As my four, maybe six, readers know, I attend the Unitarian Universalist church here in Idaho Falls. We're an eclectic group. Some of us are Budhist, some are pantheistic, some are pagan, some worship Norse gods and goddesses, some are agnostic, some are atheist (me, me, me!), some are new agey, and some I haven't talked to or figured out yet. But as I've said before, we disagree about where we come from, what we're doing here on earth, and where we'll go after we die. Put us in a room together to vote on anything from our seven principles to whether UUs should adopt a stance on war and peace, and we'll argue, cajole, debate, and get loud. But again, as I've mentioned in previous posts, we manage to make a loving, committed community in spite of these differences. What we generally have in common is our desire for social justice, peace, egalitarianism and deeper understanding of different circumstances. What's even more amazing is we manage to get things done both in our congregation and in the community at large.
What each of us brings to the community is our own subjective experience. Some of us have felt things or seen things or heard things that make us feel like there is some kind of higher power out there watching us. Some of us have never had any kind of experience like that. Some of us may have had these types of experiences, but written them off as emotional responses to beauty, fear, guilt, whatever. But we respect each others' subjective experiences. While most UUs hold very few things sacred, our subjective experiences are one of the things we do.
We also use different language to describe these experiences. Some people use words like revelation, blessings or spirit. Some use words like dream, gifts or connection. But each of us understands that these experiences, regardless of how biological or not they are, are meaningful to us. These experiences help us cope with the difficult elements of life. These experiences give us strength and healing. And for those of us who don't have these types of experiences, perhaps we scratch our head, but accept that the people we're talking with are sincere in their belief and entirely accepting of our own lack of belief.
And this brings me to dogma. I'm not writing this post to convince everyone to become UU. I'm done being a missionary. I will proselytize no more forever. I'm simply using my UU congregation as a microcosm to look at a broader issue I've seen in my larger community lately. Some of my close friends (one of whom even attends the UU congregation here on occasion) have been speaking out against religion and religious language in all its forms. They've been calling out religious liberals for their "irrational langauge," their "adherence to superstition", or their belief in "magic". Just today I was using the phrase, "kool-aide drinkers" in reference to people who accepted their respective faith without question. So I understand the ease of reductive language. But in the case of larger societal discourse, I find it unhelpful. I worry that we atheists are beginning to formulate our own dogma and display intollerance similar to the kind we criticize so vehemently in some religious sects.
I'm not saying that blind adherence to any ideal is a good thing. I'll continue to criticize religious sects or leaders who I feel are harming their members or certain groups of society. I'm not calling for a cessation in criticism, only for an examination of our own prejudices. I know many faithful, believing Christians and hippie, happy pagans who share my ideals of equality for women, the right to choose, equality for gay and lesbian citizens and tolerance and acceptance of beliefs that are different from but do not threaten their own or others' ways of life.
The source for their commitment to equality is their understanding of Jesus' teachings or their understanding of their place in nature just as the source for my commitment to equality is the realization that this life is all I've got and so I should try to make the most of it for myself and others. But ultimately, we're working toward the same goals. Why would I want to alienate myself from these kind, compassionate and motivated people simply because they hold a belief that I find baseless? Is their belief threatening me? No. Are they insistent that I accept their belief? No.
I understand that religion can be harmful. Boy do I understand. The religion of my childhood and adolescence caused me so much pain as I got older and realized that my goals in life conflicted with those prescribed for me by that religion. I'll be honest and say that I feel the higher-ups in many religions do take pains to control their membership with fear and guilt. But I'll also acknowledge that this is not everyone's experience of religion. For some, religion is nothing but a net positive. Religion has spoken to them and prodded them along the path of sharing and love.
So I guess what I'm arguing for is less dogma from either side. Call for questioning of assumptions. Call for questioning of authority. But don't stomp on someone's motivation for causes that you feel strongly about. Where religious liberals are concerned, we must search for common ground rather than getting hung up on differences in motivation. Even if everyone became Christian or pagan or atheistic, we'd still disagree about things. Why not work more on practicing a society who accepts and thrives on those differences (again, as long as those differences aren't harming people or groups) rather than one that insists on such strict conformity?
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Friday, April 2, 2010
On Grace
Amazing Grace is probably my most favorite song of all time. I have lots of favorite songs that are favorites for different reasons, but I always come back to Amazing Grace when I need comfort or need to unwind from stressful situations. Recently, this song has become something of a meditation for me that I will play and sing over and over again when I need to clear my mind.
I've often wondered about my fascination with this song. It's one of the few gospel songs I've maintained a liking for since leaving Christianity behind. Ironically, it was never in Mormon hymnbooks when I was growing up, and while this is somewhat beside the point, I remember feeling somewhat guilty that I liked a non-approved hymn so thoroughly. At any rate, my love for the hymn now stems from a combination of what I feel is a beautiful, versatile melody and from my need to internalize the song in ways that are meaningful to me even in my atheism.
