Enough is Enough

Enough is enough. No more.

Ya know....I’ve had an American flag pin on my denim jacket for years and an American flag sticker on my office door. I’ve probably irritated more than a few people by having my American flag hanging on my porch twenty-four hours a day. It was my belief that men and women of our military service die overseas, more often than not, while I sleep safely in my bed. I vote. I have opinions of agreement and dissent. I’ve been an “American,” a nationalist, a loyalist...which DOES include dissent.

But the more I watch, the more I listen, the more I think....I’ve just had enough.

I realize that my love for this country is for the land, the wildlife, the history, the stories and legends, the music and traditions, and, for the most part, the people. I do not love this sick, practical joke that we still refer to as our “government.” I realize that my national anthem of preference is “America the Beautiful,” not the Star Spangled Banner, a song written in war and with lyrics that most people largely recite without actually understanding. The Pledge of Allegiance? “Liberty and justice for all?” Are you kidding me? Congressmen and women serve a term and are set for life...yes, including their healthcare.

I support the men and women in uniform, not the military-industrial complex that sucks money from our pockets, starts unnecessary wars, and mistreats or worse...ignores...its soldiers, sailors, and veterans. I support the unemployed (those who want and need to work), not Wall Street, corporations, and executives who spend their profits on tall buildings and huge undeserved bonuses. I support our well-meaning, creative president who could make a real difference were it not for the constipated, constipaTING idiots whose only purpose is to defeat progress in order to be reelected...and his lovely wife and family. I do NOT support the rest of the “government” with their pompous, self-righteous attitudes, their expensive tans and hairdos, and their sneaky, slimy, smarmy faces....both of them. I cannot even LOOK at Snake Boehner. I cannot believe an elected official would recite Dr. Seuss while the government faces a costly and dangerous shutdown. I don’t give a shit about special interests....and special interests run our country. People want safety and rational thinking...but the NRA has more money so the NRA wins. It’s all just nuts.

I know there are people across this land who will suffer far more than I should this freak show continue. In the mean time, we all worry, fret, toss and turn, and somehow manage to contain our rage. But, I can tell you this...should this nation go into some kind of default...should the rich, selfish, cowardly blood-suckers on Wall Street run like fools..should the market take a huge hit and my precious retirement savings drop precipitously as it has before and further delay even the slightest hope for retirement, I will wish the worst...all the harm and suffering and pain and misery...on these racist parasites we call our congress.

Others might disagree. I don’t know and I don’t care. Enough is enough. My flag has come down. I’ll find something else to hang on my porch. Maybe a Red Sox flag. Who knows. Hell...I might even stop drinking tea. I like tea. It’s just become a toxic word in my little brain.

"What Do You Do?"

A few evenings ago, while walking through our local grocery store, hoping to find something exciting and easy for dinner, I was treated to an unexpected, delightful moment that absolutely made my day. Made my day. As I passed quickly through the deli section and hurried past the wall of baked goodies, I heard a crystal clear, cheerful “HI!” from just behind me. I turned to see this gorgeous blond with a broad, genuine grin. This gorgeous blond was sitting in a grocery cart as she was probably no more than a year and a half old, going the other way, and turning to engage eyes and smiles. Now, I don’t want to sound all mushy and touchy feely about this, but in that instant, this innocent, friendly little soul made my day and lifted my spirits after a long day of diving through people’s minds and troubled psyches. 

I visit this grocery store often...I guess you’d call me a “male shopper”...I get what I need and leave, a regular denizen of the express lane or self-pay stands. I pass by folks in the aisles all the time and the great majority of my fellow shoppers offer no hellos or even turns of heads with anything resembling a smile. I had seen this woman and her child earlier and might have even heard her charming chirp at another passerby. But this grin, this face, this greeting hit me like an unexpected pleasant, cool breeze on a dull, muggy day.

I really wish there could be more such moments....with adults. Kids and dogs are far less inhibited than grownups and the world is a far better place with their chirping, smiling, singing, and barking. But, ya know, I’m generally really just fine with a minimum of superficial contact with other humans. Not so with four-legged creatures...I feel I MUST connect! But, being an “I” (introvert) on the Myers-Briggs, I find small talk to be tedious and prefer deeper, more candid interactions. Some of my public personae could fool you....musician, teacher/stand-up comic, etc....seem to contradict that I am truly a private person. I don’t talk much about myself but if asked in a genuine way, I will share my soul with you. Even a bright, shiny smile... so real and generous...is far preferred to any conversations about work or weather. 

