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

Echoes in Time

They come back to haunt me at the most inopportune times. The words I heard in childhood sabotage my present, insidiously creeping in and making me believe that I am "unworthy of love and belonging", as Brené Brown describes shame. 

Shame was an almost constant companion for me when I was growing up. Almost everyone chimed in. My brothers, my teachers, my peers, and my mother - especially my mother - used shame as a teaching tool. 

It worked. It worked to make me ashamed of who I was. It worked to make me feel bad for existing. It made me doubt my abilities, change who I was to make someone - anyone - like me, and lowered my standards on who I hung around with. I didn't feel as though I was worth anything more than to be with people who would use me. So that's who I attracted. 

I found this pic on pixabay.com
for free!

The echoes haunt me in my dreams - usually in my mother's voice.  

"Come over here, stand up and show us all the height of laziness."  (She usually said this when we had company.)
"What in the world were you thinking? don't you know ANYTHING?"  
"Don't you DARE say that - they'll think we're poor!" (We WERE poor). 
"How do you expect to clean those dishes in cold water?" (The water was as hot as my tender child hands could stand). 
(After I cleaned the dishes and wiped and put them away) "You didn't wash off the table."
"No you may NOT climb that tree! Nice girls don't do that!"
"What are you doing still eating? You should have been done five minutes ago! Get over here RIGHT NOW and help me with the dishes!"
"Take that red shirt off and go put something decent on you! You look like a streetwalker!" 
"Don't wear black like that - it makes you look like a witch!" 
"What do you have on your face? Powder and paint make you look what you ain't..."
"Just wait until I get my hands on you! I'll beat you within an inch of your life!"

As a child, my dreams were filled with images of monsters lurking in the dark, coming to devour me; I could not escape them. I woke in panic often, and the familiar shapes of clothing hanging up in my room - in the dark - seemed transformed into horrific faces ready to jump at me if I approached. It took all my courage to walk the twenty feet to my parents' room and stand there in the doorway waiting for permission to enter. When she acknowledged my presence and I said, "Bad dreams" ... she always wanted me to climb over behind my father. "You kick the stars off the moon."  Pinned between my father and the wall, in spite of his snoring, I felt safe and I was able to sleep until morning.

It wasn't until many years later that I realized where the dreams came from, and that I had actually awakened from the monsters in my dreams and walked to their source in the waking world to ask her for help. I was one messed-up adult. Clearly I needed someone to mother me. I had spent nearly thirty years of my adult life looking for such a person. I would "overshare" constantly, looking for validation, acceptance, acknowledgement that I was worthy.  So many people turned away from me during those years. It was too much for them, and rightly so. Still others took advantage of that dependence and tried to control my life. They did not care about me, but only wanted to feel powerful. I wondered if I would ever be free of those echoes - the ones that told me that I would never amount to anything, the ones full of self-doubt and self-condemnation. I thought that I could find someone eventually who would love me the way a mother should love her daughter. Unconditionally.

I also found this pic on pixabay.com - for free!

Little did I know that the person I had been seeking this whole time was - to my great surprise - myself. When I was ready to face the monsters (and believe me, THAT took decades!), and got some help from a counsellor, I discovered that I could tell myself the words I needed to hear echoing in my mind instead of the ones that had followed me since childhood. 

I needed to hear those good words, those kind words, spoken gently to the small frightened child still within me. 
"You are worthy."  
"People can like you for exactly who you are; you don't have to change for them."  
"You can do this. You can do anything you set your mind to doing. You are smart, and loyal, and caring, and you are worth getting to know."  
"What happened all those years ago was not your fault."  
"What matters is that you try. You don't have to be perfect at everything."
"I believe in you."
"Here, let me hold you close - no reason - just that I love you."
"It's okay to take your time and eat. The dishes can wait. They are not going to sprout legs and walk away."  
"It's okay to ask for help if you need it. People who love you won't mind helping you if you get stuck." 

Occasionally, I still have to remind myself of those new words, and let them echo in my heart and mind to drown out the voices of the monsters. Fortunately, I have the tools I need to do that, and the support of my best friend in life and love, and the encouragement of the lady who made me a mom. I also have some pretty amazing friends, more than I ever thought possible.  

I am so blessed.  I am so loved.  And I have learned - as difficult as it's been - to start to love me too.

Unspoken

A year ago today, my world got rocked. 

No, I don't mean in the way that someone made my day or anything like that. I mean, it was rocked. It was hit by rocks, knocked off its moorings, blindsided, and so much so that for weeks, even months, I was unsure of anything anymore. 

I have thought about the experience often since then, painful as it is to do so, and all I can figure out is that I was a victim of - or more likely a participant in - a miscommunication that destroyed a promising friendship. And it all came down to expectations. UNSPOKEN expectations. 

You see, I had planned to stay a few weeks with this person while I was out of town. I was willing to pay for the cost of the groceries I would be using, and I was so grateful for their generosity in offering me a place to stay at less than I would have paid for regular accommodations. 

