Becoming Real

I was talking to my therapist this morning about how I feel in many ways like it is possible to control others.  I fully realize that it is an illusion, but what happens in reality is that we get a lot of positive feedback from our efforts.  The illusion goes like this:  We know other people really well.  We know how they respond to us.  So, we manipulate them by speaking or acting a certain way to get a predictable response or reaction.  We know them well enough that we can use our knowledge to tweak the situation and get the response we desire.  

I gave him an example of someone stepping on my foot.  I know they would prefer not to hurt me, so I tell them, "ouch! You are stepping on my foot. It really hurts.  Get off of my foot."  They remove their foot.  See? I just controlled that person.

"Ah," he says, "but it's not all black and white." There are those who are in denial of hurting you.  They'll say something like, "that's not my foot," or "I'm not stepping on it so hard it will hurt you." Or, there are those who deflect your pain and make it theirs by saying, "it's not that bad. My foot hurts, too. Someone stepped on my foot yesterday, AND my shoes are too small." Or, worse, they stand their ground and ask, "what kind of person do you think I am?  I would never hurt you," but they don't remove their foot, and now they are a martyr because you accused them of doing the unthinkable. 

When someone does that, it becomes very confusing.  After a while, you stop complaining that you are being hurt because no one is listening.  You lose touch, bit by bit, with your identity because the pain is now your destiny.

I believe in my heart I can tell someone that they are hurting me and that they will stop, but in reality there are those who just don't see the pain they cause.  They probably never will, and I can't change that.  I can tell them they are hurting me until I am blue in the face, and they will contend that I am wrong and they are right.

Pinocchio had a lot of lessons to learn.

This battle between the emotional and logical brain is frustrating, and it's where my fulcrum lies for personal growth and self-awareness.  How many times has something been so obvious, yet so foreign?  It seems like I have a knowledge about something that is plain and obvious but I can't GET IT emotionally.  I don't get it because I've been imprinted from early on. Why would someone not remove their foot from mine if they hear the words, "you are hurting me"?  My core emotional being tells me that if I just keep trying to tell them how hurtful they are, they will stop hurting me.  Or, it tells me to surrender.  Surrender because I am a prisoner to pain, and the abuser will never stop and they are the ones in control, and the world is unfair by nature.  My emotional self is very confused.  My logical self can see the truth.  It says, "theirs is emotionally abusive behavior." There are those who will never remove their foot, and that they will always believe they are righteous, and I know this to be true because it is what I have experienced. My therapist nailed it.  So, what do I do with this information?

I have to pledge to myself that I will stand up and speak up when someone is being hurtful.  I have to pledge to myself that I won't allow shame to creep in because I stood up and took up space that is rightly mine.  I can't let myself surrender to a destiny of pain.  If someone doesn't get off my foot because they are in denial of hurting me, I will call for others to help me see what is truly happening, and name it what it is.  This illusion of power over others is how we strip one another of our true selves, our identities.  I'd like to have the power to say "stop" and therefore make it so, but I can't.  I don't really hold their puppet strings at all; and neither do they hold mine.  

I have to recognize that continuing to fall for the slight-of-hand, the illusion of power over others, is enabling others to feel like they are in control, or enabling me to believe that I have power over them.  It gets me trapped in victimhood, a spiral of shame, and it is a distraction from growth and self-awareness. Who am I, really?  How can I figure it out if I'm stuck under someone else's set of rules that play to my emotions instead of actual logic?  I can't.  I have to get some tools, get out from underfoot, and avoid the trap in the future.  It's okay to liberate myself from oppression and to reject their martyrdom.  I am also permitted to care that they are being hurtful or abusive, to feel the pain and name it for what it is so that I empower myself, and don't resort to throwing in the towel.  I can climb off the crazy train and work towards my own sanity.

Dear Family:

I'm going to begin with, "I love you," because I do.  I don't always understand you, and you don't always understand me.  I think where there is misunderstanding, resentments can fester.  How can we bridge the gap of understanding?  I think a certain amount of willingness is key.  Are you willing to learn more about me, and to understand me so that we can move beyond the edges of resentment?  Ok, you're willing?  Now, what is required is listening.  The trouble is, effective listening isn't something everyone is capable of.  If we were capable of it, we wouldn't be in this pickle.  It's a learned behavior.  Search the internet for "Active Listening."  Practice it.  If I tell you something from the heart, your job is to receive that information.  That is all.  Just receive it.  Don't meddle with it, turn it upside down and shake it, and please don't make it about you.  Now that you've actually listened to me with an objective ear, you might be a little bit closer to understanding me.  If you aren't, then you need more practice.  

I love you and I would like to be given the chance to listen to you, too.  Are you looking for deeper, more honest relationships?  I am.  I hear that you might not want to get too close to other people's flames, but honestly, what kind of life is it to refuse to acknowledge the discomfort of others?  Tell me what makes you uncomfortable so I don't have to guess. Sometimes, when you bottle that stuff in, your idea of reality is nowhere near the truth, and you've been worried about something that doesn't exist.  Challenge yourself to find an interpretation that isn't dramatic or traumatic. Own your pain. Let other people own their pain. You can't have mine and I don't want yours! Don't try to take control of my struggle and make it yours. 

