The False Belief of Persecution

WARNING: I'm about to be political because I can't separate my politics from my beliefs and point of view. There may also be swearing. Skip this post if you want. I won't judge.

In a previous post I talked about misogyny and it's role in the 2016 election. Misogyny is one of the reasons that is thrown up as a reason why some of the people I know voted for our current POTUS. As I stated in that post, the reasons are more varied than these three, but these are the three reasons I have heard in almost every conversation I have had. To recap these reasons are:

• Misogyny 
• Perceived persecution against Christians
• Illegal immigration

Today I'm going to try to tackle this perceived notion that predominantly white evangelical Christians in the United States, are being persecuted. I don't think I'll change any minds, for those who believe they are being persecuted do so with fervor and not many will be swayed from their belief. I'm not trying to be derogatory. When a person's belief is linked deeply to a person's identity and sense of self it can be difficult to confront that belief because to do so can be perceived as a loss of self.  If I am not my belief, then I am nothing.

That said, I've been hearing the message of Christian persecution since I was a kid living in Western Canada. I've had to parse out what this means because when I look at the USA I don't see the persecution of Christians. Let's start with a definition of persecution. According to Merriam-Webster's online dictionary to persecute is :

[to] harass or punish in a manner designed to injure, grieve, or afflict; specifically to cause to suffer because of belief.  Merriam-Webster

This definition is really specific - to cause to suffer because of belief. There are Christians in this world who suffer because of what they belief, but Christians in North America are not among them. We aren't in danger of losing our jobs. We aren't in danger of being rounded up and being imprisoned. We aren't being harassed on the street for being Christians. We aren't being forced to renounce our faith. Our lives are not in danger. Our places of worship aren't about to be burned down because we are Christians, despite what people may believe was the motivating factors in the tragic mass shooting in Charleston, SC in 2015. (which was race related, in case you were wondering.)

What some Christians are experiencing is pushback. And why is there pushback? While I'm sure there are many reasons, the one that stands out to me is this habit of certain groups of Christians to want to impose their beliefs on everyone and to legislate morality. To create a Christian state instead of keeping a separation of church and state. Nothing illustrates this more clearly than these two things:  the fight for and against marriage equality, and the desire to legislate what a woman can and cannot do with her body. For this post I'm going to focus on the former.

According to Time magazine, while the Supreme Court ruled for marriage equality, making gay marriage legal in all 50 states, there are states that are retaliating by trying to passing religious freedom acts that, in some cases, discriminate against LGBTQA+ couples when they apply for adoption services, or try to find someone to officiate their wedding. Or even finding somewhere to hold their wedding. Cater it. In Kansas a freedom of religion bill was passed that discriminates against college/university students and their right to take any type of action against any religious student associations that reject them as members or deny them the use of meeting space. The legislation doesn't differentiate between those higher ed institutions that are subsidized by tax dollars and those that are private. This is important so remember this.

The LGBTQA+ community is pushing back. In Colorado there is an ongoing court case between a gay couple and a Christian baker who refused to sell them a wedding cake. This case made it all the way to the Supreme Court, but the Department of Justice has already come down on the side of the baker. You can read the article for the details, or review the court documents from the original case. What this boils down to is a Christian denied services to a gay couple on the grounds that making them a wedding cake would go against his moral beliefs. He discriminated against the gay couple. Because they are gay.

Christians have been weighing in on this case since this made news back in 2012. And what several conservative Christian leaders have said is that the baker is not in the wrong. The state is in the wrong to try to force the baker to go against his religious beliefs. I've read the phrase reverse discrimination. I've heard people say this is a violation of the baker's rights. But what about the rights of this couple? Isn't the baker openly discriminating against them because they are gay?

Other examples I've been given as proof of persecution are things such as the removal of prayer from public schools and the removal of Christian icons from state buildings. And I shake my head every time. Why? Because public schools, courthouses, state capitals, and other public spaces are paid for by taxpayer dollars. Which means it falls under the separation of church and state. Either we remove all religious symbols and activities from such spaces or we allow religious symbols and activities from all religions and belief systems in these spaces. Including Muslim, Wiccan, Pagan, Hindi, Native, even Atheistic.

Push back. This case, and all the other cases where states are trying to block LGBTQA+ rights, we are seeing push back by people who want the same rights as every cis* heterosexual person or couple in this country. The right to adopt and raise children. The right to marry and form a family. The right to not have to worry about discrimination on the job, at school, in the streets. The rights we take for granted. Rights that various Christians would continue to deny because their interpretation of the Bible and of God's will is that everyone be heterosexual and maintain the gender they were assigned at birth.

Christians aren't being persecuted. Christianity has been the dominant religion in this country for a very long time. And yet this country was founded on the separation of church and state as well as freedom of religion. This country has come to represent equality, a concept we seem to continue to miss the mark on. Either we treat everyone equally or we don't. Either everyone is allowed to practice their religion without fear or retribution, or no one is.

The older I get, the more I really wonder if certain groups of Christians are too literal in their belief in the Bible, and if that literalism is creating a culture of fear that requires a belief in persecution in order to exist. Maybe. Or maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm naive and a heretic for even thinking these things.

Either way, I'm okay with being the person who questions these things and who sees people as good and worthy as love now because that's how God created them. Not as people who need to be saved. But that's a post for another day.

*cis refers to cisgender

Gratitudes:

1. Gluten free sourdough bread. If only I could figure out how to make it for myself. 
2. Thug Kitchen. To quote their website: We’re the only website dedicated to verbally abusing you into a healthier diet. That's where the Internet bus driver just dropped your ass off.
3. ZZ Ward. Her music is the perfect soundtrack for my current book.

