Entering Age 36: Part 2- Hope and Disappointment

Every year, I like to do a post for my birthday answering the question: "You're one year older, one year wiser. What is one thing that you learned this year?" Of course, being the verbose person that I am, I always end up with more than one thing. This year, I'm going to post in multiple installments, each with one lesson from my 35th year (in no particular order). Here's the second one.

TLDR; Allow hope but embrace disappointment. Because you can't control the future and you can't control other people.

I saw a shirt once that read: "Hope is my superpower."

"Wow!" I thought. "That's SO profound. I love that. YES! For without hope, what actually IS the point?" And I resolved right then and there to always hope for a better future and allow that to inspire me in all my endeavors! 

If there is not hope for the future--whether that be hope for a quiet and comfortable retirement someday, hope for the Earth to reverse climate change, hope for world peace--then why live?

If there is no hope for change, why put in the work?

Isn't hope and change what Obama won on? If we have no hope, no dreams for the future, nothing to look forward to, then why live at all?

I mean, if you're not striving for anything, why endure the suffering that defines the human condition?

And yet. The pain of disappointment makes me question whether the hope is even worth it in the first place. Is it worth the eventual letdown to try, to dream, to hope? 

The Buddha might say to that: "Hope but with no attachment to the outcome."

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This past year, there were three specific events that I was super excited about, looking forward to, and invested in. All three of them got cancelled or did not come to fruition the way I had hoped. The reasons ranged from financial to logistical. It was a roller coaster for me. The excitement and the hope, the anticipation and the longing, the planning and the energy spent, to the realization it was not possible and the reckoning with the reality of limitations on time, energy, and money. 

I was super disappointed. I vowed, "Never again!" I was resentful. I was frustrated. I had taken the initiative and it was wasted. 

The Buddha might say: "It's about the journey, not the destination! It's about the process, not the outcome!" It's so true. And I learned a lot about the process of hope and disappointment, as well as control and flexibility, letting go and attachment. 

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Young people are known for their idealism. Their energy. Their hope. They have a talent for innovation and growth. Adults are more known for cynicism and nostalgia. 

Is disappointment and facing reality an inherent part of becoming an adult? Or is that just societal programming speaking?

My dad especially has always been very pessimistic. Maybe he was just protecting me from the disappointment of life that he knew would come?

Once I claimed agency for myself and my life in adolescence, I really took off. I did a lot of things people told me were going to be very difficult if not impossible--learning Chinese and Uyghur, playing rugby, training jiujitsu, transitioning my gender, changing my name (again), and getting a PhD by 30.

But there's also been a lot of disappointment too. Not getting a job as a professor, multiple drafts of my book getting rejected, my marriage not being all sunshine and rainbows like the honeymoon period was. 

The realization that the world was burning down literally and figuratively. That capitalism and democracy are not actually the best systems ever. That America is not free and noble like we were taught to believe. 

That, in the end, we can't save the world. And maybe shouldn't even try, lest we come off as having a savior complex. 

The realization that it's really been our ego running the show and driving the car this whole time, and we don't even know who we are or what we want to be. The we might have been living a lie this whole time. 

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Which is worse? Save yourself from disappointment and live a life devoid of hope, choosing realism and pessimism? Or allow yourself hope, but experience the gut-wrenching grief and frustration of never realizing it? Or, allow yourself hope and detach from the outcome, being flexible when plans change? Be realistic by remembering the limitations of time and money, but plan fun things knowing that we only have limited time here on Earth?

You can't control others. You can't control the future. Allow hope but embrace disappointment as part of the human condition. 

Yes, disappointment will come. Things will get cancelled. People will let us down. Plans will unravel. But maybe that’s not failure—maybe that’s life doing what life does: unfolding in its messy, uncontrollable way. And maybe being human means staying open to it anyway.

So I’ll keep hoping. Not because I expect it all to work out, but because hope keeps me alive. Hope connects me to others, to creativity, to action. And when disappointment comes—and it will—I’ll try to meet it not with too much bitterness. With the understanding that to hope is to be human. And to keep hoping, even after heartbreak, is to be brave.

