I started a new job on Monday. And the road to get here has been ridiculous. I pretty much landed this one by accident. I received a listing for an entry level job at a trade publishing company. It wasn't even close to what I wanted, but it was a foot in the door, so I applied for it. They called me immediately and set up an interview. During this interview, they realize that the job wasn't really what I wanted. When they asked me why I applied for it, I told them I was hoping it would lead to an editorial position, since editing trade publications was my goal. At this point, the man conducting the interview said, "hang on a minute" and called in their editor-in-chief. He spoke to me briefly about what I was looking for and when he left, the original interview said, "you were so much more lively with him than you were with me. I think that's a good fit for you." I got called back for a second interview with the editor-in-chief. Later that same week, I was offered the job, and obviously accepted. My first day was Monday, the day after Thanksgiving break. Here's a run-down of the week so far, mostly so that I can remember how ridiculous/hilarious/rewarding it's been later:
Monday: I arrived fifteen minutes early for my first day and waited a little bit at the main entrance for my new boss to come retrieve me. Right away, he started showing me what my duties were and training me on them. There was a short break to speak with the woman who poses as the company's HR rep (they're a very small, family-owned company, so they don't have a full HR department). She laid out the benefits and time off, etc. She then said, "I heard you have a masters degree," which I confirmed. She said, "that's really great. I'm all about women. I mean, I'm not a feminist (yes you are), but I really support women strength." So, that was nice. She then took me on a tour of the building, which is small, and I returned to my training. During the training, my new boss and I took a few intermissions to make small talk. He's a nicotine and caffeine addict, which actually comforted me a little bit, because it shattered the illusion that people in higher positions have it all together. He clearly does not, and he openly admits it. He also asked me about my journey into the publishing industry. I told him it had been difficult and he said, "one of the reasons I hired you was because I could tell that you just really wanted someone to give you a chance. You were really looking for someone to just get you in the door." I said, "yeah, pretty much," and he responded, "well, now you're in," and proceeded to tell me about his journey, which was also long and frustrating. I was eventually introduced to everyone who was in the office that day, and the original HR lady came around to ask me if I had a boyfriend, because she "has a son for me." Sweet, but sorry to disappoint. Before leaving, I was cornered by one of the part-timers, who needed to tell me her "rules." Rule #1 was that if I walk into the bathroom and see her feet under the stall, I'm to immediately turn around and leave. She's "fine using public bathrooms," but doesn't like "sharing that business with co-workers." Her second rule was that if I'm sick, I need to stay at least two feet away from her desk. Okay, then. There's one in every crowd. I left my first day of work feeling optimistic and energized. It's been a very long time since I had a boss who I really thought valued me and wanted to see me succeed. I get that impression from this boss. He's smart as hell, incredibly approachable, and extremely nice.
Tuesday: Well, Tuesday I was sick as a dog. Ben and I were both home with a stomach bug. I felt it coming on Monday night and was hoping it wouldn't turn into anything. I didn't want to call out on my second day at a new job. But, alas, at roughly 3:30 a.m. I was laying on my bathroom floor, hugging the toilet. I emailed my new boss from the bathroom floor telling him what was going on and that I wasn't sure if I'd make it in, but that I'd update him later. A few hours later, when I was supposed to be at work, I emailed him again telling him I was going to sleep it off and that I might try to make it in by noon. I was determined not to miss the whole day. I had been trying to call, but kept getting a busy signal. Finally, around noon, I got a hold of him by phone. He said he received my emails and replied, but that their servers were down all morning and I probably didn't get them. He also said the phones weren't working. But, he thanked me for my call and said, "we've all been in awkward positions like this in our careers, so don't worry about it. If you feel much better, come in later, if not, we'll see you tomorrow." I barely got off the couch all day.
Wednesday: I arrived fifteen minutes late, because there was a road closure, which caused a ton of traffic. When I finally arrived, the first thing I said to my co-workers was, "well, this is shaping up to be one hell of a week." My boss laughed when I explained about the road closure and said, "don't worry about it. It's how you perform in the long run that really matters." After that, I was immediately asked by a dozen people if I was feeling better. I was. About 95%. If there's anything "good" about a stomach bug, it's that it generally only lasts 24 hours (although, now I'm terrified I got everyone there sick on Monday, since I didn't know I had it yet). We got back to training on the same things we were working on on Monday. He reiterated that he wanted me to really make this job my own, and that he could tell I was very bright. There's a bit of a learning curve for me, since everything is done on a Mac, and I have very little experience with that. So far, I've been training on my boss's computer. After lunch, we moved to my computer, which oddly is a PC. I ended up helping him, because he wasn't familiar with the operating system. It's the first time in my life I've actually felt smart enough for the job I'm doing, which is frustrating, because I think this is, by far, going to be the most difficult job I've ever had. Maybe I've just finally found my niche. There was also another brief intermission in which he explained to me that even though my job title is Web Editor, he really wants me to learn the print side of things as well, because "why not?" He said, "my goal is to have you know as much as I do." Well, boss, that's my goal too. :) The day ended with a ten-minute conversation about grammar and the rules that he thinks are ridiculous and annoying. I pointed out one of their style rules that I didn't like and he said, "well, keep it that way for now. I can't make a change like that right now, everyone will freak out." In previous jobs, when I pointed out a style rule that I didn't like, the answer has always been, "well, that's just how it is," or, "well, you'll have to get used to it." I felt heard this time, and it was nice. Also, as weird as this sounds, I love the fact that my new boss has a bit of a potty mouth. It's a refreshing change from the uptight corporate environments I'm used to. He's not faking it. He's not putting on airs, or pretending to be someone he's not. He puts his feelings out there. He's told me repeatedly that whether he agrees with the politics of a story or not, it gets printed without bias. Just the facts.
I think I might like it here.
Wednesday, November 30, 2016
Monday, November 21, 2016
Regrets
Last night, I went to my fourth and final wedding of the year. The groom was one of my dearest friends who I've known since middle school. I wish I could say that I was ecstatic during this wedding. I wish I could say that I was moved to tears of happiness for my friend. But instead, besides being exhausted by the number of weddings, I felt a little bit sad. See, this friend has his own group of close knit friends that I'm not a part of. That's not his fault. He's not intentionally excluding me. This group he's a part of does everything together. They do holidays together, they've been in each other's weddings, and they're "aunts" and "uncles" to each other's kids. This makes me sad because I don't have that. I've never had that. And at this stage of my life, I never will.
I watched them interact with each other last night, thinking "I'll never be someone's bridesmaid." I'll never be able to have the conversation: "We'll do Memorial Day this year, if you guys want to do 4th of July." I'll never have a "Friendsgiving." And I'll definitely never be someone's fake aunt. And this is my fault. When I was with my ex, I rarely went out with people, because I didn't get to see him that much and I didn't want to risk missing a second of time together. Because of that, people stopped calling. People stopped inviting me out. People stopped caring. Once we moved in together, I got back in touch with a couple people, but then we split up and I lost them again. And, obviously, I lost all of his friends that had become mine over the years.
Once I was single again, I made an effort to see people more. I started texting people more, and trying to make plans more. Graduate school introduced me to some really wonderful people who I adore. But, just about all of them live somewhere else. And the ones that were here have moved onto bigger and better things. I never felt close enough to any of them to pick up the phone and say, "hey, can I come visit?" I also never had the time off work to be able to do that. Once Ben and I got more comfortable with each other, I started alienating myself again. He's my best friend, and he's the person I want to spend the most time with. When I'm invited out (which is painfully rare), I accept when I can. But, the problem is that I never initiate. I've made attempts to start monthly ladies' nights, and Ben and I have game nights every once in a while, but those are always overwhelmingly Ben's friends. And that's not to say that they're not my friends too, but let's face it, they wouldn't be my friends if it wasn't for Ben. And if Ben and I part ways for whatever reason in the future, they're gone too. Just like before.
I don't have anyone I can text about my favorite show. I don't have anyone I can call and talk to about my accomplishments or vent about my struggles. I watched that group of friends last night and thought over and over again, "I want to be apart of that group so badly." And as more and more people post pictures of their "Friendsgiving" celebrations, I long to be a part of those groups too. I hear people talk about their monthly Sunday brunches, and yearly parties they have that everyone travels far and wide to attend, and I've never had that. I've always maintained that I have no regrets in life, but that's not true. I regret pushing so many good people away. I regret letting so many good friendships get lost in the shuffle. I regret not being a better friend to some, and being too good of a friend to others. I look back on my life and I can't recall a single story after high school that involves me and a group of friends having a good time together (unless you count my bachelorette party).
