Giving Thanks, Taking More

Image credit: Suzanne Kreiter—The Boston Globe/Getty Images

Fun little fact, I was born on Thanksgiving Day. If you follow my blog, you know that I have complicated feelings about holidays and Thanksgiving is no different. Surely, I had a touch of bitterness about some years when a birthday candle was stuck in a pumpkin pie and I didn't get to to choose my own birthday cake or how unfair it seemed that some other kids had summer birthdays and got to celebrate with a pool party. But those childhood disappointments are long gone. As an adult, my disdain for Thanksgiving has to do with the violent origin of the holiday, forced gratitude, and overconsumption. 

By now, I think we are all clear on the true history of Thanksgiving and the violent way European settlers arrived and took over occupied land. (If not, you can read more here: https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/thanksgiving-myth-and-what-we-should-be-teaching-kids-180973655/).  It's really a celebration of white people taking something that wasn't theirs and glossing over it as an accomplishment. It’s actually quite embarrassing now that I have a better understanding of history. Both from a standpoint of falling for the whitewashed version of the story and for how I perpetuated it when I was a younger educator. I don’t think it’s possible we’ll ever end the tradition of celebrating Thanksgiving in the US but the older I get and the more I learn, the more uncomfortable I feel about it. 

A reasonable argument to keep the tradition of Thanksgiving would be to have a focused time of gratitude, some people even use the whole month to center all they are thankful for in life. And I think this is lovely, I really do. But how many times have you been at a family dinner, an office party, or other social gathering, where someone says “why don’t we go around and each say something we are thankful for?” When in the history of forced traditions, has this created a new lens of thankfulness? Of course we are all grateful for our family, and friends, and health, and each other, and so on. The practice doesn’t create gratitude, we’re all saying same damn things and crossing our fingers we say the right cliché response. But even more than this irritating truth, why, out of 365 days in a year, are we choosing just 1 to be grateful? What is happening on the other 364 that we need that kind of moral check up on each other? 

Well, I think that answer is clear in the 37 “Black Friday” emails I’ve gotten this week. And I’m lowballing. We can’t resist the urge to consume, even on a day we are intentionally slowing down to be grateful for what we have. This isn’t a new take on the conflicting notion of Thanksgiving and Black Friday but it certainly can’t be overlooked here. 

Thanksgiving has become a day of pause for me in other ways. To think about history, what I think I understand and focus on where I need to be asking more questions. To consider the traditions in my family and how our values align with our actions throughout the year. Not to be morally superior, simply to lean in and to ask myself big questions that require introspection that might be a little uncomfortable. 

Why do we have a day dedicated to giving thanks, that is truly about taking more? 

For you

 

Image credit: www.passiton.com

In a recent YouTube video by Black Eyed Peas and Jennifer Hudson remaking "The Love", they include powerful messages of what's on the ballot in 3 days: 

Indigenous rights are on the ballot. 

Compassion is on the ballot. 

Ending poverty is on the ballot. 

Science is on the ballot. 

Democracy is on the ballot. 

Justice is on the ballot.

You can watch this powerful video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jk7LPpY8pXM

I've watched this video multiple times as people in my Facebook feed have shared and re-shared it numerous times in the past 2 weeks. Each time I watch it, my eyes fill up with tears, my throat gets a little tight, and my heart aches. Because I see myself in those messages, I see people I love in those messages, and I see my values in those messages. 

I've had a lot of anxiety going into this election. Way more than ever before and I think that's true for many people. When I think about what's at stake, I think about my reproductive rights, my voice as a woman, the safety of our black friends, legal rights for my friends in same-sex marriages, the rights of my trans and non-binary friends, the environment, the pandemic, immigrant rights, our education system, and more. 

It's not just the rights  and safety of individual people and marginalized groups. It's not just science and education and a sustainable future. It's not just figuring out how to survive and rebound from a global pandemic. It's the dignity of our nation, the unity we used to feel in collective freedom and pride, a shared vision for a better future for our children and their children. 

The last 4 years have destroyed our country. We were never perfect. But we have become even more divided and fueled by hate. We fell for the lies and the false promise of success and equality through capitalism. We have let white supremacy, prejudice, and elitism speak louder than science, social justice, and compassion. 

What's on the ballot for me is a future based on love, equity, and a regard for others even if they are different than us. Separation of church and state is on the ballot for me. Trusting science is on the ballot for me. Moving forward is on the ballot for me. Fighting back is on the ballot for me. Not being silenced is on the ballot for me. 

What's on the ballot for you? 

By Your Scars

There’s a classic story about a father teaching his son a lesson about anger and the permanent damage we can do with our words. It’s called “The Fence”. You probably know it but in case you don’t, here it is:

There was boy who had a bad temper, struggling to control his hurtful words and actions. 

His father gave the boy a bag of nails and told him every time he lost his temper, he must hammer a nail into their wood fence. 

The first day, the boy had driven 37 nails into the fence. Over the next few weeks, 

he discovered that it was easier to hold his temper than to drive those nails into the fence. 

As he learned to control his anger, the number of nails hammered daily gradually dwindled down. 

Finally the day came when the boy didn't lose his temper at all. 

His dad now had him remove one nail for each day that he controlled his temper. 

It took months, one by one, removing a nail for each day but finally all of the nails were gone.  

The father took his son by the hand, led him to the fence and said, "You have done well. But look at the holes in the fence. They fence will never be the same. When you say things in anger, they leave a scar, just like this one. You can put a knife in a man and draw it out. 

It won't matter how many time you say "I'm sorry", the wound is still there.

-Anonymous 

 

This story of course has a great lesson about the long term impact we can have when we are reckless with our words and actions. Even if we feel bad, apologize, and are forgiven, some scars will always remain. 

But this story also provides a metaphor with the damaged fence representing a damaged person. And while we should definitely be careful with one another, the scars we bear become who we are. They are our stories and what makes us unique. We don't see each other as polished pieces of wood, each alike and flawless. We fit together with our friends, chosen family, and partners by the way they see and tend to our scars.  The way they make space for our heartaches, hold our pain, and look straight in the eye of our adversity and don't look away. 

I know you have your scars. 

I know the places it hurts. 

I don't wish those parts of you away. 

I know you by your scars. 

