Being Colorblind

I used to say it. I used to think it. I never EVER ONCE, in all my growing-up years and even into adulthood, considered that I might be part of a mindset that unknowingly promotes racism. But I was. And I said it, and thought it.

What did I say? I said that I was colorblind. I said that I didn't see color.

But of course I did. I'd have to be blind not to see color. And what I thought and said about NOT seeing it only further alienated me from the very people I thought I was allying myself with. Because guess what... THEY see it. They see it when they get up in the morning and look at themselves in the mirror. They see it when they try to wait for a bus, reflected in the eyes of those who notice them standing there. They see it when they are outside taking a walk and decide to stand in a building's overhang and wait for a friend to come out.

And for me to say that I don't see color ... discounts and dismisses their experience of the world. It makes them invisible, and let's face it - everyone wants to be seen, to be acknowledged for their existence. The color of their skin is just as much a part of them as having fingers and toes. And their skin color dictates how the world treats them, what kinds of choices they make about everyday things, how they feel about their society, and how they interact with people who are outside of their circle. It is like an insult to them when I say I don't see color.

Photo courtesy of
Alec White at Pixabay

I have learned instead to say, "I see you." I have learned to say, "Teach me about your experience of your culture." I have learned to honestly ask people what it is like to BE them. I have learned to honor the existence and the history of those who are different from me, and to be curious about it, and to celebrate what is different and unique about each individual. I have learned not to assume that just because a person has a particular skin color, that all people who have that skin color feel this or that way, or think this or that way, or act this or that way. They don't. They don't in the same way that not all white people have similar beliefs or lifestyles or political leanings. It does a disservice to everyone to pigeon-hole people based on anything they might hold in common.

While it is true that we all bleed red, that we are all the same underneath, that every life matters, the reality of our society is that people of color are treated and viewed by so many in society as less-than. The reality is that racism is rampant and it runs amok in our world. The fact of the matter is that white people, like myself, have a societal privilege in our western culture that people of color do not. And it is for this reason that I join with thousands and millions of others in saying, "Black Lives Matter."  I don't say "All Lives Matter" because that silences those whose lives don't matter in today's society.

I saw an illustration of equality versus equity a few years ago that has stuck with me. It is a three-part cartoon depicting three people: a tall person, an average-sized person, and a little person, who are trying to watch a ball game from behind a five-foot wall. In the first illustration, the tall person can easily see over the wall. The average person can see but just barely. And the little person cannot see at all. Then there were two illustrations under that one. The one on the left put an equal-sized box under each person. In this illustration, the little person could just barely see over the fence, and the taller ones had an even better view from equally higher-up. This one was labelled "Equality." On the right, in the illustration labelled "Equity," the tall person who did not need a box, was not given one. The average-sized person was given a box tall enough so that he could reach the same height as the tall person, and the little person was also given an even taller box so he could enjoy the game from the same height of the tall person. In this way, each of them could enjoy the game to the same degree.

This is a wonderful illustration of why I believe that those in the dominant culture do not need to be stroked and given special consideration. They already have the privilege of seeing the world without assistance. Those who need help and recognition should get it to the degree that they have been disadvantaged. And the history of white culture has many, many examples of the oppression of other races, especially black people (and yes, this is documented!) throughout the history of our interactions with other people who don't look like us.

From the time I was a little girl of ten years old, when I met a black man for the first time, I have been intrigued by people of color. But what I didn't know then, and what I still didn't know even as recently as ten years ago, was how difficult it was (and is) for those who are not white. We don't even think about the same things as people of color when we think of everyday activities that most of us take for granted. Going for a walk in a quiet neighborhood after dark ... going into a store in broad daylight ... walking the dog ... driving a car with tinted windows ... paying for an item by check ... waiting in the park for a friend ... all of these things we take for granted and never once think that we might not make it home alive. But people of color, and especially black people, do. Every. Day.

If recent events have not highlighted these facts for you, then it might be time to honestly investigate how best to honor people who are targets of racism in your city, in your province or state, in your country. Look for stories told by the actual people themselves, and not by white people telling their story for them.

Listen. And say it with me. Black Lives Matter.

#BLM #ISeeYou

The right to take up space

Some time ago, I was watching a comedian on television do his routine.  Comedians are sometimes the only people who can get away with telling truth because they tell it in a funny way (they hope). This comedian's name was Greg Rogell, and the line I remember most is when he started talking about golf and golf caddies. "Golf is the only sport that comes with a slave." He then started to demonstrate. He held his microphone like it was a golf club, made the classic golf swing with it, and then dropped the mike on the floor and walked away.