Photo by Fiona Moore via Flickr (CC BY-NC-ND 2.0) 

Of Systemic Misogyny and Politics

WARNING: I'm about to be political because I can't separate my politics from my beliefs and point of view. There may also be swearing. Skip this post if you want. I won't judge.

I've had some interesting conversations with people lately where the conversation has turned to the 2016 presidential election and why they voted for the current President of the United States (POTUS). I'm going to be honest, the election was brutal and I see a lot of fall out, know many people who are scared they are going to lose basic civil and/or human rights. Who have known this country I currently call home was built on racism and marginalization and the roots of this have never been dealt with. Who are not surprised when racism and Islamomisia and homomisia stepped out of the shadows and into every day life as though we were thrown back into the 50s. I wrote about these things in this post. Today is for a slightly different post.

When I have had these conversations a few things always bubble up:

• Misogyny 
• Perceived persecution against Christians
• Illegal immigration

These are not the only reasons some of the people I know voted for POTUS. They are the reasons I've heard over and over again. These have been gnawing on me, poking at my spirit until I couldn't contain it any longer and this post came spilling out. I'm going to try to organize my thoughts, for myself and for you, my reader. So I'm going to break this into three different posts. 

First, misogyny. If you look in any dictionary you will see a simple and yet complex definition which basically states misogyny is a hatred of women. Men can hate women. Women can hate women. Nonbinary people can hate women. It's a systemic result of a culture and society that is based on patriarchy, which is basically a society where men have ultimate power. The USA is based upon a patriarchal societal and political system. 

I'm not going to go into a historical breakdown of how governmental, social, and religious systems have evolved to create an environment where this is normalized, nor am I going to go into all the ways women have fought to change these very systems. What I am going to try to do is give you something to consider and think about. 

When men make the rules they get to make them in such a way that benefits them first. They may not be consciously thinking they want to treat women like second class citizens, but it's often what happens. Why? Systemic misogyny and social conditioning. Think about it. How many women are in positions of leadership in your religious institution? How many are making decisions that impact everyone, not just women's or children's ministries? How many women represent your congressional district or state at the state and federal levels of Congress? How many women are in positions of leadership and make policy decisions where you work? 

Growing up who made most of the decisions in your home? At school how many girls were encouraged to take STEM courses? How many boys were encouraged to take traditionally female courses like home economics? If you are a gamer, how many women do you game with? 

When you're together with the "guys" what type of language do you use? Do you mock women? Is the language you use when referring to women language you wouldn't use if a woman was present with you? Do you tantalize with tales of sexual exploits? Do you use terms such as pussy as a put down toward men? Are you aware this type of speech is derogatory and actually puts down women? 

If you identify as female are you competitive around other women? Do you judge women who are different than you as being less? Do you consider women who choose to not have children as not living up to their biological imperative? Have you engaged in "mean girl" behavior? Do you believe that women have no place in leadership? In the sciences? Sports? When you are out with your female friends does conversation often turn to tearing down a fellow woman of your mutual acquaintance? 

If you're a parent, do you treat your daughters and sons differently? Do you tease your daughters about being sensitive (or your sons for that matter)? Do you tell your sons to man up, that real men don't cry, don't throw like girls, aren't sensitive? Do you encourage all your children to learn more about the things that interest them, even if these things aren't traditionally male or female dominated? Do you teach your sons how to sew, cook, and clean, empathize? Do you teach your daughters how to change their oil, do yard work, build things? Do you divide chores along more traditional gender lines? If your daughters are athletically included, to you encourage them to play sports? If your sons are artistically inclined, do you encourage them in the arts? 

When women shares stories of sexual harassment or assault, do you point out ways she contributed to her own assault? Do you laugh it off? Do you wave of predatory male behavior as boys being boys? Do you wittingly (or unwittingly) teach boys that no doesn't really mean no? That women really mean try harder? That male aggression in relationships is appropriate? 

Do you believe that a woman does not have what it takes to lead a country? That a man, no matter his character, would be a better fit than a woman because a man would be able to make the difficult decisions without emotion or sentimentality? 

You may want to think about your answers and the beliefs behind them. Especially any beliefs that seem to place inequality between men and women. Or make women seem less somehow than men. Are these beliefs you have because it's always been that way? Because it's what you've been taught at home, at school, by your religious leaders? If the answer to this is yes, congratulations, you've just uncovered some systemic misogyny. And now that you're aware of this, you can do the work of soul searching and research to determine if these are beliefs worth holding. 

How is this playing out in light of the 2016 election? Many men and women voted for a man who had never held political office before in his life over a woman who, politically speaking, was far more qualified for the office of president. The reasons for this are varied - racism, fear, misogyny, greed, to name a few. But misogyny did play a part. 

The other way we are seeing this play out is with the ACA health care repeal bill. Don't believe me, check pages 196 to 209 of the Congressional Record for the latest Senate amendment to the proposed bill H.R. 1629 - American Health Care Act of 2017, submitted on 9/13/2017 by Senators Cassidy and Graham. If you're able to slog through both the bill and the latest proposed amendment (which I believe was voted down by the Senate), and if you've read the latest executive action you'll notice that a woman's right to birth control to be covered by health insurance provided by her employer is at risk. You'll also notice that there are broad restrictions proposed for reproductive health. Specifically female reproductive health.  

