Why I'm Not Going to the Million Women March (Or, an Exercise in Finding Balance)

As of 12:00 PM today, the United State of America has a new President. This new President is a man who I experience as a hateful, impulsive, misogynistic, narcissistic, megalomanaical chucklehead. In short, not someone whose actions or values I can respect in the role of President of the United States.

On November 8, an estimated 50% of the voting population in America felt the same way I did. Unfortunately, it was not the right configuration of 50% to win the electoral college and continue leading the White House with progressive values.

So, nearly two and half months after the election of 2016, I find myself contemplating how to live life with an ass-hat reality star as the leader of my country.

Tomorrow, thousands of women and men, mothers and daughters, sisters and brothers, sweethearts, and friends will contemplate this reality while marching together in solidarity, affirming their commitment to protecting the rights of women, people of color, people who identify as LGBTQ, immigrants, and the poor. Thousands more women and men will don pussy hats, pink knit caps with little kitty ears, in an effort to reclaim that word from our new President, who has been accused multiple times of sexual assaults, and has bragged about his ability to force women to interact with him sexually. And yet thousands more will be sharing progressive social content through Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, and the like.

Me? I'm not marching. I'm not wearing a pussy hat. I'm not going on Facebook. Instead, I will be visiting a friend from long ago to have my energy and chakras realigned. After then, I will take a long walk through a city I once called home, en route to my favorite tea shop to pick up my favorite tea.

While I have extraordinary ambivalence about the decision to not participate, I also have extraordinary clarity about why I'm not going.

I've lost my center in my grief and anger over what the election of He Who Must Not Be Named to the Presidency.
I see this in the emergence of disordered eating habits long ago buried, the resurgence of sleeplessness, which results in extreme exhaustion and crabbiness. I'm aware that attending a march, even the local one expected to be attended by 40,000+ people, is likely to exacerbate my anxiety about the state of the country, rather than helping me to feel empowered. Tomorrow, I need to find ways to nurture myself so once again I can find my center.

As an introvert, I am not typically energized or comforted by large crowds.
This is ironic given that I have masters level training in Community Organizing, but I typically do not find mass gatherings to be a good use of time. The "group think" mentality - even if it is group think aligned with my values - freaks me out, and I often feel claustrophobic. I know I'd spend a majority of my time looking for an escape route, trying to hear what is happening, or plotting the most efficient route to the subway station so I could get home.

When I'm ready to "do something", I know where to find information and communities made up of people organizing for change.
I don't need to attend a march to connect with people making a difference, or to be held accountable. I'm angry enough to keep myself accountable for making waves. And, I'm an active participant in the #injusticeboycott, have firm connections to the Unitarian Universalists, am a major donor and active follower of the Southern Poverty Law Center, and follow Pantsuit Nation/Action Together Massachusetts on Facebook. I know where to go to get information I trust, and to identify actions I can take with others that will make a difference.

I need to rest and relax now, so I'm ready to step up when my time is right. 
Right after the inauguration was over, my cousin-in-law posted on Facebook - 1,459. That's how many more days there are until the next President of the United States is sworn in. Four years. Four long years. Those of us standing on the side of love have a long haul ahead of us. I have an impressive history of fighting until I've spent every last drop of energy I have, which leaves me permanently depleted. This is partly driven by an overdeveloped sense of responsibility, and a lack of understanding of the ebb and flow of individual contributions to collective good. By not going to a march tomorrow, I'm acknowledging that I am not alone in this battle, and that I can't participate in this fight without taking at least one break. And I need my first break now.

As I watch and read coverage of all you beautiful people marching together, this is what I know:
We're standing together in our hearts.
We have each other's back in this marathon towards justice.
When you you need your break, I'll be ready to step in.

A Few of My Favorite Things (about myself)

What would you say are your best qualities? This is the question posed by the 52 Lists Project this week.

Luckily, I've had nearly 20 years of therapy and introspection to figure this out. So here goes my list of the Top Ten Things I <3 about="" i="" me="">:

1. My honesty and "transparency"
What you see (and hear) with this girl is what you get. For better or worse, if there is something you want to know about me, I'll typically tell you. On the flip side, I don't always have patience for people who obviously lack self-awareness or who deny parts of themselves.

2. My intelligence
Is this a quality, or just luck of the draw? I think the latter. Regardless, I appreciate how smart I am, even if I occasionally temper myself in the interest of not wanting to be perceived as a smarty-pants.

3. My love for my family
This is particularly true for my nuclear family and my siblings' families. I feel lucky that, having grown up with only each other, we still (mostly) want to spend time together. 

4. My deep empathy
Particularly for those who I perceive or who I know have been oppressed for reasons beyond their control (e.g., gender, sex, nation of origin, skin color, sexual orientation).

