Kindness

I wish I could say I was the epitome of kindness. I wish I was the one who does things automatically because I’m a good person not because I’m a peacemaker or passive. Truth be told, my actions all have selfish motivations. I want tranquility. It’s as simple as that. I will do anything to get it. OM’s article below explains how much more smoothly life would go if we all operated at a certain level of kindness. But we also see what we want to see. If I’m angry & frustrated, I see anger and frustration around me. Regardless, it”s certainly goal worthy to re-evaluate our motives and practices to reflect the right and honorable thing, not just what makes us feel better.

Re- printed with permission from the Daily OM

Kindness expands the light within us and reaches out to touch the light in others as well

Kindness

Kindness is an ideal that is easily accessible to all of us. We all know that a small kindness can make our journeys lighter and more enjoyable. Even bringing an instance of kindness to mind can put a smile on your face days or weeks later or perhaps even inspire you to share kindness with another. Though it may seem simple to the point of insignificance, many cultures throughout the world and history have recognized kindness as a powerful virtue. It may be the simplest way to experience and share all the grandest ideals of humanity. We can make the choice to act from the best place within ourselves at any time, while simultaneously recognizing the highest potential in another with the smallest of acts, nourishing the seed of hope in each soul we encounter. 

In a way, kindness acts as the oil that makes the engine of our world move more smoothly and with less friction. We can still get where we are going but the ride is more pleasant, and those around us can share in the ideal world that we help to create. We are all fortunate that kindness is limitless in its supply and available to everyone. When we act in ways that confirm our ideals, we make the ideal our reality. Then, instead of affirming the experience of struggle and competition, we can shift our experience to the reality of ease and pleasurable camaraderie with the fellow citizens of the world. 

Whether giving way to someone in traffic or letting someone go ahead of us in line, donating money or sharing our resources in a crisis, we actively create a universe of kindness and giving with every choice we make. The smallest gesture can bring a smile to light the shadow of an unpleasant situation or remove tension from a difficult task, but it’s effects can echo and extend far beyond the moment. We can be sure that we will receive a kindness in return, but giving is its own reward. Kindness expands the light within us and reaches out to touch the light in others as well, giving us all a glimpse of the glow that has the power to enlighten our world. 


Excerpt From 1000 Last Goodbyes

Messenger Goodbye

On August 20, 2019, this book was born. As I sat alone in my little condo wondering about and fearing for my son’s safety, I wrote from the depths of my heart and from my pain as I felt it. And so my story begins in what I thought would be a short lesson on inconvenience. I was about to find out, in real-time, how daunting a path lay ahead of us all.

“I don’t know if my son is alive tonight. It’s a Friday night. He lives 400 miles away from me. I haven’t heard from him all day after not seeing him online for sixteen hours. I know most people don’t keep track of their grown children for days or maybe even weeks, so why do I? Because with substance use, worry is raised to a whole new level because of the risk factors involved. Every moment, every action could be life-altering. Any minute, like hundreds of other moms, I could receive “THE CALL.” This self-torture is grueling day after day and even year after year, for some families. I know the question of why don’t I just call him? Well, I could. After all, I just ordered him a new phone from Walmart’s pickup service a few weeks ago because his previous one broke. That’s three phones in three months, but that’s a different story that only moms of addiction know.

I don’t call him because, frankly, he probably won’t answer. Worse, the call may go straight to voicemail, meaning the phone is not charged. Then do you know what I’ll do? My resolve that I’ve held onto all day will break and I will lose my mind. Again. I will immediately burst into tears. Then I will check the booking reports for his county to see if he was picked up on one or two current warrants. If I do see him on there, it will ignite the cycle of tears and the fear for his life that I have endured for months.

He has been in the legal system since early this year, 2019. He was pulled over by the drug and task force for reasons he told me developed after he was trying to help a girl whose boyfriend was not treating her well. He said he saved her life. (The ‘boyfriend’ is now serving years for federal drug trafficking.) That’s all I know. I’ve learned that it’s better for me if I don’t get the details. The lifestyle, with all its risk-taking, is foreign to me. I still can’t fully admit that my ambitious and successful son, the hero in the family, the guy everyone could count on, is labeled by society as an addict and now a criminal.

But back to tonight. If Mason actually is in the booking report (which I sadly have bookmarked on my home screen), at least he’s safe, right? As a professional nurse, I know the risks to his health if he’s living on the street, so jail may be the safer option. However, I also know how overcrowded jails are. Many are understaffed. It must be annoying as heck, for guards to hear countless inmates say they are sick and dying from withdrawals. Until one does. Then they must cover their behinds to make sure they weren’t negligent. That is just one of my worst fears these days and I have a lot of them.

The absolute worst fear, and the main reason I cannot call, is what happens when I can’t reach him. I wait and pray and cry and call again—sometimes twenty times—just begging God to make him answer. I send text after text to please be okay because I just cannot bear to have him gone. The thought of it is too painful to bear. Losing a child is tragic enough, but losing a child over and over in your mind is torture also. This ambiguous grief is emotionally exhausting. It’s like a roller coaster whose operator went home and you can’t get off. Should you jump? Just when you see a green grassy spot to land on; up, up, up you go; the anticipation builds to a pleasant crescendo of peace; a feeling that maybe just maybe, this is all a dream and you can go back to your regular life stressors. Alas, the rattly steel and sparks fly off the track and you are tossed and turned as your stomach drops again. This ride is a sure recipe for emotional upheaval. If only you would have been given the deets to all of it when you walked into the park of parenthood.

Sooner or later, the green light of life on messenger will magically appear again. It might be a few days before he reads my many messages and even longer before he replies, but at least I know he’s alive because I can see that he has seen my words. The relief floods through me, and suddenly I can actually get on with my day and maybe smile or laugh at a joke someone tells. Seeing him alive online means that maybe I was overreacting. Seeing him alive online there’s more time to save him.

This scenario has played out over and over since December 2018. Maybe I should have learned to not cry wolf, but any parent, child, sibling, or spouse of a person struggling with addiction understands. We are conditioned to think the worst, especially after reading or hearing about one more (famous or not) overdose death.

I soon found the previously unknown world of support groups for moms of those addicted! There are thousands of members. The similarities across the stories are shocking and heartbreaking. Some may wonder what these mothers did wrong. What kind of childhood did they provide? Many will say, “My child had a solid childhood with both parents, safety, nutrition, education, sports, music, play dates, a trampoline, a wooden play set, a dog, etc.” On the other end of the spectrum, parents will admit to broken homes with generations of addicts and some parents went through addiction themselves. It doesn’t matter the background. What matters is the current, daily pain and damage, the churning chaos and disappointment that addiction creates for everyone involved with the person who fights a substance use disorder.