While that was funny, Mr. Rogell was also highlighting an attitude that exists not only in golf, but in everyday life.  Some people, for reasons that still mystify me, have a really hard time with the simple concepts of saying Please and Thank you.  If someone puts themselves out to help them, especially if that putting out is physically or psychologically hard for them, you'd think that "thank you" might be on the list of things to say.  Treating people with courtesy, respecting their personhood, would seem to be a basic skill.

But no. Instead, such people are more likely to find fault with something else that same person is NOT doing, but which they never said they expected. Since different people have different priorities, it is impossible to read minds; expectations need to be stated at the outset, even if it might seem like a no-brainer.  For example, I'm more of a sit-and-visit kind of person; the housework can wait.  For others, housework is this huge thing and they can't sit and visit until it's out of the way. So my sitting and visiting is like laziness to them, perhaps even inconsideration. Yet their refusal to sit and visit until the housework is done tells me that things and appearances are more important to them than friendship and spending time with people. Dishes don't have feelings. People do.  

And yet, who is it that apologizes when the topic comes up? Typically it has been me - because no matter which way you slice it, for whatever reason, I usually end up looking like the one in the wrong... and I have been cow-towing to guilt trips my whole life.

All of my life, I have been fighting for the right - taken for granted by most - to take up space in the world, to be appreciated, and to own my own feelings and opinions without being told (verbally or non-verbally) that they are insignificant. Or wrong.  Or whatever other negative adjective you might want to use.  I'm uncomfortable with confrontation, and my natural response is to withdraw or feel bad for friction existing between people - even if I'm not one of those people. The fact that it exists makes me feel and act guilty.  I lose sleep. I get far more upset for far longer than I need to. Often, I feel like if I screamed at the top of my lungs to be heard, nobody would listen anyway; even if I have something important to say, a large part of me doesn't believe anyone will pay attention to it. 

Photo "Businesswoman Asking To Stop" by imagerymajestic at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Maybe (and I know that this is a rather big logical jump for some) maybe a big part of it has to do with the fact that I'm under five feet tall. Not being taken seriously because of my height, not having my short legs taken into consideration when doing tasks that take an average-sized person about half the number of steps it takes me, and being twitted (or laughed at) for something over which I have no control, is one of those sore spots with me, because I've had to put up with it all of my life.  

People do it without thinking of the consequences, and they think that by doing so they are funny, or somehow superior.  As if it is by some accomplishment of theirs that things are easier for them (when it is simply a fluke of DNA), they criticize (or laugh) and tell me to keep up. (By the way, these are the people who treat me like a slave without saying thank you...)  Or they laugh and tell me to stand up (when I'm already standing.) Or they worry out loud (like someone did once), when I drop a few pounds, that I'll "disappear."  One person even looked past me and asked where I was ... pretended he couldn't see me.

Ouch!  That behavior and those kinds of statements convey dismissal of my existence and (knowingly or not) they are an attack on my worth.  They reduce all that I am down to what I look like on the outside, and they fail to acknowledge accomplishments that a regular-sized person would be proud of and never would expect to have called into question. Yet it happens to me all the time! Because of that patronizing "I'm better than you, and you don't even have the right to exist" mentality, this kind of belittlement (no pun intended) really hurts. 

In the past, I wouldn't say anything when people treated me this way (or worse yet, I would try to laugh it off), but all that succeeded in doing was (a) send the message that I was okay with it, and (b) make my resentment grow and grow so that finally, I would explode - and not in a nice way.  Someone would invariably get hurt.  And then I would end up looking like the bad guy.  After all, they were "only having fun." Or worse yet, they considered their fun-loving nature (read here: cruelty) to be part of their personality, and took my affront to their unthinking behavior as a personal attack against them.  Suddenly they were the injured party.

Wow. What is worse, I would beat myself up for weeks, months, sometimes even years, for something that at the source, had more to do with someone else's thoughtlessness and insecurity than it did about my reaction to it. It's what kept me in abusive relationships with some people for far too long.

So I'm looking at things a little differently now.  I am telling myself that I have a right to take up space, that my feelings and opinions matter and are valid, and that I have the right to tell someone who is behaving like a jerk toward me that they're behaving like a jerk.  I have the right to expect an apology from them, (not the other way around) and I have the right to require them to be accountable for their actions, to realize that they can't just say any old thing they want to and to blazes with the consequences.  I have the right to be angry when that happens, to work through that anger and to take the time that I need to do that fully before moving past it and on with my life, with - or without - them.  

Maybe someday soon, I might even act on those new ways of thinking. 

Stranger things have happened.