I don't know. I'm struggling now with posting this at all, because I realize it sounds like I'm throwing myself a big pity party. And I don't want people to reach out to me now because I sound desperate and lonely. But, I know that part of my problem with making friends is that I always feel like I'm bothering people. I always feel like my call is coming at a bad time, and they are somehow inconvenienced by my friendship. I didn't always feel like that. I used to have a super tight group of friends, but that was in middle school. And honestly, they are probably the ones that made me this way. We weren't the nicest to each other. And I often felt like I got the worst end of it, because I was the only one who didn't live in the same town as the rest of them. I was inconvenient. I was out of the way. How do people do it? How do people maintain friendships into adulthood? How do they find groups of people they have enough in common with that they keep it going for so many years?
I need more in my life than work, Ben, and my cat. That's the sad truth. But, like everything else, I don't even know where to start to get that.
I watched them interact with each other last night, thinking "I'll never be someone's bridesmaid." I'll never be able to have the conversation: "We'll do Memorial Day this year, if you guys want to do 4th of July." I'll never have a "Friendsgiving." And I'll definitely never be someone's fake aunt. And this is my fault. When I was with my ex, I rarely went out with people, because I didn't get to see him that much and I didn't want to risk missing a second of time together. Because of that, people stopped calling. People stopped inviting me out. People stopped caring. Once we moved in together, I got back in touch with a couple people, but then we split up and I lost them again. And, obviously, I lost all of his friends that had become mine over the years.
Once I was single again, I made an effort to see people more. I started texting people more, and trying to make plans more. Graduate school introduced me to some really wonderful people who I adore. But, just about all of them live somewhere else. And the ones that were here have moved onto bigger and better things. I never felt close enough to any of them to pick up the phone and say, "hey, can I come visit?" I also never had the time off work to be able to do that. Once Ben and I got more comfortable with each other, I started alienating myself again. He's my best friend, and he's the person I want to spend the most time with. When I'm invited out (which is painfully rare), I accept when I can. But, the problem is that I never initiate. I've made attempts to start monthly ladies' nights, and Ben and I have game nights every once in a while, but those are always overwhelmingly Ben's friends. And that's not to say that they're not my friends too, but let's face it, they wouldn't be my friends if it wasn't for Ben. And if Ben and I part ways for whatever reason in the future, they're gone too. Just like before.
I don't have anyone I can text about my favorite show. I don't have anyone I can call and talk to about my accomplishments or vent about my struggles. I watched that group of friends last night and thought over and over again, "I want to be apart of that group so badly." And as more and more people post pictures of their "Friendsgiving" celebrations, I long to be a part of those groups too. I hear people talk about their monthly Sunday brunches, and yearly parties they have that everyone travels far and wide to attend, and I've never had that. I've always maintained that I have no regrets in life, but that's not true. I regret pushing so many good people away. I regret letting so many good friendships get lost in the shuffle. I regret not being a better friend to some, and being too good of a friend to others. I look back on my life and I can't recall a single story after high school that involves me and a group of friends having a good time together (unless you count my bachelorette party).
I don't know. I'm struggling now with posting this at all, because I realize it sounds like I'm throwing myself a big pity party. And I don't want people to reach out to me now because I sound desperate and lonely. But, I know that part of my problem with making friends is that I always feel like I'm bothering people. I always feel like my call is coming at a bad time, and they are somehow inconvenienced by my friendship. I didn't always feel like that. I used to have a super tight group of friends, but that was in middle school. And honestly, they are probably the ones that made me this way. We weren't the nicest to each other. And I often felt like I got the worst end of it, because I was the only one who didn't live in the same town as the rest of them. I was inconvenient. I was out of the way. How do people do it? How do people maintain friendships into adulthood? How do they find groups of people they have enough in common with that they keep it going for so many years?
I need more in my life than work, Ben, and my cat. That's the sad truth. But, like everything else, I don't even know where to start to get that.
Wednesday, November 9, 2016
The United States of Intolerance
It's an appropriately dreary day in Southeastern Pennsylvania today, as we reel from the aftermath of this year's election. Like so many people that I have talked to today, I am disgusted. I'm sad. I'm scared. And I'm incredibly discouraged.
Let me start by saying that I am neither Republican nor Democrat. I am a registered Independent. Ben, my boyfriend, is staunchly Liberal. In fact, if it wasn't for him, I may not have ever registered. This was my first time voting. This year, it was an easy choice for me. Previous years it wasn't, because my views are so much in the middle. I understand why someone would oppose abortion, especially those who have lost a baby, or those who are unable to get pregnant. I understand those who don't want universal healthcare - you work hard for your money, and it doesn't seem fair that so much of it should have to go to others. I am able to separate my own feelings towards those issues from what is best for the overall population. In most cases, I don't support abortion, but I absolutely believe the option needs to be there. I believe that an abortion stops a beating heart and that it is life, and it is a baby, regardless of how far into the pregnancy it is. But, I also understand that in some cases, the mother's life is at risk, and that in some cases, that baby would be better off not being born. I get it. I see both sides of it. Hence my Independent registration. Sometimes, the Republicans make sense to me. And sometimes they sound like the dumbest, most uneducated fools on the planet. Same goes for Democrats. Neither party is innocent. And neither party is 100% right.
That all being said, Donald Trump is wrong for this country. I am shocked that he is going to be our new president. I am appalled that he has been elected to represent our people and what we stand for. And I'm angry that Hillary Clinton won the popular vote. No, it's not "cold comfort." It doesn't feel good that it was a "close race." There is no silver lining here. Hillary Clinton was elected by the people to be the next President of the United States. The Electoral College painted a different picture. However, the votes were so close that I'm disgusted. I found myself at work today, looking at everyone I saw and wondering which side of this they fell on. Fifty percent of voters voted for Donald Trump. One out of every two people who voted, voted for Donald Trump. They voted for the man who has publicly denounced an entire religion. They voted for a man who plans on shadowing Hitler with his plans to keep immigrants out of our country (immigrants, that I have no doubt these same people have hired, because they "work for cheap"). They voted for a man who thinks it is okay to "grab a woman by the pussy" and kiss her without permission. They voted for a man who thinks that members of the gay community do not deserve the same rights as the rest of us. They voted against common decency. They voted against humanity. And I now stop and wonder if each person I see is quietly racist, and misogynistic, and homophobic. I understand not supporting either candidate. I do. What I don't understand is this "lesser of two evils" nonsense. Hillary Clinton, during this election, was poised, and professional, and tried her best to stick to the issues. Donald Trump was the exact opposite. Clinton may have made some bad choices during her political career, but what politician hasn't? Trump hasn't made bad political decisions, because he hasn't made any political decisions. His business decisions, however, have been horrific.
The four women I work closely with at one of my jobs all have children of their own. I'm the sole childless woman in the room. Thankfully, all four of them were against Trump winning the election. Hearing the reactions from their children was so saddening. One commented that her five-year-old son took it really hard, and was concerned about the women of our country - his mother and his sister. She said she made an effort not to let her hatred for Trump rub off on him, because she didn't want that negativity in his life. But, the fact that a five-year-old already knew that speaks volumes. She's a better person than I, because I would have told my child exactly what I thought. Which is what another co-worker did. She told us that she took her children aside and assured them that Donald Trump was not "their"president. That he didn't speak for them. That he did not represent the values that they held. She wanted her children to know where they stood as a family. And another said that her nine-year-old daughter threw herself on the floor crying when she heard the news this morning. Of course, these kids are being influenced by their parents, there's no question there. But, for a five-year-old boy to know, and to understand, at that age, what this means for women, and to express concern...how do we justify that? How do we defend that? How does the rest of the world look at their children and tell them that they genuinely care about their future? Because millions of people have proven otherwise. There is not a single thing that Hillary Clinton did in her entire career that even compares to some of Trump's indiscretions. And he is supported at every turn. I don't generally jump on the gender bandwagon, or the race bandwagon, simply because I feel that a lot of it is media hype. That's not to say that I don't think it's a problem. It simply means that I think the media perpetuates the problems, and feeds us stories they want us to pay attention to. Much of the other side of things is not reported, or downplayed significantly. That being said, I do believe that if Hillary Clinton had been a man, she would have decimated Donald Trump.