But, well in advance, every time I would mention or even ask what this person expected to receive, that person changed the subject.   They preferred to joke around - and I could take so much of that ... and then it became so much that I had to just make an excuse and go do something else. And this was before I even got there.

We should have talked. We should have talked about EVERYTHING. 

This person's idea of friendly banter was teasing. I hate teasing. Teasing was always malicious when I was growing up, and I grew to detest it. So when this person started doing this, laughing at me, twitting me about my height and telling me to keep up, and making fun of my Maritime expressions, it didn't feel like friendly banter to me. It felt like criticism at best and persecution at worst. 

So one evening this was happening and I started to react. And I reacted badly. And I said things that were, in fact, malicious. And this person was hurt. That was the first mistake... unspoken expectations. Not talking about what things meant to us, where the boundaries were. 

That night before bed, I apologized for losing my cool and then proceeded to explain where I had been coming from. All this person heard was someone who pretended to apologize and then justified her position. Resentment grew, unknown to me. I thought things would be better. But they weren't. They got cold. Real cold. Real quick. The teasing stopped, but it was replaced by stony silence. And I assumed that the person just needed time to recover. But that wasn't it at all. The individual had made a judgement of me and my motivations based on that person's upbringing ... and not mine.

You see, this person was brought up in a home where if you screwed up, you apologized without excuses, you took all of the blame for everything, and then you moved on, letting everyone be the way they were beforehand.  In my upbringing, nobody ever apologized that way; if there were apologies at all, they happened in the midst of people trying to understand why the other person did what they did. So to this person, my apology (which would have been accepted with open arms in my own family) was suspect, and not to be trusted.

But there was something else, too.  There were other unspoken expectations, and rather than talk about them, this person never even considered that I might come from a different perspective. It had to do with the rules surrounding house guests. In this person's home, everyone - even guests - pulled their weight, and nothing was free. The unspoken rule was that you cleaned up your own mess, you paid your way, and you did it without being asked and without expecting any thanks. To do any less was just plain rude and selfish.

Photo "Girls Looking At Each Other" by Stuart Miles.
Courtesy of www.freedigitalphotos.net

I, on the other hand, grew up in a home where, whenever anyone came to visit, they would offer to help out, and my mom would shoo them away from the kitchen and say, "No, you are guests here. You don't need to do that." If they offered money, it was, "Keep your money. Your money is no good here." So I had the unspoken expectation that hosts waited on guests hand and foot. And if a guest insisted on helping, they were profusely thanked (unlike the family members, who never received a thank you, not. even. once. ... but I digress.) If I (as their daughter) tried to do something on my own, my help was not appreciated, and I was often criticized for not doing it right. So I learned to only help when I was given explicit instructions, because to do otherwise would invite parental anger.

So, back to a year ago.  It only took a few days of staying with this person after the initial misunderstanding when things really fell apart. I was not feeling well, for various reasons, but yet the task of carrying this person's things fell to me and I was never thanked. Not. even. once.  I felt as though I was treated like a slave.  All the while, I felt hesitant to do things like wash dishes and put them away, and I was keenly aware that this was someone else's kitchen and not mine. I didn't feel free to move around, and I was kind of scared of the dishwasher - had never used one of the more modern ones, and wasn't even sure how it opened, or where to put things in it. So I stayed away.  

So of course, this person thought I was an ingrate.  

I didn't know how to pay for things; at the grocery store, they would whip out their bank card before I could even speak - and all the time, resentment built on both sides. 

Each of us felt put-upon. So when the blow-up happened, it happened BIG. 

I won't go into the gory details, but when this person finally confronted me, three days later, there was a list of things that took 20 minutes to deliver... and I was not used to confrontation. I apologized; my apology was not accepted and the person accused me of justifying my behavior because I mentioned not knowing how to help and not knowing what the rules were. I paid the person twice what they had already spent on me in groceries. I did not receive any kind of comment or even a statement that it was too much.

Unspoken expectations.

That evening and the next morning, I tried to chip in and show that I was trying to follow the rules this person had laid out, but it was too late. The cold shoulder persisted. I no longer felt welcome. I was on the verge of tears the whole time - partly because of the experience and partly from lack of sleep. Finally, when they left to do something with their family, I arranged to move out and pay strangers to live elsewhere, like I should have done in the beginning. 

The relationship never recovered.  It took a long time for me to recover from the experience. I was not used to not being believed, not used to essentially being called a lazy, selfish liar, even though those words were never used exactly. It rankled that this person could feel this way about me. And to this day, the memory of how things happened and thoughts about what I could have done differently plague me. And all I can figure out from all of it is that if we had just talked about things without judging each other - if we had just listened to each other without making assumptions - our friendship might have survived.