Learned by crocheting

The last couple of weeks have been rather stressful at our house, due to one daughter having surgery and another working through some interpersonal problems surrounding boundaries and freedoms, trust and respect, and rights and responsibilities. We as parents have also learned - or perhaps relearned - some old lessons. 

To de-stress, I decided to try something my [temporarily] disabled daughter has been doing to pass the time: crocheting. A friend came over one night to show her how - and I watched. After she had made a few simple items, I decided to try my hand at it - and was (pardon the pun) hooked! 

After spending the last week crocheting, I have learned that my fingers do indeed have muscles (they told me so in no uncertain terms!) and that I can keep away from other, more fattening pursuits by keeping those fingers busy (and it doesn't hurt that I don't want to get crumbs, or grease, or gunk, on my creations!)

I already know how to knit a little bit, and even though I had learned some lessons the hard way in knitting, it surprised me that I had to learn them all over again in crocheting!  I mean, not just about the skills required, but about the whole process. 

"White Glove" courtesy of nuttakit at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

As I learned - or relearned - how to work with yarn with respect to the art of crochet, I found myself humbled by the failures and having several of those "aha" moments along the way.

Here are some of the lessons I mean - and as I write, I find that I'm not just talking about crochet, but about life. Relationships. Setting boundaries. Letting go.

You will see what I mean:

Don't hold on too tightly
Hold the yarn, the makings of the masterpiece, lightly. If you hold on too tightly, the work will get all bunched up, lose its softness, become stiff and hard to do anything with. You'll lose your place, skip a stitch, and you'll work much harder than you need to work in order to make the next stitch. And the next. And every stitch after that. And to be honest, you'll end up hurting yourself by repeating motions over and over again while you are all tensed up. 

Let go. 

I forget this when it comes to people, especially people I care a lot about. I want so much for them to succeed that I tend to grab on to them too tightly... which only serves to reduce my ability to interact with them. Tensions build. The relationship becomes strained, stiff, unnatural. People can't breathe around that kind of clinginess, which is tantamount to controlling. 

Give yourself a break
Learning a new skill and seeing some progress with it is intoxicating at times. When I'm doing a project, I can't wait to see the finished product and sometimes I forget to take breaks. And then I wonder why my eyes can't focus on things across the room, or why I have pins and needles in my fingers from sitting in one position so long (especially when holding on too tightly) and thinking ever so quietly (and stubbornly) to myself, "Just one more row." 

It doesn't work like that. When life is out of balance, other things suffer. Taking a break to rest - or to do other things - can really give enjoyment and perspective to a task (or a bunch of tasks) that sometimes - especially in relationships that are strained - be very draining. 

It doesn't need to be much. For example, last evening, my husband had somewhere to go and I had the choice of staying home and crocheting ... or going to a local department store for an hour. I opted for the store. I hadn't had an outing "just for me" in months. And I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I even stopped at a nearby McDonalds for a small soft drink, and on the way back I got a smoothie to take home to my oldest, who can't get out of the house just now. It made her evening! And mine too: I ran into a young fellow at the McDonalds whom I hadn't seen in years - we caught up on the latest news and he even hugged me ... in public! The pièce de résistance was seeing the delighted look on my daughter's face after a particularly trying day, as I presented her with her smoothie. ☺

It's okay to do a "do-over." 
Frustrating as it is to get half-way through a piece and realize you've been doing something wrong the whole time, it's better to unravel the entire thing and start over than it is to muddle through and end up with something that doesn't fit. (Yes, I did the latter. Oh well - the hat will fit a child. Sighhh.)

It's okay to start over again. It's okay to admit mistakes, even if by doing so the end result takes three times longer to do, than it is to blunder ahead and have to apologize for all the holes and tangled mess you made. (And yes, I've done the latter - with my kids. Dozens of times. Sighhh.) I'm learning to stop before it gets too far, to stop dead in my tracks and to admit my mistakes, go back to where I went wrong and start over.  This has so many applications: ground rules that don't work, parental overreactions, and making concessions that get out of hand, to name but a few. 

Stitches make rows; rows make a work of art
Getting blasé about the little things makes for bigger mistakes later on. Stitching every stitch, not skipping stitches unless instructed to, leaves holes that look like blemishes in the piece. Even such a small thing as forgetting to add a stitch at the end of a row (or a round) that is the same height as the rest of the row (or the round) can make the finished work look amateurish and crude. 