I love you, but generalizations about me aren't helpful.  If you tell me that I always act a certain way and I'm behaving in a typical pattern, you are demonstrating your lack of awareness of my growth.  I'm a dynamic person, and I am always changing.  So are you.  If you peg me into a square hole in your head, you'll never get to experience my roundness.  If you have bought into the idea that people don't change, there are no legitimate studies that support your claim.  Quite the opposite.  If you keep expecting people to not change, you aren't leaving them any room for growth. Sometimes, it's easier to act out expected roles than to deal with the pushback of change. You probably don't want to be responsible for hindering another person's growth.  Keep your eyes open for humans exploring their potential.  And, please, explore your own. You aren't trapped. I would love to see you grow.  It's happening whether you admit it or not, so let's celebrate your growth and change.

I love you, but when you question my choices, you question my humanity.  You don't get to play God with my choices, especially at my age.  If you don't like how I present myself, or who I spend my time with, or if you think that I am hurting someone by being my true self, or if you refuse to be in parts of my life but want full access to other parts, something is really wrong with your concept of "love and support."  You don't get to come into my life only if I continue to act in ways that don't disrupt your concept of who I am.  You are afraid of something, but it isn't me. If the people I surround myself with make you uncomfortable, consider that they may be my chosen family.  You get to choose whether or not you accept my chosen family, but you don't get to reject my family and then complain that I never call or visit you.  It shouldn't have to be an act of bravery for me to show up in my true form, but it is.  I have had to work on being brave all my life. I'd like to see you be brave and accept my true form -- my shifting, growing, true self.

I love you, but acting out of shame and fear is not love.  When you protect the tender feelings of others from my reality and my truth, you are not doing anyone any favors.  When I embarrass you because I did something you think is inappropriate, that is your shame talking, and it has nothing to do with me.  Shame has no place in loving relationships.  Shame is the most damaging and isolating act you can impose on another, especially if you are calling it "love." Calling fear and shame "love" is really confusing. I am working on becoming resilient to your shaming and fear and I'm learning what love really is.  It's your work, too.  I don't know who taught you these tools of shame and fear, but they were wrong to do so.

Some day, we're all going to be dead.  I have one chance at this life, and I recognize that you might miss me now as if I am already gone. I'm not.  I'm here, ready to sit down to dinner with you, but on my terms of mutual respect and dignity.  I won't accept an invitation with caveats of rejection.  I won't be treated as if I am less-than, an embarrassment, or that I've made poor choices, just so I can gain your approval.  I love you, and I accept that you might not like my terms.  The invitation still stands.

Live. Let live. Repeat.

LGBTQ folks who come out late in life often struggle with the shame and guilt of "living a lie."

Society pushes us into a closet and when we step out, we apologise. The world fails us and who do we blame?  Ourselves. I know my truth hurts other people, but I am not responsible for everyone else's well-being at my expense.  I am worthy of living my truth, as we all are.

Shall we gather at the river?

The human body is said to be around 60% water, and our vital organs can contain as much as 83% water.  It's no wonder that good medical advice nearly always includes drinking plenty of water.  It's not something I find easy to do, but as I age, I think I may come to regret it if I don't develop a good water consumption habit.

Some of my favorite hymns are about water and rivers. Flowing water has long been a metaphor for spirit, grief, life, change, renewal, washing away our pain, community, and about a determination to do what is right.  Water is life.  This isn't just a slogan meant to make you feel guilty for driving a car that requires oil that threatens indigenous water supplies. Water is required for life on our planet.  We know this.  And, we are made of water.

Civilizations gather and grow at rivers.  These fresh water sources eventually come to be thought of as property, and with property comes control.  We grow our bodies of water by damming streams and rivers and containing it in reservoirs and tanks.  But water always fights us, and its force nearly always leads it to where it was originally going. Dams break, channels are subverted, diversions find a shortcut and floods come, regardless of our concrete walls and levees.  Last year, I was in the

https://earthobservatory.nasa.gov/images/46820/nile-river-delta-at-night

town of Angangueo, Mexico, where a flood and mudslides had destroyed a thousand homes, killing more than 30 people along a stream in February of 2010.  The state's solution was to bury the creek below, where no one can see it.  This has given the residents of Angangueo no peace of mind.  They know that burying the channel is not going to save them in the next big rain event. Water will find its own path. This diversion of the water may cause them a lot of pain.


And, just like the water in our blood and in our big human brains, we find our own paths.  We spend a lot of energy trying to divert the paths of others, trying to manipulate the outcome so that we can reap the benefits of our neighboring water-bodies.  To do so is futile.  I am surrounded by people who I would love to be able to change.  Aren't we all?  But some of those people have been hurt along their journey, and often times those who are hurting will try to hurt others.  We know this to be true.

 Sirens represent the power of
water to challenge
our illusions of control.

  "Hurt people hurt people." But hurt people can also choose a path of healing.  That is their path, their channel, their direction, and their destiny to determine, not mine.  If someone chooses to be kind, they will find a way to be kind.  If someone chooses to criticize me, their criticism might give them the illusion of power to change me, but at most it will divert my flow until I get back onto my own path.

The human in me wants to whine, stomp my feet and complain, "how stupid, this idea that people will be themselves no matter what I do!  I am supposed to be in charge of other people's actions and reactions.  How can I be in control of my life if I can't control those around me?"

I have no power to change anyone.  I am water, you are water.  I can provide stability like deep-rooted plants to someone else's banks. I can offer support, love and compassion when their pain overspills their banks onto others.  If I let other people divert my path, I could be letting them harm me.  I have to assume that when I try to divert others, I am harming them as well.