Good fences make good neighbours

Over the last couple of months, ever since someone tromped all over one of my personal boundaries, I've been doing a lot of thinking about boundaries or personal limits, what they are, why they're important, how to recognize them if and when they exist, and how to respect them. I've even thought a little about when it is okay to cross those boundaries, and when it is NEVER okay to do so. 

Until I was in my forties, I didn't even know that personal boundaries existed, because when I was growing up, they didn't. When I started realizing that I had a right to take up space, that others had boundaries that I was not allowed to cross and that the same applied to me, I started realizing how many times throughout my life that people had barged onto my private property, even in the name of "caring," and proceeded to wrestle my rights to the ground. 

For example, I kept a diary when I was a teen. In it, I poured out my hopes, wishes and dreams, ideas I had, no matter how outlandish. I explored the depth of the feelings I was feeling, confided my deepest thoughts, and I found that in doing so, there was an outlet, a way for me to work through a very confusing and intense period in my life. 

One day, my mother found it. 
She read it.
She was horrified by the subject matter and the intensity.

She made me burn it. Not just it, but all of them that had gone before.

I sat in front of the furnace and wept in grief and intense anger and hatred as I burned - page after page - was forced to destroy what to me represented my soul: literally months and years of a journey I could have looked back on in my twenties and thirties ... and laughed about. 

That was a boundary that should never have been crossed. 
My mom thought she was being a good mom, protecting me, raising me "right." But she violated my privacy, judged me, and her punishment was way over the top.

It took me decades to forgive her. And yes, that was something that needed to be forgiven because IT WAS WRONG, and it hurt me terribly, even though she never apologized. 

Photo "White Fence" courtesy of scottchan at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

When I had children of my own, I made mistakes with them too. I remember freaking out when I saw some things that one or the other of the kids was doing ... and then I remembered my old diary. And it made me stop and rethink. And yes, when I'd jumped over a fence onto their territory, I apologized ... eventually.

I remember that while they were still small and there were going to be people coming over to the house for a visit, people with children their age or thereabouts ... I would tell them to go through their things in advance and set aside those "special" toys that they didn't want to share, and we'd put them in a separate room that was off-limits until the guests went home. That way, they didn't have to feel forced to share ALL of their toys. It modeled for them that there are boundaries, that boundaries are a good thing to have, and that they had a right to their own privacy. That was HUGE. 

And it was one thing (among many) which helped me to build their trust over the years so that later, when I discovered something that I thought was horrible, I was able to listen and find out the "why" instead of freaking out and shutting forever conduits of communication that I wanted to stay open. I don't need to share exactly what those things were, because that's their stuff, not mine. But that communication stayed open, and at the end of the day, I'd rather that than secrets and lies.

So here's what I've learned about fences and about being a good neighbour.

• People have the right to have their own opinions. It is not my job to put them down for their beliefs and lifestyles.
• "Talking down" to someone is never okay. That includes both tone and body position. If someone is seated, sit. If they are shorter than you are, position yourself to be on the same level as they are, at the same eye level. 
• Nobody is any better than anyone else, regardless of age, gender, economical status, social standing, race, or belief. We are all in this together.
• Nobody has the right to tell anyone else what to do. Not even if asked. Giving advice is never a good idea. And downright giving orders (for whatever reason, even "caring,") makes people want to do the exact opposite of what you tell them. And they will never trust anyone who manipulates and controls them.
• People have the right to feel what they feel. Feelings are not wrong and need never be treated as such, regardless of age or gender. Babies to seniors, male to female and everything in between, feelings are feelings and they are valid and real to whoever feels them. 
• Kindness and acceptance go a lot further than condemnation and self-righteousness.

Good boundaries really do make good neighbours, good parents, good friends, and good spouses. The virtue of respect is one that - if cultivated in one's own heart and mind - can make this world a much better place. And, like all virtues, it is developed and nourished from the inside out.

Empathic Listening

It was over 25 years ago and I was a new mother. I'd been given all kinds of misinformation about nursing my baby - from all kinds of sources - and I was really, really sore as a result. At my husband's suggestion, I called a local La Leche League Canada leader. The lady on the other end of the phone listened to my predicament for a good five minutes without saying a word. And I'll never forget what the first word out of her mouth was (said with the kind of feeling that said "I've experienced this and I KNOW it's not fun in the least..."). The word was, "OUCH!"

The empathy in the tone of that one word was exactly what I needed. She went on to give me basic information that fixed the problem in minutes and allowed me to heal within a week.

What I liked most about our conversation was that she didn't come off all superior, she didn't preach at me, she didn't overreact, she didn't jump down my throat, and she didn't try to "convert" me. She just listened and she knew how to show that she was there to help - without making me feel like I was beholden to her. And oh yes, she left the choice up to me without insisting or belittling me, or saying that she was going to check up on me later.

All of those things that she didn't do? I've had them done to me.

Yeah, and by people who should probably know better. Or who have forgotten that people are people, not numbers or statistics.

