And the Storm Rages On

It isn’t easy for me to be vulnerable.

I remember a friend from cohort saying to me once that I was very open by not very vulnerable, and I was upset by that statement, because I didn’t think it fair to separate the two out in that manner.  Being honest was, in my mind at that point, being vulnerable.  Now I understand more fully that there is a difference, and that Chris was correct in his assessment.  It is easy for me to tell the truth, and it is hard for me to be open about how that truth can harm me—how exposing the heart of me is different from exposing the facts of my situation.

I was recently quite vulnerable about the financial situation that I find myself in, and the subsequent challenges that my daughter is experiencing.  I let people know how hurt and frustrated and damaged and judged and punished I was feeling as a result of all sorts of things that are far beyond my control.  And I didn’t shy away and rewrite and edit and try to add decorum or lessen the blow of my emotions.

Overall, the response was positive.  I had a few people who commended my authenticity and vulnerability in stating not just the true facts, but the challenge of my own feelings about those facts.

But there was one response that has been eating away at me for days now, and I can’t help but craft some sort of retort.  I won’t start some strange, heated Facebook argument about it, however.  So, instead I want to address it here, and, hopefully, give it a worthy apologetic.

After lamenting that my daughter was forced to drop out of her educational program just 6 weeks prior to graduation due to financial constraints, and noting that my own challenge of being trapped in cycles and systems that keep me in an impoverished state, rather than offer me the chance to thrive—both of which I consider to be rather unique to me in my particular circles of acquaintance and/or influence—I received this comment in reply:

It’s not just you, Christy.  Nor is or (sic) just single income households. The economy is tough and there are a lot of people that I know right now that are struggling to keep the lights on. 

                I’m so sorry. I know what you’re going through when the stress, the anxiety, disability, and desire all meet in the perfect storm.

                I’m praying for you guys…

And under that was a meme that said:

Sometimes God calms the storm.  Sometimes He lets the storm rage and calms His child.

I later texted another friend that I was “Zen as fuck” until I read that comment.

I can’t fully express how upsetting comments like this are for someone in my situation.  The idea that my situation is just like a whole lot of other people’s situations is laughable.  To normalize what is incomprehensibly abnormal as a strategy to deny me aid is not one that is foreign, unfortunately.  People love to rationalize their refusal to help their fellow humans as “reasonable” instead of cruel or evil in all sorts of ways.  And the easiest way to do that is to dehumanize the person in need—using racism, classism, moral relativism, or some other ism to blame the needy for their own struggle.  That dehumanization is much more difficult when you sat beside said person in seminary classes and your child was babysitter to mine, so you resort to the second easiest rationalization—the “lots of people” argument.

“Lots of people” have disabilities and they…

“Lots of people” are divorced and they…

“Lots of people” are having financial challenges.  “Lots of people” have anxiety.  “Lots of people” want life to be different than it is.  “Lots of people” struggle.

All of this is true.  So, in the mind of the one arguing for the many, the one is simply an exaggeration of or a dramatic expression of what all sorts of people are dealing with.  They “understand”.  They “sympathize”.

Bullshit.

I call bullshit.

And I get to call it because of this ugly feeling in the core of my being whenever I get to read these sorts of comments under my vulnerable posts.

Ironically, just above this comment was a series of comments and replies that talked about how I hate to open up because of the times that I opened wide my arms for a hug and got a gut punch instead.  This “lots of people” comment is a gut punch where there should be an embrace.  And I will tell you why this feels like a gut punch.

My vulnerability is not something that is shared by lots of people.  It is an intimate thing, to share my heart and my deepest wounds and fears.  To say that lots of people are touched in the same way—even if it were true—is a betrayal of my trust.  This comment is akin to a friend confiding in you that they were raped, and you saying, “Lots of people get raped.  I know what you’re going through.  Sometimes you need to let go of shit and let God change your perspective.”

Gut fucking punched.

I’m deeply involved in all sorts of methods for changing my perspective, by the way.  I meditate almost every day.  I practice yoga.  I practice gratitude daily.  I use several mindfulness practices, and I have all sorts of routines in place to keep my heart open, my outlook positive, and my disordered thinking in check.  When I said that I was Zen, I meant it.  I could not have been calmer when I received that offending comment.  And I addressed it in the calmest manner possible:  I ignored it.  I talked to a close friend about how it made me feel, and she supported me through the event and helped me to keep a positive perspective throughout the situation.

So, even after being gut punched by the insensitive rationalizing comment, I kept my cool demeanor.  I didn’t need “God to calm his child”.

