I Am Not Shocked
It feels like a zit; the kind that hurts way down beneath your skin days before it makes its appearance. Now that it’s reached the surface, people are pointing at it and cringing. Or covering it with a band-aid and pretending it isn’t there and I can’t help wondering why so many didn’t feel the deep, throbbing, festering ache before it came to a head.
I am not shocked that the president didn’t disavow white supremacy. I wouldn’t have believed him if he did. I was in a state of shock from the moment he began his campaign to the day he was elected. Nothing he has said or done since has surprised me. In fact, the man is completely predictable. He is as easy to read as the back of a cereal box. What is so jarring to me is that he had enough support from voters to pull off a win. BUT HE DIDN’T WIN THE POPULAR VOTE!!!!! …I don’t care. Our system of government isn’t to blame. Had the person for whom I’d voted won the electoral vote, I would have celebrated the win and breathed a huge sigh of relief. I would be a hypocrite to say otherwise. BUT THE RUSSIANS! Yes. A foreign adversary affecting our elections by possibly spreading fake articles in order to manipulate voters is terrifying, but even more frightening is that there is such a large segment of our population who would be so easily played for fools. And an even more so arrogantly certain of the outcome that they didn’t feel the need to vote.
So now we are in a mess. He panders to his base and in doing so legitimizes their bigotry. He tosses bones to his whitewashed evangelical followers who sell out anything even remotely resembling God so they can feel good about taking a stand against abortion and the LGBTQ community, refugees or anyone they deem unworthy without having a hint of kindness, empathy or understanding. Their lukewarm condemnation of racism rings hollow and disingenuous when followed by a “but”. BUT GOD USES ALL PEOPLE! WHO ARE YOU TO JUDGE? It’s funny how I read and hear that from evangelicals now that a straight white man is in office. They were fine with judging Obama. They yelled and ranted and demanded his birth certificate. They called into question his faith, his patriotism, his very dignity. They bore false witness left and right with Hillary as well. So let’s be honest, shall we? Let’s not play games. Evangelicals believe God uses any straight white male who pays lip service to their beliefs and furthers their agenda. They appear fine with ignoring atrocities in the name of achieving their “righteous” goal. None of this is shocking. I am not shocked.
With a handful of exceptions, the rest of the Republican Party is falling right in step with our megalomaniacal president. Sure, they tweet out vague, unconvincing reprimands that half heartedly condemn racism while at the same time imploring us to “move on”. They fear Trump’s minions. After courting voters from the most ignorant and darkest pockets of the republican party for political gain, their puppets became the puppeteers. The cowards sold their party to the highest bidder by exploiting the ideas of the worst among them. I am no longer shocked by this. I am only shocked by those few brave enough to stand against it, pundits and politicians alike. John Kasich. Chris Wallace. Shepard Smith. Charles Krauthammer. John McCain. Lindsey Graham. I am grateful that there are people with whom I can disagree politically and still respect morally. If nothing else, this debacle has taught me the value of looking through the surface level politics to the deeper truths that drive them.
Here’s the thing. Nothing has changed. I was vocally and adamantly against bigotry way before this political shitshow got rolling. In 1998, I was writing editorials about removing the confederate flag from the statehouse in SC. After 9/11 we were walking in candle light vigils for the victims and urging restraint so that in our race for justice we didn’t run over the innocent. Hate isn’t new. And is it really hate or is it fear? Fear and the need to assign blame? Is THAT how we got here? With an out of control man-baby for president? And doesn’t this “divide and conquer” sound an awful lot like playing into these nationalists’ hands? This is not a new story. All I know is that this feels like a chess game and God knows that Trump does not know how to play chess.
I am not shocked. I am appalled. I am angry and disappointed and sad that such thinking is so prevalent but I am also heartened. This moment in history holds two lessons: how far we’ve come and how far we have to go. Anyone who does not recognize that America has a very real problem with systemic racism isn’t paying attention. I’ve witnessed racism and double standards on a fairly regular basis in my field of work. I have heard the thunderous silence and double edged apologies from those viewing the issue from white washed and gleaming castles on the hill; far removed from those suffering the damage. There can be no healing without genuinely acknowledging this. However, I will not spit in the face of those who fought, bled and died for the steps forward we have made. I will not dishonor their memories by minimizing their contributions.
I used to think change happened with a bang; an explosion of awareness followed by immediate action and the highly satisfying feeling of seeing the fast results of your brave action motivated by how deeply you care. I’ve grown up since then. Life and experience forced me to grow up.
