tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80236912024-03-13T08:54:37.261-07:00...Seeking Serenity...every day is hard, but live it like it's your first and cherish it like it's your lastmysiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948616116208687616noreply@blogger.comBlogger93125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8023691.post-56172154577503091282016-04-18T23:25:00.000-07:002016-04-18T23:25:07.409-07:00ECT and meOK folks, here is the big reveal: I am currently a patient for <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Electroconvulsive_therapy" target="_blank">ECT</a>, also known as Electroconvulsive Therapy. Sit down, sit down, this is the 21st century, it's voluntary, and my hair didn't catch on fire.<br />
<br />
After over 15 years of therapy, my therapist mentioned it almost in passing earlier this year. After an initial feeling of creepiness, I let myself seriously consider it, and we moved forward. That process itself has taken about two months. There have been doctor's appointments, consultations, tests, and an EKG. All things considered, I'm pretty healthy and a good candidate for ECT, so I was green-lighted last week. Today was my first appointment.<br />
<br />
It went very well, actually. Per usual, the thing that I was most fearful of was the IV insertion. My needle phobia is very real, and very annoying, so Eric stayed with me and showed me a little slideshow of pictures of Kailea. That plus the lidocaine were sooo helpful. In fact, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that lidocaine may be one of the most amazing medical advances of our time. Seriously. I hardly felt a thing. I still felt like I was going to sweat myself away into a puddle if I didn't vomit on someone first, but very quickly recovered from that and it was on to the next - No, actually, it was on to more waiting. Why is there always so much waiting with doctors?<br />
<br />
Eric did not stay for the procedure, something we agreed was a good thing because neither of us thought he should have to see me in that state. I have seen him pass out and it's one of the most disturbing sights I've ever witnessed, so I was not about to let him see me have a convulsion.<br />
<br />
Fun fact: it's actually the convulsion itself (caused by the electrical current) that they believe helps the brain, not the shock. So with muscle relaxants, anesthesia, and very low level electricity they can do a world of good without negating it with so many horrific side effects that gave 'shock therapy' a bad, scary name in its first decades. That and informed consent. Thank the gods for informed consent. I knew almost exactly what to expect going in, which was a big part of my decision to consent.<br />
<br />
After everything was wrapped up and we left the building, I had a nice "guilty pleasures" lunch of a corn dog and jo-jos (I never got that corn dog I was dreaming about Saturday when we went to the fair!). Eric quizzed me off and on about the weekend and last night and earlier today. I seem to remember everything just fine. Wow!<br />
<br />
So why am I telling you all of this? Because it's a big deal and kind of scary and I want you to have all the facts, but my depression this year has taken a scary turn and become a big deal itself and it's easier to talk to you about the ECT than the facts of my depression. Know that I didn't come to this decision lightly.<br />
<br />
Today was day one, and I have another 4-6 weeks of treatments to go, every MWF. It's going to be a full schedule for me for awhile, so if I seem even more elusive than usual, that's why. And also, I'm not allowed to drive during the entire 6 weeks. I would insert a "grr" here, but I rarely drive these days as it is (thanks sciatica!).<br />
<br />
That's it for now. I'm not sure how much I'm going to want to reveal here. Part of me is tempted to just data dump, but (a) this is long enough, and (b) I want everyone to be able to read about my decision without anyone getting TMI right off the bat. I am perfectly happy to discuss it with anyone who may be curious about details, so feel free to PM me on Facebook or shoot me an email.<br />
<br />
I just want everyone to know that this is a positive thing, I feel really good about it, and I have hope for the first time in what seems like forever. Those are all huge pluses to outweigh any possible side effects, and now that it seems there won't be much in that department, it's looking like a win/win situation! Keep your fingers crossed for me!mysiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948616116208687616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8023691.post-11940150752352656742016-04-03T20:58:00.005-07:002016-04-03T20:59:42.410-07:00Hopeless.txtI finally put my thumb on it. I figured out what happened that started my current downward spiral. I wrote about it at one point late last year in a document on my desktop called "hopeless". I even published it to my blog for a time before deleting it from there. It takes a lot for me to delete a blog post, but there was so much anger there. Too much, and too widely swashed around. Sloshed? Is swashed a word?<br />
<br />
Anyway, two major heart crushes happened in 2015. I was really sad after the first one, but the second one changed me. Changed me in a way that I can't get back. I lost my hope. Apparently, I lost all of it. I've always felt that hope was my worst enemy, because no matter how upset or depressed I get, it's always there, tormenting me. But not any more. It's just gone. And apparently, after that I just kind of withered away.<br />
<br />
I was going to talk about the appointment with Dr. Bess, but I can't right now. I just don't fucking care enough. Apparently there is some hope in me, because I'm going to have these procedures. I'm going to shock myself into better health. Things are extreme when you have to introduce an electrical current to your body to feel better.<br />
<br />
Let's do this, here is an excerpt from my Letter of Surrender, otherwise titled Hopeless.txt:<br />
<blockquote>I've never quite understood the phrase "to wear your heart on your sleeve". Oh, I know what it means, but why your sleeve? Wouldn't it make more sense if your heart was visible on your chest? If your love was tattooed on your forehead? Telegraphed through your handshake?<br />
<br />
I've always worn my heart... on the outside. If I care about you, I let you know. If I love you, I've said it. If I have a crush on you, it's been in my fierce blush and my wide eyes and my hushed stammer.<br />
<br />
It may be difficult to guess what I'm thinking about, to understand my passions and nightmares, but I've never really been able to mask my heart.<br />
<br />
And I'm not going to change that.<br />
<br />
But I thought maybe someone should know that there has been a change, nonetheless. Somewhere it should be noted that things have finally gone too far. Life has trampled on me and my pathetic little heart a few dozen times too many.<br />
<br />
It's been some time since anyone has reached in my chest, torn out my heart, thrown it on the ground and stomped all over it. But it's familiar. Very familiar. But what You have done to my heart this time was so subtle, I've hardly noticed it.<br />
<br />
I've run out of hope. It's left the building. Flown out a window?<br />
<br />
One thing I've always had is hope. I've cursed it, actually. It's a vile thing when you are on the ground and someone is kicking you in the face and you still feel some hope that you will see the sun again. You'll still have snow days and cat cuddles and brownies and music and art and forests and beaches. There might even be a nice person or three to walk beside you from time to time. Wow, I can even imagine another person to hold my hand, maybe even to help pick my heart up off the slaughterhouse floor.<br />
<br />
But that left some time ago. The last one out the door turned off the light and snatched my heart and my hope and discarded them outside somewhere that I can't even begin to think where to find them now.</blockquote><br />
mysiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948616116208687616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8023691.post-21634834838182232722015-07-25T18:49:00.000-07:002015-07-25T18:50:27.350-07:00Why did I say that?When they swept around the corner following their leader with a selfie-stick like a parade, I groaned. I sooo did not want to end up on Youtube. They were young, so young. And loud and chatty and happy and laughing. "Youth is wasted on the young."<br />
<br />
I had been trying to keep the aisle around me somewhat organized, but given how many pairs of shoes I have to try on before something fits, my stuff was still scattered everywhere. I quickly tucked my purse and shoes under the seat, then they were on top of me. A tidal-wave of giggly snark, they stopped right next to me. Because <i>of course</i> they needed the shoes just opposite me. And they plopped down on the floor around me.<br />
<br />
I half grinned and half groaned. They were invading my personal space, but I was very amused at the unconscious way they unceremoniously planted themselves on the floor the way I had been doing all my life. I wondered if they were truly oblivious to the opinions of those around them or if, like me, they liked to act bold while secretly wondering who around them was shocked at their unladylike behavior. One of the girls almost smacked into me, trying to weave her way between her friends and all my crap on the floor, and that annoyed me further. But I still kind of liked them for just taking over the place like that, despite the social anxiety buttons it was pushing.<br />
<br />
Were they <i>all</i> going to try on the same pair of shoes? Dear Lord. Best get out of here. Just one more pair to try then I could move on. Maybe I would grab the last pair and re-situate down the aisle a bit on another seat. I stood to do just that, reaching for my purse underneath me.<br />
<br />
The girl who had almost knocked into me wanted to be the third one to try on the shoes, but something in her voice said she was not happy about something. I half looked at her as she bemoaned, "I don't want to sit on the floor." Her eyes happened to meet mine at just that moment. I made an internal sigh, and stopped reaching for my purse, instead standing up.<br />
<br />
"Please," I said, gesturing at the seat. "Go ahead." As she began to reweave her way back through the chaos at her feet, I turned to head for that last pair of shoes.<br />
<br />
And then my mouth just kept flapping.<br />
<br />
"Just don't steal my purse and we're all good."<br />
<br />
I was smiling at my own stupid joke. An odd smile was on her face as if... as if she couldn't wrap her mind around the absurdity.<br />
<br />
Oh. Shit.<br />
<br />
Did I mention they were all black?<br />
<br />
Why did I say that? WHY? <i>Whywhywhywhywhy?</i><br />
<br />
Because as I get older, I have less control over the things that go from my brain straight to my mouth, combined with a tendency toward the absurd and inappropriate and illogical. And because 95% of my conversation on any given day is with a 3 year old. My wits are being dulled, not sharpened. My speaking skills devolving into monosyllabic phrases. I miss my run on sentences and dry, sarcastic humor. It comes out in public like some odd invisible force I've kept locked up for too long.<br />
<br />
Earlier this week I had made both bizarre and inappropriate comments with a shoe salesman. He was awesome and rolled with it. I felt mortified each time I found myself saying things like, "My long toenails are catching here, but is that better than the other size where my toe just falls out and flops around to gross everyone out?"<br />
<br />
It's common for me to turn to my daughter, strapped in her seat, to tell her not to go anywhere.<br />
<br />
I say stupid things to people all the time because I'm trying to make fun of myself, not them. The absurd part is that I'm wondering why anyone would care about my toes, why I was worrying about my daughter being snatched because I was walking 20 feet away instead of 10, and why was I uncomfortable turning my back on a bunch of young people while one of them sat over my purse?<br />
<br />
<i>I'm</i> the dumb one, not you. See? See how weird my mind works? Isn't that <i>funny</i>? <br />
<br />
Why do I have to share every time I think of a crazy thought? Why do I think everyone else will be as amused as I am?<br />
<br />
Of all the things I've wanted to say about race in America since Trayvon Martin's and Michael Brown's killers were absolved of all wrongdoing, why this?<br />
<br />
But this isn't about me.<br />
<br />
This isn't about the way she trash-talked my teeth or how little money I probably had to steal. This isn't about them agreeing that they hoped I didn't have kids, cutting right to that constantly exposed nerve that is my conviction of what a terrible parent I am. This isn't about the way she publicly announced that I had seen a black person and instantly thought "steal", causing me to attempt to explain. It's not about the way they refused to see the comment as reasonable, so I became offended and was only too happy to walk away when told "get away from me." This isn't about the name she called me after we managed to all walk out of the store together - after I had held the door for them and they had each graciously (ironically? sneeringly?) said "thank you" - and how that made me feel like I was in the 7th grade again and afraid of the local girls who were going to beat the shit out of me if I looked at them wrong.<br />
<br />
It's not about how crazy I am, how stupid I feel, how hurt I am to be misunderstood, or how I couldn't help but crying after realizing that my mouth had hurt other people.<br />
<br />
It's about her. It's about them. And us. And America. And Ferguson. And racism and privilege and government bullshit and the police state and prejudgement and our racial filters and our parents and our upbringing.<br />
<br />
Intent is not magic. Offense is defined by the person offended. Explanation of miscommunication be damned. Why do I feel the need to be forgiven by someone I've just wounded? Why do I feel the need to be declared unracist by someone whose lifetime of experience tells them that is exactly what I am? Why do I feel the need to demonstrate that I would have said the same thing to anyone else sitting there? Why do I feel the need to bemoan that white people shouldn't have to weigh their every word before spoken so that innocent speech does not cause offense? Why do I feel the need to self-flagellate myself for not knowing how to properly parent my child so she doesn't repeat my mistakes?<br />
<br />
When you try to turn your car and accidentally jump the curb and mow over a pedestrian, is it appropriate to get out of your car and jump around flailing your arms so that no one can concentrate on the injured person while you insist it was an accident?<br />
<br />
Why can't I just own up to the fact that I'm in this situation now. Who cares if it's inadvertent? I hurt someone, angered someone, pressed their buttons, and caused all this. I did damage. I should apologize.<br />
<br />
I can't believe I didn't apologize.mysiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948616116208687616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8023691.post-14728093837807249152015-04-22T16:51:00.000-07:002015-04-22T17:09:02.126-07:00sharkbait watermelon (Why so conceited? I wasn't hitting on you!)Laying down to soothe my stomach, I've just spent the last 10 minutes (ok, ok, it was 15) trying to think of the perfect come back line for a boy attempting to humiliate me when I was 12. You know, in case I ever get that moment to alter my past by taking over my younger body to rewrite the bad moments. "The Butterfly Effect" meets "Being Erica".<br />
<br />
My first instinct is something that would blow his mind, "I had no idea you knew that women could get wet, since all your experience is either with your own hand or unwilling girls."<br />
<br />
Mentioning masturbation and following it up with accusing a guy of rape is bound to get me suspended from school. Let's switch tactics.<br />
<br />
"You're just compensating for your small stature by belittling everyone around you so that you feel bigger. And in 30 years -"<br />
<br />
No, too many big words. He's 12.<br />
<br />
"You're just making up for the fact that you're short by making other people small so you can feel -"<br />
<br />
Wow, what a mouth full. It would take me 5 minutes to get all this out, and he might be punching me in the face within 30 seconds. And teacher would be right behind him to shut me down if that wasn't effective. So...<br />
<br />
"John," I would drawl playfully with a small, coy smile (John is a sufficiently generic name, yes?). "Everyone here knows that you need to humiliate people so that you don't feel so short. Meanwhile, no one gives a shit about your height. But you're so obsessed with this that you'll spend the next 30 years completely unsatisfied, because you'll be too busy being mean to ever take the time to get to know women and what it takes to satisfy them."<br />
<br />
I really like this one. Really, really, really like this one. But I'm afraid it may get me jumped a week later and beaten/raped. Humiliating a man in public, surrounded by his friends, by mentioning his height and then implying sexual incompetence? That tends to bring out the wife-beating caveman in a guy, not to mention a teenage boy roiling in hormones. And I wouldn't want to completely break him so that he spends the next 30 years hating me the way I've spent it hating him. *sigh* Let's try...<br />
<br />
"Everyone here knows that you need to humiliate people so that you don't feel so short. Meanwhile, no one gives a shit about your height. People don't like you because you're vile to others. Grow up."<br />
<br />
It works, but it's not very satisfying. Why am I so concerned about breaking the fragile ego of a 12 year old? Because I don't want to be a bad person? Because he's just a kid? Because I'm afraid there will be strong repercussions that would hurt me? I just want to make the guy re-analyze his life, so that 30 years from now he isn't so ashamed of his 12 year old self that he can't reveal any of this to his wife, or have a decent conversation with his kids when they hit puberty. How to make him feel like a jerk, and enough so that it will stick with him, but only enough to be a warning of what not to let himself become?<br />
<br />
Does that make this altruistic in nature? Because fear of backlash and/or of being a bad person is kind of the opposite of that. Maybe they will even themselves out?<br />
<br />
But was he innocent? Was he <i>just </i>a boy?<br />
<br />
Kids are mean, period. I spent my entire childhood convinced that I was both fat and ugly, the two most egregious sins a little girl can allow herself to demonstrate in public. Everything else was fair game too, however. My clothes (always in pants and with no fashion sense), my hair (I had nice enough hair, it was mostly unshaven armpits that gave people the willies), my skin color ("Hey Sharkbait! Be careful you don't go in the water and get eaten!"), my height (I was taller than all the boys until 8th grade), my quiet shyness that made me smile when I was uncomfortable...<br />
<br />
And then sex came along. I'm always amazed at the people around me who freak out at the idea of anyone under 16 (God forbid they're under 10!) seeing a naked human body. My mother once told me an embarrassing story - never to be repeated again - proving that I was curious about sex when I was about 3 years old. By Kindergarten I knew what boys I "liked" and wanted to... be with. It was in 2nd or 3rd Grade that I started to wonder about girls. By 3rd Grade kids were secretly dating, holding hands, kissing, and bragging about having sex - I was crushed when it came out that the boy I liked had "gone all the way" with his girlfriend (it was probably just exaggeration, but you never know). By the 4th Grade I was masturbating regularly and trying to watch "adult" movies on cable when my parents weren't around. By 5th grade all the girls were talking about the boys they had kissed at this weekend's parties. By 6th grade you were a NOBODY if you didn't have a boy to hold hands with during recess, when all the couples would sit on the rock wall between the parking lot and the basketball court.<br />
<br />
Then things got really weird in Jr. High, when suddenly we were on the same campus as 8th graders who all smoked, drank, and made out or had sex every weekend. Nobody was <i>just</i> a kid anymore. Nobody was innocent.<br />
<br />
It was annoying when John called me "sharkbait" because I didn't tan. It was humiliating when he called me "watermelon", because I figured he meant I was big and fat. Then came the day on the baseball field in PE, in full view and earshot of our teacher (not to mention all the other snickering boys in the class), when out of nowhere came the one that would haunt me for 30 years: "Hey watermelon, I bet you're wet." All the boys laughed, and the girls giggled. I just stood there and blinked, What was he talking about? He cleared it up later, as we all filed out of class.<br />
<br />
I remember him leaning over the ball field's fence, waiting for me to get closer as we all marched down the stairs. He waited, watching the horror come over my face at the dawning realization that I had to pass under him just to get away from him, grinning maliciously. At the very last moment, he leaned as far down towards me as he could from the height of the elevated field, then muttered, "I bet you're all wet inside, aren't you?"<br />
<br />
He had enjoyed it so much when he saw I didn't know what his first comment had been about. I had no idea he could laugh any louder until the moment he saw it on my face that I had figured it out.<br />
<br />
He was talking about my vagina.<br />
<br />
And when he'd started calling me watermelon weeks ago, he had been talking about my vagina all those times too.<br />
<br />
My humiliation was finally complete. He had finally found the one place no one else had bothered to criticize or ridicule: my sex and my sexuality. As if my body shame could have been any deeper at the time.<br />
<br />
Why am I not building a time machine <i>right now</i> to nail his little dick to a wall?<br />
<br />
Probably because I'd have to then go back and nail a whole lot of other dicks to walls, and I don't want to think about how to accomplish something similar for the girls who tortured me. The girls were usually the worst, because they were louder, shriller, and loved humiliating other girls daily just for sport. With the boys, they were usually just part of the pack laughing at the scathing remarks of the other girls. Unless I got too close to them and they had to make it publicly clear that I was gross, or they had to complain loudly about being paired with me in class. Maybe that's why John stands out, because it wasn't common for the boys to be the ones actually saying the remarks that hit home.<br />
<br />
High school was different. It was so nice to be able to breathe and worry about things like school and tests and boys who actually liked me and hanging out with true friends who laughed <i>with</i> me. Just like that, teasing dropped off by about 95%. Why bother, when you had cliques to hang with your own and ostracize the "other"? So was it the decrease in being forced to socialize with people you didn't like, or was it something else?<br />
<br />
I was a Senior in high school before I realized that guys had been checking me out since at least the 9th grade. Because when I caught them, they would immediately look away. I know I hated it when I was bored in class and in my desperate attempt to find any sort of stimulation I found myself looking at some cute guy - just as his bored eyes looked my way. I always averted my eyes instantly. I never stuck around to see if anyone would curl a lip or just keep on turning their head, and it certainly never occurred to me that they might <i>smile</i> at me.<br />
<br />
Until one day I caught a boy spacing out while he looked at me, his eyes glazed over. Who knows what he was actually thinking about. But the moment he realized what he was doing AND that I was looking back at him, he was the one who instantly averted his eyes. And blushed. He was embarrassed.<br />
<br />
A cute guy blushed and averted his eyes from my gaze. A mildly popular guy who could get just about any girl he wanted.<br />
<br />
My mind kept hitting rewind to re-analyze the scene. When something clicked. I had seen this before.<br />
<br />