And so, a client and I were chatting the other day...he too an “I”....and he mentioned his difficulty with the common, small-talk question, “What do you do?” What do I do. Hmmm. I will probably answer, “I’m a psychologist in private practice.” Sometimes I consider livening up the conversation with, “I sleep in a clown suit in the bathtub.” Or maybe “I eat my cereal with tequila instead of milk.” Maybe get a reaction....a look of surprise...a smile. Anything but “I’m a psychologist in private practice” which is such a small part of “what I do.” Well, it is what I do so I can do other things, but it is far from being who I AM.  

I don’t sleep in a clown suit or in the bathtub. I love milk on my cereal although my dogs get the last part...a huge sacrifice since who doesn’t love left-over cereal milk? So, I decided to consider what other possible, more honest answers I could give to the question.....

“So....what do you do?”

“Whenever possible, I will put an insect...beetle, moth, fly, ant...even a mosquito...out of the house rather than kill it.”

“I heat my coffee in the microwave even if it has just been brewed.”

“I take off my socks as soon as I can.”

“I watch repeats of House, Friends, The Closer, Frazier, and The Mentalist even though I’ve seen them all multiple times.”

“I always eat sensibly except when I don’t.”

“I did once shoot a man in Reno just to watch him die.”

“I sometimes think about my adopted chimp, Jeff.”

“My golden, Shamus, died in his sleep as I slept. So, now, I tell both Nora and Rusty each night that I’ll always love them.”

“I eat scallops whenever I can.”

“I make gravy out of canned food for my dogs’ kibble.”

“Having spent three years involved with a long-distance, compulsive liar, I always tell the truth.” 

“I have been known to flat foot and sing harmonies in my kitchen while playing bluegrass music.” 

“I now wear 34 waist Levi’s. Wore 38’s in high school.”

“I swear far more in the car than anywhere else.”

“I wear my gun outside my pants for all the honest world to feel.”

“I get a pedicure now and then. No nail polish but massage feels good.”

“I make better Italian dishes than anyplace I’ve eaten in Maine.”

“I wear my dog Shamus’s tag around my neck most every day.”

“I play Alice’s Restaurant on my guitar but don’t remember the words.”

“I sometimes drink milk with spaghetti and marinara sauce.”

“I write in my dumb blog sometimes....not often.”

Terrorism

Well...what a harrowing and frightening week we’ve been through, huh? As these marathon tragedies have resulted in a marathon of news coverage, it’s hard to believe that this most recent crisis all began only a week ago tomorrow. And it seems that these traumatic events and the need for individuals, communities, and our nation to “heal” seems to be now a regular part of our morning news and dog park conversations. 

Children being killed, innocent bystanders losing their lives and limbs, our president attending memorial services....now occurring on a frighteningly regular basis. Every time I hear our local news begin a segment with solemn music or a “special edition of the Today Show,” I wonder, “What now?” Even here in Maine with my (hopefully) safe distance from the horrors that touch so many lives, it seems we all walk through our days carrying certain, omni-present levels of anger, sadness, and fear.

I lived through the transition of the simplicity and sanity of the late 50’s into the chaotic drama and upheaval of the mid to late 60’s. The only fears I knew as a small child arose from the weekly weekend rehearsals of air raid sirens and the Cuban missile crisis. Then came the Kennedy assassination, Bobby and MLK, Kent State, and Nam. Our country could no longer sustain its innocence as Elvis and the Beach Boys gave way to music laced with tension and rebellion. 

I think we’re now going through another such evolution in the way we think, believe, and behave. Even in the late 60’s, we could still believe that we were ultimately the stronger country and that our police, military, and missiles would protect us from the rest of the world. Now, it seems we are not in control of our safety or even ourselves. A psychiatrist I knew years ago defined the mental health system as “deviance control.” Well, it now feels like the world can longer control its deviance. Instead, the deviance seems to be controlling us. 

