Watching Dana Loesch, an NRA representative speak with the survivors from Parkland, FL in a CNN forum last night was profoundly upsetting for me. When I have a reaction like that - from my gut - about someone in the news, I know it is about something deeper than that for me. It was not a reaction to the topic (which is deeply upsetting and understandably so), it was a personal reaction to Ms. Loesch's presence. So I ask myself, "What is really going on here?" "Does this person remind me of someone in my life?" "Does this situation remind me of something I know or remember from another time in my life?" "What is this REALLY about?"
Here is my answer: What most upset me was Ms. Loesch's sincere eye contact and 'empathy' with people like Emma Gonzalez, one of the student activists, and her expressive face and generally attractive persona with surviving parents from this and other mass shootings. This triggered in me deep feelings of warning - "Do not be fooled by her sincere face and eye contact!" I wanted to shout. "Do not be drawn in by her pretty hair and controlled voice!" "Do not be thrown off by her compelling name-calling of 'madman' or 'crazy' to describe the shooter!"
As a psychotherapist, I sometimes see the results in individual lives of relationships that are marked by manipulation, control and emotional abuse. I myself, at one time, was in this kind of relationship. I feel a fierce protectiveness for people who I am afraid might be thrown off or manipulated by rhetorical techniques and deep denial. And, as a social worker, I look at the bigger systems that may perpetuate abuse. I think we need to do a better job of being empowered to recognize when we are being bamboozled, gaslighted, and controlled - without losing our own compassion, our own generosity of spirit and our own ability to listen. We must be brave enough to make an assessment and walk away from those who would do us harm.
Here are some things that an abuser might convey, but never use these exact words:
1) I want you to feel guilty.
2) I want you to feel sorry for me.
3) I want you to be afraid of me, even 'just' emotionally afraid.
4) I tell you I value you or love you, but I treat you badly.
5) I want you to never have or get 'more' than I have or get.
6) I 'listen,' but I never compromise.
7) I pout and punish if I don't get my way.
8) I want you to question yourself and your perception.
9) I sneak to get what I want.
10) I lie to get what I want, but my lies always have a kernel of truth so they're hard to disprove.
11) I want you to think everything is normal - 'no big deal.'
12) I don't want to really know you.
13) I trick you by asking leading questions
14) If we fight, I keep you in the fight until you are exhausted. I won't let you leave until you give in.
15) I am entitled to what I want.
16) You are entitled to nothing.
17) God/Righteousness is on my side.
18) Money is on my side.
19) I ask leading questions to get you to answer the way I want.
20) I should not be accountable for my words or actions.
21) I create a common enemy who is worse or scarier than I am - this could be your boss, my mother, our next door neighbor, so you don't pay attention to my misdeeds.
If you look at the above list and think, "This is my brother." Or "This is my wife." Or "This is my minister" or "This is my coach," you are in a toxic, emotionally abusive relationship.
Here are some aspects of healthy relationships:
1)Patience
2) Generosity of spirit and emotion
3) Compromise
4) Accountability
5) Respect
6) Care/Kindness
7) Curiosity
8) Listening
9) Humility
10) Room to change and grow
11) Connectedness with other people
12) Balance
13) Non-judgemental
14) Feeling of comfort and being emotionally safe
15) Equality
16) The inside of the relationship (the way it feels) matches what is looks like on the outside (how others probably perceive the relationship)
When I look at these lists, I think about what I saw and felt last night from watching Dana Loesch. I felt that the outside didn't match the inside.
Whether it is in a public forum or in your personal life, pay attention to your gut instinct. Ask yourself questions and answer yourself honestly. Beware of wolves in sheeps clothing. When the outside doesn't match the way it feels on the inside - this is a big warning!
You don't have to know all the answers. You don't have to do it alone (leave the relationship, confront the person, fight the power). But you have the right to be treated with respect and to speak your mind.