Birth control, maternity care, new born care, the ability to use Medicaid to cover family planning and reproductive health services at Planned Parenthood (which does not and never has included abortion). Notice that these directly impact people who have a uterus? To some degree this impacts anyone who may have children, male, female, nonbinary. But by and large if you have a working uterus these impact you. Why? Some have said it's because not everyone should have to subsidize another person's birth control. Some have said it's because these types of services impose upon their religious beliefs. 

To the first I say, you have no idea how insurance works. We all pay into the insurance pool. This is how it works for homeowner's insurance, renter's insurance, auto insurance. We all pay our premiums and we all hope we don't have to use our coverage to cover an accident or a fire. Someone will need to use the monies paid into the insurance pools, and we hope to god it's not us. So just because you're a sixty year old man who is no longer planning on having children doesn't mean you don't have to pay into a pool that covers individuals who are using birth control for family planning or to regulate health issues. If that were the case, I would want to opt out of paying for your erectile dysfunction medication. No one ever died because he couldn't have an erection, after all.

To the second I say it's more complicated than imposing upon your beliefs. We live in a social system and it is to everyone's best interests that everyone within this system be given access to what they need to be healthy. This means offering the broadest health coverage that can be offered. And educating yourself on the medical benefits as well as societal benefits of these types of services. For example, birth control is used for treating severe acne, regulating menstrual flow, treating health conditions such as PCOS and endometriosis. Access to birth control can lead to fewer unwanted pregnancies and better quality of life for women and nonbinary people who live in poverty. 

Also, did you know that there wasn't a single woman or nonbinary individual on the committees in the House and Senate who wrote the new healthcare bill and who penned the current amendment? Not one single woman or nonbinary individual who has a uterus. Our health care decisions are being made by men. And the message I walk away with is that women matter less. This may not be their intent, but that's what's being perceived. Because if men and women were truly equal in all ways there would be an equal number women to men involved in making policies that impact all people. There would be no need to debate which services should be mandatory in health care coverage because services that impact women would be just as important to the the services that impact men, that impact nonbinary people. 

These are all symptoms of systemic misogyny. I'm not immune to my own internalized misogyny and have had to take years to unpack my beliefs. Am still unpacking my beliefs and values in light of what I learn. I know this, however, for politicians to serve everyone in this nation equally, systemic misogyny needs to be routed out and replaced with true equality. We aren't there yet. I thought we might be getting close but now, not so much.  

Gratitudes:

1. Timothy Omundson for his amazing acting, dancing, and singing. I watched two seasons of Galavant just to hear you sing!
2. The quiet in the house right now. The only sounds I hear are the furnace and the clack of the keyboard as I write this post and the stillness and quiet is like oxygen to a starving soul.
3. Unexpected gifts, be they words, pictures, tokens, time. I am honored every time I receive one. 

Photo by elenghan via Flickr (CC by 2.0)

In Which I Have PRIDE

I've been thinking about combining this blog with my blog on my author website, but I hesitate to combine the two because, well, I rather like the title of this blog. And the fact that I can blog about whatever I feel like, not just things I think will appeal to readers or fellow writers. 

It's PRIDE month and that causes me to think about the various spiritual leaders and teachers I've had in my life and how being LBGTQIA+ was viewed as a sin. A bad thing. Something people need to be saved from. 

I have so many LGBTQIA+ friends and acquaintances in my life and when I look at each and every one of them I don't see sinful or bad or people who need to be saved. I see compassionate, caring, and amazing people. I see my friends. I see people who are just like me. I see glimpses of God. 

It feels as though there is this belief within certain Christian sects where it seems they get to pick and choose who benefits from the great commandment. Specifically loving their neighbour as themselves. Our neighbours are not just the people who live down the street. Our neighbours are the rest of the human race. If it was important enough for Jesus to paraphrase Leviticus 19:17-18, then I think it's important enough for us to take it seriously. 

We need to love ourselves. We need to love our neighbours. Do we do that by telling our neighbours they are sinful and wrong and in danger of going to hell if they don't stop loving the people they love? I don't think so. I think we show people we love them by showing them compassion, but not judging, by not worrying about whether they are hell bound or not. It's not our call, and if we spent less time worrying about hell maybe we could spend more time worrying about the dignity and welfare of other people. More time getting to know people as just...people. More time seeing the beauty that resides within them. 

It's PRIDE month and all month I've celebrated with joyful exuberance my friends who are LGBTQIA+. And I have been angered by the machinations of those who will not see these amazing people as people worthy of the same civil and human rights as any straight person in this country has just because they are straight. I love my friends. They are not less. They are not sinning. They are not somehow broken. They deserve a world where they can be exactly who they are without fear of recrimination. Or worse. 

I haven't believed that God is displeased with the LGBTQIA+ community for a long time. I don't know if I ever believed it. As PRIDE month comes to a close all I can believe is that God loves people in all our messy glory. And so should we. 

Gratitudes:

1. Iced tea, refreshing on a hot day.
2. The cooler summer weather.
3. Opportunities that seem to come out of nowhere.

Photo by Mattia Belletti via Flickr (CC BY 2.0)

Ups and Downs and Loneliness

Gratitudes:

1. Good friends who always seem to recommend the right books at the right times.
2. Tea Runners subscription tea service because OMG THIS TEA IS AMAZING PEOPLE!
3. Ylang Ylang essential oil diffusing through my house.

I'm gonna be honest, I've had a lot of ups and downs lately. Some of it I blame on the weather and the stupid ass spring we've been having. March was warm like April. April was by turns hot and cool with rain. May, I don't even want to talk about it. 

