So there I was...: Dec 24th- What I have learned in 2016

So there I was...: Dec 24th- What I have learned in 2016: If I had to summarize 2016 in one word- it would be 'heartbreaking', the entire spectrum of the word. Civilized Americans went on ...

Dec 24th- What I have learned in 2016

If I had to summarize 2016 in one word- it would be 'heartbreaking', the entire spectrum of the word.
Civilized Americans went on hateful rants everyday. Spewing judgment and intolerance onto anyone with a different view. What I feel should have happened this election year, is that those running for the POTUS should be vetted like the immigrants coming into this country. I'm sure that both Clinton and Trump would be labeled terrorists and not allowed  entry into the United States. I think a better show of "united" states might have been a population that refuses to be bullied and bought by fake news, propaganda, and the media bias. How can we as a nation of civilized people, be unable to refuse the choices being presented to us for the leader of our country? Why and how, did our Presidential ballot have two "evils".  It is truly disheartening.

I guess I have the answer to that, also due to my experiences this year.
The American people are lied to. Everyday. Lied to by news outlets reporting from all over the world. In fact, I've found that the truth of things reported is about 165 degrees in the opposite direction- or the information has no basis in reality whatsoever. We are merely puppets. Even thinking, investigating and coming to the conclusion that we are steered by the power elite of the world somehow still makes us pawns in a game we never wanted to play in the first place. Edward Snowden blew the whistle on the surveillance, worldwide, of unsuspecting people. The NSA and the governments of many countries around the world agreed to collect meta-data at a rate of 1 billion/per second, to store in case they might need it someday. I'm admitting right now that I have been the one to say- who cares- I haven't got anything to hide. I don't. But that no longer seems like a legitimate answer. The investigation into the NSA found testimony blatantly denying that it was happening and we're supposed to believe that they just stopped because new laws were passed?
Does anyone else think, as I do, that the corruption in our politics- home and abroad- is ...heartbreaking? I have lost any notion that the government of the United States is "for the people".

2016 has taught me that we are all terrorists. The bad guys who think they are good guys get to call the good guys terrorists. And terrorists get to call governmental authorities terrorists. And the American population gets to condemn anyone from the Middle East as a terrorist, for reasons I still can't understand. When Syrian citizens began to rebel against their government, President Bashir Assad, because of the corruption and distrust of their government (because of the killing of its civilians), guess what they were called? Terrorists. When the real terrorist was their president. Ironically, the "war on terror" made the United States terrorists in the Middle East and yet again the cycle of bloodshed continues.
As a side note- If a country is in the midst of a civil war and the US needs to pick a side- how do you think we would go about picking that side? It will be picked by deciding which side has more to offer us. Whether by trade, military advantages, or other capitalist objectives- I'm sure there are lots of noble things our country does around the world, I'm not saying that we are just a bullying, money and power hungry democracy. I'm saying that rose colored glasses shouldn't be the main pair you wear when reading or watching the news and it's coverage of our involvement in foreign affairs.

I also found a young Muslim man to be more filled with the light of God, then the people who have condemned him because of his ethnic and religious background, some of those people being in my own family. Which leads me to another lesson I learned in 2016- it is easier for people to hate and fear than to listen to logic and reason. The young muslim man has become like a brother to me. But I find it heartbreaking that it seems I have lost one to gain one.

After working in the ICU setting for the majority of my career, I have discovered that stepping away from the bedside of critical care has not released the burden of stress I feel during non-critical nursing care. I am sure that this could be classified as post-traumatic behavior, the compulsion to wait for something terrible to the patient right in front of me. To prepare my work area for worst-case scenarios and being highly sensitive to others who don't see the thousands of potential things that could go wrong (maybe because they've never worked critical care). And jumping into another nurse's care of a patient when I was certainly not invited to do so and it certainly wasn't a life or death situation, is apparently considered unhelpful and bossy. The residual of years working in a very fast paced, high stress department has made me a not so favorite nurse to work with and this year, I've been humbled.