Thursday, February 22, 2018
Monday, February 19, 2018
Paradox, Poetry, and Healing Our Big, Little Selves
In the two weeks since I last wrote, I started several different blogposts - about sex and intimacy, about talking with your teenager, about why it's hard to say 'no', about Valentine's Day and being single, and now this one. It's been difficult to focus my attention on one thing because so much has happened to shift what I think is meaningful to write about on any given day. So while I think all of those topics are interesting and I will probably revisit them. We've had another mass, school shooting in the past week and there is much talk about mental health - something about which I am supposed to be an expert. It seems the most pressing thing.
In times of great sadness and fear, when the weight of being human and the call to do something to help presses on me, when it feels that I don't have any ideas or energy left, I often go to poetry to comfort me. And this week, I found myself with a poem that I've loved since I took my first writing workshop with Colleen McKee, a St. Louis poet, in 2006. It's from a book called The Writer's Companion by Kim Addonizio and Dorianne Laux and it taught me about how to bring a character to life and how poetry can be written in simple, straightforward language. It's by Susan Browne, who I think is a Buddhist.
POEM IN MY MOTHER'S VOICE
When my mother meets God,
she says, Where the hell have you been?
Jesus Christ, don't you care about anyone
but yourself? It's time you wake up,
smell the coffee, shit or get off the pot.
You must have won your license in a fucking raffle.
You're grounded, and I don't want any back-talk.
In fact, don't talk at all until you can say something
that is not a lie, until you can tell the truth.
You know, the truth? Something in sentence form
that comes out of your mouth and is not a lie.
Could you do that for me? Is this possible
in my lifetime? Don't ever lie to me again
or I'll kill you. And get off your high-horse.
WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?
Running around the world
like a goddamn maniac, creating havoc. You have lost
the good sense you were born with. Shape up or ship out
I can't believe we're related.
My mother lights a cigarette, pitches the match
through the strings of a harp, inhales profoundly,
letting the smoke billow from her nose.
Her ruby lips press together in a righteous grimace
of disgust. She never stops watching God.
I've really had enough this time.
What do you take me for? A fool? An idiot? A patsy?
Some kind of nothing set down on earth for your convenience,
entertainment? A human punching bag? For your information
I was not born yesterday. I know what you're up to.
I have been around the block a few thousand spins of the wheel.
I have more compassion in my little finger
than you have in your entire body. I am a mother.
I care. Maybe you don't care, but I do. Care.
Do you know what that word means? Bring me the dictionary
and I will tell you what the word care means. Never mind.
How could you find a dictionary in that dump you call a room.
The whole universe of care down the toilet
because of your dirty socks. Do I look like a maid?
Did you think the purpose of my existence was to serve you?
You are barking up the wrong tree. We need to get something
straight. I am not here for you. I am here for me.
But I care. Can you possibly, in your wildest imagination,
hold two ideas in your tiny mind at the same time?
This is called paradox. Par-a-dox. We need the dictionary.
No, we need to talk. What do you have to say for yourself?
"I'm sorry," God replies.
You're sorry. Well, that's not enough. Wash that sullen look
off your face or I"ll wash it off for you.
And quit looking down. Look at me!
God lifts his heavy head,
falls into the fierce love
of my mother's green-blue eyes.
Grow up, she says.
What comforts me about this poem is that it reminds me that our human condition is a paradox.
People might not think poetry is practical, but it is.
When we are straightforward and realistic, when we engage in political and civic thought and discussion, we are 'fighting' about whether this problem we have in our country is guns or mental health. It is both. We have to hold two ideas in our minds at one time. More, even.
When we look at our technology, our phones, social media, the immediacy of all the information and opinions available to us, we wonder "Is this good or bad?" It's both.
We ourselves are paradoxical - look at the mom in this poem. What Susan Browne shows is that her mom can yell and cuss and berate, but something about her particular mom comes through - fierce love. I don't think every parent who yells and berates also conveys fierce love, but this one does.
One of the most difficult things about being human right now is that there are many forces in the world that want to dumb you down. To reduce you to your simplest form.
They want you to be smaller than your are - to think smaller than you are, to feel more petty that you are. These forces are in the media, in social media, in the things you are addicted to or nearly addicted to, in the people who might be in your life.
At the end of the poem, the mom tells God to "Grow up." That makes me laugh, but I think it's what embracing paradox is about. There are moments in the media coverage of the aftermath of the shooting in Florida last week, where I see that the students are more grown up than many of the adults who also have a media platform on these issues.
