Newest 'final words' on the blog

I've started and stopped this blog many times, frustratingly proclaiming a last post, but always coming back. But this would definitely be a great post to end with, even though I know it might not be my last. Definitely something I need to work on, and the reason why a few posts I had in the works will never see the light of day.

New year, new me?

It's been a looong time since I've blogged. I kind of gave up on the arguing over parenting articles vibe and went in search of a new identity. It's been a long time coming. Longer, certainly than the September to January lull of the blog. Now, as the mother of a school-age child, now 40, everything looks different. I'm forced to confront getting old and my life maybe not becoming much of anything more than what it is and being OK with that. Some ways I'm dealing with that is grooving on the cosmos and science, studying Buddhism and mindfulness and trying to get fit again, but in new ways. So if I continue blogging, I anticipate the posts will fall into those areas.

I recently came across this article on a study showing that people rarely imagine correctly what their future selves will be like. Basically, we can look back and retell in good detail how much we've changed over the past ten years, but when asked how we expect to change in the next ten years, we don't expect to much.

In the last ten years, I've gotten married and had a child, which changed me a lot from what I saw was a kind of rambly hedonistic comfort seeker to someone striving for a purpose, if only to raise a happy, healthy child and get by in life. Gosh, typing that out, it doesn't sound like I have a purpose, exactly, now, either, except the child raising part. What a lame mess I am!

And yet, I've come to a place where I can look upon myself with a degree of compassion. I am, after all, OK. I like myself, even knowing I should lose 20 pounds, don't have enough money saved for retirement, will probably just have a middling, but pleasant and well-paying job the rest of my life (if I am lucky) and even though I am not always the best mom and wife. Why do I like myself? I guess the alternative is too sad-sack and I've at least learned at this point in my life that I can't approach others with compassion unless I am compassionate with myself.

Holiday to a deserted island

I've decided. I'm taking a holiday to a deserted island. On this island I will meditate, read books, get to know my husband and kid better and just take a break from all the bullshit. So yeah, husband and kid, not truly a deserted island, and of course, I may see friends and neighbors and such, but the idea is I am staying off Facebook and Twitter for the month of July, and starting a little early, today.

This will be a challenge. Eschewing Facebook, I won't be able to post about my many adventures, how I am taking my kid to see Brave tomorrow, how we're going to the beach, how we're going to see fireworks and it will be my kid's first time. But, I also won't get in frustrating discussions about breastfeeding vs formula, the Affordable Care Act, or having to scroll and scroll and scroll through countless inane pictures of cats and ugly babies saying trite things with poor grammar. I'll miss others' posts about timely news items, the awful state of the Supreme Court, banking systems all over the world, corrupt churches and child molesters. Since I get a lot of tips on news items from my Twitter feed, I'm staying off there, too.

I worry about not being informed, but this is only for a month (for starters) and it's summer. I'm supposed to be sipping cold drinks, vegging out poolside and enjoying long, lazy days with my family, right? Right?

I will, of course, still have to work for my clients. Gotta pay to keep the AC running, after all. But, this is a much-needed break to heal my hamster wheel brain and cleanse my sullied heart. I feel tainted by my angry, contentious thoughts when arguing points with friends, even if we keep it civil (some can't even do that). I feel like a hypocrite reading Pema Chödrön and the Dalai Lama and then pounding out points meant to take someone else's view down.

Often I listen with half an ear to a story my husband is telling me about his day or something he read or heard, while I read the latest "mommy wars" article, or learn of yet another non-fiction book I must read, or form my latest counter argument in some online debate. The other day while running our local trail, I saw a couple in their 60s strolling and it hit me—someday it's going to be just me and him again and so I better keep in touch with him. We share a physical space, responsibilities, bills, sex, but honestly, my consciousness is more often keyed into to drivel on the internet. How ridiculous is that? My focus should definitely be on my life partner who I am supposed to be in love with!

And, of course, I won't even start on how I need to pay more attention to my child because that is so obvious.

So, if you'll excuse me, my plane is now boarding!

Recapturing high times

I just got back from 12 days in Europe, a few of which were spent in Amsterdam.

A former weed enthusiast in my 20s, I was anxious to partake in some of what the city had to offer in the way of legal marijuana—and I did and it was wonderful.




Prior to Amsterdam, while I had fun on the trip, I was experiencing too much stress and annoyance from family members. They were really getting to me. As I'm sure many moms feel, being on vacation with these people was no vacation. Their unending needs were still there, only in an unfamiliar place and more difficult to fulfill. That, coupled with the nagging idea that I shouldn't always have to be catering to other people's needs and asking myself why does it have to be this way...put me in some funky moods along the way. But not in Amsterdam.