A Sufi Parable, The Tale of the Sands  

High in a far off mountain, a stream started in a little spring. The stream flung itself at the desert, but each time it did so, it disappeared. But if its destiny was to cross that desert, it would surely find a way.

The wind could cross the desert, and the stream realized that it could allow itself to be absorbed by the wind, carried across the desert as vapor, and reappear on the other side as rain. But the stream didn't like that idea, saying, "I have my own identity... I won't be the same stream that I am now."

Eventually, the stream did allow itself to be carried across the desert by the wind, who carried it beyond the horizon, and let it fall softly at the top of a new mountain, and the stream began to understand who it really was, and what it meant to be a stream.

And that is why it is said that the way in which the Stream of Life is to continue on its journey is written in the Sands. 

A long version of this story can be found here: https://www.schoolofsufiteaching.org/the-parable-of-the-stream-and-the-desert.html

Drop the rope

When I was a kid, my dad taught me that if someone wants to pick a fight with me, just don't show up to the fight. It's kind of like when people play tug of war with you and you don't want the war to continue, you drop the proverbial rope.

A few years ago, I went off script and started conducting my own existence, rather than letting society or my elders determine my path.  I did this with the greatest ethical concern that I could muster at the time. I had extensive conversations with my spouse, and we agreed together that we could define our relationship however we wanted to.  No one else gets to define our marriage.  Society doesn't get to dictate how we relate.  Society defines marriage as between a man and a woman -- two people are legally bound to each other and are expected to have children, own property together, live together, sleep together, have sex with each other exclusively, and so on.

I'm 48 years old, and I came out as a lesbian a couple of years ago.  With my husbands knowledge and blessing, I'd started a relationship with a woman. She and I are still in that relationship today.  I am remaining married to my husband of now 25 years, and we are committed to parenting our two

teenage daughters.  Is this confusing?  Maybe it confounds those who want to put me in a patriarchal, heteronormative box.  Those people expect certain behaviors of women, in marriage, or of humans in general.  Those expectations have nothing to do with morality or ethics.  They are social constructs.  Those boxes, those confines, those expectations have been harming my very humanity all of my life.

Straight folks as well as LGBTQ folks might say that I should've never gotten married and had kids, and brought other humans into this confusing situation. I say keep on walking in your own shoes.  Mine don't fit you.

There is no road map for my life.  There are no self-help books. There is only me in this big world, trying to navigate around a bunch of rules that deny my identity, shame and condemn me.  I contend that if you aren't happy with me now, you wouldn't have been happy with me 30 years ago when I "should have" come out.  Those who shame and condemn the LGBTQ community will always find a reason to do so. That is their Modus Operandi. We can't expect them to change.  What I have to do is learn not to let them hurt me, and to be my authentic self regardless of the pushback.  I can't express to you how unfair that feels.  I have to tolerate them, even though they can't affirm and accept me.  I've been told, "I love you, but I can't participate in your lifestyle choices."  I have to accept that they do not understand love the same way I do, and that is their character flaw, not mine.

I am choosing to grow and change into my own ever-renewing and beautiful skin.  I am looking out for the people in the same boat with me, and I am banding together with them, if not in person, in spirit.  I will seek out those who I know have been harmed by the same people and actions that have harmed me, and I will not participate in condemnation or exclusion.  I will invite them to dinner with my girlfriend, and we will be in community together, if they choose. I will tell those who offer to love me how much gratitude I have for their loving acceptance.  I have friends whose well-loved children are in the LGBTQ community and I will tell them that I appreciate their parenting of their own children and of those they adopt as children in situ.

We can't live together if we are defining each other's paths. Nobody wants that for themselves. I acknowledge and accept you for who you choose to be, whatever side of the fence you're on.  I'm nearly a half-century old and some people think its their right to wag fingers at me for my "choices."  I'm not even going to tell them to get over themselves.  That's their work. I am dropping that rope. I've got my hands full, working on healing myself and being the best me I can be.

6th Grade Safety Policy: Bi Sexuals in the Classroom

I received an email that was meant for someone else.  Here is what it said, followed by my reply.

On Wed, Oct 11, 2017 at 10:49 AM "F" wrote:

Good morning K,

During group work today G came over to our new student A and told her that she was “bi sexual.” I talked to G and she admitted this to me also stating that A asked her, I talked to our new student who confirmed this. I told the students about safe school policy and that we can’t have conversations about this at school including crushes.

I am wondering how you want me to proceed.

Thanks, 

Mr. F.

6th Grade Teacher

X Elementary

Mr. F,

As a gay woman who was surrounded by homophobic societal norms that caused me to suppress and deny my own truth for decades, I would love to have a conversation about this. However, the email was intended for someone else. I do not have a child at X Elementary. I suspect that my views on the matter are easily dismissible since I do not have a vote. 

However…Consider that the leading cause of suicide among teens and pre-teens is the feeling of isolation and loneliness.  This incidence increases dramatically for children who identify as LGBTQ. Safety is not found in isolation. It is in acceptance and love. 

A "safe" school policy does not include one where our children are taught to only define themselves in ways that are "normal."  Sexuality is a part of being human. Feeling safe in one's own skin starts at a young age, with one's peers and adult mentors. 

