So, I was on Twitter this morning, and I suddenly had this FEAR that I had missed my blogging anniversary. I knew I had started in mid-February last year, and I thought it was around the 12th.
Well, it was. AROUND the 12th. Fortunately, it was the 15th. [Here is my opening post... ]
So today, then, is the last day of the first year of my blog. The first of perhaps MANY years, I can hope...
But WOW! What an amazing first year! What an incredible, incredible first year!
I don't even know where to begin in my recap...
But one of the reasons for this blog was because I'm real cheap, and this was free therapy. So thanks, guys! ;)
No, but seriously, at the time I started this blog, I was deep in grief over two lost relationships, and I was feeling incredibly lonely in a small town where I was trying to dig roots, in a job that ultimately I felt both overwhelmed and bored with. I had lost my best friend, and was feeling a deep need to find someone to tell all the random thoughts and silly things (and perhaps profound?) that were screaming through my head.
So, I thought the whole world was a suitable audience to share everything with...
But I had no readers except my good friend Robin Sparkles (thank you, Robin!) and apparently I wasn't the type who liked to talk just to hear my own voice. Apparently, I'm so selfish and self-centered I actually want OTHERS to hear me too....
And I had decided to give it a whirl because I enjoyed hearing The Bloggess' voice and thought I can do that! So after twenty-five blog posts, and hoping that meant I was going to stick with this, I called her out. At the time, on her blog, there was an incident that she has asked us to no longer name with an actor whose first memorable role was as the second Joey in One Life To Live, and I encouraged her to share a picture with me as she might have wanted one who shall not be named to send a picture to her of him.
So, to get her attention, I did an evil thing. Something that from high above in my lofty cloud I thought was much too far beneath me. Something I never thought I would do.
That's right. I joined Twitter.
WOW!
And The Bloggess - bless her heart - was my VERY FIRST FOLLOWER!!!
At some point along the way, I found Kit. And I believe I found her through Jenny. And I found her posts - particularly her posts about sex - to be really funny and amusing. I liked her voice too. And I'd like to say she was my second follower.. but I'm not sure... Either way, with #wineparty, she opened up a whole new world to me.
A world of 30-40-something Mommy bloggers. (Primarily)
You guys are great. Considering I am most definitely NOT a Mommy...
And I have a Sci-Fi name that should turn you off. And it took some of you awhile to realize I wasn't a guy hitting on and flirting with women, but, um, a dyke. But you enjoyed it and flirted back.
And one particular chickie - who played a little hard to get at first - flirted back and foolishly fell in love with me. ;)
WOW!
And slowly, but surely, I've built up a following. I have a steady readership of about 20 readers... ;) and I have had over twelve thousand hits. I have a strong Balkan following.
The CANADIANS have been quite impressive fans. They are so polite. They'll apologize when YOU fart. I love the Canadians... And so... today is as good a day as any to make the official announcement that, well, I'm moving to Canada.
'Cuz, as I've already mentioned, there's this particular chickie.. and well.. she's a CANADIAN chick.. go figure... We're not entirely sure she likes me and that she isn't just being polite to me, "Oh sure..." but we're gonna run with it anyway. ;)
(Actually, no, we're QUITE sure she likes me, very much... and if I left that sentence alone, particularly after her sweet Valentine's eve series of love notes, I'd be in trouble... and that's no way to start a life together... )
Goodbye small town. Goodbye single. Goodbye soccer coach. Goodbye America. Goodbye job. Goodbye church...
Woah.. what's going to be left of me when I go?
All the essential parts of me will still be here.
I have enjoyed very much living in a small town, but I didn't particularly choose this place. They have been good to me. Very good to me! I have really enjoyed coaching soccer, but I have no inherent skills or even love for the sport. I enjoyed the girls - they were great! Can't say I enjoyed being single, but I can say that I got out of it what I needed, and I have most definitely let go of my past relationships and am ready for this new one I'm already in (so it's, um, a good thing, eh?) America? Well... you're hard to ignore. And I'll be living in a border town (okay, border megaopolis), so I have a feeling I won't miss you too much. Job? Pfft... well... it has always been a gap-filler. And it and the church, and the soccer have all sort of helped me get a firmer understanding of what I enjoy doing, and in a larger city, I will have a better opportunity to find something that fits those things.
What a year! I mean, really, what a year! One thing which has NOT changed, though, over this past year. And that is being and knowing that I am very, very blessed.
Who knows what themes will emerge with this blog in the next year? Change will probably be one of them. I'm going to try and stuff my life into five duffel bags and stuff them and my bike into my car and start over. I've always always always wanted to have such little stuff in my life that I could stuff it all in a car and go. I have a couple of weeks to pare things down to see if I can do it. If I manage it, that's another WOW! I am looking forward to trying.
Alright - a few other topics are creeping into my head to write about, but it is clear to me that they are separate posts.
But I wanted to say WOW! and THANK YOU! for an INCREDIBLE year. INCREDIBLE!
Who knew when I started this that this is where it would lead? But I am so grateful it has!
I am blessed.
Showing posts with label community. Show all posts
Showing posts with label community. Show all posts
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Saturday, February 9, 2013
What AM I waiting for?
Waking this morning to find heart-breaking tweets from my love, I can't help but be asking this question. It isn't like it's the first time in the last week that I've asked the question. Ever since my passport arrived last Saturday while she was still here, we've been - or I've been - asking the question.
There are three or four "hooks", I guess, that keep me from taking off immediately, and even then, their ability to hold me here keeps loosening.
The first hook we talked about when we first became romantic was the one that provided us the structure of the laughable idea of a two-year plan. My commitment to my church. But I have quickly grown to realize that these people truly care for me, and what they would want most for me is to be happy. And the new guy we have in as priest is doing a good job getting himself settled in and taking ownership. They don't need me like they might have needed me if he hadn't done this as he should. When we were dealing with supply priests - a priest who was just filling in as a supply for our need - then we were the ones still responsible for running the church. That just doesn't apply any more. Thank goodness!
So while I will feel some guilt and some loss at letting go of this fine community that helped me sail through my healing and recovery process, I know, nonetheless, that when I'm ready to say "goodbye", they'll be okay. That is a hook that I can gently release.
The second hook is actually two fold - just cleaning up and packing to go and leaving nothing behind. I have accumulated some junk - none of which I am attached to to keep other than if I am living here. Furniture, basically. And I've just accumulated a lot of paperwork that is unnecessary to keep - stuff that I couldn't throw out because I *MIGHT* need it. As well as the general paraphernalia for running a household. Like a fridge. Or lawnmower. I need to clean these out of the house, apparently, before I were to move. And to pack up what remains reasonably enough to fit in my car. This is somewhat easy, although, I don't want to call Salvation Army to pick up my bed until the car itself is packed and ready to go... I kinda enjoy having some place to sleep other than the floor...
The second "fold" of this is that I did manage to rescue some stuff from California when I left. And it has all been sitting in a storage unit about 300-400 miles away near where my folks' live. Surprisingly it is not worth continuing to pay $200+ a month to keep. They have been kind to help me do so, as I have been unable to face the overwhelming monstrosity that is the storage unit, but it is time for it to be cleaned out and stuff to be tossed and sold and given away. I have been ignoring it for three and a half years now, it is time to face it and deal with it - before I move on.
The last hook is an awkward one, frankly. I finally return to work this week after having been gone for nearly three weeks, really, even though she was only here for one of them. I had a parishioner who was dying, and I stayed with him and his family for the last two days of his life, and I had a few of my "old ladies" go in and out of the hospital, and I did have a funeral to help prepare for. The two weeks before my love visited were full, to say the least. So, I get a bit of understandable guff from the guy who owns the place and who was kind enough to hire me over whether I'm still working here or not. On more than one occasion. And so I have to pretend like it's business as usual because it isn't as if I have any clue exactly when I will get everything together to go, and money - particularly for making a move - is a good thing. And I'm a writer for him.. I have several outstanding things I've been working on. Some of which - yes - could be written remotely, but he'd prefer to see my face to know I'm working on it and making progress. I can't exactly leave entirely without finishing what he's been paying me to write. And I'm not exactly sure how and when that will happen.
But I want to pack up my car and go now. Call a friend and ask her to deal with the Salvation Army for the furniture - tell her she has until the end of the month since the rent is paid up. Offer the appliances to the landlord. And go. That's what I want to do now.
But there's an annual meeting for church that I'm running... and then there's those pesky projects that need to be finished and the outstanding storage unit to be dealt with...
I have the passport burning the metaphorical hole in my pocket...
Blah!
There are three or four "hooks", I guess, that keep me from taking off immediately, and even then, their ability to hold me here keeps loosening.
The first hook we talked about when we first became romantic was the one that provided us the structure of the laughable idea of a two-year plan. My commitment to my church. But I have quickly grown to realize that these people truly care for me, and what they would want most for me is to be happy. And the new guy we have in as priest is doing a good job getting himself settled in and taking ownership. They don't need me like they might have needed me if he hadn't done this as he should. When we were dealing with supply priests - a priest who was just filling in as a supply for our need - then we were the ones still responsible for running the church. That just doesn't apply any more. Thank goodness!
So while I will feel some guilt and some loss at letting go of this fine community that helped me sail through my healing and recovery process, I know, nonetheless, that when I'm ready to say "goodbye", they'll be okay. That is a hook that I can gently release.
The second hook is actually two fold - just cleaning up and packing to go and leaving nothing behind. I have accumulated some junk - none of which I am attached to to keep other than if I am living here. Furniture, basically. And I've just accumulated a lot of paperwork that is unnecessary to keep - stuff that I couldn't throw out because I *MIGHT* need it. As well as the general paraphernalia for running a household. Like a fridge. Or lawnmower. I need to clean these out of the house, apparently, before I were to move. And to pack up what remains reasonably enough to fit in my car. This is somewhat easy, although, I don't want to call Salvation Army to pick up my bed until the car itself is packed and ready to go... I kinda enjoy having some place to sleep other than the floor...
The second "fold" of this is that I did manage to rescue some stuff from California when I left. And it has all been sitting in a storage unit about 300-400 miles away near where my folks' live. Surprisingly it is not worth continuing to pay $200+ a month to keep. They have been kind to help me do so, as I have been unable to face the overwhelming monstrosity that is the storage unit, but it is time for it to be cleaned out and stuff to be tossed and sold and given away. I have been ignoring it for three and a half years now, it is time to face it and deal with it - before I move on.
The last hook is an awkward one, frankly. I finally return to work this week after having been gone for nearly three weeks, really, even though she was only here for one of them. I had a parishioner who was dying, and I stayed with him and his family for the last two days of his life, and I had a few of my "old ladies" go in and out of the hospital, and I did have a funeral to help prepare for. The two weeks before my love visited were full, to say the least. So, I get a bit of understandable guff from the guy who owns the place and who was kind enough to hire me over whether I'm still working here or not. On more than one occasion. And so I have to pretend like it's business as usual because it isn't as if I have any clue exactly when I will get everything together to go, and money - particularly for making a move - is a good thing. And I'm a writer for him.. I have several outstanding things I've been working on. Some of which - yes - could be written remotely, but he'd prefer to see my face to know I'm working on it and making progress. I can't exactly leave entirely without finishing what he's been paying me to write. And I'm not exactly sure how and when that will happen.