Proving it

Photo credit: www.LeanInLiveEngaged.com

I pass this rock on my walk each day. At first glance I saw:  "Black Lives Matter. Silence = Violence".  Yes! So proud to see this in my community. But when I got closer I could see what you likely noticed right away: the red spray paint is not for emphasis, it is actually painting over the word "Black" with "All". And it kinda seems like someone else came back and used red paint to highlight the "C" and "K" to make the original message stand out again. There are a lot of messages here. Let's break it down. 

The initial message of "Black Lives Matter" is important and powerful. It is a constant reminder to walkers, cyclists, and drivers passing by that justice has not yet been served for the many black men and women killed at the hands of the police and also represents the general marginalization of black people. For many, this elicits fury at systemic racism, inequalities, and a lack of sufficient response from our community leaders. 

But someone else came along and had some feelings about Black people getting (appropriate) attention for the issues at hand, stomped their feet, pouted, and despite not being in danger at all at the given time thought, "But what about me?!" They decided they were going to make sure that people heard their stomp and saw their pathetic pout in the form of red spray paint taking over someone else's message. 

But here's all it did: this person with the red spray paint actually PROVED the historical issue with the power imbalance perpetuated by white privilege and white fragility. What could be a better analogy for the history of our country than black people having a message to share and a white person getting their feelings hurt and trying to cover it up. 

So, to the pouty, red spray painter, thank you for your public reminder of why the Black Lives Matter movement is so important. The message is clear. White fragility is strong and bold and continues to attempt to silence the messages of marginalized groups. Your actions prove it. But see how the initial message still holds strong? Black individuals and communities and their allies have had enough. 

I hope this rock stays this way. I hate that someone felt the need to attempt to take over and distract from someone else's message. But supporters of the Black Lives Matter have been screaming that they are tired of being silenced and that silencing is real. This rock is just proving it.  

Things that are true

One of my career highlights is writing a book on conflict with a good friend of mine. We have spent years diving into the research and human behavior involved in conflict. And despite the, what we think are excellent strategies for engaging in and resolving conflict, we still find ourselves in the midst of emotion-fueled confusion with other humans at times. How can we be so good at this yet still stumble our way through it? For starters, we are all human. We are social beings with complex thoughts and feelings and we are all uniquely different which inherently means we will sometimes disagree. 

Last week at work, I found myself in a fairly tense conversation with someone who works in the grounds department responsible for the property my building is on. We both made several attempts to explain our perspective but they simply didn't align. I finally threw my hands up and calmly said, "we are both saying things that are true." I was simply asking for a truce. What you're saying is right. And what I'm saying is right too. We just hadn't yet discovered the overlap of those truths where the mystery of the situation existed. 

My colleagues who overheard the discussion have brought up my peace offering statement multiple times, "We are both saying things that are true." It was such a powerful pause to allow us to see we are not against each other, we simply haven't figured out how to make space for both truths. And I've started to think about where this conundrum exists in other parts of my life or the broader society. 

You can love your country and want better for it. 

You can believe science and still be confused by it. 

You can support our leaders and still be frustrated by their decisions. 

Masks can be uncomfortable and keep people safe and healthy. 

School can be essential but also risky. 

You can be faithful to your religion and let someone else live by theirs.

You can speak your truth and respect the truth of others. 

The remarkable outcome of speaking these truths together, at the same time, and making room for both (or many) is that the emotional intensity of defending your perspective falls away. When there isn’t a risk of not being seen, it’s easier to pause and see the perspectives you were previously overlooking. In any situation there is not just one but many things that are true. 

Just a bonus

Here's me. March 2019, a week before I gave birth to T and July 2020. A full 75 pound difference. 

I feel amazing. And let’s be honest, I look pretty amazing. 

But this isn’t about the way I look. 

What you can’t see is the hypothyroidism, high cholesterol, and pre-diabetes. 

I’ll be 40 next year. I’m just trying to live longer. Looking good on the outside is just a bonus. 

And I won’t lie to you, I’ve put so much time into eating, exercising, researching, accountability. I've quite literally worked my ass off.

I'm most successful using apps, engaging in challenges, checking in with other people on the same healthy path, and probably annoying everyone around me by talking about fitness all the time. 

But honestly, the hard work starts now. Maintaining these habits and the internal health. And remembering why I’m working so hard. It’s not vanity. It’s because I have an amazing husband and two sweet kids who deserve as much time with me as possible. 

Looking good can be a great motivator when we can't see what is happening on the inside of our bodies. But what's happening on the inside is what keeps us alive, looking good is just a bonus. 

What do you like about yourself?

Image credit: www.wayfair.com 

With a background in early childhood education and raising two children of my own in a moderately contentious and complicated society, I think a lot about social skills and social-emotional development. With young children, it is easy to see their physical development and hear their language development. But social emotional development often occurs in outbursts or in response to difficult situations. While there are some moments children express their internal self-reflection and dialogue, we don't get as many displays of self-esteem, self-identity, and confidence. 

I got to wondering about my eldest's opinion of himself and how we can balance developing a positive self-image in him that isn't arrogant or exaggerated. So I asked him a few questions like, "what do you think you're good at?", "what do you like about the way you look?", and "what do you like about yourself?". He answered with some typical six-year-old answers. "I'm good at kicking a ball, speaking Spanish, reading some books on my own. I like my hair and my blue eyes. I'm helpful, funny, and smart." And so on. 

But then he surprised me and turned the conversation around, asking me what I'm good at, what I like about the way I look, and what I like about myself. 

I couldn't answer. 

My mind raced but my mouth was frozen. 

I'm good at writing... but I'm not creative, I write research-based content in my field. 

I'm good at running.... but so many people are faster and stronger than me and I've never run a full marathon. 

I have a nice smile... but my teeth are a little crooked and that one girl in 9th grade said I had weird lips. 

I'm kind... but sometimes I hurt other people's feelings. 

I'm smart.... but not that smart, I didn't even get into an elite or ivy league college. 

My thoughts continued this way until my eyes filled with tears. 

I couldn't think of one thing that felt completely true. 

As soon as an idea popped up in my mind, I shot it down. With evidence that it couldn't possibly be true. 

And even if I tried to silence those negative voices in my head, no matter what I said, surely the people closest to me would know I was a fraud. 