I guess that's the paradox and wisdom of this poem too. In some sense it's playful and simple, and in other ways it's very grown up and complex. Sometimes people will say to me, "I read your blog and it seems like you've got it all figured out." I don't. I am trying, I make mistakes. My kids might write funny poems about me one day, because I'm kind of weird. But, I try to both play and be a grown up.
One of the things that has enhanced my weirdness is working in dying and grieving for so long. And believe it or not, I am going to bring up back to paradox with a little anecdote about a makeup/skincare party I attended on Friday at a friend's house. I don't always sit around thinking deep thoughts. Sometimes I think about makeup. This particular line of makeup is supposed to be natural and carcinogen-free. That is it's mission. I found myself thinking - "Ah, so what. We're all going to die. I'm not opposed to wiping some carcinogens on my face. Especially if they reduce fine lines and wrinkles." This was not what I was supposed to be thinking. I was supposed to be fearful of dying and spend $80 on face cream. And I'm not opposed to that either, in theory. What I am saying is - I think often about how the time we get is limited.
We are small, but we are big. In what you do, in what you say, in how you love and who you love. We all will be dead one day, but it matters. It is everything.
In times of great sadness and fear, when the weight of being human and the call to do something to help presses on me, when it feels that I don't have any ideas or energy left, I often go to poetry to comfort me. And this week, I found myself with a poem that I've loved since I took my first writing workshop with Colleen McKee, a St. Louis poet, in 2006. It's from a book called The Writer's Companion by Kim Addonizio and Dorianne Laux and it taught me about how to bring a character to life and how poetry can be written in simple, straightforward language. It's by Susan Browne, who I think is a Buddhist.
POEM IN MY MOTHER'S VOICE
When my mother meets God,
she says, Where the hell have you been?
Jesus Christ, don't you care about anyone
but yourself? It's time you wake up,
smell the coffee, shit or get off the pot.
You must have won your license in a fucking raffle.
You're grounded, and I don't want any back-talk.
In fact, don't talk at all until you can say something
that is not a lie, until you can tell the truth.
You know, the truth? Something in sentence form
that comes out of your mouth and is not a lie.
Could you do that for me? Is this possible
in my lifetime? Don't ever lie to me again
or I'll kill you. And get off your high-horse.
WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?
Running around the world
like a goddamn maniac, creating havoc. You have lost
the good sense you were born with. Shape up or ship out
I can't believe we're related.
My mother lights a cigarette, pitches the match
through the strings of a harp, inhales profoundly,
letting the smoke billow from her nose.
Her ruby lips press together in a righteous grimace
of disgust. She never stops watching God.
I've really had enough this time.
What do you take me for? A fool? An idiot? A patsy?
Some kind of nothing set down on earth for your convenience,
entertainment? A human punching bag? For your information
I was not born yesterday. I know what you're up to.
I have been around the block a few thousand spins of the wheel.
I have more compassion in my little finger
than you have in your entire body. I am a mother.
I care. Maybe you don't care, but I do. Care.
Do you know what that word means? Bring me the dictionary
and I will tell you what the word care means. Never mind.
How could you find a dictionary in that dump you call a room.
The whole universe of care down the toilet
because of your dirty socks. Do I look like a maid?
Did you think the purpose of my existence was to serve you?
You are barking up the wrong tree. We need to get something
straight. I am not here for you. I am here for me.
But I care. Can you possibly, in your wildest imagination,
hold two ideas in your tiny mind at the same time?
This is called paradox. Par-a-dox. We need the dictionary.
No, we need to talk. What do you have to say for yourself?
"I'm sorry," God replies.
You're sorry. Well, that's not enough. Wash that sullen look
off your face or I"ll wash it off for you.
And quit looking down. Look at me!
God lifts his heavy head,
falls into the fierce love
of my mother's green-blue eyes.
Grow up, she says.
What comforts me about this poem is that it reminds me that our human condition is a paradox.
People might not think poetry is practical, but it is.
When we are straightforward and realistic, when we engage in political and civic thought and discussion, we are 'fighting' about whether this problem we have in our country is guns or mental health. It is both. We have to hold two ideas in our minds at one time. More, even.