It had been happening to me since 9th grade Algebra class, at least. Boys' eyes darting away, or down, or to the person next to them to chat. Except all those other times, they had been subtle/quick enough to play like it hadn't been a stare, but instead a moment in a longer time spent swiveling their head to take in the whole room or turn towards a friend. And all the times I was even quicker than them and averted my eyes first.<br />
<br />
Holy. Shit.<br />
<br />
To this day, I don't know how to feel about the revelation. As ever, part of me is thrilled, part of me feels justified that I was good enough to look at all along. But most of me is bitter. Because these boys are the same ones who made me feel like shit on a regular basis.<br />
<br />
Cute girls may get the attention of boys and then get thrown away like toilet paper. Meanwhile, I was treated like shit on toilet paper because of my body, and my body was secretly appreciated by the same group of people.<br />
<br />
It reminds me of that thing that guys do, how they like to turn things around if their advances are rebuffed. I think there might be a hashtag about it, something like "why so conceited? I wasn't hitting on you". Because there are some men that can't stand humiliation to the point that they would rather humiliate the woman they were just admiring.<br />
<br />
"Oh, you thought I was asking you on a date? You? No! I meant the whole gang should go out on Saturday." <br />
<br />
Or the woman who "experimented" with online dating conversations, where she simply <i>accepted</i> compliments instead of denying them.<br />
<br />
"You're beautiful."<br />
"Yes, thank you."<br />
"Wow, you sure are conceited. You're not that hot. Bitch." <br />
<br />
People actually accused her of not having the right to perform social experiments on unsuspecting men. Because how dare she change her behavior just to see if men react differently? Also, women who wear makeup are lying whores...<br />
<br />
Or my personal favorite, which came up a lot in the YouTube video made by the woman who secretly taped all the guys hitting on her during the course of <i>one</i> day while walking through New York, "Just because I called you beautiful from 50 feet away and we've never met before, doesn't mean I was hitting on you. I was just saying hello. Bitch."<br />
<br />
So was John evil? Or just typical? Did he secretly covet my breasts, thinking about my wet vagina?<br />
<br />
I'll never know. And I hate not knowing. But more than that I can't stand the audacity of a man who can't deal with embarrassment, so instead he humiliates someone else. Or blames them.<br />
<br />
"Well it's your own fault that I've spent the last 10 years having anonymous sex with people that I meet online. You didn't jump on my dick 5 times a week like you did before we had kids. And no, I couldn't talk to you about that! I'm not going to beg a frigid woman to have sex with me."<br />
<br />
And what kind of man thinks it's so important to stay in a relationship, one that he can't keep from straying from, that he will resort to accusing his wife/girlfriend/partner of being crazy when she finds clues to his betrayal?<br />
<br />
"Of course I'm not into her. She's just a friend. You're being paranoid. That sexy note you found was just a joke. She was actually mocking you, because she thinks you're too clingy. Maybe she's right?"<br />
<br />
It's a wonder that the human race bothers to date anymore, let alone enter into "permanent" monogamous relationships.mysiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948616116208687616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8023691.post-1176818168349042402014-08-15T15:52:00.000-07:002014-08-15T15:52:20.111-07:00On SuicideThere have been so many moving things written in the wake of Robin Williams' suicide, it makes it a little easier to accept his death. Who knew Robin Williams had made such a large impact on the American psyche? I certainly hadn't suspected how much his death would affect me, let alone my friends and family on Facebook.<br />
<br />
A lot of people have taken this time to relay personal stories of depression, and that is incredible. I feel the need to add my own voice, but I have no idea what to say. I get the impression that most of my blog posts are reactions to other people's ideas, responding to other people's take on things and focusing all my energy on proving myself right and their position so clearly in the wrong. (Gods forbid I ever find something to blog about that I agree with!)<br />
<br />
So I told myself, this time, I need to write something that's just me. I'm going to talk about what depression and suicide have meant to me.<br />
<br />
Depression is terrifying. Sometimes, in moments of clarity, I will sort of become "awake" within my own mind, the rational part of me seeing my thoughts and actions, knowing they are incorrect and/or harmful and/or dangerous. This doesn't happen very often, but when it does, it makes everything so much scarier, feeling trapped within my own mind. I have, however, had some success with using this part of myself to overtake the rest, and at the least get me out of an especially dark or dangerous situation. Part of the painful and yet more successful parts of my treatment for depression has been tapping into this rational area, so that I can notice when I'm having the downward spiral and talk myself out of the endless loop of self-hatred and self-pity. Painful because the two parts of my psyche resent each other. Truly. "Sane Me" resents having to deal with this crap, resents that we're here *again*, resents how hard this fight is going to be. "Crazy Me" resents that someone wants to take away the pity party. Sanity always wins once I get to that realization, because it's just so easy to see how silly the Crazy has become at that point.<br />
<br />
But Sanity doesn't like to pop up until things have gotten too close to the edge. So most of the time, Crazy has free reign. She has some wicked tricks in her bag.<br />
<br />
The soul-sucking, color-leeching, joy- and love-banishing Giant Invisible Suffocating Wet Blanket is her stand-by. And it's the most effective, the most insidious. Because she just creeps in when I'm not looking, and slowly pulls the wool over my eyes and my head and my soul and suddenly the world looks like crap. Sometimes it's months before I notice. I'll start trying to trace my mood backwards when I realize I don't have a reason for feeling this way. And I never find the beginning, not the moment that it crouches behind me, not the moment it starts to cover me, not the moment that I am finally swallowed whole. If I'm lucky, I'll find a "before", a moment of happiness that has enough information and emotion connected to it that I can realize that not only was I happy in the moment, but I had been breathing easier before the laughter and saw things just fine immediately after. This can be a good tool to use against the blanket. For a moment, or an hour, maybe a day.<br />
<br />
Oh, I guess I left that part out: everything in Crazy's Big Bag of Nasty Tricks is indestructable. Sanity and memory and good friends and happy moments can push the blanket off, halt a downward spiral, pull me back from the brink.<br />
<br />
But nothing makes them quit. I think eventually they wear out for some reason that I'm not privy to. There is no pattern to it. It certainly has nothing to do with anything that I do. But when that happens, I can find myself without the blanket and blinking at how bright and beautiful everything has become. And I ask myself, when did this start happening? And again, I can't recall. But I quickly tell myself to forget it, because I don't want to lose or destroy or waste this moment.<br />
<br />
No, it's not medication that does it. Medication is a life-saver for me. The support of friends and family is immeasureable. Training myself to halt my natural thought processes has been helpful now and then. But nothing overcomes that Blanket. Nothing. All of those things mentioned help lighten it, make it a little less opaque, a little less heavy. Medication helps the other things help more, if that makes sense, a sort of boost to the power of outside support. It makes it easier to find the Sanity voice in my head. It makes it easier to find a reason to get out of bed in the morning. It makes it easier to leave the house to meet people and share joy.<br />
<br />
But nothing I've ever done or experienced has bested the Blanket. Ever.<br />
<br />
So let's talk about suicide now. I'm not a fan. If we're not talking about me, I have somewhat different responses to it.<br />
<br />
My mother has attempted to take her own life on more than one occassion. The first terrified me, then angered me, and now leaves a bitter taste in my mouth when I recall it. I still have her, and I console myself with that, but she still hurt me deeply, and there's still a chance she'll try it again and this time succeed.<br />
<br />
When Kurt Cobain did it, I was devestated. He had touched something in so many people, and now he was gone. He had been in so much pain and couldn't take it any more. He would never see his daughter grow up. This all made me so very, very sad. But not angry or hurt. As much as he had touched me, as important as he was to the world and his family, it wasn't about us. It was about him. I was sad for him.<br />
<br />
When the singer of Blind Melon died from a heroin overdose, I felt rage. I still can't listen to their music. I cannot forgive him for accidentally killing himself. In my mind, every hit of heroin is like a gamble with your life, but a gamble that you take willingly yet with almost no thought at all. If a person is in so much pain that they need to end it, I feel for them. If someone is in enough pain to do something stupid that may or may not have any impact in either direction, I feel contempt for them. I have a feeling this is blaming the victim. But there it is: I would rather you kill yourself out of pain than seek out a way to just play with the idea that can backfire permanently in your face.<br />
<br />
When Michael Hutchence died... I was even more devastated. The fact that there are so little facts is a problem. They have not to my satisfaction proved that he died intentionally or by accident. This makes it easier not to feel anger. There are the circumstances of his life, his wife's death, the custody disputes over their children, and recently the death of one of those children now grown (who is always referred to as Geldof's daughter and not Hutchence despite his hand in raising her). The whole thing makes me miserable. Then there is the personal aspect. I can't explain it, but he meant more to me than Kurt Cobain did. So it hurts more. It hurts the most. It's hard not to cry when I hear some of my favorite songs, even though he's been gone for so long now.<br />
<br />
Robin Williams has been hard, because it was so unexpected. The event itself, and the effect it's had on me and most Americans it seems. None of us were very prepared to face just how much he had meant to us, and then he was gone and now there will never be any more magic for him to create for us. But also I find it to be ironic, in a rather horrifying way, that he would kill himself after his film "What Dreams May Come" made such an impact on me. Granted, I never bought much stock into the idea of a special Hell for suicides to go after they die, but the message and beauty of that particular Heaven resonated deep within me. There are some versions of an afterlife that I yearn to discover are true, despite being an atheist-leaning agnostic, and that one is pretty near the top.<br />
<br />
But I said this was going to be about me, so I might as well get it over with. Do I have a more personal experience with suicide than these? Yes and no.<br />
<br />
Yes, because I have had suicidal thoughts at multiple points in my life. No, because they were usually fleeting. <br />
<br />
There have been... less than a handful of times that I have given it any serious thought. I can't and won't talk about them here. That's not fair to my family. But I can explain that just about the biggest reason why I am still here today is because I cannot stand pain. I am more terrified of causing myself pain than I am of living through whatever anguish has driven me to those thoughts. The physical pain I've accumulated over the years has been good for something, at least.<br />
<br />
I'll tell you what kind of bothers me more than those moments, are the countless times that the thought has popped into my head and had to be dismissed. Countless because they are all so similar, the all blend together.<br />
<br />
Yes, I managed to talk myself out of it, usually rather quickly. But the mindset... it's harder to shake the memory somehow, so maybe that's why it's scarier. I guess because I was rational enough to talk myself out of it, I have a better memory and understanding of it after the fact than the times when I was crazy enough that it was serious.<br />
<br />
The utter hopelessness that births these thoughts is soul crushing. There is no other way to describe it. I can only speak from my own experiences, but these thoughts usually come from a very specific place: fear of being alone. I already have so little steady connections in my life, the idea of losing those last, most basic pillars in my life is more terrifying than death or pain or nuclear holocaust.<br />
<br />
How to describe this in a way that an outsider can get some glimpse? Do you truly understand what a downward spiral of negative thoughts is like? The real pity party, the kind you can't control? They say that in a near-death experience, your life flashes before you. Well, what if it was just the bad parts? The really bad parts. And it was by no means a flash. You are somehow capable of bringing to life the perfectly preserved feelings of pain and anguish, physical and mental (usually mental) of these moments. And you play them back-to-back, going in circles to revisit them. And each moment seems to carry on for a day, so that it feels like you've always been in this place and you always will be. There is absolutely no hope for you, because the only thing in your life that ever was, ever is, and ever will be is the most excruciating pain you can imagine. When suddenly, you've had enough. Either your brain snaps you out of it, or you come to realize the only way for it to stop is to end everything. If your entire existence is pain, the only solution is to end your existence.<br />
<br />
People put pets to sleep who are in too much pain. We put murderers to death for the pain they cause. The average person would eventually kill themselves if they were in enough physical pain for long enough, each one of us just has a different breaking point. It's why torture is so effective, because eventually, everyone has a place where, if pushed beyond, they would rather die to end the pain than continue. Even if it means betraying everything and everyone they love. Pain reduces you to that lizard-brain place of survival-of-self over everything else. It's only a matter of finding the depth of pain that will turn death into a better version of survival than living through any more pain.<br />
<br />
Someone with depression is very, very good at finding that place. This is where the "depression lies" concept comes into play. Because it's not enough to feel pain or to feel worthless, no, there is The Voice that compounds everything by constantly confirming your worst fears. You really are that insignificant, that stupid, that miserable, that evil, that fat, that lost, that hopeless. On a daily basis, The Voice convinces you that sitting on the couch will feel better than going for a walk. It will convince you that talking to someone will make you feel worse, or make them feel worse, and how can you burden another person with this? It will tell you you're selfish. It will tell you you're not selfish enough, that you deserve to reward yourself with something harmful. It will tell you that you deserve the pain caused to you and that you cause to yourself. It will tell you every single last lie it can think of, and then think of new ones.<br />
<br />
It's hard enough to get off the couch or out of bed or pick up the phone when that's going on in your head. Can you possibly fathom what it's like to listen to that while you are stuck in an infinite loop of feeling all the worst pains of your life all at the same time? The Voice is sometimes your own, sometimes your mother's, sometimes the one you love the most, sometimes the one you hate the most. The pain is mental and physical, in your head and your ears and your skin and your gut. And you can't breathe. It is too much to breathe or think or move, what else can you do but use everything in your power to MAKE IT STOP!?<br />
<br />
And this is what it feels like for just a moment in time, and the more you fight it, the more moments of eternity you will feel, when all you want is for it to stop.<br />
<br />
I have been lucky. Something has stopped the onslaught of infinite pain and loathing before I acted on it.<br />
<br />
Some are not so lucky. For them, The Voice and the pain together were just too much to take any longer. Their own minds convinced themselves to end it.<br />
<br />
How do you fight that? How do you fight yourself? How does sane fight crazy if sane doesn't exist?<br />
<br />
Feel free to judge. That's just giving The Voice more ammunition. Do you think we're unaware of what our death will do to those we leave behind? Do you have so little grasp of the power of The Voice to not understand that the moment those thoughts pop into our head, they are used against us to convince ourselves we are horrible, rotten human beings who don't deserve what little we have left?<br />
<br />
There is no understanding the unexplainable. There is no way to comprehend insanity because you have to be sane to even attempt it, at which point you're no longer insane enough to be insane. Questioning your sanity is a sign of sanity. The fact that you're capable of questioning means there is hope for you. If you can't even question yourself? You're lost, utterly lost.<br />
<br />
I think the difference between someone who contemplates suicide and someone who attempts it is that sanity is just completely gone in the ones who act. At least, I think that's why I'm still here.<br />
<br />
I imagine there are some people who still have rational thought, who are still making decisions at the time of their suicide. They leave notes, they settle affairs. Maybe they are the majority. But is it any less awful? To be so desperate to end it, that you overrule your own sanity while there's still some left?<br />
<br />
What is worse, to be so utterly hopeless that you kill yourself to end the pain, or to have enough hope to actually realize how little is left, and still feel there is no better choice than death?<br />
<br />
Neither is selfish. Both are irrational. Both are devestating. Both are final, if you do it right.<br />
<br />
And who does it help to blame someone at that point, now that it's over? Maybe it helps you. Maybe it scares away some of the shadows. Maybe your anger and blaming shouts out the Voice a little. I wish you well with it.<br />
<br />
ps: no, there is no happy ending or revelation or lesson to take away. Because life is not a half-hour sitcom. It's not even a Saturday Afternoon Special. It's life. And life is messy and unexplainable, with no instruction manual or reward or even a moral to learn. No wonder I never finish any of my fiction or publish my non-fiction. Because I end things when I'm out of words, not when I've tied a finishing bow. The fact that I use so damned many of them before I run out probably doesn't help though.mysiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948616116208687616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8023691.post-22527150653827836952014-08-02T15:42:00.000-07:002014-08-02T15:42:00.632-07:00Stranger in a Strange Land, a ResponseWhy, oh why didn't I write about "Stranger in a Strange Land" when I had actually just finished reading it? It's been at least a year (two?), and although I know it moved me and changed me and set me on a new path, I feel as if I can only talk about its points in relation to what other people are saying about it. Because I didn't capture those personal responses to the work immediately. I'm going to regret that forever, I know, because you can never re-read a book for the first time.<br />
<br />
I know that it changed me in two ways: it returned some of my hope about life and humanity, and it put me on a new path that has reinforced that hope time and again. This book set me on the path to devour all things Heinlein. And with very few exceptions, each of his works has brought me to that place of <i>"Oh my god, yes!"</i> again and again. I don't think I'll ever be able to adequately describe the effect that Robert A. Heinlein has had on my life, or my great sorrow that I've only discovered him so long after his death.<br />
<br />
This book moved me because it expressed so well my core beliefs about myself and humanity, beliefs that I have never been able to properly name, beliefs so slippery and elusive that I forget about them and have to be reminded. What does it say about me that I have to be reminded of a personal belief in hope?<br />
<br />
Something that has bubbling to the surface over the years, the same something that caused me to start a new blog, was momentarily brought to the surface and shown in a shining light. A connection with and hope for humanity. The realization that yes, it may be paradoxical, but it's time to face the truth that although I am an atheist-leaning agnostic, I seek out and yearn for and suspect there is meaning to life. There is enlightenment to be had, if only we can let ourselves open up to it. Life can be chaotic and random, but somehow serendipity and fate can still occur. Without some overlord or god or grand designer. I can't explain it any better than that, maybe because I haven't been enlightened. I suspect it is merely the journey to enlightenment that *is* enlightenment.<br />
<br />
But I was going to talk about this book, about Valentine Michael Smith, the human raised by Martians who became a sort of messiah. As I said, because it's been so long, I can't remember the details well enough and have to describe my reactions to the book as a response to what others have said. <br />
<br />
I'm going to attempt to respond to the GoodReads review <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/4225387?book_show_action=true&page=1" target="_blank">written by "Christy"</a>.<br />
<br />
1. She has a strong response to the ugliness of the word "grok". I can sympathize with this, truly. I definitely feel like there are words that sound or feel "ugly", and "grok" is definitely one of them. But at some point I got over that, possibly at the point that I actually figured out the true meaning of the word. Something I suspsect that Christy has defined in a slightly different way than I have, which could explain a few things.<br />
<br />
2. She sees a bit of hypocrisy in Heinlein's critique of religion and his use of religion to get his point across, saying that using religion as manipulation is too cynical for her taste and goes against the "Thou art God" philosophy. This is where I begin to suspect she has a different definition of the word "grok", as well as the concept of "thou art god", but I want to get to that later, as it's the meat of everything.<br />
<br />
3. "The sexism of the text, which is inseparable from its heteronormativity and even homophobia." Yep, she's got me there. I still can't get over that line, "Nine times out of ten, if a girl gets raped, it's partly her fault". <i>shudders</i> But it's easier for me to give him a pass on the sexism than it is for homophobia. I just don't understand where the homophobia comes from. It is so very much against everything that I've come to love about Heinlein as I've read more and more of his work. Which makes me wonder about it. A comment on Christy's review by "Stew" suggests much of the book's offenses are contrived to be offensive, as their own commentary on things wrong with society. Speaking of the sexism, I don't think so. But the homophobia? Maybe. I can't recall much, if any, homophobia in any of the other works that I've read by him. I just don't know what to do with these sentiments. They will probably always be the most disturbing thing to me about Heinlein.<br />
<br />
Why is it less disturbing when confronted with the sexism? Mostly because it's pretty much in all of his books. It's difficult to stomach, but you eventually have to roll your eyes and move on. Because at some point you have to remember that no one is perfect, and it's ok to recognize someone's contributions without letting their faults overshadow their good works. Do you point it out? Hell. Yes. Do you ruminate and question and let it frustrate you? Yes. Then you set it aside and move on. One does not judge the Constitution by the way it sets up how to count slaves. Critique it, yes, but don't throw it out. It being a living document, in fact you work to change it, while keeping the historical records as a remembrance of how times have changed.<br />