So much of my family support him. So many of them have been cheering for him since the early days of the election process. Since before the primaries. And I've been repulsed by them ever since. I was able, somehow, to find it in myself to still love them, and to still be an active part of their life, but I don't know if I can this year. I don't know if I can stomach Thanksgiving and Christmas with people who clearly don't care much about my future, or about the future of my children. I cannot sit at a table and share a meal of thanks with people who stand against everything this country is about. I cannot celebrate a holiday that represents the very thing they voted against. This country was founded on immigrants. It was founded on religious freedom. That's why people come here. They come here for freedom. And we are now telling these people that there is nowhere safe for them to go. You can't practice your religion here. You can't love who you want here. You can't voice an opinion or walk against the crowd here. Conform or die. That's how it feels.
For those of us who are not white Christian males, it's now a terrifying place to live. Without the trifecta of privilege, we have no place in this country anymore. I am not thankful for the 50% who voted for Hillary. Because it's not enough. I do not find comfort in the fact that "half of the people" are still good. Half is not enough. Half is dismally less than it should be. This should not have been a close race. This should have been a landslide. My own state went to Donald Trump, and I find myself taking that harder than the overall election. The place I call home. The place I love. I feel betrayed. And I know that SO MANY of us are feeling the same way. And we need each other so much right now. Hatred may have won the election, but don't let it win our hearts. Be louder. Be stronger. Be better. We can all do better. We can all do more. I know I plan to.
Stay strong, my friends. And know that we are stronger together. I love you.
Let me start by saying that I am neither Republican nor Democrat. I am a registered Independent. Ben, my boyfriend, is staunchly Liberal. In fact, if it wasn't for him, I may not have ever registered. This was my first time voting. This year, it was an easy choice for me. Previous years it wasn't, because my views are so much in the middle. I understand why someone would oppose abortion, especially those who have lost a baby, or those who are unable to get pregnant. I understand those who don't want universal healthcare - you work hard for your money, and it doesn't seem fair that so much of it should have to go to others. I am able to separate my own feelings towards those issues from what is best for the overall population. In most cases, I don't support abortion, but I absolutely believe the option needs to be there. I believe that an abortion stops a beating heart and that it is life, and it is a baby, regardless of how far into the pregnancy it is. But, I also understand that in some cases, the mother's life is at risk, and that in some cases, that baby would be better off not being born. I get it. I see both sides of it. Hence my Independent registration. Sometimes, the Republicans make sense to me. And sometimes they sound like the dumbest, most uneducated fools on the planet. Same goes for Democrats. Neither party is innocent. And neither party is 100% right.
That all being said, Donald Trump is wrong for this country. I am shocked that he is going to be our new president. I am appalled that he has been elected to represent our people and what we stand for. And I'm angry that Hillary Clinton won the popular vote. No, it's not "cold comfort." It doesn't feel good that it was a "close race." There is no silver lining here. Hillary Clinton was elected by the people to be the next President of the United States. The Electoral College painted a different picture. However, the votes were so close that I'm disgusted. I found myself at work today, looking at everyone I saw and wondering which side of this they fell on. Fifty percent of voters voted for Donald Trump. One out of every two people who voted, voted for Donald Trump. They voted for the man who has publicly denounced an entire religion. They voted for a man who plans on shadowing Hitler with his plans to keep immigrants out of our country (immigrants, that I have no doubt these same people have hired, because they "work for cheap"). They voted for a man who thinks it is okay to "grab a woman by the pussy" and kiss her without permission. They voted for a man who thinks that members of the gay community do not deserve the same rights as the rest of us. They voted against common decency. They voted against humanity. And I now stop and wonder if each person I see is quietly racist, and misogynistic, and homophobic. I understand not supporting either candidate. I do. What I don't understand is this "lesser of two evils" nonsense. Hillary Clinton, during this election, was poised, and professional, and tried her best to stick to the issues. Donald Trump was the exact opposite. Clinton may have made some bad choices during her political career, but what politician hasn't? Trump hasn't made bad political decisions, because he hasn't made any political decisions. His business decisions, however, have been horrific.
The four women I work closely with at one of my jobs all have children of their own. I'm the sole childless woman in the room. Thankfully, all four of them were against Trump winning the election. Hearing the reactions from their children was so saddening. One commented that her five-year-old son took it really hard, and was concerned about the women of our country - his mother and his sister. She said she made an effort not to let her hatred for Trump rub off on him, because she didn't want that negativity in his life. But, the fact that a five-year-old already knew that speaks volumes. She's a better person than I, because I would have told my child exactly what I thought. Which is what another co-worker did. She told us that she took her children aside and assured them that Donald Trump was not "their"president. That he didn't speak for them. That he did not represent the values that they held. She wanted her children to know where they stood as a family. And another said that her nine-year-old daughter threw herself on the floor crying when she heard the news this morning. Of course, these kids are being influenced by their parents, there's no question there. But, for a five-year-old boy to know, and to understand, at that age, what this means for women, and to express concern...how do we justify that? How do we defend that? How does the rest of the world look at their children and tell them that they genuinely care about their future? Because millions of people have proven otherwise. There is not a single thing that Hillary Clinton did in her entire career that even compares to some of Trump's indiscretions. And he is supported at every turn. I don't generally jump on the gender bandwagon, or the race bandwagon, simply because I feel that a lot of it is media hype. That's not to say that I don't think it's a problem. It simply means that I think the media perpetuates the problems, and feeds us stories they want us to pay attention to. Much of the other side of things is not reported, or downplayed significantly. That being said, I do believe that if Hillary Clinton had been a man, she would have decimated Donald Trump.
So much of my family support him. So many of them have been cheering for him since the early days of the election process. Since before the primaries. And I've been repulsed by them ever since. I was able, somehow, to find it in myself to still love them, and to still be an active part of their life, but I don't know if I can this year. I don't know if I can stomach Thanksgiving and Christmas with people who clearly don't care much about my future, or about the future of my children. I cannot sit at a table and share a meal of thanks with people who stand against everything this country is about. I cannot celebrate a holiday that represents the very thing they voted against. This country was founded on immigrants. It was founded on religious freedom. That's why people come here. They come here for freedom. And we are now telling these people that there is nowhere safe for them to go. You can't practice your religion here. You can't love who you want here. You can't voice an opinion or walk against the crowd here. Conform or die. That's how it feels.
For those of us who are not white Christian males, it's now a terrifying place to live. Without the trifecta of privilege, we have no place in this country anymore. I am not thankful for the 50% who voted for Hillary. Because it's not enough. I do not find comfort in the fact that "half of the people" are still good. Half is not enough. Half is dismally less than it should be. This should not have been a close race. This should have been a landslide. My own state went to Donald Trump, and I find myself taking that harder than the overall election. The place I call home. The place I love. I feel betrayed. And I know that SO MANY of us are feeling the same way. And we need each other so much right now. Hatred may have won the election, but don't let it win our hearts. Be louder. Be stronger. Be better. We can all do better. We can all do more. I know I plan to.
Stay strong, my friends. And know that we are stronger together. I love you.
Monday, October 10, 2016
Logic Trumps Emotion: A Plea
This is going to be my last post until after the elections. I'm just done with it all. My heart is broken, seeing people I respected, people I thought were good and kind, support a monster.
Yesterday, I saw an article titled something like "Why You Don't Get to Judge Donald Trump." I didn't read it, because I already knew what it was going to say. "Locker room talk," "typical guy," "private conversation," etc., etc., bullshit, whatever. Here is my response. Here is why we not only can, but should judge Donald Trump: because he's running for president.
This is not a pro-Hillary post. It's not an anti-Republican post. It is strictly a plea not to vote for Trump. I don't care if you write in Ronald McDonald, so long as Donald Trump's name is not the one you select on election day.
I can agree, to a point, that we shouldn't judge people on what they did more than a decade ago. I can also agree that it matters more how they present themselves in public than it does how they act around their friends. However, Trump wasn't with a "friend" when he made those comments. It was before an interview. And he wasn't some dumb college kid trying to impress his friends. He was a grown adult, married, with children, who knew exactly what he was saying. As someone who was in a relationship with a mechanic - a "man's" profession - for ten years, I can tell you that I heard a lot of guy talk. There were comments made that made me want to punch him right in his sexist face. But, I have never heard any comments even remotely close to what Donald Trump has said. And you know what? I'd be lying if I said I hadn't made some comments myself. But, I'd say the worst thing I've ever said about a man is, "I'd let him do things to me," which is generally said about a celebrity, and has no bearing on reality. And the key word there is "let." Donald Trump was not talking about a woman "letting" him do anything to her. He was talking about taking what he wanted, like a child. And let's stop pretending that this was an isolated incident. The man is a pig, and he has shown us that again and again. That particular comment might have been made more than ten years ago, but he's made comments during his campaign that are nearly on par. He's not a changed man. And he's not an "average" man. He's a rich man, who has never heard the word no in his life. He grew up privileged and has no concept of what the average person is like. He doesn't know how they live, how they talk, how they struggle. He is the very last person we need running our country.