Little concessions made, boundaries not set (or not enforced) make way for bigger concessions and more broken rules (and hearts) later. It's so much better (even if it's harder) to pay attention to the little things. Such a simple matter as saying please and thank you (and meaning it) - or little courtesies such as turning off an appliance (or light) that you turned on - or a decision made to treat the other person's feelings with respect by not criticizing or belittling (even in jest) can make the world of difference in the fabric of our lives, and the lives of those with whom we are in relationship. 

Trust the designer and follow the pattern
On my first major project earlier this week, (I referred to this earlier) I looked at how my hat project was turning out, and I thought, "That's not right. It'll be too big." So, I started to narrow the work beyond what the pattern said. 

And it ended up being too small. 

Duh-h.

Lesson learned. All was not lost; I could give my finished hat to a child or a really petite adult. However, my plan to give it to my daughter (whose head is just as big as mine if not bigger, apparently) was foiled. 

Sometimes I just have to trust that the Designer really knows what He's doing and just concentrate on what I'm told to do next. Even if it doesn't make sense at the time. Even if I think it won't turn out right. The moment I start thinking I know better, that's when things take a turn for the worse. I can't control what someone else says, does, believes, or thinks. When I try to control it (or the other person), my effort blows up in my face. I've proven that time and time again. 

You'd think I would have learned by now. 

However, one thing I will say: Experience is a great teacher.

Gently

For the last few months, as a steady stream of young people flows through our house to meet the social needs of one of our children, I've been noticing how some of them interact - specifically, how some of them treat each other.

Or rather, I should say, how they mistreat each other.

Maybe I missed the memo permitting friends to disrespect each other, call each other unspeakable names, strike each other, and use each other (and use their friends' parents) to "have fun". 

On the other hand, perhaps it's still wrong to treat another human being with disdain (even in jest!) - no matter how much right we feel we have to do so - much more wrong if that right we feel that we have is gained by means of familiarity. What I'm saying is that all too often, people can treat their family and friends in a way they'd never dream of treating other people. They justify cruelty by saying that the formality of rules and manners isn't necessary among friends. 

I've experienced relationships like this. Two people, both in extreme dysfunction, feeding off each other and using each other to meet the other one's emotional needs to be stroked, to feel important, to put the other one down - even joking around - to feel better about the self. 

I've seen these relationships fall apart, time after time. I've even witnessed marriages crumble over years and years, only to eventually fail, because one person (or both) got so incredibly tired of the other person taking him or her for granted, assuming the other person would "understand" - while all the while there were stress fractures that got deeper and deeper. Then, one day, one more unkind word, one more inconsiderate act, one more joke at the other one's expense - and someone just up and walks away, leaving the other bewildered. After all, it's always been this way; how could this happen?

It happens because common courtesy apparently isn't all that common. 

The old saying goes, "Familiarity breeds contempt." Time and time again, people forget to treat each other's treasure (the irreplaceable things that are most important to them) gently. 

Gently. 

Photo "Teenage Girls Gossiping" courtesy of Ambro at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

I know one woman who - every day for the last forty plus years - has made fun of her husband's height. She is taller than he is and ... she never lets him forget it.  

Every time she lords it over him, I see him cringe. He dies a little bit inside with every "short joke" she makes. He's learned not to object because then ... she laughs at him.  How much longer, I wonder, before his love and patience run out and he leaves her physically? He's already done it emotionally ... Or (worse yet, it could be argued) how many years has she removed from his life? Talk about shooting yourself in the foot!

And truly.  How much more effort does it take to be kind than to ridicule someone's choices, or (worse yet) poke fun at those things over which he or she has no control at all? (Height. Hairline. Age.) And it could be anything - any difference - and happen at any time! One middle aged man walking by the vehicle of a "friend" in a parking lot after a church service yells out to the driver (within earshot of his wife, who is beside him in the car) "Who's that old woman in there?" 

Seriously?

How much more effort and thought does it take to be considerate than to be unthinking? I guess I just answered my own question. People just don't want to THINK - they prefer to run on autopilot. All the while, they spew out poison on people and expect them to take it because they've bought into the fallacy that "Love means never having to say you're sorry." 

No. Tyranny means never having to say you're sorry. 

Love is patient, kind. It thinks of the other person first. (Which um, involves thinking. Wow.) I guess that is what counselors mean when they say that healthy relationships take work.

Hmm.

Back to square one

I picked up my new laptop today. The experience was ... well, bittersweet.

The saga of the Mac is not quite finished; I phoned the repair guys today and left a message for when they open the shop up on Monday morning at 10:30 (yes, that's right: 10:30 to 5:30, Monday to Friday!) that I want my MacBook Pro back the way I took it to them, the wires and gadgets hooked up even if it doesn't work, and I'll settle up when that is done. Basically, I don't want them touching it any more than necessary. Of course I didn't tell them that.