<br />
One does not ban Huckleberry Finn for its use of the "N-word", but instead focuses on its message that black people are human. One does not judge the sermons of Martin Luther King Jr. for its heteronormatism or religious content, but for the message of overall equality. One does not throw out the contributions of Margaret Sanger for access to birth control because she support eugenics. To be clear, I'm not suggesting that Christy has done this. No, this is me explaining part of my reasoning for giving Heinlein a slap on the wrist rather than a beating for his sexism.<br />
<br />
All of that aside, I have a more slippery reason. I think it's part of Heinlein's sexuality. Yes, I will go so far as to say that I think Heinlein himself was sexist. Time and again, Heinlein's male characters physically dominate the strong women they are drawn to. The scenes are like an eroticized breaking of a horse: the two fight for dominance, the man uses physical force to still the woman into true submission until she stops fighting and listens, he tells the woman how maddeningly feisty she is and how she is never to do "x" again and by the way she is the most amazing woman ever and so beautiful and intelligent and awesome and lets have babies now, she melts into his arms and their relationship is instantly transformed into one of loving hen-pecking and hot sex and adoration and baby making. The man and woman instantly understand everything about each other and all the conflicts from before this moment become silly endearments. The woman can be as "uppity" as she likes until the man raises an eyebrow, then she instantly knows she has crossed a line and with contrition she acknowledges that of course it is her duty to defer to his judgement in the matter.<br />
<br />
Bleck. But... I can't ignore how very much this sounds like the relationship between a true Submissive and his/her Dominant partner. Yes, I'm talking about "BDSM" culture. I'm talking about a very real, valid, and contemporary (as in it's not just 1950s prudish patriarchy) form of sexuality.<br />
<br />
Feminism is still divided strongly between sex-positive and sex-negative views. I am strongly a pro-sex feminist. Some of the anti-pornography and anti-dominance arguments I can understand, even occasionally agree with. But overall, I see sex as a positive human endeavor, pornography as a way to enjoy it, and submission/dominance relations as valid forms of sexuality. In light of that, I strongly suspect these scenes are exactly in-line with Heinlein's personal views. His work is filled with social commentary, much of it along liberal lines, but by no means is he a "flower-child". The man is pro-military and anti-democracy for crying out loud. These are just facets of his world view that we must accept as part of Heinlein, and move on from there.<br />
<br />
Also, I am very frustrated with the entire second paragraph in the 3rd point of Christy's review. I don't see the problem with Jill's leap to the conclusion that appreciating poronography makes sense. It about sums up how I feel on the matter: it's ok to want to be looked at and it's ok to look. Pornography as an industry may have issues of power, and I have a big problem with the everyday objectifying of women as sexual objects in order to sell products, but I don't think pornography itself is wrong or anti-feminist, nor do I feel that seeing a person as a sexual object is wrong. The quote about Jill's relief at not having lesbian tendencies is troublesome. Part of me ridiculously holds out hope that we can take the comment at face value - that Jill wasn't ready for that much change, but that it isn't necessarily commentary on homosexuality. But of course, there's all the rest of the anti-homosexual sentiment to quash this. *sigh* But where does Christy get the impressions that Jill thinks "women are the spectacle, never the spectator" and "women's role in sexual behavior is essentially passive"? I find this whole paragraph to be too close to the sex-negative view point for my comfort.<br />
<br />
4. Christy's response to the "emphasis on <i>self</i>" is where she completely loses me. She says "but if feeling good and being happy are the primary goals of life, then that opens the door for abuses of others in the name of love or happiness and seems a rather meaningless goal in and of itself. Hedonism alone is not enough for me."<br />
<br />
Well damn. Crap on toast, woman, hedonism is basically the core of my entire life view. But for the love of all that is unHoly, how does any of this "open the door" to abuse and make life meaningless? Christy ends her review contrasting Heinlein's view that God is in all of us with Vonnegut's view that there is no god anywhere, saying that she finds Vonnegut more appealing. I've yet to read any Vonnegut, but I can see how someone can believe that view is more realistic or true. But more appealing? She faults Heinlein's finding meaning in the physical as too meaningless, but favors Vonnegut's view that life is meaningless? How can you prefer meaningless but fault someone for being too meaningless? It makes no sense to me. It makes me scratch my head so much, I wonder if I've misunderstood it somehow. (She thinks Mike duping people into knowledge via false religion is "too cynical", but Vonnegut's no god scenario is "appealing"? <i>Huh???</i>)<br />
<br />
But this is a good transition back to my feeling that Christy does not define "grok" the way that I do, and that the definition goes to the core of my beliefs.<br />
<br />
Christy bemoans "philosophy that believes that YOU are the center of the universe, that everything will work out for the best." She mentions <i>The Secret</i>, something that I haven't read (because I suspect I won't like it and there will be much eye-rolling), so I don't understand her "name-it-and-claim-it" comment. Working out for the best... huh?<br />
<br />
As stated, Mike's lesson for humanity isn't religion. Christy doesn't see that although the word "God" is in there, "Thou art God and I am God and all that groks is God" has nothing to do with any "God".<br />
<br />
I'm not Heinlein, and I'm not the character Michael or any other Martian, but I have always understood that to "grok" is to understand the existence of something completely and implicitly. And essential to this understanding is that there is no one thing to understand, there is no God or creator or meaning, there is no me and there is no you. Everything just is. Everything is Everything. There is no chair or you or Martians or books or God or... I suspect no love or hate or fear or action or movement or... anything. Because all there is <i>is everything</i>. There is no ONE thing. There is just EVERYthing, which is one thing. To grok is to understand this. To use Michael's mind powers, one simply taps into Everything, to be One with the All. It's that simple. This isn't religion. It is fact. The meaning of life is that life and unlife and existence is... existence. <br />
<br />
Everything is Everything.<br />
<br />
It's not cynical to dupe people with religion. It's using religion to bring them closer so you can whisper to them that there is no religion, there just <i>is</i>. The lesson is not religion. The lesson is that we are all part of a single existence. It's easy to say "single entity" here, but I don't think that's right either.<br />
<br />
I was in tears when Michael told the ant "Thou art God", not because the ant is part of God and so is Michael and therefore everything will be ok in the end. No, "God" is merely a human name for something unnameable. "God" is the name for the realization that everyone and everything that ever was and is and will be is All. He was saying hello and goodbye to himself. He was acknowledging there is no death. I believe the only reason he uses the word "God" at all is because it is the closest word in the English language that comes anywhere close to covering it.<br />
<br />
And this is as close to something that I can believe in as I've felt since I realized I didn't believe in God when I was 18. It's how I can be an atheist and say there is meaning to life. Do I believe that if I can truly transcend, to somehow actually BE the concept of everything is ONE, that I could then manipulate the things around me? Make my own reality? No. Maybe. It would explain some of the unexplainable phenomenon. It would explain afterlife and quantum physics and ghosts and non-linear time. Because there is no time either. There just IS. Psychic phenomenon*, all of it. Because everything just IS.<br />
<br />
Maybe when I die, all of me will just BE everything else, and everything will sigh in relief that everything is finally one Evertyhing again, and I will know that it's all ok. I'll know how it all ends, I'll know the meaning of life and the universe and god, because I always will be and always have been Everything. Or maybe not. Probably not. But I like this idea better than anything I have ever heard. And it sounds much more probable than anything else too.<br />
<br />
*Heinlein's book "Beyond This Horizon" and Arthur C. Clarke's "Childhood's End" both imply the psychic phenomenon can be explained by the fact that time is non-linear. If there is no time, or if everything that happened/is happening/will happen all happens at the same time, then having fore-knowledge of something is just that person having tapped into non-linear time.<br />
mysiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948616116208687616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8023691.post-85958076458372280392014-07-16T15:24:00.000-07:002014-07-16T15:24:02.374-07:00Women Against Feminism...???So apparently I am behind on an internet bandwagon. Again. This is what happens when one decides the internet is a cesspool and it's time to take a break. More crap bubbles to the surface, everyone yells about it and moves on, and then I show up and see the end results and am left wondering what the fuck happened.<br />
<br />
Well, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/WomenAgainstFeminism" target="_blank">this happened</a>: more young American women are being sucked into anti-feminism, this time through a "feel good" campaign of posting selfies on Facebook that are all about attacking other women, and they <i>don't even realize that the thing they are the most upset about is exactly what they are doing to other women</i>.<br />
<br />
I wanted to write about one of the official "Notes" there by the Page's owner, and who knows when I'll find time to do that. Instead, I'm going to tackle this single point made over and over again on the page that I woke up this morning obsessing about.<br />
<br />
Here is the shortest, sweetest example, posted in a selfie:<br />
<br />
"I don't need feminism because...<br />
I have been shamed by them for not fit in their ideas"<br />
<br />
<div id="fb-root"></div><script>(function(d, s, id) { var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) return; js = d.createElement(s); js.id = id; js.src = "//connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#xfbml=1"; fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); }(document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk'));</script><br />
<div class="fb-post" data-href="https://www.facebook.com/WomenAgainstFeminism/photos/a.176938382515408.1073741827.176928292516417/240849682790944/?type=1" data-width="466"><div class="fb-xfbml-parse-ignore"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/WomenAgainstFeminism/photos/a.176938382515408.1073741827.176928292516417/240849682790944/?type=1">Post</a> by <a href="https://www.facebook.com/WomenAgainstFeminism">Women Against Feminism</a>.</div></div><br><br />
It seems that if you scroll through the page to see the Selfies, read the posts, peruse the comments, a consensus emerges: "I don't need feminism because feminists aren't like me." Actually, it's usually something closer to "I'm not a feminist because feminists are bitches."<br />
<br />
Where is the insert-Neon-Sign-of-Irony-here button? For those of you who didn't catch it, these women are posting again and again and <i>again</i> that feminism is bad because it's mean, while they themselves are doing what they allegedly "hate": judging other women.<br />
<br />
Almost a year ago I wrote something that desperately needs to be heard by the current generation of women in this country. Alas, I don't think my 3 readers made much of an impact. Oh well. I can only try. I titled it <a href="http://mysie.blogspot.com/2013/08/you-dear-reader-are-feminist.html">You, Dear Reader, Are a Feminist</a>. Here's the gist, "If you are reading this, there is a 99% chance that I know and respect and love you. And everyone I know and respect and love is a feminist. Some of you just don't seem to realize it."<br />
<br />
But none of the women posting on this Page seem to be aware of any of the irony, or of the facts. They are tied up in their own emotions. Which is understandable. Which is reasonable. Which is <i>feminist</i>. Which is <b>human</b>.<br />
<br />
I would like to ask these women a few questions, to see if I can lead them with logic to a realization which their emotions seem to have left them blind.<br />
<br />
First, when was the last time you stopped liking chocolate because you stumbled upon a bad dollar-store-quality bar of the stuff? Don't like chocolate? How about coffee? Pizza? Beef*? Carrots? OK, you don't like any of that stuff? Fine. My point being: when did you ever let a single bad experience with your favorite food make you hate that food for the rest of your life? <br />
<br />
This analogy is lame though, because food just doesn't rise to the level of this debate. Also, it's silly of me to think these women are anti-feminists because of a single experience. I get that. I really, truly do.<br />
<br />
So on to my second question. "Did you stop liking men because you had a truly noxious guy hit on you once or thrice or fifty times?" Think about this, ok? If you are into guys, surely you are still into them even after the inevitable "toad" has come on to you. Surely you still want to hook up with the opposite sex even though Jimmy in 4th grade pulled your hair. Surely you love or hope to fall in love with a man even though you dated 5 guys in a row who turned out to be complete jerks. Because one man or fifty, those guys can't change who you are at the core: a heterosexual.<br />
<br />
And still lame, I know. Not 100% true. Our experiencies do change us, even at the core. My experiences with men have made me fear them. But I still like them. I still desire them*. But I know there are those whose fear goes beyond mine. Women who have been violently assaulted or raped by a man may find themselves too changed by the experience to have the same relationship with sex and/or men that they did in the past. Oh, also, you might be gay. But I really think that if you are same-sex oriented, you can figure out how to translate the previous passage into something more relevant, ie "Did a bad date with a girl ever turn you off of girls for good?"<br />
<br />
So now I'm going to step it up a notch. Ready girls*? When was the last time you let some other person who claims to share your religion drive you from your faith? Are you pro-life? You do know that there are pro-choice Christians out there, right? Are you a Muslim who has nothing against Jews? I'm sure you've heard that there are Muslims who hate Israel. Are you a Southern Baptist who hopes to some day see your sister marry her lesbian partner? I don't think I have to tell you that there are plenty of people who share your faith who would actively work to keep your sister from such a happy day. <br />
<br />
When was the last time you let someone else's faith dictate your own? Never? Good. Welcome to feminism. Still not buying it? OK, ok, maybe you're an atheist. Or worse, you're like me, a "recovering Christian". I'll be the first to admit that my experiences with people of faith had a HUGE impact on me and my decision to turn away from religion and faith in general.<br />
<br />
That leaves me with one final question then. Oh, I think I could have found other levels between "faith" and this last step, but I think it's time I just came out and said what was really on my mind.<br />
<br />
When was the last time you let another human being convince you that you are not human?<br />
<br />
Hitler was a pretty poor excuse for a human, am I right? Jeffrey Dahmer comes to mind. I personally loathe Ann Coulter and Newt Gingrich. Maybe you hate Annie Sprinkle and that chick that wrote the Vagina Monologues*. Your 3rd grade teacher? Your step-dad? The guy who stole your virginity? The girl who broke your heart? It doesn't matter.<br />
<br />
Nothing any human ever does to you or to others will ever change the fact that <i>you are <b>human</b></i>. It is who you are, period. Short of some Frankenstein-level science, there's no changing it.<br />
<br />
So by all means, hate feminism. Tell the world you don't need it. Tell the world you're not a feminist. It's your right. But at the end of the day, try to remember that you're human. And I'm human. And that bitch who bullied you because you want to be a wife instead of a lawyer is a human. Then close your eyes, take a deep breath, and remind yourself that more importantly, you're still a feminist.<br />
<br />
Because the definition of feminist isn't bitch. It's not bully. It's not abortion. It's not gay rights. It's not anti-men. It's simply the belief that women are equal to men. Period. Welcome back to the fold!<br />
<br />
<i>*Yep, I'm a feminist. Even though I'm not vegan, I am attracted to men, I still call women "girls" and I'm not offended when anyone else does it, and I don't know the name of the writer of The Vagina Monologues.</i><br />
mysiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948616116208687616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8023691.post-49318168884658695292014-06-09T12:53:00.000-07:002014-06-09T12:53:31.683-07:00Is it Rape Culture or Satire?<h4>Dude: Date me or get raped.<br />
<br />
Internet: What. The. Fuck. PIG.<br />
<br />
Dude: Bitch, I didn't actually rape you! Look at what this guy said about how rape isn't bad! I just think rape is funny, he thinks rape is ok.<br />
<br />
The Internet: RAGE.</h4><br />
When I was a preteen, I moved from Hawaii to Washington. When writing back home to my friends, I liked to add a p.s. that went something like this, "Write Back Soon - or I'm sending the Beastie Boys to Rape You!" I thought the Beastie Boys were ugly. I thought rape was something... unreal. Nobody actually does anything like that, right? So sending ugly dudes to commit a mythical sin upon the bodies of your best friends was sooo damned funny to me.<br />
<br />
I recalled this only recently and I'm horrified at my past-self. Today, I'm wondering about this kid at the exact same high school I attended (was I still writing shit like this when I was in high school? I can't remember.) - how horrified is he going to be in 20 years? I wrote a p.s. in a letter to some friends. He used Twitter and has thousands of followers.<br />
<br />
<i>from scootius.tumblr.com</i>: <a href="http://scootius.tumblr.com/post/88194455517/facebooksexism-thisiseverydayracism" target="_blank">facebooksexism-thisiseverydayracism</a><br />
<br />
I wanted the rest of the story. He posted the infamous Prom Rape Joke in April. The guy tweets so much, it took me over 10 minutes to get down to the May tweets about his suspension. About another 5 minutes to find his pseudo-response to the whole thing:<br />
<br />
<blockquote>Please read this if you think I'm a rapist <br />
<a href="http://howibecametexan.com/2014/04/14/the-problem-with-slacktivism-rape-jokes-are-not-okay-and-neither-are-death-threats-nsfw/" target="_blank">the-problem-with-slacktivism-rape-jokes-are-not-okay-and-neither-are-death-threats-nsfw</a> … You're uneducated for believing everything you see on the internet.</blockquote><br />
It is an interesting read. A very calm, level-headed, look-at-all-sides-of-the-situation type post. The kind of thing I strive for in my own commentaries, with varying success. It misses the mark though. But I didn't even need to say that. <a href="http://howibecametexan.com/2014/04/14/the-problem-with-slacktivism-rape-jokes-are-not-okay-and-neither-are-death-threats-nsfw/#comment-10777" target="_blank">"Anonymous" did it for me in the comments</a> (intelligent comment discussions on a blog post?! holy shit!). I swear, I was asking myself if I had written this and blanked it out, it just sounds so much like what I would say. And it's 11 paragraphs long! But I swear I didn't write it!<br />
<br />
[if the link doesn't properly send you to the comment, scroll down to 18 May, 2014 @ 7:00pm]<br />
<br />
I've written about rape culture before. And one of my biggest pet peeves is a guy who responds to criticism by pointing out someone else's (my) bad behavior to take the heat off (not naming names, as that would get me divorced). But I don't know whether to rage or cry or just shake my head. I don't understand how someone so entrenched in social media (he tweets so much that I had to scroll 17 times to read just one day's worth of tweets) can be so fundamentally clueless about (a) the repercussions of tweeting anything controversial, (b) the ridiculous amount of rape threats being made by trolls across the internet on a regular basis, (c) the concept of "trigger" words or phrases that cause rape and other PTSD victims to relive their trauma every time it's even mentioned, and (d) pointing people to a blog written by someone else asking for mercy is <b>not</b> an explanation of your actions or a retraction or an apology. There are some great satirists out there. It's a human tradition. Posting a picture of an offensive joke, not explaining yourself, then vilifying/name calling/ignoring/redirecting those calling you out is NOT great satire. It's just a joke by a kid proving how totally and completely clueless he is about what real life as an adult is all about.<br />
<br />
He (vaguely) claims the satire is to point out rape culture. If that was his intent, he should have known why rape culture is so harmful. He should have known what it actually is. He should have known that he would offend people. He should have accepted graciously the comments (no, not the death threats) by people pointing out that he was actually contributing to the culture he was allegedly trying to point out. He should have been willing to engage in conversation. He should have learned something. I don't see any of these points as true, so I have to doubt the veracity of his claims. Calling a joke satire after the fact does not make it satire.<br />
<br />
Finally, one of the more frustrating things about this is the Lady Texan blogger's attempt to shame the people who called this kid's school.<br />
<br />
Um, no.<br />
<br />
Is he a kid? Sure. Can kids commit acts that need to be reported to the proper authorities? You bet. Is it up to those authorities to decide what to do with the information? True.<br />
<br />
Once again, the moral of the story that everyone is missing more and more lately: it is not anti-acceptance to point out and refuse to accept improper behavior. It is completely reasonable to demand every one of us be human to each other and to face the consequences when we ourselves slip up. The United States is not an anarchy. We can accept a lot, but we will not/should not accept harmful behavior. Harm can only be defined by the victim, not the attacker. We have given authorities the right to judge whether harm has been committed. So we take our case to them. If it's dismissed, that's another matter. But you don't silence victims, regardless of how anyone else views the allegations they make. If they say there is harm, they have been harmed enough to say it. Whether or not that is enough to have real consequences is not up to bystanders to decide. So can everyone please stop shouting down the whistle-blowers?<br />
<br />
ps: calling someone out is not "slacktivism"<br />
pps: cyber-stalking is bad<br />
ppps: death threats are bad<br />
pppps: the kid has mentioned suicidal thoughts, so back the fuck off. No, we don't know if he meant it. Doesn't matter.mysiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948616116208687616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8023691.post-65285064058100825092014-01-23T23:42:00.000-08:002014-01-23T23:42:28.761-08:00You Are My MedicineI am attempting to pull something elusive out from the ether that has been percolating in my brain. It is about the juxtaposition of the current American sense of of individualism and the basic human need for companionship.<br />
<br />