I think we can all agree that we let our true selves show when we think no one is watching. We all say and do stupid things when we think we're alone, or when we think we're with someone we can trust, but Donald Trump's comments went above and beyond that. And both of the apologies he issued threw his opponent under the bus. He cannot defend himself without tearing down someone else. I don't care what Bill Clinton said to you on the golf course. He's not the one on trial here. Own it. Apologize sincerely, without acting like a child: "but...but...what he did was wooooooorse!" No.
The President is someone we elect to represent our country. This is the person who represents us, as people, to the rest of the world. He or she is supposed to represent our standards and our values. He or she is the person we choose who is most like us, and can adequately defend us, and stand for us. Is Donald Trump the kind of person we want representing us? Can you honestly look at him, and listen to him dodge questions, and hear him talk about sexually assaulting women and dating his daughter, and say, "yes, that is the way I want America to be represented"? Despite what others try to argue over and over again, this country was founded on religious freedom. We are not a Christian nation. Freedom of religion is written into our constitution, which only seems to matter when we're talking about guns. A man who wants to abolish the world's largest religion does not represent us. He feeds on our fears and delivers exactly what he thinks we want to hear.
I watched about ten minutes of the debate last night (I had work until 10:00), and I can tell you this: I saw a man talk a lot about what this country needs, but who didn't say a word about how he plans to get us there. Everyone knows what we need. We all know. We should want someone who has concrete plans, legitimate plans, plausible plans, to get us there. He has none of that. You cannot base a campaign around bringing down your opponent. We need to stop blaming and pointing fingers, and seriously start looking at what this person has to offer. Hillary Clinton may have been responsible for a hand full of deaths, but how many do you think Donald Trump will order? If you don't think that he will bring in the next World War, then you know nothing about your history. His plans are on par with Hitler's. Replace Jews with Muslims, and it's the same guy. I have Muslim friends, and they are some of the sweetest, kindest, most sincere people I have ever met. The actions of the few do not define the majority.
We are better than this. We deserve better than this. Our children deserve better than this. The only thing not great about America is who our Republican presidential candidate is. Prove that we're already great by making sure this man stays as far away from the White House as possible. I'm begging you.
Yesterday, I saw an article titled something like "Why You Don't Get to Judge Donald Trump." I didn't read it, because I already knew what it was going to say. "Locker room talk," "typical guy," "private conversation," etc., etc., bullshit, whatever. Here is my response. Here is why we not only can, but should judge Donald Trump: because he's running for president.
This is not a pro-Hillary post. It's not an anti-Republican post. It is strictly a plea not to vote for Trump. I don't care if you write in Ronald McDonald, so long as Donald Trump's name is not the one you select on election day.
I can agree, to a point, that we shouldn't judge people on what they did more than a decade ago. I can also agree that it matters more how they present themselves in public than it does how they act around their friends. However, Trump wasn't with a "friend" when he made those comments. It was before an interview. And he wasn't some dumb college kid trying to impress his friends. He was a grown adult, married, with children, who knew exactly what he was saying. As someone who was in a relationship with a mechanic - a "man's" profession - for ten years, I can tell you that I heard a lot of guy talk. There were comments made that made me want to punch him right in his sexist face. But, I have never heard any comments even remotely close to what Donald Trump has said. And you know what? I'd be lying if I said I hadn't made some comments myself. But, I'd say the worst thing I've ever said about a man is, "I'd let him do things to me," which is generally said about a celebrity, and has no bearing on reality. And the key word there is "let." Donald Trump was not talking about a woman "letting" him do anything to her. He was talking about taking what he wanted, like a child. And let's stop pretending that this was an isolated incident. The man is a pig, and he has shown us that again and again. That particular comment might have been made more than ten years ago, but he's made comments during his campaign that are nearly on par. He's not a changed man. And he's not an "average" man. He's a rich man, who has never heard the word no in his life. He grew up privileged and has no concept of what the average person is like. He doesn't know how they live, how they talk, how they struggle. He is the very last person we need running our country.
I think we can all agree that we let our true selves show when we think no one is watching. We all say and do stupid things when we think we're alone, or when we think we're with someone we can trust, but Donald Trump's comments went above and beyond that. And both of the apologies he issued threw his opponent under the bus. He cannot defend himself without tearing down someone else. I don't care what Bill Clinton said to you on the golf course. He's not the one on trial here. Own it. Apologize sincerely, without acting like a child: "but...but...what he did was wooooooorse!" No.
The President is someone we elect to represent our country. This is the person who represents us, as people, to the rest of the world. He or she is supposed to represent our standards and our values. He or she is the person we choose who is most like us, and can adequately defend us, and stand for us. Is Donald Trump the kind of person we want representing us? Can you honestly look at him, and listen to him dodge questions, and hear him talk about sexually assaulting women and dating his daughter, and say, "yes, that is the way I want America to be represented"? Despite what others try to argue over and over again, this country was founded on religious freedom. We are not a Christian nation. Freedom of religion is written into our constitution, which only seems to matter when we're talking about guns. A man who wants to abolish the world's largest religion does not represent us. He feeds on our fears and delivers exactly what he thinks we want to hear.
I watched about ten minutes of the debate last night (I had work until 10:00), and I can tell you this: I saw a man talk a lot about what this country needs, but who didn't say a word about how he plans to get us there. Everyone knows what we need. We all know. We should want someone who has concrete plans, legitimate plans, plausible plans, to get us there. He has none of that. You cannot base a campaign around bringing down your opponent. We need to stop blaming and pointing fingers, and seriously start looking at what this person has to offer. Hillary Clinton may have been responsible for a hand full of deaths, but how many do you think Donald Trump will order? If you don't think that he will bring in the next World War, then you know nothing about your history. His plans are on par with Hitler's. Replace Jews with Muslims, and it's the same guy. I have Muslim friends, and they are some of the sweetest, kindest, most sincere people I have ever met. The actions of the few do not define the majority.
We are better than this. We deserve better than this. Our children deserve better than this. The only thing not great about America is who our Republican presidential candidate is. Prove that we're already great by making sure this man stays as far away from the White House as possible. I'm begging you.
Thursday, September 1, 2016
Family Ties
I suck, I know. Shut up. I can't even use the excuse that I've been working, because that's not why I've been slacking off. There are two reasons, really. One is that I've become obsessed with my family ancestry. I got free access to ancestry.com at one of my jobs and it has spiraled from there. It's consumed every free moment. The second reason is because I noticed the other day that Ben and I have fallen into the habit of coming home from work, going to our separate corners every night, and not spending any time with each other. This was one of the biggest signs of trouble in my marriage and ultimately led to its end. So, I've been making a conscious effort to spend more quality time with him when we're both home, since that doesn't happen that often. So sue me for trying not to ruin another relationship. In any case, this ancestry thing has been fascinating.
When I started out, I was hoping to find something sordid. I wanted to find out that my family were slave owners or something, because both sides have always played the whole innocent Christian thing. I enjoy unraveling those fake perfect families and finding out the dirty back story. Even if it is my own. So far, I've found some interesting stuff, but nothing like that. I found one person who murdered his wife, but it was a brother-in-law of a great aunt, so that doesn't really count. I also found out that my great-grandfather died in a mental hospital, which no one in my family knew, because my grandfather would never talk about it. Besides that, I've found a ton of dead babies that people also didn't know about. It's been cool, and it's been getting me to talk to my family a lot more, which I admittedly don't do that often. Most of them, I just don't enjoy talking to. Mostly, I'm just lazy and a horrible daughter/cousin/sister/aunt/etc. So, this has been opening those lines up more, which has been great. My parents have been telling me some cool things about my family that I never knew before, and I've also discovered a possible Native American link, which has me all kinds of excited. But, so far, the most rewarding part was a story my mom told me. You're going to think it's a bit odd, but I'll explain why I'm holding on to this story after I tell it.
