I’m only sleeping

Please, don’t wake me, no, don’t shake me
Leave me where I am, I’m only sleeping.

The Beatles – I’m Only Sleeping

I’ve been feeling quite fatigued the past few months, to the point where I have an almost irresistable urge to have a nap, every single afternoon. I don’t know if I somehow fell into the European way of living after the cruise, or if I’m just getting accustomed to being an old fart.

Either way, it’s been prevalent enough that I mentioned it to my doctor, who promptly suggested a sleep study. I’ve participated in a sleep study before, but it was at least a decade ago, so I’d forgotten most of it…well, aside from the go in and sleep part.

Last night, I did the sleep study again.

The first hurdle to cross was, I had to pass at least three Tim Horton’s along the way to the sleep clinic and it seemed each one called my name just a little bit louder. I wouldn’t be lying when I told you I had the “You’ve always got time for Tim Horton’s” jingle bouncing around in my head all the way there.

I parked and headed in. There was a creepy old guy there ahead of me. How creepy? You know in those movies that take place in Transylvania or some place like that, and the hero always encounters an old woman who’s creepy and has a bad eye? The old woman from the movie Drag Me To Hell fits the bill nicely.

Not necessarily someone you wanna sleep with

Yeah, well, that was this creepy old guy, right down to the bad eye. I’m not even kidding.

When I came in, there was a TV on up in the corner, but he just sat, staring off in a different direction. Sort of toward me, but not quite. I said hi to him. He said nothing back.

Then a couple more guys showed up, not creepy, but also a solid decade or two older. So, even though I was the youngest guy there, scenarios went through my head. Creepy old guy takes over other old guys’ minds then come after the younger dude to…

I don’t even want to think about it.

The only advantage I figured I had was, he was heavier and they put him on the first floor and I was up on the second. I would have heard him tromping up the stairs.

Anyway, we hung out in the waiting room watching possibly one of the stupidest excuses for reality television show. House Hunters International. Seriously, who the hell wants to watch people go through three or four houses and pick one? Just don’t get it.

I was so happy when the staff dude came along to collect us. Then as we walked up the stairs, I saw the Tim Horton’s cup of coffee in his hand. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?” I said. He just laughed.

Because I was the first one going to bed, I was the first to get wired up.

Now, for those of you who have never done a sleep study, there’s no way to adequately describe exactly how much they wire you up for one of these things. So, instead, I took some pics:

The full frontal

The overhead shot

The under-the-chin shot (or the up-the-nostrils shot)

The right side

The wrong side

I’m electric!

To get those wires to stick to my scalp, they have to use substantial amounts of goopty-goo that’s actually conductive gel. He took one look at my stubbled face and slathered it all over my chin too. The he stuck the leads in, then glued it all down with generous helpings of tape.

I also got the tubes in the nose so they’d know if I stopped breathing. Got a couple of leads near my eyes so they could measure R.E.M. (rapid eye movement, not the band from Athens, Georgia) and more to see if I ground my teeth and more to watch for swallowing.

Are you Sarah Connor? Do you have my teddy bear?

After about a half hour of getting wired up worse than the Terminator, I got to head off and read for a while. When I was ready for bed, I just needed to let him know and that would start Round Two of the wiring procedure.

After reading for about a half hour, he was just about wiring up Guy Number Two. I let him know I was ready to be tucked in, and he said, “Okay, I’ll be there in a minute. Do you want to use the washroom one more time?” Then, he added a strong, “Please.” Not, “please?” but “please.”

He didn’t want me having to get up in the middle of the night, needing a late-night tinkle when I was wired up like a Christmas tree.

Finally, I was ready. He pulled back the covers, I laid down, then he jacked in the various leads to a couple of boxes beside the bed. then he taped a small piece to the end of my left index finger that glowed red. It would let him know how oxygenated I was. I thought it made me look like E.T.