I recently discovered the <a href="http://thisibelieve.org" target="_blank">This I Believe</a> radio series via <a href="http://www.audible.com" target="_blank">Audible.com</a> and, while it took awhile for the slower pace to grow on me, I am now a firm believer in <i>listening</i>. We would all be a lot happier if we slowed down and listened to others now and then, and this is a great jumping off point.<br />
<br />
Two essays had content that jumped out at me, stayed with me, and are partially responsible for my current percolation. Albert Einstein and Robert A. Heinlein. How many of us are aware of the human side of Einstein? The title of the piece alone is illuminating, <a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=4670423" target="_blank">An Ideal of Service to Our Fellow Man</a>. Here I will quote a snippet:<br />
<blockquote>The individual feels more than ever dependent on society, but he feels this dependence not in the positive sense — cradled, connected as part of an organic. He sees it as a threat to his natural rights and even his economic existence. His position in society, then, is such that that which drives his ego is encouraged and developed, and that which would drive him toward other men (a weak impulse to begin with) is left to atrophy.<br />
</blockquote>Couple that vision of 1950's American individualism with Heinlein's observations of community in the same decade. His essay, titled <a href="http://thisibelieve.org/essay/16630/" target="_blank">Our Noble, Essential Decency</a>, brought tears to my ears just from hearing someone so important to me expressing feelings of hope for humanity. Here is a snippet:<br />
<blockquote>I believe in my neighbors. I know their faults, and I know that their virtues far outweigh their faults.<br />
<br />
Take Father Michael, down our road a piece. I'm not of his creed, but I know that goodness and charity and loving kindness shine in his daily actions. I believe in Father Mike. If I'm in trouble, I'll go to him. My next door neighbor's a veterinary doctor. Doc will get out of bed after a hard day to help a stray cat—no fee, no prospect of a fee. I believe in Doc.<br />
<br />
I believe in my townspeople. You can knock on any door in our town, say "I'm hungry," and you'll be fed. Our town is no exception. I found the same ready charity everywhere. For the one who says, "The heck with you, I've got mine," there are a hundred, a thousand, who will say, "Sure pal, sit down."<br />
</blockquote><br />
So what has been percolating for me, is this question of what happened to Heinlein's vision of his fellow Americans. What has happened to the notion of doing good for one another? How have we gone even further into Einstein's example, of Man avoiding Man, afraid of asking for help, afraid of needing anything or anyone at all?<br />
<br />
So with those thoughts setting up my frame of mind, I have been dwelling on my loneliness and my depression. A recent conversation brought up, again, the concept that if I don't go out and find people, I will continue to be lonely. And I have gone out. I've gone out of my way to break through all of my blockages due to depression and anxiety, and the end result was very close to nil*. Zip, zilch, nothing. So I am back in my hole at home, nursing the wounds of extending myself without reciprocation.<br />
<br />
[*No, not zero. No, not everyone's fault but mine. There was some reciprocation. There were near misses. There were huge failures on my part. In the end, I think nothing really panned out purely because of my inadequacies.]<br />
<br />
I started thinking about all of the "checkpoints" to make sure that new mother's don't get lost in the depths of post-partum depression. How every single health worker I encountered during my daughter's first year of life asked me to talk about myself, how was I doing, who did I have to talk to and share my burdens. How both of my PEPS groups set aside blocks of time to talk about PPD and the need to reach out to those in need. How I revealed to both of my PEPS groups that I had depression.<br />
<br />
And a completely new thought came to me. <br />
<br />
Healthcare workers know they need to reach out to people at risk. They quiz me, the listen, some of them even sought me up for follow-up. So why is it that normal, everyday people around you don't know this? Or if they do know it, why aren't they acting on it?<br />
<br />
I am a person very vocal about my depression. I am a first-time mother to a toddler who spends almost all of her time alone at home. Where is the line of people knocking on my door to make sure that I'm ok?<br />
<br />
This thought shocked me. It is so self-righteous. People can't be expected to just drop everything and cater to me just because I'm sad and lonely.<br />
<br />
Oh, but I'm not just sad and lonely. I have a disease. A disease with known symptoms of suicide, child abandonment, child abuse, and infanticide.<br />
<br />
Long ago I discovered that I need medications for my depression the exact same way that a diabetic needs insulin: I need it to live.<br />
<br />
Depression is like all diseases: there are things that help, and things that make it worse. So why not treat it like a disease? If I have Type 2 or 3 Diabetes, would you be inclined to sign me up for a Dessert of The Month or simply inquire about my health, my well being, and ask if I need help with anything? If I have a cancer and I'm taking chemotherapy, are you going to invite me to a rave complete with a hit of Ecstasy, or are you going to stop by for a visit, bring some chicken soup, and tidy up the dishes in the sink?<br />
<br />
I'm guessing most people would enact any of those scenarios. Most people would just stay home and live their lives, maybe drop a line on Facebook or make a phone call now and then.<br />
<br />
But while Diabetes is helped by insulin and cancer is helped by chemotherapy, depression is helped by companionship.<br />
<br />
<i>You</i> are my medicine. I've asked for a regular dosage. So where are you?<br />
<br />
I know it's difficult to get out of your comfort zone. Believe me, I've got a very small one and I stay socked in there <i>constantly</i>, so I know how hard it is to stand up, shake the dust of the rut off, and take the plunge into foreign waters. But I'm worth it, aren't I? <br />
<br />
Maybe it's a tangent, maybe it's not, but I have to rant here. I am literally sick of hearing about "baggage" and how loathsome it is. The sentiment makes my blood boil. You've got baggage, I've got baggage, the freaking Pope has baggage, I assure you. I am not less of a person, I am not less worthy of respect and love and affection, because bad things happened to me in the past. When was the last time you looked in your closet and were surprised people still like you? That's what I thought. So can this sentiment about baggage making people less. Stop this sentiment that broken people aren't worth you time. Can we <i>please</i> halt this sentiment that someone is <i>unworthy</i> of you? I am all for girlpower, but who coined the phrases "You're better than him" and "He doesn't deserve you"? Those things sound nice when your heart has been stomped on, and they absolutely apply if your man beats you, but other than that... should you really be encouraging people to believe that they are better than others? That some people are beneath them?<br />
<br />
That's about all I've got, folks. I said it was something percolating. I didn't say it was coherent. I have no solution. I have no Magic Wand of Fxing. I just have thoughts and hopes. And lately I'm hoping that we can find our way back to a sense of humanity where we're not afraid of each other or ourselves. I'm hoping we can all live in Heinlein's little town where all we have to do is ask for help and it will be given, no question asked. We're all hungry for something, and we all deserve to eat.<br />
<br />
Finally, a disclaimer: This is not a cry for help. This is not a guilt trip. This is not about you. It's not really about me, except that these are my thoughts. My thoughts on humanity. People in general.mysiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948616116208687616noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8023691.post-85754701203163706352014-01-01T03:36:00.001-08:002014-01-01T03:36:44.544-08:00Heinlein: For Us, The LivingThis one is for <a href="https://www.facebook.com/political.dave">Dave</a>.
<br><br>
So I'm on this Heinlein kick. The man is teaching me so much about so much, by just making me think about things I already knew but I wasn't really aware of. Each of his books seems to have some theme (or 2 or 12) within that resonates with me. I've just finished "For Us, The Living", his very first novel that went unpublished until quite recently, as it was found after his death. Whereas "Stranger in a Strange Land" had my mind reeling over the "man before his time" views on sexuality and religion, this book has me questioning a lot about capitalism I was taking for granting as truth. All this time, I've been convinced that communism is the best way for humanity to coexist in peace but so depressed that we couldn't ever reach a peacefulness that would allow it to work, so I've just been angry at capitalism and frustrated with democracy and livid with anyone afraid of anything that even dares to smell like socialism. But back in 1939, Robert A. Heinlein proposed that capitalism can work, and work beautifully, if we chuck out some silly ideas and drive some new ones into our thick skulls.
<br><br>
The whole thing seems to fly in the face of Ayn Rand, the movie versions of Atlas Shrugged anyway, which coincidentally I found on Netflix and watched just before reading this. That woman is a monster! Oy! Of course, Rand reminds me of Nancy Kress, ever since someone tried to give me a brief synopsis of the book and it sounded eerily similar to "Beggars in Spain", one of my favorite books of all time. And you know what? I'm not the only one seeing the connections. I Googled "Robert Heinlein Ayn Rand Nancy Kress" and found very promising hits on the first page, many of which I have bookmarked for reading AFTER I write this down. Because I didn't want my thoughts to get tainted by what others have to say until I've gotten all of this down.
<br><br>
So I've made my notes to myself, and drawn these conclusions:
<br><br>
On Kress vs. Rand: Nancy Kress rewrote the story of Atlas Shrugged, leaving behind one woman to fight for humanity but mostly just sympathize, and another woman within the enclave to come down from on high to actually do something about it. Except their meddling kinda makes things worse.
<br><br>
On Heinlein vs. Rand: Rand had an idea, Marx had an idea, Heinlein had an idea. Heinlein is pretty much the opposite of Rand. Rand wants Capitalism Deluxe where the dollar is mighty and anyone who doesn't work should be ashamed of themselves and go fuck off and die in a hole somewhere. Heinlein wants Libertarianism Deluxe where living life should be your greatest ambition, but not in a completely hedonistic couch potato way, but rather enjoy yourself, learn, educate, create, better yourself and others through the process.
<br><br>
I have notes on the rest, but that's about the gist of it.
<br><br>
But to really understand the remarkableness of what this book espouses, you have to read it. So I've just spent the past hour transcribing the 2 really important bits. But first, a tiny backstory: guy's car goes over a cliff in 1938, guy wakes up in 2075, guy has adjustment issues to current American culture, guy has interesting conversations with an economic scholar. Everything is quite different, thanks to 2 basic changes: the take over of banks to form one government bank (economic security for everyone follows, once they fight a little war that put the final snuff on the idea of an export-based economy), and the rewriting of the Constitution to ensure the total liberty of all citizens (social liberalism ensues, all thanks to a near-miss of having a wing-nut religious conservative in power).
<br><br>
Here's Heinlein in his own words, on how the only problem with Capitalism is our current allegiance to an export-based economy:
<blockquote>"It had always been the conventional point of view, especially in the economic beliefs of the conservative party, that a prosperous nation required a favorable trade balance or "gold balance" as it was formally called. In simple language, that means that a country is best off when it exports more than it imports. Phrased in that way it sounds silly, for it is surely evident that a country that ships out more than it takes in gets poorer every year in terms of real wealth. Nevertheless, there was an element of truth in it, a very practical truth at that time. The economic life was organized in such a comical fashion, that each year the country produced goods of greater value than the people of the country were able to buy back and use up. This was known as over-production, and many were the esoteric, nonsensical things said about it. But the situation was that simple. The system of necessity produced more than it consumed, of necessity...."
<br><br>
"Do you mean to say, that that was all there was wrong with business in the United States in my day?"
<br><br>
"That was all. And all of your labor troubles and poverty and physical suffering were as unnecessary as they were tragic."</blockquote>
Now here's Heinlein rewriting the Constitution to ensure Liberty for all (sorry, no mention of justice, but that's an interesting topic for later!):
<blockquote>"The members of the new Congress who had been elected on an anti-Scudder ticket were pledged to Constitutional reforms to prevent a recurrence of loss of individual liberty from any cause. In consequence, several hundred amendments were proposed in the first few days of the term. The parliamentary impasses resulted in a clever piece of lawmaking. At a caucus of the Libertarians, it was proposed and agreed to that a small representative committee draft and submit to the caucus an amendment in the form of a new constitution which, if adopted and ratified, would supersede the old Constitution in toto. The Committee consisted of 5 men and one woman, great minds, all of them." ....
<br><br>
"Their report was submitted to the caucus on 2028, April 20, and was debated in Caucus for 3 weeks. But the members of the committee had done their work so well, and in particular had been so skillful in retaining most of the wording of the original document, the new amendment was approved by the caucus without change, and submitted as a single bill signed by every member of the caucus. It's adoption, of course, was a foregone conclusion. It was ratified by the 37th state on 2028, November 12....
<br><br>
"The addition of a new restriction on the power of government. Henceforth, no law was Constitutional that deprived any citizen of any liberty of action, which did not interfere with the equal freedom of action of another citizen. Pardon me, I've stated that badly. These are the words of the new Constitution:
<br><br>
"Every citizen is free to perform any act which does not hamper the equal freedom of another. No law shall forbid the performance of any act which does not damage the physical or economic welfare of any other person. No act shall constitute a violation of a law valid under this provision, unless there is such damage or immediate present danger of such damage resulting from that act.
<br><br>
"Do you see the significance of that last provision? Up to that time, a crime had 2 elements: act of commission, and intent. Now it had a 3rd: harmful effect which must be proved in each case, as well as the act and the intent. The consequences of this change can hardly be exaggerated. It established American individualism forever, by requiring the State in each case to justify its interference with an individual's act. Furthermore, the justification must be based on a tangible damage or potential damage to a person or persons. The person damaged might be a schoolgirl injured or endangered by a reckless driver, or it might be every person in the state endangered by the betrayal of military secrets, or injured by a manipulation of commodity prices. But it must not be some soulless, super person, the state incarnate, or the majesty of the law. It reduced the state to its proper size, an instrument to serve individuals, instead of a god to be worshiped and glorified. Most especially, it ended the possibility of the majority oppressing any minority with that hackneyed, hoary lie that 'the majority is always right.'
<br><br>
"In another place in the Constitution, corporate persons were defined and declared to have no rights of any sort, except wherein they represented rights of real persons. Corporate persons could not be damaged. An act committed against a corporate person must be shown to have damaged a real person in order to constitute an offense. This was intended to clip the wings of the corporate trusts, which threatened to crowd out the man of flesh and blood."</blockquote>
Now, there is a 3rd bit, but I haven't found the relevant section to transcribe. I'm reluctant to put it in here because I don't have the support or even the wording, just the idea as I remember it. But it's just as important as the other 2 bits. So, here goes: when the US Government created the US Bank, they started giving everyone something called "Heritage Checks" to cover their monthly expenses. Where does the money come from? The Bank prints it. They just make it up when they need it. Think that's ridiculous? According to Heinlein, it's exactly what private banks are already doing (or they were in 1939) when they make out new loans. There is no longer a gold standard, so why not print money when you need it? Money only has value because we believe it does. Producing only what America actually consumes keeps pricing down, technology eliminates most menial labor jobs, health care is free.
<br><br>
If you chuck out everything you think you know about today's economy and just start over fresh without a system of overproduction or investment banking, but instead have in place an economy based on a system of simply meeting people's needs bolstered by the dollars handed out by the government each month, couldn't things get simpler and actually work?
<br><br>
The thing about capitalism that bothers me the most is that it seems it's all about getting ahead and being on top, the flip side of which is there's always going to be someone on the bottom getting screwed. Dave's brother, Cliff, likes to demand where all the money is going to come from to pay for all the "welfare" of any move towards socialism. He is convinced the economy is going to collapse, a matter of when and not if. Heinlein answers all of that: capitalism can work without being dog-eat-dog, and there is money to pay for everything because we printed it. There is no debt if you're not borrowing from anyone to print that money. Did I mention the elimination of private banks and the formation of one national bank means no government borrowing from the banks to stay in business? It becomes a trim government, to the extreme. But in this digital age, shouldn't phrases like red tape and paperwork and bureaucracy become obsolete? If government is only there to actually run things, not dicker around with balancing budgets and infighting and passing endless laws against and for things, does it really need such bloated overhead?
<br><br>
So, my question to you, why aren't we doing this? Can this work? Why not?
mysiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948616116208687616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8023691.post-77092199177396465742013-09-12T17:00:00.001-07:002013-09-13T18:59:52.458-07:00Censorship is BlashphemyWords are sacred to me. I love the way they sound, I love the way they look, I love the way they convey layers upon layers of meaning. They are an integral connection to our past, the most favored way to express ourselves in the present, and about the easiest way to communicate our visions of the future. Words can, and should be allowed to, live through millenia as messages from our past to our future selves. To silence speech is a wretched trampling of human rights. To erase speech, the attempt to erase our past, is nothing less than blasphemy. It is harmful to the whole of humanity. No one should have the power to lobotomize history. No one should want to.
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But, alas, some poor, misinformed conservative Christians in the Netherlands have convinced their local school board chairman to do just that - at an expense of €15,000. <a href="http://www.dutchnews.nl/news/archives/2013/09/school_destroys_3000_diaries_f.php" target="_blank">The design work of six students - all 3,000 copies of student diaries - were destroyed for featuring Satanic symbolism on the cover.</a> Because everyone knows that Lucifer's favored symbol is the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peace_symbols" target="_blank">peace sign</a>, designed in 1958 for the British nuclear disarmament movement. Actually, I'm pretty sure that Satan wouldn't be in favor of nuclear disarmament, but the thought probably never crossed the mind of Mr. Johan van Puten.
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You see, when confronted with anti-Satanic outrage by some local parents, the man did a little internet research - and seems to have completely bypassed any legitimate sources of information and instead skipped over to a site that sounds much more reliable than the likes of
Wikipedia, about.com, peacesymbol.org, or teachpeace.com. No, with a little research of my own, it appears that the man decided to go with the authority on all such research matters: jesus-is-savior.com. Obviously, the wikipedia preview mentioning relevant tidbits about the olive branch and ancient Greeks just wasn't catchy enough. His eyes were drawn down to more exciting words like "Satanism", "rituals", and "Yasser Arafat" mentioned in the Google preview of jesus-is-savior.com. And like any respectable member of the academic community, he looked over the first source that supported his thesis and stopped all other forms of research and came to the conclusion that the parents were right, the peace symbol is Satanic, and the diaries must go. It was a hard decision for him, but obviously the right one: "he realises wasting good paper is a poor example to his pupils. 'But you have to understand, it was the lesser of two evils'."
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Now that we've gotten down the facts - Oh, wait, those aren't the facts, now are they? I think people should be aware of some actual TRUE facts on the subject.
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Here are some that our bumbling beaurocrat may have stumbled upon at his favored research website:
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- the evil stems from the letter "V", because of the Masons (like Winston Churchill), the Illuminati, the Hebrew language (v = "van" = "nail" = the Brotherhood of Satan), Satan loves the five (V is the Roman sign for the number 5) sided PENTA-gram favored by Masons and Witchcraft, and is kept alive through current day usage by such Satanic cults as the Young Socialist Alliance, Vets for Peace in Vietnam, and the Students for a Democratic Society
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- the ACTUAL peace sign is a Teutonic (Neronic) Cross "designed" by the Commies Gerald Holtom and Bertrand Russell, but has really been around for 2,000 years because Nero so despised Christianity that he had St. Peter crucified upside-down
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- Hinduism is of the occult, blahblahblah, "witch's foot", blahblahblah, Germanic Runes, blahblahblah, Hitler, blahblahblah, Church of Satan, blahblahblah, Druids
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- The Vulcan hand sign from <i>Star Trek</i> might be <i>said</i> to mean "Live Long and Prosper", but "Vulcan" was some ancient human deity who looked suspiciously like Satan, who married Venus, aka Lucifer, so <i>Spock is the Devil!!!</i>
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- The Masons are sex fiends who wear pornographic golf pins to Church
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It never ceases to amaze me just how often the truly moronic are elevated to positions of power. It would be amusing, if only for all the merry glee one could have in correcting them, except that they are doing so much <i>harm</i> using their defective brains to weild such power. So I will sigh at the loss of those diaries and the insult to the design work of his students, and console myself with dismantling the idiocy displayed by Mr. van Puten.
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The letter "V", the Masons and Winston Churchill, certain letters of the Hebrew language, any symbol with five sides, witchcraft and Wiccans, socialists, communists, Democrats, and Vietnam Vets (regardless of their opinions on the war) are not Satanic.