But I’m really not here today to talk about these acts of senseless violence. These losses of life and limb caused by violent maniacs burn through all our psyches while leaving permanent, painful scars to those more closely touched. No, I’m here to identify this country’s true terrorists whose actions directly affect far more of our citizens than those of a couple of narcissistic, selfish, spoiled, homicidal twits from Chechnya. 

These domestic terrorists would be....

Congress: Speaking of narcissistic and selfish, as congressional Republicans have forced the so-called “sequester,” they have compromised funding that provides invaluable health care services to women, child-care, programs that protect families from domestic violence, and policies that simply offer an opportunity for a sense of well-being among many of our citizens. Who knows how many lives will be affected and how many deaths will result because of this blind, obstructionist arrogance. 

Congress (again): What do you think is the most important goal of your average politician? You guessed it....reelection. That’s right. I just can’t think of any other possible reason...rational or otherwise...to explain how anyone in a position of power to make a true difference in our society could not see the need for some form of background checks for gun purchasers. When I moved to Maine roughly twelve years ago, I had to first qualify and then wait months to sit for an oral exam allowing me to practice psychology in the state....this after practicing for nearly twenty years an hour and a half away in Massachusetts. Tell me why oh why can we not require someone to prove he’s not nuts or has a violent past before owning a deadly weapon. Assault rifles? Automatic weapons? Tell me how many casualties will result as a result of this pursuit of....reelection. As these (mostly) Republican parasites eventually...and hopefully soon...leave office to a life of luxury and the relative luxury of retirement with their rich buddies, they will leave in their wake pain and suffering impossible to measure or anticipate.

The insurance industry: Check out the names atop some of this nation’s largest and tallest buildings....yes, they would be insurance companies. That is because the word “insurance” is actually a misnomer. You see, they don’t actually expect to pay for anything they promise to cover. Have a car accident? They will pay for the repairs and then charge you more. Get sick? Oops....pre-existing condition. Not covered. Not necessary. And, with Obama’s programs to correct these unfair practices, the buddies of these fat cats (Republicans...again) devote their lives to protecting not us but the deep pockets of the fat cats and their own tight pants. Just check the corporate profits as each year they request and are granted rate increases.

The pharmaceutical industry: You’ll have to tell me how a single pill can cost hundreds of dollars. Tell me how pills become less expensive when they loose their patent protections and become more expensive as people get sicker and older. Then we’ll talk.

The oil industry: Remember when, if oil prices rose, we were given weak excuses such as a refinery closed or an increase in cartel prices? Ever notice that now we rarely hear even those weak excuses? While staying at a bed and breakfast a few years ago, I met an oil executive from New Jersey over breakfast. He admitted to me that, more often than not, there was no real reason for the increases in gas prices. Rather, it was just the industry’s way of establishing higher and higher standard as people became used to higher prices. Then there is the outrageous price of heating oil resulting in families in colder climates (such as here in Maine) having to go without fuel to warm their homes. The oil industry, with help from our rich, oil-loving, war-starting politicians, rapes this country on a regular basis and no one blinks an eye. 

Government-sanctioned terrorism results in far more pain, suffering, and death than all of that caused by foreign initiated acts of terrorism. And most of these terrorists wear suits and drive a Lexus. And, yes....get reelected. 

Perspective...

Gee....I notice that it’s been quite a while since posting a whine or even a pseudo-serious expression of sentimentality and reflection. When I look back over the last several months, it occurs to me that life hasn’t felt particularly funny. With a backdrop of managing life through bothersome physical ailments and recurring worries about the repercussions of both life and death, there have been losses of various sizes that tend to give perspective on that backdrop....that life is as it is and that all that weighs on me is nothing more than the consequence of the gift of my life itself. It’s that whole yin-yang thing. I can only write my whine because I am alive...and having just enjoyed a hot breakfast of eggs which I can share with my wonderful dogs.

Oh, there’s always money stuff, things to do, piles to sort, attic and garage to purge, cold weather fatigue, etc. etc. More importantly are worries about my dogs’ health, expensive house projects on the horizon, and the annoyances of short-term relationships that end with the disappointing revelations that some people just aren’t who they claim to be. There is the end of a long-standing connection with a professional organization that has proven to be nothing more than an internet date with someone who posted ten year-old photos. It’s the whole illusion thing I wrote about earlier ...there one moment, gone the next. These endings can be dealt with my slowly and painfully letting go. 