While I can use weather as a gauge for how intense my pain and/or brain fog will be, weather isn't the only thing that can cause me to flare. Here is a short list of other things that contribute:

• Eating foods known to have inflammatory properties such as the nightshade fruit and veggies, dairy, gluten/wheat, sugar, artificial sweetener, etc. 
• Stress. Any type of stress. 
• Over exerting myself. 
• Sunshine. I'm basically allergic to sunshine thanks to some of the meds I'm on, so spending time in the sun wears me out and can make me feel sick.
• Poor quality sleep.

The worst thing about all of this? The fact that making plans to see people must be tentative or last minute. So I spend a lot of time in the house with Velcro Dog, practically counting the minutes until A gets home. It's lonely. I feel like I've lost people in my life because of this. Or, I feel as though I'm now THAT person who always cancels last minute and if I'm going to get together with someone it's going to be because I reach out first. 

It's exhausting being the person to reach out. You know this. I know you do. You have people in your lives who you wouldn't see unless you reach out time and time again. Sometimes you sit and wonder if it's worth continuing to reach out. And sometimes the answer is no, it's not worth it. 

I'm not judging anyone or looking for sympathy. We all have people in our lives who are THOSE people. Sometimes we are THOSE people. We all have to take care of ourselves, and sometimes that means letting some relationships fade. 

That said, if you know someone who has physical or mental health issues that make it difficult for that person to get out and be with people, maybe shoot them a text to see how they are doing. Send them an email. Reach out via Facebook. Reaching out doesn't need to infer getting together. It's asking how someone is doing and meaning that you truly want to know. And listening.  

I'm writing this to myself as much as to the world at large. I haven't been the best at reaching out much at all this year in general. Whether it's because I'm just tired of the whole dance or whether it's because it's been a crappy year so far and I'm not in the best headspace most of the time, I don't know. What I do know is that by not reaching out to people I genuinely care about I'm part of my own problem. 

Well, if you've made it this far, thanks for sticking with this post. It's not my most cohesive writing. And I'm seriously NOT looking for sympathy. I'm a big girl. I'll figure my life out. It's more a friendly reminder that sometimes there are real reasons for people to be less active, or to seem to fall off the face of the earth. And this doesn't mean they are upset with you or have become hermits. So if someone crosses your mind, reach out. Let them know you miss them, that you're thinking of them. And if you're feeling it, ask them if there is anything you can do to help. Of if they would like some company. 

This has been an incoherent rant by Naomi, sponsored by Insomnia. When you want to feel really bad about yourself, choose Insomnia. The better self-confidence inhibitor!

Photo by Danilo Virotta via Flickr (CC Atribution-Sharealike 2.0)

When Grief is Messy

Warning: if you are family, you may want to stop reading. I love you all, but I needed a place to process, and maybe my process will help others. 

In July we visited family in Victoria, British Columbia. Which is one of the most gorgeous spots in all of Canada. I admit I'm biased because I am Canadian, even if I'm living in the USA. The trip was not for pleasure, though there was much to enjoy. No, this trip was because of the death of my last living grandparent. My grandmother. My mother's mother. A woman who is part of my earliest memories. Memories that I now know were the foundation for some of my neuroses.

I want to say I had a good relationship with her, but honestly, we never connected. She was critical and wanted different things from me than I wanted from myself. She was verbally abusive. She had done a number on my mother. How do I know this? My mom would become this pale shadow of herself whenever Grandma was around. I think I hated the woman because of all the times she reduced my mother to tears. I think the child in me lost some respect for my mother for all the times she wasn't strong.

The adult me knows that trauma untreated will not heal true.  When a broken bone isn't set, it doesn't heal properly. Even if set properly, the healed bone will always be different than if it had never been through the trauma of a break. We are like that. If we are emotionally battered down until we stop seeing ourselves and see only the thing our abuser wants us to see, we are like that broken bone. Even if we get out from under the situation, unless we go through the work to release ourselves from the trauma, we will never be reset. We will live as though the trauma is happening to us right now.

I'm writing this at 3:30 in the morning, otherwise I would take the time to find references for the above paragraph. Please let it be enough to know that I was a therapist for a time, and continue to keep updated with the latest in psychology. And trauma is an area I am very familiar with.

My grandmother had good points. She had a dry sense of humor. She took family seriously. She took on the task of taking care of my grandfather, who she loved fiercely. I don't have a memory where Grandpa wasn't in need of some form of care or pain management. She did that because she loved him. She was the primary caregiver for her mother when Alzheimers stole her independence along with her mind. She worked hard.

But that wasn't enough to erase her cruel side. The side that told a four year old me that I was never going to be good enough. The side that made sure that when my brother and I spoke of our dreams for a future, she would shoot them down, telling us we had champagne taste on a beer budget. Translation: we were over reaching our status. We were from working class people and we would always be working class people. Which is partially true. Dad was a blue collar worker. But who tells children to dream small because life is small?

When I was fifteen or sixteen, I spent two weeks with Grandma and Grandpa. I took the bus to Victoria, rode the ferry from Vancouver on my own. It was a fabulous trip! I loved the adventure. And I tried to be a good guest. I kept my room clean. I helped with meals and dishes. I tried to be small enough that Grandma's cruel side wouldn't notice me. It worked until the day I wore shorts. Then I got the lecture on how by the act of wearing shorts I was sending a message to all males that I want to be raped. I shook my head, it was just Grandma, after all. But something in me started to feel ashamed of my body. Scared that maybe I was responsible for what others think and feel about my presence. Add this to the script of "You're not good enough" and we have a recipe for confusion and years of not believing I was worth anything good that came into my life. All good things were suspect.