Photo "Psychiatrist Examining A Male
Patient" by Ambro at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Empathy, as described by Carl Rogers (the father of modern psychotherapy), looks more like a quest to understand what it is like to BE the other person rather than an effort to appear knowledgeable about the problem. In this quest, (these are his own words, below):

... the therapist senses accurately the feelings and personal meanings that the client is experiencing and communicates this understanding to the client. When functioning best, the therapist is so much inside the private world of the other that he or she can clarify not only the meanings of which the client is aware but even those just below the level of awareness. This kind of sensitive, active listening is exceedingly rare in our lives. We think we listen, but very rarely do we listen with real understanding, true empathy. Yet listening, of this very special kind, is one of the most potent forces for change that I know. 

I feel blessed to have had the privilege of seeing a therapist who actually could sense what it was like to be me, to feel my feelings as if they were his own. It was a remarkably freeing experience, one I've never forgotten, and one I want to emulate if I ever get to be a counselor. There was no judgment, no "you should...." (which usually means "You should be more like me...") ... and I must say that being listened to for what felt like the first time in my life was a remarkable step toward wholeness. It gave me permission to find out who I really was, to get to know me, and to learn to like me.

That was huge. And I really hope that someday I can provide that atmosphere of trust for someone else who needs to follow that same path to self-discovery.

In or Out

For the last few days, I've been having a discussion with a friend about personality types. This friend claims, "I used to be an introvert," as if it was something negative, and then goes on to say that life-changing [positive] events turned him into an extrovert. His definition of introverts bothered me, because he described himself (as a "former introvert") as anti-social, painfully shy, people-hating, and other equally unbecoming adjectives. 

Upon further probing, I discovered that he had been repressed as a child and was not allowed to express his friendliness and caring by his overbearing and punitive father. He therefore became withdrawn and didn't seek out interactions with others. When he was finally away from his birth family, he had a spiritual experience that tore away the fetters and allowed what I believe was his true personality to shine forth.

I have been trying to tell this friend that introversion is not what he describes at all. Not every introvert is socially awkward or phobic. Not every introvert is antisocial or hates people. Not every introvert is shy. (He still uses those adjectives interchangeably with introverted.)

In fact, these qualities are probably quite well shared among both major personality types, just expressed in a different way. For example, a lot of extroverts are quite insecure on the inside - but instead of withdrawing, they tend to put on a smiling, brave face and often overcompensate by being extra-driven, extra-talkative, and/or extra-friendly.

Photo "Teenage Girls Gossiping" by
Ambro at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Most statistics will tell you that the introvert and extrovert population is just about evenly split. I tend to believe that the introvert population is under-reported (in other words, that there are many more introverts around than there are extroverts) because most introverts KNOW that they are introverts whereas most extroverts have no idea that they are extroverts, and they are therefore more likely to take a "personality types" questionnaire to find out what their type is. I can't count the number of times someone has said to me right before those ever-popular Myers-Briggs or Jungian exercises, "What major personality type do YOU think I am? I just can't figure it out..." Invariably that person is an extrovert (and not just borderline either. Extremely so!!)

Here is the ONLY basic difference between introverts and extroverts: where does the person get his or her energy? 

That's it. That's the whole difference. 

Extroverts are energized by being around other people; they need others like every animal needs oxygen to survive. Their orientation is "Out." Without social interaction, they become irritable, moody, sometimes depressed. Introverts are energized by being alone OR in the company of one (or at the most two) close and trusted friends. Their orientation is "In." Without their daily dose of quiet time, they become just as irritable, and can become depressed or morose. 

No one type is better than the other. That is not what is commonly believed, however. By both "sides."

That is the illusion - that is the misconception passed along by the media and by those with power over others. In fact, many times those with power over others are extroverts. Their extroverted nature naturally predisposes them to rise in popularity and they often find favor in the eyes of those who are looking to promote from within.  And many extroverts, unfortunately, see introverted people as a threat.  Introverted people see the impulsive nature of the extrovert as a dangerous thing, and want to put on the brakes when they see things starting to spiral out of control. In typical reactionary style, they see the extrovert as the threat.

There are many reasons for this. 

An introverted person's tendency to think, to ponder detail, to look at all sides, and to be cautious can be seen by extroverts as being "a wet blanket." His need for quiet time can be seen as being a "party pooper." His reticence to speak up at meetings (a common thing among introverts) can be mistaken for a lack of interest or involvement. 

An extroverted person's tendency to speak out with new ideas - to "think out loud" so to speak, can be seen by an introverted person as brash and controlling. The introvert can view the extrovert's constant socializing as scatterbrained or even lazy in a "grasshopper versus ant" way. 

Each group considers itself to be "In" and the other group "Out" - we versus they, dividing walls getting thicker and thicker. Bullying is common between the two groups. So is manipulation. 

It's so sad. So unnecessary. So junior high school.