Then I'll take it to the place I bought it, and see if they'll do something for me or whether I nullified my warranty when I took it to someone else to do repairs. 

Time will tell. At this point, if a replacement happens, it's gravy.

In the meantime, I am very grateful for this new laptop. It's quite different from both the Mac and my husband's PC - different feel to the keyboard, different (updated) operating system (Windows 8) and other bells and whistles I could probably do without. ;)

It's nice to be sitting in my own seat again too ... such a small pleasure but I enjoy it immensely; I can lean my head back instead of having it propped forward. What a blessing. 

As much as I talk about self-care - and I talk about it a LOT - it still feels rather strange - like I feel guilty or something - to be spending all this time and money on myself. 

The restart button on many machines,
got the image from cherwriter.blogspot.com

I feel as though I've gone through a rite of passage, so to speak, giving legs to all the talk about looking after myself. Talking is one way for me to get the message, but as the saying goes, actions speak louder than words. This "indulgence" - if you want to call it that - is but the first in a string of little practical messages of self-worth that I'm sending to myself ... and they're not going to happen often - just once in a while. 

It also feels strange to be starting over again from square one. I have to put in all my bookmarks and contacts from scratch - what a pain - but the up side of that is that there were too many bookmarks I wasn't using anymore on my old machine - and contacts have updated their email addresses so I can get rid of the things that no longer are valid. So, in a sense, I'm getting a fresh start. Everyone needs one of those once in a while.  
Even if he - or she - doesn't deserve it.

When we are wrong

Frequently, when driving, I remind myself to check my mirrors - and I use my rear view mirror twice as much (at least) as I do the side mirrors.  Looking back once in a while lets me know where I am on the road in relation to the other drivers, and alerts me to potential problems of which I might not be aware otherwise.  Knowing where I am helps me make adjustments to compensate for errors - either my own or others' errors - that happen because of inattention or unexpected events. 

It's important to know where we are, if there's anything wrong, or that could go wrong.  And it's important to correct mistakes as soon as possible in order to avoid perpetuating them or making them continue and get worse. 

So it is in life.  

I lived most of my life trying to avoid admitting that I was in the wrong about anything.  I spent a lot of my time trying to protect myself instead of facing my fears and admitting my mistakes.  I never truly apologized for anything, because I'd been taught through example that forgiveness was making excuses for the other person, so I firmly believed that apologizing was giving other people the excuses they would need in order to make what I did "not wrong." 

Likewise, I never truly forgave anyone because either I denied that what they did was wrong ("they had their reasons" and all that) or I refused to forgive, believing that by "forgiving" them, it would be like saying that what they did wasn't hurtful...when it was.

But the last three and a half years has been a learning experience for me.  I discovered that what I had been taught about forgiveness was not correct; in fact, it was the opposite of the truth.  And I learned - by trial and error - how to take responsibility for my own actions.  This was huge for me.  One of the tenets of my new lifestyle since that time is to occasionally check my rear view mirror - and when I am wrong, to promptly admit it.  No excuses, no justifications.  No trying to put a positive spin on it.  Just admit, "Yeah.  I messed up.  I am sorry.  I'll try not to do that again."  

Notice I said "when" I am wrong.  Not "if."  I mess up.  A LOT.  Admitting it does a few things.  First, it forces me to take responsibility for my own actions, and opens me to the possibility of changing how I interact with this or that person. Second, it acknowledges that the other person is hurt.  Sometimes all anyone needs is to know that he or she has been heard, understood, validated.  Third, it paves the way for me to be able more easily to forgive myself (often the hardest one to forgive!) and to move on.  (It could be argued that nobody deserves a second chance, but everybody needs one. Including the person who has erred.)

Also notice another application of the word "when."  What I mean is "as soon as."  When we are in the wrong, even if there is fault on both sides, as soon as we realize that someone else has been injured, that's the time to make it right.  Even if they don't take it well. Even if they don't forgive right away. 

Source of this image

Leaving it alone for a short while might possibly allow someone to stop being angry and be more receptive to an apology.  But leaving it too long (that is, longer than a couple of days) will definitely cause the resentment to fester and make it even harder to reconcile with the person ... perhaps even impossible.  Promptly admitting my error - not only to myself but to the person or people I have wronged - is hard, but it is necessary.  