When we look at our technology, our phones, social media, the immediacy of all the information and opinions available to us, we wonder "Is this good or bad?" It's both.
We ourselves are paradoxical - look at the mom in this poem. What Susan Browne shows is that her mom can yell and cuss and berate, but something about her particular mom comes through - fierce love. I don't think every parent who yells and berates also conveys fierce love, but this one does.
One of the most difficult things about being human right now is that there are many forces in the world that want to dumb you down. To reduce you to your simplest form.
They want you to be smaller than your are - to think smaller than you are, to feel more petty that you are. These forces are in the media, in social media, in the things you are addicted to or nearly addicted to, in the people who might be in your life.
At the end of the poem, the mom tells God to "Grow up." That makes me laugh, but I think it's what embracing paradox is about. There are moments in the media coverage of the aftermath of the shooting in Florida last week, where I see that the students are more grown up than many of the adults who also have a media platform on these issues.
I guess that's the paradox and wisdom of this poem too. In some sense it's playful and simple, and in other ways it's very grown up and complex. Sometimes people will say to me, "I read your blog and it seems like you've got it all figured out." I don't. I am trying, I make mistakes. My kids might write funny poems about me one day, because I'm kind of weird. But, I try to both play and be a grown up.
One of the things that has enhanced my weirdness is working in dying and grieving for so long. And believe it or not, I am going to bring up back to paradox with a little anecdote about a makeup/skincare party I attended on Friday at a friend's house. I don't always sit around thinking deep thoughts. Sometimes I think about makeup. This particular line of makeup is supposed to be natural and carcinogen-free. That is it's mission. I found myself thinking - "Ah, so what. We're all going to die. I'm not opposed to wiping some carcinogens on my face. Especially if they reduce fine lines and wrinkles." This was not what I was supposed to be thinking. I was supposed to be fearful of dying and spend $80 on face cream. And I'm not opposed to that either, in theory. What I am saying is - I think often about how the time we get is limited.
We are small, but we are big. In what you do, in what you say, in how you love and who you love. We all will be dead one day, but it matters. It is everything.
Sunday, February 4, 2018
Social Media + Outrage = Masturbation; Or, Thinking it Through Before We Post
Last weekend, I read an article that popped up on my Apple News about a Dane Cook (age 45 and a celebrity, kind of) and his girlfriend, Kelsi Talor (age 19). This article was from People magazine and presented their romance as if it were just another storybook romance of famous people for public consumption and celebration, such as Justin Timberlake and Jessica Biel. I felt very weird inside of me and that feeling was anger. My anger is usually a slow burn. I'm like, "What is that feeling? Something feels yucky. Oh, that's something really gross. Is it gross? Yes, it is gross and upsetting. Is People magazine tone deaf? Are really supposed to read this and think - 'cute!'??? Hello! #metoo!" I was, for me, outraged.
I thought about it for about 10 seconds. Maybe I'll post this on my fb feed and just see what other people think. I did. I said something like, "Does anyone else find this disturbing?" And I went to bed.
When I woke up in the morning, there were some comments. Mostly, stuff like, "Yes. Ewww. Gross." And one friend, a Professional Naysayer was like, "Maybe it's possible they are happy and fulfilling each others needs." I am shorthanding that. Then, he said, "what would you tell them if they came to you for therapy?"
At that point, I fought my desire to shoot back a further outraged response (not at my friend, I would expect no less - but a clarification about how this 'relationship' is an abuse of power) and I went on a run.
This blogpost is not about overtly about #metoo or this couple or the actual words I used to respond. It's about the process of how and why we try to argue or connect on social media. It's about our relationship to outrage.
And, I don't know about you, but I'm getting so tired of outrage - even my own. Everybody is outraged about everything. Newscasters are outraged. My facebook feed is full of outrage. Sometimes something outrageous just catches my eye and I read it just to make myself mad. In October 2017 Yale neuroscientist, Molly Crockett published a paper on Outrage in the Social Media Age, which basically said we are getting inured to outrage. It's like junk food snacking. We go get an outrage fix when we are not even hungry and the findings are that we are less likely to 'do' anything positive to make the changes in the world we are so outraged about.
