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.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
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.
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