But I want to pack up my car and go now. Call a friend and ask her to deal with the Salvation Army for the furniture - tell her she has until the end of the month since the rent is paid up. Offer the appliances to the landlord. And go. That's what I want to do now.
But there's an annual meeting for church that I'm running... and then there's those pesky projects that need to be finished and the outstanding storage unit to be dealt with...
I have the passport burning the metaphorical hole in my pocket...
Blah!
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
If Dear Abby had Come Out....
Just reading this morning's Dear Abby, and pondering her advice to one letter writer.
The writer is a happily married woman who has been struggling with her sexuality and has come to realize that she's bisexual. She wants to be able to tell people but isn't certain how to do so. Or even whether to do so.
Abby's suggestion is to stay in the closet, but if she is going to tell anyone, to start with her husband.
A second part of her question, though, is confirming, gosh, if I haven't done anything, but I am physically attracted to women, could I be bisexual? Abby confirms that yes, indeed, she could be.
The writer poses some very interesting questions, and so does Abby's answer.
On the one hand, having witnessed several married women recognize their attractions for women, I would agree with Abby's cautionary advice in that disclosing such a piece of information might stir up unnecessary and unwanted trouble. I respect that caution, but it is also biting on me that the advice, nonetheless, is to hide something she doesn't want to hide anymore. (And not the good kind of biting, either).
If someone were to approach me with this dilemma I would do two things. The first is I'd ask her why she wanted to share and what she hopes to accomplish. To help her understand and clarify why coming out might be important to her. And the second is that I would direct the reader to an online forum a friend of mine found, and a book by its founder about married women awakening to the realization of their attraction to other women. There she will find a community of people who will understand what she is going through and who can advise her better about the risks and the rewards of any next steps she might take. Plus, it might give her a safe forum to express what she's been working on.
I am appreciative of Abby's accepting acknowledgment of this woman's sexuality; but hesitant about her advice and her ability to have the perspective necessary to offer this advice. Not that the only people qualified to give "coming out" advice are those who have come out - but unless you have gone through such awakening yourself, it is harder to understand the potential compulsion to share this aspect of your being with others. There is unquestionably risk involved - particularly given her existing monogamous relationship - and I don't disagree with Abby's caution, entirely. I just think it's more complex than that. (Of course her signature line that she's in the Deep South, certainly does suggest - perhaps unfairly - that she should consider caution!)
What do you think?
The letter and its response are below:
DEAR ABBY: After years of denial I have come to realize that I am bisexual. I'm happily married to a straight man, and we have a great marriage I wouldn't change for the world. He is my soul mate, and we plan to be together for many years to come. I just happen to be physically attracted to women, too.
Some people say I can't be bisexual if I've never been with a woman; I say they're wrong. Am I correct?
How do I deal with this in social situations? I'm afraid to put it on my social media profile for fear of a backlash from my family. I'd like my friends to know, but it doesn't feel proper to just come out and say, "I'm bi."
I was hoping some of your readers might be able to give me some input. How does one "come out" without overdoing it or coming across the wrong way? Is there a right way? Should I continue keeping it a secret?
I'm not sure what to do with my revelation. I have pondered it for some time now, and felt I could trust you to give me tactful, unbiased advice. -- BI IN THE DEEP SOUTH
DEAR B.I.T.D.S.: Bisexuality is having an attraction to people of both sexes, and yes, it is possible to be bisexual without having acted upon it.
However, being married means you are (happily) involved in a monogamous relationship. To announce that you are bisexual and/or put it on the Internet would be a mistake, in my opinion, not only because it would shock your family, but also because it might seem like you were advertising that you are "available." Unless you are promiscuous, you are not available. Most married people agree to be committed to their spouses regardless of whether they are straight, gay or bi.
If you choose to confide your diverse sexual orientation to your close friends, that is your business. But if you do, please remember that once two people know something, there's a strong likelihood of the news spreading faster than the flu.
P.S. If you do decide to divulge, be sure to tell your husband first.
The writer is a happily married woman who has been struggling with her sexuality and has come to realize that she's bisexual. She wants to be able to tell people but isn't certain how to do so. Or even whether to do so.
Abby's suggestion is to stay in the closet, but if she is going to tell anyone, to start with her husband.
A second part of her question, though, is confirming, gosh, if I haven't done anything, but I am physically attracted to women, could I be bisexual? Abby confirms that yes, indeed, she could be.
The writer poses some very interesting questions, and so does Abby's answer.
On the one hand, having witnessed several married women recognize their attractions for women, I would agree with Abby's cautionary advice in that disclosing such a piece of information might stir up unnecessary and unwanted trouble. I respect that caution, but it is also biting on me that the advice, nonetheless, is to hide something she doesn't want to hide anymore. (And not the good kind of biting, either).
If someone were to approach me with this dilemma I would do two things. The first is I'd ask her why she wanted to share and what she hopes to accomplish. To help her understand and clarify why coming out might be important to her. And the second is that I would direct the reader to an online forum a friend of mine found, and a book by its founder about married women awakening to the realization of their attraction to other women. There she will find a community of people who will understand what she is going through and who can advise her better about the risks and the rewards of any next steps she might take. Plus, it might give her a safe forum to express what she's been working on.
I am appreciative of Abby's accepting acknowledgment of this woman's sexuality; but hesitant about her advice and her ability to have the perspective necessary to offer this advice. Not that the only people qualified to give "coming out" advice are those who have come out - but unless you have gone through such awakening yourself, it is harder to understand the potential compulsion to share this aspect of your being with others. There is unquestionably risk involved - particularly given her existing monogamous relationship - and I don't disagree with Abby's caution, entirely. I just think it's more complex than that. (Of course her signature line that she's in the Deep South, certainly does suggest - perhaps unfairly - that she should consider caution!)
What do you think?
The letter and its response are below:
DEAR ABBY: After years of denial I have come to realize that I am bisexual. I'm happily married to a straight man, and we have a great marriage I wouldn't change for the world. He is my soul mate, and we plan to be together for many years to come. I just happen to be physically attracted to women, too.
Some people say I can't be bisexual if I've never been with a woman; I say they're wrong. Am I correct?
How do I deal with this in social situations? I'm afraid to put it on my social media profile for fear of a backlash from my family. I'd like my friends to know, but it doesn't feel proper to just come out and say, "I'm bi."
I was hoping some of your readers might be able to give me some input. How does one "come out" without overdoing it or coming across the wrong way? Is there a right way? Should I continue keeping it a secret?
I'm not sure what to do with my revelation. I have pondered it for some time now, and felt I could trust you to give me tactful, unbiased advice. -- BI IN THE DEEP SOUTH
DEAR B.I.T.D.S.: Bisexuality is having an attraction to people of both sexes, and yes, it is possible to be bisexual without having acted upon it.
However, being married means you are (happily) involved in a monogamous relationship. To announce that you are bisexual and/or put it on the Internet would be a mistake, in my opinion, not only because it would shock your family, but also because it might seem like you were advertising that you are "available." Unless you are promiscuous, you are not available. Most married people agree to be committed to their spouses regardless of whether they are straight, gay or bi.
If you choose to confide your diverse sexual orientation to your close friends, that is your business. But if you do, please remember that once two people know something, there's a strong likelihood of the news spreading faster than the flu.
P.S. If you do decide to divulge, be sure to tell your husband first.
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Blog-Post-On-Demand
Not quite as sexy as an on-demand pay-per-view channel, but, it'll have to do.
Alt title: Oh, yeah, so that's what this feels like...
My paternal grandmother was bipolar - except then, we called it manic-depressive. And so there's always been this underlying awareness that it can run in families, and, well... whenever I have gone into see someone who shrink-wraps, I always am sure to mention this. I've never really thought I was, but I'm not the professional, now am I?
I never really thought I was because while I had the "mania" - attributable also to my ADD - I was never really depressed. I can't say I was always "happy", but for the most part, I think I was relatively well balanced. Until, oh, about, three and a half years ago.
And even then, my depression was understandable. I described it as situational. A certainly understandably depressing situation had most certainly been at the root of it. And that explained the first year. And being alone in a new town.. Well, maybe that explained the second year. But really, by the third year, shouldn't I be freaking done with this depression thing? Yes, I could see subtle improvements. I could look back at the year before and say I was better than I had been. But damn, if this wasn't taking forever.
And I can't say I'm out of the woods yet. I still see lots of trees blocking the sun around me. But I can say in the last month and a half, there has been significant, noticeable, improvement. Periods of excitement and energy and - dare I say it - happiness have been more than just fleeting.
A lot of it, I recognize, centers around the new position at the church. I forget, sometimes, how much I like people. How much I truly enjoy them. And as a result of this new position, I have taken it upon myself to sit down with as many of our members as I can. And I'm loving it. Just loving it. Finding things that people are getting excited about. Pulling out areas where they may thrive within the community. Finding people to support others who took a particular ministry on their own.
My theme, by the way, (even though I don't *need* a theme) is sharing the ministry. And I feel strongly about this, and could get on a roll, and bore you all to death, although keep you mildly entertained by the energy and excitement *I* feel about it. But I'm loving what I'm doing. I'm enjoying seeing seeds I have planted begin to take root. I am excited about the possibilities. I feel like I have found my calling. Maybe not my long-term calling, but a short-term one and I am enjoying it.
Which I haven't done in a long while.
Oh. Yeah.. So this is what happiness feels like. So this is what it's like to enjoy my life, again. There is a light at the end of that tunnel - there is sun beyond those trees. I will emerge. I am emerging. Damn, that sunshine on my face feels good.
P.S. The problem with blog posts on demand is that there is the possibility that I might end up taking your request and using it to write about something only remotely related. I can't help where the spirit takes me... ;) So, my friend, I know I barely touched on what you wanted me to write about. But maybe in another post... ;)
Alt title: Oh, yeah, so that's what this feels like...
My paternal grandmother was bipolar - except then, we called it manic-depressive. And so there's always been this underlying awareness that it can run in families, and, well... whenever I have gone into see someone who shrink-wraps, I always am sure to mention this. I've never really thought I was, but I'm not the professional, now am I?
I never really thought I was because while I had the "mania" - attributable also to my ADD - I was never really depressed. I can't say I was always "happy", but for the most part, I think I was relatively well balanced. Until, oh, about, three and a half years ago.
And even then, my depression was understandable. I described it as situational. A certainly understandably depressing situation had most certainly been at the root of it. And that explained the first year. And being alone in a new town.. Well, maybe that explained the second year. But really, by the third year, shouldn't I be freaking done with this depression thing? Yes, I could see subtle improvements. I could look back at the year before and say I was better than I had been. But damn, if this wasn't taking forever.
And I can't say I'm out of the woods yet. I still see lots of trees blocking the sun around me. But I can say in the last month and a half, there has been significant, noticeable, improvement. Periods of excitement and energy and - dare I say it - happiness have been more than just fleeting.