Entering Age 36: Part 1- Addictions and Burnout

Every year, I like to do a post for my birthday answering the question: "You're one year older, one year wiser. What is one thing that you learned this year?" Of course, being the verbose person that I am, I always end up with more than one thing. This year, I'm going to post in multiple installments, each with one lesson from my 35th year (in no particular order). Here's the first one. 

TLDR; If you burn the candle at both ends, you will burnout. You are borrowing energy from your future self and it will catch up to you. 

When you override your instincts or your natural needs to eat and sleep, you are using a credit card with an interest rate to get the energy you need. Eventually the debt will catch up to you and you will have to pay the price, plus the interest that has built up on it. The longer you wait to pay it back, the more interest you will have to pay. That cost might come in the form of taking years off of your total life span. Or it could come in exhaustion, physical pain, injury, which could result in losing your job, hobbies, or relationships. It begs the question: is it worth it?

This borrowing of energy from your future self comes in many forms, sometimes addictive behaviors. Coffee is one mainstream example. Partying is another--whether imbibing in alcohol, indulging in drugs, or staying up too late. Workaholism, meaning that you are neglecting your mental and physical health for the sake of your job (such as staying up all night to finish a project at work) is one that society rewards. 

Taking long periods of time to rest, reset, and recuperate are beautiful and worth it and important. Depending on how much energy debt you’ve built up, this period of time to rest could mean months or years. 

On the other hand, choosing safety and rest and sleep – and the joy that comes with those things – over excitement is very fulfilling. Joy is and can be very quiet and just for yourself, though it can also be shared with others too. It doesn't have to be a late-night party or a big promotion at work. It can just be staying at home with your dog. 

For me, my addictions to work, coffee, and other types of adrenaline- or dopamine-producing activities have led to some burnout, and working through some of those addictions has been huge. 

Everyone has addictions in some form. Some are good coping strategies, some are more harmful. Which are yours and why? Having the awareness and self-compassion for those addictions goes a long way. Is it something you’re choosing to do or is it choosing you against your will? To me, that's the difference between a behavior and an addiction: consent. In my mind, if you feel like you must do something in order to survive, get through the day, or it feels like something you can't NOT do, then it might be an addiction. If it is, it might be robbing your future self from yourself, your energy, and your future joy. Eventually, you will burnout. And it might not be worth it. 

Everyone has addictions (plural!). It’s not about escaping them completely (for that can become an addiction in and of itself), but about being aware of them. It's about listening to the message that the addiction is bringing to you about you and your life. How can that awareness help you take the high road (aka, the more difficult and challenging steep path)? The one where you contribute to society without ego instead of your base instincts toward animalistic pleasures? You’re an animal but you also live in a society. What is your role in the collective at each moment? Sex (or similar pleasures including sugar), money and power are our base instincts. But does that lead to a fulfilling life? 

There’s something about surrendering to a higher Self, to a higher Good, that is even more satisfying. I'm talking about the person that picks up litter even though nobody is watching or cares or knows. Even though picking up a piece of litter won't really make a difference. The person who takes the bus because it saves on a microgram of a microgram of air pollution. The person who writes the review on Google even though you’ll never see them again. Who feels and believes and contributes as a person living in and contributing to this society. 

Is this society perfect? No. It has so many flaws as do you and I. But we’re here and we’re living in it. To feel like you’re contributing to it in some way feels good. Feels really good. To spend time with Bruno on New Year’s Eve so that he has some company during the fireworks instead of with Molly, the friend that always goes away the next morning. To empty the dishwasher. To refill the water in the chicken coop. To do yoga in the morning and work on a creative project and then go skiing because you’re not so exhausted that the next day is totally shot. To wash the solar panels because that increases their efficiency even though nobody else cares or will notice. To take the EV because it has a smaller carbon footprint even though you then have to stop and charge it. To boycott social media. To tip the delivery worker. 