This is not indicative of a lack of positive qualities but rather a lack of positive self-image and self-esteem. I was worried about my son's confidence but it was me who needed to break the cycle of self-deprecation and striving for unattainable concepts of "perfection". Decades of airbrushed magazines, academic competition, and unhealthy comparisons had tainted my ability to see my strengths without adding disclaimers that negated any quality I was describing. 

I genuinely didn't know it would be so hard to say kind things about myself. Or that I would worry so much that people around would focus on the exception rather than the general presence of a positive quality. I needed practice speaking kindly to myself. And believing the kind things other people say to me. 

So we took turns answer these questions about each other. Each of us stating what we liked about the others, what they are good at, and what we found attractive about them. It was so easy for me to rattle off long lists about the other people, never doubting the amazing qualities about them.

And then I listened carefully when they said kind things about me. 

I desperately wanted to argue with them and prove they were wrong. 

But I didn't. I listened and let my mind absorb the overwhelming positive qualities my family sees in me that I can't see in myself. 

I'm guessing I'm not the only one who is their own worst critic. And in someways I think it has pushed me to always be reflective, and do better, and be humble. But it hurt to think that I couldn't even model for my son what it sounds like to love oneself. 

Try this out. Spend a few moments with your thoughts. Make space to speak kindly. Consider how your loved ones would describe you. Avoid the disclaimer. Forget the unattainable idea of perfection. 

What do you like about yourself? 

That's what I thought!

Image credit: www.LeanInLiveEngaged.com 

"Wearing a mask is stupid."

"Masks save lives!"

"Masks kill people."

"Wearing a mask takes away my freedom."

"Wearing a mask is a simple step in preventing the spread of illness."

"I'm healthy, I don't need a mask."

"You choosing not to wear a mask is an attack against me."

WOW. 

I don't know about you but my social media feed is filled with bold statements, people that are certain they are right, yet their perspective conflicts with the next person's bold, certain statement. This is always true, I think, but the above examples are pulled from the oh-so-tired mask debate in the time of COVID-19. People state with absolute conviction their stance on wearing a mask. On one hand, this makes sense, each person's social media feed is theirs - it should reflect what that person believes. One the other hand, what damage is done when people spread inaccurate information? And why would smart, well-meaning people spread less-than-accurate information that could harm others? Can conflicting statements each hold some truth? 

Confirmation Bias and Fear

Thanks to the internet, there is an endless amount of ideas that can be published and shared. That doesn't mean it is all good or accurate. But it does mean that you can find nearly anything to back up what you want to believe. You can search and search until you find the article or video that allows you to exhale and say "That's What I Thought!"  Confirmation Bias at it's best. Or absolute worst. 

COVID-19 has had some terrifying effects on communities around the world and in no way does the US have it under control. In fact our numbers are rising at a shocking rate. This is very reasonably causing fear in a lot of people. This kind of fear can be eased with information. 

But most often, people aren't looking for accurate information, they are looking for the information they want to hear. Me included. I'm a mask wearer and I've binged on proof that masks are important while we fight through this pandemic. I need to believe that I can actively take steps to protect myself, my family, and my community. It's calming to me to think I'm doing my part. 

The trouble with acting through confirmation bias is that you cognitively put blinders between yourself and the information you don't want, that quite possibly might hold some important truth. Not that you don't see it in someone else's feed, you're just unwilling to make space for it in your processing. 

Blind Spots 

We all have blind spots, whether they are from blinders we unconsciously put up or simply because it is impossible to know everything. Regardless, our brains do very cool things and fill in those blind spots for us based on all the contextual information we have. 

Here's a useful example of how it works: 

When we are driving, we can't see through solid parts of our car like the frame or trunk but our brain fills in the edges of the road so it isn't processed as a mystery. We can know the road still exists even if it is temporarily blocked by the frame of the car. 

The downside is that sometimes there is information we don't have. 

Here's an example of how our brain fills a blind spot but can put us or others at risk: 

Sometimes our brain gets it wrong and there is more than just the edge of the road in our blind spot, sometimes there is another car or a motorcycle but because our brain has filled in the missing bits of road, we don't perceive the other motorist and can cause an accident.

Makes sense, right? We can use information we have to fill in visual fields, make inferences, and apply existing knowledge to new situations. That can be really useful but sometimes that process is faulty, it's why we need to look twice and not just settle with the information we first processed. 

 Ok, let's apply this blind spot process to our situation in COVID-19. 

Remember when we didn't initially wear masks? 

Or when doctors thought ventilators where the best treatment for every patient? 

Remember when we thought children couldn't get sick? 

Or asymptomatic people couldn't get others sick? 

Blind spots or limiting ourselves to current or even expired information can cause harm. We must look twice. The ability to accommodate new information, shift our thinking, and modify our actions is crucial. 

Your buddy from high school

Not really the point of my post but while we are here, let's just put this out there. Do not subscribe to everything your buddy from high school posts. Science is not a popularity contest. It's not waiting to see what most people from your high school graduating class, or your neighborhood, or your job think. Just because someone you like posted something you agree with, does not mean it is credible. 

It is possible that your buddy is a doctor. Or that he vetted his sources. And you definitely should too. But avoid falling in the "everybody thinks so" trap that really just means everyone is operating with the same confirmation bias and blinders. 

Challenge yourself

It's hard to think critically. It's hard to admit that you used to be right, but information changed and now you're not right anymore. It's hard to risk fear and let go of the safety of being right. It's hard to own the reality of "That's What I Thought!" mindsets can be dangerous.  

Often there is some truth that overlaps with our opinions but that space often omits the full truth. Similarly, just because a small portion of our opinions can be validated by facts, that does not mean that everything we think is true and accurate, even on the same subject. 

Even if you find something that validates your thinking, go a step further. Challenge yourself to not only search for the content that affirms your idea but invest in seeking the rest. Don't rely on your blind spots. There is always more than we currently understand and our individual thinking is very rarely the full and accurate truth. What other angles should you consider? What perspectives are you overlooking? What are the sources of your information? Where else should you be looking? 

Someone Else: A reflection on loving a racist

(Image credit: PM Notes) 

I remember growing up and hearing my Grandpa say the n-word often. I knew it was a "bad word" but as a child I understood it as a bad word just like "shit", "fuck", or "bitch". Adults could say it but children couldn't. I didn't understand why it was bad or wrong. And I grew up with the implicit understanding that it was ok to get angry. Especially for men. Especially for white men. And when white men were angry they could say the n-word. 