A lot of it, I recognize, centers around the new position at the church. I forget, sometimes, how much I like people. How much I truly enjoy them. And as a result of this new position, I have taken it upon myself to sit down with as many of our members as I can. And I'm loving it. Just loving it. Finding things that people are getting excited about. Pulling out areas where they may thrive within the community. Finding people to support others who took a particular ministry on their own.
My theme, by the way, (even though I don't *need* a theme) is sharing the ministry. And I feel strongly about this, and could get on a roll, and bore you all to death, although keep you mildly entertained by the energy and excitement *I* feel about it. But I'm loving what I'm doing. I'm enjoying seeing seeds I have planted begin to take root. I am excited about the possibilities. I feel like I have found my calling. Maybe not my long-term calling, but a short-term one and I am enjoying it.
Which I haven't done in a long while.
Oh. Yeah.. So this is what happiness feels like. So this is what it's like to enjoy my life, again. There is a light at the end of that tunnel - there is sun beyond those trees. I will emerge. I am emerging. Damn, that sunshine on my face feels good.
P.S. The problem with blog posts on demand is that there is the possibility that I might end up taking your request and using it to write about something only remotely related. I can't help where the spirit takes me... ;) So, my friend, I know I barely touched on what you wanted me to write about. But maybe in another post... ;)
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Kicking it Around...
So, I had to make a difficult decision recently. For the most part, I know I made the right decision, and I feel relief. But at the same time, I am already feeling like a little puppy with my nose to the glass and wanting back inside.
Being active in my community has been one of the ways in which I have strived to increase my social opportunities in town. I'm not sure whether either of the things I volunteer for actually do much for me socially, but at least they provide me something to do.
I have mentioned before that I'm active in my church. I prepare the church bulletins, and have been the overall administrator of much of the day-to-day minutiae. This past month, the members of my church (foolishly) elected me to be the lay leader of the church - the head of our governing board. I've been hinting here and there about it, primarily on Twitter, and telling a few individuals about it, but mostly letting it sink in before sharing it.
I am honored, certainly, by the confidence they have in me to do this - although I do also respect and understand that a part of it was that no-one else was foolish enough to take it on. But the last month or so I have gotten excited, and enthusiastic, and been brainstorming and inspired and all sorts of good things. Really good things. We're going through a transition, and there's a lot to be done. I've already been meeting with lots of folks in the church and getting an idea what makes them love our church, and where they feel a passion and a calling. All good stuff.
I have also been more than just a soccer coach. For the last two years, I've served on the Rec league's board. Mostly I did it so they wouldn't forget me when it came time to recruit coaches since I had been an assistant coach for my best friend's daughter's team, and I don't have any kids myself. But I really enjoyed it. Our board is under "staffed" and so each board member took on several roles. So, in addition to coaching, I ran the concessions stand, helped with the candy drive, and was director for a league.
This season was a bit overwhelming. And I was grumpy for reasons outside of soccer, and finding myself constantly pulled away from being able to coach my kids. Which was the fun part. So, near the end of the season - technically before I even knew about the church responsibility - I was considering taking a break. I was feeling burned out, and I wanted to just coach. With the new church responsibility, I had a good excuse I could use to gracefully back out for a couple of years (or longer, we'll see....) from the soccer responsibility.
Tonight was our soccer "banquet" for coaches, refs, team parents, board members, etc. And our elections for the following year's board. The board is light, and I felt a pang to want to help out - there were almost as many empty slots as there were people who filled them in - seven people and five remaining open slots. I did resist, and for the most part, I am glad I did. But I have enjoyed being a part of the team, and a part of me will miss that. They know I'm available to help, but they also know many others who have offered to be available not really follow through to be there, and once I'm no longer obligated to get up at 9 AM on a cold winter Saturday morning to winterize the field, I'm less likely to do it.
So, tonight is bittersweet. A bit of relief, a bit of sadness. One woman offered (unsolicited) about what a wonderful coach I was and how much her daughter had enjoyed having me as coach. Those accolades are always nice. So I'll stick to the good things, and let go of the less pleasant things, and we'll go from there.
Being active in my community has been one of the ways in which I have strived to increase my social opportunities in town. I'm not sure whether either of the things I volunteer for actually do much for me socially, but at least they provide me something to do.
I have mentioned before that I'm active in my church. I prepare the church bulletins, and have been the overall administrator of much of the day-to-day minutiae. This past month, the members of my church (foolishly) elected me to be the lay leader of the church - the head of our governing board. I've been hinting here and there about it, primarily on Twitter, and telling a few individuals about it, but mostly letting it sink in before sharing it.
I am honored, certainly, by the confidence they have in me to do this - although I do also respect and understand that a part of it was that no-one else was foolish enough to take it on. But the last month or so I have gotten excited, and enthusiastic, and been brainstorming and inspired and all sorts of good things. Really good things. We're going through a transition, and there's a lot to be done. I've already been meeting with lots of folks in the church and getting an idea what makes them love our church, and where they feel a passion and a calling. All good stuff.
I have also been more than just a soccer coach. For the last two years, I've served on the Rec league's board. Mostly I did it so they wouldn't forget me when it came time to recruit coaches since I had been an assistant coach for my best friend's daughter's team, and I don't have any kids myself. But I really enjoyed it. Our board is under "staffed" and so each board member took on several roles. So, in addition to coaching, I ran the concessions stand, helped with the candy drive, and was director for a league.
This season was a bit overwhelming. And I was grumpy for reasons outside of soccer, and finding myself constantly pulled away from being able to coach my kids. Which was the fun part. So, near the end of the season - technically before I even knew about the church responsibility - I was considering taking a break. I was feeling burned out, and I wanted to just coach. With the new church responsibility, I had a good excuse I could use to gracefully back out for a couple of years (or longer, we'll see....) from the soccer responsibility.
Tonight was our soccer "banquet" for coaches, refs, team parents, board members, etc. And our elections for the following year's board. The board is light, and I felt a pang to want to help out - there were almost as many empty slots as there were people who filled them in - seven people and five remaining open slots. I did resist, and for the most part, I am glad I did. But I have enjoyed being a part of the team, and a part of me will miss that. They know I'm available to help, but they also know many others who have offered to be available not really follow through to be there, and once I'm no longer obligated to get up at 9 AM on a cold winter Saturday morning to winterize the field, I'm less likely to do it.
So, tonight is bittersweet. A bit of relief, a bit of sadness. One woman offered (unsolicited) about what a wonderful coach I was and how much her daughter had enjoyed having me as coach. Those accolades are always nice. So I'll stick to the good things, and let go of the less pleasant things, and we'll go from there.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
The next post...
.. so after I wrote the short post on Answers, I started another post called "I'm a bitch". It is true. Sometimes I can be...
It was a post, apparently, though in gestation, not quite ready yet to be born.
I'm not sure it is, yet, but I'll let my fingers give it a try, and if you're reading this, well, then, I guess I thought it was "good enough". Hee hee...
Ever have a disagreement or a grumble with someone close to you - in this case, more generally, a friend - and just want to say "Fuck 'em... I'm done"? Or more accurately and comprehensively, "I'm done with people..."?
Yeah. That.
Or, more fun, and probably more accurate, a series of grumbles with a series of people...
... and, that, unfortunately, is when you have to look in the mirror and ask / wonder if it is yourself. If you are, indeed, a bitch.
But let's face it. None of us is perfect. We all have our bitchy moments. And ideally, in our non-bitchy moments, we have shown something to others to suggest that our value is worth overlooking those moments of bitchiness.
There is a fine line between expecting everyone to accept you the way you are, and love you the way you are without having to change and bend yourself into being a pretzel to be accepted and loved, and then using that "People should love me the way I am" as a hammer or a bludgeon to entitle you to act like a bitch.
There was someone I've met in the last six months - virtually - who very much had a huge chip on her shoulder, and basically felt that if someone else was worthy, they'd love them just the way that they were. On the very first day she and I interacted, though, she went postal on me. Then, later, apologized if she offended, and gosh, gees, she was getting her period, and by the way, why are you so sensitive?
I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, and didn't block her after that, although I was tempted and every warning in me said to run. And sure enough, it happened again. I wasn't as invested, and it didn't take me by surprise, and I was better able to stand my own ground and call her on her behavior. "Gees, why are you so sensitive?" and "You attacked me". Um, no, I merely disagreed with what you said. I can do that, ideally, and you should be strong enough? secure enough? to understand that simply because I don't agree with everything you believe doesn't mean I am attacking you....
She was tiring, after a while... (Heck, who am I kidding? She was tiring immediately), and eventually, I moved on and blocked her.
Next.
It is Twitter, after all. There are definitely plenty of fish in the sea.
This was several months ago, and it is easier and safer to talk about her and her behavior to illustrate these general principles than to look inward to see if I, now, am being the bitch.
And I probably am. Now, before you get all supportive and wonderful and tell me how sweet I am below (which, well, go ahead, and do... I won't mind, I guess! ;) ).. you don't have to live with me day-to-day. You don't have to deal with my irrational moments, which feel pretty damn rational to me, damnit. You may see me stick my head in the sand, but as virtual strangers / friends you can just keep on walking and ignore me. Those whom I have lured into the trap of friendship are not as easily able to ignore me.
'Cuz I can whine.
I can be grumpy.
I can be childish.
I can throw a damn good tantrum.
I can get snippish, snappish, snarky, and sarcastic.
I can be mean.
And, when I step back, I know that some of this behavior is no different than when done by a child. I am seeking attention by any means necessary, and since the good attention may not seem to be flowing at the moment, I guess I seek bad attention, too.
Great.
No, I don't take crayons to walls. I haven't done that since I was ten. Besides, none of you have to live within my walls, anyway, so none of you would notice, and it wouldn't get any of that attention.
But I do crave attention. Oh, so much.
Okay. So that isn't news. And I'm not alone. And wait, you want attention, too?
Oh, us humans. We can be so much fun, can't we?
All I want is for you to love me, notice me, care for me, nurture me... be with me... If you must, you can even call me George..
Is that so much to ask?
Yeah, that's what I was afraid of....
... apparently, that might be why I can be a bitch.
P.S. If you're here from the Bloggess, check out my post Welcome Lawsbians to learn a little about my tenuous connection to Jenny! ;)
It was a post, apparently, though in gestation, not quite ready yet to be born.
I'm not sure it is, yet, but I'll let my fingers give it a try, and if you're reading this, well, then, I guess I thought it was "good enough". Hee hee...
Ever have a disagreement or a grumble with someone close to you - in this case, more generally, a friend - and just want to say "Fuck 'em... I'm done"? Or more accurately and comprehensively, "I'm done with people..."?
Yeah. That.
Or, more fun, and probably more accurate, a series of grumbles with a series of people...
... and, that, unfortunately, is when you have to look in the mirror and ask / wonder if it is yourself. If you are, indeed, a bitch.
But let's face it. None of us is perfect. We all have our bitchy moments. And ideally, in our non-bitchy moments, we have shown something to others to suggest that our value is worth overlooking those moments of bitchiness.