In actual fact, the conversation that the extrovert has with himself out loud when facing a decision is the same conversation that the introvert has within himself. It's just that the introvert prefers to be right the first time he dares open his mouth, not wanting to appear "dumb." The extrovert sees that hesitancy as 'not being a team player' and often jumps to another topic - or gets obvious and repeatedly asks for a response - when there's no feedback (extroverts LOVE feedback. Instant and continuous feedback.) Introverts usually don't give feedback until they've processed the entire ball of wax, and many times their reaction is better "felt" than "telt." In other words, a statement or an idea can impact an introvert deeply without a word being spoken in response. It doesn't mean that the introvert is any less affected by it. He's just pondering the implications.

The extrovert, on the other hand, likes to 'bounce ideas' off others and in so doing, help to clarify his thinking; it never crosses his mind that the first thing out of his mouth is going to be the final result. Introverts see that as insincere and shallow. But it isn't. It's just the way extroverts process the world around them. It's just different. Not worse, not superior. Not inferior. Different. An extrovert's mentality is that if he likes something, then everyone likes it. So when he says, "Come on, it'll be fun," he really means it will be fun for him, and since everyone is just like him, everyone will think it's fun. He can't understand why it wouldn't be. So to an introvert, his encouragements to engage in whatever activity it is, appear to be just so much bullying (- and, don't get me wrong, when it turns into insistence in spite of protests, it IS bullying -) when usually what is the case is that it's a way for him to share his excitement and enthusiasm. 

I lived with an extreme extrovert for nearly 21 years. She was the only extrovert in our household, and I can say from experience that she felt insecure, out of place, unaccepted, and "strange" or "defective" in our house just as much as an introvert raised by extroverts would feel. But there was nothing strange or defective about her. She was just different. We came to appreciate her energy, her zest for life, her zany antics when things just got "too quiet." And she in turn came to appreciate our steadiness, our depth of feeling, and our analytical abilities when she faced a decision she really didn't know how to work through on her own. 

And there is one more thing that I must mention. Just because a person is an extrovert or an introvert doesn't mean that he or she doesn't have some of the qualities of the opposite at the exact same time. People are incredibly complex beings, and no two personalities are exactly alike. People are who they are ... and that's a good thing. It means endless variety, endless challenge, endless adventure to life. To dismiss one or the other or say that it is wrong or somehow defective or sick, is to deny one of the most important things we humans value about our humanity: individuality. If everyone were the same, it would be an unbelievably boring existence, wouldn't it?

How about putting aside excluding or judging others on the basis of our differences and leaving it "Out" of the picture, where it belongs??  How about adopting the idea that we're ALL, every one of us, in the "In" group - - all of us, no exclusions?? How about that?? 

Because after all, we're all "In" this together....

Plugged in and turned off. Or on.

My daughter's iPhone 4S took a hissy fit yesterday after almost three years of faithful service. The decline happened slowly. It kept less and less of a charge over time. Finally, she had to recharge it four times a day (or keep it plugged in), and there were other difficulties that made it kind of 'high maintenance' for her. But she loved her iPhone so much that when Apple went to a more bells-and-whistles and a less reliable-and-dependable iPhone a couple of years ago, she refused to upgrade. 

"It's my baby," she said. She didn't even upgrade the operating system on it. (I envied her after I made my software upgrade - but there was no going back; the deed was done). 

So she took it in to the dealer to avail herself of the extended warranty. After two to three hours of frustrating back-and-forth, the answer came in. Water damage from humidity (last time she dropped it, it was into a snowbank and was 2 years ago, and she got it out right away and dried it off before water could enter). Water damage. One of only two things the warranty didn't cover. 

Ouch. 

But - she needed a phone - and since Steve Jobs passed away, it appears that Apple hasn't come up with anything that even remotely compares to the 4 and 4S. So-o, she switched to a different (Android-type) phone. Some things she likes better, and she knows that she will eventually like this phone as much as the other one; others, she sits and pouts and says, "I miss my baby." 

I get that. 

But I also get when it is time to say goodbye. In electronics and with people.

When the other party needs constant recharging, constant checking, constant stroking, constant reassurances that things are okay - and punishes you when put on "standby" even for a short time ... perhaps it's not all that healthy. It's plugged in all the time - but that means you're tied down. And turned off. When only ONE person is being "fed" in a relationship, it's time to seriously take stock.

Not that relationships are anything like cell phones ... are they? Okay, SOME similarities. 

It's difficult. It's hard to let go of something that - for a while - has brought you some happiness. Even if that happiness was mixed with pain. When there is a growing sense of obligation rather than appreciation, it's time to re-evaluate. When you're constantly feeling "less than" (in other words, less important than) the other person - how is that healthy? 

Image "Low Battery" provided by
David Castillo Dominici at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Perhaps it's time to recharge your OWN battery. Perhaps that caring for that other person has kept you running on empty and it's time to take some time for yourself. You can't give away what you don't have; replenish the reserves. Getting your identity and strength from another human (who has limitations just like you) drains you in ways that you may not realize. Finding out who you are and feeding that person inside (getting plugged in and turned on) will go a long way toward figuring out where that other person fits into your life. If at all. 