Change is slow. It is not the tsunami. It is the consistent, steady drops of rain that slowly erodes the mountain. In my personal experience, it requires the willingness to make sacrifices and the quiet courage of a thousand small actions rather than the foolhardy bravery of one loud one. It requires one to move steadily forward regardless of whether or not they get the gift of seeing the results of their hard work. It is the strength to say that I am willing to work on my part of the equation as hard as I can for the rest of my life. Maybe if I do that, nothing will come of it but I am going to do all I can for as many as I can for as long as I can because life is bigger than this moment and more important than myself. As far as I can see, that is the only way to make a lasting difference. And it starts with YOU.
Note to Self
Be open. Be open to love and hope and the complexities of life. Be open to empathy and connections and different ideas from all kinds of people. Dance with diversity.
Be uncertain enough to question what you see; to question what you think you know. Any idea that you aren’t willing to examine honestly is not worth holding. Do not be afraid of authentically seeking truth. Do not be so closed to what you don’t understand. If you think you have all the answers then you are overestimating your mind and underestimating the vast mysteries of human experience. Be brave. Look at yourself honestly. Forgive yourself readily. Leave yourself room to grow.
Own your fear rather than allowing it to own you. Don’t trust anyone who says they are never afraid. They are either a fool or a liar. Without fear, we would never have to learn courage. What’s the point of a life that doesn’t require courage? That doesn’t test the limits of the human spirit? That doesn’t carve out a carefully honed piece of your soul to leave its imprint on this plane of existence long after you’re gone? As iron forges iron.
Be kind. We are all wounded. Some of us are more aware of this than others. That awareness is either a key or a curse. In your life, it has been both. The difference between niceness and kindness is depth. Anyone can be nice. Surface level pleasantries that make one appealing and acceptable in polite society. Niceness is about feeling good about you. Kindness is a different thing. Sometimes kindness isn’t the most socially acceptable statement. Sometimes it requires you being uncomfortable as you step out of your shoes and walk in another’s to try to understand life from a different perspective. Sometimes kindness is speaking a hard truth or accepting a hard truth spoken to you. It always involves empathy. It always involves patience, depth of thought, genuineness, consistency. It is often challenging. Kindness is about feeling good about others.
Be curious. Don’t be beholden to one train of thought. If you are struggling to find the answers, you are probably asking the wrong questions. Explore life, emotions, ideas. Don’t blindly follow. Don’t blindly rebel. Don’t blindly ANYTHING. Don’t get so wrapped up in the noise around you that you can’t see clearly. Don’t be a lazy thinker. Test your beliefs. Question them. Put them in different settings. Don’t be afraid of hard truths. Do seek guidance. Be cautious with trust but not closed off to it.
Embrace whimsy. Love unabashedly. Laugh from the soul. Forgive others and forgive yourself. We are all on a learning curve here. Celebrate life in all it’s pain and glory. Pay attention. Be authentic and always try to grow as you go.
Tricks of the Mind: It’s Never about the Phone Charger
I forgot my phone charger. I was on my way to work and suddenly I was a mathematician. I had thirty minutes to get there. How much gas + how much time accounting for traffic and lights and SERIOUSLY, Corey? Can you just get it together?!
I forgot my stupid phone charger. I whipped a U-turn as I gave up on the arithmetic acrobatics in my head and emotionally overreacted to a small oversight.
I forgot my damn phone charger. This. THIS is indicative of every way you fall short. It’s such a small thing to remember. You can’t even get that right and now you’re going to be late. Okay, not late but not early like you planned. That vicious inner monster whispered, picking the scab of my insecurities and gnawing at my serenity with the slow burning determination of flies on a rotting carcass. Buzzards of insanity circling eagerly and searching for a place to land.
I forgot my fucking phone charger. What if there’s an emergency? What if the woman I’m sponsoring has a crisis? What if I MISS something?! Nights are long and if I’m on a slow hall, I use my phone to write. Suddenly, despite a whole week of frustration due to a block of ideas to write about, dozens of ideas pop up. Of course, it doesn’t matter. I’ll forget them all before I have a chance to write them down. Of course my battery power is at 10%. Awesome.
I forgot my….I pulled into the nearest parking lot. A Super Eight Hotel. And I found myself digging through my purse. There! The familiar feel of a hastily wrapped wire tucked safely around the whatchamacallit that plugs into the outlet. What force inspired me to slow my roll enough to double check before driving all the way back, I do not know. I only knew that I was staring in disbelief at a device that I had completely convinced myself was still plugged into the wall on the other side of town.