I was discussing atheist spirituality with a friend about a month ago. As usual, he was much more on the ball about writing a post, but finally, here is my own addition to the discussion, albeit slightly more focused on one concept.
I hesitate to explain too much of my former, Mormon views about grace, mostly because I don't want to bog down this post. But I feel a little background would be helpful. Mormons believe grace will save you after you have tried your hardest to be a righteous person and, according to some interpretations I've heard, gone through the temple and received your endowment. As a Mormon, I was always led to believe that other brands of Christianity depended too much on grace for salvation. I was under the impression that other Christians could be horrible people if they wanted to but because of their concept of grace could still receive salvation if they had had their own revelatory experience of being saved or born again. Shortly before my exit from Mormonism, I learned about the concept of grace being something like a boost to help you to God since as a mortal, your efforts to be perfect would ultimately fall short.
It's that last definition that I've co-opted and tinkered with for my own use in how I try to deal with my fellow humans. The guiding principle of my life right now is accepting the ambiguity that is life. We humans are never going to get everything right. How many of us have done something with the best of intentions, only to watch ourselves cause a loved one pain when we were sure we'd be helping them? One could argue for the goodness of our action from our intentions or for the inadequacy of our action from the pain it caused our loved one. But really, the situation is ambiguous. You can't really pin down how bad or good it was. All you're left with is the reality of the pain caused and the regret at having failed someone. For me, this is where grace comes in.
Grace as I currently define it is my own acknowledgment, acceptance of and forgiveness for mine and others' shortcomings. It's that boost I offer to myself and others when I know the disappointment we've caused each other was unintentional.
This definition fits in making Amazing Grace a good metaphor for my life. The thought that my loved ones will forgive me for my foibles, "how sweet the sound." And while I have no hope of an afterlife, I do hope that this concept of grace will save me in a more practical way by allowing me to see the good intentions of others.
Even the line, "twas Grace that taught my heart to fear," holds some truth for me in that leaving Christianity and Mormonism left me painfully aware of my shortcomings and the relative fruitlessness of my efforts. But this definition gives me hope that if I extend grace to others, I'll be the recipient of their own grace when I fall short of their expectations.
I don't really know what questions I have for this post. I'm interested in hearing your own thoughts about spirituality or the lack there of, in criticisms you might have of my definition/use or of your own thoughts on the subject. Please discuss :)
I've often wondered about my fascination with this song. It's one of the few gospel songs I've maintained a liking for since leaving Christianity behind. Ironically, it was never in Mormon hymnbooks when I was growing up, and while this is somewhat beside the point, I remember feeling somewhat guilty that I liked a non-approved hymn so thoroughly. At any rate, my love for the hymn now stems from a combination of what I feel is a beautiful, versatile melody and from my need to internalize the song in ways that are meaningful to me even in my atheism.
I was discussing atheist spirituality with a friend about a month ago. As usual, he was much more on the ball about writing a post, but finally, here is my own addition to the discussion, albeit slightly more focused on one concept.
I hesitate to explain too much of my former, Mormon views about grace, mostly because I don't want to bog down this post. But I feel a little background would be helpful. Mormons believe grace will save you after you have tried your hardest to be a righteous person and, according to some interpretations I've heard, gone through the temple and received your endowment. As a Mormon, I was always led to believe that other brands of Christianity depended too much on grace for salvation. I was under the impression that other Christians could be horrible people if they wanted to but because of their concept of grace could still receive salvation if they had had their own revelatory experience of being saved or born again. Shortly before my exit from Mormonism, I learned about the concept of grace being something like a boost to help you to God since as a mortal, your efforts to be perfect would ultimately fall short.
It's that last definition that I've co-opted and tinkered with for my own use in how I try to deal with my fellow humans. The guiding principle of my life right now is accepting the ambiguity that is life. We humans are never going to get everything right. How many of us have done something with the best of intentions, only to watch ourselves cause a loved one pain when we were sure we'd be helping them? One could argue for the goodness of our action from our intentions or for the inadequacy of our action from the pain it caused our loved one. But really, the situation is ambiguous. You can't really pin down how bad or good it was. All you're left with is the reality of the pain caused and the regret at having failed someone. For me, this is where grace comes in.
Grace as I currently define it is my own acknowledgment, acceptance of and forgiveness for mine and others' shortcomings. It's that boost I offer to myself and others when I know the disappointment we've caused each other was unintentional.
This definition fits in making Amazing Grace a good metaphor for my life. The thought that my loved ones will forgive me for my foibles, "how sweet the sound." And while I have no hope of an afterlife, I do hope that this concept of grace will save me in a more practical way by allowing me to see the good intentions of others.