So, my mom and I were discussing when her mom (my Nanny) died. I was three at the time and my brother was six. We were living at Nanny's house with my mom, who was in the middle of divorcing my dad. Nanny was sick and mom moved in both to help out and because she needed somewhere to stay. It was convenient for both of them. I mentioned to my mom the other day that I felt like I remembered the day Nanny died, even though I was barely out of diapers. I said there was a chance I was remembering it wrong, and asked if I could tell her what I remembered to see if that's how it happened. For my entire life, I have always remembered walking into my brother's room with him and seeing my mom crying on the edge of his bed. When we asked what was wrong, she told us that Nanny had died. I told my mom this story and she said that probably was how it happened. She then asked me if I remembered that my brother and I had been sharing a room at that point. In the room was two twin beds, one for each of us, and my mom was staying in Nanny's room, who had just been taken to the hospital earlier that day. Mom told me that that night, at about 4am, she woke up with a cold chill. She walked into the room I was sharing with my brother and went back to sleep on the floor between us. The next morning, she learned that was exactly the time when Nanny had passed.
I didn't tell that story because I believe it means something (although Ben and I did discuss how that also happened to his stepfather, and it made me wonder if we're so connected to our parents from birth, that this sort of thing happens to everyone. I hope I don't find out any time soon). I don't believe in spirits, or the afterlife, or any of that stuff, so I wasn't struck by her chill. I was struck by the unbelievable vulnerability of her story. I can count on one hand how many times I've seen my mom cry in my life. Most of them were after my stepdad died, and even that wasn't a lot. She always been a pillar of strength. She's been through a lot of shit, and dealt with a lot of crappy people, and a mother who was lovely, but not good at showing affection. Her dad died when she was five and her mother didn't work, so a lot of responsibility fell on her at a very young age. It takes a lot to get her down.
I don't remember my parents getting divorced, but I know now that they are far better apart. I can't imagine what my life would have been like if they'd been together. Having been through one myself now, I know how difficult it is. And while I didn't want to move back in with my mom, it ended up being the best thing for me. I did need her, even though I didn't want to admit it. And now, I would imagine, that she needed hers. When she told me that she woke up and went and slept between me and my brother, I immediately saw her in a different light. She was still that pillar of strength, but she was more...human, I guess. I feel like sometimes we all fail to see our parents as the people they are. In that moment, she was exactly in between being a mother and still being a child. She was essentially alone in her childhood home and with nowhere else to go when she woke up scared, she turned to her children. But, she didn't slip into bed with one of them and hold them to comfort her. She let them sleep, instead choosing to sleep on the floor between them. She needed their presence as much as they needed hers, because she couldn't have her mom's anymore. I can't imagine what that time must have been like for her. I know how it felt losing my stepdad smack in the middle of my divorce, but this is different. There were no children involved in mine. And it wasn't my mother. It wasn't the person I turned to when my life turned to shit. It wasn't the person who was there when I had nowhere else to go.
There's a part of me that's sad that I didn't get to see that side of my mom back then. Knowing her, I'm sure she pulled herself together and did what needed to be done. I'm sure she was the one in charge of selling Nanny's house and getting things in order. Her divorce from my father was finalized that exact same day (talk about a bad day!). When my stepdad died, she immediately kicked into gear. I remember telling her repeatedly to slow down, in case she ended up getting rid of something she'd regret later (she did). But, it was her therapy, she said. It was what she needed to do. It kept her occupied. And I'm sure she handled things exactly the same way back then. I wish I got to see more of that vulnerable mom. I wish there were more nights when she slept on the bedroom floor just because she wanted to be near me. We never stop being our mother's children, no matter what happens in our lives. And now I see that. I'm glad I do.
Talk to your parents. They tell you stuff. If they're not around, talk to grandparents, aunts, uncles, siblings, cousins, anyone who can give you some insight into your family and essentially yourself. You'll find some cool stuff.
When I started out, I was hoping to find something sordid. I wanted to find out that my family were slave owners or something, because both sides have always played the whole innocent Christian thing. I enjoy unraveling those fake perfect families and finding out the dirty back story. Even if it is my own. So far, I've found some interesting stuff, but nothing like that. I found one person who murdered his wife, but it was a brother-in-law of a great aunt, so that doesn't really count. I also found out that my great-grandfather died in a mental hospital, which no one in my family knew, because my grandfather would never talk about it. Besides that, I've found a ton of dead babies that people also didn't know about. It's been cool, and it's been getting me to talk to my family a lot more, which I admittedly don't do that often. Most of them, I just don't enjoy talking to. Mostly, I'm just lazy and a horrible daughter/cousin/sister/aunt/etc. So, this has been opening those lines up more, which has been great. My parents have been telling me some cool things about my family that I never knew before, and I've also discovered a possible Native American link, which has me all kinds of excited. But, so far, the most rewarding part was a story my mom told me. You're going to think it's a bit odd, but I'll explain why I'm holding on to this story after I tell it.
So, my mom and I were discussing when her mom (my Nanny) died. I was three at the time and my brother was six. We were living at Nanny's house with my mom, who was in the middle of divorcing my dad. Nanny was sick and mom moved in both to help out and because she needed somewhere to stay. It was convenient for both of them. I mentioned to my mom the other day that I felt like I remembered the day Nanny died, even though I was barely out of diapers. I said there was a chance I was remembering it wrong, and asked if I could tell her what I remembered to see if that's how it happened. For my entire life, I have always remembered walking into my brother's room with him and seeing my mom crying on the edge of his bed. When we asked what was wrong, she told us that Nanny had died. I told my mom this story and she said that probably was how it happened. She then asked me if I remembered that my brother and I had been sharing a room at that point. In the room was two twin beds, one for each of us, and my mom was staying in Nanny's room, who had just been taken to the hospital earlier that day. Mom told me that that night, at about 4am, she woke up with a cold chill. She walked into the room I was sharing with my brother and went back to sleep on the floor between us. The next morning, she learned that was exactly the time when Nanny had passed.
I didn't tell that story because I believe it means something (although Ben and I did discuss how that also happened to his stepfather, and it made me wonder if we're so connected to our parents from birth, that this sort of thing happens to everyone. I hope I don't find out any time soon). I don't believe in spirits, or the afterlife, or any of that stuff, so I wasn't struck by her chill. I was struck by the unbelievable vulnerability of her story. I can count on one hand how many times I've seen my mom cry in my life. Most of them were after my stepdad died, and even that wasn't a lot. She always been a pillar of strength. She's been through a lot of shit, and dealt with a lot of crappy people, and a mother who was lovely, but not good at showing affection. Her dad died when she was five and her mother didn't work, so a lot of responsibility fell on her at a very young age. It takes a lot to get her down.
I don't remember my parents getting divorced, but I know now that they are far better apart. I can't imagine what my life would have been like if they'd been together. Having been through one myself now, I know how difficult it is. And while I didn't want to move back in with my mom, it ended up being the best thing for me. I did need her, even though I didn't want to admit it. And now, I would imagine, that she needed hers. When she told me that she woke up and went and slept between me and my brother, I immediately saw her in a different light. She was still that pillar of strength, but she was more...human, I guess. I feel like sometimes we all fail to see our parents as the people they are. In that moment, she was exactly in between being a mother and still being a child. She was essentially alone in her childhood home and with nowhere else to go when she woke up scared, she turned to her children. But, she didn't slip into bed with one of them and hold them to comfort her. She let them sleep, instead choosing to sleep on the floor between them. She needed their presence as much as they needed hers, because she couldn't have her mom's anymore. I can't imagine what that time must have been like for her. I know how it felt losing my stepdad smack in the middle of my divorce, but this is different. There were no children involved in mine. And it wasn't my mother. It wasn't the person I turned to when my life turned to shit. It wasn't the person who was there when I had nowhere else to go.
There's a part of me that's sad that I didn't get to see that side of my mom back then. Knowing her, I'm sure she pulled herself together and did what needed to be done. I'm sure she was the one in charge of selling Nanny's house and getting things in order. Her divorce from my father was finalized that exact same day (talk about a bad day!). When my stepdad died, she immediately kicked into gear. I remember telling her repeatedly to slow down, in case she ended up getting rid of something she'd regret later (she did). But, it was her therapy, she said. It was what she needed to do. It kept her occupied. And I'm sure she handled things exactly the same way back then. I wish I got to see more of that vulnerable mom. I wish there were more nights when she slept on the bedroom floor just because she wanted to be near me. We never stop being our mother's children, no matter what happens in our lives. And now I see that. I'm glad I do.