I didn’t forget my phone charger. What I did was put myself through an anxiety inducing ball of crazy over a situation that did not exist in any way outside of my mind. I had an immediate emotional reaction based on a figment of my imagination and what’s crazier is that I acted on it. I raked myself over the coals and physically turned the car around in order to solve a problem that didn’t exist. I went from zero to sixty in anxiety and frustration without giving pause to the thought that I might be wrong.
And what if I HAD forgotten the damned thing? The world would not have stopped spinning because I was inconvenienced. No one would have crumbled into a thousand pieces because they couldn’t reach me for eight hours…hours, I might add, that most of the world is asleep.
It would have been fine. In the real world based on reason and experience, it would not have been a problem for me at all…ah but in my mind? In the deepest reaches of my imagination I am fully capable of convincing myself of dark situations that are make- believe; fear driven realities that are simply not true. And if I’m able to convince myself of such absurdities, how long will it be before I’m acting on them? How long before I am treating others through the lens of what I think I know? How long before I’m viewing life through a muddy and rusted screen rather that the clear glass of the unblocked window; a faulty perspective that can color my true experiences in shades it was never meant to be.
I didn’t forget my phone charger, but I’m glad that I thought I did. It was a very concrete reminder to not believe everything I think. The next time my mind decides to go off the rails and sell me on some crap that is just not true, I will remember how ridiculous I felt about hopping on the crazy train over a cord that I had in my purse the entire time.
The Whole is More than the Sum of the Parts
We need to talk.
“I’m busy”, she replies without looking up from her cluttered desk. Paint brushes, pens without caps and pieces of paper covered with scribbled half thoughts; ideas that rush from her so fast that by the time she jots them down they are practically illegible. She is resolve. She is unbridled energy. She is determination, perseverance, and passion…and often enough she is a pain in the ass.
“Get unbusy.” There was no room for argument. She recognized there would be no debating this with me.
“Between you and the kid, I can never get anything done.”
She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t realize she stands in her own way. In her quest to do everything, she wears herself down so much that she would crash and burn completely if I let her. She’s the one with something to prove. Not to others; that’s the kid’s issue to deal with, but to herself. This drive, when put to good use is a force to be reckoned with. Left unchecked, though, it could consume us all.
I crouched down so I was eye level to the little one.
“You too, kiddo. Come on.” To her, I spoke gently. She is always so afraid of anyone being angry with her that I have to tread lightly.
“Did I do something wrong?”, she asked hesitantly.
“UGHHHH I am sick to death of you asking that question. If you did, you didn’t mean it so who cares? Do you want to be defined by that? You are stronger than this!”, the woman at the desk exclaimed as she impatiently pushed back her chair to join us.
“Enough!”, I gathered the little girl onto my lap. She means well. She always means well. She is a loving, imaginative little girl full of curiosity, but she doesn’t know that. She tries so hard but believes she falls short in every way. If she were prettier, smarter, nicer, better then people wouldn’t be so angry. She doesn’t understand why the world is such a mean, scary place. What she doesn’t know is that her heart has a power of its own. She sees the best in everyone. She does not like to see people hurt. She is giving and in her own way braver than than the woman so determined to do everything; the woman who on some level hides behind being busy in order to avoid vulnerability. The kid is open and loves despite her fear. She is empathy. She is light and love. She is fear and hope wrapped in one and she too can be a pain in the ass. This heart, when put to good use has the power to heal and create. Left unchecked though, it can bog us all down in overwhelming emotion and keep us stagnant.
I love them both. I need them both, but it is time to set some boundaries. The two of them have been at odds, pulling against one another. I prefer to work behind the scenes, quietly doing my best to maximize the best traits of them both for a healthy, fulfilling if somewhat unpredictable life. Lately it’s been a bit off tune, hence this pow-wow.
“We have to make a schedule”. I did not think this would go over so well with either of them. The kid still writes her letters backwards with with crayons and the woman with the Wonder Woman complex would rather struggle than bother with anything as mundane and stifling as a “schedule”. I held back the urge to roll my eyes. SO pretentious. Still I get it. Organization is none of our strong points.
“Look. We are all running on empty. It’s no wonder the two of you have been at odds. The lack of sleep alone is enough to throw anyone off. But we’ve got a boyfriend we love dearly getting his feet on the ground, meetings, writing, painting, a full time job that requires mental acuity, friends, sponsor, sponsees and a world to try to make better. You want to do it all at the same time and you, kiddo…you want to hide from all of it. It’s been suggested that we make a schedule. I think it’s a good place to start. The three of us together can enjoy this ride if we do it right. It’s a cake walk, but first things first. We make a schedule.”
I am awareness. I am balance. I am consistency. I am calmness, focus and good sense. I don’t speak up enough. Put to good use, I am a guiding force that unites us as we live life as fully and authentically as possible. Left unchecked, I run the risk of complacency, trapping us in the useless mire of “should be’s” and cynicism.