Even the line, "twas Grace that taught my heart to fear," holds some truth for me in that leaving Christianity and Mormonism left me painfully aware of my shortcomings and the relative fruitlessness of my efforts. But this definition gives me hope that if I extend grace to others, I'll be the recipient of their own grace when I fall short of their expectations.
I don't really know what questions I have for this post. I'm interested in hearing your own thoughts about spirituality or the lack there of, in criticisms you might have of my definition/use or of your own thoughts on the subject. Please discuss :)
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Getting Rich
I want more money. I realize that's rather an ungrateful thing to say given that my income still puts me in the top seven percent of wage earners world wide. But it's true none the less. I want more money. Given my current situation, I'm always teetering on the edge of financial disaster. I mean, I pay my rent, my childcare, my bills, every month. I feed my kids, though perhaps not as healthily as I'd like to. Thankfully they get most of their meals at daycare each day, and they're able to provide a more balanced diet than I am. I'm able to get a few extras here and there. I can buy an album of music I like from time to time. Every once in awhile I'm able to buy myself or my kids some new clothes or shoes. But if one of us gets seriously hurt or ill, or in the case of my youngest, needs more medication for existing conditions, then I'm pretty much screwed.
But that's not the only reason I want more money. I feel powerless. I admit that ideally, there are some things I'd like to be able to buy without hesitation: music, art from friends, and admittedly new clothes from time to time (although I'm really not that big a clothes horse. I keep all the clothes I own in my closet, and it's not even crowded). I don't need much more out of life than these things. I don't mind small houses; I eventually hope to live and work somewhere where I won't need a car for daily transportation. I don't want to get rich so I can accumulate more stuff (except for where the music, art etc. comes in). But I do want more money so that I have more freedom and don't spend a lot of my time worrying about what happens if something disastrous happens.
Perhaps the last reason I want more money is that I'm tired of not being able to help out. When the earthquake struck Haiti, when the hurricane struck New Orleans, when the tsunami hit India, I wasn't able to give really anything to the organizations over there providing aide. I did contribute a little. Don't get me wrong, I realize that if I can afford a new album here or there I can also afford to give some money to charity. And I try to make sacrifices in my personal wants when I feel like someone else needs my money more immediately. But I'd like to do both some day. I'd like to be able to surround myself with the beautiful things in life as well as help others have those things.
Those of you who know me in real life know that I'm making a move toward hopefully improving my financial situation (I have to be vague as I don't want this getting to my employers yet). But am I being naive? Does more earning ability automatically make one greedy? Am I going to forget this desire to live small and simply and compassionately when I'm bringing home a bigger pay check? Also, for my readers who may still be working toward being settled in, what do you hope for once you feel like you've reached a point of financial stability? For those of you who feel relatively well established, what do you enjoy in life? What are your concerns now?
But that's not the only reason I want more money. I feel powerless. I admit that ideally, there are some things I'd like to be able to buy without hesitation: music, art from friends, and admittedly new clothes from time to time (although I'm really not that big a clothes horse. I keep all the clothes I own in my closet, and it's not even crowded). I don't need much more out of life than these things. I don't mind small houses; I eventually hope to live and work somewhere where I won't need a car for daily transportation. I don't want to get rich so I can accumulate more stuff (except for where the music, art etc. comes in). But I do want more money so that I have more freedom and don't spend a lot of my time worrying about what happens if something disastrous happens.
Perhaps the last reason I want more money is that I'm tired of not being able to help out. When the earthquake struck Haiti, when the hurricane struck New Orleans, when the tsunami hit India, I wasn't able to give really anything to the organizations over there providing aide. I did contribute a little. Don't get me wrong, I realize that if I can afford a new album here or there I can also afford to give some money to charity. And I try to make sacrifices in my personal wants when I feel like someone else needs my money more immediately. But I'd like to do both some day. I'd like to be able to surround myself with the beautiful things in life as well as help others have those things.
Those of you who know me in real life know that I'm making a move toward hopefully improving my financial situation (I have to be vague as I don't want this getting to my employers yet). But am I being naive? Does more earning ability automatically make one greedy? Am I going to forget this desire to live small and simply and compassionately when I'm bringing home a bigger pay check? Also, for my readers who may still be working toward being settled in, what do you hope for once you feel like you've reached a point of financial stability? For those of you who feel relatively well established, what do you enjoy in life? What are your concerns now?
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
On Hair. TMI ALERT!
I want to talk about hair. The hair on my head, the hair under my arms, the hair on my legs and the hair "down there" (read that phrase in a Vogue magazine one time and liked it. Dunno why).
I'm recently learning to love the hair on my head. As you can tell from my profile pic, I'm a brunette. What may not be quite as obvious, is that it's also curly. Not kinky curly, not wavy, but an odd mixture of curls and waves that have a mind of their own. Now, the color of my hair has never bothered me. I'm not one to get highlights or colors put in my hair. I've done it before and liked it, but it seems impractical given my budget and time constraints. But as I said, recently I've learned how to take care of my hair and what products keep it in some semblance of order (or artful disorder, as the case may be). So it's longer than it's been in years, and I'm generally satisfied with how it looks.
