In this life, you will encounter people who will suddenly, out of nowhere, become your biggest "fans." They'll tell you how fabulous you are. They'll begin acting like the two of you are "besties." You know, "tight." They will be very thoughtful, or complimentary, or extraordinarily pleasant. They'll have a big old smile just for you. They will make sure whenever you see them, you are seeing them on their very best behavior. They'll do this, right up until the moment they realize that you are not who they want you to be, or that you cannot provide them with what they want, or that you will not or can not, be the stepping stone they wished you to be. When that moment arrives you will, in their eyes, suddenly go from being "the best thing since sliced bread," to being...well, something altogether different, and probably much less "nice."
It doesn't matter who you are, what you do for a living, how much money you make (or don't), what your hobbies and interests are, what church you belong to (or don't), or what neighborhood you live in. At some time, in some setting, some one like this will show up in your life. Depending on your personal circumstances, you might be unfortunate enough to have these someones show up with regular frequency. And when they don't get what they want, they will turn on you faster than you can say "what the hell just happened?"
What it boils down to, I think, is that being able to recognize the difference between flattery (prompted by ulterior motives, whether consciously or subconsciously present) and genuine admiration and respect, can save you a lot of trouble. It's a skill that can keep you from wasting time and emotional energy on fostering meaningless ideas or negative relationships, whether they be personal or professional in nature, and spare you from unjustified feelings of guilt. It's a skill that can protect you from manipulators.
Look, if someone who has previously showered you with compliments, accolades, and niceties- either publicly or privately- suddenly changes their tune after asking for something and not getting it, you might want to ask yourself if there isn't a good sporting chance it was never a genuine relationship/partnership with you they were after in the first place. And if you're feeling badly about saying "no," you might want to ask yourself if you really need to. People pleasing is a hard habit to break, but you can kick it if it happens to be the monkey on your back. Take an objective look at the situation. You might find that you are surprised by what you see through an objective lens. Nobody likes to say "no" or have it said to them, but we all take our turn in each position, and hopefully, most of us act with some integrity and grace when it's our turn.
If you're dealing with one of these someones, try not to let the various, nasty ways they might instinctively try to lash out (guilt trips, assumption statements, confronting statements, he-said-she-said, self pity, third-party authority references, etc.) affect your perception of the situation or yourself, or take up any more of your precious time. It's not about you not being "nice," or not being a decent person worthy of respectful treatment. In fact, it's not about you at all. It's about them. Them, and their inability to accept that their manipulation and flattery didn't get them what they wanted.
Every single one of us on this planet will at one time or another, manipulate people or situations- or try to, anyway. It's the human way. But most of us, I think, grow out of it. We grow up. And when and if we should find ourselves possibly being manipulative, we just f---ing stop it. You can't control another person's intentions or behaviors. Just your own. It is okay to say "no" for any reason, to any one, at any time. You do not have to justify your "no." Act with integrity, and the people who actually respect you and care about maintaining a relationship with you, will not change their tune just because you said "no" to them this time.
Thursday, June 19, 2014
Monday, January 13, 2014
On Loneliness
I read a quote earlier this morning that said, more or less, that loneliness is the result of nobody caring. It really got me thinking about whether or not a person's loneliness can be reduced to such a simplistic idea: I'm lonely because nobody cares. There's something in this statement that smacks of self-pity (I am somewhat of an expert at the whole "I'm pathetic" song and dance, so it really struck a cord), but it only hints at the underlying truth: Sometimes we are lonely because we choose to be lonely.
Sometimes our loneliness is not a condition resulting from nobody caring but instead, by our choice to reject that care because it is not being given by somebody-- a rather specific somebody. I'm not ignorant of the fact that there really are people out there in this world, without a soul to care whether they are warm and dry, whether they live or die. But this...this is not about those people. This is about people like...me. Maybe like you too. People who have some choices when it comes to how lonely we're going to be. Or not be.
We have people that are interested in us, that want to pay attention to us and be paid attention to by us. They want to be a part of our village. They care. But the truth is, we don't care so, none of that really changes anything, and it doesn't ease that longing sense of loneliness, because none of those people who care are the one person or the people that we want to care. Poor, poor us. And I even get the sense that some of us wear the loneliness willingly, maybe even proudly sometimes, maybe like it somehow makes us different or special (look at me! I'm sooooo lonely, lonelier than you even!), when in reality, loneliness is a fashion standard that has been around since the Garden of Eden, since fig leaves. Why do we as human beings, behave this way? Why do we refuse to try on something that will look and feel better on us? Fear? Stubbornness? Habit? Maybe we simply like having something, some struggle, to complain about, and loneliness is as good a struggle as any I suppose. I struggle to understand these ridiculous complexities of the human condition. Sometimes being a person is hard. (Cue violin music.) These thoughts chase circles 'round my little old mind sometimes, and frequently invite insomnia.
So, there we are: alone on the outskirts of the village, ignoring the invitations to the wildebeest roasts, and other such communal events. (Sounds fun, but no thanks. I think tonight I'll just stay home and do a little solitary existential angsting, a little crying into my pillow, and then maybe cap that off with a little solo rain dance.) Or maybe, instead of a village, it's a vast ocean of possibilities, but we lonely, unreachable souls, continue to bob along by ourselves, on a sea full of people who are just waiting to offer life-preservers that may as well be sink-weights. And those people, no matter how wonderful, worthy, attractive, amazing (and more than we deserve really) they are, we just shut them out and shut them off. I can picture them there in my mind, left scratching their heads, a big, useless, round, white floatation device dangling in their collective hand. Humans are the most confusing part of humanity. We should come with a handbook.