The stigma of addiction is still rampant, as those who have zero experience think it’s just a matter of poor upbringing, weak character, or lack of discipline to “just quit.” The irony amazes me. If people could “just quit” anything, then no one would be obese. Or anorexic. Or dishonest. Or promiscuous. Or obsessed with his/her smartphone. If people could “just quit” there may be no casinos because people would realize their odds. If people could just quit, no one would be murdered because people would understand the consequences. There is no “one reason fits all” explanation.

I believe that those addicted are a unique brand. If you can think of the weakest, most pathetic person you know who is not addicted to drugs, imagine him having a horrible flu, a rumbling stomach-churning garbage out both ends, a spinning head ready to explode, blurred vision, hallucinations, hot flashes followed by freezing, sweating then shivering, and so on. Now imagine him driving, or even walking, miles to find a “doctor.” Your loved one is then told there’s a one-hundred-dollar cash fee and a five-hour wait to be seen. Would he have the strength or fortitude to do it? You may say that would be stupid to do that.

What if the problem is not stupidity? What if it’s actual strength? What if it’s fortitude, persistence, or loyalty (even if it is to an evil substance)? What if it’s actual, raw, will-to-survive strength? How many weak people do you know who couldn’t survive one day of that misery? There are worse things than being a drug addict, but a lot of those things aren’t as blatant. In other words, people with substance use disorder aren’t inherently bad people just because they couldn’t stop at a few beers or they chose a different stress reliever than current laws allow. In fact, Jeff Cloud stated about people society shuns:

They don’t realize that the people they are restricting access to society are those who are:

  • Creatives – willing to find ways to live outside of the box, those who get inspired by challenges to find their own solutions.

  • Rebels – who have been misfits many times in the past so they are immune to being excluded.

  • The Wild Ones – with deep connection and reverence to the land, who know nature has everything they need.

  • Old Souls – who have seen this all before and have been persecuted over lifetimes for doing things differently.

  • Optimists – with an inner knowing of what really matters who can adapt their perspective to see the blessings that difficulties can bring.

  • The Stubborn Ones – who will not bend to coercion no matter how tight you squeeze, who will find ways to adapt to obstacles before going against their truth.

I would never justify chaotic substance abuse, and I will never wish the pain of addiction on anyone. I’m just saying that it takes a combination of strength, personality, bad luck, timing, and a set of circumstances to create a full-blown problem. It also is a problem that can be ‘fixed’ (in my opinion). At least someone on drugs has an excuse for being a jerk. I know guys whose personalities will never be fixed and they are as sober as the morning rooster. As Sam Snodgrass writes in his article “Opioid Addiction and the Myth of Powerlessness,” “We’re not narcissistic hedonists. When we hurt the ones we love, we hurt too. And what is sad is that we don’t understand why we do the things we do … We don’t understand because no one has explained to us that the changes within the brain at a cellular, molecular level, what we call opioid addiction, is an acquired disease of brain structure and, thus, function, which is manifest not as compulsive drug seeking and use but, rather as behavior directed towards the survival of the individual.”

Back to the topic of raising perfect children who would never do anything to ruin their lives. Frankly, I thought my family was in the clear. All five kids came from the same dad. We raised them in the open country, surrounded by mountains, rivers, and trees, with lots of room to explore and play and develop self-confidence, pride, and curiosity. There, they could imagine for themselves lives beyond their wildest dreams. We provided sports out the wazoo in hopes of keeping them busy as far into their teenage years as possible. I repeatedly told them of my brother’s death by suicide after he was involved with drugs in 1981 and said so many times, “Addiction runs in the family, so make sure you watch that.” Other than the devastating effect my brother’s death had on me for decades to come, the only other “substance issue” experience I had was my paternal grandpa being an alcoholic. I warned my kids. That was enough, right? They could just ‘choose’ moderation in all things, or better yet, abstain. Case closed. Right?…

Congruency

Why there are ALWAYS. Three sides to every story.

We all know that addiction brings out the huge parking lot of pain, disappointment, agony, despair, sadness, violence, and misery. Some of this chaos is self-inflicted for many reasons. This chaos is projected onto everyone who gets in its path. Some people pull into the parking lot unknowing of what is coming. But everyone brings their own personality traits into the parking lot.

Of course, we are going to hear about all the tragedies of drug use. From criminal behavior to divorces to bankruptcy, it would appear that addiction is its own snake-filled evil entity all in itself. But as Gabor Mate, Johann Hari, and many others leading the way in addiction research and dissection; there are reasons and causes for this behavior.

Doesn’t matter, some would say. A crime is a crime. A lie is a lie. But in the context of BEING HELPFUL and MAKING A DENT in this epidemic, What is going to be helpful to stop all this pain and suffering? I can tell you 1000% percent “if only they would stop” is NOT A COMPLETE SENTENCE. There are many other problems that have to be solved other than the drugs, by the addicted one AND by others around them.

Unfortunately, many personality types are unwilling to budge their “warring heart” or learn new skills or “ways of being”. (Both from Anatomy of Peace)

My heart hurts for all who are affected by addiction. But today I am saddened for the absolute cruelty thrown at addicts, by using their darkest moments against them continuously and denying them access to their children- in the name of virtuous parenting. When in fact, seeing their kids and starting the bonding process again could be the very thing that keeps them from relapse. True that it could “lead the kids on” & cause damage if a relapse occurs, but it also could be the very last time a child sees their parent.

Demanding expensive hair follicle tests and repeated urine tests just for an hour supervised visit only increases tension and conflict on already stressed relationships. Life is so short and these windows of opportunities are so few and far between.

This kind of unnecessary cruelty hits deep into a person’s soul contributing to the shame and discouragement of having something to look forward to and live for; thereby pushing people deeper into the depths of addiction.

In these convoluted situations, I think it’s helpful to keep in mind that there are always 2 perspectives and one version of the mixed truth. Everyone thinks they have such clarity as to what needs to happen.

Regardless of whichever version of a certain dynamic is the truth, many studies show that inflicting more pain on an addictive brain causes more addictive behaviors.