But life does stand still when I experience the deaths of two friends in just over a week’s time. Both of these passings were pretty much expected but, as you know, they still always come as a shock. These humans, with whom I talked and laughed and walked and ate and felt! have disappeared from the face of the earth. It always seems so surreal. When my father died, I could only get an evening flight, so I went to work at Salem Hospital as usual. My boss said “What are you doing here?!?” I just said “Where else should I be?” When she asked how I was doing, the first thought that came to mind was, “I keep wondering where he is.” That feeling after someone you know dies is, for me, the most revealing evidence that there has to be something after life. There is an essence that cannot possibly die with the body. I know it. To best understand what I mean, find and read Wordsworth’s “Ode on Intimations of Immortality.” While I am a Christian, this poem best captures my beliefs about life and death. 

I do ramble and digress. All I can say is that...and this could sound trite...losing these friends does make my life and it’s travails of various sizes seem unimportant and minor compared to what these friends went through on their journeys to another land and what their closer loved ones must endure with even bigger, gaping holes in their lives. And I can say that I do and will miss them both.

In short....Sandy....a dog-owner and walking friend. We told stories, we laughed at our dogs, we played tennis, we shared dinner, we talked life. I walked with him a few short months ago before his health began to decline. He was a smart, caring, interesting man and I know that many stories about Sandy and his life will live on with his family and friends. And just last week, the world lost Jeanne...my old friend Anne’s partner of over 24 years. Denied the opportunity for so many years, they had planned to marry later this year. Jeanne knitted me a scarf and an afghan. On my several visits to their beautiful home in North Carolina, Anne and Jeanne treated me like family. I loved Jeanne’s cynical, sardonic wit...much like my own. I remember lying on their floor snipping hair knots from one of their cats’ fur. I remember Jeanne leaving after dinner to get a McDonald’s coffee because “it’s just better.” (Having a cigarette, Jeanne? We’ll never know!)

Let’s just face it. With all the fluffy, reassuring verbiage, it’s just awful. It’s terrible. I walk through my day right now knowing they’re gone. As with the losses of my parents and all my wonderful dogs, there’s a hole in the universe without them. My life...getting to work, walking my dogs, cleaning my kitchen, making my risotto, ironing my sheets (NOT!)...I get to do these things and they don’t. I’m sorry, Sandy and Jeanne, I truly am. Deeply. But know that we loved you and you made an impact on people and the world that will not be forgotten.

Now...I have to go deal with finding socks to match my sweater. Oh my oh my. 

Love and Storms

It seems that the Weather Channel will now be naming winter storms. Nice "get", WC...finding an unnecessary solution to a non-existent problem simply to get your little channel a little more attention. I will tell you, WC, that here in Maine, at least, you might need more than 26 names just to get through January. May I suggest Rusty and Nora....

I like storms...even winter ones. There is something exciting about tuning into the storm watch on TV and wondering how many inches will fall, how strong the winds will be, which pottery classes will be cancelled. Conan O'Brien joked that he's excited that he might hear, "Conan is expected to bring eight inches."

Winter storms do bring costs....the oil, the snow plow guy, the extra cheese curls I must buy to get through the power outages. And there's the shoveling all winter as the piles of snow get higher and higher simply to find a path so that Nora can get through and accomplish her missions. But the rush of wind, the first few ominous flurries, the hunkering down...basically just a part of winter in Maine and life as we know it. Although I complain sometimes, I know it's a part of why I live here. Like I said, I love storms...

Growing up in D.C., there would only occasionally be winter storm warnings. As kids, we would get excited with the possibilities of school cancellations, snow men, snowball fights, and coming back into the house, encrusted with snow, so that Mom could dismantle our frozen gear and give us a little warm lunch. But, most of the time, these storms would peter out or arrive as just a steady, cold rain. Yuck.
Disappointing. No fun. Not so here where I live now....if a Nor'easter is coming, it's a'coming.