Because it’s not all about you. It’s about the collective good. It’s not all about your immediate pleasures. It’s about the society we’re making and the universe that we’re all a part of. It’s not about fame, money, power, pleasure, sex, adrenaline, dopamine, serotonin. It’s about contributing in our own small ways to the universe that we’re all a part of. But it’s not the big things. It’s the small things. And they all add up. And nobody is going to tell you what to do or pat you on the back. In fact, it might be quite the opposite. People might be jealous of you or codependent with you. They might be projecting their own insecurities onto you, which might cause them to feel resentful or angry. And in the meantime, you’re going against your most basic urges and cravings that make you an animal. But there’s something bigger and better out there. But it can only be achieved through moderation and sometimes a bit of struggle and discomfort. 

But most of all, it’s about embracing the concept of only spending the energy you have and not taking out a loan and spending energy with debt. Because it will catch up to you one way or another. 

Are you using a credit card with your brain and body to buy energy that you don’t have? Or are you living within your means? And are you being present to the suffering and struggle that is life and humanity? Or are you numbing and hiding out? 

Because eventually you will reach the rock bottom of that pleasure and there will be nothing left to fill that void.

The alternative is that you can be present with that struggle. You can use contributions and quiet joy and rest and care for yourself and others to fill that hole, one shovel of dirt at a time. 

I’m not saying that it’s easy. Choosing truth over comfort might be the hardest thing I’ll ever have to do and I still feel that void and that hole all the time. But I have felt greater fulfillment and satisfaction in the smallest moments of overcoming struggle and facing my discomfort and fears head on instead of hiding and numbing out with drugs.

So, as I step into my 36th year, I’m trying to live within my energy means. I’m learning to honor rest without guilt, to find joy in the quiet, and to choose presence over escape. I’m learning to spend energy like it’s sacred, not infinite. And in doing so, I’ve discovered rest. Maybe that’s the wisdom of this year: not to reach for more, but to care more deeply for what I already have—my body, my mind, my future self, and this flawed, beautiful world we all share.

Night between Day 3 and 4 of the Vision Fast- stargazing

 In the middle of the night, I woke up hot with a dry mouth and chapped lips. I stripped off my layers and lay there for a long time. 

My chapped lips remind me of childhood because I frequently had chapped lips. It brings me right back to that place of being a kid. 

Chapped lips are about shedding the dead skin and regrowing new skin. 

Finally, I realized I needed to get up and tend to my body. I drank some water, put some of my layers back on, put my shoes on, and went to pee.

The moon was yellow, almost full, almost at the horizon, and huge in the sky. But I couldn’t fully see it because there were trees in the way. I wanted to get to a ridge where I could see it. 

I made myself some electrolyte water and packed up my emergency pack with my first-aid kit and lighter. I secured my sleeping bag and other stuff at camp so it wouldn’t blow away if the wind picked up. I got my headlamp on. 

Much to my dismay and surprise, by the time I did all that, it was already too late. The mood had fallen below the horizon and I could no longer see it. 

I walked toward where it had been. I tried getting a little higher and closer so that I could see it, but it was gone. 

I was so disappointed. 

Sometimes things don’t turn out the way we hope. Everything is temporary. 

I returned to my tarp. I moved my sleeping bag out from underneath the tarp and laid underneath the stars. The sky was so black since the moon had set that the Milky Way was clearer than I’d seen it in a long, long time. 

I saw 3 shooting stars over the course of the next few hours! 

I also saw many airplanes and satellites moving across the sky, and I wondered what the people on the planes were doing, where they were going and why. 

I meditated. 

I did one meditation where I think “filling up” on the in breath and “letting go” on the out breath. I thought of all the people in my life who I will most likely witness their death and attend their funerals in the coming years: my parents, aunts and uncles, mentors, and friends. Even Bruno. Even Brie (at some point unless I die first). Even me. 

Either they will mourn me or I will mourn them. Either way, we will have to say goodbye. 

I thought of grandpa and said “Hi” to him. 

I told my Dad I love him and thanked him for everything. Same with Mom. 

I just watched those stars and thought about how big the universe is and how small I am. 