There is rarely an argument in which only one person is at fault.  But admitting my mistake is not the time to be bringing up the other person's mistake. It's a time to clean up my side of the street, to pick up the mess I made.  It's not about me and my pain; it's about the other person and his or her pain.  "If you are about to make your offering to God," Jesus said, "and you remember that your brother (friend) has something against YOU, leave your gift at the altar. YOU go to him first and be reconciled to him, and THEN come and present your gift."  (Matthew 5:23, 24 - emphasis mine)  That not only clears my conscience, but it just makes good sense in relationships.

It's possible to learn to accept responsibility without wriggling out of it.  It takes guts of course - but it is possible. And truth be told, it's absolutely essential.

Owning up

I was talking to a dear friend this evening who, nearly six months ago, was badly hurt by someone he trusted lying to him, concealing the truth from him about something.  The person never apologized when it happened, and for the last five months has been justifying his behavior, saying he didn't do anything wrong.  

Suddenly, a few days ago, he decided to apologize.  But his apology was way more about explaining why he did what he did, than in taking any responsibility for hurting my friend.  He said, in essence, the same old thing: that he didn't feel like he'd done anything wrong - and he implied that my friend was too sensitive and over-reacting.  

That's not an apology.  That's just more of the same self-justification that has been going on for months.  

An apology goes like this:  "What I did hurt you.  I am sorry.  I was wrong."  

Period. 

Source of this photo

Whether the hurt was intentional or not is immaterial.  The phrase, "I didn't mean to hurt you" is the wrong thing to say when apologizing; it just is, no matter what a person is used to.  

Think of it this way - an example "off the top of my head."  Imagine (for the sake of the exercise) that I ask you to put your hand on a table, with your fingers spread.  You do so.  Then I start taking the butt end of a cutlery knife and hitting the table with it, aiming for the space between your fingers, first between the first and second, then the second and third, and so forth, and then back again. Faster and faster, back and forth.  In doing that, I miss and I hit the top of your finger with the heavy steel butt of the knife.  It hurts.  You draw your hand back and say ouch.  

Now - when I immediately say that I didn't mean to hurt you, does that make you feel better?

No.  You've still been hurt. And I'm the one who did it! Whether I meant to do it or not is not important. The fact that I did it IS.  The appropriate thing for me to say is "Oh - I'm terribly sorry! I shouldn't have even tried that!"  No justification, no excuse, no rationalization.  Just "I was wrong.  I'm sorry!" 

Now let's say I don't apologize and wait until two weeks later to do it, and then when I do, I tell you why I was doing such a dangerous stunt in the first place instead of just telling you that I'm sorry that I hurt you. Does that apology hold water? 

No way!!

Taking responsibility takes guts.  It really requires courage to own up and not try to protect ourselves when admitting that we wronged someone.  Justifying ourselves gives the message that the other person's pain doesn't matter, that we're more concerned about ourselves than we are about the other person. Besides, you can't do very much good if you're covering your butt all the time.  

Did my friend take the "apology" he received seriously?  
Of course not.  He's not stupid.

Someday I hope that this person "gets it" and is truly repentant for the hurt he caused - and that he owns up and says that he's sorry.  But by then, I just wonder if it might be too little, too late. 

Cornered

She knew she had only seconds to escape.

She'd seen that enraged look before.  She'd followed the quick glance that the woman, twice her height and over twice her weight, aimed toward the hook on the wall where they both knew there was a man's belt hanging for just such a time as this.  Her body suddenly felt flushed, tingling with inner electricity.  

She darted like a frightened deer through the opening between the woman's elbow and her waist.  She didn't think; she reacted.  She could hear heavy footsteps behind her, trying to keep up.  

She ran - no - clambered on all fours up the stairs like a spider monkey running from a jaguar, panic rising in her throat.  The steps followed. She dove into the nearest room - where to hide? - the deepest closet in the house!  She pushed her way past the dresses, trousers and coats inside, her breaths coming in small gasps, her pulse beating loudly in her own ears.  She didn't know it, but she was cornered. 

The footfalls stopped.  The woman's hand snaked inside, fished around relentlessly and grasped her by the arm, wrenching her from her safe refuge.  She could not stop herself from being surprised by the woman's face; it was at close range and contorted with rage, just like it was every time.  Yet she convinced herself she did not recognize it.  Her only recourse was to appease - in the split second before the first blow fell, she filled her lungs with air and screamed at the top of her lungs, "I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry...." over and over, even though she didn't know what she had done wrong to deserve this level of reaction. But she must have done something horrible.

Screams melded with sobbing as she, to no avail, continued to apologize.  Was it for existing? Was it for making the woman angry?  She didn't think of these things - she was only trying to get away - every twist of her body to escape the blows only opened a new angle of attack, fresh skin on which a welt would soon form. 