Sometimes our loneliness is not a condition resulting from nobody caring but instead, by our choice to reject that care because it is not being given by somebody-- a rather specific somebody. I'm not ignorant of the fact that there really are people out there in this world, without a soul to care whether they are warm and dry, whether they live or die. But this...this is not about those people. This is about people like...me. Maybe like you too. People who have some choices when it comes to how lonely we're going to be. Or not be.
We have people that are interested in us, that want to pay attention to us and be paid attention to by us. They want to be a part of our village. They care. But the truth is, we don't care so, none of that really changes anything, and it doesn't ease that longing sense of loneliness, because none of those people who care are the one person or the people that we want to care. Poor, poor us. And I even get the sense that some of us wear the loneliness willingly, maybe even proudly sometimes, maybe like it somehow makes us different or special (look at me! I'm sooooo lonely, lonelier than you even!), when in reality, loneliness is a fashion standard that has been around since the Garden of Eden, since fig leaves. Why do we as human beings, behave this way? Why do we refuse to try on something that will look and feel better on us? Fear? Stubbornness? Habit? Maybe we simply like having something, some struggle, to complain about, and loneliness is as good a struggle as any I suppose. I struggle to understand these ridiculous complexities of the human condition. Sometimes being a person is hard. (Cue violin music.) These thoughts chase circles 'round my little old mind sometimes, and frequently invite insomnia.
So, there we are: alone on the outskirts of the village, ignoring the invitations to the wildebeest roasts, and other such communal events. (Sounds fun, but no thanks. I think tonight I'll just stay home and do a little solitary existential angsting, a little crying into my pillow, and then maybe cap that off with a little solo rain dance.) Or maybe, instead of a village, it's a vast ocean of possibilities, but we lonely, unreachable souls, continue to bob along by ourselves, on a sea full of people who are just waiting to offer life-preservers that may as well be sink-weights. And those people, no matter how wonderful, worthy, attractive, amazing (and more than we deserve really) they are, we just shut them out and shut them off. I can picture them there in my mind, left scratching their heads, a big, useless, round, white floatation device dangling in their collective hand. Humans are the most confusing part of humanity. We should come with a handbook.
Friday, January 10, 2014
On Marriage Equality
I believe in equality. For all. Not just for those who look, think, and believe like me.
I believe in justice, fairness, and mercy. These are principles I've been taught since childhood and have tried to apply in my own life, albeit not to the degree or measure of accuracy that I would ultimately strive for, but I'll keep working on it.
I believe in the right to worship, or to NOT worship, and that either way, you deserve your right to pursue happiness. I'm still going to believe what I believe either way, right? And so will you. And it need not make us enemies or pit us against each other. I can practice just fine without you practicing along.
I believe in love. The kind we call Charity, which is the pure love of Christ. And I believe in it even on days when I'm not sure that I believe on Christ. I believe in the romantic kind too. The kind that makes you have butterflies in your tummy, and pine for sneaky kisses from that someone special, and makes you miss them terribly when you've been apart too long, and worry about them when they are sick or in need, and cheer them on when they need cheering. I believe everybody should feel that. For real. There is a song that means a lot to me, and it says that "...the perfect way to live life is to love." And I believe that too.
I believe in marriage. Marriage isn't easy. Ask Clint Eastwood, Idina Menzel, Michael Douglas, Demi Moore, Brad Pitt...all heterosexuals who ultimately, ended up in a divorce. Even I have been married and divorced, and because I am white and heterosexual, not a single person stood in my way in any of it. Maybe none of us did a good job, or took it seriously enough, or stayed the course, but nobody told us no. Nobody told Elizabeth Taylor no. Marriage is commitment for better or worse, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer. Because life is rough, ladies and gentleman. It's damned rough. Getting through the trials of life with someone else by your side may not necessarily make it easier, but it can, and it definitely can make it better. Much better. Sometimes your marriage makes it, sometimes it doesn't. And so it goes.
I believe I have no right to tell you that you have get through this life alone, simply because I don't like your choice in life companion. Because it confuses me or I think it's "icky", or even because it goes against what I believe my God wants. My God may not be, after all, your God. So. And if you decide that together, you and your companion want to traverse the bumpy trails of life under the covered wagon of marriage? I believe I have no right to tell you, as an autonomous human being, and an adult with the sentient ability to consider, choose, and consent, how your marriage should look or function, or whether or not you can participate in marriage at all.You should get the same chance to mess it all up or make it work as I have.
I believe family units come in all different configurations, and depending on the ability, effort, and interest of the parental unit or units, can and do result in well-adjusted, healthy, happy adult children. Children can always benefit from stability and nurturing. Having a two-parent, heterosexual nuclear family is not a magic ingredient for child-rearing success, and is not the only pattern for healthy parenting. Go to the experts in family psychology and statistical data, and ask them. They'll tell you. I'm all for there being more stable, loving homes and families available for children.