5. My dislike for overt brand devotion
I grew up poor, which meant brand names were largely out of reach for me. And I experienced them as impregnable walls between me and the "rich kids." As a result, I eschew overt brand devotion as crass braggadocio.

6. My spirit of adventure
My brother-in-law asked me on Friday night if I was truly adventurous, or if I liked the idea of calling myself adventurous. Maybe a little of both, in that I'm selectively adventurous. I won't typically try something I believe will cause harm to me or others, and I'm not always adventurous (sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name). But, I'm typically willing to push my boundaries in the interest of having a good story or discovering something new about myself.

7. My quirks
I am grateful the many ways in which my personality and my style falls outside of the lines of my particular station in life. My love for gnomes,my lack of disgust for nose-picking (everyone does it), my constant willingness to brake for squirrels, my enthusiastic style of dance not unlike that of Elaine Bennes, my nearly daily hula hooping - I could seriously go on. I embrace these things because they make me unlike anyone else I know.

8. My laugh
I don't laugh a lot, but when I do, it is loud and unabashed.

9. Parts of my physical self
I have long struggled with loving my body. Those 20 years of therapy, yeah, they were A LOT about that. But, I'm happy to say there are some physical qualities I have that I like: my breasts, my hourglass shape, my smiley eyes, my skin tone.

10. My generosity
I give 5% of my pre-tax income away to charity, and I give with intention. I love to bake, and I tend to give (nearly) all of it away to my neighbors (see #9 above), I am often willing to compromise my own needs in the interest of helping someone in crisis. BMG sees my generosity as a flaw, as an unfettered doorway to misery and exploitation. But I don't. I am glad to bring a little peace, joy and/or justice into the lives of others, and value this quality in others.

Awkward Family Photos

Photo source: http://keltiecolleen.buzznet.com/

If you haven't seen the website Awkward Family Photos, you should. Its like the worst highway accident you've ever seen, because you just can't stop looking. Wondering who in god's name imagined THAT composition would be worthy of the family Christmas card.

BMG and I took our Christmas card photo today. As we prepared for the shot, I reflected on the dozens of cards we receive and hang on the wall every year. Each one shows beautiful, smiling children. And very few show parents with their children.

I think that's awkward.

Why?

Well, the kids aren't sending the holiday greeting. The family is, and really it is likely the more nurturing of the parents who does the work. Managing the photo session, selecting the perfect picture to include on the card, composing the list of people to receive the greeting and then doing the painstaking work of addressing the cards and adding personalized notes. 

And yet, on a majority of the Christmas cards we receive at The Tiny Bungalow, there is no inkling that the adorable children have parents. 

I have heard many a parent rail against Disney and the children's television industry for creating entertainment that perpetuates the notion that kids don't need adults to help guide their lives. In fact, one of my sisters went so far as to screen her kids' television programs to ensure they were not watching shows where the youthful protagonists had no discernible adult role models. She didn't want her daughters to make the same madcap decisions as Hannah Montana and her contemporaries.

Within this context, I think it is weird that an estimated 50% of the parents in my life send Christmas cards that only include photos of their children.  

When I receive these adult-free cards, I put my social worker hat on and imagine why the parents aren't included. Has someone died? Is the marriage in trouble? Are my grown-up friends too insecure or self-loathing to want to include a picture of themselves? Maybe their lives are so intertwined with those of their children that they believe sending a picture of their kids is the same as sending a picture of themselves? I might go to a maudlin place in which I believe my friends elect to omit themselves from the card because they do not actually intend to extend holiday wishes to me. At which point I assume the friend *must* think I'm a narcissist because I DO include a photo of myself on my annual winter greetings. 

Christmas 2014 is 60 days away. It is not too late to make the decision to include your entire family on your Christmas card this year. I know I would be delighted, because I love you and want to see you.

Merry Christmas!

PS: I also have a practical reason for wanting at least one photo of you each year.

Narcisselfie: A new word

Narcisselfist - someone who shares an irregular number of random self-portrait on social networking sites for no other apparent reason than to passively solicit some sort of empathic reaction from friends both real and virtual. I experience narcisselfists as needy, attention grabbers - regardless of whether the reaction they seek is a "You look mahvelous" or "Gah! I'm so sorry that happened to you!"

I understand selfies taken and posted when something extraordinary is happening - sharing the euphoria of a visit to the Taj Mahal (or the Grand Canyon or even America's Stonehenge), documenting a special date with family or a dear friend, or even showing off a particularly flattering haircut. To me, these selfies are best understood with clear explanations - so no opportunity for misinterpretation of the intent of the photo. "Look! I'm at the Taj Mahal! "lucky" or "Yup, I really DID get my hair chopped off. I love it."

But selfies taken and shared for selfies' sake? I read them as pure, irritating narcissism.