It was after this that there was an outward change. In all the pictures taken after that visit I am not smiling, knowing the world is one huge adventure waiting to explore. Instead, I'm withdrawn, even frowning. I didn't want to be near Grandma. Deep down I knew she was toxic for me. But I didn't have the vocabulary to explain this to any one. And therapy wasn't on my radar until college.

I cut the ties after my high school graduation. I wore this beautiful dress that my mom's friend made for me. It was strapless and amazing. I felt like a heroine from a novel when I put it on. I never wanted to take it off. When I stepped into our living room to show my grandparents my dress, she sneered and told me I looked like a slut. What should have been an amazing day became one of the most horrible days in my life. And I told Grandma that other than visits with mom and dad I was done. I was eighteen.

These examples aren't meant to vilify. They are only to illustrate my relationship with Grandma. I eventually started therapy. Got my MS in Psychology. Worked with trauma survivors. Had more therapy. I needed to take out the thorns that were festering in my soul and my psyche, then I had to do the hard work of healing. I'm not all the way there yet. Trauma changes a person. Abuse leaves it's mark. Our experiences become a part of our DNA. They leave us changed from who we might have been.

I left Victoria and my family with mixed feelings. Relief. Sadness. Anger. I was relieved that her suffering was over and her spirit had moved on to somewhere that could heal the trauma and pain she could not, or would not, heal in life. Relieved because maybe in death the stranglehold she had on her daughters would end, so they could breathe and live and heal. Sad because all around my family were the fingerprints of her - the good and the bad. Angry because she never extended to me the type of relationship she extended to younger cousins. She never showed that side of herself to me. Even two years ago when I saw her last, she didn't talk to me without the side of her personality that was critical and cruel.

Maybe some of that is on me. I cut her out of my life because I couldn't grow as a person with her still in it. I hated the pieces of her that were sharp and quick to cut. I loved the parts of her that were wry and loyal. I was sad for the parts of her that were damaged and bleeding.

Maybe it hurt so much when her china went to a younger cousin because I was the oldest and she had told me she would pass it down to the oldest. But I had walked away and my cousin had not.

Maybe it hurt so much when at her funeral I was introduced to this caring, tender woman, a woman I didn't recognize because whatever tenderness she may have shown me was buried under the tsunami of judgement.

Maybe being the oldest grandchild is a lot like being the oldest child, and Grandma made her mistakes with me so she could be a better grandmother to others.

Maybe I reminded her too much of the self she lost along the way. Or maybe not.

It's messy, saying goodbye to someone who has hurt you. It's tricky walking the line between utter relief and compassion for those who are grieving more deeply than myself. My grief is less the loss of a person who's love and light embraced me, and more an ability to finally take a breath. How do you explain that to family? I don't know. If you have the answer, please let me know.

Gratitudes:

1. The wisdom living brings. 
2. My husband, who walks with me, even when I drag him through the messiness of life.
3. The stillness of night. 

Photo by x1klima

In Being Flawed

Do you know what I love about movies like Bad Moms? It's about flawed people trying to do the best they can. Sometimes they get it right. Sometimes they get it very wrong. Sometimes they do everything right but still get kicked in gut for trying. And somehow they find the way to get up every morning and try to do their best again.

I'm not a mom, but I know a lot of moms who work hard raising children, hoping they become strong, healthy adults. I'm a woman so I know what it's like to be a woman in today's world. How sometimes as a woman it doesn't matter what you say or what you do, you're either too much or too little. How the rules seem to be different between men and women. Against one group of women to another. I know what it's like to be called overly emotional for being passionate about something. Or overly sexual for wearing something that makes me feel fabulously alive but shows too much skin. Being called a bitch because I call someone on their behavior. Or have a strong opinion. Or just because I breath.

And sometimes I feel like no matter what I do I'm still going to be too little or too much. I'm never going to be just right.

We are all flawed people. In someone's eyes we are going to be too little or too much. Everyone has an opinion and judgements and insecurities. Everyone is trying to find a way to keep getting up every morning. For some, this may be easy. For the person secure in who she is and who has her back, it may be easy to shrug off the naysayers and push forward. For others, it might be very, very difficult.

Sometimes we are our own enemies. Raise your hand if you have ever told yourself you were stupid, inept, or a failure. If you have looked at yourself in the mirror and berated yourself for being in Vogue shape. If you have made a mistake and have not forgiven yourself. If you hate something about yourself. If you do something for yourself and feel guilty after. If you look at the people around you and judge yourself for not being just like them. If you have looked at the lives of other people and hate them just a little for being better than your life.

Maybe if we are trying to live an ethical life, if we try to be kind to people, to be compassionate, to strive to become better versions of ourselves just a little every day (or week, or month. I'm not judging), then maybe we can let up on ourselves. Maybe when we make mistakes, we own them and try to learn from them, then we can stop berating ourselves. Maybe if we allow ourselves to believe we are worthy of kindness and compassion we can stop feeling guilty. Maybe if we acknowledge that there are bad days where our shit falls apart, we can start being kind to ourselves.

Maybe if we stop looking at the lives of other people as the bar we hold ourselves to, we can be kind and compassionate and generous to others. If we want to love our neighbour, maybe we need to learn to love ourselves.