I believe it is a pointless, and fruitless argument to insist that marriage be treated as a religious right outside of religious organizations, or to use that argument as a basis for continuing to deny equal treatment under the U. S. Constitution. The day the U. S. Government inserted itself into the practice of marriage, by beginning the practice of regulating who could marry whom and issuing marriage licenses, was the day it was too late for that. Marriage is now a civil contract with government oversight and benefits; equal treatment under the law is what is called for. This will not mean that churches and religious institutions cannot continue to approve or deny church-sanctioned marriages within their realm-- that fundamental right will go on under the protection of religious freedom. So please, let's dispense with the continuation of money-sucking and time-wasting state legislation, and get on with the business of having integrity and honor as a people, and doing the right thing.
I believe that my marriage is still sound, and is in no way threatened by anyone else's. 1300+ couples got married here in Utah since December 20th, 2013, and nothing has changed for me or my marriage. The dirty laundry is still piling up, the house payment still got made, and if my husband or I should end up in a situation that requires serious and life-changing decisions to be made on the other's behalf, we can still count on each other being there, without government interference. Nothing different there. The only thing that has changed, if anything at all has, is that we have both had our joy multiplied by seeing our non-heterosexual friends and family finally receiving the same rights that we have taken for granted.
I believe this is a human rights issue. So let's reclaim our humanity. Our humaneness. Ask yourself how devastated you would be if the person you loved more than anything in the world, and with whom you'd built a life (state-sanctioned or not), became gravely ill or even died? Beyond imagining? Maybe you've been there? I don't know. But, think about it. Now, imagine that you had no rights or say in any of it? Seriously. Imagine it. Your person, is gravely ill. You have no say in medical treatment for them. Now, your person didn't make it. Now you're not allowed to make the funeral arrangements--you remember, the ones you know your person wanted because you talked about them on your pillows at night? Nothing. No rights. Not for you. In case you can't imagine such a thing, here are two stories I think may really help you out with that very thing:
Marriage Equality: More than a legal issue
It Could Happen to You
I believe the world is a much better place, when we treat each other with compassion and fairness, and when we try to conquer that which we do not understand, and as a result, also fear, with a true desire to see the other side and to act with integrity and respect. You can use any number of arguments in your attempts to justify robbing others of their civil rights, but it doesn't make it right. What of the arguments against equal rights for non-whites? For women? For those who are the least among us? Not right. They did not make any of it right. Not right. Not. Right. Separate but equal was not right, and can never be. Only equal is right. Only right is right.
I believe in choice, freedom, accountability, and equality under the law, and I will continue to advocate for it.
I believe in justice, fairness, and mercy. These are principles I've been taught since childhood and have tried to apply in my own life, albeit not to the degree or measure of accuracy that I would ultimately strive for, but I'll keep working on it.
I believe in the right to worship, or to NOT worship, and that either way, you deserve your right to pursue happiness. I'm still going to believe what I believe either way, right? And so will you. And it need not make us enemies or pit us against each other. I can practice just fine without you practicing along.
I believe in love. The kind we call Charity, which is the pure love of Christ. And I believe in it even on days when I'm not sure that I believe on Christ. I believe in the romantic kind too. The kind that makes you have butterflies in your tummy, and pine for sneaky kisses from that someone special, and makes you miss them terribly when you've been apart too long, and worry about them when they are sick or in need, and cheer them on when they need cheering. I believe everybody should feel that. For real. There is a song that means a lot to me, and it says that "...the perfect way to live life is to love." And I believe that too.
I believe in marriage. Marriage isn't easy. Ask Clint Eastwood, Idina Menzel, Michael Douglas, Demi Moore, Brad Pitt...all heterosexuals who ultimately, ended up in a divorce. Even I have been married and divorced, and because I am white and heterosexual, not a single person stood in my way in any of it. Maybe none of us did a good job, or took it seriously enough, or stayed the course, but nobody told us no. Nobody told Elizabeth Taylor no. Marriage is commitment for better or worse, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer. Because life is rough, ladies and gentleman. It's damned rough. Getting through the trials of life with someone else by your side may not necessarily make it easier, but it can, and it definitely can make it better. Much better. Sometimes your marriage makes it, sometimes it doesn't. And so it goes.
I believe I have no right to tell you that you have get through this life alone, simply because I don't like your choice in life companion. Because it confuses me or I think it's "icky", or even because it goes against what I believe my God wants. My God may not be, after all, your God. So. And if you decide that together, you and your companion want to traverse the bumpy trails of life under the covered wagon of marriage? I believe I have no right to tell you, as an autonomous human being, and an adult with the sentient ability to consider, choose, and consent, how your marriage should look or function, or whether or not you can participate in marriage at all.You should get the same chance to mess it all up or make it work as I have.
I believe family units come in all different configurations, and depending on the ability, effort, and interest of the parental unit or units, can and do result in well-adjusted, healthy, happy adult children. Children can always benefit from stability and nurturing. Having a two-parent, heterosexual nuclear family is not a magic ingredient for child-rearing success, and is not the only pattern for healthy parenting. Go to the experts in family psychology and statistical data, and ask them. They'll tell you. I'm all for there being more stable, loving homes and families available for children.
