I dreamed last night that the fur ball I was trying to remove from the hindquarters of my faux Himalayan cat was in fact a hernia. And as I gently tugged on the mat of long white hair, I started pulling her innards out. She screeched and ran away, leaving a trail of kitty blood in her wake. Panicked, I searched for her in all of her favorite hiding spots. Instead of finding a trembling cat, I instead found pools of flesh and blood, evidence that she was leaking from the inside out.
I love cookies. Chocolate chip cookies to be exact. In fact, I love them so much, they made my Facebook list of 10 foods I would want with me if I were stranded on a desert island, (The others are turkey, eggs, olive oil, rice, spinach, lemons, coconut, cheddar cheese, and coffee,)
But chocolate chip cookies don't love me back.
Consider this checklist of qualities that the Kelley and Thibault model of relationship commitment, as described by Psychology Today, suggests are essential to a successful long-term relationship: Both consistently meet and do not frustrate our needs FAIL. Chocolate chip cookies DO meet my needs for the delicious combination of sugar and fat, particularly when I'm feeling sad, hormonal, or have low blood sugar. HOWEVER, they do not care enough about me to minimize the way they frustrate my efforts to be fit, sleep well at night, and not feel like an out-of-control pig. Are more attractive than other potential relationships or ways of spending our time FAIL. I love chocolate chip cookies. But, they have not done enough in our relationship to prevent me from cheating on them with potato chips, dark chocolate-covered anything, or commercially prepared peanut butter. And none of the Ashley Madison foods I have in my Rolodex are doing me any favors. In fact, if I were to cheat on chocolate chip cookies, I'd be better off cheating with a trip to the gym, a brisk walk, or a phone call to one of my sisters. Would lead one to lose valuable resources if the relationship were to end FAIL. Again, What am I going to lose if I were to leave my love affair with the chocolate chip cookie? I would guess about 15 pounds.
This checklist makes it clear that chocolate chip cookies are doing nothing but hurting me. For more than 45 years, I've continued to turn to them in times of joy, sorrow and anger, only to have my short term needs fulfilled with no promise of a fulfilling, long-term relationship
So, chocolate chip cookies, in the interest of my health, I am breaking up with you.
(Unless, of course, you'd be willing to hook up every now and again, maybe at parties or other special events. I mean, I'd be open to that.)
Have you ever had to make a decision where the choices were vastly different, but equally good? I had this happen twice - both times early in my adulthood.
The first time was in 1992, right after I finished college. Educated at American University, with its legacy of global public service, I had enthusiastically applied for a position with the Peace Corps the summer before my senior year.
As I finished my degree, there was still no word on whether I had been accepted, so I made other plans to take a job with the Center for Women's Studies at Colgate University. I had moved back to central New York to set up house when a letter arrived announcing my appointment to an aquaculture initiative in Honduras. Stunned, because I had never been told I was accepted into the Corps, I was paralyzed with thoughts of what to do next. Do I renege on my contract with Colgate, my pursuit of a graduate degree, and my desire to spend at least the next year connecting with my nearby family? Or, do abandon these plans and head to Central America to cultivate my language skills and cultural knowledge while making a contribution to sustainable agriculture and community self-sufficiency?
I chose to stay stateside. But still occasionally wonder "what if."
The same type of situation presented itself to me five years later when I was offered the opportunity to take a paid internship with the CDC. At the time, I was finishing my graduate degree in Social Work/Public Health, along with a Fellowship in Community-Oriented Primary Care. I was on the Board of Directors of Community-Campus Partnerships for Health, and initiating a consulting relationship with the (Peter Lees org). From a career development perspective, packing up my life and moving to Atlanta made perfect sense.
But, as someone committed to community development, I struggled with the idea of leaving my own community of family and friends.
So, in the spirit of not wanting my work to take precedence over my life, I elected to stay in Boston.
Twenty years later, I still occasionally wonder "What if?" Had I taken the job with the CDC, for example. I could be on the track towards a senior policy-making position or some other position of influence. But, at what cost?
I'm aware that I give 150% of myself to my work. I've been recognized as a "high producer" by some supervisors, and called out for "making the rest of the team look bad" by others. The last time I made a career shift, from non-profit and public service, it was at the request of my now husband, who needed me to turn off work and be present with him - and myself - during those times when I was physically not on the job.