She didn't know how many times the arm raised and fell - how many stripes the cracked strip of leather would leave. It never crossed her mind to count them, to show them to someone.  She felt too guilty for the bruises the woman would show her on her own hand later - bruises left on the parent by gripping the belt to strike the child.  Eventually - seconds or minutes later - the hitting stopped. The strong hand released the girl's arm and the heavy footsteps receded, leaving the child to continue her sobbing in a heap on the floor, totally broken - irreparably damaged where no one could see: deep inside. Not by welts that would heal, but by the knowledge that she was of no worth.  

She was only eight years old - already a discarded old woman in her heart - her childhood, her personhood ripped from her again and again.

It is forty years later.  Now the woman, the former aggressor, seems so much smaller physically than her daughter - who herself has children of her own.  

Yet in the former daughter's soul, she is still very much afraid: afraid of being attacked, cornered like prey - and devoured.  The scars on her spirit have marked her throughout her life, left her perpetually sobbing inside, calling out soundlessly to everyone who will listen that she is sorry, she is responsible, it's her fault - whatever the problem is or who might be to blame. Her fear, her woundedness, her determination with never being out of control ever again, of controlling and manipulating those she loves in order to protect them, has driven her own husband and children away from being able to connect with her, and likewise alienated people who would have offered their friendship.  

She is unhappy and alone, even though on the outside, all seems to be perfectly fine.  Her external facade has held, perhaps with a few cracks.  But she bears within the burden of all the shame of all those terrible rages, the feeling of being cornered, of that all-too-common breathless, unspeakable terror.

She snaps out of her reverie, and catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror.  She looks into her own face in the glass, and sees the little girl's heart behind those eyes, the one who is hurting, who is abandoned, who is lonely. She takes a deep breath and lets it out, slowly. This is going to take some time. 

She glances down at the trembling page in her hands and reads the words on it, for the first time of many, many times, reads to the frightened little girl inside:

"What happened to you was not your fault.  It was wrong.  And it was her problem, it was never yours."  
"You ARE worth something; you are worth a great deal."  
"You can be yourself - you don't have to change into anyone or anything else." 
"You are precious, you are treasured, you are loved."  "
"Your opinion matters."  
"What you feel is normal for what you have been through."  
"People can like you exactly as you are."  
"You can feel what you feel.  It's okay.  You can cry, you can laugh."  
"You can like yourself.  You can love yourself."
"You CAN heal."

A New Freedom and a New Happiness

Recently I had to attend an all-day workshop with someone I really didn't want to be in a room with.

This person was someone I found hard to be around because in my experience, she used some sort of scented product that instantly gave me a headache whenever she came within 10 feet of me.

She was also one of the people I named last fall in a work-related fiasco I spoke about in an earlier post (click here to read about it.)

I knew I had to talk to her but I was dreading it. I believed her to be unreceptive to what I had to say.

At the workshop though, I noticed that she was not wearing any scented product. So at the end of the day, I saw her by herself and thought that this was the perfect opportunity to thank her. I spoke to her and said that I had been meaning to talk to her about last fall when all of that happened at work. We talked for about 10 minutes, and we each shared things the other didn't know. We were talking like friends at the end. She turned to me and said, "You know, I feel SO much better! Thank you for your courage in coming to me, I'm so glad you did!" We wished each other a great evening... she even offered to let others know the things about last fall that she had discovered during our chat - to get the word out.

I had this big silly grin all over my face as I walked to the car.

It made my day.

Pathway to Happiness - Taking Responsibility

In my last post I talked about the list I made of all the people who had hurt me in my life, how the wounds they inflicted made me feel, what they made me believe about myself and how that made me act toward others.

As I learned to forgive others in the process I described in my last post, there was something else that started to stir in my consciousness.

Not in every case, to be sure, but in a lot of cases I contributed to the strife and bitterness that existed between myself and the people who hurt me. I either played a part in that injury, reacted badly to it and ended up hurting them back, or out of my pain and powerlessness, I hurt others (sometimes many years later) who reminded me of them.

It was time to take responsibility for my part in my own demise. Because I had written these things down on my list, I started to see an emerging pattern, a theme of behavior and attitude that was not healthy, that kept me in a place of powerlessness and victimization, and in reactionary over-boldness and fear-based aggression. These were things that could only be called character flaws - like arrogance, self-pity, paranoia, rage, and selfishness. The more I saw them emerge, the more sickened I was by them, by how tied up in knots I was because of these defects in my psychological map. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't rid myself of them; this I learned very quickly. From previous experience, I absolutely knew that I had no power to deliver myself from these things. I needed help - serious help. And who better to help me than the One who made me??