He said he just needed to test a couple more things, and I would hear him over the speaker. He left the room, and I heard him heading downstairs. Then, after checking to see if I could hear him on the speaker, he had me lay with my eyes open, then with them closed, then looking up, then down, then up then down. Switch to looking left to right, back to left, back to right. Then breathe deeply, in and out. Then hold my breath for ten seconds. Then breathe normally. Then, not breathe, but move my stomach in and out (which took me a second or two to actually get working). Finally, I was to move my feet, first pointing my toes downward, then up, down then up.

Apparently all was well. Then it was time to sleep. Even with all these leads, I was still surprisingly mobile, and could sleep on either side. I sometimes sleep on my stomach as well, but that just wasn’t comfortable for me.

I have to say, on an average night at home, I can drop off pretty quickly. The Wife gets pissed at times, because it typically goes something like:

Me: “‘Night, honey.”

The Wife: “Night, babe.”

Me: “Love you.”

The Wife: “Love you too.”

Me: Snores.

But not last night. I started on my back and it wasn’t bad, but I usually fall asleep on my side. So I moved to my left side. That stupid tube going from nose to ear to throat was making itself known by digging into my cheek a bit. Then, of course, along come the thoughts. What if I can’t fall asleep? What if I’m up all night?

Then the dude in the room next to me started snoring. Not loud, but enough to hear it. I felt the frustration the Wife likely feels when I drop off in seconds. Bastard. I was still wide awake. Tired, but wide awake.

So, back to my back. Though it feels like I didn’t fall asleep there, I very likely did. Then I woke up again. Over to the right side. Tubes digging. Not comfortable. More discouraging thoughts. I should have read more, made myself really tired.

Back to the back.

And so on, through much of the night.

I knew wake up was around six in the morning, but being in a room with no windows, I had no idea what time it was. I had decided before going to bed that I would not use the desk clock feature on my phone, because I didn’t really want to know what time it was if I couldn’t sleep, and I’m glad I did.

But it’s interesting, because, of course, the dude watching the monitors knows exactly when I’m awake. So, when I woke up and rolled over, I heard him on the small speaker. “Good morning! Right on time. It’s 5:58. Just relax and I’ll be in soon.”

Yup, that’s me. It doesn’t matter what time I need to get up, I usually wake up a minute or two prior to the alarm going off. Good to see it still worked here as well.

He came in, unjacked me and we headed back into the room where he dewired me and handed me a small towel and facecloth to scrub some of that goopty-goo off. I went into the bathroom and, looking in the mirror, realized exactly how inadequate one little facecloth was going to be for the task.

I scrubbed it off my chin and anywhere else it was visible, then ran my hands under the water and finger-brushed my hair back. It was only 7:00 am and it was a ten-minute drive home. I had planned on grabbing a coffee on the way, but nope, it was straight home and right into the shower.

On the way out, I got an appointment card for about a month from now, when I’ll get my results. I already know what they’ll be. “You sleep fine, and if you want to get rid of that snore, lose forty pounds.”

Mark my words. In the meantime, I wait.

And now, here I sit, tired as hell. Though I can honestly say that I got wired on a Saturday night, and had to sleep it off.

Time for a nap.

Interview with a dickwad

Wow…there’s lots of stuff pissing me off lately. But none more than this:

A few days ago, my daughter got called to a job interview. Fantastic. She was very excited and spent a lot of time prepping both on her own, and with me.

A little about me. I held a position for quite a while where I would go out to universities and interview candidates for co-op roles, summer roles and permanent positions. I also helped students get ready for interviews through mock interview sessions. As well, I also did a lot of interviewing for new hires into a call centre, etc., etc., etc.

If I had to guess, I’d say I’ve done more than 3000 interviews in my time. I’ve coached many others on how to do interviews, from both sides of the table. So, I know the interview process fairly well. On top of that, the Wife has done a ton of interviewing as well. Between us, we have decades of experience.