I believe it is a pointless, and fruitless argument to insist that marriage be treated as a religious right outside of religious organizations, or to use that argument as a basis for continuing to deny equal treatment under the U. S. Constitution. The day the U. S. Government inserted itself into the practice of marriage, by beginning the practice of regulating who could marry whom and issuing marriage licenses, was the day it was too late for that. Marriage is now a civil contract with government oversight and benefits; equal treatment under the law is what is called for. This will not mean that churches and religious institutions cannot continue to approve or deny church-sanctioned marriages within their realm-- that fundamental right will go on under the protection of religious freedom. So please, let's dispense with the continuation of money-sucking and time-wasting state legislation, and get on with the business of having integrity and honor as a people, and doing the right thing.
I believe that my marriage is still sound, and is in no way threatened by anyone else's. 1300+ couples got married here in Utah since December 20th, 2013, and nothing has changed for me or my marriage. The dirty laundry is still piling up, the house payment still got made, and if my husband or I should end up in a situation that requires serious and life-changing decisions to be made on the other's behalf, we can still count on each other being there, without government interference. Nothing different there. The only thing that has changed, if anything at all has, is that we have both had our joy multiplied by seeing our non-heterosexual friends and family finally receiving the same rights that we have taken for granted.
I believe this is a human rights issue. So let's reclaim our humanity. Our humaneness. Ask yourself how devastated you would be if the person you loved more than anything in the world, and with whom you'd built a life (state-sanctioned or not), became gravely ill or even died? Beyond imagining? Maybe you've been there? I don't know. But, think about it. Now, imagine that you had no rights or say in any of it? Seriously. Imagine it. Your person, is gravely ill. You have no say in medical treatment for them. Now, your person didn't make it. Now you're not allowed to make the funeral arrangements--you remember, the ones you know your person wanted because you talked about them on your pillows at night? Nothing. No rights. Not for you. In case you can't imagine such a thing, here are two stories I think may really help you out with that very thing:
Marriage Equality: More than a legal issue
It Could Happen to You
I believe the world is a much better place, when we treat each other with compassion and fairness, and when we try to conquer that which we do not understand, and as a result, also fear, with a true desire to see the other side and to act with integrity and respect. You can use any number of arguments in your attempts to justify robbing others of their civil rights, but it doesn't make it right. What of the arguments against equal rights for non-whites? For women? For those who are the least among us? Not right. They did not make any of it right. Not right. Not. Right. Separate but equal was not right, and can never be. Only equal is right. Only right is right.
I believe in choice, freedom, accountability, and equality under the law, and I will continue to advocate for it.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Without Milestones or Signposts
Once upon a time, I prayed every day and night. I couldn't fall asleep if I hadn't prayed. It's been a long time now, since I said my last prayer. Years, if you must know. The particulars of why I stopped praying are not terribly complex, and in no way unique. How it happened, was indeed gradual-- if not exactly upon a gentle slope, or soft underfoot, or without sudden turns, milestones or signposts. It's strange, being spiritually bereft, when you have all your days before, known the Spirit intimately. It's stranger still, at least to me, that the times I have felt the most spiritually disconnected and isolated, have been those during which I expected to feel exactly the opposite.
For quite some time, I have been thinking of how to begin again. It feels like it's been too long since the last prayer for me to even try to begin again. It's as if somehow God-Universe-Higher-Self isn't accessible to me. I used to be so spiritually connected to my Father in Heaven, but things happened to change that, and slowly, God and I moved further apart, until there was no gravitational pull left between us at all. At least, none that I could, or can feel. I now reside in a place just between "spiritual wasteland" and "hopeful oasis." And it is there, that I wander back and forth, occasionally crossing one border or another...floating between grief and gratitude.
I feel a bit like the kid who leaves home a little too early, and stays gone way too long; I want to go home, but I don't know how. Because it has been too long, hasn't it? Things have changed and I don't know if the folks would take me back. I'm probably an enormous disappointment. I am still an unruly, handful-- grown-up or not. Who would blame anyone for slamming the door in my face? Or maybe, I never really had a home to leave or come back to in the first place. I don't know. I wish I did.
I need to find a way back to the hopeful oasis. Because I suspect that the oasis is merely the first step in finding my way back to Myself. And I desperately need to get back to Me. But, to get there...maybe prayer could help me find my way back to the oasis again? If I can bring myself to do it. To pray. Somewhere, buried far beneath this pain and grief, it feels like that might be right.
For quite some time, I have been thinking of how to begin again. It feels like it's been too long since the last prayer for me to even try to begin again. It's as if somehow God-Universe-Higher-Self isn't accessible to me. I used to be so spiritually connected to my Father in Heaven, but things happened to change that, and slowly, God and I moved further apart, until there was no gravitational pull left between us at all. At least, none that I could, or can feel. I now reside in a place just between "spiritual wasteland" and "hopeful oasis." And it is there, that I wander back and forth, occasionally crossing one border or another...floating between grief and gratitude.
I feel a bit like the kid who leaves home a little too early, and stays gone way too long; I want to go home, but I don't know how. Because it has been too long, hasn't it? Things have changed and I don't know if the folks would take me back. I'm probably an enormous disappointment. I am still an unruly, handful-- grown-up or not. Who would blame anyone for slamming the door in my face? Or maybe, I never really had a home to leave or come back to in the first place. I don't know. I wish I did.
I need to find a way back to the hopeful oasis. Because I suspect that the oasis is merely the first step in finding my way back to Myself. And I desperately need to get back to Me. But, to get there...maybe prayer could help me find my way back to the oasis again? If I can bring myself to do it. To pray. Somewhere, buried far beneath this pain and grief, it feels like that might be right.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
What Is Truth?