2016 has taught me that last conversations can be haunting, first impressions can be completely wrong, and that the dog nose prints left on the back windows of my car can be more important than a huge jar of her ashes. Even if it has been a year and half since I lost her.

2016 has also taught me that God answers my prayers, that making time to walk through the bible and getting to understand His message for me is more important than exercise in treating my depression, and that gratitude to God for the miracle of my life is cause enough to spend the rest of it showing others the love and grace He has shown me. I have learned that when in doubt, kneel.

December 3, 2016

I recently spent a weekend in New York City with 3 women that I have known for ages and who I admire and respect. A girls weekend for birthday celebrations, for the chance to escape from the everyday, and for the experience of adding to our collective histories. Two of them were sisters that I went to high school with and the other I met 15 years ago in Orlando. A sacred sister from the get go. One of the biggest changes, besides the obvious effect of the years that have passed, was the well known use of Uber. Forget catching a cab, log in and load your destination, and within minutes, some stranger, driving a Camry (they all seemed to drive Camrys) will get you to your destination. The problem with this is that the likelihood of your driver not being able to maneuver around Manhattan in any way besides the little red line on their cell-phone or iPad, are high. You end up being the schmucks in the middle of the intersection for 10 minutes, just because some map app decided that this particular one way street was better than the one previous. Then to arrive at our destination only to realize we could've walked the 3 1/2 blocks in less time than it took to get through the intersection of death. 

Our dinner conversations were the second thing that had definitely changed. No laughter over Sex and the City episodes, or tales of long work outs that didn't seem to be giving the buns of steel they promised, or the topic that naturally followed of get skinny quick diets that some celebrity waif was selling in a 30 minute infomercial. The conversations ranged from the epic election that was only a few days away (the general consensus being that our government and the elected officials are more crooked than a game of Twister) to the various different growing pains we individually had struggled through in our recent years; depression, anxiety, divorce, job burnout, family strife, vulnerability, and the growing suspicion that embracing singleness for the blessings it offers was, in fact, the one shift in consciousness that made the milestones of life (or lack thereof) less rigid and overbearing. And those were just mine. 

We also talked about children, life without them, futures that could involve them, and the state of childhood today. I recounted my flight into Newark. Sitting next to a woman who had moved to Lexington, from Manhattan, only a year ago. Our conversation was rich with honesty and one truth bomb (for her) she laid on me was that children are over-rated. She talked so lovingly about her two children and her partner, a man also from Manhattan (A side conversation was had about what to call someone you're in a relationship with when you're over the age of 40. Boyfriend being too juvenile, partner leaving the impression of a homosexual relationship, and mate sounding like an Australian drinking buddy). So she and her "man-friend," we jokingly called him, had opted to have children together without the marriage. She offered up explanations regarding her view of having had children. The fact that they are all consuming was a big one. Their basic needs up to and including loving them and feeling no other such emotion is astronomically complex in the emotional realm of life. Neglecting self and partner, for the treasures of your life, takes a portion of your psyche and fills it with guilt and shame for having thoughts that no one dares speak of for fear of being ostracized, or sent to an AA meeting. I applauded her for her honesty and ability to let it speak for itself. 

There is more to this than just selfish reasons, in fact none of the reasons really sounded selfish to me. It's not about being unable to make lunch dates with the ladies, or traveling to exotic, lush resorts. It's about having your mind hijacked by fear, worry, stress, self-loathing, bitterness, anger, impatience, and unconditional love. Parenting is all consuming and it's in a world that demands more and more of one's attention, not as a parent, but as a citizen of this planet. 

I know mothers who would not change their choice of having children for anything. That being a Mom has been their dream since they were children. It gives them meaning and ultimate happiness. They are women with gracious and generous souls. 

I'm just going to say the majority of us in NYC were not in that category.