I’ve found the biggest mistake people make is trying to anticipate the questions that could be asked. There’s millions, so don’t even try. You’ll always get zinged. You need a better process.

So, I took the Girl through the process I suggest for anyone preparing for a behavioural interview. It’s the one I’ve used for several years and it’s rarely let me down.

Step One: The Skills

The first step is to write down what you think (or, preferably what you can pull from the job description) are the top skills you’ll need in the role you’re applying for. So, as an example, communication skills, conflict negotiation, and time management. Obviously there are tons, but we’ll use these to illustrate.

Step Two: The Examples

When you’ve got a list of seven to ten, then you want to find examples for them. So, at first, just think about a time when you performed that skill amazingly well. Jot it down so you remember it. Then think of a time when you completely boned it up badly. Did you learn anything from that? Good, jot it down too. And keep doing this for each skill.  By the end, you should have 14 to 20 examples for each of those seven to ten skills.  One good and one bad.

Here’s a great side benefit to this.  Let’s say you have 14 examples.  In reality, most behavioural-based interviews probe for maybe five to seven (and that’s a long interview) skills.  Those 14 examples you have?  Those weren’t a single skill done in a vacuum.  If you had a conflict with a coworker, for example, you likely used communication skills, negotiation skills, decision making skills, possibly leadership skills…

My point is, you have 14 very flexible answers that can be used for probably 40 or 50 questions now.

Step Three: The Format

So, now you want to work them up into good, solid answers.  You’ve likely heard of the S.T.A.R. format, which stands for Situation, Task, Action, Result.  Personally, I use B.A.R. which is Background, Action, Result.  Toe-may-toes, toe-mah-toes…same difference.

Either way, you want to come up with a very short (note the emphasis) background to the example.  Next, you want a nicely detailed stack of the actions you did, and cap it off with a short result.  Notice where you’re spending most of your time…in the actions you took.  Most people make the mistake of thinking the result is the thing.  It’s not.  You’re actions are what sell you and tell the interviewer you do possess the skill they require.

Think about it.  Let’s say your example is about having to fundraise $10 000, and it was a struggle to meet that goal, but you did it.  Is the fact that you raised it as important to a prospective employer as the actions and strategies that you performed to raise it?  Right.  It’s the actions.

Step Four: Observable Behaviours

Ever had problems in an interview walking that line between sounding conceited or sounding so humble that it seems others did the tasks for you?

When you’re putting those examples together, take all emotion out of the answers (and, as a side note, any employer that asks you how you felt about something isn’t playing fair).  If you stick to observable behaviours, that is, if someone was following you around during the time of that example, what would they have seen?  Granted, you need a little leeway on that one as they wouldn’t be able to hear your thoughts through a decision making process, but that’s it.  Talk about the observable behaviours.

Keep the emotion out of it.  Keep your opinions out of it.  They have no place in an interview.

The side benefit to this?  You won’t come off sounding too cocky or too humble, because you’re relating what anyone would have seen.  Did you get a commendation?  Great, talk about it…it’s observable.

Step Five: Research

Let me ask a question here…how much time did you take researching and preparing for your last vacation?  Probably a fair amount of time, between checking out sites, reading reviews, talking to friends, etc.

How much time did you take researching the company for your last interview?

Yeah, thought so.  Here’s the deal: It’s very easy for employers to gauge how motivated you are to work for their company based on a single, simple question.  “What do you know about my company?”

I think the most pathetic answer (besides, “I don’t know anything.”) is the guy that told me he knew we had two main competitors, both of which he’d worked for, so we were “next on the list.”

The internet is a wonderful thing.  Use it to research the company.  Hell, at the very least, set up a Google Alert to deliver the information straight to your inbox.  Research at its laziest.

Step Six: Tell Me You Love Me

This is the second hardest thing to put together.  The hardest is still to come.

After you’ve done your deep dive into your skills, then a deep dive into the company, you need to be able to articulate very clearly why you want to work for the company.  The interviewer knows you’re interested, because you applied.  But now you need to be able to explain the why.