I didn't understand the presence and performance of white supremacy, racism, and toxic masculinity in my upbringing until I was in my 20's. And it hit me hard. This post isn't about the answer or helping you figure out how to handle this in your life. This is merely my story and reflections. 

My Grandpa loved Notre Dame football, he traveled to Ireland regularly to study his ancestry, he walked several miles every day, he loved hanging in the pool, he played the harmonica, he had a deep voice that carried, and he loved beagles. All of these passions shaped my identity and show up in my day-to-day life. I loved him. Without question. He brought so much joy to our family. He contributed so much to who I am and who my family is as a collective group. 

There wasn't a single moment in which I realized he was racist. It came in waves of shock, questioning, shame, guilt, confusion, and feeling distraught. How could someone I love so dearly believe something so toxic, violent, and harmful? And a genuine question of what that says about me. If I believe so strongly in the worth of Black people, being anti-racist, fighting for social justice, and dismantling systems that perpetuate racial inequities, how could I be so blind to someone in my family who embodied the exact opposite of what I believe? Fundamental character flaw? Unconscious complacency? Am I just like him? Am I a fraud? 

My experience is not unique, I'm sure. I imagine there are many people facing familial ties that clash with their belief that Black lives matter and white privilege and white fragility exist. I'm sure like me, many people struggle in that situation. Both in how to address it in those relationships but also in how to process what that means about our own character. In the relationship with others, there are really only 3 (albeit simplified) options here: 

Ignore it. 

Cut this person out of your life. 

Confront them. 

Unfortunately for me, my grandpa is dead and has been for over a decade. I'm left with only being able to reflect on the above questions, confront the implicit bias in my family that still exists with other members, and to carefully explore where this explicit and implicit racism exists in my blood and seeps into my life. 

I'm embarrassed to admit that for many years I ignored the implicit and sometimes even the explicit racism that existed in my family. It was easier and I genuinely didn't understand how harmful it was. I didn’t recognize that ignoring it was part of my white privilege. And absolutely complicit in contributing to systems that continue to harm Black people. About 10 years ago I abandoned that approach of ignoring it. And cutting people out of my life isn't my style. So I started confronting racism as it surfaced in words and actions among my family members. But in order to do that I first had to confront how it showed up in my own words and actions. 

This wasn't easy. It was and is still exhausting, embarrassing, confusing, and at times overwhelming. I stumble and make mistakes. And it's hard to always see the implicit racism and microaggressions that I commit. Unlearning words and thoughts that have be habit for decades requires a lot of paying attention, reflecting, correcting, and not being afraid to continually make mistakes. I feel ashamed for the years I didn’t know better and for the years that felt like an acceptable excuse.  It’s hard to forgive myself. 

And I still can't come to terms with my Grandpa's view. The only understanding that I've gained is that racism runs deep. Through generations, ideologies, and is perpetuated by people within those systems who look away. I don't know that I've changed anyone else’s thinking. But I do know that with the people in my family whom I've confronted, our relationships are more authentic and I am more skilled at naming racism as it exists. My behaviors have changed. My words and thoughts have changed. And I understand a lot more about who I am, letting go of what I accepted as a child, and am raising my children with a different set of implicit and explicit values. 

I still shake my head in disgust and my heart breaks to know someone I loved so deeply carried a hate I can't fathom. I can only be vigilant in living my values and recognizing I have a chance to be someone different than who my Grandpa was. Despite my exposure and the intergenerational transmission, I can actively name and push back against the racism as it shows up in my life. Loving him will always feel complicated but for as many things as he and I have in common, greater is my opportunity, power, and commitment to be someone else. 

Just Start

White people, this is for you (and me). 

Anti-racism requires action, persistence, and humility. And it requires that you start. Right where you are, with your fragility and uncertainty and fear. Start by recognizing you are going to make mistakes. Just start. 

Following the surge of protests around the nation erupting from the murder of George Floyd by Minneapolis police officers, I observed many of my white friends wanting to join in the fight against racism, violence against Black people, and the system perpetuating injustices. But don't know how to get started. 

I encourage you to first embrace these ideas: 

1. Let go of the need to “do this right”. You will make mistakes. We all do. 
2. Avoid performative allyship. Keep the focus where it needs to be. Hint: it’s not on you. 
3. Listen. Make space for Black voices and pay attention. Resist the urge to chime in. Listen. 
4. Speak up. White silence is complicit, complacent, and compliant. This doesn't mean your voice should be loudest in public spaces. Start conversations with your family, friends, and colleagues. 
5. Educate yourself. Don’t lean on your Black friends to teach you. Listen when they speak, read what they write. But do your own work. 
6. Check your white fragility. This is going to be uncomfortable. Don’t put that on your Black friends. Process your feelings with a white friend. 
7. Don’t quit. You will likely feel tired, ashamed, overwhelmed or all of the above. Keep going anyway. 

Got all that?

Here are specific things you can do right now:

1. Read books by black authors.
2. Watch documentaries produced by Black people about the Black experience in the United States. 
3. Buy from Black owned businesses.
4. Explore your white privilege and white fragility. 
5. Donate to Black educators and activists.
6. Talk to your children about racism, slavery, white privilege, and social justice. 
7. Read books to your children that discuss the history of racism, the civil rights movement, and social justice. 
8. Write to your district and ask about their DEI initiatives. 
9. Ask your employer about their DEI initiatives. 
10. Follow Black activists and leaders on social media. 
11. Attend protests and demonstrations. 
12. Check on your Black friends. 
13. Give your Black friends some space. 
14. Bring up conversations of racism and white privilege with your friends and family. 
15. Consider on how white privilege shows up in your life. 
16. Reflect on how racism shows up in your actions and words. 
17. Vote.
18. Hold your elected officials accountable.
19. Join local activism groups.
20.  Sign petitions to demand justice for Black people wrongfully charged, incarcerated, or murdered by police. 
21. Resist the urge to get tired. 

This is a start. Do the work, and then repeat it. To be anti-racist is not a week of action or a day of action but a philosophical commitment to continuous action to fight racism and dismantle the system perpetuating it. Don't worry that it feels overwhelming. Don't worry about getting it right. Just start. 