The world hasn't decided what to make of us. It's funny, thinking about being old without children to take care of me or grandchildren to spoil, used to leave me feeling uneasy. I have only just realized that I might not be in the minority in the future and I imagine my future being very much closer to the Golden Girls, then some grayish-green colored nursing home of loneliness.

No longer crazy old cat ladies or spinsters. I do think all of us have a maternal instinct, of various strengths of course, we are the singles that can mother, or father, the world. 

A Metallica song comes to mind- "Wherever we may roam"- indeed, we'll be watching for the opportunities to pass on our values and wisdom. To be a blessing to any child at any time. 

Ahh. Life is splendid. 

Of course, some things never change. There was laughter, drinks, tears, and photo ops. There was a lost clutch, that had been in my Momma Sophia purse, that had apparently been replaced with an open bottle of Stella Artois. For sure, shenanigans are always called for.

 

So there I was...: Land of the free, home of the dead

So there I was...: Land of the free, home of the dead: I’m not sure what I want to write about but I know that my entire being is in a state of overflowing thoughts and concerns. I looked at a ...

Land of the free, home of the dead

I’m not sure what I want to write about but I know that my entire being is in a state of overflowing thoughts and concerns. I looked at a neighborhood here in Lexington that is on the Reservoir. Even considering buying a townhome to call mine permanently. There is something so off putting about the idea of permanence these days. The country that I have grown up in, that has given me freedoms that millions of people can only imagine and enough of everything- food, water, clothing, TV networks and blockbuster movies. A country that in its short life span has risen to the status of world Super Power.

But does being a Super Power mean that those powers are used for good? For me, history class taught me that our military skills helped saved millions of people in World War 2. I didn’t learn much about Vietnam, or Desert Storm for that matter. The bulk of history I’ve learned after high school has come from TV. A very biased and censored information source.

Does the winning team admit to cheating? Do the good guys ever do the deeds of the bad guys? Do human beings naturally feel compelled to admit when they are wrong? Are we so gullible as to believe that our status as the USA in this world is one of a humble, do-gooder that goes out to seek and serve justice in areas where no qualified judge and jury exists? Are we brain washed throughout our primary education to believe that we are the best country in the world and taught only the evidence that supports that instead of the reality that exists?

And yet we condemn every country in the world that does the same thing. People say Muslims are brain washing their children to hate America and to champion their own country and beliefs. Why do Muslims teach their children these beliefs? Is it justification of the oppression that gets dispersed throughout their countries? Do the governments of Muslim nations weave dark, evil stories of the ‘West’ in order to rally support for defending their nations and engaging in wars that only suit their interests?

Does the average US citizen realize the view outside, looking in to this country is not pretty? The horror of children killed in accidental shootings because of the negligence of their parents? The laughable waste of resources in our very own country full of hungry, even homeless men, women and children. The excesses that we can’t live without and the hours of vacation we will never take because our material lives matter more than any other part of our lives. A country with no moral priority and little encouragement that anyone, anywhere is going to stand up and demand that as a citizen of this great country we should at the minimum hold some inalienable truths to be MORE than self-evident. That we the people should give a good God damn whether or not we are living the values and the beliefs of a good and honorable nation. As the rest of the world looks at the race for the most powerful position in the world, two people brought up and put on pedestals; as the best that we have to offer to be the beacon of beliefs for all that we stand for and hope for, for our country. The world is left dumbstruck as to what has happened to allow such a mockery and reality TV show cringe worthy excuse for a Presidential election. Where is dignity? Where is diplomacy and concern for the citizens of this country? Where is the simple element of proper manners and class, honor and respect for this position of power? It simply has been beaten out of priority.

We live in a country that has 6 story high billboards of women in underwear but doesn’t want to be so put out as to see a woman breast feeding in public. We watch shows of death and violence, sex and power and allow this filth in our homes where children are being raised to be upstanding citizens.  Only to scratch our heads when teenagers shoot up schools. The uneducated arrogance that gets to root for their race over all others, and has the audacity to actually believe, through and through, that because there is a difference that must mean one has to be better than the other. The mean spirited rivalries in sports. Teaching our children that loyalty is better than grace.

