Snow, lice, and code: How Becoming A Developer Is Teaching Me to ‘Go Towards the Pain’
Opening the door and seeing the snow completely gone, I breathed a sigh of relief. This too shall pass, I thought. This morning I woke up feeling anything but radiant, more like I had nothing left in me, not one iota of enthusiasm.
Two weeks ago I started with the February 2018 cohort at Makers Academy, which is an 12-week computer programming bootcamp in London. It takes individuals from all walks of life and no tech background and makes developers out them. Zero to coding hero in twelve weeks. Knowing this would be an intense experience, I got my life in order.
I secured great childcare — a huge stress relief as a single parent. I lined up a dance class on nights I don’t have my children — a bit of fun and something I’ve been wanting to do for some time now. I had a meal plan and chore charts mapped out for my kids. I felt ready, thought I had a good coping strategy in place.
And then life happened and it all went tits up.
The past week was more stressful than the first week which was surprising. I injured my shoulder so my dance class is on hold; my oldest came down with a case of head lice, which meant my house was turned upside down; I couldn’t make it to a parent-teacher conference; the arctic blast across Britain scrambled train service and turned my four-hour commute into six hours; what would have been my 10th wedding anniversary and marked twenty years together with my ex-husband fell during last week as well.
Needless to say, emotionally, I feel raw. The stress has brought front and the center the sheer loneliness and intensity that defines single parenting — emotions I have successfully ignored until now. I missed almost two full days as a result of the snow and lice. My mental bandwidth is low.
My kryptonite is that I seldom acknowledge when I am not OK. It is a soul-crushing behavior; bad for me and those around me. My ego projects a tough girl exterior that says, “Don’t worry, I got this” even when I don’t. And this persona was in place long before I became a single mother, which, in and of itself, will make a badass out of the meekest of women.
My ex-husband is an officer in the US Army. Being married to a US service member is all encompassing; there is no separation of personal and professional life. Spouses are heavily involved in their partner’s work and there is a lot of pressure to keep up appearances regardless of the situation. No one wants to be the spouse whose service-member is sent home because you can’t handle keeping the home fires burning while they’re off being Captain America.
One week after my then husband deployed to Afghanistan, I threw out my back. I was six months pregnant with our second baby. His boss called me and asked, “Noelle, can you handle this? You got it under control, right? Or do we need to send your husband home?” Although I couldn’t wee without someone pulling down my pants and helping me, couldn’t change my toddler’s diapers, couldn’t take decent pain meds because I was pregnant and could scarcely move, I took a deep breath and with silent tears running down my cheeks, I lied through my teeth, “Yeah, I’ve got this.”
I avoid pain like nobody’s business although it may not seem like it from the outside. I love downhill mountain biking — it’s thrilling, exciting and conjures up an image of someone who seamlessly rolls with the punches. Once a therapist told me I should do stand-up comedy. As if on autopilot, the more tense a situation, the funnier I become. Humor is an excellent defensive mechanism.
With my second baby, I opted for a 30 hour-long excruciating home birth with a poorly positioned baby when I could’ve had a lovely epidural in the hospital at any time between hours 4–27. But as a control-freak with a fear of needles and hospitals, there wasn’t a chance I was stepping foot in one if I had choice in the matter. When it comes to avoiding uncomfortable emotions, I go to extremes.
I’ve wanted to learn to code — and have been putting it off — for a while. Since my divorce last year I have wondered if I could handle the demands of a coding bootcamp with a daily four-hour commute as a single mom. I also have this deep-seated fear that I am stupid. I don’t like not having answers and not understanding. To say it feels awkward is an understatement. I don’t like not knowing where to begin. What if I never ‘get it’? What if I find out I can’t code? What if, what if, what if… The list goes on and on.
To date, many of my decisions have been based off of what I’m good at not about what challenges me.
Complacency feels safe and it can be. But it can also be a path to boredom. And I’m writing this all down and putting it here because I’ve been feigning perfection for too long; it’s exhausting. Now that I’m in this program, there’s no escaping my shortcomings and the only way forward is to move through these uncomfortable emotions. Theoretically, I understand that my power lies in the things I fear the most. In practice, confronting those fears is painful.
One of the reasons I chose Makers Academy is because of the cult-like following that Makers creates of its grads and its holistic program. Alumni who graduate from Makers Academy say it’s the best decision they’ve ever made.
Last week, one the coaches at Makers said,
“It sounds counter-intuitive, but go towards the pain. You’re going to build a new model on the ashes of your old model of learning.”
If this were a Hollywood blockbuster hit, I would be near the intro: “woman struggles” which will hopefully be followed by “woman identifies problem” and finishes with “woman rescues herself.” The great thing about life is that if you don’t get it right the first time, life will present you with another opportunity until you do get it right. Guess it’s a bit like coding.