It is Yom Kippur, and though I am not Jewish, I find something compelling with this Jewish high holiday. One of the passages read on Yom Kippur is from Deuteronomy and is about choice. Choose a path of forward momentum and growth and light, or choose to stay mired in mindsets and choices that are slowly destroying us.

Move forward into a space of opportunity and growth or remain trapped within perils of the past and fears of the future? The choice seems obvious enough, but the path to renewal is far from easy. Choosing “life and prosperity” requires us to recognize our previous misgivings, but it also challenges us to accept whatever consequences lie ahead. (Reform Judaism) 

While this isn't all that is encompassed within Yom Kippur, and I apologize right now to my Jewish friends and family for distilling what is a day of huge import down to a question of choice, I find it important to ask myself, am I willing to choose the more difficult path? The high road is lonely. Change is hard. Being honest with myself means being honest with others. Even if that honesty requires me to go low and apologize and offer reparations for something I have done that has had negative effects on someone.

Yes, we are all flawed people. And we will make mistakes and our shit will come undone. Despite it all are we willing to make a choice toward becoming our better selves?

Gratitudes:

1. Movies and books about flawed people. 
2. Velcro Dog urging me to leave the house every morning. Not for my benefit, for his, but it's all good. 
3. The gentle love of my friends, even when I don't always love myself. 

Photo by Pomax

Melancholia and Me

Gratitudes:

1. Looking at the rain from our newish porch. It's fantastic!
2. The Dalai Lama and Archbishop Desmond Tutu - they are amazing men with a shared message of joy and compassion.
3. Rawhides. They are for dogs what the TV is for small children. Don't judge!

I'm not going to lie, it's been a rough week. As I have stated before on this blog, I have situational depression, which means I have short term depressive episodes that are triggered by circumstance or situation. While this is not clinical depression, it does share symptomology: depressed mood, feelings of hopelessness, crying, changes in sleep, changes in appetite, etc. It can lead to major depression if the situational depression isn't addressed.

I am also naturally more melancholy in mood. Melancholia is not depression, as Eric G. Wilson explores in his book Against Happiness: In Praise of Melancholy:

There is a fine line between what I’m calling melancholia and what society calls depression. In my mind, what separates the two is degree of activity. Both forms are more or less chronic sadness that leads to ongoing unease with how things are — persistent feelings that the world as it is is not quite right, that it is a place of suffering, stupidity, and evil. Depression (as I see it, at least) causes apathy in the face of this unease, lethargy approaching total paralysis, an inability to feel much of anything one way or another. In contrast, melancholia (in my eyes) generates a deep feeling in regard to this same anxiety, a turbulence of heart that results in an active questioning of the status quo, a perpetual longing to create new ways of being and seeing.

Please know that I'm not attempting to minimize clinical depression. This is a very real dark shadow that sucks a person down into their own quiet hell. It is a straight jacket, the darkest night, a twisted tunnel of reality that is loathe to let a person go. Clinical depression requires therapy and medication and a lot of support.

This week's lows stem both from my melancholia and situational depression. What has happened to trigger this depressive state? I couldn't pinpoint one single event. I haven't changed jobs, ended a relationship. The only changes that have taken place in my life is that summer has moved into autumn and the two year mark of not working due to health issues has come and gone. I haven't worked in two years. I'm no closer to being able to work than I was then. In fact, I think things have worsened over the last few months.

That may be why I have sunk beneath the waters of melancholy and lay in the pool of short term depression.

Knowing what's going on within my body - physical, emotional, spiritual - means I'm more likely to be able to do something to help myself. Sometimes it's watching Doctor Who or Star Trek. Other times it's getting outside and being out in nature. Sometimes it's getting together with a good friend who loves me, quirks and all. Sometimes it's therapy.

Today, it was figuring out why I feel so low and then writing about it. I have named it. I can now regulate it (inside joke with Claire, but true nonetheless).

There are things I can do toward my health issues. I know this. I've been lax in doing many of them. I got tired of the supplements and the diet restrictions. I started to slip while on vacation in July and kept right on slipping once I got home. My sleep hygiene could use some tightening of routines. I could move my body more.

And I can let myself feel low, feel sadness, frustration, hopelessness. I can sit in these feelings and let them wash over me, through me. I can seek to answer what triggered this round of depression and increase my distress tolerance and my skills. I can let the emotions wash away a layer of myself that no longer fits.And  I can come out the other side being a bit better version of myself.

It's okay to feel low. To be melancholy. It's normal to be so thrown by a life event that you temporarily feel suffocated by depression. This doesn't make me a freak of nature, unlike what my brain continues to try to tell me. It makes me normal. It makes me...me. 

Photo by: Seth Stoll 

Necessary Connections

 Gratitudes:

1. Velcro Dog's unfailing joy in life. All the mud on my floor is worth the joy in his face after tromping around the thawing backyard.
2. Pomodoros. They help keep me on track, especially when working on things I would rather send to the pits of doom.
3. The lovely Coffee Guy at my local café. Thank you for your free refills and your ready smile. It makes my day!

Every Friday I get together with girlfriends for coffee or lunch and chatting. It's so wonderful to be able to get out of the house, away from my inner bitch and be with other people. We talk about everything from the states of our marriages/significant relationships, sex, pop culture, health, religion, and the state of our mental health. No topic is verboten. The only tacit agreement we seem to have is that we are respectful of each other. Which is a good agreement to have, tacit or explicit. 

Coffee Lurve!