I leave work at 3:00 on Fridays, which means instead of being getting my evening news fix from my pal Robert Siegel on NPR's All Things Considered, I'm forced to listen to PRI's The World.
Today, on my 25-minute commute, I heard global perspectives on the outcomes of yesterday's Brexit vote.
During the drive, I stared out the front window of my station wagon thinking not about the predictable traffic and roadways between me and my home, but instead thinking about the 17 million Britons who decided yesterday to leave the EU.
The reasons for this too complicated for me to understand and certainly too complicated for me to explain. If you don't understand the Brexit vote, I invite you to read coverage in the New York Times and The Economist for two among the thousands of media perspectives on this historic decision by the people, for the people of the United Kingdom.
One of the rationales given for the "leave" decision was the EU's demand that member nations comply with an open borders policy, making it possible for residents and workers to easily migrate between countries to live and work. And for older, less educated Britons who, like their American counterparts are suffering professional and economically, immigration became the easy scapegoat. One commentator on The World said a "leave the EU" campaign slogan was "Make Great Britain Great Again."
This is a familiar refrain here in the U.S.
Which got me to thinking.
What if we simply swapped voters?
Think about it. The "Leave the EU" voters are kindred spirits of Donald Trump's base of support, while the "Remain in the EU" voters might be compared to Hillary Clinton supporters in their rational appreciation for the benefits that come with a nation state's investment in the collective whole.
What if we invited the "Leave the EU" people to come live in America, hassle-free, and gave the Hillary supporters the same hassle-free option to move to the UK?
Don't think about it. Just react. If you are a Hillary supporter, would you take the free pass to Europe? I know I would.
Post your vote in the comments section. As with Brexit, we'll figure out the details later.
Just this week, I told my husband and mother-in-law that, in spite of having recently lost 30 pounds, I still feel exactly the same. While I lost the weight primarily for health reasons, not emotional ones, I'm aware that I have struggled with being a "fat girl" my entire life.
With that revelation still spinning around in my heart, I found myself drawn to click on an NPR article posted to Facebook, offering reviews of two works of fiction that "tear down" stereotypes about fat girls.
The Facebook rabbit hole being what it is, this article next led me to a PBS Newshour link about a poet, Rachel Wiley, who penned this:
For Fat Girls Who Considered Starvation When Bulimia Wasn’t Enough
Mom says that my teeth are perfect Perfect brother has just gotten braces on his top four front teeth A tiny railroad bridge connecting nothing And mom says that my teeth are perfect. At last my quiet mouth, the overlook, the swallowed feelings have all paid off and cultured something perfect and mine. My mouth is a music box stuffed with pearls.
Perfect brother is tall And lean eats whatever he wants One time a whole box of oatmeal cream pies. but it is more clear each day that my baby fat is no longer baby fat but just fat It is more clear each day that I will not be a ballerina I had wanted to be a ballerina. My mouth is a music box A small girl spins gracefully at the back of my throat On point I am sure if I can just reach far enough back I could still have her grace I reach for her every night after dinner while the bathtub fills.
Until one day the health teacher shows us a photo of a mouth crammed full of broken, yellowed dishes says that a side effect of Bulimia is ruined teeth but Mom said that my teeth were perfect And my perfect is a ransom I cannot bring myself to pay for the spinning girl So I swallow her and then nothing more for 4 whole days My mouth is a music box, plays a low gear grinding that puts me to sleep.
When I do not wake up any closer to the spinning girl encircled in pink tulle but rather still a ravenous hollow encircled in overgrowth I sneak down to the pantry and devour an entire box of oatmeal cream pies in the dark before going upstairs to brush my perfect teeth 1 at a time.
What happened next? Well, I cried.
I cried for the little girl in me who wanted to be a ballerina but was instead told, "You'd be so pretty if you could just lose some weight." I cried for the young adult in me who thought she was a genius when she discovered bulimia, without knowing the word for it. I cried for the adult in me who knows that this eating disorder is like an addiction in that it will be with me always, in spite of having beat the behaviors long long ago.
And now my stomach hurt. I'm sure it's because of the #whole30 decaf mocha I just gulped. It couldn't be feelings.