I'm really not sure what the hair under my arms looks like. I started shaving it when I was about 14 (I was a late bloomer. I'm sure it's earlier for a lot of women). So all I know about it is that it's dark and gets stubbly after a couple of days without meeting my razor. However, since becoming familiar with Amanda "Fucking" Palmer and her brazen ways, I'm considering changing that. It's not that I mind shaving. Many, many men shave their faces or at least parts of their faces everyday. This isn't necessarily an issue I'm spending a lot of feminist energy on. But I'm tired of shaving under my arms. I'm not entirely certain whether I will or not, but watching a woman like AFP be successful and confident and beautiful all the while having hairy pits... Well, why not? It'd save me that much more time in the mornings (I am not a morning person. I get up in *just* enough time to shower and get my ass out the door).
Now for the hair on my legs. Honestly? I like my legs to be bald. I like the way they feel when I rub them up against each other and they're all smooth. And I like how even cotton sheets feel like satin after I've shaved. So chances are, I'm gonna keep shaving them. I didn't start shaving them til I was in my mid teens. I simply didn't want to mess with it. But if I recall correctly, my leg hair, while dark, is rather fine. So I think I could probably go without shaving them. But I'm not gonna. 'Cause I like it :)
While I like my legs to be bald, I do not like bald pussy. These words by Eve Ensler (in the first chapter of her Vagina Monologues) were incredibly comforting to me, "You have to love hair in order to love the vagina. You can't pick the parts you want." And yet, most underclothing and bathing suit styles nowadays insist that women should be completely bald, except for their heads. Well, sorry. I ain't buyin' it. I mean, I do buy bathing suits and panties. But I don't buy the idea that I should have to be bald. Not down there. However, as I said earlier, I haven't been expending a lot of feminist energy on this. I'll be quite frank, I do some maintenance down there. I mean, folks trim and shave the hair on their heads and faces (or legs and armpits). So I don't see it as being far fetched to do the same to pubic hair. But I refuse to shave it or wax it into non-existence.
Ultimately what I'm saying is that from here on out, my hair will be about me. About what I'm comfortable with, enjoy etc. I'm tired of it being about a larger cultural beauty standard. AFP tweeted this today, "hopefully ... we'll change the cultural beauty & shaving standard this year." And that's what I hope for as well. I have enough things to worry about. I'm tired of this being one of them.
How about my few readers (bless your enduring, "omg, here Lessie goes again, and we're reading anyway" hearts)? How do you all feel about your hair? All of it? Do you like your hair long? Short? Do you like smooth legs or a more natural look? Are you a wild and bushy type down there? Or do you like a hairless look (cause seriously, I really don't care either way)? Do any of these things bother you? Worry you? I wanna hear.
I'm recently learning to love the hair on my head. As you can tell from my profile pic, I'm a brunette. What may not be quite as obvious, is that it's also curly. Not kinky curly, not wavy, but an odd mixture of curls and waves that have a mind of their own. Now, the color of my hair has never bothered me. I'm not one to get highlights or colors put in my hair. I've done it before and liked it, but it seems impractical given my budget and time constraints. But as I said, recently I've learned how to take care of my hair and what products keep it in some semblance of order (or artful disorder, as the case may be). So it's longer than it's been in years, and I'm generally satisfied with how it looks.
I'm really not sure what the hair under my arms looks like. I started shaving it when I was about 14 (I was a late bloomer. I'm sure it's earlier for a lot of women). So all I know about it is that it's dark and gets stubbly after a couple of days without meeting my razor. However, since becoming familiar with Amanda "Fucking" Palmer and her brazen ways, I'm considering changing that. It's not that I mind shaving. Many, many men shave their faces or at least parts of their faces everyday. This isn't necessarily an issue I'm spending a lot of feminist energy on. But I'm tired of shaving under my arms. I'm not entirely certain whether I will or not, but watching a woman like AFP be successful and confident and beautiful all the while having hairy pits... Well, why not? It'd save me that much more time in the mornings (I am not a morning person. I get up in *just* enough time to shower and get my ass out the door).