There is a fine line between expecting everyone to accept you the way you are, and love you the way you are without having to change and bend yourself into being a pretzel to be accepted and loved, and then using that "People should love me the way I am" as a hammer or a bludgeon to entitle you to act like a bitch.
There was someone I've met in the last six months - virtually - who very much had a huge chip on her shoulder, and basically felt that if someone else was worthy, they'd love them just the way that they were. On the very first day she and I interacted, though, she went postal on me. Then, later, apologized if she offended, and gosh, gees, she was getting her period, and by the way, why are you so sensitive?
I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, and didn't block her after that, although I was tempted and every warning in me said to run. And sure enough, it happened again. I wasn't as invested, and it didn't take me by surprise, and I was better able to stand my own ground and call her on her behavior. "Gees, why are you so sensitive?" and "You attacked me". Um, no, I merely disagreed with what you said. I can do that, ideally, and you should be strong enough? secure enough? to understand that simply because I don't agree with everything you believe doesn't mean I am attacking you....
She was tiring, after a while... (Heck, who am I kidding? She was tiring immediately), and eventually, I moved on and blocked her.
Next.
It is Twitter, after all. There are definitely plenty of fish in the sea.
This was several months ago, and it is easier and safer to talk about her and her behavior to illustrate these general principles than to look inward to see if I, now, am being the bitch.
And I probably am. Now, before you get all supportive and wonderful and tell me how sweet I am below (which, well, go ahead, and do... I won't mind, I guess! ;) ).. you don't have to live with me day-to-day. You don't have to deal with my irrational moments, which feel pretty damn rational to me, damnit. You may see me stick my head in the sand, but as virtual strangers / friends you can just keep on walking and ignore me. Those whom I have lured into the trap of friendship are not as easily able to ignore me.
'Cuz I can whine.
I can be grumpy.
I can be childish.
I can throw a damn good tantrum.
I can get snippish, snappish, snarky, and sarcastic.
I can be mean.
And, when I step back, I know that some of this behavior is no different than when done by a child. I am seeking attention by any means necessary, and since the good attention may not seem to be flowing at the moment, I guess I seek bad attention, too.
Great.
No, I don't take crayons to walls. I haven't done that since I was ten. Besides, none of you have to live within my walls, anyway, so none of you would notice, and it wouldn't get any of that attention.
But I do crave attention. Oh, so much.
Okay. So that isn't news. And I'm not alone. And wait, you want attention, too?
Oh, us humans. We can be so much fun, can't we?
All I want is for you to love me, notice me, care for me, nurture me... be with me... If you must, you can even call me George..
Is that so much to ask?
Yeah, that's what I was afraid of....
... apparently, that might be why I can be a bitch.
P.S. If you're here from the Bloggess, check out my post Welcome Lawsbians to learn a little about my tenuous connection to Jenny! ;)
Friday, September 14, 2012
Today is the first day...
Blah, blah, blah...
Although it's fricking true. Still, blah, blah, blah.
I am at another, shall we say, "transition point" in my life. The part-time contract that was supposed to be somewhat short-term and that I managed to actually stretch out for a full year - much past it's expiration date - is not-so-surprisingly coming to an end.
In the bigger picture, I know this is a good thing.
And I know my friends are stuck providing me all the good trite sayings I would say to them in the same situation. "Today is the first day of the rest of your life", etc., etc.
And I feel their pain. I know that there is NOTHING they could say to me - trite or otherwise - that would necessarily penetrate this bubble of concern that is surrounding me.
Now, I'm not on full blown panic or distress (yet). But I'm not exactly happy, either.
I have several months before full blown panic or distress comes in (not that I won't have my moments, mind you).
One of the problems I have is that some of my contracts are open ended, so it's not always possible to prepare ahead of time for another one, because it's not always clear with the first one is going to end. It took me eight months between the last one and this one to have more than a two or three week gig, and those were eight long months. I made a small amount of savings stretch quite far. I was quite impressed with myself, frankly.
But my savings going into this round, though, are a little less impressive because I had some serious dental bills at the beginning of the year. So I'm nervous.
I try to have faith. God and I are having quite a few conversations lately. He's the strong silent type. He knows anything he might say I'd probably respond "blah, blah, blah" to, much as I have been doing to my friends. But I am trying to have faith that when this door closes, another one will open. Or a window (although it's starting to get chillier...).
I also know job hunting before Christmas is not always easy. I've got an extra month or so jump from prior years when I've found myself in this situation, but I know once mid-November hits, I just have to hold on until January. And I'm hoping it doesn't come to that.
The problem with these transition points, as I so politely call them, is that it also calls into question other "life choices". Now this can be a good examination, or a not-so-good examination. It is good and healthy, as a general rule, to make sure you stop and examine if you are in the place (literally, figuratively, metaphysically) that you want to be in your life, and when certain obligations that have been keeping you in those positions release, to confirm you are where you want to be. Those are good examinations, because if you're going to make big changes in your life, these are good moments to make them.
The trouble is that the flip side of that can be a little bit like Alice's rabbit-hole. And it doesn't take much to slip into full-on crisis and doubt that everything you've done to get yourself to this place and everything that you're doing is wrong. And that you aren't supposed to be here, and .. well... you can already see how the cycle can swirl out of control quite quickly.
And I have spent a considerable amount of this summer beginning to wonder if this is the place I should be. Wondering if despite how much I *do* like small town life, if this isn't still a bit too small for me - or perhaps, at least, not as diverse for me as I might want. Surely there are small towns in the world with larger lesbian populations <*cough* Oregon *cough*>. Of course even those that are nearby seem a little too political for my taste... (picky, picky, picky). But in late June when my landlord told me I might have been better off if the Poltergeist tree had taken out my house, I have been wondering what I would do if it had. Where would I go? Would I stay here?
The problem, then, with grand sayings like "Today is the first day..." is that while it's meant to be optimistic and full of possibilities, is that it is just full of possibilities. And they swirl in front of someone with no direction like a tornado. (And tornadoes are not good around here, because they bring down the BIG ASS TREE onto my house, and well...)
My friends are stuck in a hopeless situation. I want feedback, I want *something* from them in response to my growing fear, and yet, I know, my response to anything they might offer me is "Blah, blah, blah..." I'll have answers to refute any of their good suggestions (not that they won't stick in my craw and gestate even after I refute them) and that I will be quite stubborn and frustrating. Which is why God stays silent. He knows that actions speak louder than words. Right, big guy? *wink* *wink* *nudge* *nudge*
Today is the first day....
Although it's fricking true. Still, blah, blah, blah.
I am at another, shall we say, "transition point" in my life. The part-time contract that was supposed to be somewhat short-term and that I managed to actually stretch out for a full year - much past it's expiration date - is not-so-surprisingly coming to an end.
In the bigger picture, I know this is a good thing.
And I know my friends are stuck providing me all the good trite sayings I would say to them in the same situation. "Today is the first day of the rest of your life", etc., etc.
And I feel their pain. I know that there is NOTHING they could say to me - trite or otherwise - that would necessarily penetrate this bubble of concern that is surrounding me.
Now, I'm not on full blown panic or distress (yet). But I'm not exactly happy, either.
I have several months before full blown panic or distress comes in (not that I won't have my moments, mind you).
One of the problems I have is that some of my contracts are open ended, so it's not always possible to prepare ahead of time for another one, because it's not always clear with the first one is going to end. It took me eight months between the last one and this one to have more than a two or three week gig, and those were eight long months. I made a small amount of savings stretch quite far. I was quite impressed with myself, frankly.
But my savings going into this round, though, are a little less impressive because I had some serious dental bills at the beginning of the year. So I'm nervous.
I try to have faith. God and I are having quite a few conversations lately. He's the strong silent type. He knows anything he might say I'd probably respond "blah, blah, blah" to, much as I have been doing to my friends. But I am trying to have faith that when this door closes, another one will open. Or a window (although it's starting to get chillier...).
I also know job hunting before Christmas is not always easy. I've got an extra month or so jump from prior years when I've found myself in this situation, but I know once mid-November hits, I just have to hold on until January. And I'm hoping it doesn't come to that.
The problem with these transition points, as I so politely call them, is that it also calls into question other "life choices". Now this can be a good examination, or a not-so-good examination. It is good and healthy, as a general rule, to make sure you stop and examine if you are in the place (literally, figuratively, metaphysically) that you want to be in your life, and when certain obligations that have been keeping you in those positions release, to confirm you are where you want to be. Those are good examinations, because if you're going to make big changes in your life, these are good moments to make them.
The trouble is that the flip side of that can be a little bit like Alice's rabbit-hole. And it doesn't take much to slip into full-on crisis and doubt that everything you've done to get yourself to this place and everything that you're doing is wrong. And that you aren't supposed to be here, and .. well... you can already see how the cycle can swirl out of control quite quickly.
And I have spent a considerable amount of this summer beginning to wonder if this is the place I should be. Wondering if despite how much I *do* like small town life, if this isn't still a bit too small for me - or perhaps, at least, not as diverse for me as I might want. Surely there are small towns in the world with larger lesbian populations <*cough* Oregon *cough*>. Of course even those that are nearby seem a little too political for my taste... (picky, picky, picky). But in late June when my landlord told me I might have been better off if the Poltergeist tree had taken out my house, I have been wondering what I would do if it had. Where would I go? Would I stay here?
The problem, then, with grand sayings like "Today is the first day..." is that while it's meant to be optimistic and full of possibilities, is that it is just full of possibilities. And they swirl in front of someone with no direction like a tornado. (And tornadoes are not good around here, because they bring down the BIG ASS TREE onto my house, and well...)
My friends are stuck in a hopeless situation. I want feedback, I want *something* from them in response to my growing fear, and yet, I know, my response to anything they might offer me is "Blah, blah, blah..." I'll have answers to refute any of their good suggestions (not that they won't stick in my craw and gestate even after I refute them) and that I will be quite stubborn and frustrating. Which is why God stays silent. He knows that actions speak louder than words. Right, big guy? *wink* *wink* *nudge* *nudge*
"Do not cling to events of the past or dwell on what happened long ago. Watch for the new thing I am going to do. It is happening already - you can see it now! I will make a road through the wilderness and give you streams of water there." (Isaiah 43)I have carried this in my wallet for three years.
Today is the first day....
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
A rose named Borg...
Original Title (so you can understand the original theme I was writing from):
Rocks, Hard Places, Awkwardness and a Game Called Jenga
I've just had another individual from Twitter politely note, "I just realized I don't know your real name". When I politely ignored that particular comment, she less passively (after politely waiting for one or two more exchanges) directly asked, "So... not gonna tell me your real name?"
There is only one person I've met on Twitter who knows my real name. My full real name. One other person knows my first name. That's it. (So, yes, you two, you should feel REALLY special, but you can do so quietly)
And that is not an easy decision. And by next week, that circle may increase.
The first one who I gave it to had shared some quite intimate details about herself by e-mail earlier in the day, and that evening we were chatting by g-chat, and twenty minutes into the conversation she stated, finally, near the end of the conversation: "You have to tell me your name. I can't call you the borg blog!"