Looking through the eagle eye view at the country we live in, the world sees injustice, inequality, corruption, oppression, addiction and citizens who aren’t even batting an eye at it. The world looks into this Christian nation and laughs at what a mockery we are next to people who live good, humble and noble lives without a single belief in a higher being. The Christian Nation who has done so much less for their own, then what non-Christian nations have done for others. Walking out of million dollar churches, many parishioners drive past the slums, the ghettos, and the homeless. Making sure their car door is locked. Those who live with more than just thoughts of themselves; those who are kind, caring and not afraid to help others. This is what we should be standing for. Those who don’t act on the basis of some ulterior motive. Children, at a young age when they have not yet been initiated into the American mindset, are like this. People who have a passion for something, anything and putting it to good use, this is what we need more of in our neighborhoods, communities and towns.

People like my mother, who opened an entire recycling center in the late 90’s when only a few dumpsters would have done the job.

People like the teenagers that formed a cheering section for the juvenile detention center basketball team, because no one was there to cheer them on when local high school teams came to play them.

People like the numerous young entrepreneurs under the age of 12 that have seen a need in their schools for children who didn’t have lunch money or went hungry over the weekend. Children taking action to do for others because there was no reason not to.

Imagine your city, your street if you knew more people on a personal level. Celebrating life’s great events. Like my sister Carrie who put together a party at the local park, paying for the band and bringing people together for the experience of community. If community meant more than the fancy name of some subdivision in some cookie cutter suburb that can be found in every state of this country, then imagine who we might have running for President instead.

There is a great war going on, although here in the US we are lead to believe that we are sending our military troops in to do the right thing, the best thing for the citizens of war torn countries. That the leaders of our country are fighting the good fight. Countries being terrorized by the very rebels we armed when we needed them. The US has currently built up military fronts on the western border of Russia, with more troops than what was at the height of the cold war. The US has stock piled more and more nuclear weapons than any other time in the history as a country. The US Military has trained with Australia ways to block China from getting through to the Middle East for reasons we are not quite privy to. We killed millions in Iraq, Yemen, Libya, Somalia, Saudi Arabia, Syria and who knows where else over the last 10-15 years, but most of us don’t know anything about that. Most don’t know that we’ve sold weapons to rebels, countries and military groups that are engaged in genocide, war crimes and worse. A lot of Americans can’t understand why so many foreign countries look down on us in disdain. We the people are the bullies of the world. We have our freedoms and insist that everyone else have our same governmental ideology. No one else in this world has the right to be anything but like the American way. A homogenous world of American democracy looks a lot like a dictatorship. Comply or die.

We have been living in beautiful ignorance for far too long. My mind churns out ideas for change. My heart hopes for de-escalation of the war stances that the US and Russia have taken. I think of my niece and nephew, playing in my parent’s pool. Swimming and laughing because they don’t have a care in the world. Going to sleep in beds that are in houses on quiet streets. And just as I get to that sweet image, I have flashes of Trey covered in the dust of a bombed out city. Running over rubble, with thundering sounds of bombs and guns. How can I protect him? How can we protect our children, our families from the inescapable judgment the world wishes to unleash on us, for the doings of our government leaders. The nations’ citizens will be judged for the crimes of their leaders.

This terrifies me, for our leaders have a long, bloody atrocious list of crimes.

May peace find you and may you share it with the people you meet.  

So there I was...: I found the broken pieces of my heart on the top o...

So there I was...: I found the broken pieces of my heart on the top o...: So there I was- sitting with three amazing women that I had gone to Bali with last year. It was as if we were still in that beautiful villa...