Today after slogging through breakfast and physical therapy, I managed to make myself presentable enough to be seen in public. I made my way to our favorite café. It was two of us for coffee today and we discussed the benefit of empire waisted shirts, spring skiing in the Midwest versus Colorado, and the mental health benefits of getting outside in the winter. Nothing earth shattering, but it filled my soul in a way that only being around people who care about you for who you are can give. 

I don't do this often enough. I tend to stick to my cave and snuggle on the bed with the dog until Hubs gets home. He's a homebody so we spend the evening at home. If it weren't for my friends, and the need to give Velcro Dog his daily walk, weeks could go by where I wouldn't leave the house. I don't think this hermit mentality is healthy, so I try to plan things that will get me out and around people. Coffee with a friend. Breakfast with just me and my journal or a book. Window shopping. A museum. A park. 

I spend a lot of time alone. This is both by choice and because health issues have made my world very small. I cancel often. I don't plan too far ahead. I can't guarantee I'll have a good day, or a good hour. I become afraid to reach out to people I haven't seen in awhile because I don't want to appear flaky or non-committal. So I let myself fade into the shadows of relationships. 

Which isn't healthy. It's self-defeating from a mental health standpoint. It makes for a lot of self-doubt, a lot of loneliness. The perfect fodder for dark thoughts and can usher one from melancholy to depression. I'm not depressed, but I'm no stranger to dark thoughts. 

Which is why my Friday friend dates are so important. For a period of time I get to step outside my head and into the sunlight of caring. Joy is infectious and I leave feeling better about myself and my life. I may not be living the life I thought I would be at almost 45 years of age, but I'm living the life in front of me. And that's nothing to be ashamed of. 

When Pain is All There Is

 Gratitudes:

1. Gluten free gourmet pizza. Yum!
2. Deadpool the movie. Yes, it's crass and violent and he's an anti-hero. But it's his utter humanity that I find compelling and I loved the movie. 
3. Medical care and holistic approaches to healing and healthy living.

Grey, it's how I feel today.

There isn't much to report today other than I think the stress of taxes (and my uncharacteristic lack of organization this year) along with poor posture has triggered a migraine. I've done the stretches and trigger points. I've taken the triptans. I've heated and iced. And I am still feeling miserable. And yet, I cannot sink into oblivion because of said taxes, the care and feeding of Velcro Dog, and the fact that I have basic living that requires my attention.

I feel almost as I did back when I was working and my health was shattering around me. Locked into something that has no end, and that I need to fight the pain and health issues so they don't get the best of me.

Fighting is what caused my health issues to finally do just that.

While I can't just give in to the pain, I have to learn to at least make friends with it. To cooperate with it. Some pain is beneficial. It signals that I've spent too much time in one position or doing something that, if continued, will trigger a flare or migraine event. If I listen to the pain in my body, I can do something to ease back, change direction, and circumvent deeper pain.

Sometimes all my coping strategies aren't enough and the pain threatens to overtake me. I want to tense up. I want to wail and curse and sink into the despair that slithers along with the pain. If I do that, I will end up believing there is no hope of respite. That all I will ever know is pain. And longing. And life will pass me by.

So I need to listen to the pain. Acknowledge it. Work through my strategies. Practice self-care.  Call a friend and plan some social time. Go for a slow walk. Remind myself that this too shall pass, even if in the moment it feels like pain is all there is. Because that's a lie. There is more to life, more to me than pain. Even if right now pain seems to rule everything.  

Life Is Exquisite

 Gratitudes:

1. Jenny Lawson, aka The Bloggess, for her wit, and her new book, Furiously Happy. 
2. The crisp, autumn air that allows me to spend more time outside and reminds me of the joy of apple crisp for breakfast. 
3. People who at least pretend to be interested in the quirky things that interest me. Thank you!

I don't usually post a lot of my personal crap on my blog. I am relatively private and try to use this space for more positive things. Lord knows I need positive things in my life. 

Warning: this is a long post. Apparently, I have a lot to say today. 

The meds I take make me sensitive to the sun, which means I stay in the shade all summer long. Or slather on enough sunscreen to keep Banana Boat afloat for another year. I spend more time outside in the autumn and spring. As little as possible in winter. That's mainly because I am cold avoidant. And because I live in the land of perpetual grey with a side dish of wind chill. Why do I share this? It's rationale for what I am about to share next. Trust me. 

I have fibromyalgia along with a few other chronic health issues. Due to the constant pain and fatigue and pain (yes, I know pain is in there twice. There's a lot of pain), I can experience situational depression. This isn't clinical. I've seen therapists and I was once a therapist myself. I don't meet the criteria for a DSM-V diagnosis. Which means I treat the depression behaviorally rather than medicinally. In other words, my brain chemistry isn't messed up enough to warrant antidepressants. 

The last few years have seen more bouts of sadness and melancholy than I would like. I do believe that the lack of sunlight I experience due to the reasons listed above contributes. I've spoken with my doctor, my neurologist, and a therapist about this hypothesis and they agree. Their recommendations? Get a light therapy box. Walk every day, outdoors if possible. Spend time with friends. Find things to laugh about. Use DBT or other behavioral methods to acknowledge, reset, and move forward. 

Popping pills can seem much easier.

This summer was actually fairly good. It wasn't so hot I had to spend days on end inside conditioned air. Velcro Dog and I were able to walk more. I was able to spend time with some friends who have wicked sense of humor and help me to laugh more. I was able to do for others and get out of my own head. It was nice. 