But the storm is another story.

The storm should NEVER have been here in the first place, and yet it rages on.

This common little meme, and the saying upon it, are very upsetting for me.  They assume that the things in life that harm us are somehow meant to be hanging around our heads so that God can teach us some sort of lesson in how to keep our cool under pressure.  And I don’t understand where that idea comes from, but it is a terrible sentiment, and we need to put an end to it.

My challenges stem from disabling conditions, yes.  And those disabling conditions might never go away or be cured.  I understand that a certain amount of coping is required for me to navigate life with those conditions.  In that sense, there with always be challenges.

But “the storm” for so many of us can simply go away if people stop using the rationale to avoid helping one another and affect change.

My storm includes a system that doesn’t fully support those in our society who have disability, and only offers me $750 in cash and $15 in food benefits, plus a housing stipend.  Adding those together doesn’t make a livable situation, and I am constantly in need and constantly in danger of losing my home, starving, not having my medications, or some other disastrous challenge.

My storm also includes the challenge of mental illness that has been present since early childhood, and which left untreated for so long has influenced my life in countless ways, making it impossible to consider any decision I’ve ever made one that wasn’t made under duress, and challenging me to figure out who the hell I am, and why.  I don’t need a midlife crisis, because I’ve never had an independent identity—my crisis is ongoing.

My storm includes a divorce from a horrible man, whose damage to my person and my psyche cannot and should not be downplayed, for any reason.  And that also means an absent father is a part of my daughter’s storm—and the storms of our children influence our own storms.  The weight of being a single parent goes far beyond “single income” households—and I’ve generally had a no income household, because of my difficulty with employment due to PTSD.  Having a completely absent parent, who contributes in NO way, is not anything that a person who lives in a two-parent home can ever imagine.  It still infuriates me when married people say things like, “I’m a single parent for the week”, when their partner is away on a trip or something.  Having a partner who is physically absent for a matter of days is nothing like having no partner at all.  You still have all sorts of support, financial and emotional just being the tip of the iceberg.  You can’t imagine none of that being present, ever.

My storm includes debt totaling over $250,000.  Most of that is from student loans, and much of the rest is due to the three years’ time that I spent waiting for my disability claim to be approved.  I was unable to work and waiting for the Social Security Administration to look at the body of proof that I was unable to work and sign off on my meager $750 a month payment.  In the meantime, I had nowhere to turn but credit cards, my dad, and charity.  So, I owe far more than I could ever pay back on my own, but I am not eligible for programs that would forgive these debts.  So, I sit and owe, and the interest just increases the amounts and increases the amounts.

My storm includes the complicated situation where my adult daughter cannot be considered an independent student, according to the rules of the government, but I cannot claim her as a dependent, according to the rules of the government.  This leaves her with a shortfall that other students don’t need to deal with regarding their own financial aid.  She can’t take out more money, but I can’t take out money on her behalf.  Because she is in this weird limbo state, because I am a disabled individual.  This isn’t her fault.  This should not be a storm she needs to weather, because I should be able to provide for her.  But I can’t.

So, my storm also includes the constant feeling of guilt because I cannot offer my daughter enough to put her in a position where she is on equal footing with her peers.  She isn’t set up for success.  She doesn’t have the advantages that her cousins and her friends and the children of the commenter on my post have.  I can’t offer her a chance at starting out at zero sum and working her way up from there.  She starts with my handicap.  She starts at the back of the pack, because I can’t give her an education and rent money and clothing and food and care packages and enough love to make up for the losses that she has suffered and the abandonment that she has felt.  I have loved her fiercely.  I have done and continue to do all that I can.  But it will never feel like enough.

My storm includes shame.  So much shame.  Not being a pure virgin girl, and not knowing how to stop being abused, and not understanding what that abuse even was or meant.  The shame of hiding and the shame of secrets and the shame of difference.  My storm later became one that was volatile and violent and full of rage—so much rage.  I felt like I was the storm, or like the storm lived somewhere deep within me and it was trying to get out and I was desperate to hold it in—failing to hold it in.  And then the storm became the shame of promiscuity and feeling like all of those words that are used to keep women captive—whore, slut, bitch—were the only thing that I could be, tainted that I was.  And it felt good to be used in a sense, until it was over, and then the dissociative state wore away and the wave of shame washed over again and I started holding in the storm again, as long as I could … until the next time.