"It is in our nature as human beings, to be somewhat egocentric, and because of this natural inclination, we often make things about us, when in truth, they really have little or nothing to do with us at all. It's so hard to get a broad perspective when the center of our Universe is our own self."
This is something I posted on my Facebook wall the other day after a handful of people inexplicably unfriended me and/or blocked me on the social networking site. The three or four of you reading this are undoubtedly thinking at this point "why do you even care, it's just Facebook?" That's a great question. So let me try to answer as best I can. First, my job requires me to be actively engaged on the internet a lot of the time, and much of that time on Facebook. I think Mark Zuckerberg decided to call it that because he hoped it would be right there in my face, and it is. And sometimes, when it's in my face, my face happens to look like this, which is I suppose, how my face looked when my Social Fixer settings alerted me to the fact I had been-- duhn duhn duhn!-- unfriended by so-and-so. And so-and-so. And so-and-so, too. All are so-and-sos I know in real life: someone I went to high school with; someone I know well through theatre; the person who gave me my first driving lesson at age 14 with Axel F blaring from the car stereo speakers on a cold, Salt Lake City winter's night. So yeah, it bothered me I guess. And it's been happening quite a lot lately. I guess that's bothering me too. I think it's bothering me because I also think I know the reason why it's happening, and I think the reason sucks eggs. Big, stinky, pissed on and buried in the ground for a hundred years, rotten eggs.
When people I hardly know, or don't know at all, seem to have those rotten-egg-sucking reasons for distancing themselves from me on the social network, I more readily adopt the "meh, whatever" attitude and move on. It's when the I know you and you know me people do it that I lose perspective and my very human nature kicks in. The thing is, life has taught me some fundamental lessons, or truths, if you will-- socks will go missing in the dryer, no matter what brilliant scheme you devise for stopping the senseless disappearing act...if you don't like you, nobody else is going to either...pot roast is always better when it's slow cooked in a crock pot...there is a certain age at which you should stop wearing frosty blue eyeshadow-- and if I could just flip that human nature switch to the "off" position, I might be able to benefit from said lessons, quite a great deal more. Thankfully, my human nature seems to have taken a nap and I've been able to back off from the I-am-the-center-of-the-universe perspective for awhile. I realize that even if I am right and what I think is probably the impetus for the rash of unfriendings on Facebook turns out to be true, the choice to unfriend me over it by these people is really not about me at all. It's about them. Completely. And hence, that quote from my wall at the top of this post.
This realization has come in handy quite a lot over the last few days as the unfriendings continue, and also as I do my job on the Facebook pages and groups I admin. One of the groups I admin is called "You know you're from Tooele when..." It's a group I started a year ago as a sort of cathartic exercise. You see, my years in Tooele were not always pleasant or kind, in fact, some of them were nothing short of misery and torment. And yet, there are still some good memories in that little town nestled on the west side of the Oquirrh Mountains, and that's what I was looking for. A collective memory of the good, the bad, and even the ugly. I've gotten that and more. Much, much more. Most of the time, it's the good. Rarely, the bad. And only once or twice, the ugly. A very emotionally charged, and slightly difficult to decipher, message was posted to the wall of the group last night. It was of the ugly variety. After reading and re-reading a few times, I realized that this person was very hurt over a perceived wrong that occurred when some members of the group who were in the same graduating class of Tooele High, met for lunch recently. I also realized that this lunch was occurring while a classmate who planned to attend lay on his death bed. So in addition to the normal emotional baggage carried into these sorts of post high-school social gatherings, there would be an added bag of grief.
The poster felt she overheard something rude being said at the luncheon, and that she perceived the treatment she received from at least one person in attendance, to be cold and unkind. She was angry and hurt by it. She is normally a very positive person and it was obvious she was having a moment. I decided to leave it alone and let the group respond when and if they felt it was appropriate. And respond they did. The posts in the thread make it clear that based solely on individual perceptions, the original poster and those responding attended different luncheons. My intuition tells me that the hurt stems from unresolved conflicts in the past or old hurts from high school that have still not been let go of, even if they do not directly involve those called out in the post. I could be wrong, but that's my sense.
I am quite a bit younger than these folks, they don't know me. But, in thinking about perceptions and communication, and how both of those things significantly impact the world around us, how we view ourselves and others, and what becomes our "truth," I find myself thinking about my own experiences, particularly those in my younger years, as they have inevitably contributed to the adult I have become. I think about my own nature as an imperfect human being, my ego and id the compass and map by which I navigate the world I live in.
Not many people realize that I am hearing impaired. As a young person, I learned to down play this fact, because whenever I would ask someone to speak up or repeat themselves, they would make fun of me. Sometimes they would ask if I was stupid or slow. It was in middle school that I started trying to adapt and stop the teasing. Whether it was consciously decided upon or not, one piece of the adaptation strategy, was to not actively participate in conversations with my peers in group settings. This included classroom conversations. Often I would hang on the periphery of the group to be near my peers, and to sort of feel like a part of the group. But of course, I would not actively engage. This had unintended consequences. Because I was not actively engaged in those conversations, I obviously couldn't hear clearly what was actually being said. This led to my mind filling in the conversational gaps. Often, it filled the gaps in with what sounded an awful lot like gossip and mean comments about me. I became somewhat paranoid and withdrawn. As an adult I realized the sad truth, that much of the garbage I THOUGHT I overheard really was never said. It doesn't change my experience, or my very skewed perception from that time, but it does give me the opportunity to learn from it and to let some of that old hurt go.
