The Seether Part Drei

Back to the story. The defining moment of my relationship with my mother was when we went to see the movie "Ghandi." By this time I had learned that my mother was someone I could actually be honest with and I stumbled upon a moment that I will never forget. As we drove home from the local theater together, I wondered aloud how someone who was clearly so good could be going to hell according to my religion. Even though my mother up to this point had allowed me to ask, there was something different in her answer that night. It was the first time I heard her voice questioning as loudly as mine. How could it be? Even though my mom never gave me what many would call an answer, her ability to discuss and question out loud without accusations flying was a novelty in my world and I felt like I had finally broken free. I was now free to think and to question. For the first time, I felt like God gave me a mind to seek truth and that truth might not always be exactly what I was expecting. And that was exciting.

By the fall of 1983, my bags were packed and I was off to college. It was no surprise that I was heading off to Calvin College, a small Christian liberal arts school. I opted out of Wheaton for many reasons. It was too close to home, I knew too many people there and they made the sad mistake of asking me about some of my past "sins." Even at 18, I knew that I didn't need to be judged for things that I had done in the past. I already knew that part of growing up is learning and changing. I didn't want to be dragged down by things that I had done in the past. I'm all for personal accountability, but what's the point if there are no lessons to be learned and only punishments to be dealt out.

So off to Calvin I went. Little did I know, but my faith was about to be rocked to the core, not by the "world" that I had been warned about, but by the Christians I went to class with every day. Those three years taught me the real world meaning of the word hypocrisy. I saw people who in the name of the same god I was claiming, behave in ways that I found shameful and yet, they turned around and called me a heathen because I wasn't a member of their church. Suddenly, all the words I had spoken to others flooded me in a sea of regret. The judgementalism that I had grown up embracing was a little harsh on the receiving end. Suddenly I realized that our beliefs when taken out of the context of our personal culture, became a target for others, who believed their agenda to be as valid as my own.

And so it was at Calvin College, the safest place my parents could have put me, I learned to think for myself for a change. I was fortunate enough, or intuitive enough to find a group of people who helped me to think for myself. They were all Christians, but a kind of Christian I had never met before. For the first time, I met people who put action before words and reserved the judging for God. I had my fill of being judged by people here on earth. My ego had been torn down again and again by people for whom I never seemed good enough. I had been given a chance to really examine what my foundation was made of and if some repairs were in order.

Next time, The Seether Part Quatro, where yours truly thinks she has figured it all out.

The Seether Part Deux

Where to begin? Ah, the list. The ever growing list of things that keep me up at night, bring me to tears, ruffle my fur beyond my cleaning capabilities, make me feel isolated and leave me drained. Who knew that Inauguration Day, a day which I blogged about the hope and optimism that I felt, was merely the beginning of a period that would proceed to unravel the fabric of my life, to rip the proverbial band-aid off of the almost healed wound. And yet, that is exactly what happened. I have been left standing here wondering if my childhood and the things that I perceived were really there at all. Somehow this dumb healthcare reform issue has managed to tear my life apart in ways I sure did not see coming.

Most people who know me, know that I will openly identify myself as a Christian. They also know that when I say I came from a VERY conservative background, I am not kidding. The only thing that would have made it worse was if they had put me in a private Christian school, which thankfully they didn't partially because we didn't have enough money and partially because when they threatened the action in sixth grade I vowed mutiny. I knew then that I had already had my fair share of indoctrination and that would have sent me over the edge into crazy land.

I wasn't allowed to question my faith as a child. I was forced to go to church multiple times a week. I was forced to hang out with kids from church. Many times my time with my school friends was limited because my parents tried to control every aspect of my life. I had little freedom as a child. I have never doubted that I was loved. I was absolutely loved and otherwise well taken care of. However, when it came to matters of religion and faith, there was no freedom. No freedom to explore. No freedom to question. The few times I rebelled against this, I was firmly put in my place by everyone surrounding me, my parents, my grandmother and everyone I knew at the church. Basically, the world that I was allowed to live in told me that I had better figure it out. So I would settle down again. When you get slapped upside the head enough, you shut up after awhile.

If the people I was forced to be with and be like were awful people, I would now be telling you that they are now in jail or some such thing. But the fact of the matter was that they were all pretty nice people and they all told me they liked me and it was virtually all I knew, so I was kind of OK with it. What could possibly be wrong with a bunch of conservative midwestern people who frequently made casseroles and thought jello was a salad? Well, maybe I should have seen something evil there. So I kind of did what I should do for awhile. It was just easier and it's not like it was awful and I had people that I thought were friends and my family was happy with me. Lots of positive reinforcement came my way when I was the good girl they all expected me to be.

Still, in all of this, I was always the malcontent in the group. I still had times where I would "backslide" and get called out for my less than Christian behavior. See, it was all about the behavior. If you are constantly behaving the way you should, it doesn't matter what you think. And by the way, that thinking stuff is dangerous. Be careful what you learn. My whole life was a study of censorship. Fortunately for me, there was one person in my life, who in the quiet moments let me know that it was OK to think. It was my mom. Even though she belonged to the same group and culture, she was different and everyone knew it. Whatever my mom was, she was honest and giving and one of the smartest people I have ever known. As I grew older, she began to encourage me to think and question. She opened up enough to allow me to see her own struggling and questioning. She was the one that allowed me to embark on the next leg of my journey.

Stay tuned for The Seether Part Drei, where The Seether makes a break for it.

The Seether

...muttering under breath...hiss...spit...

Oh, sorry, excuse me. Some things have been really ruffling my fur lately. There's a list. It's never good when there is a list. Perhaps it's time for a song or two.