Please consider yourself the potential first point of loving acceptance in every child's journey of self-discovery. I guarantee that any child you have in your class who defines themselves as LGBTQ now or in the future will need someone in their lives who they consider "safe" when they face their authentic selves. Are you that person? Or are you someone who is teaching them to hide their own truth?  That is the path to isolation, depression, anxiety and worse. 

With love in my heart for you and those kids,

Angie Babbit 

Mary had a little lamb, Its fleece was white as snow; And everywhere that Mary went, The lamb was sure to go. He followed her to school one day— That was against the rule; It made the children laugh and play, To see a lamb at school. So the teacher turned him out, But still he lingered near, And waited patiently about Till Mary did appear. Then he ran to her, and laid His head upon her arm, As if he said, I'm not afraid,You'll keep me from all harm.

Dear Straight People:

I was at a book club and we were talking about the merits of other book clubs.  A guy started talking about someone in another book club who I didn't know, and about how this other guy isn't coming to terms with his sexuality.  He went on at length about his gay behaviors, and how he's married, in denial about being gay, and so on.  I hear this conversation all the time.  People like to speculate about who is gay and then tell everyone else how that should be dealt with.  Usually, the person doing it thinks it's funny.

Stop it, Straight People.  Stop speculating about other people's sexuality and then acting like you've got a clue what it's like to be non-heteronormative. And, it's not funny. It's really pretty hostile.

I said to this guy, "It sure seems like you have taken an unusual interest in determining who is gay and who isn't."

"Maybe I have," he said, smirking.

I asked, "What about me? Am I gay?"

His smirk disappeared and he said, "Well, that's none of my business!"

Suddenly, when I'm in the room with him, face-to-face, it's not his business.  But he can talk all he wants about this other guy.

Just stop it.  Straight People, listen to me.  You don't know what it's like to fear the threat of exposure, exclusion, deep loss and even violence for having intimate relationships that are not "normal" like yours.

You might think that you know, because you're liberal-minded and empathetic.  If you're open, accepting, etc.,  stop this presumption and start using language that indicates you care about everyone, all the time, even if they're not there. Demanding to know is entitlement. Demanding secrecy is equally wrong.  Their story isn't your story. You don't get to decide any of this for someone else, thank goodness.

I said to this guy, "You're right. It's none of your business.  But if you want people to open up to you about stuff like this, they have to feel safe doing it, especially in a small-group setting like a book club." The other people in the group just kind of sat there, smiling. I wasn't sure what to make of it.

Did I just come out to this group of casual acquaintances?  Now what do they think of me? I didn't panic.  The proverbial sky did not fall.  I felt like vomiting, but I didn't.  You see, Straight People, my experience told me that I might later get punched in the face, or worse, so it was a little scary.

Let's just say for a moment that in 2017, all LGBTQ people have no reason to fear future retribution for coming out.  Let's say that our utopian society has reached a point of utter acceptance of all.  (It goes without saying, this is not the reality.)  Should all non-straight people simply ignore their prior experiences that clearly paint another picture?  Our unique human experiences and the emotions surrounding our experiences drive our decisions.

There are entire societies where the trauma of the ancestors dictates behavior.  In Transylvania, there are elders who still refuse to practice their religion openly because of torture and persecution by an Italian soldier, many generations ago in the 1570s. I make my decisions about who gets to see my true light based on an invisible line of safety. When I feel like I'm toeing the line, my stomach starts to heave, like right now.

So guess what, Straight People. Nobody owes you their truth, especially if you act entitled to it. Sometimes you can't see that you are acting entitled, and you can't ever see the world 100% from the perspective of others, despite how hard you try.  But, if you really do care about someone and want to support them, you could start by asking them questions and offering your support.  And if their truth disappoints or frightens you? Maybe you should take a good look at your own experiences and dig down into the dirt of what makes you feel that way. It is about goddamned time you start working on you.

Open Letter to the Man Who Kissed Me Today

Dear sir,

Today, there was an awkward moment when our lunch group was dispersing.  Everyone was hugging goodbyes, so I went ahead and reluctantly hugged you.  When my head went left, yours went the same direction, and you said, "I almost kissed you!" I was less than thrilled.  When you held me tighter than I wanted and you actually kissed my cheek, I understand why you did that, even though I had already said to you, "No! You will not!"  I understand you quite well.  You were laughing, and I may have laughed it off in the moment, but I'm telling you now that it was not funny. It was not just a funny kiss on the cheek.  You may wonder why I'll never let you hug me again.  I'll explain, even though it's not my job to school you because you're a grown man, and you surely know the rules by now.

You know that women don't want to be kissed when they say, "Don't kiss me."  But there's something you may not know.  You aren't the only one who acts like you don't know the rules.  I don't blame you for not knowing that your kiss represents the boy who groped my breasts twice in the hallways of my high school over 27 years ago.  The boy laughed, too. You wouldn't know that your kiss would remind me of the teacher who stopped me from chasing that boy so I could pummel him, and that the teacher asked me what I did to provoke the boy.

You probably thought I provoked you when my head came near yours.  It was supposed to just be a goodbye hug among friends.  But when I hugged you, you didn't know that in my first job I'd been subjected to unsolicited touching by men who were all my superiors.  You didn't know that when I told them to stop they acted like I had insulted their honor. How would you know that your kiss that I tried to stop would trigger a bad memory of when I told one aggressive coworker that he didn't understand the word "no." He acted like I'd accused him of rape, and he was so injured that he thankfully stopped coming around to my cubicle for a chat. When you kissed me you didn't know that you'd already made me uncomfortable the previous times you hugged me, by rubbing my back and lingering too long. I didn't make that clear, because it's not my job to tell you that I don't want you invading my space.  You're just supposed to be decent about that.