In all of time, there are people who inflict pain on others separate from having any addiction. It’s true that those under the influence can become unruly, violent, abusive and very enrollment dysregulated. They lie to keep their addiction going. They get defensive and manipulative to cover up their use. Their behaviors make sense to them, but seem completely off the wall to others.

So there are both sides of the equation at work. There are people who are addicted and not addicted who:

  • Love to call others liars while spewing hate.
  • Preach moral virtue while insisting others beg and grovel for forgiveness
  • Proudly claim to be the best friend, sibling, child, yet never sending cards, well wishes or words of encouragement to others.
  • Brag about their stellar communication skills while ignoring others’ pleas for help or their deepest thoughts and feelings.
  • Make unreasonable demands that are not easily met
  • Then they wonder why after the 💯th time, you aren’t jumping to comply
  • Now they have “proof” of how horrible you are
  • No matter how many times you say sorry, they will swear on a stack of Bibles that you never say sorry
  • Complain about never being included, but plays victim martyr with every invitation
  • Wonders why everyone else’s behavior is “inconsistent” or non- supportive, yet their behavior is inconsistent and their support is non-existent.
  • Accuses you of ridiculous things that are actually of no concern to them, but it’s a way to get info in order to use as back up ammo to prove either that you lied, or that you shouldn’t have done that or you don’t deserve to have that.
  • Confusing the boundaries, rules, expectations, so that your self confidence and outlook on life is skewed or depressed in order to get you to act in confused or depressed ways so they can then justify what an idiot human being you are.

So, the next time you hear that “there’s no excuse for addiction” or for their kids not being enough to get them to stop, or that the worst thing in the world is addiction; please remember that there are always 2 sides to the story and a third side which is a version of the truth. Addiction is curable. Other traits-are with us for a lifetime unless WE take initiative to improve.

Being kind is its own superpower. 

Against A Crooked Sky

As I drove through the windy canyon, the familiar rolling hills of my hometown gave way to the rows of turkey coops dotting the fields. The wide open blue country sky was a welcome reprieve from the city. Years ago, raising turkeys was the main livelihood for the country farmers. As a child, I would help my dad drive the trucks between the feeders to fill them up with grain. That shy little blonde girl roaming the countryside, looking for another adventure; seems like a million eons ago.

I had been making this trip more and more recently. To see my boys, all three of them- in the same town together! Finally, after many years of living in different parts of the state, they end up just 2 houses apart. Jobs, families, and that creep- addiction had separated our family and torn it to shreds. But the last 3 months were a true miracle. My eldest son had done a complete 180 and turned his life completely around. It took a brush with death- a new scary heart diagnosis, but it still was his choice.

His new mindset was completely focused on becoming legal again, resolving his court cases, trying to reunite with his kids, and forging a new career where he could meet all his financial obligations. Well, that and surviving heart disease too.

Most of those went smoothly but not effortlessly, although he has a way of making it seem so.

My goal and purpose with this trip and others was to enjoy every second I had with him and my other kids.

I wish I could capture the feeling of opening up Facebook and seeing my son doing life. Eating out, going to the lake, kayaking, riding ATVs. Things they had done together 4 years ago, now seemed like nothing had ever come between them.

I wish I could take this feeling of relief and gently hand it to every hurting Mom. I wish I could share my splintered heart whose gaps are being filled up with small mementos of my much-awaited hope.

Hope that I spent years clinging to. Yearning. Aching for moments that I have now. Along with it comes tinges of guilt. For those who are still suffering.

Maybe it's a bit like survivors guilt.

I vividly remember the anguish. The sleepless nights. I see certain pictures and it all comes back. The endless worry and feelings of powerlessness. The minute to minute panic of the perpetual other shoe dropping. I felt like I was running, running against the crooked sky.

Now I finally see the rainbow. The light at the end of the tunnel. The bliss of joy. Of relief.

I know that this good fortune could run out at any time, so it’s all the more reason, why I am covering myself in it. Soaking in his victories and just loving on him any chance I get. I think I’ve hugged him more in the last 3 months than 36 years. If only I could package up those hugs. Package up his essence, his joy. His smile every time I see him.

One of his little nephews asked if he was always so fun and pleasant, and we told him yes, He was. Later he can be told that sometimes drugs mask these qualities and that’s what the last 3 years were like. For now, it’s healing time.

I had this written on my chalk painted wall for an entire year.

If I could gift this feeling to other hurting Moms, I wouldn’t wrap it in a fluffy tissue bag with a pretty bow and a tag that says live, laugh, and love.

Instead, I would give them a bright glowing golden heart with the message: hold-on, hope-on, and heal-on.

A heart of intention, covered in precious dew drops of the tears of a thousand moms mourning the child they once knew. The dew would glisten and shine brightly to lead the way to give them hope. Hope that everyone's heart can heal. I would pass its energy onto trembling hands that have no idea what's in store. 

I would cover those trembling hands with all the love and faith I could carry, gently warming them into a slow breathable calmness. Telling them to trust, to hope, to have faith that there is someone who loves them and their child even more.

Someone who has them gently wrapped in the palm of his hands ever so strongly, knowingly.

When the pain is almost unbearable, and they feel alone, they can hold on to that heart and connect to their loved one, wherever they may be.

When you can't see the light, the Rainbow. You can't see any way out. Come back to your heart. That's where the God of your understanding lies. That's where your peace is. 

💘
As my friend Joanne so lovingly states:
That's where your safety lies.  That's where your child is safest.
In your own heart 💜


https://mailchi.mp/d56448346eba/lovewins

The Lure of the Chicken

Admit it. You’ve done it.

You’ve bought the chicken. You were minding your business, heading straight for the veggie section and there it was. The cart.

The smell. The warm roasted herbs and spices hit you at exactly the right (or wrong) time when you’re suddenly ravaged with hunger while running errands. The trouble is, it’s kind of an illusion. Not an illusion like McDonald’s where the bright colored flashy menus show thick, high (like 4 inches high) burgers with brightly colored lettuce and fresh pickles; but which are a stark contrast to what you pull out of the brown paper bag. Stuff which has been shown in experiments to last YEARS without biodegrading.

No, this illusion is a real chicken. After the initial cut and bite- thus rewarding those hungry taste buds- the dryness of this impulse buy finally sets in. Yup, the toasted brown bird that sat under the light (for hours) now sits in the fridge for days drying out even more. Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll get a chicken sandwich for lunch the next day out of the deal, but no one seems to want the chicken after the initial satiation is filled fueled by the delectable AROMA.