My storm includes being all the people that you could rationalize away as not quite human.  Homeless.  Addicted.  Divorced.  Unemployed.  Mentally ill.  Using my body as currency.  Shielding my body from blows and then crawling into bed next to the one who wielded them.  Perpetually single.  Having sex with partners that were not my husband.  Having sex with partners who were not men.  The girl who stays out too late.  The girl who mows her lawn on Sunday.  (Oh, yes.  Some people consider that a grievous offense!)  I received anonymous notes about my bad behavior.  I was told I could lose my scholarship for having sex.  I got dirty, side-eyed looks from others.  When I talked to your husbands after church, you would suddenly appear at their sides and pull them in a different direction—like talking to me would lead to me stealing them away to mow lawns and suck on body parts by sundown.  In truth, I was just interesting and unconstrained by convention.  It’s an attractive thing to be interesting and unconventional.  (Translation:  read some books not written by female bible study developers and then discuss the contents with your husband … he’ll be mowing your lawn in no time.)

So, my storm also included years and years and years of not having my needs met. Hence the comments about opening my arms for a hug and getting a gut punch.

I’m still not surprised when I open myself up and somebody hits me hard, instead of offering me love and support.  Unfortunately, it is what I have come to expect.

The dumb thing about that meme is that you don’t have to tell me that the storm might not go away.  I fully expect that storm to fucking tear me to pieces and kill me.  It takes weekly therapy, twenty drugs, a host of friends, and all sorts of self-care strategies to convince me that the storm can be survived.  It takes every ounce of energy I can muster to get up in the morning and face the storm again.  It takes all manner of strategies to be my Zen self in the midst of all this chaos and terror and shame and unmet need.  But I do it.  I do it day after day after day.

I keep on facing it.

And some days the storm wins a little, and I freak out on a new potential partner with a host of doubt and shame and fear.  Other days I wake up and counter that with a bit more of the Zen and apologize and open up and tell him why I reacted that way, hoping that he will meet my need and connect with what I am saying … and not gut punch me while my arms are open.

But I face it.

And your job, as the people who would support me, is not to remind me that there is this big, ugly, terrifying storm that I am working so hard to live in the midst of without losing my shit.  Your job is to do everything that you are able to make that storm disappear.  Your job is to offer support where there wasn’t any.  Your job is to accept me and not shame me.  Your job is to love and not harm me.  Your job is to prove that the storm isn’t going to win, and that we can make all of that crap go away by being better than the crap.  We can change and grow and not hurt one another anymore and counter the falsehood with truth and slay the dragon of cruelty with a sword of kindness and acceptance and love.

That is the only way I know how to continue to face the storm—by trusting that we can eventually find calm skies for everyone.  Without that assurance, facing it is a worthless effort, and I may as well off myself now.  (That isn’t a suicidal statement, fyi.  That is me drawing on the extreme to make a point.)  Because if there isn’t an end to the need and the shame there isn’t really a point in moving forward.  And I don’t mean just the money—I mean the need for understanding and connection and love.  But I define love as “meeting needs”, so the money is a part of the equation.

If you are to assist another, you need to do more than tell them that there is struggle all around them and to work on their perspective.  You need to work to end the struggle.  Because no matter what your perspective is, if the struggle persists, you aren’t doing what you should be doing.  You aren’t helping.

I know that standing up against the storm isn’t an easy thing.  It is much easier to say, “Check your perspective” or to hide in some shelter and hope that the storm passes.  But for many of us—and for me—the storm rages on, indefinitely.  And that storm can’t stop.  It won’t stop without the change of perspective from many other people who are not me.

It is often not the people suffering, but those who are unaware of or those who are causing the suffering who need to change the way that they are operating in the day to day.  I’m usually not the one doing things “wrong”.  I’m generally suffering because of the things that are unjust, not the things that I cannot accept but that are perfectly fine.  And the ones suffering an injustice generally don’t have any power to make the change required to stop that suffering.  If they did, the change would happen hastily and without resistance.  Because, despite the lies that many in power like to feed you, people don’t wallow in poverty and addiction and illness and homelessness and sex work because they want to.  Just like Kanye West is an idiot for presuming that slavery was/is a choice, anyone who thinks that people live in the middle of storms because they like how lightning feels is an idiot.  Those people don’t have the shelter they need.  You must find ways to provide it for them—preferably by asking them how you can best provide them shelter.

Robert F Kennedy once said:

Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current which can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.

This is the type of shelter-building act that we need in response to those who are in the middle of storms opening their hearts and asking for assistance.  Building currents that sweep down walls—sweeping away the clouds of the storm and bringing, perhaps for the first time, calm, blue skies, should be the goal that we aspire to reach.  Asking people to be quiet and calm in the middle of injustice is not the answer.  Fighting against injustice is the answer, on the grand scale.