Please stop using the words "stupid," "crazy" and all of their colorful variations on social media platforms to label people whose behavior and words indicate they are racist, pro-gun, supporters of the Republican presidential candidate who shall not be named, anti-choice, anti-LGBT, and/or some other variation of evangelical Christian conservative.
From where I sit, calling a DT voter an "idiot" is no different than calling a rape survivor a "slut"
"Really?" you say. "How?"
Because the labels only serve to confirm the worst feelings the person you are labeling has about themselves. Regardless of whether they are conscious of those bad feelings or not, the words serve to step on the self-esteem of another in order to lift your own sense of worth and belonging. The primary purpose of labels are to reinforce oppression. And DT supporters (and anti-choice activists and anti-LGBT activists and gun rights activists, yada yada) DO feel oppressed.
And when people who feel they are being oppressed are organized, they fight back. Tea Party voters and the hundreds of permutations of their ilk, are well-funded and organized. The more we insult, the harder they deeper they feel about their cause and the harder they fight back.
Think of the lessons American Civil Rights movement of the 1950s and 1960s. Imagine the protesters outside of Central High School in Little Rock, Arkansas, chanting "N****r go home!" to the members of Little Rock 9 as they bravely played their role in desegregating America's school. Did the civil right activists stop, think, and say, "Golly! You're right. We are n****rs and we should go home. We don't belong in a well-funded and high performing high school. Thanks for helping us see the light."? No, they got madder and louder and more organized until they won that phase of the battle for civil rights.
Based on my experience as a community organizer and a thoughtful human being, I believe that every time someone posts a news article with a comment that belittles or expresses patronizing disappointment in the opposition, they are contributing to a mood in which the organized opposition gets madder and louder.
Maybe using these labels helps to make you feel better. Maybe they also make your fellow liberals laugh. I'm sure you feel righteously superior to the "others" whom you are deriding. It's important to express your feelings. I'm a social worker. I get it. I'm as horrified as most of you are every time I read the news or skim through comments on yet another witty meme circulating in Facebook or Twitter.
But, in the grand political scheme, name calling is doing nothing to change the political tenor of our country. In fact, it's making things worse.
Who is to blame for the rise of the American presidential candidate who shall not be named? Republicans say it is President Obama. President Obama says it is the Republicans. Liberal talk show host Bill Maher blames the self-esteem movement. And everyone blames "the media."
By choosing to put all of their support behind a presidential candidate who was "owed" the nomination after years of party activism and loyalty. Regardless of how qualified their chosen candidate is, their analysis of their chosen candidate's ability to unite the party was, in my opinion, flawed. Why? Because it did not appear to address:
The political mood of the country: The high "Obama is to blame for everything is wrong in my life and the world" sentiment - from both sides of the political spectrum - should have been a clue to the party that they needed to move even closer to the center politically and culturally to capture the moderate and conservative vote. Translate this as a "we need a moderate white guy" if you wish. I'm not happy about it, and I accept that at this time, it is also likely true.
The likability of their chosen candidate: Regardless of whether Candidate Clinton's "unlikeability" is "fair," "legitimate," or "right," it has been palpable since the first Clinton presidency. Yes, sexism exists and its sucks. But, given all the other factors affecting the election, it should have been clear to the DNC that this presidential election was not the right time to make a socio-political statement about sexism in America. I believe the risks are too high.
The potential opposition from inside and outside of the party: Given the political mood of the country and the likeability of their candidate, the party should have seen (a) the rise of a social liberal candidate from within the ranks who would divide the Democratic vote, and (b) the rise of Tea Party opposition who would take leadership or further erode the candidacy of the DNC's Chosen One.
I believe Hillary Clinton is extraordinarily qualified to be President of the United States. I don't need to debate whether she deserves the nomination or whether she is qualified. (And stop calling me a sexist for not supporting her with all of my heart and soul.).
Unfortunately, I also believe she's the right candidate at the wrong time. And, the rise of He Who Must Not Be Named (seriously, I can't even type his name without feeling sick) proves that a vocal majority of the opposition party agrees with me.
So DNC, consider this one very angry finger pointing in your direction for helping to create these politically scary times.
"Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory unannounced, stray dogs that amble in, sniff around a bit, and simply never leave. Our lives are measured by these."
--Susan B. Anthony