And how small an atom is and how big I am relative to that. 

The macro and the micro. They both exist in one, big fractal pattern. 

Cancer is when the cells go haywire and the whole body - one type of universe - dies. 

So the best thing we can do in this world is to be a good cell, not a cancerous one. 

Day 3 of the Vision Fast- getting lost

I turned left, heading West, into a grove. I was so sure that I was right. But all of the sudden, everything was unrecognizable. The sun was starting to set. I was out of water and I was exhausted. I felt disoriented and not able to think clearly. I went down into a valley I thought I recognized but it wasn’t what I thought.

I took a deep breath and retraced my steps, heading back East. Finally, and luckily, I found my way back to the dirt bike path I recognized. 

I walked North toward the direction of my spot for a long time. I had a dawning realization that I had been completely off when I had turned West into that grove of trees. The correct turn towards my spot was another half-mile North up the trail. 

Finally, I got to the intersection with the cow trough that I recognized and from there I could see my tarp. I got back- sweaty, exhausted, and parched.

I once was lost but now am found. 

Home sweet home. 

It was the coming back that was so right and good. The arrival was so sweet and welcomed. It’s the coming back that’s the best part. But to come back, you must first get lost. 

I thought of my grandpa. He must have been so scared when he got lost in the car driving around Pittsburgh.  

I am a neurodiverse and integrated artist of connection

 South. 

West.

North. 

East. 

I contain multitudes.

He/they/she.

Practical Daddy Sam. 

Playful Baby Sammi.

Introverted and autistic Samuel. 

Diligent Elizabeth. 

Spiritual and creative Liz.

All are artists. All are present. All are hungry. 

Hungry for trust and affirmation.

Hungry for attention and care. 

All want to be seen, heard, valued. 

All want what is best for me. 

All want and need connection. 

Is it possible to dream a life where all of them get airtime everyday? 

I am whole. I am integrate. I am an initiated adult. 

I am creative. 

I am at the integral level, creating my life. 

Is it possible to check-in with each part each day?

Yes, my soul screams!

Yes, my heart screams!

Yes, my body screams!

My mind, exhausted, doesn't have the energy to scream. 

What do we need to let die?

To make room to what I need. 

My book. 

Drugs. 

Social media. 

Let go and let love. 

For you, for them, for us. 

Poem for Day 2 of Solo Vision Fast

 Grumble. 

Rumble. 

Uh oh. 

I race back to camp. 

Grab my TP. 

Hastily dig a hole. 

The Great Purge of Day 2. 

Brown water bursts from my asshole. 

Letting go of old ways that no longer serve.

Releasing myself. 

Earlier I spoke to Elizabeth. 

Is it okay if you take a backseat? 

Yes, I'm exhausted. 

You have so many gifts and privileges

I just want you to be seen

and appreciated

for all your hard work and self-sacrifice. 

And, besides, 

I like challenging intellectual tasks. 

Sammi Bear needs some time to play. 

I will never forget about you.

The burden, 

the weight, 

flowed out of me

and splattered on my bare feet. 

We all make messes. 

We all make mistakes. 

We all have regrets.

Flies swarmed. 

Something or someone

will always benefit from

your shit.

I cleaned up, 

washed up. 

All done. 

Purged. 

Clean.

Healthy.

Safe.

Comfortable. 

You just have to be willing to clean up your messes. 

I touched the Earth. 

Thank you for holding me.

All of me. 

The disgusting and the beautiful. 

The hope and the despair.

The dark and the light.

Poem for Brie

 Neurodiverse as shit. 

Queer as fuck. 

Society doesn't appreciate our gifts. 

Fuck society. 

You are a weaver of Worlds, 

a protector of Truth. 

You are an artist, 

creator of beauty. 

Your curly hair, 

your bright green eyes. 

Your long legs, 

and wide smile. 

You are perfect. 

You are everything and nothing. 

"To the world, you might be one person, 

but to one person, you might be the world."

I'm that one person.

You are my world. 

May we both multiply beauty and joy

with our Love now and forever.