Pretty quickly after settling in to the hotel and making a falafel stop, I insisted on breaking away on my own to do what I needed to do. My husband actually put up resistance. "Why do you need to do drugs the minute you get here?" And on and on. I was thinking, you, you are the reason I need to do drugs the minute I get here—ha ha!

The way he called marijuana "drugs" was offputting to me. I view it as more of a good, strong beer, but with a mental and spiritual vibe that goes beyond a drink. We watch Breaking Bad, I've seen plenty of "drugs are so bad/addicts are so sad" movies and such and marijuana is just not the same. It's not a gateway, unless you are thinking it is a gateway to "heaven," or, to letting one see and feel life on another plane for a while and a gateway to self-discovery—if used properly. It's not physically addicting, after all, and not particularly harmful to the body. Alcohol is more harmful and by now most of us have heard potential dangers of caffeine and sugar, too, but, I digress.

Admittedly, the way I used it in my younger years was probably not the best. A near daily habit to escape the drudgery of life it should not be. One should change their life. But, it's not always so easy. Dan Savage brilliantly discusses pot use in Skipping Towards Gomorrah (the chapter on sloth). He observes how Americans work more than any other nation's people, are more productive—and smoke more pot. "...pot not only doesn't have a negative impact on the productivity of the American worker, but [it] also makes it possible for the American worker...to be as productive as we are..." He further explains, "While the workweek shrinks and vacation time grows for European workers, the amount of time Americans spend at work continues to grow...How do we work like crazy without going crazy...I think pot has a lot to do with it. It's just a hunch..." Savage cites studies that have shown marijuana interferes with the ability to judge correctly the passage of time. "In other words, pot slows stuff down—way, way down," he writes.

And indeed, I was taking notes while I was high in Amsterdam, trying to figure out how I'd recapture the good feelings I was experiencing without actually having weed at home, and I noted that I run at too high and idle and I need something to slow me down. I need help relaxing. Marijuana is a damn good shortcut.

It's not a shortcut I have regular access to at home, though, and while I could probably track some down, my husband is very much against it and reminds me it is not legal. I even explain to him I would not smoke every day. I wouldn't want to anymore at my age. There's too much to do! (Ha ha) I would like to get high maybe once a quarter. I feel like what happened in Amsterdam served as a bit of a vision quest for me. I know that's not the exact right term, as a vision quest involves deprivation and solitude in the wilderness and I was basically rambling along through a bustling city high for three days (via one carefully toked joint and 4 space cakes over time). But what I mean is that it took me out of myself for a long enough time where I was able to see things in new ways, make notes and observations about what I need "in real life" and just kind of do a re-set. I can respect my husband not wanting me to do something that is illegal and maybe risking our home and life. I think it is extremely unfortunate and wrong that marijuana is illegal, however. (Savage cites a great article by National Review's Richard Lowry in his book.) I won't say that if I had easy access I wouldn't partake, though. A little civil disobedience.

What's important now, though, is doing the work to achieve the things I learned while I was high. Yes, that's right, it does involve more work. I recently read this fascinating article in the New York Times highlighting a series of fascinating commonalities in medical conditions among humans and animals—and the section on addiction and animals "getting high" was particularly interesting. The article says:

Foraging, stalking prey, hoarding food, searching for and finding a desirable mate, and nest building are all examples of activities that greatly enhance an animal’s chances of survival and reproduction, or what biologists call fitness. Animals are rewarded with pleasurable, positive sensations for these important life-sustaining undertakings. Pleasure rewards behaviors that help us survive.

Conversely, unpleasant feelings like fear and isolation indicate to animals that they are in survival-threatening situations. Anxiety makes them careful. Fear keeps them out of harm’s way.

And one thing creates, controls and shapes these sensations, whether positive or negative: a cacophonous chemical conversation in the brains and nervous systems of animals. Time-melting opioids, reality-revving dopamine, boundary-softening oxytocin, appetite-enhancing cannabinoids and a multitude of other neurohormones reward behavior.

We humans get drug rewards for life-sustaining activities just as animals do. We simply call those activities by different names: Shopping. Accumulating wealth. Dating. House hunting. Interior decorating. Cooking.

When these behaviors have been studied in humans, they are associated with rises in the release of certain natural chemicals, including dopamine and opiates.