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Teutonic and Neronic do not mean the same thing and are not interchangeable words. Neronic refers to the Roman emperor Nero, who may or may not have hated Christians and may have crucified a few or more, but <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cross_of_St._Peter" target="_blank">St. Peter asked to be crucified upside down as a form of humility because he felt he didn't deserve the honor of dying in the same manner as Christ</a>. The Teutonic, Black, or Iron Cross refers to the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Teutonic_Knights" target="_blank">Teutonic Knights</a>, formed during the Crusades to aid Christians on pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Crucifying someone, upside-down or right-side-up, is pretty mean but not Satanic. Christian orders, military or otherwise, are by definition not Satanic.
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The peace sign was created by superimposing the semaphore symbols for "N" (nuclear) and "D" (disarmament). No crosses were broken or otherwise harmed in its creation. Jesus and the Saints were pretty much left out of it too.
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The word "occult" means <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/occult" target="_blank">"of or pertaining to magic, astrology, or any system claiming use or knowledge of secret or supernatural powers or agencies. Or "beyond the range of ordinary knowledge or understanding; mysterious."</a> If Hinduism is of the occult, I would like Christianity to meet Mr. Pot and Mr. Kettle, both of whom share the surname Black.
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The Church of Satan <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Church_of_satan" target="_blank">doesn't believe in Satan</a>. It may sound like an oxymoron, but the Church of Satan is not Satanic.
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Everyone knows that old-school Klingons look WAY more Satanic than Spock. Because Venus was a <i>female</i> deity, it's news to me that she could be Lucifer. Maybe it's the sexyness? So, woman is no longer of the devil, but actual IS the devil. As is love, which is also Venus/Aphrodite's domain. Or was Lucifier merely play-acting in girls clothes, a transvestite at the first gay marriage in recorded history? I've heard that the guy can be tricksy like that, but that is really something. I can see why everyone dislikes him so much, pulling one over on poor Vulcan that way. Wait... But... Are you implying that Vulcan and Venus are <i>both</i> Satan and thus Satan married <i>himself?</i> Mind. Blown.
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Let this be a cautionary tale to those who would commit the blasphemy of censorship in the future: you harm your charges, you show yourself as an uneducated idiot, and you make my head hurt with your illogic. A mind-meld sounds like it could just about hit the spot right now. Peace, yo.mysiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948616116208687616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8023691.post-69205153208662430102013-08-21T15:56:00.000-07:002013-08-21T15:56:42.247-07:00Too Sexy for Her Tablet?I like <a href="http://www.psychologytoday.com/experts/pepper-schwartz-phd" target="_blank">Pepper Schwartz</a>. She's from the UW, so over the years she has appeared on local television from time to time. Usually, she is spot on. I am finding it difficult to stomach <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2013/08/21/opinion/schwartz-marissa-mayer-vogue/index.html" target="_blank">this piece</a> she wrote for CNN where she adds to the "controversy" of Yahoo CEO Marissa Mayer's fashion shoot with Vogue. To be fair, she attempted to be fair, weighing both sides of the argument playing out online.
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Schwartz sees one side may be unfair for putting Mayer on the "role model" pedestal, but there she is, so she's sending a message that brains aren't enough. On the other hand, what girl doesn't want to be pretty? In the end, she sides with the angry mob:
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"Unfortunately, it is not an exaggeration to say that Marissa Mayer is kind of saying, even though I am sure she did not mean to, that to have it all, sure, you have to be smart, but, let's face it, you also need to be beautiful."
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I'm here to call Bullshit on Pepper Schwartz. So what if she is a role model? <i>So what?</i> Is a brainy person who has succeeded on their merits supposed to at some point start going out in public with a bag over their head? Uh, <i>no</i>. There are plenty of actresses and models out there who are plenty brainy, and they don't go out in paper sacks or hide their smarts. When you've got it, flaunt it. Why the hell not? Is it really a better message for young people to hear that you <i>can't</i> be both pretty and smart, not without feeling really, really guilty about it. We do not live in the world of Harrison Bergeron. Not yet.
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I could stop there, but I have so many problems with this stance.
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Halfway through reading the piece, I found myself arguing in my head with Schwartz, "But what if it wasn't a sexy pose? What if it was just a regular headshot? Photographers take a lot of pictures during photo shoots, and this is just one. What if they had gone with something else? What if Mayer is shy and this was really hard for her to do, and the photographer talked her into it? What if she is stunned to see how good she looks?"
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I was <i>aplogizing</i> for Mayer. I couldn't believe it. Women now need an excuse to look and feel good about themselves? Would this somehow be better if she had been <i>demure</i>? Was that really where my mind was going? Had Schwartz considered this? Does any woman with an ounce of self-respect really, honestly believe a woman should only ever be demure in public, or else be labelled too sexy, a slut, a whore? I just don't think Schwartz has thought this out fully.
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Because if she had, she would have asked herself what if it had been a man in that picture? Steve Jobs might have looked kind of silly in that outfit and that pose, but what if he did an interview for Vogue and they asked him to play "sexy" for the camera. Can you imagine what the photos might look like? How exactly do you make Steve Jobs look too sexy, to detract from his public persona of intelligence? Well, you might start by showing some abs, lifting up the shirt, right?
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Mayer is fully clothed in her shot. Try again.
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Give Steve some extra hair gel and zoom in on sultry eyes?
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Mayer is shown full body.
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What exactly is it about this shot that makes Marissa Mayer too sexy for our own good, something we could duplicate with Steve Jobs to show that a man doing the same would be just as inappropriate. Um, nice shoes? Bare calves? Have him appear to be lying upside down on a lounge chair? No, no, and no. You just can't take anything "done" to Marissa Mayer for this shot and use it to turn a man into a "beefcake" no one would respect for their mind. Because the only things "done" to her are enhancements of her natural beauty. Hair, make-up, clothes, lighting, camera angle. NO SKIN. Mayer isn't too sexy for her tablet. She's just sexy.
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And there is nothing, absolutely nothing, wrong with looking sexy and being smart enough to run a company.
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Next time Jodie Foster or Michelle Obama wear make-up in public, I don't expect to see a piece just as judgmental from Pepper Schwarz. I don't think she would blink. So, with eyes open, maybe you could retract this insulting bit of unnecessary commentary?
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Footnote: I'm not a fan of Marissa Mayer. She set an incredibly high bar for working mothers when she went back to work after only 2 weeks of maternity leave, and then axed telecommuting for the entire company. She has since extended family leave benefits for her employees, but the woman still leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth. I'm not about to knock her for jumping at a chance to get gussied up for <i>Vogue</i> magazine though.mysiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948616116208687616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8023691.post-34175878595827462232013-08-20T11:26:00.000-07:002013-08-20T11:26:32.281-07:00I was Banned from an Atheist ForumFor those of you who know me a little, I might appear to be polite, "nice", maybe a little innocent or naive or shy. For those who know me a little more, you might add "kind" but remove the "innocent". If you think about it, hell if I think about it, you may come to the conclusion that I am one of those people who wants to be liked. However, the reality is that I truly just want to be understood, and second to that respected for the truth of who I am, even if you don't like that person. In all honesty, I can be a little mean, I can certainly be bitchy. I am the Queen of Whine, Sarcasm, and Understatement. Above all else, I strive to be Fair. In a disagreement, I want all parties to understand each other and hopefully respect each other's positions - I will usually break out into "moderator" mode to attempt accomplishing this. I find willful blindness infuriating. If you are going to hate something, you sure better understand it completely before you pass judgement. And for fuck's sake, be civil about it.
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So it was more than a little surprising to me when I found myself banned from an Atheist forum. I was more than a little bit hurt. Being a Stay-at-Home Mom to a little one who doesn't yet talk, it was a nice place to find a few minutes (ok, hours) a day to rub some brain cells together and enjoy some adult conversation. Of course, that really depends on your definition of adult, but I at least always attempted to remain adult and civilized on the forum.
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I was actually getting a bit annoyed with some of the members of the forum. It was getting a little predictable - far too many "let's bash religion X" posts, far too few topics that required critical thinking. I'm hard pressed to think of a single new thing I learned over the course of the few months I was active. Other than atheists have about as much in common as any two religious individuals picked at random. Or that interacting with so many people who do not speak English as their first language and who have so little in common can be quite eye-opening and frustrating and nerve-wracking.
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But I tried. I really, really did. On occasion, I did stoop to berating the willfully ignorant. I'm not proud of this. But when everyone else is doing it, and the person is making you just so <i>angry</i>, it's a bit difficult to resist the temptation to drop the pretense of rational, civil discussion and just let loose your own angry tirade.
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As far as I can tell, my few slips into confrontational jerkism had nothing to do with my ban. I usually received a pat on the back. And always, <i>always</i> the instigator of assholistic ignorance in these circumstances was banned. Let me repeat that: every time I stooped to a low level, the person I deemed to attack was banned, I was usually congratulated and/or agreed with, and no one on "my" side was banned.
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So finding myself banned has me scratching my head. I have gone over and over in my head what could have caused it. I had few interactions in the 24 hours prior to my discovery of the ban. Oh, FYI, Facebook does not tell you when you're banned. And when you are banned from a Closed Group, you can't see the page any longer. Facebook somehow takes direct links out of your history for crying out loud. Searching for the group does not pull them up. In order to confirm that the group did not simply disband, I had someone else search for the group on another account from a different device. The group still exists, it still displays over a thousand members, it's still listed as a Closed group that displays the +Join option to another Facebook user.
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So, was I accidentally deleted in a large culling of the ranks? A Group Admin had asked the Group if it was time to do this the previous day, but before an official decision was announced, that discussion devolved into some discussion of some sci-fi reference I didn't understand.
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Was it my response to the member who asked how the (Christian) lunatics could be running the asylum? I rambled off a few things about Christianity contradicting itself that really bugged me, like hatred of "unnatural" gays born in a world created by a "God" who is the creator of all life in all forms who thus by definition cannot be unnatural or a mistake. How did all-powerful God allow Satan, his creation, to rebel? Why does he let the guy stick around? I mentioned a particular lack of understanding of American Christians, since Americans seem to share a DNA quirk of hating any sort of tyranny or rule by anyone other than the self, and yet American Christians are perfectly willing, happy even, to bow down and worship a God who allows so much human suffering. End comment. No anger, no bad words, just an honest feeling of dismay. The original poster "Liked" my post.
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Was it my post in a L-O-N-G thread that had turned in a new direction the day before when I posted something about Evolution? My post this day began with "Way to take my analogy and run way, way left field with it guys." It went on to explain that I hadn't posted about evolution to somehow say I doubted it, but that there had been some arguing about "faith" and "belief" and some others had made comments about how frustrating the English language can be when we don't all agree on our definitions - because this was really what was at the core of this "argument", differing definitions of "faith" and "belief" - and so I posted a link to how scientists can't even agree on whether Evolution is theory or fact or theory AND fact. We had been arguing semantics, I was annoyed and so brought up another argument of semantics, and I come back the next day and my comment had begun a new argument of semantics. I also called out one person and asked him why he thought this other person was an evolution denier, when in truth he had never said such a thing but rather was trying to explain why he was in the camp of evolution still being "theory".
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The Group Admin "Liked" my post. He responded with something along the lines of "and thus the evolution of a post." I loved that. I hit "Like" on his post. The end.
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So we arrive to the my third and last interaction with the group. Someone had posted a link to and a copy/paste of a cutesy, feel good story about a professor on the first day of classes explaining to his students about how to important it is to pay attention to the big things in life that are the real influences on your happiness, to see how small and insignificant the rest of your life's annoyances are - basically, prioritize your relationships. Well, it so happens this professor thought that an important relationship, the first one to mention even, was a person's relationship with "God". <i>sigh</i>. So instead of ignoring that part and seeing the post for what it was - a nudge to remember what's important in life and not sweat the small stuff, most of the responses were negative. They ranged from "what's this drivel doing in an atheist forum?" to "I read up until "God" and then just heard blah, blah, blah" to "I have to read this shit every day, I shouldn't have to read it here". <i>sigh</i>. My response to all of this was something about how I was glad this was posted here, because I can use every nudge I can get to remember to step back and remember my priorities. It's too easy to get sucked into silly Facebook discussions and it's nice to get a reminder to look away and listen to my husband read to my daughter. This post is reminding us that relationships are what's important in life. Some people have a relationship with God, I don't, so I skip over that part.
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Within minutes, the Group Admin, the same one whose play on words about evolution I liked so much in the other discussion, posted something along the lines of "Having a relationship with god is akin to having a relationship with the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus." That was ALL he said.
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I was frustrated. He seemed to overlook what I'd said about appreciating the nudge to cherish what I cherish in life. He was focusing on the silliness of belief in God.
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I have not yet mentioned that the earlier "argument" about the words "faith" and "belief" were between myself, the person accused of being an evolution denier, and a 3rd person I'll call SB. SB had become a bit of a thorn in my side, constantly putting down anything that mentioned faith, belief, religion, or "God"/god. He was really coming across as if he merely wanted the Forum to be a place where everyone either agreed with each other on how awesome atheism was, or spent their time attacking religion. No critical thought or debate or shades of gray or thoughtfulness. Just "agree with me" or "stand with me to hate them". He was the one who said he only heard "blah,blah,blah" after the word "God" came up in that silly copy/paste story about the professor. When someone called him on it, he followed that with the comment about not having to read shit like that "here". Because obviously his life is so tainted by religion, he has no tolerance for it, and wants this to be a place to go to hold up and not deal with it. I hope you are all following the irony of a person tired of religion thinking that an atheist forum is going to be a place of refuge free from discussions of religion.
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SB was getting on my last nerve. That the Group Admin was giving him, and everyone else being negative about the post, a free pass to be snide against anything that dare mention "God", really chapped my ass. I waited and dwelled and considered. I took my time. Finally, I came up with a thoughtful response.
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I addressed it to the Group Admin my name, and it was something along the lines of "Group Admin, your post gives the impression that you are in the camp with SB that anything/anyone that mentions god/religion is crap. I find this mentality infuriating. 99% of the people that I hero worship have/had some sort of religious belief: Maya Angelou, Audre Lorde, Martin Luther King Jr., Gandhi, Anne Rice… Where would we be if we threw out everything ever made/created/discovered/said by someone of faith?" And I think, or at least I am very, very sure, that was all I said.
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Because I was getting very, very tired of the constant need to put down everything and everyone associated with any and all religions. And the Group Admin wasting a chance to call someone, namely SB, on that position got on my last nerve. And so I said something about it. Something calm and rational. The most incendiary thing I said was the word "infuriating". I didn't say he pissed me off, or SB pissed me off, or even the discussion or any single post pissed me off. I said a particular mind-set made me mad, and it seemed that he shared it. This left room for discussion. Was that really the impression he was trying to give? If so, why? If not, call me on it.
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No one responded. I went to bed shortly after this. The next morning, I dreaded going to Facebook. I shouldn't have used the word "infuriating". I shouldn't have used it when addressing the group admin. I shouldn't have lumped him in with someone I was annoyed with because he was flippant. <i>sigh</i> I had gone overboard and I was about to be called out for it. Dammit! But when I finally logged on to Facebook, there were no notifications from the board. No one had responded to what I'd said. Huh.
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About an hour later, still no response. That's kind of odd. Considering I had left comments on 3 discussions and I should have expected a notification of someone having said something after me in at least one of them, even if it wasn't a direct response to me. I should have gotten some sort of notification about some discussion on the board. And I had none. I opened my Notifications and there were none from the group the day before. Or the day before that. Or… ever. I looked at my Facebook Page in various places and couldn't find anything about the group, nothing that I had ever said there, no mention of me being a part of it. Was it because it was a closed group? I did a search. The group did not come up. I searched my history. My history was blank except for one place, and when I clicked on it, it said the Page could not be Found.
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I had Eric search for the group. He found it. I could not even find them in a Search.
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I was banned.
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No notice. No message. No warning. No evidence I had ever even been there.
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Holy Fucking Shit.
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It hurt. I'm not going to lie. I do want to be liked. I appreciated the brain stimulation. But what really bothered me was that I had been misunderstood. Somehow, somewhere, I had said something that a Group Admin had believed was offensive. And I had never, ever meant to be offensive to anyone. Not only was I misunderstood, but I was misunderstood on such a grand scale that I was cut off. I was silenced. I was never going to be given the opportunity to explain myself. I was never going to be given to the opportunity to be understood. I was never going to understand why I was not understood.
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It was all so trivial. It was tame. It wasn't mean. It was rational. The only swear word I used was "crap".
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I don't want to be part of a group like that. I was quickly coming to the realization that they could be just as closed-minded and bigoted a group as a bunch of Fundamentalist Christians.
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But I wasn't given the opportunity to air my grievances properly.
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And none of us are going to understand each other because the conversation was cut-off mid-sentence.
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If only there was a way to go back, read the last page like Harry in "When Harry Met Sally". I will never solve this puzzle because the mean kid packed away all the pieces and took the whole thing home with him.
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Bastards. <i>Mother Fucking Cunt-Ass-Bitch Mother Fuckers!</i>mysiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948616116208687616noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8023691.post-30560419956533530432013-08-06T15:16:00.000-07:002013-08-06T15:16:13.320-07:00You, Dear Reader, Are a FeministI am an angry feminist. Why? Because the words "feminist" and "feminism" have become warped over the years to the point that a significant part of the population, or my friends and loved ones, don't consider themselves feminists. But in reality, dear reader, you are a feminist. If you are reading this, there is a 99% chance that I know and respect and love you. And everyone I know and respect and love is a feminist. Some of you just don't seem to realize it.
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Enter Wikipedia*:<br>
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Feminism" target="_blank">Feminism</a> is a collection of movements and ideologies aimed at defining, establishing, and defending equal political, economic, and social rights for women. This includes seeking to establish equal opportunities for women in education and employment. A feminist advocates or <i><b>supports the rights and equality of women</i></b>.
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Did you see that emphasis I added there to the end? It's the important bit. Oh, the first few words are pretty damn important - people seem to think there is one definition of feminist thought, and they are wrong, wrong, wrong! - but it's that last bit that makes you a feminist. Yes, you, dear reader, I'm talking to you.
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This is something that has been rattling around my brain for quite some time. Many months ago, on a hunch I asked my Facebook friends and family if they consider themselves feminists. I am pleased to report that 8 people said yes, and only 3 people said no. But there were another 4 who gave thoughtful answers without answering the question. I can only assume that if they thought of themselves as a feminist, they would have said so. So that makes 7 people who do not call themselves feminists. 8 vs. 7. I don't like those numbers. It should be 15 vs. 0. Because 100% of you are feminists, I know it.
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K said <i>"No. But I DO believe we should get equal pay for equal work."</i>
<br>To K, I say "Equal pay for equal work is a central ideal of just about any flavor of feminism. Welcome to the Feminist Club. Do you want the bumper sticker or the lapel pin?"
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P said <i>"Well I'm not a shake-my-fist and yell "woman power" type, but I fully support gender equality. Like K, I'm not into the whole "sewer entrances" thing, but equal pay, equal opportunities, etc. Yes plz."</i>
<br>To P, I say "I really debated with myself on what column to put you under, but in the end you didn't say yes and you didn't self-label yourself as a feminist, so I put you in the "other" column. But I know you're a feminist. I do. I mean, you practically defined the word back to me. Would you like to sit next to K? She had the cookies last."
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T said <i>"No, I want to be treated like a human and with respect, forever the sexes are different and I don't wasn't to be treated with disrespect from other women because I'd rather be at home taking care of my family then trying to be all about having money and status in a career. I think women should just support each other, there its to much "in fighting"</i>
<br>To T, I say "I'm so glad you brought this up, because this goes to the core of what modern feminism is all about. Most of the feminists I know are fierce parents, many are stay-at-home Moms. And they demand to have that decision respected. You are a feminist because you choose to put family first - you made a choice about the future of your own life and you have the choice due to the feminists who came before you. So now you and everyone else better honor that or you're kicking butt and taking names. Please take a seat on the bus with your daughter, because I know you are raising her to be just as fierce as you are. There's plenty of room for your beautiful son, too."