I'd even gone to Him before with this whole bag of tricks I had built up - unsuccessfully because the next day (or hour) it would all come rushing back. I'd go to Him and tearfully confess to Him my failings. But there were no specifics. It was "all the times I failed You," and "all my sins."

That wasn't going to cut it. No, I had to be specific. I had to tell Him WHAT I had done, WHO I did it to, WHEN and WHERE it happened, WHY I did it and HOW it was ripping me to shreds inside.

I had to take responsibility for my own actions - before God. I had to admit to Him (and to myself, and to someone else - another human being whom I trusted completely) that there were things - ugly things - about me that I was so very ready for Him to take away from me. There was no holding back, no reservation about this readiness. It was high time. I was sick enough of the way I was, and I became entirely prepared, utterly desperate for God to step in and change me.

And then, bereft of my own resources, without demanding, arm-twisting, pleading or cajoling, I simply asked Him to remove my shortcomings. In detail - each character flaw, each unhealthy attitude.

So, knowing that this was way bigger than me, and that I was praying for the very thing that God so wanted to do in me, I just watched and waited for Him to work.

And miracle of miracles, slowly but surely . . . He did.

. . . more to follow . . .

Crow tastes ba-ad!

Oh, how I hate to "eat crow."

I think everyone does.

I hate it when I do some thing or other that is based on my gut reactions and I don't think it through, or I don't ask the right questions, or I don't go to the source before jumping to conclusions - and it comes back to bite me - uh - well, in the butt. Always. Every time I learn something new. I feel like Anne of Green Gables when she said, "Marilla, I never make the same mistake twice. But - oh, Marilla - there are ever so many to make!!"

This time I learned another very important lesson.

Never let someone else do your talking for you. Go to the person yourself and be your own mouthpiece. Even if it's hard. OUUUCH - that was hard to learn!!!

It began with me getting sick because people at work were wearing perfume and scented products. We have a scent-free policy at work and I was told that the managers couldn't enforce it because all they can do is accommodate the sufferer. Labour Relations got involved. They told me they couldn't do anything until I named names. I didn't want to but I didn't see any other way for me to get the message out that this was making me sick. I felt I couldn't go to the people who were wearing the stuff, because I couldn't get within 15 feet of them without getting a headache. Even 5 minutes' exposure (at the time) would give me a migraine. I felt I was stuck; I was in tunnel vision mode and couldn't see any other option than the one they gave me. (Read about my illness here).

Management never told me exactly what it was they were going to do. If I'd known, I never would have allowed it.

All I knew was that they were going to have "conversations" with these people. I thought that was a good idea; after all, I couldn't get near them to have those conversations ...and I HATE confrontation.

After a time, I noticed that the people I named were not speaking to me at all. I knew they were probably miffed at me, and that bothered me. However, I didn't know what else I could have done. I was stuck in the mindset that the kind of confrontation I would have to have with them must be face-to-face, and I couldn't do that - physically couldn't. Lately, though, God was working on me, and making me realize that things were not the way they should be between me and these people. Besides, some of them were still wearing perfumed products - even though they might not think they were. I finally approached someone to work out ways to talk to each of these people without putting myself at risk, but I hadn't put any of it into practice yet.

Thursday past, I had to take a file to one of these people. She - brave soul - honestly told me that she was very hurt by the way I handled the whole situation. Then she let me know what she had to go through last summer when I named names. She was called down to the union to have a formal reprimand put on her permanent record. She was told who made the complaint, what it was, and she was not given a chance to defend herself. She was treated as guilty from the get-go. She was totally blindsided.

I felt so very bad. I never intended for the people I trusted, the people who were in leadership and who were supposed to have everyone's best interest at heart, to put anyone into that position.

I apologized profusely for the pain she had to endure, the embarrassment, the trouble I got her into without knowing it. I freely admitted that I handled the whole thing badly. I explained to her where my head was at the time, but I made no excuses for my cowardice. I fully took responsibility for not going to her first - even by email - and trying to work things out.

The whole conversation took 10 minutes. At the end, she felt better, I felt better (sort of) and we understood each other. At least we're talking, which is more than what we were doing before.

That's one less conversation I have to have.
I've got about six more to go. (gulp) I feel like poor George of the Jungle right before his big swing (in the movie with Brendan Fraser). "Biggest swing ever, will hurt very much. But George have to do it! (...whimper....)"

I still don't like the taste of crow. But I know that it keeps me humble, and I have learned so much from every portion.

Even this one (yuck!)