Chasing Memories

My husband and I cuddle close on the king size bed with freshly pressed white sheets, and a fluffy down comforter. The warm, salty air swirls around us and rustles the sheer curtains draped around the balcony window. My skin is warm from soaking up the day's sun and my feet ache from the miles walked on the Pacific coast beach. My husband whispers something sweet in my ear and though it is indecipherable over the crashing ocean waves just feet away from where we snuggle, my heart flutters with infatuation. 

I shoot upright in bed and my heart races out of my chest. My eyes adjust to the darkness and I realize I am home in Michigan. The cool air rushes in through the window and my husband lies near me. We haven't traveled in 5 months. We are in quarantine. 

The bass of the music sets the tempo for my heartbeat and the sway of my hips. The cool citrus taste of my vodka soda with lime rushes over my tongue as I take the last sip. The cool New York night air rushes through my long wavy hair as I turn to my friend, K, as we laugh and dance and blow off the inviting glances of two men from the opposite side of the roof top bar. 

I'm covered in sweat and I'm back in my room. I'm shaking from the time hop and crushing reality. It has been more than 2 months since I have hugged a friend or danced in a bar. We are still in quarantine. 

The rickety, spinning ride swoops up and pauses briefly at the top and I catch a quick glimpse of the hundreds of peanut festival goers playfully scattering below. The ride quickly descends and my colleague shrieks with delight. Tears of laughter stream down our faces as the wind whips around us. We return safely to solid ground and laugh until we can't breathe. 

I gasp for air and throw the suffocating covers off of me. My eyes dart quickly around the room. There are no festivals, there is no work travel. We are in quarantine. 

My son rushes toward the water, buckets in one hand, a shovel in the other. He drops to his knees and begins to dig. I smile and  spread a blanket on the sand and open my book. His periodic giggles are my soundtrack. The early morning chill off the Atlantic ocean triggers goosebumps up and down my arms and legs. 

Chills cover my body as I reach for the covers and tuck myself back in from yet another startling wake up into life in quarantine. 

In the daytime, I understand the reality of the pandemic. In the daytime, I can comprehend the new normal. In the daytime, I am grateful for all that we have and avoid clinging to what was. 

But in the nighttime, I chase memories. 

A man's job

Yesterday, my husband and I were discussing our Governor's decision and execution of orders put in place to protect people in the time of the COVID-19 outbreak. We are the kind of people that, for the most part, trust scientists, medical experts, and leaders to make these kinds of large-scale decisions based on information we don't have, that may impact a lot of people in ways we don't understand. It's not without scrutiny but we recognize the complexity that far reaches our limited experiences.

We further discussed the frequency of people in our state (as well as the current president of our country) to belittle our Governor on social media. Everything from her decision, to how it was communicated, to how she dresses. Someone even shared a photo from January 2019 and shamed her for being within 6ft of other people - a full year before social distancing was a thing. The disdain for her is evident and very rarely focuses on the big picture impact of the state. The criticism is specific, targeted, aggressive, and lacks perspective.

My husband pointed out this very insightful fact: men don't want to be told what to do by a woman. That's what it is. Misogyny in the 21st century. Men aren't mad about her doing her job. They are mad that she has the job. But is that archaic tension held just by men? Do women feel this way too? It's 2020 but are we simply unable to accept that women can do the same work as men?

Aside from our limited ability to skillfully pee standing up, I've never experienced a man demonstrate a skill or competency that woman couldn't also perform. Certainly, individual ability and performance varies but this has never been calculated down to specific amounts of estrogen or testosterone. There is certainly no shame in a woman not choosing a leadership role, just as there is not shame in a man respecting a woman in leadership.

Consider your thoughts. Have the gender-stereotyped, biblical roles of the past been ingrained in the way you think, live, and vote?

Deeply ingrained misogyny aside:

What is it about a woman that would make her less capable of leading a state or a country?
What is it about a man, would make him more capable of holding leadership positions?
What qualifications do women lack that prevent them from holding a man's job?

Who's Invited to the Lifeboat?

When fear spikes, when people cry out, when the ship starts to sink, who's in the lifeboats?

Did you even realize there were lifeboats or were you too busy trying not to drown? 

Was it invitation only? 

Who's invited to the lifeboats when things go wrong? 

When the Coronavirus pandemic hit the United States, we were delivered a message of "we're all in this together". If we all stayed home, followed executive orders,  and sheltered in place, we would all be safer and better off in the long run. But that's not exactly how it happened. Many people could stay home. Because they had the option and resources to work from home. They had substantial savings and assets to rest back on financially. They had food and could afford delivery services. When they needed to go out, they had reliable personal transportation and protective gear. They had support systems, resources, and safety nets. They managed to stay afloat when things got rocky. 

All of this rested on the most vulnerable in our population: the people who were already at risk of financial, emotional, and economical destruction without a life preserver in sight. This has looked like: low-wage employees continuing to go to work with out protective gear or paid sick time so the rest of society could continue to have grocery stores, delivery services, mail service, and more. They relied on public transportation, they brought the risk of the virus home to their families and overcrowded communities. They struggled. And that's best case scenario if they got to keep their jobs and had substantial child care. 

It feels necessary to point out, among the front line workers are the absolutely essential medical staff. They are putting their lives at risk every single day. And our communities would be in even greater devastation if it were not for them. There are a few major differences here from the at-risk community. For many front line medical workers, they received substantial emergency sick leave if they become ill with COVID-19, they are offered separate living spaces from their family if they become ill, and they have high lifetime earning potential. There is no question about how awful things are for them right now. But when this is over, for a vast majority of them, they will be able to afford therapy to cope emotionally, they will take their families on vacations to relax and reconnect, and their financial livelihood won't suffer, now or for years to come. 

But for many of our most vulnerable, this will be years, decades, potentially even generations of financial and emotional devastation. A stimulus check will not bring loved ones back. A new job making minimum wage does not reverse an eviction or repair a credit score that suffered from months of unemployment. Thoughts and prayers will not make space for them in the lifeboats. 

For them, their plight was years in the making. This is not a sudden circumstance of inequity. This is systemic patterns of keeping the poor, poor. Of marginalizing people of color. Of resting on the weakest to keep the most powerful afloat. Of carefully worded propaganda to maintain the imbalance of access to resources and opportunity. A country built on some, taking advantage of many.