This weekend, not so much. I'm not sure why, but my self talk is negative and I walk around attempting to not take everything people say as personal attacks on my character, while valiantly holding back the tsunami of tears. The husband asked me which pot of water I used for blanching veggies I wanted used to water the mutant cherry tomato plant that refuses to stop growing. I took his impatient tone of voice to mean he was disapproving of something. What, I have no idea. When I feel this way, this standing on the edge of the rabbit hole, I know I'm not rational. Or relational. I channeled my inner Commander Data and shared the facts. Then I went out and bought groceries. And chocolate. Lots of chocolate. On my way home, I parked the car somewhere I wouldn't be recognized and cried. It's easier to cry alone than with the man who loves me but wants to fix everything. There's nothing to fix. I feel this way right now. Not everything needs fixing. Cue heavy sigh.

Depression is a tricky thing. I have friends who battle clinical depression. They live in a world where their brains constantly lie to them and life feels dark and empty a lot of the time. I have friends who have a bipolar diagnosis and battle the swing from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows. And everything in between. I haven't been in their shoes. And I feel awful complaining about my pain induced "mild" depressive episodes. I don't have to work my life around my brain chemistry. 

That's a lie. We all have to work our lives around our brain chemistry. Mine might be squirrely and lean towards the darker shades of grey, but I don't need to change my plans or coping mechanisms because of it. I don't feel worthy of calling what I feel depression. It seems a bit like trying to be something I'm not because my depression is on the mild end of the spectrum and doesn't meet diagnostic criteria. I cope by saying I feel melancholy today, rather than I feel like rolling into a tight little ball and crying until I have dehydrated myself, and then I want to sit in a dark corner and eat chocolate and tell myself this too shall pass. Kind of like what Velcro Dog does when he has had enough of everything. He goes to his pillow and shuts out the world for a little while. It's his way of resetting. We all need some way to reset. Even dogs need to reset. 

Yesterday I stayed up way too late reading Jenny Lawson's new books (see gratitude #1). I love her. I want to thank her in person for making me feel like I'm not pretending. That it's okay to be me, situational depression, fibromyalgia, and all. That being quirky and having interests in things that make my family roll their eyes is perfectly normal. She explains that furious happiness is her way of giving the finger to her depression, and that if we can feel these deep lows, then we can also feel bright and whimsical highs. Not in a bipolar kind of way, unless that's how your brain is wired. It's more...we can choose to be bright and bold and happy and find joy despite the crazy making of life and the lies our brains try to get us to believe. 

Life is exquisite. Let's live the shit out of it. 

 

The War of the Walnuts

 Gratitudes:

1. Summer is fading into autumn and the weather is starting to become bearable again. 
2. The black walnut trees in the yard have shed all their nuts. These are messy and attract squirrels, who make them even messier.
3. I'm not working which means I have the time to assist a dear friend who is recovering from surgery. I wouldn't have been able to be there for her if I was still working. 

We have two enormous black walnut trees in our smallish yard. They are fantastic for creating shade along the southwestern corner of the house and the deck, which makes being outside fabulous for someone like me who is sun sensitive. 

The downside is that black walnut trees, while pretty and excellent shade trees, are messy. They drop leaves and twigs all the time. And the walnuts. Did you know that a walnut is the seed of an ugly green fruit? I have the proof!

See that bucket? That is a gallon sized bucket filled to the two thirds mark with walnuts. From the beginning of August until mid-September we pick up at least this much every other day. Often we fill the bucket. What we don't pick up and throw away the squirrels eat. They peel off the green skin and the white fruit (fruit that turns black as soon as it makes contact with the air). They don't sweep up their leavings and neatly toss them in the trash. No, they leave these bits of walnut fruit and shells every where. In the grass. On the driveway. On the deck. In the rain gutters. In the pots I use for plants. Every. Freaking. Where! 

I used to just itch with the need to pick up every last bit of walnut. Do you know how difficult that is? Impossible. But I would try. I would rake on the days the husband didn't mow. I would even attempt to be proactive and pick the nuts right off the trees. It didn't matter how hard I tried, the nuts would continue to fall and the squirrels would continue to make a mess of things. Eventually, I stopped. I continue to pick up the nuts that have fallen, but I no longer attempt to pick up every single bit of walnut from the deck and yard. 

At first, this felt like giving up. I don't like to give up. I am a pit bull when it comes to something I am passionate about, or something I've started. I have to see it through. I have to give it my all. Anything less is admitting defeat. This attitude is what helped me be a functioning adult for over twenty years while battling fibromyalgia. It's also a contributing factor in why I am now unable to work because of the fibromyalgia. That tenacity, it's a double edged sword. 

Letting go of my desire to have a neat and tidy yard during walnut season wasn't giving up. It was adapting my expectations so I could pour my energies into something more worthwhile. So the yard was going to be Disneyland for squirrels for two months out of the year. It keeps the dog entertained. It's nature doing what nature does. And the walnuts aren't going completely to waste. 

The walnuts now represent the ability to adjust expectations. And to mindfully consider just where on the scale of importance something stands. Sometimes I get so worked up about something that is minor. Do I really need to expend all that time and energy on something that isn't truly worth my time? And won't really matter down the road? 

Walnut season is over. We can reclaim the deck and the yard. We can go outside without fear of nuts falling on our heads. Sure, it was inconvenient for a time and required we gather nuts we neither desire or use. But those two trees are still a gift and because we are a little less diligent in picking up the nuts, the wildlife benefits. Velcro Dog benefits. Sometimes looking at a problem as though it is a benefit is a good thing.