The whole is greater than the sum of its parts. I have much greater awareness when I am in harmony with myself. There isn’t a single part of me that doesn’t recognize how far I’ve come. There isn’t a single part of me that doesn’t know that I’ve only just begun. I have no idea where my life will lead me. It’s roads have been winding, full of pitfalls and magic and colored with the rich vibrancy of unusual experience. I hope that little girl within never fully grows up. She carries with her so much fear, but also an incredible appreciation for life and love. She lives with endless curiosity and wonder. I hope I never lose the fighter either. She refuses to give up; refuses to be defined by anyone else’s standards. She is her own worst critic but she is willing to grow from obstacles. She is tough without being hard and thrives on defying odds. As for me, I’m the observer. I’m the scribe who tells the tale and I will continue to chronicle the journey as I go…and I’ll make a schedule.
Nobody’s Right if Everybody’s Wrong
There is an undercurrent of meanness in our society right now; a pettiness that cloaks itself in patriotism or self righteous indignation, depending on what side of the coin one is on. And everyone is so very certain.
I used to envy the people who walked with such certainty. They seemed to have such authority over their lives where as I question my every thought and emotion, but now I wonder if that’s been a blessing in disguise. It’s as if the whole country has been divided into two paths, both of which lead to bottomless pits and everyone is so certain of their narrow road that they don’t bother to look up.
The problem, as I see it, is twofold. First, I think people are enjoying this emotionally charged atmosphere. They are addicted to it. This is not to say both sides of this divided nation don’t have genuine concerns, but I pick up a sense of reveling in their “rebellion”. Facts don’t matter. Context, diplomacy, integrity and reason do not matter. There is no honest discourse because there is a voice for every opinion and people do not need to stretch their minds. There is no need to question yourself when you’re surrounded by people who think exactly like you, everyone congratulating each other on how very right and righteous they are, which leads directly to the second part of the problem. Somewhere along the way, it has become acceptable to treat those who think and believe differently than you as less than human. I have heard and read any number of rationalizations for this behavior but what it all basically comes down to is that age old argument of “THEY STARTED IT!”
They. Them. They’re to blame. To blame for what? Pick your poison. School shootings? Global warming? A bad economy? Flawed education system? Elder abuse? Heroin epidemic? Sexism? ANY “ism”? Let’s not look at nuanced and systemic patterns that have been threaded throughout history and work patiently to change them both on an individual and collective level through honest attempts at open communication and a genuine willingness to at least look at what’s driving the thoughts of those who hold ideas and attitudes that keep society from moving forward. Where’s the fun in that? No. Let’s belittle and shame them instead. They have it coming for being so damned stupid. It’s THEIR fault…or is it the destruction of Christian values? The socialists who would rather allow terrorists in the country than say a word against Islam? Or is it traitorous cry babies out for our guns?…it can’t be that others have a different view of what it means to be patriotic and their view of American values are different. Why bother attempting to understand people who are nothing but condemned sinners who want to take away the right to bear arms. They have it coming for being evil, un-American pussies. It’s THEIR fault. By all means, let’s continue to rip the very fabric of what makes this nation work by dumbing down complex problems in order to fit them into our shiny gift wrapped boxes of blame. Sure, eventually such thinking will destroy the best of us, but at least we will go down with our egos intact. And make no mistake, folks, someone is profiting from all this rabid anger and foaming at the mouth hysteria. And we aren’t even putting up a fight. As a country, we are take the bait every time.
Look. I get it. It’s easy to get so wrapped up in our own deeply held ideals that we view those who disagree with them as the enemy. But just because it’s easy doesn’t mean it’s right. For nearly two years, I was employed by a family who was as far from me ideologically as humanly possible. For twelve hours every shift, I was bombarded by angry, irrational talk radio pundits and then treated to my employers point of view. Every day this elderly couple received scary propaganda pamphlets screaming of terrifying possibilities quickly followed up by requests for money to help stop whatever hellish nightmare was inevitably in their future. The fear mongers certainly capitalize on their target audience. They feast on the fear of the fragile…Anyway, This couple built a successful life together, penny by penny through hard work. When my client had a catastrophic life event in the prime of her life, her husband didn’t leave her. He didn’t put her in a facility. They raised two wonderful girls. He has helped hundreds of people living with addiction find their way…my point is not only was I able to work incredibly long shifts surrounded by Fox News for two years but I came to love these people. These people who could not have been further from me ideologically; these people who’s political and social views made me want to cry and yell were still amazing people because they are more than one thing. There is so much more that makes up the fabric of a person than whether or not they voted democrat. Whether or not they believe in climate change. Ask yourself this: if I want people to care about the issues that matter, is calling them stupid a more effective way to reach them than attempting to understand why it’s not a priority for them in the first place?