Now for the hair on my legs. Honestly? I like my legs to be bald. I like the way they feel when I rub them up against each other and they're all smooth. And I like how even cotton sheets feel like satin after I've shaved. So chances are, I'm gonna keep shaving them. I didn't start shaving them til I was in my mid teens. I simply didn't want to mess with it. But if I recall correctly, my leg hair, while dark, is rather fine. So I think I could probably go without shaving them. But I'm not gonna. 'Cause I like it :)
While I like my legs to be bald, I do not like bald pussy. These words by Eve Ensler (in the first chapter of her Vagina Monologues) were incredibly comforting to me, "You have to love hair in order to love the vagina. You can't pick the parts you want." And yet, most underclothing and bathing suit styles nowadays insist that women should be completely bald, except for their heads. Well, sorry. I ain't buyin' it. I mean, I do buy bathing suits and panties. But I don't buy the idea that I should have to be bald. Not down there. However, as I said earlier, I haven't been expending a lot of feminist energy on this. I'll be quite frank, I do some maintenance down there. I mean, folks trim and shave the hair on their heads and faces (or legs and armpits). So I don't see it as being far fetched to do the same to pubic hair. But I refuse to shave it or wax it into non-existence.
Ultimately what I'm saying is that from here on out, my hair will be about me. About what I'm comfortable with, enjoy etc. I'm tired of it being about a larger cultural beauty standard. AFP tweeted this today, "hopefully ... we'll change the cultural beauty & shaving standard this year." And that's what I hope for as well. I have enough things to worry about. I'm tired of this being one of them.
How about my few readers (bless your enduring, "omg, here Lessie goes again, and we're reading anyway" hearts)? How do you all feel about your hair? All of it? Do you like your hair long? Short? Do you like smooth legs or a more natural look? Are you a wild and bushy type down there? Or do you like a hairless look (cause seriously, I really don't care either way)? Do any of these things bother you? Worry you? I wanna hear.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Sorting Memories
So my ex moved to a new apartment this weekend and found a few boxes of my things that had inadvertently gone to him when we split. Living in a shoebox as I do, I've been going through the boxes all day long so I can get them out of my livingroom as quickly as possible. It's been a trying day.
At this point in my life, I still see my marriage as something that I failed miserably at. I went through the boxes and found receipts and pamphlets from the several get-rich-quick and personal business opportunities that A and I invested in. We literally dumped thousands of dollars on Mary Kay cosmetics, ACN phone company, real estate investment companies and financial advisers. I winced each time I pulled out an item we had put so much hope and expectancy into and that had ultimately only caused us to lose more money. I'm not saying these businesses have never been successful for some, but my ex and I had to learn the hard way at least three different times to figure out that we're just not good at sales. What's worse, each of these ventures caused all kinds of friction in our marriage as we would blame the other one for wasting so much money and time on something that we knew they weren't going to succeed at.
Other boxes are full of cards and letters. Some of them from well-wishers when we got married, some of them to and from each other when we were dating or first married. Some of them from my mom. But most all of them painful reminders of a me that I don't really even remember. I look back on the time that those letters recall as one of doubt and fear. I don't remember the happy, love-smitten, spiritual giant that they describe. It's kept me wondering all day which was more authentic, the person all those cards and letters are talking to or the person that I remember?
Still other boxes are full of baby blankets that people made for our oldest son when he was born. I assume I received these simply because my ex didn't want to have to store them anymore. Still, they bring back ambivalent times. The months leading up to, during and after T's birth are some of the most painful and dark in my recent memory. They exposed a side of my ex that I hadn't known existed up to that point. The happy puppies and teddy bears on the blue and yellow backgrounds just seem flat and burdensome now.
So I guess ultimately what I'm asking is, what do I do with all this stuff? I have such limited space. My little apartment is already bursting at the seams with papers and pictures that the boys bring home from school and daycare. There's not a lot of room for much more. But at the same time, I'm reluctant to get rid of everything in those boxes. As painful as the memories are, they were a real part of my life, and I feel a need to hang on to some of it. Suggestions for sorting through all this mess would be great. How do you decide which memories to keep and which ones to toss?
At this point in my life, I still see my marriage as something that I failed miserably at. I went through the boxes and found receipts and pamphlets from the several get-rich-quick and personal business opportunities that A and I invested in. We literally dumped thousands of dollars on Mary Kay cosmetics, ACN phone company, real estate investment companies and financial advisers. I winced each time I pulled out an item we had put so much hope and expectancy into and that had ultimately only caused us to lose more money. I'm not saying these businesses have never been successful for some, but my ex and I had to learn the hard way at least three different times to figure out that we're just not good at sales. What's worse, each of these ventures caused all kinds of friction in our marriage as we would blame the other one for wasting so much money and time on something that we knew they weren't going to succeed at.
Other boxes are full of cards and letters. Some of them from well-wishers when we got married, some of them to and from each other when we were dating or first married. Some of them from my mom. But most all of them painful reminders of a me that I don't really even remember. I look back on the time that those letters recall as one of doubt and fear. I don't remember the happy, love-smitten, spiritual giant that they describe. It's kept me wondering all day which was more authentic, the person all those cards and letters are talking to or the person that I remember?