Um, yes you can? And her argument, as go all the arguments I get, is "who am I going to tell?"
If she were to disclose herself (which I am asking her not to), she'd tell you that all she got for a long time was just my first name. In fact, the last name slipped really only because I sent her an e-mail from the wrong account. (Dratted iPhone and human error).
This is not easy for me. I do not like living in closets. I do not like hiding who I am. I have no desire to be the tiny "wizard" hiding behind some great contraption of fire and smoke appearing to be bigger than who I am. I HATE closets (except the big walk-in kinds where I can keep my clothes that I've never actually had the joy of having...).
I have written several blog entries already about anonymity. I don't know if I've tagged them all, but you'll see several of them if you click on the label over there on the right. This is something I've struggled with. And still struggle with.
At some level, in my last anonymity post, I acknowledged that I could not keep my two worlds separate forever. But that each time one side touches the other side, it's like taking out a piece in a game of Jenga. The first pieces are easy, and bring no significant threat to the structure. Really, only the dog wagging its tail will knock it down. As a side note, playing Jenga with a yellow lab puppy, by the way, is very hard to do! But there does come a time where you've taken out so many pieces it makes the structure very precarious, and even the slight vibrations from the plane taking off nearby or the train rumbling by (I've lived both near airports and train tracks) will knock it down while you aren't even looking.
Part of the reason for this blog, I've admitted openly, is as a way for me to heal from the loss of some important people in my life. People I've loved dearly. People I still love dearly. While really I am writing in here only about me, I'm not. And I live in a small enough town that you would know who (crap, what was the name I gave him, oh, yeah) Tom was, and you'd know who tulip girl was, and you'd know who a lot of people were if you knew who I was. And while Robin Sparkles doesn't live here in town, and is an old friend from college, it wouldn't necessarily take long to identify her. (It is true, though, that I don't feel a compelling need to protect Tom, but I also don't need someone telling him I'm writing about him and have him track down this blog, either! *smile!*)
And the reality is that one of my points from the beginning, and I still maintain today, is that we all could be you. Or someone you know just down the street. Who we are - name wise - is unimportant to understanding and enjoying (I hope) our story. And maybe you can take insight you learn from reading here to apply to that person down the street whom I remind you of. That reading about my struggles and my successes and reading my thoughts and ramblings might just help bring us all together as one loving society and community (Okay, there's that big ass guy full of smoke and mirrors, but....). That knowing who I am as an individual shouldn't affect your ability to relate to what I'm writing.
But last week, it got even more complicated and troublesome keeping these worlds separate. Because last week my tweeps did something that a lot of people in my real life have never done. Heard my call for "help" and came and supported me EVEN if they thought I was nuts to think I needed help, and/or thought I was being really irrational and over-reacting. EVEN when they didn't agree with me, they still supported me. Simply because I asked for it. And until they did it, I didn't realize how absent that had been, for the most part, in my life.
It was a real WOW moment. A real you-guys-are-really-special and where-have-you-been-all-my-life kind of moment!! And yet, I won't / can't / don't even tell them my name?
And this is the moment where I change the title of this post. I gave you the original title above so you can see the framework I started with, and understand where I am or was going. But somewhere along the line most of you have decided that I smell just as sweet, even if my name is Borg, instead of ________. And that's pretty darn special. And I'm pretty darn lucky!!
Have patience with me, then, my friends. Because so many of you have become my friends. This is not personal to you - it is my fears, my concerns, and my need and desire to protect others whom I care about, too. I know that you can respect me on this. I've seen how you support me, despite my name. And I appreciate you all.
-----
If you're new to this somewhat one-sided conversation I keep having about this, I suggest you can read the following posts to catch up on some of my thoughts (if you've read everything I've written, you can skip this and go to the bottom of the entry, post your comment and collect your prize):
I addressed the topic on my very first day of writing this blog in a post called Assimilation.
There I wrote:
Three months later, I addressed the topic directly again in my post Clark Kent .. This is when I began to realize I might want Lois Lane to know that I was both Clark Kent and Superman so she'd know she was in love with me (well, maybe not quite that...). And what would I do at that point? Mostly I was looking for the Anonymous Anonymous support group. I was sure that Flash, Wonder Woman, Superman, Batman and all the other caped (and not so caped) crusaders might be dealing with some of the same issues I was just starting to deal with.. (and this was before I ever even knew anything about Blogher and then began to wonder how could I ever go?)
The blog post titled simply Anonymity really does state some of the reasons above (protecting others, and also a little left over self-protection) and I think it was when I typed that post that I began to decide this recurring theme / topic needed to have a label of its own. I also described briefly a very unpleasant encounter I had with one twit (because frankly she was a twit) who got really upset and really rude when I gave her a generic answer in response to a direct question about where I lived. Frankly, given her response - and she was one of the first people to ask me anything so particular (which I realize is not that particular at all) - it reinforced my rationale to remain somewhat anonymous. This person, frankly, even now long after I've blocked her, still scares me. I'm glad she only has a narrow geographic region in which to ponder where she might find me.
I also talked briefly about the sensitivity I had about my identity / location after leaving an abusive relationship. There are, unfortunately, people who I have been close to in my life who don't have any idea where I am. For some of them, I wish I could change that. For some, eventually over time, I will. But for many, unfortunately, I just had to disappear. Facebook has managed to keep me in touch with many I might otherwise have lost touch with, but my in real life close friends (only one of which is on here from that period) will tell you it was still months - if not a year - before I revealed specifically where I was in even that closed environment of hand-picked friends. While MOSTLY I am over that, I admit my steadfast responses are cultivated / learned from that experience. As I wrote in Anonymity, murder-suicide was most certainly an option on the table at the end that many - including myself - were afraid could happen. I think enough time has passed that it is very minusculely likely to happen, but when you experience that possibility and that kind of fear, trust me, you learn to be a little protective.
(Wow, that took me back to such a lovely dark place - are any of you still here? ;) )
I wrote Anonymity Revisited after I told an in real life friend - not a local friend, of course! - about the blog since it and Twitter is becoming such a big part of my life - at least big parts that I am excited and enthused about. The world didn't fall apart when I told her. Although it did give her a bit more information about something she'd known a little bit about. And she didn't (to the best of my knowledge) rush off and plaster it all over Facebook. And she hasn't disowned me as a friend. Again, an early Jenga piece.
And then a month ago, I finally came up with the Jenga analogy after I felt safe enough to share this blog with a memory-impaired local friend (she will agree with me, if she ever does find the blog again, that "memory-impaired" is a fair term to use to describe her lately). It was somewhat safe because she's likely already forgotten about the blog, or if she remembers it, has no memory of how to find it or what it was called. It was also somewhat safe because the things that I write on here about local people would not be news to her, would not reveal any new "secrets" and she has already demonstrated, as such, that I can trust her not to hurt the people I love with the information that she knows.
--------- (did you skip above? Start reading again here....)
I have fallen in love with the Jenga analogy. It fits this perfectly. Because that one friend asking, "Who am I going to tell? What harm will it do?" is correct that telling just her alone will not cause my life or this separation to come crumbling down. It won't. But telling a lot of people, even one piece at a time, will make it harder to keep this construct up.
Basically, I've come to the conclusion that the wall will naturally come down as soon as I become as popular as Jenny The Bloggess - one of my "heroes". But until then, and until I have a book deal and a way to support myself through the publishing of this blog and my ramblings, I hope you won't mind if I try to preserve this delicate balance for as long as I can. Because I admit, if and when that happens, if and when the Jenga pieces all start crumbling down, I'm going to have to think long and hard about possibly pulling some of my more 'exposing' posts, even though, of course, they've all been out there. And I don't want to censor or edit myself.
As I said, I don't like hiding. All while writing this really, really long post about why I'm hiding.
Yeah, look over there, one of the labels, too, is "inconsistency" - what can't see it? It's right there wedged between "I'm human" and "insanity" (at least at the moment I type this! I'm sure over time I'll find some other 'i' label to add...)
For those of you who made it all the way to the end of this post - wow! Thank you. And congratulate yourselves - or give me an opportunity to congratulate you for reading this really long somewhat winding post - by posting a comment here, too. I promise to comment back and thank you, and add you to my list of REALLY loyal supporters! ;)
And in the meantime, I hope you accept this rose is named Borg... I swear I smell as sweet (I *did* take a shower this morning!) as whatever my "real life" name does.
Rocks, Hard Places, Awkwardness and a Game Called Jenga
I've just had another individual from Twitter politely note, "I just realized I don't know your real name". When I politely ignored that particular comment, she less passively (after politely waiting for one or two more exchanges) directly asked, "So... not gonna tell me your real name?"
There is only one person I've met on Twitter who knows my real name. My full real name. One other person knows my first name. That's it. (So, yes, you two, you should feel REALLY special, but you can do so quietly)
And that is not an easy decision. And by next week, that circle may increase.
The first one who I gave it to had shared some quite intimate details about herself by e-mail earlier in the day, and that evening we were chatting by g-chat, and twenty minutes into the conversation she stated, finally, near the end of the conversation: "You have to tell me your name. I can't call you the borg blog!"
Um, yes you can? And her argument, as go all the arguments I get, is "who am I going to tell?"
If she were to disclose herself (which I am asking her not to), she'd tell you that all she got for a long time was just my first name. In fact, the last name slipped really only because I sent her an e-mail from the wrong account. (Dratted iPhone and human error).
This is not easy for me. I do not like living in closets. I do not like hiding who I am. I have no desire to be the tiny "wizard" hiding behind some great contraption of fire and smoke appearing to be bigger than who I am. I HATE closets (except the big walk-in kinds where I can keep my clothes that I've never actually had the joy of having...).
I have written several blog entries already about anonymity. I don't know if I've tagged them all, but you'll see several of them if you click on the label over there on the right. This is something I've struggled with. And still struggle with.
At some level, in my last anonymity post, I acknowledged that I could not keep my two worlds separate forever. But that each time one side touches the other side, it's like taking out a piece in a game of Jenga. The first pieces are easy, and bring no significant threat to the structure. Really, only the dog wagging its tail will knock it down. As a side note, playing Jenga with a yellow lab puppy, by the way, is very hard to do! But there does come a time where you've taken out so many pieces it makes the structure very precarious, and even the slight vibrations from the plane taking off nearby or the train rumbling by (I've lived both near airports and train tracks) will knock it down while you aren't even looking.
Part of the reason for this blog, I've admitted openly, is as a way for me to heal from the loss of some important people in my life. People I've loved dearly. People I still love dearly. While really I am writing in here only about me, I'm not. And I live in a small enough town that you would know who (crap, what was the name I gave him, oh, yeah) Tom was, and you'd know who tulip girl was, and you'd know who a lot of people were if you knew who I was. And while Robin Sparkles doesn't live here in town, and is an old friend from college, it wouldn't necessarily take long to identify her. (It is true, though, that I don't feel a compelling need to protect Tom, but I also don't need someone telling him I'm writing about him and have him track down this blog, either! *smile!*)
And the reality is that one of my points from the beginning, and I still maintain today, is that we all could be you. Or someone you know just down the street. Who we are - name wise - is unimportant to understanding and enjoying (I hope) our story. And maybe you can take insight you learn from reading here to apply to that person down the street whom I remind you of. That reading about my struggles and my successes and reading my thoughts and ramblings might just help bring us all together as one loving society and community (Okay, there's that big ass guy full of smoke and mirrors, but....). That knowing who I am as an individual shouldn't affect your ability to relate to what I'm writing.