We are not alone in the cult-chicken following. Rumor has it that Costco sells 157,000 of these birds A DAY! And that’s just Cosco. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe everyone else is satisfied with their chickens. Maybe it’s just me.

I rarely intend to buy an already cooked chicken when I go shopping, especially when I KNOW it will dry out quickly. A couple years ago, I went to Kauai to get Married! I didn’t Intend to see chickens there either. But there they were – everywhere!

Even though I didn’t intend to see chickens they were a nice touch to a beautiful island! And my son would always ask them as they stared blankly at him,”What DO you want?” I’m sure their intent was food and maybe attention.

Act as if what you intend to manifest in life is already a reality. Eliminate thoughts of conditions, limitations, or the possibility of it not manifesting. If left undisturbed in your mind and in the mind of intention simultaneously, it will germinate in the physical world.

Wayne Dyer

Deepok says that whatever you intend to do or say or accomplish, you must SAY IT IN WORDS:

Intentions compressed into words enfold magical power.
- Deepak Chopra

So if intention is so important as Wayne Dyer and others always professed, why we’re the unintended things so prevalent? Is it simply because we forgot to set an intention? If my intention at the store was to only buy sustainable food, I would have never bought it.

So here’s the weird thing, despite (or IN SPITE of?) my dry chicken. Everything I’ve intended in the last year, worked out in a completely different way- key word- WORKED OUT. I won’t go so far as to say, everything happens for a reason, but shizz does happen.

Now here’s a strange twist. I’m not a regular Bible reader but I flipped open my dusty Bible tonight and it landed in 2 Samuel: 19 which mentioned INTENT! I googled Samuel 2 to try to find out what it was about and found this reference in another WordPress blog: Mcburnett’s Musings. Weird. Right next door.

Mephibosheth, in the Bible, was a great grandson of King Saul. He was dropped by a nurse when he was 5 while they were fleeing a battle. It left him crippled. He lived in Exile to avoid being slane until the king sent for him. He was nervous, thinking he was surely dead meat now.

His intention was to just stay alive.

“He repeatedly referred to himself as a dead dog – not a worthless dog, not a despicable dog, but as a dead dog”.

But the King (David) welcomed him, like the prodigal son, inviting him to his table. McBurnett summed it up with this:

☩ We are born into the king’s household.
☩ We were created in his image, just a little lower than the angels.
☩ We suffered a fall from which we cannot recover.
☩  We are saddled with human weakness to which we fall victim. Given our human tendencies, we repeatedly fall below our own expectations and intentions. Our heritage and lineage explains our behavior, but it does not excuse it.
☩ We live in exile. Our father intended for us to dwell in the palace, but because of ancestors’ behavior, we have been cast out and must deal with the consequences. David raised the question, “What of Jonathan’s descendants?” and Jesus raised the question “What of Abraham’s descendants?”
☩ We are redeemed by the grace of Jesus/God, as Mephibosheth was redeemed by the grace of David.
☩ We are in hiding. Like Adam, we hide our shame from God. We are afraid of the judgment to come. Meanwhile, God is seeking us like the lost sheep or lost coin.
☩ The king does not want to find us for punishment, but for redemption.
☩ The king wants us to feast at his table forever.- Mcburnetts musings.

Yes, that went deep quickly. That wasn’t where I was going to go with this post. I feel like I was led around the pasture by the reins. Maybe someone needed to hear it. My takeaway is that sometimes our intentions aren’t God’s intentions for us. I know beyond truth, that my intentions for how I wanted my life to go, didn’t work out and I’m grateful for that! My intention yesterday, when I walked into the store, was not to lose my wallet, but I did. When I realized it had fallen out, I quickly turned around the corner and saw my shopping list bouncing away. My wallet was nowhere to be found. It was never turned in at all. After canceling all the cards and mourning the injustice of it, today I had the freedom and the money (on another credit card that I didn’t have to cancel yesterday) to buy a new wallet. It’s not the same as my loss- then stolen wallet, which I LOVED the design and have kept for over 4 years, but I was able to do it.

Blessings.

Tonight, I’m sitting at the King’s table- ya know- my husband’s; with my oven-roasted chicken in a plastic-covered case, looking vat my Kauai chicken mug, and I couldn’t be more grateful that all is well for the moment. 🐔🐓🐔🐓

Why I Like Long Books

A re- share from fellow blogger Audrey Driscoll

One of the benefits of publishing in today’s milieu is that book length is no longer as rigid it was in the days of print-only, trad-only publishing. Especially in the case of ebooks, where length is measured in time needed to read a book, rather than its physical bulk. If a writer is inspired to […]

Why I Like Long Books

I was happy to read this post because my book is 470 pages! It’s longer than chasing the scream! I’ve been struggling to shorten it but maybe just maybe, it’s ok.

We Can Be a Bridge, a Tunnel, or a Brick Wall

The problem with irrational thoughts, is when you’re having them, they seem perfectly rational.

Whether

When bearing the weight of addiction, discouragement, the pain of loss, or the struggle with self-image after years of emotional abuse or deep wounds of childhood trauma or neglect; every person who is battling their demons has the same basic thoughts:

That they are alone.
That no one understands or that they don't want others to be bothered with the burden of their issues,
And that they have very few options.

Along with these thoughts come the overwhelming pain of loneliness, and then the desperately wanting the feelings to stop. Some succeed in making those feelings stop while others suffer silently, living seemingly normal lives.

Or living a somewhat secretive, self-harming life.

Until you’ve sludged through these thoughts. Its easy to make quick judgments about other people without knowing what they’re going through just to get through the day.
They suffer trying to not listen to what their disease is telling them- giving in to self depreciating thoughts that have ingrained themselves into their precious brain..🤯

You may not have time to help them or be a life-changer counselor but you could be the turning point of their day that gives them one sliver of light.

A spark of hope. Even showing a morsel of care.

How?

  • By NOT adding to their irrational thoughts of being unlovable, or broken, or otherwise not worthy of your care or your time.
  • Setting healthy boundaries that empower them to do the same.
  • Practicing the pause of making quick judgements or assumptions.

Basically by not being another brick in their wall of self defeat.

We can bridge the gap between chaos and distress.

We can be the tunnel to their freedom – escaping from the turmoil to see the light of a new day.

This is how we show a suffering human how to climb out of darkness. By being the light. By showing how healthy people communicate and solve problems.

May we all find our place of peace. There is beauty after pain, if even for a moment. Those moments added together , gives us purpose for our own lives.