Here’s the really bad analogy I always use:

The Wife: “Do you love me?”

Me: “Yes.” (easy answer, right?  Consider this the application you sent in)

The Wife: “Why do you love me?”

And here’s the uh-oh spot for the interviewee that hasn’t thought this through.  Because many interviewers will say something like, “Tell me why my company is the right fit for you,” or, even simpler, “Why do you want to work for my company?”  See why Step Five is so important now?

Here’s why…because if I came back to the Wife and said, “I love you because you’re female, you have brown hair and nice teeth,” she is so not going to feel very secure.

And yet, the answer I mostly get is something like, “You’re a large, successful company with lots of room for growth.”  Big deal.  So is Google.  So is Facebook.  So are a lot of other companies.

Get this one right, people, it’s a dealbreaker for me.

Step Seven: Unique

This one always seems to be the toughest one to answer, and it can also be tossed out in an interview so subtly that you don’t even realize it.  Think about this…what makes you unique?  In other words, what can you say about you that very few other people can say?

It tends to be a stumper, and usually, after a few minutes of thinking, I’ll get something like, “Well, I’m a quick learner.  I know others can say that, but I really am.”

Yawn.

Here’s what you should be thinking about: think about all the experiences you’ve had at previous jobs, or through extracurriculars, or hobbies, or traveling, or volunteering, or on boards…anything.

There’s never going to be just one thing that makes you unique.  Right now, Paul McCartney can’t say, “I was a Beatle,” and be unique.  There was three other guys, and one of them is still around.

But you can build a stack of experiences up that makes you unique.  Of course you can.  Everyone can.

The interview

So this was everything I took the Girl through–no small task on her part, let me tell you–and she then went off and worked it all up into some fantastic answers.

Then she went to the interview.  Anne Rice could have written the book on it: The Interview With a Dickwad.

The guy essentially ignored her resume (though he had a copy to review when calling her, and requested another be brought to the interview), except where he wanted to refute things.

An example?  “This place is fast-paced.  I don’t think your previous job was fast-paced.”  If he would have asked a question about it, instead of passing judgement, he would have found out it was, in fact, quite fast-paced.  So he did this a few times.

He also told her he figured she’d get “tired” of driving from her home to work and back.  Yeah, ten minutes is a hell of a commute, let me tell you.

He actually berated her for her choice of schools for post-secondary education.

And then he did the unforgivable (in my book).  He took a personal call on his cell phone, cutting her off in the middle of one of her answers.

Okay, when I’m interviewing someone, no matter how well or how poorly they are doing, they are the only person that matters for the duration of the interview.  I expect that courtesy from them, I extend the same courtesy to them.

So, basically, this asshole made the Girl do this “long” commute that he thought she would soon tire of, to essentially bring her in, pass incorrect judgement on her resume, not discuss the role whatsoever, not probe or check on any of her skills, pass judgement on her education decisions, then show her that any old phone call was more important that a possible new staff member.  Seriously, he really puts the “mental” in judgmental.

Honestly, I’d love for this guy to call her and offer her the job.

Because now I’ve coached my daughter on her response and now she can be quite emphatically clear when she tells him exactly what he can do with his job, his company and his offer.

Nothing to kill or die for

Thirty-one years ago tomorrow, I was an 18-year-old moody kid.  My mother and step-father’s seemingly happy marriage was exactly 16 days from imploding, but no one knew that yet.  It was just another Tuesday to endure before looking forward to Christmas holidays.

In other words, it was a normal Tuesday morning for this teenager.  He was young for his age, naive in some ways, though he’d lived through a lot already in those short first years of his life.  More than anything, he was insecure.  He’d learned to hide it very well over the previous three years, to mask it, but it had never ever really gone away.

But at this time, things weren’t bad.  Yes, he was moody, but what teenager wasn’t to some degree?  Yes, he thought he knew everything and his parents knew little.  Yes, he thought this was one of the hardest times of his life.  It would be years before he would understand these were some of the best years of his life.