Talk to your parents. They tell you stuff. If they're not around, talk to grandparents, aunts, uncles, siblings, cousins, anyone who can give you some insight into your family and essentially yourself. You'll find some cool stuff.
Sunday, July 17, 2016
"Make America Great Again"
I know I've been M.I.A. for a while, and I'm sorry for anyone who actually cares. I've worked the last 14 days straight and I'm beyond exhausted. I'm burnt out. I'm angry. I'm miserable. And I'm frustrated. So much of that comes from the state of this country, though. Ben and I have begun talking seriously about leaving. If it was easy enough to pack up and find a job in a new country, I'd already have done it. I just can't handle it anymore. There are not enough anti-depressants in the world to make me feel better about things.
A while ago, I stopped adding family members on Facebook. I somehow ended up having completely opposite religious and political views from everyone in my entire family. This has caused issues on Facebook, and has led to instances where family members are no longer speaking to me. More recently, I've been deleting ones who are still left. My heart can't take it anymore. My heart can't take finding out that people I love and look up to are complete pieces of shit. How did they get there? Where does it come from? And what the hell happened to me that I'm nowhere near where they are on this stuff?
The most notorious instance is one that so many of my friends witnessed. I have a cousin - one whom I always admired and adored - who is no longer speaking to me. Last year, when gay marriage became legal across the country, as it should always have been, I posted a status in support of the new law. She posted a comment disagreeing with my support. She gave the usual objections: "if it's okay for them to wave a flag, why can't I wave one saying I'm straight?" "It's against God." Yadda, yadda. My messages blew up with LBGT friends telling me how stupid she was, and other friends telling me "thanks for the laughs." I had another cousin reach out to me and ask me to make amends before it was too late. It was already too late. Her excuses included protecting her children, and anyone who has gay children is a failure as a parent. Another family member, who I'm very close to, pointed out a transgender person once when the family was out to dinner, asking me if I saw the "shim" and telling me that "this is why my kids are confused. They see that, and then they ask questions." Honey, your kids are confused, because you don't answer their questions. There's nothing to be confused about. Some people are born "different." Everyone is an individual. Everyone thinks and feels and acts differently. We all find pleasure in different things. We all feel pain differently, and express ourselves differently. Some of us are wired differently. The ones who lack the compassion to see that and explain that are the real problems. This same family member's husband got himself removed from Facebook, because we kept getting into the gun debate. Listen, I understand the desire or the need to have something to protect yourself. A pistol is enough. There is no reason for anything more than that. And until we, as a country, recognize that, there will never be peace here. We'll never be safe. Every single person in the country can have a firearm, and all that will do will cause constant shoot-outs and crazy behavior. I'm terrified. Constantly.
I've also come to realize that pretty much every single person in my family is a Trump supporter. All of them. They also disagree with the Black Lives Matter campaign, one of them going as far as to say "white people aren't racist, but guess who is!!!" I had one family member who I am directly related to tell me that "Trump will get things done," another one tell me that they supported Trump, "because he wants to make people afraid of America again." That same person told me they want to vote for him, because "he's not a politician. I hate politicians." Look, I agree that there are no good candidates this year. But, TRUMP?! Come on. I live every day becoming more and more disappointed in the people I love. The people who raised me, and shaped me, and nurtured me, are just disappointing human beings. And honestly, without Facebook, I wouldn't know any of this. This stuff doesn't come up during family dinners, because I guess we know better. Or, everyone at least assumes we're all on the same page.
I would be lying if I pretended to be an expert on politics. I'm not. I've never even voted (rest assured, I will be this year). It wasn't until I started dating Ben that I even started following politics at all. But, these are all people who do follow it. These are people who believe that a man who praised Saddam Hussein for being good at "killing terrorists", and who wants to build a wall to keep out immigrants, and who wants to ban an entire religion consisting of over a billion people, would somehow be a good president. This is a man who objectifies women on a daily basis, who doesn't believe they should have rights. I can't imagine that there are many non-white, working class citizens who support this man. I can't believe there are so many women who do. I can't believe he's legitimately a viable candidate for president. What the hell has happened to us? Why is there so much hatred in the world, and this country? We're supposed to be a civilized country, and we're not. We're supposed to be the example and we're not. Anyone who doubts that Trump will turn us into a war-torn third-world country is not paying attention at all. Same goes for the people who believe that the Orlando shooting was religiously motivated. It was a hate crime. Against the LGBT community. Plain and simple. It has been proven that the man who committed that mass murder had no ties with ISIS (who we created, by the way). But, we see his tan skin and read his ethnic name and we set out for revenge. I had another incredibly close family member tell me that all of the local Muslim restaurants have gone out of business, because the owners fled the country after Orlando, in fear of retaliation. I genuinely don't understand how that's all these people can focus on. How many mass murders have there been in this country in the last year? In the last month? This week? How many of them have actually been committed by a Muslim? And when they're not, do we ever acknowledge the religion of the person who committed it? The boys who committed the Columbine killing so many years ago asked their victims if they believed in God before killing them. Why is that not talked about? There are a lot of these killings that are religiously motivated, but since this person didn't look American (which is ridiculous anyway, because none of us are actually American), that's what gets talked about. Why aren't we focusing on the fact that this person set out to specifically kill members of the LGBT community? Why are we not focusing on the fact that even though he was investigated by the FBI, he was still allowed to purchase a weapon that allowed him to kill and injure so many people? He was involved in a shootout with police before even entering the building, so the whole "good guy with a gun" bullshit doesn't work here. I just can't do it anymore. I can't sit here and watch while a bunch of lunatics kill innocent people and then watch people I love defend the lunatics and propagate the hate that started it. We need to be better. All of us. I don't care what your religious views are. I don't care what your sexual orientation is, or your political beliefs, or what your bank account looks like. We need to come together as people and stop thinking that any of us are better than anyone else. We're not. You're not. Just stop it. Stop being a piece of shit. Read articles before you post them. Do some research on UN-BIASED websites and learn about what you're really putting out there. How did we get so divided? How did we get here? And how do I leave?
A while ago, I stopped adding family members on Facebook. I somehow ended up having completely opposite religious and political views from everyone in my entire family. This has caused issues on Facebook, and has led to instances where family members are no longer speaking to me. More recently, I've been deleting ones who are still left. My heart can't take it anymore. My heart can't take finding out that people I love and look up to are complete pieces of shit. How did they get there? Where does it come from? And what the hell happened to me that I'm nowhere near where they are on this stuff?
The most notorious instance is one that so many of my friends witnessed. I have a cousin - one whom I always admired and adored - who is no longer speaking to me. Last year, when gay marriage became legal across the country, as it should always have been, I posted a status in support of the new law. She posted a comment disagreeing with my support. She gave the usual objections: "if it's okay for them to wave a flag, why can't I wave one saying I'm straight?" "It's against God." Yadda, yadda. My messages blew up with LBGT friends telling me how stupid she was, and other friends telling me "thanks for the laughs." I had another cousin reach out to me and ask me to make amends before it was too late. It was already too late. Her excuses included protecting her children, and anyone who has gay children is a failure as a parent. Another family member, who I'm very close to, pointed out a transgender person once when the family was out to dinner, asking me if I saw the "shim" and telling me that "this is why my kids are confused. They see that, and then they ask questions." Honey, your kids are confused, because you don't answer their questions. There's nothing to be confused about. Some people are born "different." Everyone is an individual. Everyone thinks and feels and acts differently. We all find pleasure in different things. We all feel pain differently, and express ourselves differently. Some of us are wired differently. The ones who lack the compassion to see that and explain that are the real problems. This same family member's husband got himself removed from Facebook, because we kept getting into the gun debate. Listen, I understand the desire or the need to have something to protect yourself. A pistol is enough. There is no reason for anything more than that. And until we, as a country, recognize that, there will never be peace here. We'll never be safe. Every single person in the country can have a firearm, and all that will do will cause constant shoot-outs and crazy behavior. I'm terrified. Constantly.
I've also come to realize that pretty much every single person in my family is a Trump supporter. All of them. They also disagree with the Black Lives Matter campaign, one of them going as far as to say "white people aren't racist, but guess who is!!!" I had one family member who I am directly related to tell me that "Trump will get things done," another one tell me that they supported Trump, "because he wants to make people afraid of America again." That same person told me they want to vote for him, because "he's not a politician. I hate politicians." Look, I agree that there are no good candidates this year. But, TRUMP?! Come on. I live every day becoming more and more disappointed in the people I love. The people who raised me, and shaped me, and nurtured me, are just disappointing human beings. And honestly, without Facebook, I wouldn't know any of this. This stuff doesn't come up during family dinners, because I guess we know better. Or, everyone at least assumes we're all on the same page.