I found the broken pieces of my heart on the top of Big Bear

So there I was- sitting with three amazing women that I had gone to Bali with last year. It was as if we were still in that beautiful villa, cocooned in our vulnerable but safe haven in Kuta.  A place that felt like the safe shelter of the covers that you hid under with your brother or sister when your parents were fighting. It's interesting that at the top of some random mountain (Big Bear, CA) the 3 of us could just start where we left off. It seemed as if I had just seen these sisters last week. As I had looked forward to this trip in August, even though I found out it ruined my 40th birthday surprise party, I felt so blessed to have worked through so many things with them in the past and would now enjoy the hysteria of our combined personalities. We were all pretty damn funny and entertaining! I'm not sure if it was my slight panic (is panic ever slight? ok.. not panic- maybe fear) of heights riding up the ski lift, or the altitude of 7400 ft- but for some reason our lunch at the top of the world unraveled me completely. Trust me when I tell you that I didn't see that coming.
Having lunch over the excitement of getting out of a stressful, life sucking job, celebrating the journey of starting a Master's program, even tiptoeing through the giddy anxiety producing new relationship and all of the hurdles these events required jumping, there was confidence in the path ahead - the 4 of us had all seen transformation after Bali. None of those 3 scenarios were me of course. No- from left field came, from a glued together, broken space, a barrage of pain. I believe I even said in stunned awareness, Holy Shit. As in Holy Shit, I need some serious therapy.
If you've read either of my blogs, the other being thriveingratitude.blogspot.com, I talked last fall about vulnerability. I had met a man that I saw wonderful things in and I hopped onto a ledge based on mutual verbalized thoughts and said that we should be exclusive. He said no. It was a crash landing that I NEVER want to experience again. Ever. On the top of our small space in California that afternoon- besides reliving that rejection, reliving, the now conscious understanding that my request for exclusivity was in fact a ploy to minimize my vulnerability, I allowed another devastating blow to escape my subconscious. Wait, make that plural- blows.
We all have events in our lives that help set the timeline of our lifespan- besides birth and death that is. Reaching puberty, first kisses, losing our virginity, graduation, marriages, children, divorces, deaths of relatives, maybe even our own health scares. We all go through these things for the most part. Some more, some less, but I am certain that we have all been scarred in some way shape or form. It makes an even playing field.
No.
No on so many levels, no. This idea of a "playing field"- some universal space that we are all destined to go through the same struggles of life, as if it is some 'rite of passage'. NO. (Sorry Mom- ya may wanna skip a few lines, I mean- paragraphs). My field has it's own land mines, and I would never minimize your land mines to make us even. Our fields are not equal. The pain each and every one of us carries is inescapably our own private anguish. Thankfully or not, the subconscious does a great job of hiding these unfortunate scars.
I gave my virginity to a guy that I loved and cherished, beyond measure. We waited until the timing was right and on a beautiful night together, it happened. Of course it was awkward for me because- well, it's sex. It wasn't the first time for him, and the shear anxiety I had about my naked body alone was enough to make me want to puke. As I shared this story on Big Bear last weekend, I felt like I was that young woman again. I felt the shame of it come to crumble my thin layer of self-esteem, all over again, because after "the sex" was done- he accused me of not being a virgin; The guy that I had on a pedestal put me 6 feet under. I had given all that I was, to him, and he called me a liar. I couldn't tell you anything about the rest of that night- his words left me with only one small memory. A memory to never give all of myself to anyone. I'm not sure if he believed my pleads of honesty about it, not that it mattered. When I gave him all of me, he left me feeling unworthy of being loved physically and emotionally. He was not intentionally planting these feelings in me. I can see from his point of view that he meant to believe that I was a virgin, but the act of sex itself didn't allow him to perceive that I was.  There is more to it than even just that, but it's various other histories that are not mine to tell. What I can tell you though is that it was just a week ago that I realized that one night, 23 years, 13 days and 2 divorces ago, I broke a piece of my heart away and buried it so deep that I only found it on the top of a mountain.
It still makes me want to puke just thinking about it. Now that it is being carried on my sleeve, with a few other pieces of my heart that I have uncovered, I want to drape myself in beautiful linens and never lose these pieces of my heart again.