And the one thing that always got him through the worst times.  When friends let him down, when family disappointed him, when life became hard…he could always retreat to his room and put an album on.  Music was his salvation.  Music made all the bad stuff go away, even if for a little while.  Music was rebellion, it was attitude, it was confidence…it was everything he wanted to be and could be, even if it was for the duration of a three-minute song.

Music was life.

So on this Tuesday morning, the teen was, as usual, the first one up in the house, his parents both retired and usually not up for another half-hour or so.  He got up, let his dog out, had his shower, let the dog back in, fed her, then set about getting his own breakfast.

Before he poured out his cereal, he was already turning on the stereo that was set up in the dining room, already tuned to Ottawa’s CHEZ 106, the only radio station worth listening to at the time.

And the teen was delighted when he came in just as John Lennon’s “Imagine” began playing. 

The teen then set about getting his breakfast, singing along with the words, memorized years before and, as far as he was concerned, not only one of Lennon’s best songs ever, but one of the best songs by anyone, anywhere.

Then the teen sat down at the dining room table, opened a Fantastic Four comic book and had only gotten a couple of pages in by the time the song ended.  And then the DJ came on and told the teen that John Lennon was dead, that he’d been shot late the night before.

And I sat frozen, one palm flat on the table, the other holding a forgotten spoon, as the tears first welled up, then spilled over in a torrent.  I couldn’t catch my breath.  I realize now that I was having my first panic attack. 

I don’t know how long I sat there.  I don’t know how long I cried for, but it was quite a while.  Then I got up and called my brother.  He’d heard the night before so he’d had some time to process it.  We commiserated briefly, then I had to hang up.

Around then, my mother came out from her bedroom.  She saw me and immediately asked what was wrong.  Again, looking back, I’m sure she was simply relieved nothing was wrong with her son, but at the time I took her reaction as callous.  Cold.

Though I felt I could barely function, as though my brain had grown cold and sluggish, I still managed to be ready and waiting as the bus stopped to pick me up, the last student before hitting the high school.  I don’t remember what anyone else on that bus looked like.  I wasn’t seeing anything.

I also don’t remember much of that school day.  I know I drifted from class to class.  I know one of my friends, Robert, seemed as upset as I was, the two of us having discovered the Beatles around the same time.

And yes, I know some of it was the fact that I was enamored with the music of not only the Beatles, but of all four musicians’ solo work.  And some of it was my age.  I know how, from an adult perspective, it’s stupid to become so despondent over a guy who, when it comes down to it, wrote and performed music for a living and did some strange events with his strange wife.  I know all this.  Hell, I knew it then.

But my world got a little bit darker then.  It would get much darker before I began to finally see some light again, but this was like the first hint of that.  With those four words, “John Lennon is dead”, I had been led to an abyss that I had only been vaguely aware of previously, and I had been shown a first glimpse of its depths.

And my tour guide was a shitstain named Mark David Chapman.

It wasn’t just that my world got darker, it was the blossom of an idea that there were other people out there that were simply monsters in human skin.  That there were minds out there that were broken and twisted.  That there were some that would hurt you badly, and do it on purpose, and smile as they did it.

This wasn’t the world the Beatles sang of.  This was all the injustices John Lennon railed against, both in speech and in song.

This was this other world, this darker world rising up and muzzling him, shutting him out, cancelling him out.  This was the dark hating the light and swallowing it.

I couldn’t, as that teen, ever express that sudden knowledge, and the paralyzing fear that accompanied it.  I don’t think, before writing this, that I’ve ever had the words to express it.  I don’t feel I’m even doing it justice now.

All I can say is, that teen, that moody, naive, insecure, scared teen had his eyes opened a lot wider that day over three decades ago.  He didn’t like what he saw, and, for a long time afterward, he flinched and looked away, not wanting to believe what he saw.