Because I am hearing impaired, I often don't realize people are speaking to me and therefore, I might not answer them. This, I have come to learn through re-connecting with old class mates(thank you Facebook), happened quite a lot in high school, apparently. Most people back then never bothered to confront me and ask me why I didn't answer people, they just assumed I was intentionally ignoring them. I was perceived as an offish, stuck up girl who thought she was too good to talk to her classmates and didn't have any problem outright ignoring people. Not a nice picture. This sometimes still happens today, but not often. If you (yes, you) have ever felt intentionally ignored or dismissed by me, please accept my sincere apologies. I hope that any hurt I've caused anyone, whether because of silly misunderstandings or other reasons, can be let go of.
So where I'm going with this is that maybe, probably, what we perceive to be truth, simply isn't. Often what we think we hear, regardless of the soundness of our hearing capabilities or lack thereof, is not what was actually said. People who seem to be trying to hurt us, really aren't. They aren't even thinking about us at all. We aren't even a blip on their emotional or cognitive radars. Their behavior is fueled by their own experience and their current reality. This place is expensive, I hope I have enough money in my checking account to cover my bill...If these people knew how much medication I am on just to be able to function and not fall apart at this thing they wouldn't want to have anything to do with me. God, I hate being like this...I hope my husband found a job today, I can't deal with another collector...I hope we don't lose the house...I'm so worried about my daughter, she's so miserable and depressed. Please God, help her want to keep on fighting, to keep on living. I don't think I could take it if she killed herself. It almost never has anything to do with us and we really are not the center of the Universe. How liberating. Thank [insert deity/higher power of your choice here]!
This is something I posted on my Facebook wall the other day after a handful of people inexplicably unfriended me and/or blocked me on the social networking site. The three or four of you reading this are undoubtedly thinking at this point "why do you even care, it's just Facebook?" That's a great question. So let me try to answer as best I can. First, my job requires me to be actively engaged on the internet a lot of the time, and much of that time on Facebook. I think Mark Zuckerberg decided to call it that because he hoped it would be right there in my face, and it is. And sometimes, when it's in my face, my face happens to look like this, which is I suppose, how my face looked when my Social Fixer settings alerted me to the fact I had been-- duhn duhn duhn!-- unfriended by so-and-so. And so-and-so. And so-and-so, too. All are so-and-sos I know in real life: someone I went to high school with; someone I know well through theatre; the person who gave me my first driving lesson at age 14 with Axel F blaring from the car stereo speakers on a cold, Salt Lake City winter's night. So yeah, it bothered me I guess. And it's been happening quite a lot lately. I guess that's bothering me too. I think it's bothering me because I also think I know the reason why it's happening, and I think the reason sucks eggs. Big, stinky, pissed on and buried in the ground for a hundred years, rotten eggs.
When people I hardly know, or don't know at all, seem to have those rotten-egg-sucking reasons for distancing themselves from me on the social network, I more readily adopt the "meh, whatever" attitude and move on. It's when the I know you and you know me people do it that I lose perspective and my very human nature kicks in. The thing is, life has taught me some fundamental lessons, or truths, if you will-- socks will go missing in the dryer, no matter what brilliant scheme you devise for stopping the senseless disappearing act...if you don't like you, nobody else is going to either...pot roast is always better when it's slow cooked in a crock pot...there is a certain age at which you should stop wearing frosty blue eyeshadow-- and if I could just flip that human nature switch to the "off" position, I might be able to benefit from said lessons, quite a great deal more. Thankfully, my human nature seems to have taken a nap and I've been able to back off from the I-am-the-center-of-the-universe perspective for awhile. I realize that even if I am right and what I think is probably the impetus for the rash of unfriendings on Facebook turns out to be true, the choice to unfriend me over it by these people is really not about me at all. It's about them. Completely. And hence, that quote from my wall at the top of this post.
This realization has come in handy quite a lot over the last few days as the unfriendings continue, and also as I do my job on the Facebook pages and groups I admin. One of the groups I admin is called "You know you're from Tooele when..." It's a group I started a year ago as a sort of cathartic exercise. You see, my years in Tooele were not always pleasant or kind, in fact, some of them were nothing short of misery and torment. And yet, there are still some good memories in that little town nestled on the west side of the Oquirrh Mountains, and that's what I was looking for. A collective memory of the good, the bad, and even the ugly. I've gotten that and more. Much, much more. Most of the time, it's the good. Rarely, the bad. And only once or twice, the ugly. A very emotionally charged, and slightly difficult to decipher, message was posted to the wall of the group last night. It was of the ugly variety. After reading and re-reading a few times, I realized that this person was very hurt over a perceived wrong that occurred when some members of the group who were in the same graduating class of Tooele High, met for lunch recently. I also realized that this lunch was occurring while a classmate who planned to attend lay on his death bed. So in addition to the normal emotional baggage carried into these sorts of post high-school social gatherings, there would be an added bag of grief.