So I’m going to put a challenge out there. Go to coffee or lunch with someone you know who holds beliefs vastly different than your own and talk about anything but politics or religion. Talk about movies or music or books. Talk about their kids or work or good food or art. Ask each other questions. I guarantee that you will leave the encounter with a very powerful reminder that we are all human and underneath the noise, we all bleed the same.
Enough
Enough. Three straight years of constant major changes, positive and negative have tapped me out. I have been hurting. That is okay. I’ve been taking on the emotions from other people’s decisions. That is not okay. I’ve been angry. That’s okay. I’ve been isolating. That is not okay. And how dare no one see through my forced optimism and shaky gratitude into the aching pain and fear that sits right beneath. How dare no one push through my thin claim that I’m hanging in there and see that my walls are crashing around me. How DARE they have enough faith in me to know I’ll pull through. How DARE he?! How DARE they?! How DARE…I.
Enough. Because the truth is I am in a storm right now. Raging and crying and railing on the inside; angry at everyone and every thing and I don’t like people to see me this way; this uncertain and vulnerable. I don’t like this feeling of not knowing the true from the false. Not having any answers. My most unbendable anchors from within have been shaken and my heart, which fuels every part of my life has been completely worn through and yet the world keeps spinning. Business as usual. And here I am searching for myself among the wreckage. Who is this woman in the mirror with haunted eyes and an inability to smile? Who is this woman who once swore she would never again allow such pain into her heart? Who is this woman who just doesn’t want to care about anything anymore. This can’t be me. I will not allow this to be me.
Enough. I let myself be on autopilot for a little while. Wash your face. Brush your teeth. Go to a meeting. Go to work. Wash. rinse. Repeat. The world feels grey. That doesn’t matter. I feel weighted down. That doesn’t matter either. It will pass and the future can bring what it will. For the moment, I force myself to stay in the present.
Enough. I am a writer. I am an artist. I am a caregiver. I am an advocate. I am a woman in recovery and I am a survivor. My life has been threaded with magic and whimsy, even if I can’t exactly feel it right now. I am capable of great love, humor and passion, even if I feel consumed by it at times. I am a worthy human being. Nothing can rob me of that. I am bigger than my problems. I am more than the sum total of my character defects and laying this all out there to the world for anyone else who may be struggling reminds me that I can be brave. It is the best way I know to rebel against despair. Because to hell with you, defeatism. To hell with you, self pity. You can’t have me. Not today.
Finding my Funny
“You look…ridiculous.”, I thought to myself. Sigh. It’s the striped knee socks that put the outfit over the edge. Still, I was in a desperate search for my sense of humor and if looking like a cross between a roller derby girl and a poor man’s Harley Quinn is what it took to not take myself so seriously, then I was game. I had been reading over my most recent posts for my blogs and I realized that I was one small step from writing sad obscure haikus celebrating the beauty of my pain. I may as well pop in the Cure, paint my nails as black as my soul and invest heavily in eye makeup.
It was weird! My sense of humor didn’t seem to be missing in my daily interactions with others but it has definitely been MIA from my writing for awhile now. That’s not a good sign. There are a lot of benefits that come from writing, not the least of which is it acts as an internal thermometer to measure my emotions. If my humor was missing in my posts, how long before that bled over into my day to day reality? That would be DISASTROUS! Humor is an art form! Trying too hard just ruins it. If I have to force it, I’m already losing the battle. I’d be the girl version of Carrot Top.
You guys know what doesn’t help a dry spell of humor? Obsessive fear about having a terminal case of the unfunnies. I need my sense of humor. I rely on it. I spend so much time thinking about the heavier side of life that I need the laughter as a counterweight. And what comes next?! Will I suddenly run out of ideas? Interesting conversations? DEAR GOD! AM I TO BE A HUMORLESS, EASILY OFFENDED WOMAN REDUCED TO CHIT CHAT AND SMALL TALK ABOUT THE WEATHER?! IS THAT WHAT MY FUTURE HOLDS?! In a moment of desperation for change that didn’t involve cutting my own hair this time, I put together an outfit that I thought might be cute and “carefree”…the finished product being less cute and carefree than mismatched and crazy with a hat. And that’s how a woman in her very very verrrrrry early forties went out in public dressed like she was twenty. And insane. And blind. And felt much much better for doing so.
It was as good a place as any to begin.