Still other boxes are full of baby blankets that people made for our oldest son when he was born. I assume I received these simply because my ex didn't want to have to store them anymore. Still, they bring back ambivalent times. The months leading up to, during and after T's birth are some of the most painful and dark in my recent memory. They exposed a side of my ex that I hadn't known existed up to that point. The happy puppies and teddy bears on the blue and yellow backgrounds just seem flat and burdensome now.
So I guess ultimately what I'm asking is, what do I do with all this stuff? I have such limited space. My little apartment is already bursting at the seams with papers and pictures that the boys bring home from school and daycare. There's not a lot of room for much more. But at the same time, I'm reluctant to get rid of everything in those boxes. As painful as the memories are, they were a real part of my life, and I feel a need to hang on to some of it. Suggestions for sorting through all this mess would be great. How do you decide which memories to keep and which ones to toss?
Sunday, October 11, 2009
If Only It Were Just Blindness
So a friend sent me a message on facebook today. He told me he'd seen some special on PBS about this new technique that allows some blind people to see, at least on a minimal level. While I'm sure this friend meant well, as Gareth gets older, I worry less about his vision and more about the other medical conditions that he was born with. Why isn't everyone concerned about fixing those?
Many blind children also have either debilitating or potentially debilitating diseases that accompany their blindness. With Gareth, it's SOD. Missing a septum pallucidum isn't a big deal. Having an under-developed pituitary gland is. It puts him at higher risk for diseases like diabetes, could potentially stunt his reproductive health and will almost certainly affect his ability to grow normally. From what I understand, there could also be potential cognitive issues that arise if he doesn't receive treatment. Maybe I'm insensitive, but doesn't blindness pale in comparison to these other issues?
But ironically enough, blindness is the "visible" part of his disease. It's the part that everyone else can see when they meet Gareth. He still determinedly rocks his head back and forth. He still walks into table edges if you don't warn him in time. He stumbles over toys in front of him. Daycare workers, family members and your average Jane on the street can see these symptoms. And they think they can potentially relate to them as well. They think, "Gee. That would suck to live in the dark all the time," or "oh, the poor blind child. I bet he's gonna be another Stevie Wonder when he grows up. I'll give him free music lessons. To hell with his sighted sibling." And so they spend all their pity and condescension on fixing that.
But they don't see the cysts in his brain. They don't see his almost non-existent pituitary gland. They don't see him two years down the road when he's receiving hormone shots everyday of his life until he hits a potentially induced puberty. And frankly, next to those worries, I'm not so much worried about the fact that he can't see. That's normal for Gareth. As far as he's concerned, blindness is business as usual. Not that there won't be the occasional insensitive playground bully. Not that he won't face some discrimination. I do realize that it's going to be something he'll have to deal with. But being unhealthy isn't normal for anyone. When your body starts to rebel against what you think it ought to do, you're going to notice--regardless of whether you can see or not.
And who are we kidding? The diseases that accompany most children's blindness are what's going to cause their families the most worry financially as well. Luckily most of us are covered by some kind of state program or other. But we all know that given a sudden rise in income, or an improvement in functionality, our children could lose that coverage and then who's going to pay for that? I admit this keeps me up some nights.
But again, these are the parts of our children's conditions that people don't see. And so they don't send us news about stem-cell research regarding gland re-building, or fighting blood related or auto-immune disorders. We get access to that information through our service coordinators, doctors, etc. But for me at least, it sometimes gets irritating to have family members and friends send me stuff regarding only the blindness, wanting to fix my poor broken child who, if they really took a look, is actually a pretty normal kid overall, but who will also face some serious health challenges as he ages.
Lastly, I know these people mean well. But seriously, folks (and I'm talking more generally. Not to the people who read here. Most of you have been incredibly sensitive in real life), don't be afraid to ask me questions. Don't make assumptions.
Cross-posted.
Many blind children also have either debilitating or potentially debilitating diseases that accompany their blindness. With Gareth, it's SOD. Missing a septum pallucidum isn't a big deal. Having an under-developed pituitary gland is. It puts him at higher risk for diseases like diabetes, could potentially stunt his reproductive health and will almost certainly affect his ability to grow normally. From what I understand, there could also be potential cognitive issues that arise if he doesn't receive treatment. Maybe I'm insensitive, but doesn't blindness pale in comparison to these other issues?
But ironically enough, blindness is the "visible" part of his disease. It's the part that everyone else can see when they meet Gareth. He still determinedly rocks his head back and forth. He still walks into table edges if you don't warn him in time. He stumbles over toys in front of him. Daycare workers, family members and your average Jane on the street can see these symptoms. And they think they can potentially relate to them as well. They think, "Gee. That would suck to live in the dark all the time," or "oh, the poor blind child. I bet he's gonna be another Stevie Wonder when he grows up. I'll give him free music lessons. To hell with his sighted sibling." And so they spend all their pity and condescension on fixing that.
