A Hurting Nation

A nation is hurting today. Even those who believe that justice prevailed in the case of Trayvon Martin's murder are hurting. And they don't even know it. You see, nobody wins in a society where human life, any human life, is devalued. Nobody wins when "my" life is more valuable than "yours."

Many people are angry right now. Understand that anger is a secondary emotion. Nobody is born angry. The natural disposition of the human race is happiness. Then tragedies happen, travesties happen, hell, bad hair days happen and we allow ourselves to be knocked off our naturally happy journeys.

So no, anger is not primary. Anger happens usually as a result of fear. Take the situation that is upon us. Think about your own reaction to the not guilty verdict. Why are you angry? I'll tell you why I'm angry: because I'm scared out of my mind. I'm scared that my sons could be killed and no one would care. I'm scared that my sons will believe that their lives are expendable. I'm scared that my sons will grow up jaded and believe that no matter what they do, no matter what they accomplish, it will never be good enough. I'm scared that my sons' lives are irrelevant to those that would have them die untimely and senseless deaths.

I'm scared.

So I am angry because I know none of that is true, and I can't fathom a world where others don't know that, too. I'm also angry because I live in that unfathomable world.

But the anger is not what matters here; it's how we choose to channel that anger that matters. I choose to hug my sons (and daughters) and tell them emphatically that their lives matter; to look into their eyes and tell them that they are relevant and important and loved.

I choose peace. I choose love. I choose life.

What do you choose?

Be comforted by the knowledge that only light can smother darkness. Only love can triumph over hate. And Karma...well...that lady's a bitch.


Until next time,
Feed on love, subsist on peace, and hug your babies.

Mrs. Hyde

Perfect

If you follow me on Twitter or if you're one of my Facebook friends, you know how much I love this song. I've included the clean version here because some followers of this blog may or may not be offended by the uncut version. Both of my personalities like this clean version, but on the other hand, we both feel the uncut version.

I was watching a Tivo'd episode of Oprah recently and she said something that I have always said to people, but just not as eloquently as she. She said that we "teach what we most need to learn." My sister and I have conversations to that effect all the time. I do it all the time right here on this blog. It's easy for me to tell you what to do to feel good about yourselves. It's easy to drill into your heads that your are perfect just the way you are. It's easy because I know, logically, how this thing called life is supposed to be done. What's not easy is doing it. The phrase "easier said than done" applies here.

You know how sometimes when you're talking to your friend about a problem she may have and the solution seems so obvious to you that you can't understand why she can't see it herself? I mean, it's right there in front of her face. Why can't she see it? She sees it. However, it's far less painful to pretend she has no clue than it is to resolve the issue. I don't know about you, but I do that all the time.

Here's the thing: I know me. I'm aware of all my issues. One of the things I know is that my cursing so much is a defense mechanism. It says to people, "That is the wrong woman to mess with. Don't try to take advantage of her or otherwise get on her bad side because things will not go well for you." I know that I developed this defense mechanism as a result of not feeling protected as a child. I had so many horrible things happen to me and I would wonder why no one would come to my defense. No one brought food to my siblings and me when our mother disappeared for days at a time. No one objected when she sold me to a man for drug money. No one stopped the man in the stairwell from trying to rape me when I was six-years-old; I stopped him myself. I kicked and scratched...and I screamed curse words at him...until he let me up off the concrete floor. I knew what he wanted to do to me and I was damned sick of being a victim. At six. That's when I learned that cursing can make people leave you alone. Kicking and scratching don't hurt, either.

I didn't know why my mother didn't love me and the only reason I could think of why God didn't love me was that I was a bad girl. I was bad and that was why bad things always happened to me. That was why God let them happen.

I spent a large portion of my life trying to make up for being bad. I let people take advantage of me and treat me unkindly. I was fully aware of what they were doing, I just wanted to redeem myself in the eyes of God. I had to somehow get back into His good graces. People called me names, I said nothing. Some would physically attack me, I didn't retaliate. Others betrayed me, and though I was hurt, I let them get away with it. You see, I felt I deserved their mistreatment and hatred. Because I was a bad girl. I was a bad person.

Then, one day I got pissed. I tell you today that nothing cures despair like anger. Don't ever let anyone tell you that anger is counterproductive because it definitely is not. All emotions serve a purpose. This post is not about anger, so I will tell you about channeling it properly some other time. Right now I want to tell you about how getting angry repaired my broken spirit. At least that's what I thought at the time.

I thought, "Why the hell don't I deserve to be protected? What makes me so evil that the whole world can dump all over me without consequences?" I didn't remember doing anything that would warrant God's hatred, so I had had enough. I went from the extreme of being a doormat to the extreme of being in constant-anger mode. But again, we'll talk about that in a future post.