The poster felt she overheard something rude being said at the luncheon, and that she perceived the treatment she received from at least one person in attendance, to be cold and unkind. She was angry and hurt by it. She is normally a very positive person and it was obvious she was having a moment. I decided to leave it alone and let the group respond when and if they felt it was appropriate. And respond they did. The posts in the thread make it clear that based solely on individual perceptions, the original poster and those responding attended different luncheons. My intuition tells me that the hurt stems from unresolved conflicts in the past or old hurts from high school that have still not been let go of, even if they do not directly involve those called out in the post. I could be wrong, but that's my sense.
I am quite a bit younger than these folks, they don't know me. But, in thinking about perceptions and communication, and how both of those things significantly impact the world around us, how we view ourselves and others, and what becomes our "truth," I find myself thinking about my own experiences, particularly those in my younger years, as they have inevitably contributed to the adult I have become. I think about my own nature as an imperfect human being, my ego and id the compass and map by which I navigate the world I live in.
Not many people realize that I am hearing impaired. As a young person, I learned to down play this fact, because whenever I would ask someone to speak up or repeat themselves, they would make fun of me. Sometimes they would ask if I was stupid or slow. It was in middle school that I started trying to adapt and stop the teasing. Whether it was consciously decided upon or not, one piece of the adaptation strategy, was to not actively participate in conversations with my peers in group settings. This included classroom conversations. Often I would hang on the periphery of the group to be near my peers, and to sort of feel like a part of the group. But of course, I would not actively engage. This had unintended consequences. Because I was not actively engaged in those conversations, I obviously couldn't hear clearly what was actually being said. This led to my mind filling in the conversational gaps. Often, it filled the gaps in with what sounded an awful lot like gossip and mean comments about me. I became somewhat paranoid and withdrawn. As an adult I realized the sad truth, that much of the garbage I THOUGHT I overheard really was never said. It doesn't change my experience, or my very skewed perception from that time, but it does give me the opportunity to learn from it and to let some of that old hurt go.
Because I am hearing impaired, I often don't realize people are speaking to me and therefore, I might not answer them. This, I have come to learn through re-connecting with old class mates(thank you Facebook), happened quite a lot in high school, apparently. Most people back then never bothered to confront me and ask me why I didn't answer people, they just assumed I was intentionally ignoring them. I was perceived as an offish, stuck up girl who thought she was too good to talk to her classmates and didn't have any problem outright ignoring people. Not a nice picture. This sometimes still happens today, but not often. If you (yes, you) have ever felt intentionally ignored or dismissed by me, please accept my sincere apologies. I hope that any hurt I've caused anyone, whether because of silly misunderstandings or other reasons, can be let go of.
So where I'm going with this is that maybe, probably, what we perceive to be truth, simply isn't. Often what we think we hear, regardless of the soundness of our hearing capabilities or lack thereof, is not what was actually said. People who seem to be trying to hurt us, really aren't. They aren't even thinking about us at all. We aren't even a blip on their emotional or cognitive radars. Their behavior is fueled by their own experience and their current reality. This place is expensive, I hope I have enough money in my checking account to cover my bill...If these people knew how much medication I am on just to be able to function and not fall apart at this thing they wouldn't want to have anything to do with me. God, I hate being like this...I hope my husband found a job today, I can't deal with another collector...I hope we don't lose the house...I'm so worried about my daughter, she's so miserable and depressed. Please God, help her want to keep on fighting, to keep on living. I don't think I could take it if she killed herself. It almost never has anything to do with us and we really are not the center of the Universe. How liberating. Thank [insert deity/higher power of your choice here]!
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
The Future Comes One Day At A Time
I promised myself that when the new year started, I would stop making excuses. Excuses for why I had still not yet started writing and just bloody do it already. I've been thinking about why it's taken me so long to follow through on this. I write all the time. What's been the big hold up? I've come to the conclusion that I am not only a procrastinator of the highest order in dealing with certain aspects of my life, but I also have a fear of commitment, well sort of. At least, when it comes to this. Let me explain.
I had planned to start blogging in January of 2011. My blog was supposed to be a place for me to write the things I wanted to write, and only when I wanted to write them. It was supposed to be cathartic. Mostly, I was just trying to stop being one of those obnoxious assholes that treats their Facebook account like a blog. That's it. So I asked my friend, Darwin (not his real name, but you know, whatever), to help me get a domain set up, pick a theme, figure out hosting, etc. etc., all of which he did and I was grateful. And I thought I was ready, because it was no big deal. Just a relocation of my musings from one less appropriate repository, to a more suitable one. But then, Darwin started talking about setting a regular schedule for my posts, no less than twice a week would do, but hey- daily would be even better! At this point, I was still merely whelmed, but I could feel whelmed would soon pique to more than whelmed. Sure enough, I was right. He said I needed to be consistent and dependable, and I needed to choose a blogging brand and genre (humor, mommy blogger- OMG I laugh in your general direction, Darwin- religion, philosophy- I have to choose just one?) because my readers would not be happy if I didn't post regularly and with the same "voice."
If I'm going to be honest, then I have to admit that I can barely keep the few dozen people in my life moderately happy, if even that, and now I was supposed to a) meet yet another schedule and more deadlines, b) speak with only one voice/perspective/position, which is nearly impossible for a Gemini to do (really, I change my mind more often than Lady Gaga changes her hair) and, c) I would have the weight of an entire readership's satisfaction on my shoulders. Definitely feeling beyond whelmed now. Darwin had further explained that the whole point of blogging is to drive traffic to your blog so you can monetize your words and for that to work I would need to do not only a, b and c, but d, e, and f as well...that just wasn't the point in blogging for me. All I wanted to do was write.