But last week, it got even more complicated and troublesome keeping these worlds separate. Because last week my tweeps did something that a lot of people in my real life have never done. Heard my call for "help" and came and supported me EVEN if they thought I was nuts to think I needed help, and/or thought I was being really irrational and over-reacting. EVEN when they didn't agree with me, they still supported me. Simply because I asked for it. And until they did it, I didn't realize how absent that had been, for the most part, in my life.
It was a real WOW moment. A real you-guys-are-really-special and where-have-you-been-all-my-life kind of moment!! And yet, I won't / can't / don't even tell them my name?
And this is the moment where I change the title of this post. I gave you the original title above so you can see the framework I started with, and understand where I am or was going. But somewhere along the line most of you have decided that I smell just as sweet, even if my name is Borg, instead of ________. And that's pretty darn special. And I'm pretty darn lucky!!
Have patience with me, then, my friends. Because so many of you have become my friends. This is not personal to you - it is my fears, my concerns, and my need and desire to protect others whom I care about, too. I know that you can respect me on this. I've seen how you support me, despite my name. And I appreciate you all.
-----
If you're new to this somewhat one-sided conversation I keep having about this, I suggest you can read the following posts to catch up on some of my thoughts (if you've read everything I've written, you can skip this and go to the bottom of the entry, post your comment and collect your prize):
I addressed the topic on my very first day of writing this blog in a post called Assimilation.
There I wrote:
Our experiences while seeming unique to ourselves are also universal.
...
When one becomes assimilated into the Collective, they become one with another, and all of their memories are now part of the collective. There is no unique "I" in Borg. There is just Borg.
So while you think you may know me, you probably don't. Or rather you may know me, because my experiences are similar to yours or those you do know. But you do not know my identity.
Three months later, I addressed the topic directly again in my post Clark Kent .. This is when I began to realize I might want Lois Lane to know that I was both Clark Kent and Superman so she'd know she was in love with me (well, maybe not quite that...). And what would I do at that point? Mostly I was looking for the Anonymous Anonymous support group. I was sure that Flash, Wonder Woman, Superman, Batman and all the other caped (and not so caped) crusaders might be dealing with some of the same issues I was just starting to deal with.. (and this was before I ever even knew anything about Blogher and then began to wonder how could I ever go?)
The blog post titled simply Anonymity really does state some of the reasons above (protecting others, and also a little left over self-protection) and I think it was when I typed that post that I began to decide this recurring theme / topic needed to have a label of its own. I also described briefly a very unpleasant encounter I had with one twit (because frankly she was a twit) who got really upset and really rude when I gave her a generic answer in response to a direct question about where I lived. Frankly, given her response - and she was one of the first people to ask me anything so particular (which I realize is not that particular at all) - it reinforced my rationale to remain somewhat anonymous. This person, frankly, even now long after I've blocked her, still scares me. I'm glad she only has a narrow geographic region in which to ponder where she might find me.
I also talked briefly about the sensitivity I had about my identity / location after leaving an abusive relationship. There are, unfortunately, people who I have been close to in my life who don't have any idea where I am. For some of them, I wish I could change that. For some, eventually over time, I will. But for many, unfortunately, I just had to disappear. Facebook has managed to keep me in touch with many I might otherwise have lost touch with, but my in real life close friends (only one of which is on here from that period) will tell you it was still months - if not a year - before I revealed specifically where I was in even that closed environment of hand-picked friends. While MOSTLY I am over that, I admit my steadfast responses are cultivated / learned from that experience. As I wrote in Anonymity, murder-suicide was most certainly an option on the table at the end that many - including myself - were afraid could happen. I think enough time has passed that it is very minusculely likely to happen, but when you experience that possibility and that kind of fear, trust me, you learn to be a little protective.
(Wow, that took me back to such a lovely dark place - are any of you still here? ;) )
I wrote Anonymity Revisited after I told an in real life friend - not a local friend, of course! - about the blog since it and Twitter is becoming such a big part of my life - at least big parts that I am excited and enthused about. The world didn't fall apart when I told her. Although it did give her a bit more information about something she'd known a little bit about. And she didn't (to the best of my knowledge) rush off and plaster it all over Facebook. And she hasn't disowned me as a friend. Again, an early Jenga piece.
And then a month ago, I finally came up with the Jenga analogy after I felt safe enough to share this blog with a memory-impaired local friend (she will agree with me, if she ever does find the blog again, that "memory-impaired" is a fair term to use to describe her lately). It was somewhat safe because she's likely already forgotten about the blog, or if she remembers it, has no memory of how to find it or what it was called. It was also somewhat safe because the things that I write on here about local people would not be news to her, would not reveal any new "secrets" and she has already demonstrated, as such, that I can trust her not to hurt the people I love with the information that she knows.
--------- (did you skip above? Start reading again here....)
I have fallen in love with the Jenga analogy. It fits this perfectly. Because that one friend asking, "Who am I going to tell? What harm will it do?" is correct that telling just her alone will not cause my life or this separation to come crumbling down. It won't. But telling a lot of people, even one piece at a time, will make it harder to keep this construct up.
Basically, I've come to the conclusion that the wall will naturally come down as soon as I become as popular as Jenny The Bloggess - one of my "heroes". But until then, and until I have a book deal and a way to support myself through the publishing of this blog and my ramblings, I hope you won't mind if I try to preserve this delicate balance for as long as I can. Because I admit, if and when that happens, if and when the Jenga pieces all start crumbling down, I'm going to have to think long and hard about possibly pulling some of my more 'exposing' posts, even though, of course, they've all been out there. And I don't want to censor or edit myself.
As I said, I don't like hiding. All while writing this really, really long post about why I'm hiding.
Yeah, look over there, one of the labels, too, is "inconsistency" - what can't see it? It's right there wedged between "I'm human" and "insanity" (at least at the moment I type this! I'm sure over time I'll find some other 'i' label to add...)
For those of you who made it all the way to the end of this post - wow! Thank you. And congratulate yourselves - or give me an opportunity to congratulate you for reading this really long somewhat winding post - by posting a comment here, too. I promise to comment back and thank you, and add you to my list of REALLY loyal supporters! ;)
And in the meantime, I hope you accept this rose is named Borg... I swear I smell as sweet (I *did* take a shower this morning!) as whatever my "real life" name does.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
The Polite Conundrum Dance
Or, alternate title: Dyke in a Small Town Revisited
I've spent a lot of time in larger metropolitan areas where finding the gay community was easy - or at least certainly much easier than I've been able to find here. So there was at least a place where you knew folks would pool who were also like you. Dupont Circle, the entire city of San Francisco, West Hollywood... You get the idea! So if you were interested in finding a date, at a minimum, you had at least one place you could go.
No such luck here. Trust me.
But in real life you never know who you're going to run into and whether they might be your soul mate or future life partner, or even a lovely fling. In real life you should leave yourself open to possibilities because you never know who might come along.
Here's the problem. If I hit on you in West Hollywood, and you're straight, you shouldn't be so surprised. If you're in my "hood" (so to speak) you should be comfortable enough that someone might think you're not just a tourist. Okay, that's not the problem... The problem is how we identify each other outside of the "hood".
When I came out in college, I kinda did it in a big way, almost without thinking, my first year by sitting at a "Coming Out Day" table (Coming Out Day is October 11th - so you can get an idea of how relatively early in the year it was). People I had gotten to know in that first month and a half reacted in a variety of ways. One woman (who admittedly later had a torrid lesbian affair her senior year) came up to me and gave me a big hug without even realizing or caring what I was doing. But others weren't so friendly. I had several straight female friends who suddenly became afraid I was going to hit on them and began to keep their distance.
Now this is problematic in two ways. First, so what if I did? Were they not capable of politely turning me down and being appropriately complimented that I might be interested? Apparently not. And the second, which is often a reaction that is part of this polite conundrum dance, is the idea that they were so "arrogant" as to think I would.
And there we have the two steps of the Polite Conundrum Dance. It's quite a simple dance, really.
Two women are talking and one is already out and known as a dyke. The other's sexual orientation is unknown.
If the dyke takes a chance and hits on her, if the other woman is straight, she may run away (and yes, even if she's also gay, she could run away...). So, one step backwards.
If the other person early on quickly clarifies - before the dyke takes a chance and hits on her - "I'm straight" she risks offending the dyke that she's so arrogant and that she's so scared that the dyke is going to hit on her. This may or may NOT be what the straight person is trying to indicate, mind you. That's not relevant in the Polite Conundrum Dance. What's relevant is what MIGHT POSSIBLY INCONCEIVABLY be nonetheless conceived, and not wanting to ruin or risk a new burgeoning friendship.
Now, for you straight people, one word of advice I have for you. Early on in the conversation, please feel free to drop in handily something about your boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend. That is a nice subtle way (if it doesn't seem too contrived) to clue us in that you are not available to us (although, for the record, I've discovered it does NOT necessarily mean that you might not still be interested, but that's a whole other world and a whole other post... See, for example, Married Women Like Breasts..!). Yes, unfortunately, stating outright early on, "I'm straight, by the way" won't typically go over well - even though in some ways it would be much appreciated - there are more subtle ways, nonetheless, to let the other person know.
Now, a little bit of wisdom about me, in particular. This may or may not apply to others like me - I can only speak to me. I am a shameless flirt. I love to flirt. It may or may not mean I am interested in something more, but sometimes, I'll admit, in whether I'm interested in something more may depend upon your response to me. However, given that I flirt with men, women, and dogs, alike, it may mean nothing at all as to whether I am interested in being more than friends. You should not be worried, upset, offended, or horrified if I flirt with you. Flirting is fun. If you enjoy it, then flirt back. If you don't, don't. Simple. And those rules, I think, generally apply to just about anyone - if you enjoy someone's flirtation, flirt back, and if you don't, then don't.
If you may be interested in something more with me, I'm dense. I'm dumb. You'll probably need to be explicit or spell it out. Or just really, really flirt a lot, and either way, I'll have lots of fun with you. ;) (I've discovered, apparently, sending me pictures is an effective way of letting me know... although I'm not necessarily a "visual" person....and wouldn't necessarily expect or want them, I can still appreciate the statement, apparently!)
But I have a lot of conversations with new people whose company I enjoy where I find myself engaged in The Polite Conundrum Dance. They already know I'm a dyke. Is that why they're interested in getting to know me better? Is that what they're interested in? If their twitter handle has the words "lesbian" or "dyke" already in them, those I got a clue who I'm dealing with. "Mama" however in your twitter handle does NOT exclude you from the possibility of playing on my team. And surprisingly I've run into very few people who have "straight" or "STR8" in their handle. The only Twitter handle I've found where it's been BEYOND clear that they weren't interested in a romantic relationship with me simply from their handle was "GODH8SFAGS" (although technically, when they wrote me, they did tell me that THEY loved me... so I'm so confused... ;) )
So if you're a new friend, please feel free to drop the gender, subtly in conversation, of your last significant other in order to clue me in... and if I flirt with you, don't be offended.. ;)
Now, check out my next post where I teach everyone how to do the Waltz. (1-2-3, 1-2-3...)