The key point is that behaviors are the triggers. Do something that evolution has favored, and you get a hit. Don’t do it, and you don’t get your fix.

And this is precisely why drugs can so brutally derail lives. Ingesting, inhaling or injecting intoxicants — in concentrations far higher than our bodies were designed to reward us with — overwhelms a system carefully calibrated over millions of years. These substances hijack our internal mechanisms. They remove the need for the animal to input a behavior, before receiving a chemical dose. In other words, pharmaceuticals and street drugs offer a false fast track to reward — a shortcut to the sensation that we’re doing something beneficial.

This is a critical nuance for understanding addiction. With access to external drugs, the animal isn’t required to “work” first — to forage, flee, socialize or protect. Instead, he goes straight to reward. The chemicals provide a false signal to the animal’s brain that his fitness has improved, although it has not actually changed at all.

Why go through a half-hour of awkward small talk at an office party when a martini or two can trick your brain into thinking you’ve already done some social bonding? Drugs tell users’ brains that they’ve just done an important, fitness-enhancing task.

Ultimately, however, the powerful urge to use and reuse is provided by brain biology that evolved because it maximized survival. Seen this way, we’re all born addicts. Substance addiction and behavioral addiction are linked. Their common language is in the shared neurocircuitry that rewards fitness-promoting behaviors.

Consider the most common behavioral addictions from an evolutionary perspective. Sex. Binge eating. Exercise. Working. They are exceedingly fitness enhancing.

I know that's a long portion to quote, but I thought it was really good. I like marijuana—a lot. But, I do recognize the "shortcut" aspect of a drug and it's value in careful use over habitual use that might put someone in a loop of forever "shortcutting" and never growing or fulfilling real, true "fitness enhancing."

So, I must now dig into my notes from being high and look into practices for day to day life that can help me feel the calmness, the love and peace, the sense that everything was OK, that I felt in Amsterdam. (They are probably not "Shopping. Accumulating wealth. Dating. House hunting. Interior decorating. Cooking." as that article notes and more likely sex, exercise, mediation and maybe some ritualistic grooming (?)—more on all coming soon, and I'll further explain the last one...

Still, the quarterly smoke would be nice.

Unexpected wisdom

So I mentioned in last week's post that I was reading Bloom (finding beauty in the unexpected) by Kelle Hampton and that it was helping me fall asleep (perhaps implying it was boring). I never read her blog, but I'd heard about the book and thought it would be up my alley in the sense that I like to read about how people overcome hardships. It's inspirational for me and I like to be reminded that I should be grateful for my life. See, she had a baby who was born with Down syndrome, Nella, and she was totally not ready for this. I thought the book would detail the hardships, the sorrow, the awful feelings, the difficulties.

It wasn't like that at all, though, it was mostly about joy and how she had so many friends that helped her through it, and so, yeah, it was a little boring, til somewhere along the line, about halfway through, she seemed to dig deeper into the challenging feelings she was having and it started to hit me. And I saw, too, that including so much good stuff is really necessary in her telling her story.

Sure, in the beginning, she admitted some pretty heavy feelings of disappointment that Nella was not the "perfect" baby she'd imagined, even saying she wanted to take her older, "normal" child and run away. I totally got this and didn't judge at all. I am pretty sure I would have felt the same—and worse. But the sadness in the beginning was quickly (and I mean quickly) trumped by the fact that she had a really, really strong support system of friends and family. Hampton is one of those women who is really into ceremony, pretty things, celebrations, making big, crafty, coordinated deals out of stuff—which is soooo not me and was mildly grating at first. But, in a way, it made her memoir all the more intense because of the contrast that provided when she didn't have the "perfect" baby. In the end, though, her flair and attention to beauty, and her inclusion of her baby Nella in her cutesy ways, I think was part of what helped her overcome the emotional challenges of the situation (that and her network of friends). Hampton just tried to approach life one day at a time and keep things are "normal" as possible—and Nella is absolutely adorable in the many pictures included in the book.

It wasn't the friends and the keeping things normal and the one day at a time that hit me most, though, it was her observations toward the end, after she faced thoughts of the future, realizing having an older child, or grown child with Down Syndrome would be very different from having a baby with it. She says:

The thing is, we don't really know what the future looks like. And that thought takes my breath away just as much as it calms me into a place where I am forced to enjoy this very moment.

How true are those words for anybody and everybody?