Unplugging the other person from your battery might seem cruel, selfish, and un-giving - but until he or she finds out how to self-charge, that draining will keep on happening (if not with you then with the next person who pays attention). Plugging into your own energy resources will feel awkward at first - it always does - but you are the only you that you have, and it's important to look after you.

It's amazing how freeing that is. It might not feel like it at first, but there is an energy build-up that slowly makes itself known - and upon which you can rely.

I know because I've lived that. I've had to remove people from my life who were sapping me of strength. Sometimes I miss those people - but I don't miss the feeling of being constantly given the message "Low Battery." 

Food for thought, at the very least.

Games people play

It never ceases to amaze me how people can be incredibly caring, sweet, wonderful and generous ... until they aren't. 

A few things I've learned about people in the last five and a half years that I've been in "recovery" have set me back on my heels. These are things that either I didn't know or that I didn't want to know. 

One thing is sure. People will surprise you. You think you have them pegged and then they do something completely unexpected. Like when my co-workers opened their hearts to me after my youngest daughter died suddenly last October. I never expected that - and the caring continues to this day! 

However, I have learned - sadly, the hard way - that no matter who it is, people (because they - er, we - are human!) will inevitably disappoint anyone who depends on them / us. We aren't perfect, and if we try to give that impression, well, let's just say the fall from the pedestal is quite steep. And it seems that the higher the pedestal we think we're on, the more it hurts when (not if) we fall from it. I've learned that it's better not to think of myself as better than anyone else, and it's made me avoid anyone who thinks that way too, for whatever reason (education, position, etc.)

So, for better or worse, I've developed some personal guidelines to help me navigate the world of interpersonal relationships - which can sometimes be a mine-field, especially if there are relationships where one person is in a position of power and the other one isn't. So, in no particular order, here are a few of my own personal guard-rails:

1. I have boundaries. These pertain to my personal space, to my emotional space, and to my spiritual space. I have the right to occupy a place in the world, and to feed my soul with what nourishes me inside. If someone infringes on that right, or takes advantage of my generosity, I have the right to be angry and also to say, "This is not okay." It doesn't matter whether that person believes himself or herself to have the right to demand my respect; if the person has hurt me, it is okay for me to say that he or she has hurt me. 
2. I have the right to make my own decisions and my own mistakes, and the responsibility to learn from them.
3. I have the right to feel what I feel. This means that nobody has the right to tell me that I don't feel something or that I shouldn't feel something. 
4. Other people have boundaries. It is not okay for me to try to fix anyone, even if that person asks me to do it. It is not my place to tell someone else how to live their life, run their marriage or raise their kids.
5. Other people have the right to make their own decisions and their own mistakes, and they (not I) must bear the consequences of their own actions.
6. Other people have the right to feel what they feel too. Just because I might be uncomfortable with it, or I wouldn't react in the same way, doesn't give me the right to dismiss - or to judge - what another's experience might be.
7. If anyone - including me - is in a relationship where he or she feels consistently shamed or bullied or "less than", it is not only okay ... it is IMPERATIVE ... to walk away. NOBODY deserves to be treated that way. Staying in a relationship like that only encourages the abuser to continue abusing.

If this post has helped anyone identify an area where there are boundary issues or relationship inequalities that are taking place, and then figure out what it is that they need to do to take care of themselves, then I have achieved my purpose in writing it.

Reviving an old tradition

There are many things about my childhood I would just as soon forget; I've talked about those memories from time to time, and I won't talk about them in this post. 

There was one tradition I observed when I was growing up, however, that has stayed with me all of my life. I'm not even sure if it's still done anymore in the area in which I grew up, but it was so meaningful that it stayed with me.

Two days a year, Mother's Day and Father's Day, people wore a carnation boutonniere or corsage to church so as to "honor" their parents. If the parent was still living, the flower would be red; if not, it would be white. I remember my parents kept a collection of plastic corsages in the top drawer between the fridge and the sink, right beside the tea towels. Every year, they'd dust them off and each person would be given a flower of the appropriate color to wear on either the second Sunday of May or the third Sunday of June. 

They used plastic flowers, because it was too expensive to use real ones.

When I married and moved to my husband's province, the locals had never heard of this custom. They thought it rather sweet, but strange as well. 

I did it anyway. 

Several years ago, the church we attended started handing out carnations to all the mothers in the church on Mother's Day. It was May 1989, and I was pregnant with our first child. Since our denomination believes that life begins at conception, I stood in line to get a flower. "No," I was told. "You're not a mother." 

Hurt and bewildered, I found my seat again. I never forgot the sting of that remark; even though I have forgiven it, and even forget who said it, the experience made me resolve never to treat a first-time pregnant mom like that ... ever.  