The lifeboats were always there. The invitations went out a long time ago. If you weren't on the guest list, it's sink or swim.

Watch the people in the lifeboat.
See them waving as they head off on their voyage of privilege, safety, and opportunity.
Smiling with pity.
Grateful for your sacrifice. Your struggle. Your dollar. Your vote.

Are you paying attention? Who's invited to the lifeboat?

Caution: Hazard Ahead

Image credit: www.pixabay.com

Feeling short of breath? Feeling tightness in your chest? Is that coronavirus or stress or anxiety? Most people in our country right now are feeling some sort of anticipation around what's to come. But what exactly is the hazard head of us? And just how close is it? 

What are we so afraid of? 

There's a lot to keep us up at night. The threat of a lung-attacking virus, the rapid decline of our previously thriving economy, running out of supplies, children missing out on months of school, the constant social media bickering/shaming/bragging/joking, eating our way into a deep state of depression, the list goes on. And the biggest question of all is likely, how long is this going to last?  

The most consuming stress is not that any of the above things could happen - many of them are already happening. The overwhelming stress comes from not knowing. For the most part we can manage difficulty but our brain is relentless in trying to define, predict, and control what is happening. 

Brain states

On our best days, our brains toggle between thinking and feeling. This is important as we are a highly evolved and social species. We need both parts to function well as individuals and together as a society. And when danger looms, this is an essential response system that triggers quick processing to keep us safe, but also elicits big feelings that can sometimes feel out of control.

When the emotional part of our brain takes over, we struggle to think logically. This can skew our processing of a threat, activate big emotional responses, and increase our physical responses to stress. Those big emotions you're feeling are real, and so is the physical response. You're in a survival state and it's meant to protect you, even if it feels uncomfortable to be there.

Another aspect of our brains that we can't fight: our need to feel we are in control even when we aren't. This makes it difficult for us to sometimes recognize that we are in a survival state. Of course it's clear when we are crying, explicitly discussing our fears, or taking actions that mitigate the factors causing our stress. But there are other ways that we embody the effects of the survival state too.

Some of the signs are more attributable: being more short tempered, struggling to sleep, stress eating, and so on. But some are harder to correlate to looming stress. Among these are an increased need to be productive, doing these to make others feel good (more typically a need to make ourselves feel good), and oversharing on social media (seeking connection, needing to be seen).

Again, all of these responses are typical and real. So it's okay to be in your feelings a bit. Just don't sign a lease and get too cozy there. 

Long term

For the most part, our when our brains respond to stress, it's short term: processing immediate threat, and responding quickly with a priority on our immediate safety. Eventually our brain and our body return to a normal state. These kinds of response and recovery cycles are healthy to a point (also called tolerable stress).

But one of the big risks in our current situation is that this might not be short term. When we have prolonged exposure to a threat (toxic stress or trauma) the physical effects and long-term impact is significant, it actually rewires our brains and through epigenetics has an multi-generational impact. We've seen this with other historical trauma most notably slavery and the holocaust.

The long term risk for us at the given moment comes with the duration of ill health, lack of access to food, insufficient health care and medical resources, unemployment, and so on. Layered on this is the impact of new and pre-existing conditions of anxiety and depression.

What we are seeing now is that all classes of people around the world are being impacted by this complex historical event. But, at greatest risk are the already at-risk people in our community, our front-line workers, people without social safety nets; the people who have been at the bottom and are increasingly marginalized in this scenario. The threat of our current situation for certain groups is intense, traumatic, and potentially fatal. 

More on this in my next post: "Who's invited to the lifeboat?"

I Will Not

Image credit: www.vecteezy.com 

I will not.

I will not suffer through this pandemic.

I will not...
                  ...succumb to sadness

                  ...linger on things that aren't happening right

                  ...fear what I do not know

                  ...wallow in self-loathing

                  ...struggle alone

                  ...try to convince myself that my feelings aren't real

                  ...get caught up in other people's struggles

                  ...take for granted my privileges

                  ...drown in my anxious thoughts

                  ...dwell on wishing this wasn't happening
           
                  ...revert to unhealthy or dangerous coping strategies

                  ...forget that people still need me to show up for them

                  ...waste this opportunity to slow down

                  ...feel the pressure to accomplish something

                  ...judge others for how the handle uncertainty

                  ...abandon my values

                  ...let this temporary be my permanent

I will not let something out of my control, control me.

I will not be shaken.

I will not.

Puzzling

When my 30-year-old sister-in-law died unexpectedly, my husband, son, and I met a few other close family members at a remote lake house in South Carolina where we spread her ashes. We spent a few days there, no cell service, no internet, just us and our feelings.

We found ourselves spending most of our time huddled over a complex jigsaw puzzle. I don't even remember what the image was but I remember how consumed by it I was. We didn't talk, we just worked away at noticing common details in color and line, examining the shape of pieces, and silently delighting when we made a match.

In our current state of quarantine, we again find ourselves drawn to jigsaw puzzles. Things are significantly more chipper than the above mentioned memory but I realized there are some pretty strong parallels.

I found this, well, quite puzzling.

What is it about big feelings and despair that draws me to jigsaw puzzles?

It gives us something to do. A way to pass the time. Helps prevent our minds from lingering on the hurt, confusion, and uncertainty. It requires just enough mental engagement to avoid getting caught in our feelings.

They are predictable. We know how it's going to end. It's going to end how it is supposed to. Complete, with everything in it's place.  it is something can control. We can decide where to start, what to work on next, what to save for last. The end result is the same and we can count on that but we also get to choose how we get there. Quite the opposite when dealing with grief or anxiety or depression.

It requires patience. Despite the control and predictability we are afforded, puzzles also require an immense amount of patience. There is no short cut. There is no way to rush the process. Much like dealing with big emotions. There's no way to jump to the end, we just have to give it time and attention here and there.

How do you spend your time when you're alone with your feelings?

We Are Not Brave

Image Credit: www.quotefancy.com 

I don't provide direct care to patients with COVID-19, I am the director at a child care center that provides care for the children of doctors treating COVID patients. Ever since the executive order to close non-essential businesses and stay home, my child care center has remained open and to provide care for hospital employees.

Everyday we get real time updates from the front lines - both the increasing intensity and the reassuring systems in place to protect people.

There is an amount of reassurance in having updates right from the source. But it is never lost on us what being that close to the action also means.