You didn't know that this is serious business. You assume I like it because I'm a nice person and I don't call you out like that bitch who suggests a guy doesn't know what "no" means.  So I also don't blame you for being dense because that seems to be how you get a pass every time you do this shit to women. Did you know that when I tell people about your actions they say, "Oh, he just doesn't get it. He means well..."?

Did you know that people don't believe you are in control of your own words and actions?  People say that about you, poor thing.  Remember that one time you told a joke about how you like women who can't escape you, and people just rolled their eyes?  I didn't roll mine. I was appalled and said, "That doesn't surprise me at all," and you kept on smiling. I think they roll their eyes because you generally put up a "good guy" front. People in the community like you because you do all kinds of good things. You're a liberal, peace-loving hippie with a penchant for making a certain demographic of women very uncomfortable, like when the waitress thought we were together and you suggested she thought we were lovers. No, that is not funny, and I told you so. And when women complain about it, you do that "I'm so misunderstood" thing and act confused and sad.  Let me tell you, that behavior is manipulative and lacks accountability.  It indulges the people who only see the good guy in you, and vilifies the people who have accused you of wrongdoing.

I once was acquainted with another good guy. The kids in the neighborhood loved him. He punched me in the face once because I ventured over see what kinds of fun things were going on at the swing set. When that punk died in a bar fight everyone was shocked that their beloved friend was gone. Not me. They wouldn't know that my knowledge of his violent temper put this little girl in a jam when he and some other boys told me to show them my body. I told them no, but they held me captive, just like you did.  I didn't want to get punched again, so I did it.  You have that peaceful front, but you do not remind me of peace.  You reminded me of these and so many other things -- That I've been bitten and grabbed. I've been punched and assaulted. I've been forced against a wall and pinned down with people watching and doing nothing but roll their eyes. I've been kissed by someone who heard me say firmly and clearly, "No, you will not."  And your reply was, "Oh, yes I will."  You actually said that to me.  Asshole.

Every time I tell someone who knows you well that this is who you are, they give you a pass.  But the next time you pull this shit you might feel the rage of a hundred wrongs done to me, including your own. (And I will see you again, because I refuse to avoid doing things because you might be there.) But if you touch me when I said no, I might become so angry that I will shout, "NO! I TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH ME, [your name, loudly here]!"to all the people on the street and all of your non-judgmental friends. I might swing an elbow or swiftly lift a knee. I am that angry.  I don't expect that this letter will ever reach anyone who will be sorry for being like you, because you really are a very dense lot.  I don't expect you to change, but be warned that I refuse to be silent.  I might be projecting a lot of anger at you that you don't fully deserve, but now you know where it's coming from.

In truth,
Angie

Plasticity

Ancient buried seas
Deep pergatorial deposits
Dredged up from the earth
Processed and refined
A contorted version of earth spirit
Bent and boiled to serve us.

We fill-er-up
Throw her down
Float her away
For Albatross and crab
The sacred  microplasm
of primordial ooze
Toxified and confused.

Cervicogenic Vertigo

I'm in physical therapy to address some dizziness issues.  The therapist told me to do some stretches, and I'll be in PT twice a week for four weeks.

The therapist prescribed some "take it easy, and don't do anything strenuous or symptom-inducing."  So, of course I went for a swim at the gym.  I've had a gym membership at Genesis throughout all of this, and it was mostly unused from May until now.  Someone mentioned I should talk to the front desk and see if I could get my membership adjusted so that my contract could be extended.

What could it hurt to ask? So, after my somewhat strenuous and often disorienting swim, I went to the front desk, and a severe-looking female personal trainer took my name down on a sticky note and walked back to an office.  When she returned, her lumbersexual manager was with her and he asked if he could help me.

I explained that I'd not been able to come to the gym because I'd been diagnosed with cancer, and was wondering if my contract could be extended for those months.  As I expected, he said he would need some kind of proof.  I asked, can I bring in my lab results, or does he need a note from the doctor?  The answer was yes.  He wanted to see it all.  I expected this,  but I didn't anticipate that it would feel so humiliating.  I showed him my scar, but that wasn't enough.  He sees lots of requests like this every day.  I explained I was trying to get into the gym, but even now it's hard, because of the vertigo.  Just get a note from the doctor, and the lumbersexual will take care of it.  And next time, it is important to let Genesis know right away.  Talking to this schmuck was the last thing I needed to worry about back in May. I told him, "I had other things on my mind." Seriously, this guy!

I went home and told Kevin.  I asked him if he could pull some strings, if I could take advantage of his good standing with the general manager to make the issue disappear.  He said he'd talk him.  Kevin Saves the Day!

I broke down crying when I told Kevin about it.  How I wish things were normal.  I wish I wasn't having to tell strangers I need a break because I have cancer.  I wish I wasn't so dizzy. And the crying made me dizzy, so I cried some more.

My Frame of Reference

An intelligent, young person recently told me that the Golden Rule doesn't really hold any significance for her. "The world doesn't work that way," she said.