And meeting me in my storm, with open arms and an embrace—not a gut-punching meme that seeks to discredit my need, devalue my expression, and normalize an injustice.

When you are met with someone who opens up and seeks to be authentic and disclose their struggle, don’t tell them to sit quietly in chaos, please.  Don’t ask them to be happier with the injustice that swirls around them.  Act to improve their lot.  Strike out against injustice.  Send forth that ripple of hope.

And if you won’t do all those good things, at least stop sending gut punches.

 

Contribute to Christy’s fundraiser here if you wish to help lessen her storm’s raging.  Thank you!

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The Dread Pirate Booty

I’m a little frustrated by all the information out there in the world today concerning the evil of leggings/yoga pants/things that show the curve of a woman’s buttock.  I’m even more frustrated at the way that policing the bodies of women has become so commonplace that others would feel free to do such things as photograph and post (presumably) humiliating pictures of a stranger’s buttocks in nude colored leggings.

Granted, on the pretense of having a slight amount of fashion sense, I have not before worn, nor will I likely ever wear, leggings that resemble my skin tone as a pant.  I just don’t think there should be confusion about whether I am naked or not naked in public.  When I want to be naked in public, you will know without doubt.  So, the nude leggings are not my thing.  But some women choose to wear them out and about, as a pant.

My dictionary’s definition of pants tells me to see “trousers”.  The definition of trousers is: a usually loose-fitting outer garment for the lower part of the body, having individual leg portions that reach typically to the ankle but sometimes to any of various other points from the upper leg down.  So, “usually”, “typically”, “sometimes” and “various other” would express, in my opinion, that having stuff cover some to most of each leg separately is a pant.  We can all note that the recent trend toward the “skinny jean” demonstrates that the loose-fitting designation no longer applies to pants.  So, in effect, leggings are pants as long as you wear them as outer garments.

Whether or not you believe they should be worn as outerwear does not make them pants.  I wear see through/sheer tops rather frequently.  I usually choose to wear an under-layer of a camisole or tank top, but that does not negate the fact that the sheer item is my outerwear. It is being worn on the outside, regardless of whether I put something under it or no.

So, here is a tip for all those who feel the need to police the ways that women (or men, for that matter) choose to cover or not cover their bodies:

STOP DOING IT!!

It isn’t your right or responsibility to shame others for their clothing.  If you find it personally offensive, look away.  Maybe try looking them in the eye and saying a kind hello instead of fixating on the curvature of the buttock?

Women’s butts are not there for you to gawk at, shame, or police in any way.  Women’s butts are there to facilitate things like sitting and walking and squatting and a number of other actions that muscles and tendons and joints in that area support or make possible.  Can we all just look at a butt and see it as a thing people have, because they are useful, and not something to fear or dread or shame or assign some evil or undesirable qualities upon?

In a Facebook comment, I pointed out that I wear leggings with regularity due to a medical condition. One symptom of my syndrome is allodynia, the experience of pain from things that do not normally cause pain.  One thing that causes me pain is the traditionally acceptable buttoned pant.  Waistbands that are not elastic or drawstring can cause me great suffering.  Instead of being supportive or compassionate toward me when I expressed this suffering, I was told it is “fine” for me to wear leggings as long as I cover them with a dress or tunic, to spare children the “indecency” of seeing my butt.

Seriously?!  The issue that is most important here is not letting children be aware of the female buttock, and I receive your permission to minimize my suffering only if I am more aware of your definition of decency than I am of my comfort?  I wonder, would these same people tell a cancer patient that their bald head is fine, as long as they cover it with a wrap or scarf or hat, so their children don’t need be frightened by baldness.  Or, would these people say to a dementia sufferer, it is fine if you lose your brain function, as long as you have the decency to do it in the nursing home where I don’t need to be exposed to you voiding in your Depends and drooling in public?  Is my ass so evil that my own suffering must be subject to your sense of decency?  And maybe you need to seriously assess the development of your sense of decency, if the body of over half of the population of the earth is considered indecent in your definitions.

And, while we are speaking of definitions, “decent” is defined as “conforming with generally accepted standards”.   I find the shaming of the female form indecent.  And I intend to do all that is within my power to change standards, until those which are generally accepted are those that express equality and diversity and autonomy, and not the shaming and oppression of women (or men, or children, or persons not conforming to the gender binary, or anyone else in the universe).

Who’s with me?

Shocking

I am shocked and amazed at times with the way that threats and insults have become commonplace, and even overwhelm the encouragements and niceties that society once held in high regard. Americans are assholes. It just keeps on coming up as a truth in my experience. I can’t deny it anymore.