Freedom, One Day At A Time

Just over 2 months ago, I declared my son healed. He wasn’t physically….yet, but I spoke healing over him. I had to. I was tired of spinning in circles of everything that was “wrong” with him. I was done making deals and pleas with God. I knew I had to accept him as he is, yet declare the greatness in him that seemed hidden.

He was in jail for the second time this year and the sixth overall from the last few years. I realized I was begging for the wrong things. As stated in my previous whining posts, it’s been a roller coaster ride. And not the new flashy, sexy roller coaster, but the old wooden, creaky, break-down-at-any moment roller coaster (where they would casually say: “You knew the risk” if something were to go wrong.

I was finished making deals and decided to get off the roller coaster, so I sent my first born incarcerated son this message of not only HOPE but of FAITH.

"Your potential is not measured by your surroundings at the moment, but by the quiet moments of your heart. Where you ache deeply for your family and kids. Where your shame has pushed you into places and spaces that smothered you into numbness.

Whatever it is that pushed you into those conditions you're in; whether it was a society who said you weren’t worthy of getting well; or your own spiral into self-defeat; you can come back.

Anytime, come back.

You’re needed. You’re wanted.

It might not seem like it.
We might be scared and worried at first, but it’s only because we care. We have been conditioned to fear the worst. So have you. That’s why it horrifies you to think of being that person you were before. After all – those were the days you needed to escape from. The stress and pressure of expectations and disappointment were off the charts some days.

What if you fail again?
Oh but my son, what if you don’t?
What if the last half or more of your life is filled with unbelievable joy? What if your kids and grandkids are gathered around you to hear your war stories? Not real war, but your days of the drug war. You won’t glamorize it like alcohol is. You will tell the cold hard truth. You will tell those precious souls that evil starts small. With a thought. A nudge. A risk. A desire for something more. You will tell them not to be afraid or embarrassed to admit their concerns. If they are in over their head, it’s the right thing to do to seek help, but mostly that ALL THAT GLITTERS IS NOT GOLD.

Come back.
So much love awaits you.

I knew the law had him by the nuggets, but I wanted HIM to WANT to come back to life. I wanted Him to make the decisions to recover, not just going through the motions. I wanted him to lead his own recovery so the success rate would be greater.

During his court hearing, his lawyer presented the name of the rehab he had been accepted to. The Judge started to approve his release from jail to the rehab when he slowly looked down at his notes. What followed was at least a 2 minute dead- silence tense moment in the courtroom, with all eyes on the judge as he looked from his notes to the computer. I knew my son was squirming inside but as usual, on the outside, he was cool as a cucumber. I was holding my breath wondering what the problem was.

Just 3 days before, my son almost got written up in jail for a problem with a jail razor not being turned in correctly. My son told me that it wasn’t him but he’s not a snitch so unless the other guy confesses, my son would probably be going to the hole for 24 hrs. I was thinking the judge was reviewing that and would punish him. At last, he spoke. It was a discrepancy in the number of cases. There was one missing. It was soon cleared up by the prosecution and the judge cleared my son’s release at 5 am the next morning.

My husband and I picked him up from that jail in the dark of the night, for the second time in 2 years. This time it was with hope, with the promise that this nightmare might be over. My son came out of the triple-locked electric doors with an old white shirt on and a garbage bag full of moldy clothes.

He was free. Would he run? My husband was prepared for that.

He didn’t. We proceeded on the 4-hour drive to rehab. The judge said we could only stop for an hour for a meal. Although I was concerned the judge would “find out”; we laughed about it as we stopped in to see his sister, went shopping for pants for rehab, and made the 9 am appointment for his CDL that was expiring quickly. We kept getting lost finding the rehab but finally made it by the 1 pm deadline. My son took his things, hugged me, and said. Thank you, Mom.

My husband and I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Almost as big as we did 2 years ago at the Las Vegas airport when we sent him off with a total stranger.

He was free, in a way. But we were too. Free from worrying about the stark realities of jail. A place where they are just babysitting them through their time there. Addiction might as well be a wart on their toe as far as getting “treated”. Although they did take me seriously when I called medical and said he was going to hang himself. They listened to the tapes and put him in solitary.

He recovered from that mindset, Thank God.

So here we are 5 weeks into rehab. There still are no promises. I’m trying to give my son space to heal. I’m letting him learn to take care of himself. When he figures out he needs something and asks me, I make sure I get it to him, no matter what the barriers. I want him to feel how it feels to have food, a nice bed, and take vitamins again. I do this because I know that to take care of others (his kids, a job, responsibilities); he has to relearn how to take care of himself.

It takes so much patience. From the addicted one AND from all involved. I feel a bit sorry for those who aren’t involved. Oh, I know it’s easier to wash your hands of something. It’s easier to push all the work onto someone else to fix what actually takes both parties to fix. It’s so much easier to say, “call me when you’re sober”. Or even disown someone. If there’s a threat of violence or abuse, I can totally understand. But to fellow humans, family, even; it still saddens my heart that they miss out on the process of change:

  • #1 The service given to a struggling human.
  • #2 The joy of watching them change day by day, week by week.
  • #3 To hear their thoughts and dreams of better days ahead.

It’s disheartening to hear:

“He’s still the same, and until he’s back to the person I want him to be, then he’s not deserving of my time.”

Maybe not in those words but it’s implied. As for me, I choose to take the good with the bad. I choose to aid in any way recovery-minded. Yup, I choose to bring him a basketball at night, when he wants to play basketball.

Because recovery is an entire mind-body and soul transformation. It's using muscles they haven't used in a while. It's feeling feelings they haven't felt. It's them leaving behind all the coping skills that they've honed in on for months and years (however illegal they were), and convincing them there's a better way- But mostly giving them the space to find it.  

He went into rehab with a bullet hole in his leg, I’m hoping he will come out with lead-strong strength and conviction in his healing. And I’m forever grateful that I get to witness it.

The Spiderweb Trap

I’m having a fight with Charlotte. Charlotte watches me. I watch Charlotte. Charlotte is a lot smaller than me, but she still scares me.

I first met Charlotte- or Charlotte’s work– when I saw a little web over a picture frame in my bathroom window. I cleaned it off and forgot about it. A few days later, I noticed it again. I took everything off the window sill and scrubbed it down. A few days later – there it was again.

This happened 2 more times. I couldn’t ever see the creator of the web, but she was certainly persistent.

“Where was this master spinner at?”