And what really got to me, and what is really lacking for me personally, is her revelation about the interconnectedness of people. She says:

I realized that day, for the first time, that finally Down syndrome meant something to me beyond my own girl. It was a part of my life, but I recognized it was a part of a lot of other people's lives too. And if it wasn't Down syndrome, it was something. I felt connected to everyone there is a way I hadn't in a long time, but I also felt guilty—ashamed that it took my own pain, my own connection to this new world to bring me here, to the larger picture...

...Since Nella was born I have contemplated my own selfishness and the need to feel comfortable in life to the point that I could write a thesis on it...challenged myself...to...open my comfort receptors to the vast degree of misfortune that exists in the world but ultimately thrusts us toward growth and understanding.

Just when you think someone is all matching jumpers, hot pink flower headbands and fluff, they go and drop serious knowledge like that on you, and you, too are so humbled. (At least I was.)

In researching for this post, I Googled "Kelle Hampton" to try to find other reactions and material on the web, and was a little surprised to find Google self-populate with terms like "Kelle Hampton hate" and "Kelle Hamtpon annoying." How can you actually hate on someone with a disabled child who is earnest and sweet and open, no matter what little personality clashes you may have with them? It seems like other people with disabled children feel they have license to hate because they're living it, too, and they resent Hampton's alleged veneer of "perfection." That's their prerogative, I guess, but it rubs me the wrong way in much the same way the Scary Mommy book in that it seems like so much bitterness and sour grapes to hate on someone who is "doing it," who is happy and having success, and totally rocking it. And make no mistake, Kelle Hampton set out to "rock it" with mothering Nella (and her older child) and she is. She worked hard putting herself out there and with fundraising for others before that baby was even a year old! She glows, her children glow and she is inspiring!

Bloom reminded me of the importance of people coming together, the importance of being open. I have a tendency to close myself in. To think I am so different from most people. To be judgmental. Even when I try to work on my spirituality for a couple of weeks, I then backslide into my old self. I shudder to think of what awful lessons and pain I might have to suffer through to internalize the lesson I obviously need to learn. I stop myself and am so grateful I have not, so far, had to suffer, and think I better take the lesson from books as I can and get more serious about an attitude change.


POSTSCRIPT:
I think if I had a child with Down syndrome, I would end up approaching it just the same way Hampton did in terms of trying to live life and "normally" as possible. Dressing the kid up cute. Doing as much as you could do NOT differently. I, too, would have trouble with support groups and I wonder if I would "succumb" as she did. I remember when I was pregnant I had what I felt was a "scare" about Downs syndrome. That she didn't test is huge, to me. I would always test, which I know says something kind of awful about me that I just don't know what else to say about. At the same time, I think that if I birthed a baby with a disability such as this, I would, too, fiercely rise to the occasion. Following is an old blog entry from that time.

From February 2007

So I’m feeling a little wacked out with what I guess are typical pregnant mom worries and just need to get it all out.

My stats: I’m 34 years old, 21 weeks pregnant with my fist child right now, will just have turned 35 when the baby is born. In my first tri, I had the nuchal fold screen for Downs, etc. done and got back very encouraging results showing a very low risk (like 1 in 6,000).

Then at the appropriate time, I got the quad screen. When my midwife called to tell me the results, she told me I was negative for NTDs and Trisomy 18, and that we didn’t need to worry about the Downs results, since I had already had the nuchal fold and those were so good. I accepted this at the time, and we discussed how the nuchal fold tests were much more reliable than the AFP/quad screen tests for Downs. But, what she did NOT tell me was that the results from the AFP were actually in for the Downs risk and they showed an increased risk of about 1 in 135 or something. I just happened to find this out yesterday when I came in for a checkup and actually looked through my chart myself.

Now, I understand that the AFPs are notorious for “false positives” and that the nuchal fold is better for detecting Downs, so I shouldn’t worry. And I understand that this is perhaps why the midwife who reported the results of my second screen reported them in the way she did…perhaps to avoid alarming me. I spoke to another midwife at the practice yesterday, and she concurred that I should not worry about the AFP results because the nuchal fold results were so good. She even said that once patients get the nuchal fold, they don’t even usually get screened again with a quad that includes Downs, but only a screen for NTDs.

But, I still am feeling a little weird about all this…I really don’t think getting an amnio is a good idea at this point, since by the time I get the results, it would be too late to do anything about them. So, I’m just trying to have a positive attitude and trust that all will be well…

I decided to go for an ultrasound as soon as possible, just to sort of assuage my fears by looking at the little organs and stuff, and since I heard that the 20-week ultrasound is standard practice in the traditional medicine. We’ll see how that goes. For now, we’re off to New York for a weekend getaway.