We recognize our increased risk of exposure. We recognize our increased likelihood of getting sick. We recognize the likelihood of one of the parents or child in our center community getting sick. And in all of that, the possibility of death, for us or someone we care about.

Despite all this, my teachers show up every single day. And they are playful, and loving, and truly present.

But let's be so clear, coming to work everyday is not an act of bravery. But we are not cowards.

Our sense of social responsibility is strong.
We understand how crucial it is for children to go through this uncertainty with familiarity and love.
We're heading out into the world to do our part to minimize the horrifying impact of this virus on our future.

Every single day when I wake up I have to remind myself that this is real.
People are getting sick.
People are dying.

I'm aware of the risk for me. For my two young children and my husband.
I'm scared every single day.
At least once a week I cry all the way home from work.

It's hard for me everyday to ask my teachers to keep coming to work, knowing they are afraid, knowing the risk is real.

But I do ask. And they do show up.

We are not brave, but we are not cowards. We just know this is bigger than us.

I wish I had your struggle

Remember that saying, "your trash is another person's treasure"? This is true now more than ever. The idea is not that there are a bunch of people waiting to pick through your garbage. It means that something you have right now could be quite valuable to someone else, even if it irks you.

I've been thinking about this a lot as we are quarantined and I'm spending far too much time on social media. Of course people are stressed. Of course it feels good to vent. Of course your feed should be filled with accurate reflections of what you think and how you feel.

But before you publicly post that next complaint, consider this:

• When your kids are driving you crazy because you're all stuck in the house together, someone else wishes they could be at home with their kids. 
• When you dread going to work, someone else wishes they had a job. 
• When you feel cooped up in your house. someone else wishes they had a safe place to stay. 
• When your partner/roommate gets on your nerves, someone else wishes they didn't live alone. 
• When you get annoyed about having to work from home, someone else wishes they had the resources to work from home. 
• When you or your child has to miss their birthday celebration, someone else is dying in a hospital from this virus and will have no more birthdays. 
• When you vent about your vacation getting cancelled and you're forced to stay home, someone else wishes they had the option to stay home and avoid exposure. 
• When you complain about your favorite restaurant being closed, someone else wishes they had enough food. 

This isn't a pompous reminder to be grateful for all you have. Of course you are grateful for what you do have. And you are entitled to feel frustration and temporary disappointment for certain. This is just a gentle caution to consider your audience when you express what irks you right now. Someone might read your struggle and wish it was theirs.

It's Fine

credit: https://giphy.com/explore/im-fine-thanks

In the past week, schools have closed, businesses have shut down, basic supplies are hard to find, we are restricted from gathering... and so much more. A lot of people are struggling with anxiety and depression. And that makes a lot of sense. This is hard to process and we don't know what is going to happen next.

My life is effected in several specific, immediate ways and the potential duration and severity of this situation could have many negative impacts. But I don't feel anxious or depressed at all. I feel calm, optimistic and energetic. I didn't think much of this at first. Maybe I'm just one of the lucky ones that is naturally resilient!

And then this week, Vicki Peterson of The Mighty wrote an article called "Feeling Calm in the Midst of the Coronavirus Pandemic Might be a Trauma Response". Oh. Damn. That's why this feels ok. I have so much practice carrying on when things are falling apart around me. My brain is actually wired differently.

I had a lot of feelings reading this article.

First, how lucky I am to have so much trauma that I can rally through a pandemic! Wait, lucky? That seems kinda messed up. I've never fault grateful for my trauma. But now, I can see how my resilience can be a gift in difficult situations. I am around a lot of people that are struggling right now. Remaining calm has allowed me to gather information, organize people, and make plans to help others.

Second, it hurts to be so seen. Every time my past trauma is brought into my current reality, it stings a little. This article was hard to read because it is right. I forget that little life stresses feel big to me and huge issues seem like a breeze. That's not normal. I've known for a long time that I'm most comfortable when things are a mess and life feels dysfunctional. I get anxious when things are good.

Third, a key point in this article is the eventual crash. Some day, it will knock me over all at once. But what I know from my past is that it probably won't happen this week, or this month, or even this year. It's like to happen years from now when I'm explaining to my children what it was like to live through this time, when I out loud admit all the hard parts, they will fall like pieces into one complete puzzle and I won't be able to look away. That's when the crash will come.

In this moment, I'm not oblivious. I'm not brave or unusual. I've just been in enough dark places that help me embrace these truths:  I know that things are bad. I know that bad things often get worse. I also know it's possible to come out on the other side.

Don't say the C-word

You know the one. It's March 19th, 2020. You know the c-word we're all tired of hearing. It's kept us in our homes, children are out of school, there's a shortage on toilet paper. And no shortage of advice right now.

Don't take in too much social media. Stay on social media to be connected.
Don't feel like you have to be a teacher to your child. Be sure your child doesn't fall behind.
Don't go out into public. Keep going to work.
Don't fall for the hyped up media. Take this seriously.
Practice. Self. Care. Don't know what that is right now?

Here's my advice for you: Don't take my advice. Do you.

This is hard for all of us and what makes you feel better and able to function is going to be different.

For me:

I like information. It's soothing for me to understand what is happening.

I take walks every day. Even just 15 minutes. It feels good to breath and feel a sense of infinite space outside.

I play hard with my kids. We dance, we wrestle, we play board games. I run a child care center providing care to a major medical system. It is beyond stressful right now. I need to set it down for an hour and just be a mom.

I dance all the way to work to as loud and empowering music as I can find. Currently loving "Salt" by Ava Max and "Don't Start Now" by Dua Lipa.

I cry all the way home from work. Because the days are long. And it makes me feel good. And it would be so weird not to feel something right now.

I cuddle with my husband. We have had a great sex life for the 14 years we've been together. But right now this feels different. I know I'm not fully present for him due to my stress. But I also need the calm physical contact to bring me back into my body.

I take a shower every day and put on make up and wear cute shoes and my favorite accessories. Because when I show up fully and fabulous, I don't feel like so much is being taken from me.

Naming these things that are providing me comfort and relief helped me realize I don't need anyone else's list of how to squeeze in a gratitude FB post every day, vigorous exercise, write a note to 5 people, and so on. If that's your list, good, keep doing it.

And if it helps you, don't say the c-word. But if it does help, feel free to say all the c-words right now.