There’s a lot of good and beauty in this world.  I know that.  But not far behind it, sitting just out of sight, but always ready to rear up and tear your heart out, there’s a lot of bad.  There’s ugliness and terror.

John Lennon fought that ugliness.  He saw it for what it was, looked it in the face and had the courage to stare it down.  To shout it down.

Even knowing that one day, it may get the better of him, he still railed at it.  To quote another singer, he kicked at the darkness til it bled daylight.

I don’t ever think we’ll see his like again.

And all these years later, right or wrong, I still miss the man.

Imagine there’s no heaven
It’s easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people living for today

Imagine there’s no countries
It isn’t hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people living life in peace

You, you may say
I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one
I hope some day you’ll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people sharing all the world

You, you may say
I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one
I hope some day you’ll join us
And the world will live as one

My baby girl’s gone

My daughter has moved out and is now on her own.  I know I’m one of millions of parents experiencing this right now, but I feel like I’m the only one.  It’s a bittersweet time for me.

I’ve talked about this in previous blogs, I know, but really this is one of the bigger events in my life (and one of the biggest in hers).  My daughter, my baby girl, is now on the path to being a responsible adult.

Over the years, I’ve watched her as she took her first, tentative steps, then learned to walk, then found that yellow brick road that turned into the information highway.  And now she takes a different road – the path of independence.

It’s hard for a parent to relinquish the reins of responsibility to someone you’ve looked after for so many years.  Part of me wants to wave to her and wish her good luck, trusting in all she’s learned, in all we’ve tried to teach and instill in her, but a bigger part of me wants to enfold her in my arms and hold on to her forever.  That’s the part that wonders how I’ll go on without her.  Yes, there’s still one more at home, three years away from his own journey, and somehow I think (but I don’t really believe) that I’ll be more prepared for it next time.

It’s a tough time to be a parent.  I don’t like this part at all, no matter how much I understand it’s a necessary part of life.

I’ve caught myself, over the past couple of months giving her words of wisdom.  Sometimes I think it was my last-ditch attempts to fill in any knowledge gaps that may be there, but more often it just seemed to come up naturally because of the new situations she was finding herself in.  What have I been telling her?

Go with your gut.  Having said that, I do feel the need to qualify it.  My daughter’s always shown extraordinary skill in making the right decisions.  She’s usually been able to objectively see the consequences of her actions.  I know many others don’t do that well in the decision-making department, but she’s been very good.  So I have no concerns with telling her to listen to her gut.  It’s never really lead her astray yet.

It’s okay to fail sometimes.  Nothing worth having comes easy and sometimes it doesn’t come at all.  But it doesn’t mean you ever give up trying.  When you fail, look at what happened, figure out what you did wrong, and try not to repeat it.  It doesn’t mean you won’t screw it up some other way next time, but that’s okay too.  As long as you learn from your mistakes, you’ll do fine.

Don’t ever settle.  Whether it’s a relationship or a job or anything, don’t settle.  Go for what you want or what you need.  Of course, you have to know your limitations so you don’t live above your means, so you don’t get yourself in over your head.  The thing to remember is: Good is the enemy of great.  That is, if you settle for good, you’ll never get to great.

Life isn’t like high school…thank God.  You’ve seen them, the cool ones, the superstars of high school, the ones everyone admired, either secretly or openly.  And while many will go on to successful lives, many others will soon realize they peaked at 17.  High school is a fishbowl.  Life is an ocean.  Trust me, you want to live in the ocean.

Not everyone will live up to your standards.  This was a hard lesson for me to learn, and it took someone else telling me.  I can still remember my director telling me that I had high standards for myself and that I tended to impart those same high standards on others, expecting them to perform at the level I wanted them to, instead of the level they wanted to.  She told me I “Tobinized” them.  It was a completely accurate observation and one I’ve never forgotten, though I’m still quilty of doing it quite often.  It’s a hard thing to look at someone else and realize they are quite happy to be mediocre.  It’s even harder to accept it.  But you have to.  Just like you have to accept that there are others you look at you and believe you are settling for mediocrity as well when compared to them.