In her experience, people don't treat others as they would have others treat them.  And maybe in her world, this is true.  She had a list of examples she offered to share, and I was among them. I declined the offer.

I recently heard an Invisibilia podcast describing a woman who spent her life not understanding why people treated her badly. She would approach every social situation not understanding that others were in relationship with one another -- relationships that involved emotion, reading emotional cues, and reflecting.  She was missing out on all of the emotional cues all her life.  One day, she participated in an experiment involving powerful magnets, and she got a glimpse into an entirely different emotional world that she didn't know existed. Her entire history was re-written because of that brief glimpse. Her frame of reference shifted.

What do we do when we see others being treated badly? Do we always recognize it?  Do we sometimes not know that we are part of the system that oppresses others?

I know a minister who is a champion for human rights, but when he was asked to endorse a low-energy Sunday service, he balked.  "The congregation won't like it if the lights aren't on."  No one was proposing that we endanger the elders with low lights and trip hazards.  We weren't even going to make it impossible to see the bulletin.  Some people might have needed to sit in a different pew than normal, to be closer to the natural light streaming from the stained glass windows.  In my mind, it was the minister's job to stand up for what was right, not to cow to the masses who might be uncomfortable with change. In my mind, it was his job to tell the congregation that their energy use on Sunday morning was deeply entrenched in human rights issues and care for creation. In his mind, he would lose his job if he didn't play his cards right.

I see that kind of naysayer thinking as part of the problem. Maybe the Golden Rule is not as achievable as I imagine. People are so afraid to upset the apple cart that they avoid taking a stand when the opportunity arises.  They only consider the safety and security of others who look and think like they do.  People of color, native tribal people, LGBTQ people, and women are still fighting for rights, fighting for their lives.  But why are they the ones who are fighting?  Why do we expect them to be brave and push against the societal norms?  Why on earth are we still saying, "but that's not how it's always been done," or "the eldest members of the establishment won't like it?"  Churches do the naysayer dance more than any group I know of, and they're the ones who are supposed to assume the uncomfortable work of the good Samaritan.  They hold Jesus up as their model and then they institutionalize homophobia, anti-environmentalism, sexism, and on and on.

I wrote most of this yesterday, and I wasn't going to publish it, because it's totally off-topic from my previous "thyroid cancer" blogs, but then I read Kareem Abdul-Jabbar's commentary about Colin Kaepernick, and then I saw this local video today.  This is Caleb Stephens speaking to the Lawrence City Commission and Police Chief about Black Lives Matter and the City of Lawrence.  "This is not a educational session.  Y'all are the city commission. You are the police chief, and I shouldn't be the one teaching y'all. I shouldn't be the one teaching y'all about marginalization or oppression."

I challenge myself to let other people's stories be a glimpse into a world that I am blind to.  Next time, I might invite my intelligent young friend to tell me how I defy the Golden Rule, and take her words to heart.  I challenge my own history to be re-written so that I can see the emotional relationships that I ignored because my frame of reference was limited. 

I'm a Potato Super Star!

I'm a Potato Super Star!  I got a sticker at the doctor's office after I got my stitches removed, and it says so.

More importantly, the doctor handed me my final pathology report, which said that I had normal parathyroid glands, normal parathoroid lymph nodes.  It also said that two of my three thyroid nodules had papillary carcinoma, and one was benign.  The two that had cancer in them were about a centimeter in diameter, total, which indicates no
zero
zilch
further treatment for cancer. That's no radioactive iodine for me!  Of course I'm thrilled, even if you can't see that in this photo of me posing as a Potato.

I've got to go in for checkups regularly to make sure I'm clear of future recurrence, and I have to spend some time getting my hormone levels stabilized.  All in the life and times of Super Potato.

Itchy stitches

Potato Super Star!

Meteor Outburst

I woke up from surgery to the sound of a nurse saying, "Angie, it's all over. We're done. Everything went great."

Immediately, I began to cry.  "Oh no!" she said. "What's the matter? Are you in pain?"

"No, I'm not in pain."  I said. "It's just that I came here a fully intact human, and now a part of me is missing."

She told me I was making her sad.

The drugs were weird. I was completely coherent for much of the day, and even had a conversation about biodiversity with a visitor. But then many hours after my last dose of what I think was codeine, everything got funky. If I closed my eyes, the last thing I had seen would become a melted Dali painting.  Or, I'd see streaks of light that were spaced along a grid, as if all of my rods and cones were lit up. And then, I saw the Perseid meteors through the ceiling.

In the vanity

There is no need to tell me how beautiful and strong I am. I know it.  And I know you are thinking it, with the words poised on your tongue, wondering whether to say it, and if it will be well-received.   What you need to do this very moment is turn that bow and arrow around and point it at your own heart. Say to yourself, "I am beautiful. I am strong." Believe it.

Do not fear your own ego, your vanity or self-confidence. Let loose that bowstring and sink it deep.  I can't do that for you, and you can't do that for me.  Dance and sing in the street if it pleases you. Get naked. Love without fear of never being enough. Do that thing you always wanted but were afraid of. Vanity and ego are what make you fully human, for no great sentient animal ever said, damn, I look good in this hat.

Oh, you can go ahead and tell me I'm beautiful, now that we understand that "you are beautiful" is made of pure, fearless truth. Truth that is infinite.  There is no timekeeper of days or years that can erase truth.