Even after I learned to calm myself and be a little more peaceful, I still had this one issue that wouldn't go away: I was fat. It was more than that, though. I would gain weight, be horrified by my reflection in the mirror, then lose weight. Lather, rinse, repeat as needed. I used to think that I had a love/hate relationship with food, as in: I love it, it loves me, and I hate that it loves me so damned much because it has a tendency to stick around long after I'm done savoring its deliciousness. I've realized, later than I would have hoped, that my love/hate relationship is with myself. I absolutely love to hate myself. I've become quite good at it, too. I call myself names, I physically attack myself (in the forms of overeating and other self-abuse), I betray my own sense of self-worth by doing things that make me feel horrible about myself. Does any of this sound familiar?

Why do I do this to myself?

Because somewhere, not so deep down inside myself, I still think I'm a bad girl. I still think I deserve to be mistreated only I've made it clear to others that they can't do it. So who does that leave to treat me like dirt?

Me.

Isn't that something? I've fought most of my life to be respected and here I am disrespecting myself. If you recognize yourself anywhere in this post, let's stop this abuse of ourselves. Let's take a stand against the one person we thought would always have our backs. Let's defend ourselves...against ourselves. Don't defeat yourself before you even begin by saying how hard this is going to be. I'm a firm believer that you can do whatever you think you can do. If you think it's going to be hard, it'll be hard; if you think it's going to be easy, it'll be easy. Let's come up with strategies and game plans as if we were facing our greatest enemy. Let's find ways to cut him off at every pass. Let's be on the offensive. Let's attack before the "enemy" gets a chance to.

I'm going to take my first step today. When I finish this post, I'm going to walk over to my dresser, pick up the bottle of diet pills that I pay $40/month for and I'm going to throw them in the trash. I'm going to continue  on the blood pressure pills I take to counteract the effects of said diet pills, but only for a month. And hopefully, once both medicines are out of my system, I can reclaim the libido that has been lost from taking the blood pressure meds. As you can see, I gave up a lot to my inner enemy; my health, my womanhood. And if that weren't enough, those pills turn you into a raging lunatic. Some of you have benefited from that lunacy on A Bitch Called Mom. I guess we'll have to see if I have any 'bitch' left in me once the diet pills are all gone.

I suspect there's plenty to spare.

"Change the voices in your head. Make them like you instead." ---P!nk

Here's to self-love, self-worth, and self-respect! Please send positive vibes, thoughts, and prayers my way and I will do the same for you.

Until next week,

Feed on love, subsist on peace.

Negative is the Absence of Positive

I started today off in a good mood. In fact, I was downright giddy. Something about this time of the year... The air is crisp, the sun is shining brightly, and oh, my kids go back to school. Nothing like a quiet house to make a woman feel like a giggly third grader.

My stellar mood was darkened, however, by the news that two of my long-time friends had gotten a divorce. Not only are they divorced, but the ex-husband is now remarried. And I just found out. Indirectly. On Facebook.

I'm devastated to say the least. I mean, I have known this couple most of my life. I remember when they met (we were teenagers). I remember when they fell in love. I remember insisting on being my friend's matron of honor, only to be informed that, as an unmarried woman, I was actually the maid of honor. I remember the births of their children, one of whom happens to be my godchild.

When I went to their respective FB pages, I got the impression that things are not as smooth as one would hope. Apparently, the children have animosity for their father and have decided to stop speaking to him. It's all so very, very sad. My heart is breaking for them and I will pray that they all find peace.

No, I didn't set out to make you cry today, or myself for that matter. I intended to write about how negativity is simply the absence of something positive. I'll do that now.

I don't know any of the details of what happened with my friends. You'll recall that I learned about it on FB, which means that I haven't actually spoken to either of them in quite some time. But from the minuscule amount of info I gathered, it seems that some, if not all, of them are holding onto grudges, pain, and hostility. I want to say to my friends, both the ones I know personally and the ones who follow this blog, that that is never a good idea. It's the easy choice, I'll grant you, even the popular one, but not the best one.

A few weeks ago I wrote about the importance of the father/child relationship. I won't rehash that whole discussion, but I do want to say that regardless of what your husband/ex-husband/lover/baby's daddy has done to you, it's unfair to project your feelings about him onto your children. He is still their daddy. He might be a lying, cheating, sorry sonofabitch, but I'm willing to bet he still loves his kids. I know you want him to feel as much hurt as you do, but if you must get revenge, find another way. Don't ruin your child's sense of love and decency because someone hurt YOU.

To that end, I want to say please find some way to heal. Try not to hold on to hostility because not only does it cloud your judgement, make you bitter, and hold you back from love, but it gives the other person control of your life. No one deserves to control your life but you. Don't ever give someone else control over you. If you do, they win. Do you get that? They win. So you lose by default.

It's easy to say, I know, but hard to do. But (here is my original train of thought) if you understand that anything negative is merely the absence of something positive, I think it will get that much easier. It's so simple, really. Darkness is the absence of light. Hatred is the absence of love. Evil is the absence of divine goodness. This is much easier than we think!