Ok, so back to the moment last weekend when I am going out for that run I mentioned. I am thinking of these very acerbic things to say about how I will charge Dane Cook my D-list celebrity rate of $500 an hour to make him NOT into a narcissist anymore. And then I start fantasizing about how I could have like a D-list celebrity reality therapy show like Dr. Drew used to have that Rehab show. And then I think, "Why D-List? Why NOT A-List??" Then, I get out of that fantasy and start thinking if I really post that snarky comment what will be the result of that? And how people will think it's funny and I will probably get a lot of likes. But is that really the kind of thing I want to say? Do I enjoy "cheap shots = Likes?" Also, do I have the energy for this shit? Because...look, Katy, you've got to go to work today and also you are taking kids to a play tonight and having another kid spend the night. So, no...maybe I won't go snarky. Maybe I will just make a mature comment and make sure I end the discussion somehow. And then my run was over. And that's what I did. So here were my steps:
1) Pause and go for a run
2) Fantasize about the mean, snarky stuff I want to say
3) Think ahead about what the results of my actions might be and why I might want or not want to say those outraged words
4) Assess whether I have the energy for those results
5) Make a decision based on how and where I want to spend my energy on a given day and how I want to represent myself in the world.
6) Choose a more measured, less outraged response that also establishes a boundary (which was, "I probably am not going to make any more comments on this post because I have a busy day.')
In the end, I actually think outrage in these online formats is a lot like masturbation. The tension we've built up is our righteous indignation about WHATEVER. It wants release. And 'luckily', through social media, we've developed communities of largely like minded people. So when we are outraged on social media, we have a build up of tension and then a release of our tension and then we have the added reinforcement of our online community going, "yes, yes, you are so smart. I love this!" (Did my analogy just get super-gross/weird?!?) There is a lot of ego involved. And it's not an experience where there is genuine connection and communication. I think masturbation is a good thing, but it's not the same as good sex, which ideally is about communication and connection and the other person as much as yourself.
In part, I think that's why most of the social media 'arguments' about politics and social issues I see and participate in often feel so frustrating and empty. There is often no real relationship.
I know I am being purposefully provocative even when I make this analogy, but I will give a more serious example.
Another discussion I recently was involved in had to do with race and politics in a local election. I knew I was stepping into a volatile area and trying to make a nuanced point and therefore I knew I was opening myself up to criticism. I received the response I anticipated and I felt slightly attacked. And I really thought about how and why I tried to put myself out there and what it felt like to be schooled in the ways I was. It actually tapped into a deep pain inside me.
The pain was that these people, even friends, online, can't and don't know all my life experience. The way working in death and dying all these years has developed certain 'muscles' in me. The way it has made me practice mercy day in and day out. To see that suffering, loss, physical pain, tragedy, courage and love are not owned by one group of people - not rich, not poor, not Democrat, not Republican, not women, not men, not black, not white. Everyone deserves to be seen and have their humanity seen. And these people online can't and don't know my own painful life experiences and how they make me tender and vulnerable in specific ways. It's on ME to know these things about me and make good choices about how to take care of my own tenderness. And all that being said, I am not more RIGHT than they are. I have just developed a certain way of experiencing the world.
What I think we need more of in this world is genuine connection. I think we need to be responsible for how we go about seeking connection. The change we want in the world and in our own lives starts with pausing and thinking it through. The peace, justice, love, courage and beauty we want will start in person, one on one. The real revolution will not be televised. Or posted.
I thought about it for about 10 seconds. Maybe I'll post this on my fb feed and just see what other people think. I did. I said something like, "Does anyone else find this disturbing?" And I went to bed.
When I woke up in the morning, there were some comments. Mostly, stuff like, "Yes. Ewww. Gross." And one friend, a Professional Naysayer was like, "Maybe it's possible they are happy and fulfilling each others needs." I am shorthanding that. Then, he said, "what would you tell them if they came to you for therapy?"
At that point, I fought my desire to shoot back a further outraged response (not at my friend, I would expect no less - but a clarification about how this 'relationship' is an abuse of power) and I went on a run.