Does she have a home that she spends time at and her web is just her workplace that she goes to at certain hours? A few days later, I finally captured the elusive spinner as she sat admiring her work, I’m sure.

Dang, it was a white spider which my superstitious Mom (rest in peace) always said never to kill or it would bring bad luck.

So here I was, seemingly held hostage by a tiny monster that I didn’t dare get rid of. Things were just starting to look wonderful, I didn’t need any more bad luck.

I didn’t dare risk it. So here we sit. Charlotte ruling the house from behind her magical screen like some wizard of oz behind the curtain.

As I watched this video by Joe Dispenza, it occurred to me that like him, Charlotte is more concerned with the future than the past. She doesn’t care how many times her home is wrecked, she’s gonna rebuild. Whatever my thoughts or opinions are about her, she won’t let it stop her. She’s gonna do her thing to live and survive the best she can.

What can I learn from this meager little powerhouse of an insect? That no matter what anyone else says or does, we can stay true to our own purpose, to our own joy and satisfaction.

We can spin our web however we want to. It’s OUR story. OUR pain, our joy.

Of course, connecting with others is human. We can’t really hide in a corner and entrap anything that comes along with vitriol and spitefulness. But we can heal enough so that we aren’t affected by others’ actions.

We can then open our hearts with love which like Joe says in turn opens up our neurons that expand [just like a spider web] and leads our brains to new ideas and learning. Staying stuck closes us off from open hearts and open minds.

How to heal? How to change our thoughts?

Joe describes it as waking up in the morning with a blank slate and NOT by focusing on our problems from yesterday. How much webbing could Charlotte get done if all she thought about was Euyore-like thoughts “It will probably just get crushed by some giant human hand in a giant white paper towel? Why even try?”

It’s fine to think about what needs to be done to fix things but not things that are out of our control. Joe says to use our thoughts to reaffirm our future – not to condition us to stay stuck in our past.

He states the way to do this is by visualizing your affirming thoughts. In other words, think about what kind of person you want to be such us loving and kind, not reactive and suspicious. Think of things you want to have happen. Things you want to do. Your brain doesn’t know the difference of whether you’re actually doing it or not, so it will start creating new proteins that reflect those activities and characteristics. This is actually creating a new YOU!

He talks about achieving “coherence between brain and heart” which makes synchronicity that creates a “laser focus” of information back and forth. This helps with stress, and reactivity, with patterns that no longer serve us. It creates new thoughts which turn into actions that create more opportunities in our lives so we don’t feel stuck in this web of negativity.

My hope is that we can use our magic to spin our webs of love. To catch joy and light into the strands of thoughts we produce. To reaffirm our beauty and our true selves into our own webs of life. To be able to find where our power and peace lie- free from past conditioning so we can be open to receiving more love and peace.

“You’re Not Cold”…

Life lessons from the pool

I saw fear in a baby’s face today. I was in the the pool at my condo complex. There was a grandma who was trying to convince a baby that the water wasn’t cold, or scary, and that it wouldn’t envelop his little body completely and cover him in water darkness. Or that the splashing in his face wouldn’t sting his eyes & the bright 95-degree sun wasn’t hurting his eyes. He was okay. Because she said so.

Deny deny deny our feelings…….
How we have been raised to not even trust our bodies,
But rather to listen to everyone else who knows better.

“Father knows best”. Or Mother. Let ME tell YOU how to feel.

Trust other’s opinions. They know best….until what age? What age do we magically stop having to be ‘protected’?

A quick google search shows the disparity:

Then suddenly you’re supposed to have all the confidence in the world!! And not care what anyone else says or thinks… 😵

Time flies and then we are an anxious teen or adult, who can’t get a grip on what our bodies and minds are telling us! We might develop anxiety or depression as a result. This might be where eating disorders or addiction come in.

The worst thing about having anxiety-other than the wasted energy and time-of course; is being perceived (even by yourself) as being ungrateful, angry, or just plain selfish.

It’s true that people who live inside their thoughts for “longer than deemed necessary” by those who aren’t inside our heads (& those who seem to be in a carefree, worry-free zone at the moment); have an added guilt factor on top of their anxiety. This is because they are constantly told that they’re being ridiculous. Or that they SHOULD be able to just GET over it; or as I was told once: Why can’t you just be grateful and happy? …

Sometimes it takes a long while to find and maintain a balance.

I finally realize what this meme means. To unlearn. I like how Dr Nerdlove describes unlearning. It really fits in with today’s Social dilemma media blast too.

How To Unlearn What You Have Learned

One of the hardest things you can do — that anyone can do, really — is to try to unlearn something.

Especially something that you aren’t even aware that you’ve learned.

This sounds like an impossibility; how can you have learned something without being aware of having learned it? But in practice, it’s like the old David Foster Wallace talk This Is Water; you aren’t aware of it because we have been swimming in it for all of our lives.

And so it is with a host of toxic ideas about life, about manhood and masculinity, about women, even about how to live and behave. You have. I have. Everyone who lives in society has. It’s something that we have all been born into, something we’ve been so immersed in for so long that almost everyone is unaware of it and many folks push back when it’s pointed out to them.

Even people who become aware of all of those beliefs and lessons we’ve learned over time — myself most certainly included — can still buy into them. It’s not just a question of being aware of having learned these lessons. It’s about trying to unlearn them… and, in the process, replace them with the right ones.

But it’s a difficult process… and one that often leaves you frustrated, even angry at times. It’s one that we each have to go through, and if any of us do so with good faith, we have to do so without expecting a reward or even congratulations. And it requires looking at aspects of ourselves that we often aren’t comfortable with. Like Luke Skywalker in Empire Strikes Back, we often have to come face to face with the fact that sometimes the thing we’re struggling with the most is ourselves.

But the fact that it’s not easy points to just how important it is to do it; for yourself and others. Like trying to turn the Titanic, the sooner you start, the more likely you are to avoid the iceberg.

So let’s talk about unlearning what you have learned.

Learning All The Wrong Lessons

Of course, one of the hardest parts of unlearning a lifetime of toxic lessons is recognizing how we came to learn them in the first place.

And to illustrate that, let’s go off on a tangent for a second. Trust me, this will make sense in a moment.

What do you think of when I say the name “Tonya Harding”? Odds are, you have a mental image of someone who wanted so much to win the Olympic gold medal in figure skating that she broke the knee of her biggest rival, Nancy Kerrigan. What about if I say the name “Yoko Ono”? The quickest and most likely answer,  beyond John Lennon’s wife, was that she was somehow responsible for breaking up The Beatles. If we mention Kitty Genovese, then we think about the story of how a woman was brutally murdered and nobody could be bothered to do anything about it.