To banish darkness, turn on a light! To destroy hatred, give love! To annihilate evil, spread the goodness of God! Don't let life's disappointments or complete changes of heart extinguish your natural positivity, love, and beauty.

I know it can be challenging. My husband and I separated for a period of time thirteen years ago. It was eye-opening. I resented him so much and had so much anger that I almost let it destroy our family. But now, thirteen years later, after weathering many a storm, I just want to say that a lot of marriages that have ended might have been saved if  the people involved only knew that all the fighting, unhappiness, and changes are all growing pains; the growing pains of a marriage. It's the reason our grandparents and some of our parents were married for 30, 40, or 50 years. Because they got it. If an individual must grow and change with the times, so must a marriage.

I can't save my friends' marriage now. I wouldn't want to if I could because that's not my job; it's theirs if they so choose. But for all of you whom are still married, happily or otherwise, please know that it can always get better if both people decide to make it so. Simply grab on to something positive and crush the hell out of that negative.

Until next time...

Feed on love; subsist on peace.

Mrs. Hyde

For those of you who've read my Project Mom post, you know that I have a Jekyll and Hyde personality. I've been that way my whole life. When I was younger, having naturally been drawn to psychology and its dissection of the human mind, I was convinced I had Multiple Personality Disorder. There was the regular me who was loving, kind, and helpful. The me who had a deep compassion for the plight of mankind. Then there was the me who wanted to do mean, nasty, vengeful things to people who hurt me. I'm not talking the normal things that might go through a young child's mind who was bullied at school. I had elaborate, tortuous ideas. They scared the hell out of me. So much so that I never told anyone about them and I had assured myself that allowing others to treat me badly was the right thing to do. Who knows what would have happened if I had defended myself.

I grew up afraid of anger. My anger. I would hold it in and avoid it and ignore it until one day the dam would burst and unbridled rage would spew forth like a river. And I couldn't control it. I would be somewhere deep inside myself, screaming at myself to stop. Stop! For the love of God, stop! Before someone gets hurt. But there was no stopping until all the rage was gone. It had to leave on its own because I didn't have the power to do it myself. 

A couple years after I gave birth to my first son, I gained what I perceived to be control over my anger. I would take deep breaths, count to ten...and then pretend I wasn't angry. It worked for about five years. When I commit to something, I go all the way. Then about nine months after my youngest child was born, it just stopped working. Just like that. Whatever could have happened? You mean to tell me that holding in your emotions and pretending they don't exist doesn't work? 

My OB/GYN thought I was suffering from postpartum depression. Maybe I was at the time. I did try to commit suicide by CO poisoning. There wasn't anything particularly stressful or painful happening in my life. One day after a blizzard I just thought, "I'll go run the car for awhile," knowing full well that the tailpipe was clogged with snow. I was sitting there in a minivan slowly filling with poisonous gas thinking how I didn't even say goodbye to my kids, when I looked out the rear view mirror and saw my husband trying his best to run in four feet of snow. He saved my life and I told him I forgot you were supposed to clear the snow away before letting the car run. 

I conveniently deleted that incident from my conversation with my doctor later on. When she realized that the fits of rage seemed to coincide with my monthly spike in hormones, she diagnosed me with PMDD, Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder. I grabbed on to that excuse and held on for dear life. Now I have reason for being angry! I can be as big a bitch as I want and it's okay because I have PMDD! She tried giving me anti-depressants. They didn't work. She tried herbal supplements. Didn't even make a dent. Did I forget to tell her that this little problem started long before monthly hormone spikes were an issue?

I know you're looking for a nice, neat happy ending, but there is none. I still struggle with this issue. What's worse is that I see the same thing happening in my youngest son; he's afraid to express his anger.  I've tried telling him that it's okay to express your anger as long as its done in a healthy way. We've sat down and come up with healthy alternatives to holding in one's anger. But how can I expect him to do something that I have trouble doing myself? My excuse is that he's young. He's only got ten years of re-training to do. Ten years is a piece of cake! I can do ten years standing on my head.

I'm really not that delusional. I know he's mimicking my behavior. And it doesn't help that his dad can be a hothead at times. We're all works-in-progress. God isn't through with us yet. But there is no time like the present for change.

Here's one thing I'm trying. As it turns out, blogging has proven to be very therapeutic. So I've created an "angry" blog in addition to this (hopefully!) helpful one. It's called "A Bitch Called Mom." Clever, right? In this blog I can say any mean, nasty thing I want. I can be bitchy and whiny and ugly and unreasonable and I don't care who has something to say about it. It's uncensored and mean and probably offensive. AND, this is the important part, it helps. I find that every time I blog when I'm angry, it calms me down. That's something that anti-depressants, herbal tea, or red wine couldn't accomplish. Maybe because once I've gotten it off my chest and expressed it in a healthy way, I can then take a step back, see things for what they really are and react accordingly.

What a novel idea! Somebody should have thought of this sooner.

Until next week,

Feed on love; subsist on peace.