Gut reactions

Saturday, a woman asked me if I had a nuchal cord, suggesting thyroid issues are sometimes related.  No, I had a normal birth.  Logic said that this has no bearing, no correlation to my body now.

But then I told her that a boy punched me in the neck in the 1st grade. My hyoid dislocates on occasion.

"Why would he do that?" Her eyes were wide.

Because he wanted to go down the slide, and I was in the way. I didn't know him. He was much older.

"A bully!" she said.

Yes, a bully.  I woke Sunday morning sensing a deep psychologic and symbolic connection between my injury as a child and the injured DNA in my thyroid.

What the bully couldn't have known was that I loved that slide.  It was a place of innocence and joy.  It was a place where girls shared secrets under its shade.  It was supposed to be safe.  The space of the slide was creating an emotional connection in my life's moment, right when he punched me so hard I lost my ability to breathe.

What he couldn't have known was that he was the first of at least six more violent physical assaults on my freedom to be me in what I thought was a safe space.  He did probably know, just like the other six, that punching a little girl is an attempt to take away her power.

I went downtown, to my Sunday dance ritual.  During the intro, Laura, the leader, asked us to place our hands on our solar plexus and breathe with intention.  The solar plexus are considered a source of power, she explained. Then she asked the group, "have you ever been punched?"

"WHAT?" I asked.

"Have any of you ever been punched?"

I raised my hand.

She invited us into our own power as we dance with intention, and to lose ourselves in the dance with intention.

Breathing, stepping, in a safe place with innocence, joy, and secrets in the shade, the dance began.

Squeaky Wheel blah blah blah

Finally, after four attempts to make an appointment with a local endocrinologist, I have succeeded.  I just called to cancel the appointment that I made with one of KU Med Center's endocrinologist. I am so relieved to not have to drive all the way to Kansas City, while I am hypothyroid, six weeks after my thyroid is removed.

Show Me the BODY

I was at a funeral where an in-law of the deceased expressed dismay that there wasn't an open casket.  She was asking the sons and daughters to consider having an open casket, after the funeral had already begun.  She became insistent, but it wasn't going to happen.

Everyone was shocked that she would be so bold in a time of grief.  I thought, well, we all react differently to death, and she is entitled to her own reaction.  But really, was she entitled to be pushy about this?

I think about that incident a lot whenever I see someone doing something that seems inappropriate during a serious and troubling event, like a funeral or medical emergency.  I think, for some, that trauma brings out emotions that turn off their common sense censor.  Others are left to watch in dismay or to be further troubled by their behavior.

A friend of mine posted this LA Times article on Facebook about "how not to say the wrong thing."  I think it's basically good advice.

I'm hesitant to include this in my blog because someone might think, "oh, dear, what might I have done to offend Angie, who is currently in the center of this circle?"  While that might be an interesting mental exercise for you, I'm not directing this at anyone in particular.   You haven't spoiled it for me.

Yet.

The article says I'm entitled to kvetch all I want.  I'm not much of a kvetcher, if that's even a word.  I'm more likely to manically talk about my thyroid woes with a big grin on my face, like I'm about to go on an ocean cruise. My worst kvetching sounds more like I just accidentally put a dark red shirt in with the whites, and now everything is pink, which is slightly amusing.

The Cracks We Slip Through, Step On, and Smoke.

For the record, I have never smoked crack.

If you've ever worked in the service industry, hopefully you are aware of the phenomenon that I have experienced as a service provider.  There are certain people who fall through the cracks nearly every time I encounter them, through my fault alone.  When I was a waitress for a summer in my 20s, a pair of businessmen would always sit at one of my tables. I would always forget their coffee, and they would always get their food late and cold.  I didn't do it on purpose, but we were somehow trapped in a bad relationship where they weren't on my radar and were neglected as a result.  They complained, yet still continued to sit at that table.

This still happens to me today. Certain members of the monarch enthusiasts club want things from me, and it is my job to provide them.  99% of the time, it all works out for everyone, but sometimes certain people experience repeated issues.  Emails get buried, invoices get misplaced, and the like.

Who wants to be that person who is falling between the cracks?  Not me.  I think I've been that person before, and I think I do a good job of recognizing it and re-calibrating my trajectory.  My previous doctor repeatedly failed to attend to certain, important things.  Being overlooked when I'm paying for a service caused me to seek the service elsewhere, and I landed right in the hands of a doctor who pays attention.

After some debate about which doctor to use -- Dr. Reussner in Lawrence, or Dr. Shnayder at KU Med Center -- I decided to go with Dr. R because he is so highly recommended by people who know him, including Dr. S.  One nurse friend told me, when I was explaining my choice, and I said that part of it was his excellent bedside manner.  She has seen patients who had this same procedure, and she said, "His technical skills are on par with his bedside manner."  That's good to hear.  She also said that the majority of the time, things go right, and even when things go right, something can go wrong, even with the simplest procedures.  I think this philosophy goes along with that mysterious gap between getting it right most of the time, and things sometimes slipping through the cracks, even when you're trying to pay attention.

My thyroidectomy is scheduled for Aug. 12. 

But I've had to call Dr. R's office several times to get him to refer me to an endocrinologist.  It turns out the person who normally does the referrals was in a car accident.  So, I called Dr. S and my primary, Dr. Cordova, to send the referral. Dr. Lehil is the current endo in town, but he is leaving to be replaced by Dr. Oertel, who just finished a residency at KU Med Center and isn't seeing patients until mid October.  So, there's a window where no new patients will be seen, and I need an endocrinologist on or around Sept 20, six weeks after my thyroid is removed.