I would be lying if I pretended to be an expert on politics. I'm not. I've never even voted (rest assured, I will be this year). It wasn't until I started dating Ben that I even started following politics at all. But, these are all people who do follow it. These are people who believe that a man who praised Saddam Hussein for being good at "killing terrorists", and who wants to build a wall to keep out immigrants, and who wants to ban an entire religion consisting of over a billion people, would somehow be a good president. This is a man who objectifies women on a daily basis, who doesn't believe they should have rights. I can't imagine that there are many non-white, working class citizens who support this man. I can't believe there are so many women who do. I can't believe he's legitimately a viable candidate for president. What the hell has happened to us? Why is there so much hatred in the world, and this country? We're supposed to be a civilized country, and we're not. We're supposed to be the example and we're not. Anyone who doubts that Trump will turn us into a war-torn third-world country is not paying attention at all. Same goes for the people who believe that the Orlando shooting was religiously motivated. It was a hate crime. Against the LGBT community. Plain and simple. It has been proven that the man who committed that mass murder had no ties with ISIS (who we created, by the way). But, we see his tan skin and read his ethnic name and we set out for revenge. I had another incredibly close family member tell me that all of the local Muslim restaurants have gone out of business, because the owners fled the country after Orlando, in fear of retaliation. I genuinely don't understand how that's all these people can focus on. How many mass murders have there been in this country in the last year? In the last month? This week? How many of them have actually been committed by a Muslim? And when they're not, do we ever acknowledge the religion of the person who committed it? The boys who committed the Columbine killing so many years ago asked their victims if they believed in God before killing them. Why is that not talked about? There are a lot of these killings that are religiously motivated, but since this person didn't look American (which is ridiculous anyway, because none of us are actually American), that's what gets talked about. Why aren't we focusing on the fact that this person set out to specifically kill members of the LGBT community? Why are we not focusing on the fact that even though he was investigated by the FBI, he was still allowed to purchase a weapon that allowed him to kill and injure so many people? He was involved in a shootout with police before even entering the building, so the whole "good guy with a gun" bullshit doesn't work here. I just can't do it anymore. I can't sit here and watch while a bunch of lunatics kill innocent people and then watch people I love defend the lunatics and propagate the hate that started it. We need to be better. All of us. I don't care what your religious views are. I don't care what your sexual orientation is, or your political beliefs, or what your bank account looks like. We need to come together as people and stop thinking that any of us are better than anyone else. We're not. You're not. Just stop it. Stop being a piece of shit. Read articles before you post them. Do some research on UN-BIASED websites and learn about what you're really putting out there. How did we get so divided? How did we get here? And how do I leave?
Saturday, June 11, 2016
Love and Loss
Do we ever stop missing people? Does it ever not hurt? Are we ever able to just not think about someone anymore?
I've been so consumed with missing people lately. I wish desperately that I was one of those "out of sight, out of mind" people. I wish that once someone was out of my life, they just ceased to exist. But, I'm just not that person. I just look back on my life and think of all of the people who used to be there and now they're not. It doesn't matter the reason. Whether they're dead, moved away, or simply stopped being my friend for one reason or another, I just miss them. I used to be able to be angry at people for long periods of time. I used to be able to say that if that person screwed me over, or treated me badly, then they weren't worth having in my life. And I believe that. That's definitely true. But, it doesn't take away all of the good memories. It doesn't take away the missing. It doesn't make me feel any better about that particular presence no longer being in my life.
I experienced a lot of death at a fairly young age. At nine, I lost my stepbrother to a drunk driving accident. In early high school, I attended five funerals in six months; two for grandparents, two for fellow students, and one for my cousin's stillborn baby. It effected me far more deeply than I realized at the time. I've carried it with me my entire life. By the time the sixth one came around, I was completely numb. I didn't even cry. She was a friend of mine, and she was killed in a car accident in the middle of the day while on a break from summer school. One other person died with her that day, and two others were injured, one permanently, the other minor. I remember going to a concert the night of her funeral, which felt so weird to me at the time. Like, I shouldn't be out having fun after I just put my friend in the ground. But, I think I also knew I deserved that night. I think I also knew that after the year I'd had, I'd earned that night out. It was weird for all of us who went, because we were all friends with her. It was somber, but it was a needed fun night out.
My grandfather was buried on my 15th birthday that year. He was the third of the year. I'm still annoyed by the number of people who wished me happy birthday that day. Seriously? I think you're allowed to skip it this year. That was the last year I stopped counting down until my birthday.
I found out my grandmother died while I was at school. She was the first one that year. I was supposed to go to a diving meet after school to see my then-best friend compete. On my way there, another friend stopped me and told me I should probably go home. She'd heard from my cousin that my grandmother had died. I went home, saw my mom (it was my dad's mom who died), and then went back to the meet.
The second one was a fellow student, who I didn't know well, but who was good friends with my brother. He was active in many extra curriculars, including marching band, which I was in, but he was suffering from cancer, so wasn't participating that particular year. He died before the year was out. I found out while I was helping my school host the annual jazz band championships, which was an excuse to hang out with friends all night.
And the fifth one of the year was my cousin's baby (I did not intend to talk about all of these, or go in a random order, I'm just kinda going with what I'm feeling). She was six months pregnant. I found out she lost the baby the day I got home from a camping trip. It was exactly a week after my grandfather. She was only twenty years old, and was getting married in two weeks. I have never seen someone so distraught in my entire life and I'll never forget it. Even then, I was confused about how something so beautiful and exciting could turn into something so sad. It was a shit year. Which started off with me breaking up with my boyfriend at the time. He was loss #1. Then the rest followed. I can't believe I survived that. I don't want to say I've gotten over any of those deaths, because I haven't, but I did eventually learn to live with it. However, I do wonder if that's because there were so many of them, that I just became numb after a while. I obsessed over that ex-boyfriend for years after that, because it was easier to try to win him back than to focus on the people I couldn't get back. Of course, I didn't know that's why I was doing it at the time, but you know, hindsight, etc, etc.
The deaths slowed down after that, but obviously didn't stop. There was an uncle, another grandparent, an aunt, and some other people I knew through friends and family members. Some of them hurt more than others. And then there was my stepdad on New Years Day 2013. I would never have considered us close, but Jesus H. Christ, I miss him. And the thing is, I knew I would. He was always sick with something, and I remember thinking to myself so often how weird it would be without him. I remember several times telling myself to be more present in his life, because he wouldn't be around forever (he was about 15 years older than my mom). I knew he'd go before we were ready to let him. And he did. And I've thought of him every single day since then. I drive by the cemetery where he's buried almost every day (it's about five miles from my apartment). Every time I look at the shoddy job I did hanging the shelves in my living room I think of him. Every time my niece and my nephew reach a new milestone, I think how proud he would be and how much of their lives he's missing (God, he loved them). I wonder if he'd be proud of me. I wonder if my mom's okay. I get consumed with her loneliness sometimes, because I simply can't imagine losing someone you've built your life with. It terrifies me to think that I might be in that position some day, too. Every time Ben goes out for a cigarette, I think that I could someday live the same fate as my mother, when I bury my husband with decades left to live without him. He's irreplaceable, and his loss has made waves in humanity. In all of humanity. He is missed by so many people, more than he could ever possibly have believed.
Sometimes, though, the hardest losses are the ones who don't die. They're the ones who simply fade away. They're the ones who choose not to be in your life, or the ones you choose not to have there. Those ones hurt, because they are personal. I lost an entire second family, and a whole set of friends when I got divorced. And while I won't go as far as to say I miss them all, there are certain presences that I miss. There are certain people who have left a void that can't be filled. There were family members who felt like I'd known them my entire life. Sisters who felt like my own. A nephew who will never, ever know how much I adored him. Those losses are heavy. There are two or three of those friends who I'm still in touch with on Facebook, but who I don't see. I knew how much I'd be losing when I got the divorce. I knew I wouldn't make it out without any casualties. What I didn't know was how much it would still hurt three years later. I didn't know there would still be repercussions from that three years later. I didn't know I would still be having people tell me, "I don't want to hear from you anymore." There were two in the last two weeks. One not so surprising, but still agonizing in an infuriating way. And one, much more painful, because her feelings were a mystery to me. Why do I care, though? Why do I still care about these people who haven't been a part of my life in three years? Why do I still think constantly about the ones I lost? I feel like it prevents me from truly appreciating the ones I do have. I say all the time that I don't have any friends. And when I'm in a pinch, and need someone to talk to, I can't think of anyone to call or text. But, when I calm myself down, I think, "there are so many people I met through school who would totally be willing to talk to me about this right now." I look around sometimes and wonder if Ben and I broke up, what would I have left? Who would there still be in my life? Most of the friends I have now are his. The people I see on a regular basis are either my family, or his friends. I don't have any regulars in my own life. And that terrifies me, because that's what happened last time. I built my life around the person I was with, and when that ended I lost everything. All of it. And I feel like I'm still picking up the pieces.