The other part of winter storms I enjoy is when the storm passes and the sun makes a reappearance, producing a sparking, bright day, light reflecting off the new snow....my dogs bouncing and rolling around in fresh, fluffy drifts. Life goes on here after a storm...the streets and even the sidewalks are plowed, the snow is removed from Maine Street in dump trucks...and life goes on. We are then left with a sparkling reminder of where we live and, maybe, far more cheese curls than we ever really needed.

I think that storms are supposed to be just that....storms. The disappointment lies in when they don't measure up as promised...not measuring up to expectations...and not in the minor hardships they bring. We can weather a storm...the cold, the power outages, the shoveling...because it's what we want and it's what we are prepared for. But when Storm Lara or Storm Nancy produce only rain or slush or just a few insignificant inches, we might not admit it, but we know that we'll have to wait for the next storm to have any real, lasting fun.

I think that storms match and evoke the storms...the energies...inside me...inside us. Longing, desire, passion, enthusiasm...just wishing for a little external energy that will bring us alive...to our attention... to our feet. Life passes by too quickly and sometimes, without a reason to care, we begin to stop caring. Ya know?

Today, we just have overcast skies, a little drizzle, and unseasonably mild temperatures. Sigh. A lull between the drama of summer thunder storms and the energy of snow storms likely to arrive in just a couple short months. There is no excitement to this. Waiting....watching...hoping...that the wind will still pick up.

I know that others are out there looking out the window as well...feeling blah, feeling bored, even feeling lonely, just waiting for a little excitement and a good ol' lasting storm that will pull them to their feet for the wind, the snow, and the brilliant, crispy days that follow. And then, those disappointments from past, wimpy, disappointing wash-outs will disappear as merely a contrast to what can truly happen when nature's way...nature's energy...does its thing.

FBriends

Never before....not until the advent of Facebook....have people paid such attention to the numbers of friends they had. It amazes me sometimes to see that some of my Facebook friends number in the hundreds. HUNDREDS! Imagine the surprise birthday party! And the cardiac arrest from hearing "SURPRISE" from 586 people! And the cost of cake! And onion dip!

Well, these couldn't be all truly friends, right? Bragging rights maybe? I recently had ninety eight friends. Now I have ninety five. Yep...I decided to "unfriend" these...um...friends. Crazy, isn't it?
But I didn't do this dastardly deed without long consideration...and even marginal regret. Instead, I figured out that my Facebook friends fall into several categories...all having value to me in one way or another. And my choice to "unfriend" someone would be the result of that person not being true to his/her category. It really doesn't take much....

Friends who have been friends for years and with whom I would have contact regardless of Facebook.

Friends who I knew long ago...in whose life experiences, photos, etc. I have genuine interest, regardless of how often we actually communicate.

Friends who began as colleagues and became friends...a number of late night drinks at the hotel bar will do that sometimes. I am grateful for having them as friends.

Friends who are colleagues as well...with whom I developed really nice connections with, did favors for, and enjoyed relaxing times...and expected our connections to continue after the favors and relaxing times couldn't be continued. Just gave up two of these.

Friends who are colleagues whom I barely know...but share a common interest and professional network.

Friends who also have dogs!....what else do I need to say?

Friends who I actually met online....as in dating online...and made a connection other than that originally intended. Good people....makes me so happy that a couple have found true happiness.
Just gave up one of these.

I even have Facebook friends who are really not even on Facebook....they have no photo, just that creepy outline of a head. Do I wait? Do I run? Do I sit and look at the creepy head?

Like I said, I think all this is okay...legitimate friendships since Facebook as redefined "friend." And I will never ask my Facebook friends if they want to stay my friend or not, otherwise I will delete them. That is up to me...and if it's up to them, I assume they'll leave...or have left...anyway. Are you still there? Hey...wanna be friends?

The Illusionist

In a favorite episode of the wonderful sitcom "The Office," Michael Scott arrived at work wearing a silly fake mustache to cover a cold sore on his upper lip. Believing he now had herpes "duplex," as he called it, he felt it necessary to contact his recent, former lovers to let them know that they may have contracted the disease during their brief, ill-fated encounters. Through this process of revisiting his heart-breaking past, he discovered that none of these women had considered their relationships with Michael to have been of any real significance. It was the sentimental, narcissistic Michael who had magnified relatively brief attachments into magical ones that resulted in, for him anyway, tragic endings. While he had reminisced mournfully, these women had all moved on and had filed Michael away as merely a passing fancy.