At this point, I have three doctors working on getting me scheduled for the first available endocrinologist with either Dr. Oertel or a KU Med Center doctor.  

When I called Dr. Oertel's office myself,  when the receptionist said I can't be seen until October, I told her, "I'm having my thyroid removed because I have cancer. I'm not rescheduling just because Dr. Oertel isn't seeing patients.  If he can't see me, I'm going to go to KU Med."  The receptionist said she'd try to fit me in. But until then, I am most certainly slipping through a crack.

I now have a referral for the KU Med doctor, and the receptionist there is lovely.  She said, "I don't know what's going on with Dr. Oertel."  

I said that I think I just got stuck in a gap between two doctors coming and going.

"Sometimes I feel like that's what life is... getting stuck in the gaps," she said.

Dropping the C bomb

Let the lesson be learned that Verizon won't care that you've got cancer.  Only read this if you love a good story about getting screwed by the phone company, again.

June 1, 2016

Dear Mr. McAdam, CEO of Verizon:

I live in Lawrence, Kansas and a few days ago I went into the Verizon store to see if I could add two cell phones for my kids to my current plan. I was needing to consult with my husband before making the purchase, but he was out of town until Monday the 30th. The cost of the plan came up to a little less than $140 per month for all three phones, with a state of KS employee discount and tax included. Great! This is do-able…but I had been told at that time that this promotional deal, in which I would get a gift card for one free iPhone 6s ended on May 31st, which happened to be the same day I received a phone call from my doctor saying that I have a papillary carcinoma on my thyroid. Needless to say I did not spend any part of my day in the Verizon store, but instead I was processing that information and researching the possibilities. It’s highly curable, thank goodness. My spirits have lifted, I’m feeling happy to be alive, and I am back in the swing of things today.I visited the store today and the salesmen told me that since the $650 gift card was a nationwide promotion, they could not help me out by extending the offer one more day. I had asked to speak to the manager, and they just shook their heads and said they wouldn’t be able to help me. Well, I thought… Maybe the CEO could help? I sure hope you can. My kids were promised the phones for their good grades last year, and I missed the deal by one day.Now honestly, my daughters do not need the iPhone 6s. I’m perfectly happy with my 5s, and they don’t really need to up-stage me with their phones. But now that I’ve missed my opportunity, even the lowest-end HTC phones are going to cost me around the same price and likely more than the two 6s phones would have.I know you don’t normally have time to appease people who want promotional deals. I’m really just hoping you’ll take a bit of time to consider my request to extend the offer, or to at least help me find two iPhones for my kids that are within my budget.

Most Sincerely,

Angie Babbit

Mr McAdam did not reply, but maybe that is because he doesn't publish his email, and I sent this into the ether. But, I also emailed it the director of marketing, Diego Scotti, whose staff member, Edvanna, called me saying (I paraphrase) that her hands were tied but she could offer me $50 for each new phone I purchase.

June 2, 2016

Dear Angela Babbit,

Thank you for bringing your concerns to the attention of Diego Scotti. We are committed to providing you with a stellar customer experience everyday. We value and appreciate your feedback when we may fall short of that commitment.

I am glad that we were able to resolve your concerns by offering a credit to your account for $50 for each of the two lines added to your account.

Edvanna F.

I don't know why she couldn't just give me a $650 credit, but whatever. After purchasing two refurbished iPhone 5s, this is a summary of my experience with Verizon, which I emailed to Edvanna.

July 2, 2016

Dear Edvanna,

Thank you for the credit toward two phones. I wish that I had been able to actually purchase new phones, but I decided to get certified pre-owned phones because new phones are not affordable. One of them has been working okay, with a few minor issues, like Verizon Family Base doesn't recognize it at all. No one has resolved that issue for me. The other phone arrived with a crack in the lens, so I returned it and received a replacement. The replacement arrived with a defective microphone, so no one could hear me if I spoke on anything but speaker phone. The third phone, which I've had since Monday stopped working spontaneously today and can't be restored in iTunes. According to tech support, my 14-day return window has expired, even though I haven't yet had a fully functioning phone.

And, each time I've asked for the phones to be delivered to my work address, they are delivered to my home address instead. No one is there to receive them and I have to track them down, so of course my 14 day window has expired.

I mentioned in my first email that I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer, and as you can imagine I'd like to not have to deal with this at all. I could use a break here. I'm waiting for the fourth phone to arrive over the holiday weekend, but the one I currently have will be dead for the duration, because it is non-responsive.

If there is anything you can do to help me out, I would appreciate it. The experience has been a multitude of disappointments.

Sincerely, 

Angie Babbit 


Edvanna replied:

RE:Re: Re: Re: Case Closure Notification - CASE(1916059)

Verizon Wireless Executive Relations

8:33 AM (8 hours ago)
July 5, 2016
to me

Hello Angie,

I am very sorry to hear about the trouble that you have been having with the 5S purchased for you line. After you have received your replacement let me know how that device operates for you. If you are continuing to have trouble, let me know and I will look into seeing what options are available to getting you a better working device.

Best Regards,

Edvanna F.

Executive Relations

It's better than the alternative

I asked my daughter why her euphonium has a big dent in it.  "What happened to it?"  I said.

"Life," was her response.

I can't argue with that.