We are all a work in progress

I've said and done some awful things in life. Nothing criminal, really, but, I've said mean things to people I love. I've acted selfishly. I've acted violently. Some of these recently. There have been periods of better behavior. Periods of calm. I have not really given adequate focus to my spirit, though. I have not put effort or intention into cultivating lovingkindness and compassion—at all. Even with my blip last spring, it quickly fell flat.

I feel like I have come to a place, though, now, where I can take the leap. That phrase comes naturally to describe what I mean to say, and is coincidentally the title of a book I'm reading (slowly) right now. Taking the Leap: Freeing Ourselves from Old Habits and Fears is Pema Chodron's latest. It focuses on shenpa or "attachment" and helping the reader see how certain habits of mind tend to “hook” us and get us stuck in states of anger, blame, self-hatred, and addiction. The idea is that if we can recognize these patterns, they instantly begin to lose their hold on us and we can begin to change our lives for the better. She talks about how this path entails uncovering three basic human qualities—natural intelligence, natural warmth, and natural openness. "Everyone, everywhere, all over the globe, has these qualities and can call on them to help themselves and others," Pema says.

I am only at the beginning of the book (I am reading at least 3 others concurrently, but do need to focus a bit, don't I?) but boy do I need it! I have been having a lot of difficulty in my relationship with my husband lately. I have been feeling like he is very selfish and uninterested in my happiness, to summarize a whole host of painful details. I am trying to muster the spiritual and emotional strength to not be so self-centered myself, either (ironic that I am accusing him of this, while I am saying "I am not getting enough"). It is difficult because I feel wanting for nurturing myself.

I also have issues of shenpa with judging and always trying to find fault. Even in abstract things or things that don't directly affect me. Parenting, politics, whatever. Pema, in an interview with Bill Moyers, notes that there is "something delicious about finding fault, even in ourselves," and we do have to let it go to find peace. Not surprisingly, this comes from insecurity.

Pema says, "Alot of us are just running around in circles pretending that there's ground when there isn't any ground...somehow, if we could learn to not be afraid of groundlessness, not be afraid of insecurity and uncertainty, it would be calling on an inner strength that would allow us to be open and free and loving and compassionate in any situation. But as long as we keep trying to scramble to get ground under our feet and avoid this uneasy feeling of groundlessness and insecurity and uncertainty and ambiguity or paradox or any of that, then the wars will continue, the racial prejudice will continue, the hatred of [people with a different sexual preference, skin color, politics] it will always continue because you can't avoid being triggered..." The trigger she means is the shenpa.

So, I was all wrong in my recent post (and so many other things) about "avoiding situations that oblige you to be inauthentic." No, you have to embrace the discomfort. Perhaps not be inauthentic, but understand that there is no separate self and be mindful of why it is you are uncomfortable.

I think that sometimes, to some people, I come off as confident, but in reality I am actually quite insecure. I have made a life project of scrambling for ground and as I am aging, it is beginning to become quite clear that ground is shifting and that my best investment, per se, is in my spiritual wellbeing.

This may sound selfish, but my spiritual seeking has been spawned partially from a sense of wanting to be protected. I have come to a point in my life that the only way I can be content and assure my sanity is through spirituality. People will always do annoying things. Why are they annoying? It must be me. Why am I threatened? (I am finally admitting that what I feel is threatened!) I know that I will never achieve great wealth, no matter how hard I work—there have been missed opportunities, and we could save, save, save and work very hard and then suffer an economic meltdown beyond our control. My interest is, at least partially, in developing the spiritual strength to weather that, should it happen. I am an aging woman and my beauty will fade, no matter how healthy I keep myself. I need to be comfortable in who I am beyond how I look. My child may not do everything I want. She may disappoint. My husband may be cruel. My friends may abandon me. A whole host of awful things may befall me. I simply can't pin my wellbeing on things that are inherently fleeting. What's more, all this lifelong grasping for ground has left me feeling not at peace and even when I let go, just a little, and think on things in the direction of mindfulness, I begin to feel more peace. So, I think, it works!

I have to be honest with myself without being too hard on myself, though, and this will enhance my compassion toward others. And compassion toward others is certainly a much more worthy goal than protecting myself, isn't it? One may want to say "we are all works in progress," but the first thing that came when I captioned my image and got the idea for this post was "we are all a work in progress"—the singular—which is a little magic in its observance of something universal and whole, and that there is no separate self. So hard to remember, but so important.