I guess I started freaking out just a teensy, tiny bit. And then my imagination showed up to the party. I saw in my mind's eye myself upon a white sandy beach at sunset, dressed in white linen, holding the hand of my blog as it slipped a ring upon my finger and Tattoo from Fantasy Island pronounced us blog and wife. No. Really, I did. Then, I saw the pages of a calendar being ripped off one by one by an unseen hand, as day after day, week after week, month after month flew off into space. I saw the hands of a clock winding around and around it's face, never slowing, never stopping until finally and spectacularly, time sped so far ahead that the clock blew up. Oh my god. Oh my god. That clock just blew up in my head! The writing was on the wall, the clock's enthusiasm-killing guts were all over my Amygdala and Hypothalamus, and my resolve to blog crumbled and skittered away with the wind like so much dust. I guess there are some drawbacks to having a highly developed imagination, for instance letting myself give up due to fear and therefore living in a sort of self-imposed blogging exile.
But, I realized yesterday (as I was toying with the idea of actually making a list of resolutions for the new year ahead) that the future comes just one day at a time. And I thought, "Bloody hell, I can do one day at a time! I do one day at a time all the time. Every bloody day, in fact." So I sat down and told myself, "Self, I can write what I want, when I want, how I want and that's all the commitment I need to make." And that's exactly what I'm going to do. Because that, People of the Internet, is the point of blogging for me.
And you should know that I know that it's not Darwin's fault, or even Tattoo from Fantasy Island's fault, that I didn't start until today. It's mine. 2013 for me is going to be a year about change, personal growth, and letting go of things that don't make me happier or better. Like fear, resentment, and regret. Or burning hot coals (those little bastards really hurt my delicate girly hands). I might even get to making that list, and who knows what I might get checked off in the year to come...if I can just resolve to start.
I had planned to start blogging in January of 2011. My blog was supposed to be a place for me to write the things I wanted to write, and only when I wanted to write them. It was supposed to be cathartic. Mostly, I was just trying to stop being one of those obnoxious assholes that treats their Facebook account like a blog. That's it. So I asked my friend, Darwin (not his real name, but you know, whatever), to help me get a domain set up, pick a theme, figure out hosting, etc. etc., all of which he did and I was grateful. And I thought I was ready, because it was no big deal. Just a relocation of my musings from one less appropriate repository, to a more suitable one. But then, Darwin started talking about setting a regular schedule for my posts, no less than twice a week would do, but hey- daily would be even better! At this point, I was still merely whelmed, but I could feel whelmed would soon pique to more than whelmed. Sure enough, I was right. He said I needed to be consistent and dependable, and I needed to choose a blogging brand and genre (humor, mommy blogger- OMG I laugh in your general direction, Darwin- religion, philosophy- I have to choose just one?) because my readers would not be happy if I didn't post regularly and with the same "voice."
If I'm going to be honest, then I have to admit that I can barely keep the few dozen people in my life moderately happy, if even that, and now I was supposed to a) meet yet another schedule and more deadlines, b) speak with only one voice/perspective/position, which is nearly impossible for a Gemini to do (really, I change my mind more often than Lady Gaga changes her hair) and, c) I would have the weight of an entire readership's satisfaction on my shoulders. Definitely feeling beyond whelmed now. Darwin had further explained that the whole point of blogging is to drive traffic to your blog so you can monetize your words and for that to work I would need to do not only a, b and c, but d, e, and f as well...that just wasn't the point in blogging for me. All I wanted to do was write.
I guess I started freaking out just a teensy, tiny bit. And then my imagination showed up to the party. I saw in my mind's eye myself upon a white sandy beach at sunset, dressed in white linen, holding the hand of my blog as it slipped a ring upon my finger and Tattoo from Fantasy Island pronounced us blog and wife. No. Really, I did. Then, I saw the pages of a calendar being ripped off one by one by an unseen hand, as day after day, week after week, month after month flew off into space. I saw the hands of a clock winding around and around it's face, never slowing, never stopping until finally and spectacularly, time sped so far ahead that the clock blew up. Oh my god. Oh my god. That clock just blew up in my head! The writing was on the wall, the clock's enthusiasm-killing guts were all over my Amygdala and Hypothalamus, and my resolve to blog crumbled and skittered away with the wind like so much dust. I guess there are some drawbacks to having a highly developed imagination, for instance letting myself give up due to fear and therefore living in a sort of self-imposed blogging exile.
But, I realized yesterday (as I was toying with the idea of actually making a list of resolutions for the new year ahead) that the future comes just one day at a time. And I thought, "Bloody hell, I can do one day at a time! I do one day at a time all the time. Every bloody day, in fact." So I sat down and told myself, "Self, I can write what I want, when I want, how I want and that's all the commitment I need to make." And that's exactly what I'm going to do. Because that, People of the Internet, is the point of blogging for me.
And you should know that I know that it's not Darwin's fault, or even Tattoo from Fantasy Island's fault, that I didn't start until today. It's mine. 2013 for me is going to be a year about change, personal growth, and letting go of things that don't make me happier or better. Like fear, resentment, and regret. Or burning hot coals (those little bastards really hurt my delicate girly hands). I might even get to making that list, and who knows what I might get checked off in the year to come...if I can just resolve to start.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)