When do I stop missing those people? When does it stop hurting every single day? I've heard people say after losing a loved one that you don't get over it, you just learn to live with it. But, how? I think of all of the people I've lost in the first 30 years of my life and I can't imagine the amount of hurting and loss and emptiness I'll feel in 30 more. How does anyone survive to old age? How do we keep getting ourselves up every morning knowing that it's just one less day that we have with certain people? I don't want to be the person who only has her significant other and the family they build. Because, I know better than anyone that that can change in the blink of an eye. I need more than that. But, that can all change too.
How do we live with it? All the loss and the missing and the emptiness that builds and builds over our lifetimes? It's immeasurable. How do we not drown in that misery and let it consume us? Sixty years of loss seems like too much to me.
I've been so consumed with missing people lately. I wish desperately that I was one of those "out of sight, out of mind" people. I wish that once someone was out of my life, they just ceased to exist. But, I'm just not that person. I just look back on my life and think of all of the people who used to be there and now they're not. It doesn't matter the reason. Whether they're dead, moved away, or simply stopped being my friend for one reason or another, I just miss them. I used to be able to be angry at people for long periods of time. I used to be able to say that if that person screwed me over, or treated me badly, then they weren't worth having in my life. And I believe that. That's definitely true. But, it doesn't take away all of the good memories. It doesn't take away the missing. It doesn't make me feel any better about that particular presence no longer being in my life.
I experienced a lot of death at a fairly young age. At nine, I lost my stepbrother to a drunk driving accident. In early high school, I attended five funerals in six months; two for grandparents, two for fellow students, and one for my cousin's stillborn baby. It effected me far more deeply than I realized at the time. I've carried it with me my entire life. By the time the sixth one came around, I was completely numb. I didn't even cry. She was a friend of mine, and she was killed in a car accident in the middle of the day while on a break from summer school. One other person died with her that day, and two others were injured, one permanently, the other minor. I remember going to a concert the night of her funeral, which felt so weird to me at the time. Like, I shouldn't be out having fun after I just put my friend in the ground. But, I think I also knew I deserved that night. I think I also knew that after the year I'd had, I'd earned that night out. It was weird for all of us who went, because we were all friends with her. It was somber, but it was a needed fun night out.
My grandfather was buried on my 15th birthday that year. He was the third of the year. I'm still annoyed by the number of people who wished me happy birthday that day. Seriously? I think you're allowed to skip it this year. That was the last year I stopped counting down until my birthday.
I found out my grandmother died while I was at school. She was the first one that year. I was supposed to go to a diving meet after school to see my then-best friend compete. On my way there, another friend stopped me and told me I should probably go home. She'd heard from my cousin that my grandmother had died. I went home, saw my mom (it was my dad's mom who died), and then went back to the meet.
The second one was a fellow student, who I didn't know well, but who was good friends with my brother. He was active in many extra curriculars, including marching band, which I was in, but he was suffering from cancer, so wasn't participating that particular year. He died before the year was out. I found out while I was helping my school host the annual jazz band championships, which was an excuse to hang out with friends all night.
And the fifth one of the year was my cousin's baby (I did not intend to talk about all of these, or go in a random order, I'm just kinda going with what I'm feeling). She was six months pregnant. I found out she lost the baby the day I got home from a camping trip. It was exactly a week after my grandfather. She was only twenty years old, and was getting married in two weeks. I have never seen someone so distraught in my entire life and I'll never forget it. Even then, I was confused about how something so beautiful and exciting could turn into something so sad. It was a shit year. Which started off with me breaking up with my boyfriend at the time. He was loss #1. Then the rest followed. I can't believe I survived that. I don't want to say I've gotten over any of those deaths, because I haven't, but I did eventually learn to live with it. However, I do wonder if that's because there were so many of them, that I just became numb after a while. I obsessed over that ex-boyfriend for years after that, because it was easier to try to win him back than to focus on the people I couldn't get back. Of course, I didn't know that's why I was doing it at the time, but you know, hindsight, etc, etc.
The deaths slowed down after that, but obviously didn't stop. There was an uncle, another grandparent, an aunt, and some other people I knew through friends and family members. Some of them hurt more than others. And then there was my stepdad on New Years Day 2013. I would never have considered us close, but Jesus H. Christ, I miss him. And the thing is, I knew I would. He was always sick with something, and I remember thinking to myself so often how weird it would be without him. I remember several times telling myself to be more present in his life, because he wouldn't be around forever (he was about 15 years older than my mom). I knew he'd go before we were ready to let him. And he did. And I've thought of him every single day since then. I drive by the cemetery where he's buried almost every day (it's about five miles from my apartment). Every time I look at the shoddy job I did hanging the shelves in my living room I think of him. Every time my niece and my nephew reach a new milestone, I think how proud he would be and how much of their lives he's missing (God, he loved them). I wonder if he'd be proud of me. I wonder if my mom's okay. I get consumed with her loneliness sometimes, because I simply can't imagine losing someone you've built your life with. It terrifies me to think that I might be in that position some day, too. Every time Ben goes out for a cigarette, I think that I could someday live the same fate as my mother, when I bury my husband with decades left to live without him. He's irreplaceable, and his loss has made waves in humanity. In all of humanity. He is missed by so many people, more than he could ever possibly have believed.
Sometimes, though, the hardest losses are the ones who don't die. They're the ones who simply fade away. They're the ones who choose not to be in your life, or the ones you choose not to have there. Those ones hurt, because they are personal. I lost an entire second family, and a whole set of friends when I got divorced. And while I won't go as far as to say I miss them all, there are certain presences that I miss. There are certain people who have left a void that can't be filled. There were family members who felt like I'd known them my entire life. Sisters who felt like my own. A nephew who will never, ever know how much I adored him. Those losses are heavy. There are two or three of those friends who I'm still in touch with on Facebook, but who I don't see. I knew how much I'd be losing when I got the divorce. I knew I wouldn't make it out without any casualties. What I didn't know was how much it would still hurt three years later. I didn't know there would still be repercussions from that three years later. I didn't know I would still be having people tell me, "I don't want to hear from you anymore." There were two in the last two weeks. One not so surprising, but still agonizing in an infuriating way. And one, much more painful, because her feelings were a mystery to me. Why do I care, though? Why do I still care about these people who haven't been a part of my life in three years? Why do I still think constantly about the ones I lost? I feel like it prevents me from truly appreciating the ones I do have. I say all the time that I don't have any friends. And when I'm in a pinch, and need someone to talk to, I can't think of anyone to call or text. But, when I calm myself down, I think, "there are so many people I met through school who would totally be willing to talk to me about this right now." I look around sometimes and wonder if Ben and I broke up, what would I have left? Who would there still be in my life? Most of the friends I have now are his. The people I see on a regular basis are either my family, or his friends. I don't have any regulars in my own life. And that terrifies me, because that's what happened last time. I built my life around the person I was with, and when that ended I lost everything. All of it. And I feel like I'm still picking up the pieces.
When do I stop missing those people? When does it stop hurting every single day? I've heard people say after losing a loved one that you don't get over it, you just learn to live with it. But, how? I think of all of the people I've lost in the first 30 years of my life and I can't imagine the amount of hurting and loss and emptiness I'll feel in 30 more. How does anyone survive to old age? How do we keep getting ourselves up every morning knowing that it's just one less day that we have with certain people? I don't want to be the person who only has her significant other and the family they build. Because, I know better than anyone that that can change in the blink of an eye. I need more than that. But, that can all change too.
How do we live with it? All the loss and the missing and the emptiness that builds and builds over our lifetimes? It's immeasurable. How do we not drown in that misery and let it consume us? Sixty years of loss seems like too much to me.
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