As I will often tell my clients, I consider relationships to be nothing more than illusions. Sure.... relationships are many things. They're exciting, passionate, comforting, dramatic...even costly. But there is no actual "thing" that lies between them, only the manifestations of needs, wants, projections, shared memories and a biological need to find a mate for procreation. (see Helen Fisher's "Why We Love") This is not to diminish the power or impact of the connections we make. Nor do I suggest that relationships are not living, breathing organisms in themselves that must be fed and nurtured. It is only to say that, were relationships "real", then they would be viewed, valued and preserved as the same by two people from totally different histories and orientations. And they rarely are.

Remember the movie, "The Fly"? Well, some of us will remember that there were two versions, although I much prefer the earlier, 1950's cheesy one. Vincent Price has invented a machine that would transport himself to another machine. This is pre-Star Trek thinking, so it was a really cool idea. But oops...Vincent allowed a common house fly to enter the first machine and, when transported, we saw the body of a man with the huge head and...well, hands...of a fly. Ugly indeed...but manageable. It never was clear why this homely fly man would suddenly become violent as well. I'm guessing the fly had issues...poor thing...but it wouldn't have been a horror movie without some perfectly healthy victim being chased down by a...you guessed it....slow, plodding creature.

The second version gave us Jeff Goldblum...whom I find to be creepy anyway...suffering the same fate (probably not the same fly), but the creature that emerged was, with improved special effects, far nastier...more horrific...with lots of drool and humps and all that fly hair. Sad really. We could feel for the fly-man...man-fly.

Well, imagine the early stages of a relationship to be the first version. Rather than two people emerging as a loving, harmonious, HUMAN couple, we find a clear problem. It is possible that two people could walk away and retain their original form (the fly hopes so) or simply move on and chalk the experience up to a misguided flight (get it?) of fancy. Then, imagine relationships well into development to be the second version. All kinds of parts, DNA, pointy bristles and human things woefully woven together in such a way that extraction will be most painful or impossible.

With actual relationships, if there is an ugly monster to run or shield oneself from, it might not appear initially. Those needs and wants and projections can hide the evidence that this might be a mistake in the making. We see what we want to see, feel what we want to feel. And, meanwhile, the buzzing grows louder and more difficult to ignore as two people yearn to return to the fantasy of...the illusion of early perfection.

And so....two people meet. They pass the first "test"....acceptable appearances, they both like Fleetwood Mac and, hey...they both enjoy kayaking and long walks on the beach. Great...they begin. It turns out, however, that he (pronouns interchangeable) sees her as a potential life partner and starts thinking about a life together with romantic evenings of wine, fireplaces and, well, lots of Stevie Nicks. She, on the other hand, is merely seeking a temporary dalliance. She passes the time with long chats, flirtations, Stevie, and even sex, but really wants only to get it on and then...move on....never willing to sacrifice the illusions of freedom and something better down the road. He, ultimately, will not escape the underlying differences in agenda, and some horrific, fly-bite-night (heehee) ending.

Ah...but these are the risks we face in finding an illusion...a projection...that actually works. It happens. I even know people that, both honest and forthcoming, both true to their words and desires, work. I even admire these folks because I know there were a few flies in their ointments along the way. And those who are not what they seem...wanting only to seem like someone as opposed to being someone... will only find how elusive illusions truly are.

I have had a number of flies in my little cubicle...and the end result of those sci-fi blendings of lives have even worked out pretty well. A few tentacles here, a few bristles there...but all workable (shave-able?) We can learn from a them at the very least. One person of significance, with a propensity for lying, taught me to be honest. Another with the temper of an angry child taught me to be more patient.
And they both taught me to run clear of anyone who lies or has a temper. And, from both of these lasting illusions...these inadvertent flies, I escaped with my humanness in tact.

If only we could find some way of recognizing the realities behind these illusions while maintaining just a few for shear enjoyment, and work until we might actually have something. Otherwise, once the illusion is discovered for what it really is, the disappointment will only sting and linger...until it is repaired or until the next one.