But more often than not, what we think of isn’t what happened. It’s what we remember being told what happened — a slurry of headlines, late-night talk show monologues, friends relaying the story from friends and vague memories of news coverage we didn’t pay that much attention to. We remember the meme of Harding bashing Kerrigan in the knee, but forget that it was her ex-husband’s best friend who did so. We assume it was because Harding was a poor skater intimidated by Kerrigan’s skill when Harding was, in fact, the first person ever to land a triple-axel during competition, something people once thought was impossible for a woman to achieve. We are eager to blame Yoko for the Beatles breaking up but ignore not only the near-constant conflict between Lennon and his bandmates, but the domestic abuse that she suffered at Lennon’s hands. Genovese’s murder wasn’t a case of 38 people callously ignoring a woman screaming for help; witnesses called the police, others yelled out the window at the attacker… but few knew exactly what was going on. Some thought they had heard a domestic quarrel, while others thought they were hearing drunks leaving the bar at closing time. The idea that 38 witnesses watched a woman be brutally murdered was the result of sensationalist headlines, poorly written articles and a game of telephone that ultimately lead to people remembering a story that was markedly different from reality.

Like Dr. Timaree Schmitt, I’ve been been binging the podcast You’re Wrong About, where journalists Michael Hobbes and Sarah Marshall discuss and debunk famous news stories, urban legends and moral panics, revealing how much we misremember or misunderstand about stories that gripped the nation. It’s an eye-opening experience to recognize how much of what we thought we knew about a topic was, in fact, colored by social expectations and beliefs. It was much easier to believe that Harding was a cheater who used violence to try to buck the system than a more complex person wrestling with class prejudice, sexual and spousal abuse and a system that actively forced her to stay in a profoundly abusive marriage, because we were primed to do so. The same goes for Yoko Ono; it’s much easier to say that a woman got in the way of creative geniuses because of her own ego than to credit deep fissures between bandmates.

That same willingness to bend our memories to our pre-existing beliefs, massaging and twisting stories until they only vaguely resemble the facts, is an exemplar of how easy it is to absorb toxic messages without ever realizing it. More often than not, we never had any reason to ever question our recollection or our interpretation of stories. Why should we? We heard them so frequently and so often that those were the versions that took root. We wouldn’t have heard it so often if it weren’t true, right?

The fact that they just happened to fit our beliefs about, say, sex, women, class or society just made it easier to absorb them without ever thinking twice about it.

To take it back to men, women and dating, you may have seen some variation of this post online:

Many people, especially men who struggle with dating or accepting their own worth, will look at this list and nod. This makes sense; this lines up with their experiences and therefore it must be true. But as with some of those news stories or memes we mentioned, these are a mix of things that are true, but also things that are deeply misleading. Ignoring that “if you’re undesirable then people won’t desire you” is fundamentally a tautology, it’s an example of the way that society and cognitive biases reinforce toxic beliefs — in this case about masculinity. We find it easy to believe because we’ve been raised to believe it. Men in particular are quick to relate these lessons to other men, not because they’re rooted in fact, but because they line up with what they already believe about women. They have been primed to believe it because we have had it literally sold to us in every possible form.

Yes, there are women who like powerful men. There are women who like rich men. I suspect it would not be much of a surprise to anyone that there are women who like classically handsome men. But not only is this working from the assumption that this is universal in women, it ignores that there are women who are attracted to men who aren’t powerful, who aren’t rich or who don’t have traditional good looks or builds that we don’t think of as “perfect”. However, because it tracks with popular beliefs about manhood and what women supposedly want from a man, it’s very easy for folks to believe it. Some people see this and decide the answer is to pursue becoming all of these things because it’s the “only” path to being desired. Others see it and despair; they believe that they can’t possibly measure up and so they believe they’ve been cut off from any chance of finding love or sex.

We have all grown up in a society that teaches us that it’s acceptable for men to act a certain way. We have all come of age — even now — in a world that teaches us that men are supposed to be incredibly aggressive in how they pursue money, power, sex and relationships. We have grown up in a world that teaches us over and over again through repetition, through jokes, through music, novels, movies, and television that stalking, physical aggression, manipulation, possessiveness and even threats of self-harm are acceptable ways of getting what we want… especially when those things we’re pursuing line up with what it means to be a man.

But we hear it so often and so frequently that it isn’t new or disturbing to us; it’s simply the lessons we’ve been hearing all of our lives. Even once we become aware of it, we aren’t out of it; it’s deeply rooted in our consciousness in ways we rarely expect.

Looking For The Blind Spots

One of the things that makes it so difficult to unlearn these lessons is that often we’ve absorbed them in ways that we aren’t even aware of. These become functional blind spots, things we don’t think to address because like a physical blind spot, we often don’t know they even exist. Not, at least, until they come into play. Often in ways that end up hurting other people.

Take me, for example. I don’t believe I’ve ever been less than candid about my past — being part of the pick-up artist scene, learning some things that were valuable and good and a veritable ton of shit that was wrong, manipulative or hurtful. Realizing just how toxic I was becoming was painful; trying to unlearn it even more difficult. It’s the sort of thing that’s easy to buy into because it aligns with the things you already believe — or just want to believe. At the time I was learning the various ins and outs of different pick-up schools, I never questioned it because it wasn’t in my interest to do so. I — so I believed at the time — was learning all of the secrets that would finally allow me to have the kind of life I’d thought I wanted. I had no reason to examine things because it lined up with so much of what I had either learned or been taught about women, about men, about sex and sexuality. The possibility that what I was learning from the pick-up scene was manipulative and harmful never crossed my mind. The idea of how much the things I had been learning were less about mutual pleasure and more about differences in power didn’t occur to me. I hadn’t thought about it from the perspective of the women I was flirting with or trying to pick up; I had no real motivation to do so.

I did have friends who would occasionally call me on my shit; many of the women I have the privilege of being friends with would point out that hey, my attitude and behavior was, mildly, more than a little fucking creepy. Not that I gave it more than half an ear at the time; my mindset was one of “yeah, but you don’t understand, it’s not like that…”

But it was. I just wasn’t willing to listen or think about it from someone else’s perspective. In part, because so much of what I was learning matched with what I believed about women, about men and about sex. But I also was enjoying the results I was having. There were active reasons for me to not look too closely.