I was online and saw this photo posted with “I bet you don’t know what is wrong in this picture” trying to challenge you. And I knew what the person posting thought was wrong with the picture immediately–the man was standing to the inside, not the outside near the street, as he walked along with a woman. I pointed out that this is a really misogynistic sort of view of women…that you need to claim or protect them while they walk on a sidewalk expresses they are weak or in danger, at best, and that they are your property on a more nefarious sort of level.

And I was immediately met with ALL CAPITAL LETTERS and people trying to “educate” me and people making comments like “wow” (which denotes crazy) and “poor child” (which denotes ignorance). The assumption that these are appropriate responses to a woman voicing a feminist concern is not necessarily surprising anymore, because I see it happening so often. What does surprise me is that the “schooling” offered by these people, who were hurling insults, was directed at teaching me that a man flanking your street side is “A SIGN OF RESPECT”.

Wait a moment…the people who are trying to tell me how I need to be respected are doing so with blatant disrespect?

What is the world coming to?

Now, don’t get me wrong, I love blatant disrespect in certain contexts–sticking it to the man, refusing to adhere to standards that harm you, ranting in your kitchen when only the dog is listening–but trying to tell me that I need to accept a misogynistic practice in order to be respected, by being disrespectful, is a practice that I will not accept. And being told that I need to feel a certain way about an action that makes me uncomfortable and angry is something I also will not accept.

You see, the offense is two-fold here. Not only am I told that I am ignorant and crazy for my view of this practice, I am told that I need to view the practice through their eyes. I’m not allowed to be offended by it because they like it and see it as good. So, I must practice niceties, while they insult my intelligence.

Really?!

It has taken me many years to begin to understand the way that the niceties practiced in the small, religious, conservative town I grew up in has left me damaged. It has taken many more to learn skills to cope with and combat that damage. I will always, likely, have a life where I fight against the tendencies to maintain the status quo and not offend and not insult and show respect at the expense of my own health and safety. And these strangers on the internet are seeking, by insult and injury, to force me back into that place and accept things that make me feel sick as things that are really just confused in my perception, but actually really good for me.

When did internet strangers become the voice of the patriarchy, the right-wing fanatic, and the media interest for the degradation of women, all rolled into one? Where do they find these people who are so ignorant of their participation in the machine of oppression that they claim it proudly and with gusto and insulting language?

And the most important question, I suppose, is how do we wake people from this participation and help them see that asking me to kindly accept my oppression is really messed up, and not something they want to participate in any longer?

The whole issue of the guy on the outside isn’t really the point. (Though I still find it offensive and one of those patriarchal heteronormative practices that refuses to die but does us no good.) The point is that when we use insults and shaming to attempt to validate our actions, we immediately invalidate our argument….even when we might be correct.

If you need to harass me into accepting your view, then I never really accept it. If I cannot accept it without insult or shame, then I am not accepting it at all. Being a bully does not make you right. Being an asshole does not make you right. And trying to convince me that what or how I feel is wrong, instead of using a rational argument to make your case, is not right.

I still abhor the practice of a man walking to the outside of the woman. Calling me ignorant and crazy hasn’t changed that. Calling me ignorant and crazy hasn’t changed the misogyny inherent in the practice–the way it treats women as less capable of handling life than men, and in need of protection. But calling me those things has changed something. It has eliminated any respect for you, the ones who called me names. It has actually, then, made you LESS convincing, not more. It has eroded your arguments and not strengthened them.

So, what I find shocking is that people who consider themselves more psychologically balanced and more informed than me would not have the keen awareness to know that name-calling doesn’t secure a debate victory. What I find shocking is that those who would observe the niceties of the patriarchy would observe no niceties of other human interaction. What I find shocking is that people still think calling me stupid would make me view them as smart. (It didn’t work in Grade 5. It doesn’t work now.)

Perhaps, what I find most shocking is the way that the shaming and blaming aspects of our society stand strong while the kindness and the understanding and the encouragements of our society are washed away. I am not certain why this is. I intend to find out. And, in the meantime, I encourage you all to use your intellect and your kindness in interactions. Feel with others and hear their stories and seek to understand the ways that their perspectives are shaped and influenced. Challenge ideas without bullying people. Accept knowledge for the sake of knowing, and not for the sake of using it to support your own agenda. And learn how to observe empathy in the place of niceties, so that you are not forcing people to swallow their feelings in order to maintain your ideals.

In other words, stop being an asshole!