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H had a whole lot to say on the matter, <i>"No, because the older I've gotten the more I just want to fight for the rights of people, regardless of sex or cultural background. I realize this may be idealistic/unrealistic because there are certain issues that are specific to women but in some ways I feel we have swung too far to one side. We need to find a happy medium and not pit the sexes against each other. We need to work together. My current world view centers around my children and having one of each I find it interesting the differences of how each are treated. Also because of the age of my kids, my focus is mainly on education. I see all these school programs geared toward girls, yet it is the boys that have dramatically fallen behind in school. Boys test lower in all subjects, and recently that includes math and science, more boys drop out of school and more girls go onto college and graduate from college. Women hold the majority of jobs and some how we still get paid lower. That part I don't understand and asked my own Facebook friends what they thought about it. So overall great for women, but now what about the boys? We need to help STUDENTS who need help. Education is just one area of feminism but recently this has been a focus in our family. Certainly there are many parts to feminism - equal pay, crime, health, etc but in an ideal world we should be fighting for everyone but then if everything were equal we wouldn't need to fight so much. Sorry this post was a bit rambling but I do think at the core of feminism was/is equal rights for the sexes but like I said earlier I feel we have now created situations where men have reasons to fight for their own equality but yet we women still aren't completely equal in others. So how about I'm a equalist. Just want to add, that my thoughts apply to the U.S. and other first world countries. In many parts of the world, women are suffering and there is much to be done."</i>
<br>To H, I say "If it's rambling, it was a brilliant, feminist ramble. I just wish you could self-label that way. You are a feminist because you want to fight for people's rights, because you are idealistic, because you want the sexes to work together, because you are concerned about the education of your children, because you rally for boys, because you are an equalist, and you realize that women in other parts of the world are suffering. Come in, take a seat next to your daughter, and make room for your son - with someone as strong, intelligent, and opinionated as yourself as his mother, he is going to be an amazing man who believes in equality.
<br><br>
B said <i>"I am not clear on what it really means. I am in favor of equality. If I am in favor gay rights am I a homosexualist."</i>
<br>To B, I say "Tut tut. I have never said that to anyone in my life, but you get it a second time: tut tut. Don't mince words, I know you speak quite eloquently and know how to use a dictionary. You are a feminist because you are in favor of equality. Why don't you see if there are any cookies left?"
<br><br>
PD said <i>"Interesting because my first thought would be no, but it is a little gray in places. I believe in inherent differences between the sexes as a generality (the average woman tends to be more emotional and the average man tends to be more physical, etc.) I think those differences need to be honored and celebrated. With exceptions, the average woman would make a terrible ironworker and the average male would make a terrible child care worker. Again, these are gross generalities. With that being said, I think there are double standards that need to be eliminated. Watching American Idol with my wife the other night, BOTH female judges were commenting on the male contestants sexiness, manliness, and such. If one of the male judges would have said to a female "I think you are so sexy and hot and I want you to have my baby", there would have been an uproar. At the same time, there are thousands of examples of men getting preferential treatment over women when none is due.
I think it is the job of society to make social changes to correct attitudes, not the governments. The government has a role to make standards for themselves and to ensure businesses obey the law, yet I think it goes too far to have them decide or influence wages. I believe any job or position should be on merit alone, the ability to do that job, period. Whether it is race or gender or whatever, that should be the standard, no lower standards for anyone. In the military, women still have significantly lower physical requirements to achieve the same score and get into the same jobs, this is wrong. Men still get significantly more money in business for doing the same job as women, this is wrong also. Again, merit based and nothing else.
Where I think feminism goes too far is reproduction issues. I don't think it is the job of government to force taxpayers to provide contraception or abortions for an individual. If we are a merit-based society then each person should be responsible for the decisions they make and what they do with their body. If you want to be on the pill, great. If you decide to have an abortion, that is your right, go for it. However, it is not right to make ME or anyone else pay for your decisions.
Where I think feminism succeeds is changing attitudes within individuals. Most great social change starts with grassroots groups changing the hearts and minds of large groups of people to their way of thinking, not government mandating something and people reluctantly following. Equality in the workplace will happen much faster if individuals complain about inequality in their hometown company, which is where large support organizations come into play."</i>
<br>To PD, I say "You never disappoint me when it comes to hard topics requiring self analysis. Would you like to sit down before I continue? I don't want my favorite conservative to fall over when I tell him he's a feminist. You earned your ticket on the bus when you said the word 'celebrated' - celebrating women for being women is most definitely a feminist ideal. Your reaction to women getting away with what amounts to catcalling of men comes from a place of equality, because you made the connection that men would be treated badly for doing the same thing - wanting equality, not domination of a single sex over the other, is the core ideal of most feminists. You believe women should succeed based on their merit. You are in favor of pointing out inequality on the local, personal level. I am most honored to have you aboard."
<br><br>
C threw this out there while she was running by, <i>"I like A's response."</i>
<br>To C, I say "I wish I could put you in the 'yes' column, but technically if you like someone's response, that doesn't necessarily mean you share the opinion. I believe that's what you meant though, and since A self-identified as a feminist, I welcome you to the bus. And let me just take this opportunity to assure you that although you may not have noticed it until recently, I am very aware that you have been a feminist for as long as I've known you and much longer than that. You raised three smart, sensitive, critical-thinking kids with your husband (FYI, I've got a pass for him if he wants to swing by later). You went to college, earned a degree, learned a profession, and pursued it passionately. You care about people and children, you support women who are alone, you give brilliant advice and heaps of moral support. You've travelled the world to help others. That quite possibly makes you the most influential feminist on this list. I salute you."
<br><br>
Is it getting crowded back there? Hey, T, M, P, L, H, V, A, and MD, you all be sure to make room for the new comers and give them a warm welcome. I hope you're not hogging the cookies. All 15 of you have earned your fill. Thanks for making me a happy feminist again, I love you.
<br><br>
So where should we take this bus next?
<br><br>
*For all of you Wikipedia-doubters, Dictionary.com, Merriam-Webster, and Google definitions all agree, almost word for word.
mysiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948616116208687616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8023691.post-54682044147296280402013-06-06T21:30:00.001-07:002013-06-06T21:30:44.202-07:00Fight ApathyOnce again, something is kicking around in my brain, wanting to bubble to the surface as something meaningful, and I am linked to an article that shakes things loose.<br />
<br />
Ever heard of cultural normalization? It's really just a sociology term called <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Normalization_(sociology)" target="_blank">normalization</a>, defined as "social processes through which ideas and actions come to be seen as "normal" and become taken-for-granted or 'natural' in everyday life." I may have heard this term in college and forgotten about it, because the concept has been that thing kicking around my head for weeks and weeks.<br />
<br />
The term came up today in a series of links related to the recent Facebook decision to change their policy regarding humor about rape and domestic violence. Specifically, in an article commenting on the thin line between humor and vulgarity and censorship through the eyes of one woman's barrage of rape-joke feedback after expressing her views on the topic. From <a href="http://www.dailylife.com.au/news-and-views/how-dangerous-is-it-to-be-a-woman-on-the-internet-with-an-opinion-20130606-2nsay.html" target="_blank">How dangerous is it to be a woman on the internet with an opinion?</a> by Clementine Ford:<br />
<blockquote>
Get upset over being told (as West was) that someone’s going to rape you with a traffic cone - even though they don’t even find you attractive - and you’re being ‘sensitive’ and taking things too personally. But tell a man you don’t like his joke about rape and it’s like Stonewall all over again. You might as well call him a RAPIST, which is like, the worst thing you can ever say to a man EVER. He’s not a rapist! He just thinks rape is funny! Not in real life, silly. Just fake life. Anyway, stop being so mean :( </blockquote>
<br />
There is some fascinating reading out there right now about this topic, but that wasn't where I was going with this. No, my topic today is my utter consternation that conservatives seem to have absolutely <i>no idea</i> of the power of culture on our society, so much so that I imagine they would argue that "normalization" does not exist. I have not yet had that conversation, but it is the conversations I've had and comments that I've read that leads me to this supposition.<br />
<br />
Actually, all of this began a few months ago during some debates about gay marriage. I have never had my patience so tried as I did while I attempted to remain sane and calm listening to conservatives not attack gay marriage, but dismiss it out of hand as a states rights issue. The apathy I felt rolling in waves from the internet showed me the greatest chasm I have discovered yet between conservatives and liberals.<br />
<br />
It completely blows my mind that virulently homophobic individuals will use normalization as a reason to oppose any sort of gay rights, but then conveniently forget the concept exists when it works against them. The "gay agenda" is in fact (a largely imaginary) example of normalization - allow gays an inch, they'll take a foot and suddenly gay marriage will be forced on everyone until the species dies out! But take these exact same folks and try to explain to them that allowing discriminating laws against gays (or allowing bullying against gays, or allowing gay slurs to go unchallenged, etc) is in fact normalizing homophobia, and watch them whip out their denials ala "hate the sin, not the sinner" fast enough to make your head spin.<br />
<br />
Normalization is real. Culture is powerful. Stop denying it. Fight apathy as you would fight hate. Who is committing the worse crime, the criminal or the silent observer?mysiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948616116208687616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8023691.post-43291947912905270442013-06-02T11:09:00.002-07:002013-06-02T11:16:55.167-07:00Capitalism and Spirituality and Humanity's Future<blockquote>
<b>"If consumers found fulfillment at any meaningful level," she extemporized, "Corpocracy would be finished." Thus, media is keen to scorn colonies such as hers, comparing them to tapeworms. Accusing them of stealing rainwater from Rain Corp, royalties from Veg Corp patent holders, oxygen from Air Corp. The Abbess feared that, should the day ever come when the board decided they were a viable alternative to Corpocratic ideology, the tapeworms would be renamed terrorists. "Smart bombs will rain, and our tunnels flood with fire."</b></blockquote>
<br />
<br />
I'm currently listening to the audible book version of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Cloud-Atlas/dp/B0006QAHHE" target="_blank">Cloud Atlas</a> by David Mitchell. The movie made quite an impact, but there were questions that I wondered could they be answered by reading the book. I have had my questions answered, but am sobered by the knowledge that, at least so far, it seems the book is not as optimistic as the movie. You see, the story is one of interwoven lives over hundreds of years, of reincarnated lives actually, and the backdrop is the evolution/de-evolution of human society.<br />
<br />
In the far distant future, humanity's last great civilization is a corpocracy of astonishing technology and brutality. The words "citizen" and "consumer" are used interchangeably. It is a frightening glimpse into our possible future. A future I see as much too plausible. Hence, I have been ruminating darkly this past week.<br />
<br />
Today, I was linked to two articles within minutes, their inter-connectedness with each other and my current thoughts leaving me breathless with unease.<br />
<br />
The first, <a href="http://www.newrepublic.com/article/113299/leon-wieseltier-commencement-speech-brandeis-university-2013#" target="_blank">"Perhaps Culture is Now the Counterculture", A Defense of the Humanities</a>, a commencement address to Brandeis University graduates by Leon Wieseltier of New Republic. Here is a quote:<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
"The machines to which we have become enslaved, all of them quite astonishing, represent the greatest assault on human attention ever devised: they are engines of mental and spiritual dispersal, which make us wider only by making us less deep. There are thinkers, reputable ones if you can believe it, who proclaim that the exponential growth in computational ability will soon take us beyond the finitude of our bodies and our minds so that, as one of them puts it, there will no longer be any difference between human and machine. La Mettrie lives in Silicon Valley. This, of course, is not an apotheosis of the human but an abolition of the human; but Google is very excited by it."</blockquote>
<br />
<br />
Then the second article, <a href="http://www.solidproofs.com/2013/06/is-google-god.html" target="_blank">Is Google God ?</a> by Karthik Karunakaran at Armed With The Truth. To quote:<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
PROOF #1<br />
Google is the closest thing to an Omniscient (all-knowing) entity in existence, which can be scientifically verified. She indexes over 9.5 billion Webpages, which is more than any other search engine on the web today. Not only is Google the closest known entity to being Omniscient, but She also sorts through this vast amount of knowledge using Her patented Page-rank technology, organizing said data and making it easily accessible to us mere mortals."</blockquote>
<br />
<br />
As I said, I have been thinking quite darkly these past days about the plausibility of our current culture evolving into one of Corpocracy. It's been in the back of my mind for awhile now, after reading the book <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Jennifer-Government-Novel-Max-Barry/dp/0385507593" target="_blank">Jennifer Government</a>, and then the Supreme Court granting personhood to corporations. My conservative friends talk about jobs going overseas because there are too many restrictions on corporations here, the implication being that corporations be given free reign in pursuit of the All American Dollar. Daily, it seems conservatives would see our capitalistic form of economy grow to become a corpocratic form of government. Does this not frighten them? They worship the dollar with one face, and the Constitution with the other, but they don't see how the dollar could take over and abolish that other half so easily.<br />
<br />
Economics not being my strong suit, I must leave those thoughts there as half-formed ponderings. This morning what strikes me is my near-complete aversion to the commencement address by Wieseltier. Why should I respond so negatively?<br />
<br />
The lesser reason is the attack against technology. If I am a slave to the American Dollar, I am a willing supplicant to Technology. It is my friend, my lover, my parent, quite possibly my god? Not quite.<br />
<br />
The greater reason, the real reason I dislike this piece, is that it rails against the elevation of Science to religion.<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
Owing to its preference for totalistic explanation, scientism transforms science into an ideology, which is of course a betrayal of the experimental and empirical spirit. There is no perplexity of human emotion or human behavior that these days is not accounted for genetically or in the cocksure terms of evolutionary biology. It is true that the selfish gene has lately been replaced by the altruistic gene, which is lovelier, but it is still the gene that tyrannically rules. Liberal scientism should be no more philosophically attractive to us than conservative scientism, insofar as it, too, arrogantly reduces all the realms that we inhabit to a single realm, and tempts us into the belief that the epistemological eschaton has finally arrived, and at last we know what we need to know to manipulate human affairs wisely. This belief is invariably false and occasionally disastrous. We are becoming ignorant of ignorance. </blockquote>
<br />
<br />
Did I mention that my Facebook feed has become inundated with posts by my Atheist group? Someone posted a list of "fight the government, fight capitalism, fight the status quo" talking points. A very angsty member went on a tirade against it. Here's a juicy bit:<br />
<blockquote>
No - fuck you! Change your fucking attitude and learn to respect history. Change your stupid hippie pink glasses and put something more realistic there. I will keep working and consuming and enjoying my existence because I want and because fuck you. My work is valuable, my time is valuable, and it costs money. And I am glad to be a part of it. I can get debts and then I use them to make more money and bring them back. Because you are incompetent, doesn't mean debt is slavery. It means you make shitty decisions with your money and you blame someone else for it.</blockquote>
<br />
<br />
He wants to consume. <i><b>Consume!!!</b></i> I can only imagine he means more than food. He wants things. And today, that means technology.<br />
<br />
I am taken aback. I don't want to be a blind consumer. I don't want to be a worshiper. But I don't like this whole spiel being testified by Wieseltier either. Why. <i>Why?</i><br />
<br />
Have you guessed yet? All of the worship talk I've been interweaving should be a clue. On my mind is not just the dollar and technology but worshipfulness and spirituality and morality.<br />
<br />
My problem with Wieseltier is not necessarily his message, but in the manner he is delivering it: a subtle undertone of spirituality. He talks of good and evil, he calls evolutionists "cocksure", he includes a bit about a philosopher who "wondered why God, if He wanted us to know the truth about everything, did not simply tell us the truth about everything." Did you catch the part where he growls at liberal "scientism" for the way it "arrogantly reduces all the realms that we inhabit to a single realm"?<br />
<br />
Another article today, this one I didn't bother to read, <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/05/31/kathleen-taylor-religious-fundamentalism-mental-illness_n_3365896.html?repost" target="_blank">Kathleen Taylor, Neuroscientist, Says Religious Fundamentalism Could Be Treated As A Mental Illness</a>. Did you hear my jaw drop?<br />
<br />
My problem with Wieseltier is that it has drawn out a problem I have within myself. This dancing on the fence between Atheism and Agnosticism. In mixed company, I defiantly proclaim myself as an Atheist, spouting its dogma with passion and no little amount of anger. When I am more myself, I admit that I am instead an "Agnostic", an I-don't-knower, with varying amounts of idealistic whimsy about the possibilities that may exist instead of "God".<br />
<br />
Why? Because religion terrifies me. I have seen its works, past and present and imagined future, and there is no better way to describe my reaction to it. Why? Because of what it does to people when they are weak, it takes them over, gives them the strength of self-conviction, turns them into prosthelytizers and skull crackers and Inquisitors and Jihadists. What non-believer can step back and <i>not</i> fear that kind of power?<br />
<br />
And so I rally against religion in all its forms publicly. I want it to have no place in my world. I don't even want it to have a toehold. At my worst, I am capable of becoming just as irrational as what I fear. To the extent that I could react with distaste and suspicion to a beautiful and powerful commencement address that should speak to the very heart of me.<br />
<br />
I need to remember that place in me that questions all dogma, even my own. I need to remember that place that questions existence and belief and information. I need to remember myself.<br />
<br />
That atheist group is currently bickering about true definitions of atheism, not eloquently or rationally, but by name calling in the middle of discussions of the possible existence/non-existence of spirits.<br />
<br />
It astonishes me how all of these things so tied into my current psychological/philosophical earworm have appeared in front of me in the space of minutes. This happened to me a few weeks ago, and I let it all slip through my fingers without writing down my response to it all. I let go of something very powerful that could have defined my future so clearly, and I am so angry with myself for letting it go. So I just had to catch onto this smaller re-enactment before that too slid away.<br />
<br />
I only hope others out there can follow my thinking. Tying capitalism and atheism and spirituality and technology all together in this rambling piece comes straight from my head where I can see the glowing chords of connection. I hope I've illuminated those connections enough for others to see them as well.mysiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948616116208687616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8023691.post-52210596667622714842013-05-19T21:59:00.000-07:002013-05-19T21:59:20.220-07:00Yep, Still Liberal<br />
I've had this thing kicking around my head for a few weeks now, this intention to write a Grand Treatise, some sort of Theory of Everything about my worldview. I've just had all these events and ideas pop into my head on a daily basis, building on each other. Unfortunately, writing something as enormous as that while raising a 1 year old is just insanely difficult.<br />
<br />
Today, I will bite off a single part.<br />
<br />
See, I'm a liberal, flaming variety. I have quite an affection for the term "godless pinko liberal", using it to describe myself often. Over the past 3 years, I've had my eyes opened to the world of Conservatives. I've seen the places where we're not so far apart, and been re-introduced to those chasms where we stare at each other from opposite sides, goggling at each other like the other has 3 heads. This time has helped me redefine myself, it's helped me rethink how I see the world and other people, and it's helped me realize that I'm still a flaming liberal and always will be.<br />
<br />
So here's a minor annoyance I have with Conservatives. Some of them seem to have a problem with anyone who calls themselves "progressive". Seems Progressivism is tied to some history that Conservatives think should embarrass us. Just like many still believe Communism is Evil because of Marx's ideas about over-throwing the government violently, some believe calling oneself "progressive" means they support anyone who was ever identified as progressive. I have been told that because I self-label as "progressive", I must know all about and support Margaret Sanger's racist eugenics plan to weed out the "unfit" races.<br />
<br />
My response to that is to sit back, scratch my head, and whisper "Wow. Just, wow."<br />
<br />
Did you know that the KKK was founded by Democrats? I sure didn't. But today I was told that this tidbit was somehow relevant to the current IRS scandal. Huh? I don't know if it's true, and I don't care. Why? Because the KKK was relevant in small towns over a century ago and has become less and less relevant as time has marched on. I've been told that Democrats were for slavery and Republicans started the movements for civil rights and conservation. Really? Awesome.<br />
<br />
Can we get back to today now? To the fact that the Democratic Party elected a black man named Barak Obama to the Presidency? Whatever racists once called themselves, who cares? I'm not a member of the KKK, none of my friends are, none of my family. I don't support eugenics or slavery. You know why? Because I live in 2013 and that is the PAST.<br />
<br />
Funny thing about the word "progressive", it has nothing to do with eugenics. It comes from the word "progress", and it's about moving forward. You know, moving away from the past? And the word liberal? It doesn't mean "hates Conservatives", it doesn't mean "fiscally irresponsible", it doesn't mean "plays the race card". Nope, it means open to new ideas. Here is a beautiful definition, "Not limited to or by established, traditional, orthodox, or authoritarian attitudes, views, or dogmas; free from bigotry."<br />
<br />