But I digress. As the church handed out the flowers to moms anyway, I got away from wearing a flower on that Sunday morning and instead, I made a corsage out of the one I was given at the morning service to wear that evening. 

Nowadays, for various reasons, Mother's Day is very painful for me, but I thought I could at least remember my dad. And since my kids don't go to church - for their own reasons - I thought I would honor their father as well, because - well - he's an awesome dad!

They have that in common, in different ways, but they also share a love of woodworking and especially of music. My dad sang bass (yes, I know the song) - and such a full, rich voice he had - and my husband sings baritone, almost the same thing but not quite. 

So tomorrow morning, and possibly tomorrow evening, I plan to wear a little something to commemorate my own father and my children's father. For posterity though, I thought I'd stage a symbolic photo as an extra tribute :

A lapel corsage
Two tiny roses - white (for Dad) and red (for Hubby)
surrounded by baby's breath (for purity of heart)
and rose leaves (for persevering love)
and sitting squarely on Middle C.

Happy Father's Day ... to both of you. 

Reflections from 3 am

It's amazing how the barriers come down when you're tired.

Last night I couldn't sleep - the reason isn't important right now - and I got into a conversation with another insomniac. I was upset about a few things and this person listened to me and calmed me down enough for me to be able to sleep - mind you, it was 3 am before my head hit the pillow and some time after that - perhaps 3:30 - before I dropped off. 

And - I was awake again this morning at 6:30, exhausted, with a brain fog that would put London, England to shame. But once I'm up, I'm up. (Maybe tonight I'll toddle off before 10:30.)

One of the things we talked about last night was how my whole attitude on life and on relationships has changed in the last 4 years. This lifestyle has become "the new normal" (in itself a miracle!) - but once in a while, it's useful (and encouraging) for me to look back and remember what I was like back then. And it's also a great check-up for me to see if there is any slippage back into old attitudes. 

And I must admit, there has been some. Without going into a lot of detail, life hasn't been a feather-bed for me in the last few months. There are a lot of stresses on me from various areas, and one of the most stressful has been the area of my relationships. I've discovered that it's easy for me to feel responsible for others' choices when I don't need to, especially when those others try to put the blame on me for not doing things that are their responsibility to do. The old me would have shouldered that and borne it, not said a word, and taken up the slack just to "keep peace" - but more and more I am realizing that boundaries are important to establish and to maintain. That forgiveness is given but trust is earned. And that - hardest of all to discover - love can be slowly poisoned and murdered if one is mistreated long enough. 

"Tightrope Walker" illustration courtesy of chanpipat at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

It's also easy to be ready to do anything, say anything that will influence the other person's outcome. (This ALWAYS backfires; I don't know why I have to keep learning this!) 

"Tough love" is toughest on the one exercising it. 

Knowing where the line is between caring and meddling, between concern and enabling, between love and being a doormat ... and between letting go and writing someone off ... this is quite possibly the hardest line I've ever had to walk ... and where the line is, keeps changing on a daily basis. 

It's not easy. In fact, at times it's downright painful, and often people around me don't seem to understand why I need to keep working at it - if it's so difficult.  However, the possibility of regaining my sanity and maybe even seeing the pain lessen ... is a great motivator. 

I've been in the place of obsessional control-freaking, freaking in general, and the doormat mentality (all the while growing resentments in some kind of resentment-hothouse.) In fact, I spent most of my life there, and it nearly ruined my marriage ... and made my kids shut me out.  No way do I want to go back to any kind of behavior that remotely resembles that kind of dysfunction. 

I am learning that I do have the right to have feelings, that I do have the right to say what they are, and that I do have the right to have a life of my own, enjoy my free time and my own possessions, and choose to share them if I so wish; I am not obligated. I also have the right to expect others to respect my boundaries, but I must make them clear, or there WILL be misunderstandings, guaranteed. 

I am learning that in relationships, problems arise if all of the compromises are made by only one person, that there needs to be effort from both parties ... or nothing works right. If it's not working right, I can look at my own part in what went wrong, but I need not take responsibility for the actions of the other party. 

These are basic truths I am only beginning to learn in practice. 

And I need lots. And lots. Of practice.

Respect - Right and Reward

Respect. 

Everyone wants it. Not everyone gets it. And ... sad to say, not everyone knows how to give it. 

"Find out what it means to me," go the lyrics of R-E-S-P-E-C-T sung by Aretha Franklin. 

Find out indeed. 

There have been some frank discussions in our household over the years about respect. Some believe it's their right; others believe it must be earned. Who is right? Who is wrong? 

Both beliefs, I'd venture to say, have a little truth to them.

Respect - the Right
Every human being has the right to be treated with respect. This is a basic, "do no harm" respect that recognizes that no matter who the person is, how much money they make or don't make, where they live or don't live, what their skin color, race, religion, or sexual orientation, regardless of how others feel about any of those things, this individual has the right to have an opinion, be heard, and not be mistreated. 