This blogpost is not about overtly about #metoo or this couple or the actual words I used to respond. It's about the process of how and why we try to argue or connect on social media. It's about our relationship to outrage.
And, I don't know about you, but I'm getting so tired of outrage - even my own. Everybody is outraged about everything. Newscasters are outraged. My facebook feed is full of outrage. Sometimes something outrageous just catches my eye and I read it just to make myself mad. In October 2017 Yale neuroscientist, Molly Crockett published a paper on Outrage in the Social Media Age, which basically said we are getting inured to outrage. It's like junk food snacking. We go get an outrage fix when we are not even hungry and the findings are that we are less likely to 'do' anything positive to make the changes in the world we are so outraged about.
Ok, so back to the moment last weekend when I am going out for that run I mentioned. I am thinking of these very acerbic things to say about how I will charge Dane Cook my D-list celebrity rate of $500 an hour to make him NOT into a narcissist anymore. And then I start fantasizing about how I could have like a D-list celebrity reality therapy show like Dr. Drew used to have that Rehab show. And then I think, "Why D-List? Why NOT A-List??" Then, I get out of that fantasy and start thinking if I really post that snarky comment what will be the result of that? And how people will think it's funny and I will probably get a lot of likes. But is that really the kind of thing I want to say? Do I enjoy "cheap shots = Likes?" Also, do I have the energy for this shit? Because...look, Katy, you've got to go to work today and also you are taking kids to a play tonight and having another kid spend the night. So, no...maybe I won't go snarky. Maybe I will just make a mature comment and make sure I end the discussion somehow. And then my run was over. And that's what I did. So here were my steps:
1) Pause and go for a run
2) Fantasize about the mean, snarky stuff I want to say
3) Think ahead about what the results of my actions might be and why I might want or not want to say those outraged words
4) Assess whether I have the energy for those results
5) Make a decision based on how and where I want to spend my energy on a given day and how I want to represent myself in the world.
6) Choose a more measured, less outraged response that also establishes a boundary (which was, "I probably am not going to make any more comments on this post because I have a busy day.')
In the end, I actually think outrage in these online formats is a lot like masturbation. The tension we've built up is our righteous indignation about WHATEVER. It wants release. And 'luckily', through social media, we've developed communities of largely like minded people. So when we are outraged on social media, we have a build up of tension and then a release of our tension and then we have the added reinforcement of our online community going, "yes, yes, you are so smart. I love this!" (Did my analogy just get super-gross/weird?!?) There is a lot of ego involved. And it's not an experience where there is genuine connection and communication. I think masturbation is a good thing, but it's not the same as good sex, which ideally is about communication and connection and the other person as much as yourself.
In part, I think that's why most of the social media 'arguments' about politics and social issues I see and participate in often feel so frustrating and empty. There is often no real relationship.
I know I am being purposefully provocative even when I make this analogy, but I will give a more serious example.
Another discussion I recently was involved in had to do with race and politics in a local election. I knew I was stepping into a volatile area and trying to make a nuanced point and therefore I knew I was opening myself up to criticism. I received the response I anticipated and I felt slightly attacked. And I really thought about how and why I tried to put myself out there and what it felt like to be schooled in the ways I was. It actually tapped into a deep pain inside me.
The pain was that these people, even friends, online, can't and don't know all my life experience. The way working in death and dying all these years has developed certain 'muscles' in me. The way it has made me practice mercy day in and day out. To see that suffering, loss, physical pain, tragedy, courage and love are not owned by one group of people - not rich, not poor, not Democrat, not Republican, not women, not men, not black, not white. Everyone deserves to be seen and have their humanity seen. And these people online can't and don't know my own painful life experiences and how they make me tender and vulnerable in specific ways. It's on ME to know these things about me and make good choices about how to take care of my own tenderness. And all that being said, I am not more RIGHT than they are. I have just developed a certain way of experiencing the world.
What I think we need more of in this world is genuine connection. I think we need to be responsible for how we go about seeking connection. The change we want in the world and in our own lives starts with pausing and thinking it through. The peace, justice, love, courage and beauty we want will start in person, one on one. The real revolution will not be televised. Or posted.
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