I've spent a lot of time in larger metropolitan areas where finding the gay community was easy - or at least certainly much easier than I've been able to find here. So there was at least a place where you knew folks would pool who were also like you. Dupont Circle, the entire city of San Francisco, West Hollywood... You get the idea! So if you were interested in finding a date, at a minimum, you had at least one place you could go.
No such luck here. Trust me.
But in real life you never know who you're going to run into and whether they might be your soul mate or future life partner, or even a lovely fling. In real life you should leave yourself open to possibilities because you never know who might come along.
Here's the problem. If I hit on you in West Hollywood, and you're straight, you shouldn't be so surprised. If you're in my "hood" (so to speak) you should be comfortable enough that someone might think you're not just a tourist. Okay, that's not the problem... The problem is how we identify each other outside of the "hood".
When I came out in college, I kinda did it in a big way, almost without thinking, my first year by sitting at a "Coming Out Day" table (Coming Out Day is October 11th - so you can get an idea of how relatively early in the year it was). People I had gotten to know in that first month and a half reacted in a variety of ways. One woman (who admittedly later had a torrid lesbian affair her senior year) came up to me and gave me a big hug without even realizing or caring what I was doing. But others weren't so friendly. I had several straight female friends who suddenly became afraid I was going to hit on them and began to keep their distance.
Now this is problematic in two ways. First, so what if I did? Were they not capable of politely turning me down and being appropriately complimented that I might be interested? Apparently not. And the second, which is often a reaction that is part of this polite conundrum dance, is the idea that they were so "arrogant" as to think I would.
And there we have the two steps of the Polite Conundrum Dance. It's quite a simple dance, really.
Two women are talking and one is already out and known as a dyke. The other's sexual orientation is unknown.
If the dyke takes a chance and hits on her, if the other woman is straight, she may run away (and yes, even if she's also gay, she could run away...). So, one step backwards.
If the other person early on quickly clarifies - before the dyke takes a chance and hits on her - "I'm straight" she risks offending the dyke that she's so arrogant and that she's so scared that the dyke is going to hit on her. This may or may NOT be what the straight person is trying to indicate, mind you. That's not relevant in the Polite Conundrum Dance. What's relevant is what MIGHT POSSIBLY INCONCEIVABLY be nonetheless conceived, and not wanting to ruin or risk a new burgeoning friendship.
Now, for you straight people, one word of advice I have for you. Early on in the conversation, please feel free to drop in handily something about your boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend. That is a nice subtle way (if it doesn't seem too contrived) to clue us in that you are not available to us (although, for the record, I've discovered it does NOT necessarily mean that you might not still be interested, but that's a whole other world and a whole other post... See, for example, Married Women Like Breasts..!). Yes, unfortunately, stating outright early on, "I'm straight, by the way" won't typically go over well - even though in some ways it would be much appreciated - there are more subtle ways, nonetheless, to let the other person know.
Now, a little bit of wisdom about me, in particular. This may or may not apply to others like me - I can only speak to me. I am a shameless flirt. I love to flirt. It may or may not mean I am interested in something more, but sometimes, I'll admit, in whether I'm interested in something more may depend upon your response to me. However, given that I flirt with men, women, and dogs, alike, it may mean nothing at all as to whether I am interested in being more than friends. You should not be worried, upset, offended, or horrified if I flirt with you. Flirting is fun. If you enjoy it, then flirt back. If you don't, don't. Simple. And those rules, I think, generally apply to just about anyone - if you enjoy someone's flirtation, flirt back, and if you don't, then don't.
If you may be interested in something more with me, I'm dense. I'm dumb. You'll probably need to be explicit or spell it out. Or just really, really flirt a lot, and either way, I'll have lots of fun with you. ;) (I've discovered, apparently, sending me pictures is an effective way of letting me know... although I'm not necessarily a "visual" person....and wouldn't necessarily expect or want them, I can still appreciate the statement, apparently!)
But I have a lot of conversations with new people whose company I enjoy where I find myself engaged in The Polite Conundrum Dance. They already know I'm a dyke. Is that why they're interested in getting to know me better? Is that what they're interested in? If their twitter handle has the words "lesbian" or "dyke" already in them, those I got a clue who I'm dealing with. "Mama" however in your twitter handle does NOT exclude you from the possibility of playing on my team. And surprisingly I've run into very few people who have "straight" or "STR8" in their handle. The only Twitter handle I've found where it's been BEYOND clear that they weren't interested in a romantic relationship with me simply from their handle was "GODH8SFAGS" (although technically, when they wrote me, they did tell me that THEY loved me... so I'm so confused... ;) )
So if you're a new friend, please feel free to drop the gender, subtly in conversation, of your last significant other in order to clue me in... and if I flirt with you, don't be offended.. ;)
Now, check out my next post where I teach everyone how to do the Waltz. (1-2-3, 1-2-3...)
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Punching Bags, Over-Reactions and Bringing an Army
I woke up this morning earlier than I wanted and not quite yet ready to hit the day. With less than minimal sleep, I checked my email and found that someone had left me a comment on one of my entries.
I, then, proceeded to over-react. Because that is much more fun, don't you think? Me, too!
And while I generally don't recommend over-reactions, I managed, nonetheless, to at least focus that over-reaction in a positive manner. In hindsight, I am quite surprised and pleased with myself on that.
In the past (yes! in the past, damnit!) I have made a wonderful punching bag. I am so empathetic to your pain, that I allow that pain to be an excuse to behave badly towards me. I excuse your behavior and then have stood still while you took your shots.
I have a VERY good long history of making excuses for others' bad behavior. And this is no question one of my underlying repeated issues. One that I haven't quite yet resolved because I have been doing it as long as I can remember. I don't really know how not to do it. It's been a role I've played often and with many people in my life. It is a role I have unfortunately allowed myself to be in often and with many people in my life.
Now, for the most part, I have been fairly good about not taking the poor behavior personally. In fact that is kind of a requirement to be successful in this skill. Because if you take it personally, you'd actually be smart enough, ideally, to not take the behavior at all.
Hmm...
It doesn't mean that the behavior hasn't been hurtful. It doesn't mean that the overall accumulated message isn't internalized - you are not important enough for me to treat you appropriately. It has been. Don't worry. I got the message. Over and over and over, again.
Now, one element of this broader skill of making excuses for poor behavior, then, is allowing others to use you as a punching bag to vent their own anger and frustration. Again, often you know not to take it personally, but it doesn't mean that it doesn't get internalized.
I still have a long way to go in letting go of making excuses for others, but I have, at least, learned (for the most part) to stop being someone else's punching bag. At least I can distinguish that part of it.
Except until today, I wasn't able, necessarily, to articulate it so well.
So, at an early hour in the morning, not as properly rested as I wanted to be, and taking the comment in concert with another earlier comment, I felt attacked. Whether real or imagined, I probably still can't say with accuracy.
But I was feeling vulnerable.
I wrote what I think was an articulate and even compassionate response to this person who clearly has experienced their own pain. But I clarified that the description this person had given in response to my post was not accurate as applied to me.
And then, as this person cowardly came to the "fight" armed only with bad spelling as his or her only tool, I decided it was appropriate to bring an army. I totally over-reacted. I know I over-reacted.
And after I summoned my army, I wrote my post about needing to have Thicker Skin and then finally headed off to start my day.
But I have taken some serious time today thinking - a la Sticks & Stones - as to why I reacted so strongly to someone who cannot clearly articulate his or her position which seems to have little to no relevance to what I actually posted. Many friends kindly and privately asked me why I was reacting so strongly, and made clear that I did not need to waste my energy giving it to such a person. And they were all correct, and I knew it even before I summoned them.
But I wasn't feeling so strong today, and so I over-reacted and called an army. And in doing so I confirmed something I already knew, I am not alone. I am part of a community. And even though my friends standing on the sideline thought I looked strong and had this weak person licked and that I didn't seem to need any help, they still responded to my call.
I have been a punching bag. I will no longer be a punching bag. And when I am not strong enough to fight back on my own, I will call my army. And they will make sure you know that I am not a punching bag. I may seem weak. And I may be weak, at times, but with my community I will stand strong.
Even if I have to over-react to do so... ;)
Thank you so much to all the folks who provided me support publicly and privately, even despite my irrational over-reaction. You are awesome!
I, then, proceeded to over-react. Because that is much more fun, don't you think? Me, too!
And while I generally don't recommend over-reactions, I managed, nonetheless, to at least focus that over-reaction in a positive manner. In hindsight, I am quite surprised and pleased with myself on that.
In the past (yes! in the past, damnit!) I have made a wonderful punching bag. I am so empathetic to your pain, that I allow that pain to be an excuse to behave badly towards me. I excuse your behavior and then have stood still while you took your shots.
I have a VERY good long history of making excuses for others' bad behavior. And this is no question one of my underlying repeated issues. One that I haven't quite yet resolved because I have been doing it as long as I can remember. I don't really know how not to do it. It's been a role I've played often and with many people in my life. It is a role I have unfortunately allowed myself to be in often and with many people in my life.
Now, for the most part, I have been fairly good about not taking the poor behavior personally. In fact that is kind of a requirement to be successful in this skill. Because if you take it personally, you'd actually be smart enough, ideally, to not take the behavior at all.
Hmm...
It doesn't mean that the behavior hasn't been hurtful. It doesn't mean that the overall accumulated message isn't internalized - you are not important enough for me to treat you appropriately. It has been. Don't worry. I got the message. Over and over and over, again.
Now, one element of this broader skill of making excuses for poor behavior, then, is allowing others to use you as a punching bag to vent their own anger and frustration. Again, often you know not to take it personally, but it doesn't mean that it doesn't get internalized.
I still have a long way to go in letting go of making excuses for others, but I have, at least, learned (for the most part) to stop being someone else's punching bag. At least I can distinguish that part of it.
Except until today, I wasn't able, necessarily, to articulate it so well.
So, at an early hour in the morning, not as properly rested as I wanted to be, and taking the comment in concert with another earlier comment, I felt attacked. Whether real or imagined, I probably still can't say with accuracy.
But I was feeling vulnerable.
I wrote what I think was an articulate and even compassionate response to this person who clearly has experienced their own pain. But I clarified that the description this person had given in response to my post was not accurate as applied to me.
And then, as this person cowardly came to the "fight" armed only with bad spelling as his or her only tool, I decided it was appropriate to bring an army. I totally over-reacted. I know I over-reacted.
And after I summoned my army, I wrote my post about needing to have Thicker Skin and then finally headed off to start my day.