So yes, I'm for progress and against tradition for tradition's sake, so yep, I'm a progressive liberal. Not a member of the KKK who support eugenics. Step into the current century people, and pick up a dictionary while you're at it.<br />
mysiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948616116208687616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8023691.post-22055962486273237932013-01-08T00:38:00.000-08:002013-01-08T00:38:02.000-08:00Now We Are 40I am a week away from turning 40. Never in a million years did I expect this life for myself. My teenage self would be shocked. My 20s self would be shocked. In my teens, I wanted the world. In my 20s, I didn't know what I wanted. In my 30s, I wanted a child.<br /><br />I have the child, finally. And little else. Oh, I have so very much going for me on the surface. I have a home, a loving husband, there is steady income, healthcare, food on the table. We have 2 cars, enough money to feed and clothe and entertain the baby. The baby is happy and healthy and fun and funny and annoying and scary and breathtaking and beautiful and awe inspiring and heartmelting and dumbfounding and confounding and we laugh all the time. But I cry as much as I laugh.<br /><br />I wonder, would I have kept a handle on my depression, kept it from becoming Post Partum Depression, if there had been more people in my life? I've tried everything I can think of. I joined 2 different mommy groups. I've tried to include the families more. I set up a weekly get together with my sister-in-law.<br /><br />I just can't get around it - there is no one in my life, not on a regular, daily basis, other than my husband and my baby. I have no Best Friend. I haven't in years. I barely have friends. Most of my communication with the people I care about is over the internet. I have no one that I can call at 3am in an emergency. I have no one that I can call at 2pm with an emergency. I have no one that I can call and just say "I'm crying, can you please come over?"<br /><br />How do you go about fixing that exactly? I've looked online. That is a joke. If somehow you can get around all the people you have nothing in common with, then around the people who insist "no drama" and "you must be sane", then around the people who don't write you back even though you have a million things in common, THEN how do you write something not completely needy and desperate? This is my life: I'm writing to no one on the internet, crying my eyes out as my husband and daughter sleep blissfully upstairs, won't you please be my friend?<br /><br />How did I get here? Oh, lots of ways actually. People I've distanced myself from, people who have distanced themselves from me. Shyness. Being shy is the hardest obstacle. Fear of being myself around others because I'm so "different" I won't be accepted, so I don't reach out. When the "true" me is this carefully wrapped mess barely hanging together, it's hard to go out in public, let alone be yourself. And when you're not being yourself, it's hard to connect with people.<br /><br />I'll feel better in a few days. My routine was messed with and I got off my medication. I'm back on now, I just have to wait for it to kick in. The difference in my thoughts is night and day. But being on the medication won't fix my dilemma: I'm still lonely and friendless. The medication just keeps me from spending all day weeping about it.<br /><br />If I wasn't so lonely, would I stop being so bitter about my childhood? Would I stop resenting my family for not protecting me? Would I stop being so angry at people who insist on being positive? Would I stop resenting other people's success? Would I stop wanting to shout at Christians who are so thankful for their god who gave them such great lives and allowed me to grow up abused?<br /><br />For as long as I can remember, it's not horror movies that terrify me, it's real life. For the longest time I lived my adult life waiting for the other shoe to drop and I thought I had finally gotten past that. Maybe not. If anything, now that the baby is here, I am more terrified of the randomisity of life.<br /><br />Today, the thing that I am most angry about is myself. I have found another Proof that the Christian god does not exist: me. If a truly all-loving, all-knowing, and all-powerful God existed, my child would not have been born to me. My child would not have to grow up with a mother suffering from depression. If "God" existed, I would not have have been abused as a child myself, thus creating that depression. "God" allowed my father to be abused as a child, allowed him to grow up and abuse his own children, then allowed me to have a child who will suffer because of the incorrect coping strategies my childhood beat into my subconscious. <br /><br />Tomorrow will be better. I just have to keep telling myself that.<br /><br />A few years ago, someone I cared about very deeply said something about me being selfish. I was flabbergasted and affronted. I've had the time to realize that not only was she right, but that I think it's due to the depression. Both having and trying to heal from depression keeps you constantly tuned to yourself. When the depression is at its worst, I spend a lot of my time seeking out anything and everything that will make me feel better, everything else be damned. When I'm on top of my depression, I am constantly analyzing and re-analyzing my inner-monologue to make sure I'm not thinking "crazy thoughts". I spend a LOT of time in my own head.<br /><br />And now it's late. I was attempting at some sort of cohesiveness here, but my thoughts are just all over the place in a million different directions lately. Comes from not writing when I should. If I write more often, I can write about one topic at a time as it comes to me, instead of going weeks or months and then having to jam all those thoughts into one short session. The problem is, my current weapon of choice against depression is mind numbing it with useless interneting. Writing makes me think just a little too much about my problems. It's so much easier to pretend they're not there and spend my days clicking mindlessly...mysiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948616116208687616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8023691.post-62324905990245873612011-08-06T07:12:00.000-07:002011-08-06T07:13:24.476-07:00Realistic Pessimism + Closet OptimismHere I am again, awake too early on the morning of a scheduled pregnancy test. This time, I have zero interest in self testing. Yay! I am kind of stumped though - whatever the outcome, how do I make myself believe it? I was explaining my thinking last time, that whatever that test revealed, I wouldn't believe it without self testing, when someone pointed out that no, I would believe it if it were negative. It's so much easier to believe the negative.<br />
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How very, very true. If I were to self-test right now and got a negative result, I would be devastated again and believe it right away. Except for a little niggling of doubt spurred by hope. A little hope can be a dangerous thing.<br />
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But if I got a positive result at home, no way would I be able to believe it! I would just be a million times more anxious to get to the appointment, and then waiting for the results to come in!<br />
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But the question remains, should I bring a pregnancy test with us? So that when the phone call does come, I can confirm it? What can they say to convince me it's really true if it's positive? I really don't know.<br />
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As I'm remembering more, I think it was Susan that I had this conversation with, who said it was easier to believe the negative. Because I remember telling her that I'm a pessimist, who tries to be a realist, but is a closet optimist.<br />
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I am usually intensely pessimistic: I stomp around with all my negative thoughts, telling myself "it will never happen". But most of the time, I have reason(s), ie: it's never worked right before. I try very hard to be realistic. But under it all, there is always this tiny, fantastical hope - because I want to believe in miracles. <br />
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I think I've mentioned before that it is impossible for me to believe <i>anything</i> 100%. I am 99.999999% sure that: the sky is blue, the earth is round, my cats can't talk, my husband loves me, etc...<br />
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So here I am with my extreme pessimism, and my fantastical hope. "It will never happen. This part won't work, that thing will go wrong, someone isn't good enough. But oh! What if I'm wrong? What if by some miracle, all those obstacles are overcome? What if it really happens?! No, never. Too much will go wrong..."<br />
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I'm tired just typing all that, and yet it cycles continuously through my mind when I'm anxious/worried about something.<br />
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Ridiculous optimisms I have actually thought of at least cursory contingency plans for: I might still get pregnant on my own, my cat will pull through this, she may forgive me, he may still love me, someday I may trim down to 125 lbs, someday I may be able to get off my antidepressants, it's possible to be up over $100 in craps, Jon Stewart might read my blog, someone might publish my blog, I will finish the novel I started when I was 11 years old, Simon le Bon will become infatuated with me...<br />
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There are so many variables out there, how can anyone believe in anything at all? How does that admonishment go... "and you might get hit by a bus tomorrow, but if you keep focusing on that, you'll go crazy!"<br />
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DingDingDing! I am absolutely bat-shit crazy! So <i>that's</i> where it all started....mysiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948616116208687616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8023691.post-75302035827360515312011-07-28T09:21:00.000-07:002011-07-28T09:21:11.378-07:00we are doing it wrongI was hoping to have my 3rd and last post about Forgiveness/Bitterness out of me and up on the blog by now, to be cleansed of it. It's really just a collection of interesting things I found on the net about Forgiveness that I have a LOT to say in response. I've noted it all down, so we'll see whatever comes of that...<br />
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Today is huge. It is our 2nd attempt at an embryo transfer. I have been trying unsuccessfully to get into the headspace I want to be in when I go in for the appointment.<br />
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I will probably meditate later this morning. I think it's really what I need right now.<br />
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Nature is good too, especially the beach. I got some bad news on Tuesday and couldn't believe how yet again I was letting outside influences completely change my emotional state. I was desperate to get out of this funk caused by a simple phone call to set up an appointment! I decided to screw the tide tables and just head out to the beach @ Edmonds. Unfortunately, it was high tide.<br />
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One of these days, I intend to start a second blog where I just write about all of the mishaps, ironies, Murphy's Law type stuff I deal with on a daily basis. I seriously think I have reverse luck. That sounds kind of like a downer blog, so maybe I'll just make it a Tag. The thing is, I have reached a point in my life where it happens so often, it makes me <i>laugh</i>. Ever heard of someone put under so much stress/anxiety/danger that they go kind of hysterical, their voice gets higher, they start babbling quickly, and eventually start laughing in a panicky kind of way? Think of <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0090605" target="_blank">Aliens </a>, when Hudson keeps repeating "Game over, man! Game over!" If not that moment, then at some other crucial point he starts to smile and almost laugh - laughing in disbelief.<br />
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That will be the title of my blog!<br />
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Back to the beach, I found a solitary bench and sat down to watch the water. It did nothing. I almost got up to leave after only a minute, but then I told myself that I came here for a reason, and I should at least relax a little. So I closed my eyes to attempt to relax. Within moments, I could hear the waves on the shore, and I was taken back to other times when that sound has relaxed me and uplifted me. I began to meditate, only concentrating on the sound of the waves as I tried to relax my body section by section. Sometimes, I get the most amazing experience at the end. I get down to my feet, feel my feet on the ground, and something goes through me and into the ground and out into the world, golden tendrils of connectedness. Sometimes it is real, and the experience borders on the religious. Sometimes, I force the image in hopes to spur on the real thing. That's what I had to do, force it. Of course this never works! But instead of giving up, I just went back to focusing on only the waves.<br />
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Well, I may not have felt a joyful connectedness to the world around me, but in the back of my mind I was still thinking about the earth and nature and my/our connection to it. A single thought came to me: <i>we are doing it wrong.</i><br />
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It started out as a general impression of humanity polluting the oceans, but quickly grew to other thoughts. They were just flashes, an impression with a vision and an emotion and then it was gone. The ferry, the cars, the ipods , the garbage... these are wrong for the beach, wrong for the planet, wrong for us. Money, television, technology, computers, grocery stores: it's all wrong.<br />
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And then the moment was over. But yesterday something Carmen talked about brought it back. The conversation moved from motherhood to parenting to social norms in parenting to cultural differences in parenting. She said in Western culture, it is so important for us to be independent. We live in these small, "nuclear" families with just parents and children. We tell out kids to grow up and be adult and take on responsibility and suck it up - we want them to be as independent and prepared for that cruel outside world when they're finally forced to leave home. Seriously, there are parents who think that because the world is going to be cruel to their child, they need to be mean in order to toughen them up. What?? Shouldn't home be a nurturing place? A place of love and safety? There are non-Western cultures, especially tribal cultures, where family are multi-generational. More people to work and support the home and expenses, more people to parent the children, more attention, more love, a banishment of isolationism.<br />
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We are using our cars and the internet and phones and television to reach all parts of the world - but somehow we are managing to increase our isolation at the same time.<br />
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More and more, I want to chuck it all and go live on a farm. Raise animals, grow my own food, make my own clothes, watch the sunset instead of television. I seriously believe that what we all need is a kick back into the past before electricity.<br />
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The thought is both appealing and horrifying at the same time. I'm addicted to the internet, I like my TV shows, I love listing to the music of any band in the world with the click of a mouse. I'm addicted to money, I like to shop, I want fancy furniture and carpets and a new deck. I love running water, toilets, water heaters, air conditioning. I love to travel, I need modern medicine, I'm germphobic. <br />
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I have no useful survival skills. I don't think I can ever slaughter an animal. Starting a vegetable garden would be next to pointless because I can't stand most vegetables. I don't know how to make my own clothes. After watching the sunset, my choices of entertainment will be reading by candlelight or learning to knit.<br />
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My body is so broken, I couldn't pull my own weight on a sustainable farm. I simply would not survive the first year after an apocalypse.<br />
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I think humanity and the earth could co-exist in a positive way even with technology. I think it would require the elimination of money though. And politics probably. Yah, riiiiight, that'll happen!<br />
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Still, I am worried about us. We're just not doing it right.mysiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948616116208687616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8023691.post-55426134902853895002011-07-22T11:37:00.000-07:002011-07-22T11:51:36.680-07:00Forgiveness, Part 2I had originally intended to write about Forgiveness in two parts, as I had two separate experiences/ideas to write about. But the universe did its thing, throwing all sorts of relevant conversations and stories at me this week. There has been so much to think about and digest, I can't keep up with it all! For now, I go back to my original plan and the topic I had meant to write about next. I imagine some things from this week will filter in. I'll have to see when I'm finished how much is left unsaid that still needs to be addressed later...<br />
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In my last post, I wrote about my need to learn how to forgive my mother. Today, I want to talk about my inability to forgive my father, something that may not just be impossible, but that can be argued may or may not be in my best interest to attempt. I don't want to talk about my father in specifics. There is too much there, and it is all very painful, which will make what I'm attempting to do here much more emotional than I'd like. I'm trying to examine myself, my feelings, the way I think, my opinions - to reconcile this with the outer world, the "normal" world. I don't want to dwell in the past, I want to deal with my present mindset. <br />
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But I need to be clear about a few things. First, I believe my father to be the second most evil individual I have ever met. Two, during my childhood my father was violent, alcoholic, quick to anger, extremely volatile - I believe he was/is suffering from schizophrenia, bi-polar disorder, or some other psychotic personality disorder. Three, my mother on the other hand was/is merely neurotic. Four, I believe my father should be rotting away in some prison right now for the crimes he has committed against me and my family, as well as others with the misfortune of having been in his life. Five, the most evil person I have ever met was my father's step-father, the biological father of my dad's brothers - but not genetically responsible for my father or his sister.<br />
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. . .<br />
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I had a full session with my therapist this week, knowing I had more to talk about than just the usual half-hour check-in appointment could allow for. I talked about my bitterness, how hard it is for me to forgive anyone for even the smallest infractions, about my negativity and pessimism. She wanted to know where my pessimism came from, if it was something my parents or others from my childhood might have instilled or modeled for me to learn. The answer to that is while my parents are likely hugely responsible for my negativity and pessimism, I believe the extent is merely through the self-defense mechanisms I developed in response to their actions. I don't recall my mother or father being pessimistic or optimistic. I remember my mother encouraging us to follow our dreams and telling us we could do whatever it is in life we wanted to try. I remember my father always chasing fantastical dreams of wealth. <br />
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My earliest memories of pessimism are from a volleyball game in the 7th grade. I was not horrifically bad at volleyball, unlike 99% of the other things inflicted on me in school during PE. On this occasion, my team was winning. Every time we made a point or thwarted the other team's attempts to score, all the boys would cheer and trash-talk the opposing team. This infuriated me. I saw no reason to celebrate a game that wasn't over, a game that we could still lose. We shouldn't count our chickens before they had hatched, because it would tempt fate.<br />
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Lessons learned through this memory: I was (irrationally?) superstitious from a young age, I am not or at least was not a <i>complete</i> failure at physical activity, and - drum roll please - school kids may be the root cause of my pessimism. Huh.<br />
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Today, I feel I am a total failure at anything physical, completely lacking any grace or delicacy of movement, a true "bull in a china shop". In the 7th grade playing volleyball, I already believed this. Why? Because of years of heckling from teammates in PE. It wasn't enough to be fat or white or shy or poor or lacking fashion sense - all the sources of school yard taunts. No, my level of unawesomeness carried over into the classroom, where it was a daily ritual for most of the boys and some of the girls to mock and ridicule my physical ineptitude during Physical Education period. Moving around, this was something that didn't change: co-ed PE was brutal for me in both Hawaii and Port Orchard. Thinking back, I should probably have been more thankful for middle-school PE in Port Orchard, where class was not co-ed, and team sports were rarely (if ever) played. There just isn't room for mocking when every last girl in the class is winded and hating the teacher for assigning yet another day of Cross Country running.<br />
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I have always believed I suck at sports. Completely and utterly. A belief in your own worthlessness is pessimism, right? This belief was indeed prompted by actual suckage on my part, but the point was truly hammered home by the voices of cruel little boys who hated losing games by having me on their team.<br />
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So my pessimism isn't from my parents. Who knew? But the bitterness, that is another story. As an adult, I have avoided all things physically demanding and voila, I don't suck all the time! But I seem to be incapable of avoiding childhood memories of the cruelty of my father. So pessimism I can work on. Actually, I personally believe I am a closet optimist, because no matter how bad things get, I always hold on to at least a smidgen of hope. This isn't very healthy either, clinging to the hope of miracles in the face of impending doom/failure.<br />
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I see my pessimism, my negativity, my bitterness, my difficulty giving forgiveness, as one thing. Maybe it's not? Maybe they're just related? But I definitely see my bitterness as caused not only by my past, but my current inability to forgive and/or let go of the past. I don't want to be a pessimist. I don't want to be bitter. I don't want to spend my entire life dwelling on past hurts to the extent of not being able to forgive. But how?<br />
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Actively working on forgiving my mother has been helpful. Time has helped partially heal the scars caused by childhood bullies. But time hasn't helped in the case of my father, and I cannot or will not forgive him. Leaving me to wonder, do I have to forgive my father to let go of my past and finally be happy with my present?<br />
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This is my dilemma, and one I don't really have an answer for. Of course, blurting out this statement only came at the <i>very end</i> of my therapy session. Ha! But she didn't shut down the conversation before telling me that it didn't have to be necessary for me to forgive my father. That there are ways of letting go of the past without forgiveness. Now there is a solution I'd like to pay money for! Unfortunately, if it was something simple, it would have been dished out by now in therapy. Nope, I'm thinking it's going to be rather complicated.<br />
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This hasn't really been much about my father like I expected, so let me steer back in that direction. I am the only person in my family who does not have a relationship with my father. My mother, my sister, my brothers - they all allow him in their lives. Hell, not a single one of my mother's relatives have ever put a foot down and banned him from anything - it's always up to my mother to convince him that everyone would be more comfortable at Thanksgiving dinner if he didn't go with us over to Gramma's house. All of this passive acceptance of him has added more bitterness for me to deal with. Because I don't understand. I don't understand how he can do the things he's done, treat them just the same for years and years, and still be allowed in their lives. I just don't understand it. It's confusing to me. It hurts, actually. It's been more difficult than I feel it should have been to communicate just how serious I am about <i>not</i> being in the same room with him, ever, for any reason.<br />
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My step-grand-father, the most evil person in the world, was never disowned by anyone in his family. Not even by my father, who was an actual victim of physical abuse usually shared for non-family members. Usually. You would think that violence in the home would give weight to accusations by outsiders, but it didn't. You would think that the violence against his stepchildren would give weight to the accusations of his grandchildren, but it didn't. You would think that he would have eventually ended up in prison and then some state graveyard only to be identified by a number, when in fact he lived out his last days happily at home, then was buried right next to my grandmother with a name and honored remarks on his tombstone.<br />