Why am I showing you this shame? You may think- shame? Why is she calling it shame? Brene' Brown talks about shame and vulnerability and I'm sure I've mentioned her before. She defines shame as the belief of being inherently 'bad' (unworthy, less than..etc) and guilt she defines as doing bad. We've all felt guilty about something- hurting someone's feelings, lying to a friend, even calling out sick to work. But this? This is my shame. Even more- my shame is that I do not feel strong enough to to try again. Remember that ledge last fall I thought was a safe bet, but ended up being devastated once I got out there? That I was told in no uncertain terms, that I was amazing and such a great match, but that even with those qualities, I wasn't enough- yep, it's on my sleeve too.
To add insult to my vulnerability resilience- earlier this year I was told by someone that I love, someone that I would give my life for, that I was "fucking stupid for going to Greece because I was helping people that would come to the US and kill us."
I was shamed for being someone that I thought was good and decent, that I thought would make them proud of me.
These events, these happenings came out of me and flooded the air around us on the top of Big Bear. I started and couldn't stop and the wide eyes of my Bali sisters only made me think that my sleeves were bleeding and making a mess, and I never wanted to be thought of as a mess.
If this were you talking to me, I know what I would tell you- I would validate that those are some seriously heavy things to work through. I would tell you that one of the most difficult things has already been done- the realization of the self-protective walls that have been built, and acknowledging that those walls are keeping wonderful things from happening and need to be taken down. I would tell you that in all of those painful memories were people who reacted out of fear and misunderstanding on their part and not on the inherent truth of who you are as a person. I would tell you to stop carrying their projected pain around.
In this shirt of broken pieces, I feel safest with those arms wrapped closely to my body. There is less of a feeling of being vulnerable. Wearing this shirt, with the broken pieces of myself on it's sleeve, I do laundry, go grocery shopping, read, work, visit my family and friends, attend church, laugh, and stare off into the sunset. The view from Big Bear showed me that when I wear this shirt, I do not trust, date, care or even hope for those things. I can not bear it. I do not seek friendships with the new people I meet. Instead, I project onto others this emergent need for them to help the hurting children in this world. The children of Syria and South Sudan. I project onto others the belief that there should be no support for someone who shows contempt or disdain for women, this man who is so narcissistic and foul to my senses. Who would certainly call me names and belittle me if I were ever so unfortunate to be in a room with his ego maniac self. An arrogant, racist bigot running for president no less.
These uncovered pieces of my heart, that have taken rest on my sleeve, don't feel like they are bleeding so much anymore, but that they are fossilizing and shrinking, one sleeve on top of the other. At times I even find myself blaming men for all of the world's ailments. Women are not raping and pillaging African villages. Women are not beheading captives or burning children alive. Women are not beating refugees in the streets or at the borders. Women are not buying toddlers as sex slaves. I feel the bile in my throat and the anger in my heart. Which makes me realize that the security of my closely wrapped shirt is nothing but an illusion. Because when I look at myself in the mirror, I see that it has become a straight jacket. And it is heavy. I am weary of the prospect of healing these wounds. Opening scars of such caliber may even be more painful than the original injury. I ask myself what good it would do. That someday I may fall in love again- not worth it. To foster truly meaningful, deeply connected friendships- I've got as many friends as I need. To have faith and hope in the human race- have you seen our presidential candidates? To have hope that I am worthy, good, decent and lovable- and can trust others with my wounds- sounds good - but ultimately, I must heal these wounds because I want to be a light in this world. I want to be a smile and a loud laugh. I want to inspire others to do the same. I want to show the world that my scars exist but will not nail me to be an unmovable heart. I want to grin and say I have hurt much more deeply than this sweet child. I want to lean in and whisper- "Those pieces of your heart were not yours to keep. Now, it's time to let them go find their true owners, because sweet child, the more of your heart you give away the more you get in return."
I do know one thing for sure- just by allowing myself to write this, to show up and honor my ability to do the best I know how to do, then and now, I have gotten the love and support from the only person that makes a difference, and that's me.