get happy or die tryin'

_posts/2015-11-10-choose-happiness.md

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+---
+layout: post
+title: "Choose Happiness"
+tags:
+- opinion
+- personal
+---
+
+I remember the first time that I experienced "burn out", the manifestation of
+not physical but mental exhaustion that is often alluded to but often not
+described in the tech industry. I had completed my first semester as a Computer
+Engineering student at Texas A&M and was an absolute wreck. It after dinner on
+a Friday, I had picked up some McDonald's, Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese,
+not because I liked it necessarily but because my friend Bill had told me it
+was the cheapest and most calorie dense thing on the menu. He was a junior and
+wore a calculator watch for purely practical reasons, so I trusted him on these
+sorts of matters. I finished my abomination of a meal and decided "*if I
+don't get the fuck out of this town, I'm not going come back next semester.*"
+
+
+It was probably 9pm and I threw some junk in the back of my parents' suburban
+and started driving.
+
+"**Fuck this place**"
+
+In my first semester, I had an ambitious 18 or so hours. The engineering
+program being predictably rigorous and intense. I chose two Computer Science
+courses for my first semester. Both of which concluded with a sizable group
+project, for a sizable portion of our grade and, unbeknowst to me at the
+beginning of the semester, would command a sizable amount of my time and
+effort.
+
+An excitable, passionate freshman, I ended up being grouped with a few
+sophomores in each class who couldn't construct a Java class to save their
+lives, let alone make a simple physics engine to bounce a ball from left to
+right on the screen. I being too young and too stupid to know any better,
+accepted the programming part of the project.
+
+I ended up doing the majority of the work in between my normal class and finals
+work load. Not a particularly adept programmer at this point, all of my
+evenings were consumed with two discrete projects, each meant for a group of
+four students, both being brought to completion by one frustrated, caffeine and
+nicotine fueled freshman.
+
+By the end of the week I had submitted both passably functional programs with
+source code, and went to pick up something to eat; the sheer amount oc
+Coca-Cola I had drank had left its usual acidic emptiness in my stomach.
+
+
+
+Rocketing down the Texas highway to my parents' house, a boring straight-line
+with nothing remarkable to look at. I set the cruise control at 72, the fastest
+I felt sheriffs and state troopers would let me get away with, and settled in.
+
+I was still pissed off, at my group mates, at myself, at the school, at
+everything.
+
+
+"**Fuck that place**"
+
+
+I started to get tired, being physically and mentally exhausted from the week,
+I cranked the radio. I lit a cigarette and cracked the window. The brisk
+December air opened my eyes a bit more and the cigarette gave me something to
+think about other than how much I hate everything; a generous amount of "fuck
+everything" swished around between the ears.
+
+Cigarette's done. My throat hurts, I'll leave the window cracked though, this
+will help keep me awake.
+
+
+I woke up a split second before my parents' old suburban plowed, at 72 miles
+per hour, through a 60mph speed limit sign on the right shoulder. The suburban
+exited the road at a slight angle so the speed limit sign sliced from right to
+left and took the driver's side mirror with it. Before I could react the
+suburban hit a little bluff and felt like it went airborn for a split second.
+The wheels returning to the grass, I immediately applied the brakes and slowed
+to a crawl.
+
+I returned to the shoulder and stopped. My heart racing, I don't
+think I got out of the car to inspect the damage and continued the remaining
+hour back to my parents' house. My heart racing, scared to touch cruise control
+again. I slowly pulled into the driveway, went inside to take a piss and called
+my step-dad.
+
+Terrified, upset and feeling lucky to be alive I dialed the phone.
+
+Choking back the tears, I explained what happened.
+
+I didn't really explain why it happened.
+
+----
+
+
+The second time I experienced burnout, it happened slower, over the course of
+almost a year. I likely would have recognized it sooner in the form of a large
+SUV departing the highway at near-terminal-velocity, but this time it snuck up
+on me.
+
+In 2013 the team I led executed a herculean effort and shipped a brand new
+product on brand new infrastructure. Truly a testament to the talent of
+everybody involved. We returned from Christmas break in early 2014 and were
+asked to "do it again" and ship another, even more massive, brand new product.
+Having helped build and delivery multiple products in my career, I took a deep
+breath, rolled up my sleeves and got started. Many of my coworkers did the
+same.
+
+
+Among my many flaws, is the amount at which I throw myself into my work. I
+enjoy building things, I like to ship things, I enjoy it to the point of my own
+detriment. I threw myself into this project, like so many before at this
+company. Not to say I was neglecting my marriage or my personal life but I
+simply did not stop thinking about the project that we were tasked with.
+
+"This is the most important initiative at the company right now" was said in
+various forms throughout the project lifecycle.
+
+I was commanded to build an ark, so we set out to build an ark.
+
+
+Burnout first started to show its face in interpersonal relations. I could
+continue to work, but fuck-all if I'm going to work with *that person* any
+more. Regardless of whether *that person* was the source of all my frustration,
+I mentally declared *that person* as persona non-grata and changed roles within
+the company.
+
+
+I have always had a, let's call it, pessimistic and self-deprecating sense of
+humor. Where I might point out how broken something is and say "it's funny how
+much this thing fucking sucks." Ha ha.
+
+
+As my burnout grew, the humor receeded and I ended up feeling like things
+fucking sucked **all around me**. I couldn't turn my head without noticing
+something that, whether it involved me or not, was just *wrong*. I could rattle
+off how much was broken, how badly it was broken and what a big fucking problem
+this was. Plenty of things were broken, and probably still are, but there's
+nothing constructive about such toxic negativity.
+
+
+For a variety of reasons, my new team failed. Our work had largely failed; I
+had failed. For the first time in my career I *loathed* waking up in the
+morning and coming into the office. I did not want to be there; I even took a
+day off for no other reason than to not-be-working-there and sat at home
+avoiding the inevitable.
+
+
+I went into a tail-spin. I was angry at everything, I felt like not
+only my work was being attacked but that *I* was being attacked. Don't you
+people know how important I am to this company? All the things that I've built?
+Fuck, I've interviewed most of you!
+
+
+"**Fuck this place**"
+
+
+
+I decided to leave the company, after consulting with a few people who I
+respect, and ultimately decided that I simply could not be **happy** while
+working there. Forget changing positions or moving once again within the
+company, I had so much resentment and frustration I couldn't even conceive of
+any position, even one tailor made, where I would be happy.
+
+This is when I finally recognized that I had burnt out and, despite my
+investment and belief in the company's goals, left.
+
+
+---
+
+
+A couple weeks later I found myself walking through San Francisco and I
+couldn't avoid a hoard of tourists walking towards Union Square,
+smiling and laughing, looking just pleased-as-punch to be there. I found myself
+vicariously happy with them. "Isn't this great!?" I wished I could have asked,
+about nothing in particular.
+
+
+For the first time in over a year, I wasn't angry.