But I have taken some serious time today thinking - a la Sticks & Stones - as to why I reacted so strongly to someone who cannot clearly articulate his or her position which seems to have little to no relevance to what I actually posted. Many friends kindly and privately asked me why I was reacting so strongly, and made clear that I did not need to waste my energy giving it to such a person. And they were all correct, and I knew it even before I summoned them.
But I wasn't feeling so strong today, and so I over-reacted and called an army. And in doing so I confirmed something I already knew, I am not alone. I am part of a community. And even though my friends standing on the sideline thought I looked strong and had this weak person licked and that I didn't seem to need any help, they still responded to my call.
I have been a punching bag. I will no longer be a punching bag. And when I am not strong enough to fight back on my own, I will call my army. And they will make sure you know that I am not a punching bag. I may seem weak. And I may be weak, at times, but with my community I will stand strong.
Even if I have to over-react to do so... ;)
Thank you so much to all the folks who provided me support publicly and privately, even despite my irrational over-reaction. You are awesome!
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Ollie's Barbecue or Choice
Now when I started
thinking about the topic of “choice” this morning, my head was in a different
space about a different topic. And at
some point, I really want to get back to my original thoughts and write a post
about that. (And yes, this is one of my infamous shower posts...)
For those of you who might not make it to the end, I'll give you a spoiler alert - our true choice in this and many matters is to choose to respect each other. Seems like an easy choice to make.
For those of you who might not make it to the end, I'll give you a spoiler alert - our true choice in this and many matters is to choose to respect each other. Seems like an easy choice to make.
I tend not to be
too political, and I’ve already promised you that you won’t find many political
posts on here except that as they may apply to the “human condition”. (Nice broad vague catch-all, since all
politics, at some level, apply to the human condition, or could be interpreted
as such). If you look, though, over there at that my 'tags' you'll see that "politics" is quite small. But my intent, shall we say,
is to bring “political” issues in NOT because they are political hot-button
issues, but because the issue has something valuable to observe. I have written early on, although many of you have yet to read this post (since the stats show only one view as of this posting), that I am neither politically correct nor politically incorrect. I'm bound to offend someone! You may want to begin reading that post before you dive into this one (and, no, I'm not just shamefully trying to up my stats - that's just an added bonus! ;) )
Now, if I had
titled this just “Choice” as I originally thought to, and once you realized
this might be political, your first thought might be that this would be a post
about abortion. And believe me, while
not my originating thoughts, it is one area where my thoughts wandered this
morning in the shower about what to write and how to compose this message.
And so I’ll spend a
moment – a few paragraphs – clarifying my stance on the issue of abortion, and
then we can move on. I am a pro-life
pro-choicer. I believe that woman should
be able to make a choice about their own bodies, but I hope that they choose to
bring the life into this world. Although
this world *is* heavily over-populated. What
I would like, though, is for there to be more choices for someone who chooses
to carry to term. I’d like there to be
less stigma attached to giving up one’s baby given that there are so many
wonderful people out there who would like to be parents and who are looking to
adopt. I’d like there to be more options
in finding support for raising a baby they choose to raise. I’d like the anti-abortionists, then, to
really reflect on the serenity prayer and put their energy and their money
towards creating positive solutions and positive choices. While we would love every pregnancy to be
wanted and the news to be received with joy, this will never happen. Even many parents who choose to have their
children, sadly, don’t necessarily look with joy upon their new arrival. (That’s a whole other sad scenario).
Accept the things
we cannot change. It doesn’t mean we can’t
take serious preventative measures to lessen the number of those pregnancies
(something, by the way, Planned Parenthood works towards), but it also means we
need to accept the reality of unplanned and unwanted pregnancies (by the way,
in case you were wondering, that’s what the “planned” part of Planned
Parenthood refers to…).
Change the things
we can. We can’t changed unplanned,
unwanted pregnancies. And given that
abortion has been around since the dawn of time, in one form or another, the
reality is that we can’t change whether abortion happens, although clearly we can make it more
difficult, and we can limit them. What
we can change is the following three things: 1) provide education on how to
prevent unwanted pregnancies and the means by which to do so, 2) provide
options for women who do become pregnant to have an effective choice, and
ideally a clear choice, to carry the baby to term – to know that doing so won’t
affect the rest of her life, that she won’t be a pariah in society for having become
an unwed mother, if that’s the circumstance, and that there will be resources
out there, for example, if she is still young and in school, to finish school
and be able to have a job or a career to support her and her child should she
choose that, or to find a loving and caring family who would lovingly take her
child into their home as their own. 3)
if, nonetheless, a woman still chooses to have an abortion, make it a safe,
healthy choice for her so that we don’t lose two lives in the process.
And frankly, if you
look at what Planned Parenthood does, I think it tries to do all three of those
things. And someone who supports Planned
Parenthood (as an aside) is not necessarily pro-abortion. In fact, they are likely not pro-abortion at
all, but pro-healthy-woman and healthy families. Lord knows we have a growing mental health
community due to unwanted children being brought into this world and being
neglected, abused, and essentially thrown away.
These are real issues that we need to face and deal with as a
society. But that’s another rant.
But abortion was
NOT the topic on my mind at all. But it
was raised last night as part of a discussion regarding Chick-Fil-A. The issue was raised because some people are
trying to make the issue black and white. And some people are trying to lump other people into neat little boxes. Some people are trying to focus on the right of Cathy to speak and in
the process gracefully ignoring what it was that he said.
Frankly, and I may
not when popularity points here, I don’t think what Cathy said was that “offensive”. I have heard much worse. He was expressing his views and his opinions,
and not only is he entitled to have them, not only are they shared by a lot of
people in the country, he is also entitled to express them, and to express them
not only with his voice but with his dollars.
I find it sad that he is unable to see or understand that God made me
the way that I am, and that I believe God blessed my union, and that, frankly,
if the government is going to confer benefits on two people who choose to share
their lives together in the form of a family, I should be able to partake in
those benefits, too. As well as the
responsibilities. (The California domestic
partnership law is called the "Domestic Partners Rights and Responsibilities
Act").
But some people, and understandably so, find his speech to be hate-speech. I'll be honest, I'm not sure that it rises to that level, but I can understand in this day and age where others who are fighting so hard for equality, and who have determined that their equality will best be won through legalized marriage, how that those words can be hateful. Essentially, Cathy is declaring that anyone whose lifelong partner is the same sex is a second-class citizen.
Notice, we don't hear a lot of people who have been divorced speaking up or taking note of Cathy's statements about being still married to their first wives. They are cleverly and wisely hiding behind the gays' outrage at his statements and hoping no-one will notice that they are not amongst the people that Cathy supports either.
Westboro Baptist Church, as I reminded some folks in last night's conversation, also claim Freedom of Speech when they picket military funerals. People find it easier - because they aren't simply targeting gay funerals - to find the Westboro Baptist Church's speech as offensive and hateful. They are actually clearly targeting America (go to their website, this isn't MY conclusion, this is their own declaration!) I guess it might depend on who the speech is used against as to whether or not we might more easily recognize the "hate" involved.
In 1967, the Supreme Court made a fairly radical decision at the time. It decided that a ban against a man and a woman who loved each other who had actually been legally married was an unconstitutional action on the part of the Commonwealth of Virginia. Two people had gotten married in the District of Columbia, and then returned home to Virginia. Two policemen raided their home at night, hoping to catch them in marital relations, but only found them sleeping together. When the couple pointed to their marriage certificate on the wall, the police found that as evidence to criminally charge them.
Picture this. You're in bed with your significant other (who you may or may not have married - let's face it many of us are involved in pre-marital relationships) and the police come in and arrest you for actually SLEEPING together? WTF? Don't the cops have anything better to do? And it was a RADICAL decision at the time for the Supreme Court to tell the Commonwealth of Virginia that what they did was wrong.
By now, I hope, you've figured out that the case I am referring to was Loving v. Virginia, and while each had a partner of the appropriate sex, they did not fall in love with partners of what was then the appropriate race.
So when supporters of LGBT rights liken this to the 1960s civil rights movement regarding race, this is kinda an example of why. We fall in love with who we fall in love with. We should be allowed to choose the people we want to share our lives with. We were born this way. God made me this way. To say that I, a creature of God, is a second class citizen is considered hateful by some.
Now, I don't think what Cathy did was illegal, nor do I hear anyone suggesting it is. Free speech is speech free from GOVERNMENT restriction. The public arena is free to use their own means of expression to quell speech they find offensive. And some are.
Someone wrote last night that supporting Chick-Fil-A is not supporting the suppression of rights. Well, here's the logic that says that it is. No, Chick-Fil-A, unlike Ollie's Barbecue, is willing to serve and take anyone's money who wants to purchase their chicken and other fare. BUT, the profit they make may be used to support anti-gay organizations who ARE fighting and making strides in suppressing the rights of all people to marry whom they love, regardless of race, or gender. And so, some hungry people are choosing not to do so.
(Is anyone still reading at this point? Because here's where some of the humor comes in.. ) So I posted on my Facebook page (yes, my Tweeps, I do still use FB) a link to a picture of a KFC sign. Again, there, too, I try not to be too political, and I don't think food and politic necessarily belong together, but they have since before I was born, so who am I to fight it? The sign said "Delicious Chicken Served Without Hate"
Now a friend of mine who is a vegetarian posted a quandary this morning. She wrote that she's not a fan of homophobes, but frankly the way that KFC treats their chickens isn't particularly humane, either.
What's a person to do? As I wrote in the post I first referred you to at the start, I'm not politically correct or incorrect, the best a person can do is to try to be sensitive. Even if you can't understand why someone might be upset, be respectful that there might be a valid reason, and try to be sensitive to their pain and anguish. When someone is angry, it is because they are hurt. Here, people are hurt because they've been told that they are inferior citizens. Their choice - a very valid choice - is to be angry and not accept being told that. To let the world - or the U.S. - know that they find that treatment unacceptable. That they find that behavior to be hateful. No-one on either side here in the chicken world is proposing or advocating violence. But still, as I wrote in the original Sticks & Stones, words do hurt.
Even if we don't agree, then, with what someone else is saying, let's at least begin the dialog by acknowledging their right to feel that way. This means acknowledging Cathy's right to feel that traditional marriage is defined in the Bible as between a man and a woman, even if we disagree. And acknowledging that this speech can be found to be hateful, even if we don't agree. Our first choice, then, is to respect each other and try to come to some middle ground. To respectfully engage each other in a dialog to illustrate our understandings so that maybe we might help the other to understand, too.
The movement for gay marriage as a right actually started in the late eighties, early nineties. Most politically active people knew then it was too early to attack that issue and change people's minds. It may still be. In my mind, the best choice is to create a civil domestic union, and grandfather in everyone who has been married to date. From here forward, keep the government out of "marriage" - recognize it as a religious "sacrament" - and let the churches decide whether to marry or not. But let everyone have equal access to the responsibilities and the rights involved in becoming life-partners- the right to pay taxes, the right to visit in the hospital, to choose funeral arrangements, to receive social security benefits, health care insurance, etc. Separate that from "marriage" and I think most people would be more accepting of conferring this status upon same-sex partners. Just my two cents...
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