It's easy to treat someone with respect when he or she agrees with you. However, let that person espouse a belief (be it religious, political, sports-related, lifestyle-related or whatever) that is diametrically opposed to yours, and what happens? That's a gauge of how much fundamental respect is there. 

This kind of respect comes into play in everything from the way you treat your boss to the way you treat the person in front of you in the grocery store checkout line, from the way you treat your employees to the way you treat the person who serves you coffee at your favorite coffee shop. Courtesy, respect, and acceptance are some of the foundational rules of engagement for any relationship - no matter how superficial ... or how close ... it happens to be. 

This kind of respect can best be understood by thinking of property lines in the suburbs. Everyone in the suburbs lives on a certain parcel of land - usually 80 x 100 or 100 x 150 feet. People's property lines abut against each other. If you are respectful of property lines, you wouldn't (at least I HOPE you wouldn't!!) dream of walking your dog and cutting across my property as a short-cut to get where you want to go ... not unless you'd cleared it with me in advance and agreed to pick up your dog's mess along the way. That's showing respect. 

It's the same with personal boundaries. Everyone (within the bounds of legality) has the right to his or her own choices, opinions, and actions - as long as those do not infringe on the right of others to have their own choices, opinions and actions. 

And that means that those same people have the right to bear the consequences of those choices, opinions, and actions: not those of others, but those that they themselves choose, think, and do. 

That's basic respect. Everyone needs it and everyone has the right to expect it.

Respect - the reward
One thing and one thing only can erode and destroy respect. 

It is a lack of trust.

If someone has proven - through consistent action - that he or she cannot be trusted, then trust must be earned back before those people (who were lied to or deceived in some way by this person) will be able to respect and accept what he or she says. 

Honesty is oxygen for trust and for respect. If it is lacking in someone, trust and respect for that person will become weak - and eventually die. 

For many years, while my husband was in active alcoholism, lies were a way of life for him. Over the years, my trust in him, in what he said to me, wore away, got weak, and died. It got so I mistrusted everything he said to me, not just about "not drinking" but also about so many other things. I was suspicious of everything - literally everything - that he said to me. Especially when he told me he loved me. It was a horrible time for me ... AND for him. 

I often thought about leaving the relationship, it was so unlivable. It didn't mean that I didn't love him; I did. It was just that I couldn't stand the constant lying. The lying - to me - was way worse than the alcoholism itself (even though that was awful enough!) 

When he first got into recovery, (as did I - from trying to control and manipulate people or let them walk all over me - never a happy medium!) he embraced a new way of living which demanded rigorous honesty.

Although I really hoped that he would be able to stop lying, I was skeptical. I didn't know if he could. I was never sure that he was telling me the truth. For months, he patiently went about proving to me that what he was saying to me was true... even to the point of showing me receipts for items he'd purchased, allowing me access to see his bank account and credit card usage, and keeping a breathalyzer in the car. He kept on keeping on, in spite of my disbelief. He gave me permission to "call" him on areas where I knew he wasn't being completely honest ... which I did at times. When I did, he was fairly quick to recognize the error, or explain in more detail what he meant, so as to clear up any misunderstanding.  And during that whole time (and ever since) he did what he had to do in his own private recovery journey, so as 0to develop and maintain his spiritual condition. 

"Serpentine Pathway Stones On A Park Lawn" courtesy of arturo at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

The process took months - about 15 months to be more precise. As he proved himself in one instance, it was like a paving stone in a walkway of trust. Every paving stone increased the strength of that trust. Respect was the reward for all those little stones - my respect for him. 

I'm  happy to say that - although it took many months of consistent honesty on his part - I did indeed learn to trust him again, and with that trust came the respect I had lost. I am so glad to have it back - and so is he!

Occasionally someone in my life will destroy the trust and respect I've come to have for him or her. Though the relationship might be a different one, and have different rules, the process of rebuilding that trust and respect is the same. And, the key to building that back - the lesson I learned vicariously through my husband's experience - is that it takes a lifestyle change and consistency in behavior and in intention before such a precious commodity can be restored. 

Basically put, it takes more than words. It takes attitudes and actions over time. Sometimes a long time. 

When I have broken someone's trust, and I have on occasion, it takes a lot of time and effort to gain a hearing with that person. Often, it's frustrating to know you are telling the truth and you still are not believed.

I keep the following things in mind when I know my motives to be pure.

• Gaining the respect of others is absolutely impossible without self-respect.
• Seeking the respect or approval of others can be a trap because it can lead to chameleon-like behaviors, changing who I am to fit in, and therefore a loss of identity. 
• The more comfortable I am inside my own skin, the less it matters what someone else thinks of me. 

One thing is certain: it takes far less time to destroy trust-based respect than it does to rebuild it.  This one fact is one of the reasons why, in my own life, I seek to be scrupulously honest and trustworthy. 

I can't afford not to be. 

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.