But they don't see the cysts in his brain. They don't see his almost non-existent pituitary gland. They don't see him two years down the road when he's receiving hormone shots everyday of his life until he hits a potentially induced puberty. And frankly, next to those worries, I'm not so much worried about the fact that he can't see. That's normal for Gareth. As far as he's concerned, blindness is business as usual. Not that there won't be the occasional insensitive playground bully. Not that he won't face some discrimination. I do realize that it's going to be something he'll have to deal with. But being unhealthy isn't normal for anyone. When your body starts to rebel against what you think it ought to do, you're going to notice--regardless of whether you can see or not.
And who are we kidding? The diseases that accompany most children's blindness are what's going to cause their families the most worry financially as well. Luckily most of us are covered by some kind of state program or other. But we all know that given a sudden rise in income, or an improvement in functionality, our children could lose that coverage and then who's going to pay for that? I admit this keeps me up some nights.
But again, these are the parts of our children's conditions that people don't see. And so they don't send us news about stem-cell research regarding gland re-building, or fighting blood related or auto-immune disorders. We get access to that information through our service coordinators, doctors, etc. But for me at least, it sometimes gets irritating to have family members and friends send me stuff regarding only the blindness, wanting to fix my poor broken child who, if they really took a look, is actually a pretty normal kid overall, but who will also face some serious health challenges as he ages.
Lastly, I know these people mean well. But seriously, folks (and I'm talking more generally. Not to the people who read here. Most of you have been incredibly sensitive in real life), don't be afraid to ask me questions. Don't make assumptions.
Cross-posted.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Sex. You Know You Want It ;)
I can honestly say that there was a point in my life when I wasn't so sure I did. I was a good girl. I waited to have sex until I was married. I went into it completely blind. I had the basic mechanics figured out in my brain, but absolutely no nuance or idea about how my own body worked. My first time was awful. It hurt. I was scared. And when I asked for a break the next morning, I was guilted into giving in and having sex again. And it hurt. Again. And I was scared. Again. That set the pattern for my married sex life. He asked. I looked for excuses to avoid it. He guilted me. I gave in.
Thankfully, I finally discovered orgasms, and I learned to enjoy sex once I was guilted into it. But I can honestly say that there was only a brief period in my married sex life where I actually craved sex. And you guessed it, that was the period in which he wasn't that interested. And while we're at it, he also happened to most enjoy the sex positions that hurt me the most. Had I craved sex before I was married? Yep. You betcha. But it's funny what fear and guilt can do to a sex drive.
So when I left my ex, I really didn't expect sex to be something I'd want. I was petrified to have sex again. I was afraid of it being another control battle. Of not being able to say no without lots of pouting and accusations.
I was pleasantly surprised. It turns out, I did still have a sex drive. But what to do with it? I sure as hell wasn't going back to my ex. The thought of having sex with him still weirds me out (even though I admittedly still care for him in other ways). So for awhile, I just took matters into my own hands. And while we know this works, it's hardly ideal. But I also wasn't willing to go out and sleep with whoever. I had had such a bad experience with sex the first time around that I figured it was probably a bad idea to find some dude off the street and fuck him. Who knows what kind of psycho I might have ended up in bed with?
Fast forward to my current sexual partner (who wants to remain anonymous on the internets, so no names). Because of his wish for anonymity, I'm going to try to explain this situation without giving details about how/where we met. Suffice it to say we met in a safe social situation. I wasn't really looking for anyone at the time. So to hear him tell it, he had to work hard to get my attention. But he eventually succeeded. We started talking a lot, going out for lunch, watching movies together. And yet, I was still scared. I wanted sex, but not badly enough to have another bad experience. And I certainly didn't want to get into another committed relationship.
Did I mention we talked a lot? We did. And over the course of a few months, we talked about sex, relationships, relationships gone bad (turns out we'd both had one) and what we wanted from each other. It turns out neither of us wanted to settle down. In fact, both of us are fiercely terrified of it. He doesn't want to be in Idaho Falls forever, and I just don't want to feel tied down and owned like I did in my marriage. So we reached an agreement. No expectations. Every day we spent together would be a mutual choice. If the other one needed a break for any reason, we would know that it wasn't a comment on our adequacy. We would not involve my children.
And even still, jaded me wasn't quite ready to have sex. Even though my body was. Finally, slowly, I began to trust this guy. I knew he wasn't a permanent fixture, but I knew that for the time being, he was a sincere fixture. He wasn't going to be dishonest with me. He wasn't going to pressure me (cause he still hadn't up to this point). We were getting physical, but he was reading my signals and backing off when I wanted him to. Finally, I gave the go ahead. But not until I was ready. And you know what? It turns out that some guys will stop when you tell them to. But that's only happened a couple times ;-) Because guess what, I haven't wanted to stop. I actually enjoy sex even before I start now. I want it now. It's fun now.
