. And just maybe this transition wouldn’t feel so daunting.