Stealing Time

The older I get, the faster time seems to go. My children are growing up too fast, I'm planning writing projects and college semesters well into my forties but I'm still in my thirties, and every now and then I look at my parents and wonder when they got so old.

Time is one thing we have absolutely no control over but our perception can sometimes be skewed - the hard times seem to last forever and sometimes we get so busy we barely remember time passing at all. But every now and then... we get those moments that linger. Where everything around us seems to stop and for just a moment, we can bottle up the magic and hold on tight. Every now and then... we get a chance to steal time.

Fire nights....

The day has been long, the kids fighting sleep, the to do list growing ever longer, and the alcohol in my glass never quite strong enough. The flames of the fire pit cast a warm heat on my body and a gentle light on my husband's face and his eyes glisten. Soft music plays in the background and he taps he foot to the slow tempo. He sings the sweet words at a barely audible level and his lips curl up a little at the edges and I know that he sees me. The summer nights will fade but the heat from the fire and his eyes keep me warm throughout the year. On the longest, coldest, hardest days of the year, he is with me, singing a soft sweet melody.

The voice of thunder...

The organ starts, hymnals open, deep breath in. His deep, low voice fills my ears, the space around us and my heart.  It's been more than 10 years since my Grandpa has passed away but I can hear his voice anywhere. In every church hymn, in every Christmas song, yelling at the TV on game day. I have yet to hear a sound that brings me such joy, such sadness, and deep affection as my Grandpa's voice. Each time he opened his mouth, I collected a little of his thunder to carry with me.

Midnight memories....

The baby cries again and I stumble blurry-eyed to his room and scoop him up into my arms. My neck aches from holding my head up and my eyelids hang heavy. But I catch a glimpse of his wispy hair flowing back and forth as we rock. His warm check against me as I nurse him. He crosses his feet and rubs my arm with his tiny little hand. Silence and darkness surrounds us. Not a single need for us except to be in this moment. I am oh so tired but also so eager to hold on to this precious embrace. I squeeze the time from each little second until he pulls away to settle back into his bed with his lovey.

What are the memories you hold in your heart, that you carry with you? The times when, just for a moment, you steal a little extra time and tuck it away?

Problem areas

I have stretch marks, periodic acne, jiggly upper arms, and a little belly lingering from my pregnancies. Social media and the fashion industries would tell you these are my “problem areas”. My social media feeds are filled with ads for anti-aging creams, gym memberships, shapewear, electrolysis, fake eyelashes, fad diets... the list goes on. Collective society and steadfast marketing firms target women with “solutions” to their “problem areas”. Just this cream or that undergarment will make any woman a little more perfect and a little more palatable to society. More desirable for marriage, for jobs, for opportunities, for the collective fawning over progress toward the unattainable image of the perfect woman. 

These are not our problem areas.

We have bigger problem areas that need to be addressed and talked about. 

Women’s bodies as objects. 

A rising teen suicide rate. 

Women being underpaid in the workforce. 

The under-acknowledged miracle of what a woman’s body does to bring life into the world.

Food insecurity. 

Blatant and systemic racism. 

Inadequate and inequitable access to health care. 

Our carbon footprint. 

International conflict and war. 

Climate change. 

Greed. 

Political divide. 

Poverty. 

Rising number of prescriptions for children to cope with anxiety and depression. 

These (and so much more) are our real problem areas. Women should not be the target of what’s not perfect in our world. Women deserve to believe they are good enough as they are. Bodies are strong and wonderfully different. If we put the same energy into solving our real problem areas as we do making women believe they aren’t good enough, the world would be a better place. 

And women could go about their business without believing their imperfect existence needs fixing. 

Thank you for your childhood

One of my very favorite books from my youth is "The Giver" by Lois Lowry. It provokes considerable thought about social structure, rights, and identity. I'm always struck by how much this book causes me to cling to my free will and expression of emotions but also conjures the surfacing of a guilty craving for simplicity that has a price tag we can't match.

The society in this book functions under a very specific set of principles - precision of language, daily dream sharing, pills to suppress "stirrings", and adherence to the rules of the life assignment given at the ceremony of the Elevens. At this ceremony, as the youth transition into their lifelong work, they are told "thank you for your childhood". It is both a genuine acknowledgment of their youth but also a shift into greater contributions to society.

In both The Giver and real life, we often view adulthood as being more than childhood and measure children on a scale of achieving "adultness" (for more on this, I recommend Emily Plank's Discovering the Culture of Childhood). But what if that's not quite right? What if childhood is more and adulthood is simply the unfortunate letting go of the gifts of childhood that we justify with productivity, money, and adult responsibilities?

Children bring endless amounts of joy to our lives with their playfulness, their easy sense of humor, and the delight they find in the simplest moments. They aren't as bound to schedules, time, and responsibilities. The are free from judgement and anger-fueled grudges. They are guided by biological cues, close relationships, curiosity, and simply what feels good.

What if childhood isn't merely to prepare us for adulthood? What if our youngest years are the peak of our lives?

I was thinking about this a lot today as I was watching my sons play. My oldest spent over three hours playing in the snow. Periodically coming in to ask for dinosaurs, and spray bottles with colored water, and helicopters, and the list goes on. He never asked what time it was and never got tired or cold. His play isn't unlike most children, but it is certainly unlike the way I structure my day - tasks, timelines, guilt over procrastination, and so forth. And I started to think of all the things my sons' childhood bring to my life for which I'm extremely grateful.

To my young sons, thank you for filling my life with laughter, for asking me questions that make me learn something new everyday, for your energy that drives me to try and keep up, for the late night wake-ups that remind me of the deep connection we share and how fleeting and precious these moments can be. Thank you for prioritizing play over cleanliness, for sharing your made up stories so I can be a brief guest in your imaginary world, and for making me pause and give notice to things I'd otherwise overlook. Thank you for being unapologetically you, for sharing your perspective with the world, and for making each moment better just by being you.

I know, without question, my life is better because of their presence in my life. The daily reminder that childhood is important, valid, and precious as it's own phase of life, not simply in preparation for the next one. And by embracing their "childness" without comparison to "adultness" my life is richer, more magical, and for a short time, I'm brought back to my own precious childhood.

My dear sons, a million thanks. Thank you for these gifts. Thank you for your childhood.