Don’t sell your dreams for small desires.  Very much in line with the last one, and completely stolen from a lyric from Rush’s Subdivisions.

Some will sell their dreams for small desires
Or lose the race to rats
Get caught in ticking traps
And start to dream of somewhere
To relax their restless flight

I don’t ever want my kids to wonder “what if?”  I want them to grab life in both hands and wrestle every last drop of satisfaction from it.  I don’t want to see them doing what I see some of their friends doing.  Having dreams and ambitions that get smaller and smaller over time until they’re just  a shadow of their former glory.  Again, I’ve seen my daughter set goals and achieve them, never settling for less.  I hope that never changes.

If you’re comfortable, you’re not learning.  A big one for me.  Everyone seems to strive to reach a point where they are comfortable, where everything just moves along at a nice, even pace.  If that’s the case, then there is no challenge, no learning happening.  And if that’s the case, it’s time to move on, because if you’re not learning, you’re not growing.  And if you’re not growing, you’re already dying.

No one has all the answers.  Not God, not Buddha.  Not Deepak Chopra, not Oprah.  Not Dr. Phil, not Charlie Sheen.  Not Bob Marley, not John Lennon.  Not you and not me.  You can learn a little from anyone, be it something that’s important to remember, or something that you don’t ever want to experience again.  No one gave me the instruction manual when it came to raising kids, but we did the best we could.  But we made a ton of mistakes along the way, and will continue to do so.  We as parents don’t know everything.  But I’ll give you all I know.

Sometimes you just have to learn it the hard way.  God knows I have.  And with every generation, there’s the burning need to figure out their own answers, rather than draw on the experience of those who came before.  While it can result in a lot more wasted time, sometimes it’s the best learning.  And there’s nothing wrong with that.

When you’re young, you know it all and have all the answers (or a goodly portion of them), but as you get older, you understand how much you really don’t know.  That’s called maturity.  It can take a long time to get there.  Some never make it.  Stay away from them.

You’ll say you won’t do as your parents did, then you’ll end up doing it anyway.  Why?  Because we don’t have that instruction manual, and because sometimes it’s just the best way.  And I know, I know you often don’t understand why we did some of the things we did, or said the things we said, or made the decisions we made.  But someday, when you have kids of you’re own, I hope you’ll look back with a little more understanding.  And you’ll know we did it out of wanting to do right by you and we did it out of love.

Don’t make things more complicated than they need to be.  You never eat a full meal all in one bite.  You cut it up and break it down into small, chewable chunks.  Do that for anything that seems overwhelming to you.  And don’t make them into even bigger issues by getting freaked out, because then you have to not only deal with the issue, but also with the freak-out.

Don’t let others get to you.  If you do, then you’ve given them the power.  You should always have the power over yourself, not someone else.

Do your best to be as honest as you can be.  You may not be able to be honest in everything, but strive for it as often as you can.  It makes things so much less complicated.

And so, my daughter starts out on the path that will allow her to determine her own future.  We’ve done what we can and now we’ll cut most of the strings.  Not all of them, never all of them.  But as we hugged her goodbye this afternoon, I was fine, completely fine, until she pulled back and looked at me with that sweet, beautiful face and those innocent yet knowing eyes.  And that’s when I felt a lot of those strings breaking.  And some of my heart with them.  That’s when I started to cry.  Didn’t want to do it in front of her, couldn’t help myself.

Okay, enough of the maudlin!

Madison, we’ll always be there for you.  If nothing else, know that we’re incredibly proud of you, we’re in awe of what you’ve accomplished so far, and that, above all else, we love you more than anything.

And in the end
The love you take
Is equal to the love you make.

And baby?  I can’t wait to see what happens next.

Because you’re gonna do great.

I love you, baby girl.