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Have all these people forgiven? Just put it out of their mind? Lied to themselves? Denied and remained unbelieving against all evidence? I don't get it, not in the case of my father or his step-father.<br />
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The same day CNN carried a story about forgiveness and Casey Anthony, I followed a link to <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2011/US/05/27/church.scandal" target="_blank">Why people stick by scandal-plagued pastors</a>. The article touches on money scandals, infidelity, sexual coercion. In all cases, there are people who "jump ship", but there are others who "stand by their man". What. The. Fuck? Apparently, disbelief is a big part of it. Cases where there is just no evidence that could possibly come to light to change the favorable opinion of a few loyal followers. Some people are voyeurs actively interested in watching the scandal fallout first hand. Again, WTF? Some "view themselves as participants in a cosmic struggle." Uh, what now? This has got to be my favorite though:<br />
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<blockquote>None of this appeared to matter to Kirkpatrick. He said Long would have to answer to God, not him.<br />
"I don't think Bishop Long can do anything worse than what Judas did, and God still loved him," Kirkpatrick said.<br />
Kirkpatrick compared pastors to doctors.<br />
"There are people who we trust with our lives every day, like doctors, who do all sorts of things, but we don't question them. This is our spiritual medicine. We come here to get what we need and then we leave."<br />
When asked if there was anything that would cause him to stop attending New Birth, Kirkpatrick lowered his head and paused before he finally said:<br />
"The church would have to close."</blockquote>I thought that the article might shed some light on my family's (un)reaction to the crimes of my father and his step-father. The closest that any of it came was the concept that a parishioner (child) can't leave a paster (parent) to whom they attribute a positive action in their life like help with drug addiction or a failing marriage (or... giving birth???).<br />
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<blockquote>"There is a suspension of common sense, a refusal to put two and two together," Thompson said. "For a lot of people, this is the man who gave them the keys to a whole new way of living. They can't separate the good they received from the man himself, so they feel it would be a betrayal to turn on him now."<br />
When outsiders ratchet up criticism against an embattled pastor, members often go into battle mode, said Thompson, author of "The Prodigal Brother: Making Peace with Your Parents, Your Past, and the Wayward One in Your Family."<br />
"They circle the wagons to protect their guy," Thompson said. "They don't want to see, and they don't want to be made to see what 'the world' sees. They believe the world's view is false, so they form the firewall."</blockquote>In the end, I am no less confused. I'm just more in awe at some people's capacity for stupidity and/or ability to self-delude. Some things are just unknowable, unexplainable, to someone not experiencing it for themselves. Even when we're talking about two people having two completely different reactions to the same event.<br />
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And I'm no closer in my quest to understand and grant forgiveness.<br />
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And dammit if now there has to be a Part 3 in this series.mysiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948616116208687616noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8023691.post-1858894039098773072011-07-18T10:15:00.000-07:002011-08-13T07:16:09.911-07:00Forgiveness, Part 1Forgiveness has been on my mind lately. I think it started when I was inspired by <a href="http://www.mylifelist.org/members/PublicProfile.aspx?PID=7690" target="_blank">My Life List</a> to make a life Goal to "forgive my mother". (It's an interesting concept, a website to declare and track your goals in life, combined with social media if you'd like to get public support in your endeavors.)<br />
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In case you haven't noticed, I'm a very bitter person. I am alternatively snarky or silent on many topics based on the emotional echoes from my past. I've only recently realized the extent that bitterness has infected my life, and it's become important to me to try to reverse. How does one reverse bitterness? Let go of the past, stop living your life there, and keep your past in your past. And forgive. Forgive yourself and others. Unfortunately, forgiveness does not come easily to me.<br />
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But the day after declaring to the world that I intend to forgive my mother, I stumble upon some thought-provoking pieces on CNN. The first was the most relevant, <a href="http://religion.blogs.cnn.com/2011/07/16/my-take-casey-anthony-and-the-challenge-of-forgiveness/" target="_blank">Casey Anthony and the challenge of forgiveness</a>. For those living under a rock, Casey Anthony was found not-guilty of murdering her own daughter last week, after a <i>very</i> public trial, to the outrage of the American public. I personally think that trial-by-media is a horrific form of yellow journalism that is both detrimental to those involved in the case, as well as those who get sucked in by the media coverage - the first group doesn't get a proper trial (and in return receive unwanted attention at the worst possible moments of their lives), and the second group is whipped into a riotous feeding frenzy by news agencies. A "trial of peers" is not a trial by every person who has access to a television, it's by a 12 member jury picked to represent the public at large. There are rules about this sort of thing, and those rules are in place for <i>everyone's</i> sake. It is not healthy to become obsessed with media coverage of anything, especially not a murder trial that has nothing to do with you. But after an acquittal, the resulting public outcry is... ferocious, monstrous, and really fucking scary. An entire nation on the verge of rioting is frightening, but when it's caused by something that has nothing to do with them except to feed an obsession... can I just say, holy shit?<br />
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So Patrick Wanis wrote this piece for CNN about forgiveness, with Casey Anthony as the focus, but only as a greater lesson.<br />
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<blockquote>staying stuck in anger, bitterness, vindictiveness or a desire for revenge does not bring about positive results. As a human behavior expert and therapist, the most common denominator of the pain, mental and emotional affliction that I see people suffer is the lack of forgiveness - the anger and pursuit of revenge against mom, dad, brother, sister, aunt, uncle or self for something that someone did or didn’t do.</blockquote><br />
Without forgiveness, there is only pain, recurring memories that hurt again and again and again. There is a line between seeking justice and revenge, and holding out for revenge just destroys us from the inside out. Wanis gets all spiritual in his article, but even as an atheist I can understand and take to heart the examples in scripture and real life of forgiveness. He talks of Jesus, he talks of a Holocaust survivor, he steers back to Casey Anthony.<br />
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<blockquote>Look in your heart and ask yourself what effect the poison of anger and revenge have on you and your life. We have all wronged and we are all imperfect. Of course, murder is not the same as the wrongs that most of us commit.<br />
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But if Jesus could ask God to forgive the people that were about to murder him and if a Holocaust survivor could forgive the people that poisoned her and tried to exterminate her family, then what holds you and I back from forgiving anyone? The next time you commit a wrongdoing, won’t you be saying “Please forgive me?”</blockquote><br />
This is very powerful stuff. And relevant to my personal struggle with my relationship with my mother. I don't want to talk about what my mother did or didn't do, what was justified or not, whether I'm in the right or not. I love my mother, I know I hold the past against her, and I know that our relationship can't be healthy until I let that go. I have to forgive her.<br />
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But how? How does one forgive? There are obviously varying degrees of slights, and varying degrees of forgiveness we must find within ourselves to move forward. I am cut from the cloth that finds forgiveness of almost any level hard to grant. This is so shameful for me. So often, I know I'm being unreasonable, but I don't know how to stop myself. In the past, I have told people I forgive them without actually meaning it. Or meaning it at the time, only to realize later that I'm still holding bitterness against them. Neither is true forgiveness, neither is healthy for me or the other person.<br />
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Once again, I'm going to blame my crazy brain and its obsessiveness. I can't really speak for other people's brains I guess, but I've been given the impression that it's not normal to be constantly reliving a moment or emotion or event or series of events. I can be distracted - my mind is constantly going and going and going like a hamster on a wheel, and I'm constantly interrupted by all sorts of stray thoughts. But there is always something that my mind is holding on to like some rabid dog, and the only thing that relieves it is when the thought is replaced by a <i>different</i> obsessive thought. I am seriously exhausted just by what's going on in my head all the time, every minute of every hour of every day.<br />
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I'm thinking... Post Traumatic Stress Disorder coupled with Obessive Compulsive Disorder. Somehow, the OCD magnifies the PTSD, so that every negative event gets seared into my brain for reliving in Full Living Color and Smell-o-Vision over and over forever. My memories don't fade. The pain doesn't fade.<br />
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This is not really true, not in the long term. I do eventually "get over" most hurts. Most. Eventually. But the constant marathon reliving of the pain in the short term makes the process so maddening, so hard to live through, so hard to come out on the other side at all. Sometimes, I don't. For the most part, the things I can't forgive <i>ever</i> are from my childhood. My brain may find other distractions over time, other things to worry or obsess about over the years. But the smallest thing can set off a memory and suddenly it's as if it just happened. How does a person defeat that?<br />
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The answer is therapy of course - it has taught me how to actually <i>notice</i> that my mind is stuck in a rut. Noticing helps you actively distract yourself so you can get out. But... unfortunately, that's about it. I notice I'm doing it and I actively try to stop it. This isn't really all that much more pleasant than not noticing. At least there is some relief more often though.<br />
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So, let's see... Bitterness and revenge are bad, forgiveness is good, forgiveness is difficult to achieve, forgiveness of childhood hurts is <i>more</i> than difficult. Guess where my bitterness against my mother stems from? <i>Childhood.</i><br />
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Time is helping. Talking is helping. Life is helping - you hear from other people about their similar experiences, you watch it unfold in movies, you read about it on CNN. It can be chipped away at over time. It just can't be forced.<br />
<br />
There are some things that I'm convinced that I'm never going to forgive. But none of them involve my mother. I love her, I need her in my life again, I have done so much more harm through this bitterness - to her, to my siblings, to myself. Can actively trying to put those memories away actually help? I really, really hope so.mysiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948616116208687616noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8023691.post-24881472584615000052011-07-16T08:45:00.000-07:002011-07-16T08:47:33.472-07:00WHAT DO YOU WANT TO SAY?Aging has been almost constantly on my mind for the past year, and I've been meaning to write about it for just about that long. But there are so many facets to the topic, so many thoughts in my head. Why is it so hard to write them down as they come to me, instead of trying to recapture them days or months later?<br />
<br />
I watched the Uma Thurman movie "Motherhood" on cable the other day. It's about motherhood, yes, but it's also about aging, and facing the life you've created for yourself when you weren't paying attention. Her character was a writer who never published anything other than music reviews, and she tries to blog regularly to compensate. This spoke to me more than anything else in the movie somehow.<br />
<br />
I want to write. <i>I want to <b>write!</b></i> All the time! I want to say every little thing that pops into my head! I want to be heard, I want to be understood, I want to see the page fill up, I want to play with words, I want to fight with my SpellCheck over words I thought I knew how to spell properly, I want to debate how many sentences I can start with "and" before moving on from rebellion to idiocy.<br />
<br />
Realizing there was something you were supposed to do with your life that you never got around to... now that's a kick in the ass. I don't care if I never publish (ok, maybe a little), but I need to write! I need to finish my novel, I need to start the new one, I need to actually write all the short stories in my head. There is no "want", this is all about "need". I need to get these words out of me, on to the page, out into the world.<br />
<br />
Back to the movie, Uma Thurman's character is trying to write a 500 word piece for a chance to win a dream job - blogging for money. She asks her husband to go over it and to "be honest." She flips out when he does just that. He uses the word "banal" for part of it. At the end, he writes in big letters (red ink of course!) "WHAT DO YOU WANT TO SAY?" Later, he tells her he was only trying to get her to stop being ironic and snarky (he says something about how that comes to her as easily as breathing), and to write something real.<br />
<br />
How can dialogue like that not resonate with me? Every time I open my mouth or post to Facebook or manage to blog, I am snarky. I allude to the truth, without quite saying it. I do post and blog reality from time to time. Spill my bloody entrails for the entire world to see type stuff. But I tend to repeat myself: snarky, bitter, snarky, moan, snarky, moan, moan, snarky, bitch, moan, snarky, moan, moan, moan, moan, moan...<br />
<br />
If I wrote regularly, I would have more to say in between bitchfests and pity parties. Duh!mysiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948616116208687616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8023691.post-73668988130300833392011-07-14T23:06:00.000-07:002011-07-14T23:12:24.591-07:00Lyrics by Syd Straw, rip-off by me"CBGB's" by Syd Straw<br />
<br />
<i>Hey remember me, we met ten years ago<br />
at CBGB's, on New Year's Eve<br />
back when you were tending bar<br />
you had a band of your own called The Revlons<br />
and I liked your songs, I don't know how<br />
I must have lost my head an abandonment like that,<br />
was easier then and I don't know why we never met again<br />
but I still think of you sometimes every now and then,<br />
Hey remember when you took me to the movies<br />
to see Soylent Green<br />
I can't believe it was such a long time ago,<br />
So much has happened, I hear you had twins,<br />
Are you doing what you wanna do,<br />
Did you follow your intentions, all the dreams you had,<br />
Has even a single one of them come true?<br />
I ask myself as I'm asking you, hey, I'm just asking<br />
You were the one most likely to succeed without<br />
ever really trying, You had so much to live up to<br />
I was married for awhile, it ended in tragedy,<br />
oh well, enough about me,<br />
Are you doing what you wanted to,<br />
Did you follow those intentions through, and<br />
All the dreams you had, Have any or all of them come true,<br />
If they haven't yet I hope they do</i><br />
<br />
Blatant rip-off by me:<br />
<br />
Hey remember me? We met twenty-four years ago.<br />
We had our first date on New Year's Eve.<br />
You gave me my first kiss, then ran off because your sister was watching from the car.<br />
Three years later and you ran off again,<br />
you made me so happy, I couldn't believe.<br />
I lost my head, your abandonment like that.<br />
But it was easier than admitting the truth, and I forgive, but I don't know why we never met again.<br />
I still think of you sometimes, every now and then.<br />
Hey remember when you asked me to sit on your skateboard<br />
but I was too shy to sit next to you?<br />
I can't believe it was such a long time ago,<br />
So much has happened, I hear you're in Europe and in love.<br />
Did you follow your intentions, all the dreams you had,<br />
has even a single one of them come true?<br />
I ask myself as I'm asking you.<br />
<br />
Hey remember me? We met twenty-two years ago<br />
at a birthday party for the boy who would be my husband.<br />
You had a girlfriend, but still we looked<br />
only to shy away again.<br />
I don't know how we were all so naive.<br />
I lost my mind, the way we hurt each other like that.<br />
Still it got easier, and I don't know why we never met again,<br />
but I still think of you sometimes now and then.<br />
Hey remember when we went to Denny's so I could teach you Magic,<br />
but they stopped us before we got very far?<br />
We should have known it would always be like that.<br />
I can't believe it was such a long time ago,<br />
So much has happened, I hear you're a father, married, and happily too.<br />
Did you follow your intentions, all the dreams you had,<br />
has even a single one of them come true?<br />
I ask myself as I'm asking you.<br />
<br />
Hey remember me? We met 10 years ago<br />
at first online and then that kiss in your bathroom,<br />
back when you were married and unhappy.<br />
You pushed me away, we were both angry and mean.<br />
I don't know what happened, how we let things repeat.<br />
I lost my heart, with your silence like that.<br />
Was it easier? I still don't know why we never met again.<br />
Hey remember when we tried on those cat ears?<br />
It was Halloween time.<br />
I can't believe it was such a long time ago,<br />
So much has happened, I hear you're truly in love.<br />
Did you follow your intentions, all the dreams you had,<br />
has even a single one of them come true?<br />
I ask myself as I'm asking you.<br />
<br />
Hey remember me? We met seven years ago<br />
at the Metro theater, for an animation festival.<br />
You liked my shoes, I liked your skirt,<br />
we cried together later, upstairs in the ladies.<br />
I don't know how I lost my morals like that,<br />
broke everyones hearts, stabbed you in the back.<br />
Still I wonder, why we never met again,<br />
but I still think of you sometimes now and then.<br />
Hey remember when I called home for permission,<br />
and then we giggled and kissed and you smelled like amber?<br />
I can't believe it was such a long time ago,<br />
So much has happened, I hear you're still around, somewhere in the city.<br />
Did you follow your intentions, all the dreams you had,<br />
has even a single one of them come true?<br />
I ask myself as I'm asking you.<br />
<br />
Hey remember me? We met twenty-two years ago,<br />
in the backseat of your mother's car,<br />
you had big blue eyes and bigger gold glasses.<br />
While you planned your party, our feet played under the table,<br />
and then after the cake, there was a little palm tree,<br />
dancing and singing to me.<br />
I did lose my mind, my heart, my morals,<br />
all in less than a week, that's the effect you had.<br />
And then I lost my head, an abandonment like that,<br />
Was it easier? Not until we met again<br />
and fell in love,<br />
so now I think of you always, now, and then.<br />
Hey remember when the raft flipped over<br />
and underneath we shared our first kiss?<br />
Or how about Jamaica or Hawaii or Florence?<br />
Do you remember the beaches, the movies, the drives, the games?<br />
Did we follow our intentions, all the dreams we had?<br />
I know at least a few have come true.<br />
I ask myself as I'm asking you,<br />
so we don't forget anything<br />
when everything is changing.<br />
Babies just take their own time.mysiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948616116208687616noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8023691.post-58956554236193121182011-07-08T08:40:00.000-07:002011-07-08T08:40:25.160-07:00There Is No Happy EndingI was so sure I was pregnant. At my Wellness group, someone asked how I could stand the wait, how could I keep from home testing? I explained that my brain is so untrusting, such a thing would send me to Crazytown - no matter what the test said, I wouldn't believe it until the official blood test, leaving me to suffer through days of worry or false joy. But, I had a plan. I tested myself at home the morning I was scheduled to go in for my blood draw. I guess I really had this urge to pee on a stick...<br />
<br />
It was about 5am, most of the world is still asleep, and I'm watching my pee activate a pregnancy test strip. Not once, but twice - negative both times. I somehow got myself dressed and went out to buy another test - surely my tests had been hanging around too long and had gone bad. I had my hoodie up, sunglasses on, tear streaks on my face, and still the checker cheerfully asked me about my day. I couldn't believe how chatty he was. I couldn't believe he wouldn't shut up and wither and die before my eyes. I still can't believe I didn't reach over and cause him physical harm.<br />
<br />
Home again, and another failed test. I cried and cried and cried and cried. I somehow lived through the hours until it was time to wake up Eric to take me to the "real" test. He did his best to console me and keep hope alive. At the clinic, they kept us in the waiting room for an eternity. Seriously, it was the longest wait we've ever had there, and all we were there for was to give some blood. Did I mention there was another couple waiting, and I was spontaneously breaking into tears every other minute?<br />
<br />
The lab tech did her best to console me. And she seemed genuinely surprised that no one had told me <i>not</i> to self-test because those tests were so unreliable. I kept to myself about the fact that it was 3 tests, and all those commercials they make about how home tests are "just as reliable" as blood tests these days.<br />
<br />
I went home and straight into bed. Eric was the one who took the call. He was miserable coming to tell me, but I already knew. I wasn't pregnant. It didn't take.<br />
<br />
"It didn't take."<br />
<br />
This is the official phrase used by the clinic, my husband, the notifications we emailed.<br />
<br />
It is not the phrase used in my head. If I allow myself to be honest, I had a miscarriage.<br />
<br />
I was pregnant. An egg was fertilized by my husband, the embryo was implanted inside of me. Even if the loss occurred that very day, the fact remains that I had an embryo in my uterus. I had a baby in my womb. But the embryo was gone. The baby was dead.<br />
<br />
The first 48 hours were the worst. I called my mother to ask her to tell me that I was wrong, trying again wouldn't be murder. Because all I could think about was the idea that now I knew my body couldn't support a pregnancy, wouldn't introducing a baby into that body constitute knowingly putting it to harm? Or, in my mind, a death trap. She told me no, that wasn't true. We talked about all the babies still in some lab, waiting to be born. They were already there, waiting for me. I couldn't walk away from them.<br />
<br />
In the end, that was what made my decision. 17 embryos sitting in a frozen vat somewhere, waiting to come to life. I had made the decision to have them created, and it was up to me to do right by them. 17 possible babies.<br />
<br />
The past few months have been unimaginably hard. Not only because of the sadness and loss and grief, or the gravity of the decision on what to do next, or the feeling of limbo as if my life is pointless until the next implantation, but the realization that my definition of life has shifted. This is big. Like realizing I didn't think god really existed big.<br />
<br />
Because I didn't just have a procedure that didn't take. I had a baby in my womb. I had a baby that went away.<br />
<br />
When did this happen? How did this happen? Such an extraordinary change in mindset. I had no idea it was possible, that this was in me waiting to happen. How on earth did I go from the belief that an embryo is just a packet of cells to eliminate when necessary, to the belief that on day one I had a real live baby inside of me?<br />
<br />
There is a certain politician on the presidential campaign trail who is using her story of miscarriage to explain the evils of abortion. I understand her in a way that I couldn't have before. And yet now she and those that share her belief are even more alien to me. Because knowing there is a baby inside you and deciding to have it aborted is officially the hardest decision a woman can make. And yet, these people still think I'm incapable of making that decision on my own.<br />
<br />
I have changed so much, but I am still the same.mysiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10948616116208687616noreply@blogger.com0