Talk Talk

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZuTYOB53xE0

I have never in my life been so infuriated and confused. I've spent a lifetime wrestling with choices and rights and wrongs. I have never proclaimed to be a perfect person. I firmly believe that actions speak louder than words. Anyone can tell you what is right. Doing it is another thing.

I have been disappointed over and over again by people, who by their inability to see anything from someone else's point of view, either stand by the side of the road in inaction or fight to protect themselves at the expense of others. I've heard people call those less fortunate "lazy." At this point in my life, I believe that privilege is a blinding force. It makes us feel better than others, as if we got where we were going solely through our own merits. I am a child of privilege. I fight every day against its blinding forces.

I'm most sick of the righteous talk. Many offer plans. Few are willing to put in the work to make it feasible. Too much is broken. Too few are willing. I'm looking for people to put some skin in the game. Then come back and talk to me. Stop polishing your crowns, people. Lay them down and get in the game. The team here on earth needs you.

Theory of Mind

I spend a good majority of my time at work trying to teach children with autism that we all have different perceptions of the world . The terminology for this is Theory of Mind. Theory of Mind is the ability to understand that the way that you perceive things is different from the perception of others. That we all have our own likes and dislikes. That we all react to things in different ways. Being able to see things from another's point of view is what allows us to be successful in our social lives.

Somehow this theory seems to be much simpler to explain than it is to practice. Many grown adults seem to lack this ability. In my work, when this ability is lacking we call it mind blindness. I often equate all of this with empathy. It's one thing to feel sorry for someone, that's sympathy. It's another thing entirely to actually attempt to identify with someone else and to put yourself in their shoes and to identify with what they are going through, be it simple or complex.

As a society, it is customary to say "How are you?" when we greet people. Sadly, because it is ritualistic, it seems to have very little validity. How often in my own life have I given the expected, "Fine," as an answer when things were anything but fine. To answer anything but fine almost feels like a social faux pas. This means that we might expect something from the other person or that the other person might feel burdened by our statement. I long to live in a world where we can all be honest about our feelings. I probably tip my hand more than most when it comes to revealing exactly how I am feeling. What sense is it hide how we feel from those that we are close to?

The flip side of that coin is that it isn't always nice to reveal how we are feeling sometimes. It can be hurtful to reveal mistrust or anger. This is where empathy needs to come in to play. Before we react with the full force of our emotions, we need to take a step back and think about how that person might receive it. Did we understand the situation? Do we know the background of what happened? Do we understand how this person accepts strong emotional statements?

I find it harder and harder each year to balance my desire for honesty with my impulse to be empathetic. I teach empathy on a daily basis. I have to practice empathy to be able to do my job. In real life, empathy can sometimes be my own achilles heel, as it leaves me vulnerable in a world where many are not empathetic in return. I feel soft and naked in a harsh world. Many have told me to toughen up. I am tough when I need to be in situations where injustice has occurred. But somehow, the day to day stuff seems to be hardest for me. Small things hurt me. Big things devastate me. And yet, if you ask me how I am, I am likely to say, "Fine." Anything more can be a liability and usually ends up being thrown back in my face. I trust fewer and fewer people. And I think that is the saddest statement of all.

As The World Turns

So I go away for a week of vacation and return to the pop world turned on its head. Gone are two of the pop icons of my youth, Farrah, who forced me to spend hours in the bathroom with a curling iron only to fail miserably every day, and Michael, who forced me to attempt the moonwalk over and over only to realize that I have only a small amount of rhythm and dancing magic.

Well, neither of them were real cultural heroes for me. I'd much rather talk about the loons that sang me to sleep for the last week. Or the doe and fawn I saw prancing through the forest this morning as we left. Or the bald eagle that circled our lake late every afternoon. Or the turtles that swam a little too close to my fishing line almost every day. Or the sun that was warm and out every day this week. Or the cool clear lake water that we swam in. Or the super fun go-kart track that I zipped around many times. Really, all of the news was a bit surprising, but in comparison, not so important.

My whole family had a great vacation. The northwoods of Wisconsin have been our family's vacation spot since I was a small child. I find it reassuring that in a world that changes every day, it remains virtually the same. MIchael or no Michael, it is a quiet corner of the world where you don't even have a good cell signal. A place where you have to go looking for the rest of the world.

That being said, this song makes me awful happy. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7hK3Y1Ehv9c

WTF????

Wow. So what was I thinking. Maybe I thought that if I totally ignored my blog, I would stop caring. Or possibly that I would stop having something to say, (please insert laughter here). I ALWAYS have something to say. Maybe I thought that my words were inconsequential. Well, what I've figured out is that even if I am the only one reading, they are not inconsequential.

I got a little downtrodden for awhile. I felt I hit a flat spot in my life. I watched my readership plummet. As if that mattered in the first place. Love you all, but really, I started this for me. Y'all were just the happy by-product. And a very happy by-product I might add. I apologize profusely for not keeping up on my reading. I was momentarily distracted by Facebook.

I found a lot of friends on Facebook. That's a good thing. I found old friends. i found older friends. I kept up with my newer ones. Just never had the same shine as blogging. Face it, one sentence a day, or maybe every few days, is not the same as a heartfelt blog post.

So, bitches, I'm back! All the bad '80's videos, all the cancer pain, all the growing children drama. Love it. Loathe it. I really don't care. It's all about me. Well, kind of. I do love you all and I really miss many of you.

As a reassurance, I really haven't changed too very much. Still a Naked Raygun addict. Waiting on the new Bomb album/CD. Love the live shows and will never be satiated. And love all of you. Just don't cross me in an IEP meeting. Then we may have to be mortal enemies and I will win.