So now that you know more about me than you EVER WANTED TO, let me get to my point. Marriage isn't the only way to express our sexuality. In some cases, it's not even the ideal way. Not all of us fit into the category of people who want nothing more out of life than to get married and settle down. Some of us value our independence. Some of us don't feel that a marriage certificate changes our decades long commitment. Some of us aren't interested in decades long commitments but are interested in enjoying partners for the moment and then moving on when one or the other partner's needs change, some of us may be okay with open relationships, and some of us may have different ideas about how our relationships will work. But as long as those ideas are fleshed out openly, honestly and entered into consensually, they're all viable.
And lastly, let me say this. I'm not expecting for this current relationship to end painlessly. I'm not in love with this guy. But I do care about him. He has become a very good friend. And when he goes, I'll be sad. But I know from experience now that I'll move on. That there will be other good guys and maybe eventually a good guy that I'll decide is worth keeping. In the mean time, I know now what I should be able to expect from a sexual relationship. Indeed, from a relationship period--respect and honesty.
Thankfully, I finally discovered orgasms, and I learned to enjoy sex once I was guilted into it. But I can honestly say that there was only a brief period in my married sex life where I actually craved sex. And you guessed it, that was the period in which he wasn't that interested. And while we're at it, he also happened to most enjoy the sex positions that hurt me the most. Had I craved sex before I was married? Yep. You betcha. But it's funny what fear and guilt can do to a sex drive.
So when I left my ex, I really didn't expect sex to be something I'd want. I was petrified to have sex again. I was afraid of it being another control battle. Of not being able to say no without lots of pouting and accusations.
I was pleasantly surprised. It turns out, I did still have a sex drive. But what to do with it? I sure as hell wasn't going back to my ex. The thought of having sex with him still weirds me out (even though I admittedly still care for him in other ways). So for awhile, I just took matters into my own hands. And while we know this works, it's hardly ideal. But I also wasn't willing to go out and sleep with whoever. I had had such a bad experience with sex the first time around that I figured it was probably a bad idea to find some dude off the street and fuck him. Who knows what kind of psycho I might have ended up in bed with?
Fast forward to my current sexual partner (who wants to remain anonymous on the internets, so no names). Because of his wish for anonymity, I'm going to try to explain this situation without giving details about how/where we met. Suffice it to say we met in a safe social situation. I wasn't really looking for anyone at the time. So to hear him tell it, he had to work hard to get my attention. But he eventually succeeded. We started talking a lot, going out for lunch, watching movies together. And yet, I was still scared. I wanted sex, but not badly enough to have another bad experience. And I certainly didn't want to get into another committed relationship.
Did I mention we talked a lot? We did. And over the course of a few months, we talked about sex, relationships, relationships gone bad (turns out we'd both had one) and what we wanted from each other. It turns out neither of us wanted to settle down. In fact, both of us are fiercely terrified of it. He doesn't want to be in Idaho Falls forever, and I just don't want to feel tied down and owned like I did in my marriage. So we reached an agreement. No expectations. Every day we spent together would be a mutual choice. If the other one needed a break for any reason, we would know that it wasn't a comment on our adequacy. We would not involve my children.
And even still, jaded me wasn't quite ready to have sex. Even though my body was. Finally, slowly, I began to trust this guy. I knew he wasn't a permanent fixture, but I knew that for the time being, he was a sincere fixture. He wasn't going to be dishonest with me. He wasn't going to pressure me (cause he still hadn't up to this point). We were getting physical, but he was reading my signals and backing off when I wanted him to. Finally, I gave the go ahead. But not until I was ready. And you know what? It turns out that some guys will stop when you tell them to. But that's only happened a couple times ;-) Because guess what, I haven't wanted to stop. I actually enjoy sex even before I start now. I want it now. It's fun now.
So now that you know more about me than you EVER WANTED TO, let me get to my point. Marriage isn't the only way to express our sexuality. In some cases, it's not even the ideal way. Not all of us fit into the category of people who want nothing more out of life than to get married and settle down. Some of us value our independence. Some of us don't feel that a marriage certificate changes our decades long commitment. Some of us aren't interested in decades long commitments but are interested in enjoying partners for the moment and then moving on when one or the other partner's needs change, some of us may be okay with open relationships, and some of us may have different ideas about how our relationships will work. But as long as those ideas are fleshed out openly, honestly and entered into consensually, they're all viable.
And lastly, let me say this. I'm not expecting for this current relationship to end painlessly. I'm not in love with this guy. But I do care about him. He has become a very good friend. And when he goes, I'll be sad. But I know from experience now that I'll move on. That there will be other good guys and maybe eventually a good guy that I'll decide is worth keeping. In the mean time, I know now what I should be able to expect from a sexual relationship. Indeed, from a relationship period--respect and honesty.
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