And like a lot of systems of motivated reasoning, it worked… right up until it didn’t. You can’t be as manipulative as that, putting up a fake persona for that long and not have consequences. In this case, I had a near total collapse, following a moment of clarity in the middle of trying to pick someone up at a bar.

I realized in rapid succession that a) I was already trying to figure out how we would go, have sex, and then I wouldn’t need to see her again, b) I didn’t actually like her, I was seeing her as another number to bolster my ego, c) that I didn’t like the bars and clubs that I’d been hanging out in, d) that I hadn’t talked to people outside of the pick-up scene in weeks, e) that I hadn’t talked to anyone about damn near anything but pick-up in God alone knows how long and f) I couldn’t stand myself.

I apologized to the woman, saying “sorry, I have to go, I think I’m having a breakdown” and then sped home for a very long dark weekend of the soul, facing down how much I did not like what I’d allowed myself to become and what I was going to do to move forward. As much of it is a cliche to say, there was a lot of reading to do, a lot of listening to do, a lot of learning and studying and — yes — unlearning things. My friends who called me out were gracious enough to say “yeah, here’s the shit you were doing that bothered us”. People pointed me towards resources that I could study, about power and consent; actual, legitimate psychological, physiological and sociological studies of male sexuality and female sexuality.

But deeply ingrained beliefs and behaviors are hard to shift. It’s very difficult to uproot the learning of a lifetime, and there are frequently areas that I — like many folks — had no idea even existed. It’s not that I didn’t believe that certain behaviors were problematic, it’s that I had no idea that there were problems at all until they were pointed out to me.

One of the most notable examples was in the concept of the “Freeze Out” — a technique utilized by PUAs to counter what they referred to as “last minute resistance” and what everyone else would call “they really don’t want to have sex with you please stop”. The idea of the freeze out is that if a person were to encounter that “last minute resistance”, they would immediately cease all contact. Not just sexual contact, but physical contact. They were to stop, put on enough clothes to allow for modesty if not dress fully, then move to another room to do non-sexual activities. If done correctly, the other person would often re-initiate sex or sexual contact. In theory, this sounds like exactly what one is supposed to do; they’re not interested, you stop, all is well. In practice however, it reads entirely differently. It doesn’t read as “I am respecting your boundaries and the fact that you don’t want sex”, it reads as “I am angry with you and I’m going to cloak my anger in passive-aggressive behavior”. To a person facing this sudden change in attitude, it can be deeply unsettling. The balance of power favors the larger, masculine-bodied individual. Being alone with someone bigger than you who seems upset or offended means that you’re going to be motivated to make them not upset at you… including possibly having sex with someone you don’t actually want to have sex with.

As someone who’s a cisgendered, straight man with a fairly broad and heavy build, I had never had to think in those terms before. I didn’t even think to look at it from another perspective until after reading Clarissa Thorn’s Confessions of A Pickup Artist Chaser, where she discusses it in detail.

Once I had this blindspot pointed out, I could at least correct for things. I could adjust what I taught as acceptable, I could advocate for better, more conscientious and more equitable behavior. But learning doesn’t stop. Finding a blindspot doesn’t mean that you’ve found all of them. And you can still fuck up without realizing it, even when you should theoretically know better. There’s always more to learn, there’s more to work on and to improve and pay attention to.

Unlearning is a process, not an end, and it’s one that requires active attention to be paid.

You Must Confront Your Dark Side

Unlearning something is difficult under the best of circumstances. It’s hard to shift beliefs and behaviors that you are aware of, never mind ones that you aren’t necessarily conscious of. The lessons learned over a lifetime are deeply ingrained, with decades of reinforcement. Worse, trying to unlearn them often results in pushback from others. Some people will push back against the need to examine or change those behaviors because they don’t see them as being wrong. They’re “just how life is” or “they’re natural and instinctual”. Others will push back against it, actively insulting or maligning people because of their own beliefs and insecurities. Attacking another person’s masculinity is one of the quickest and surest ways of shoring up your own manhood; by policing other people’s behavior, you establish yourself as being “higher” on the masculine social pecking order. And still others have vested interests in people — men especially — not examining or changing their behavior. Any sort of growth, change or improvement is abhorrent to them because it becomes a path to deradicalization. Proud Boys, MRAs, Red-pillers and the like love to yell about cucks and manginas and soy boys because pushing back against toxic forms of masculinity threatens their position in the status quo. They need people to be angry and frustrated, aggressive and isolated, in hopes of bringing them into the fold.

But it can also be hard to shift because it requires taking a long, serious look at yourself and confronting things that you may not like to see. It’s hard to look at your actions and see how you’ve hurt people. It’s terrifying to think about the way you were and are part of a system that brings so much pain and misery to folks. It requires being conscious and aware of the parts of yourself that you don’t like, the things that you wish weren’t part of you. In Jungian psychology, this is referred to as your “shadow” or your “shadow self”,  the things that you believe to be unacceptable or that you wish didn’t exist. It’s all the things about you that you would prefer to believe you didn’t have. It’s much easier, less intimidating and less painful to try to excise it, to try to pretend it doesn’t exist.

But the shadow isn’t something that you’re supposed to ignore or suppress; it’s a part of you, and trying to excise it cannot and will not work. Trying to repress it just makes it come out in other ways, leaking into other aspects of your life and causing more pain and misery. Your shadow self is something you’re meant to confront; not to destroy it, but to reckon with it, learn from it and understand it. Our shadow selves are often a reflection of unmet needs; they’re the ways that we’ve attempted to fulfill those needs and desires. The problem is how unsuccessful those aspects are at helping us meet those needs, and how often they work against our goals. Someone whose shadow represents a fear of rejection that manifests as social anxiety might turn to alcohol to try to relieve their unease and boost their courage. Someone whose shadow self represents a fear of vulnerability or weakness might compensate by performing a particularly aggressive form of masculinity.

Examining and confronting your dark side isn’t about eliminating it or even finding balance with it so much as trying to learn about yourself. It’s about recognizing those needs, examining those fears and finding ways not to eliminate the shadow but to have those needs met in more positive and productive means.

By being willing to face our dark side, we’re able to get a fuller, more complete vision of ourselves.

Doing so, however, is hard. It means taking ownership of your choices and taking responsibility for them. Trying to face that side of you is never pleasant under the best of circumstances. It means having to confront embarrassment, shame and guilt. It means having to see your choices as just that: a series of choices that you made, not things that were forced upon you or that happened outside of your agency. It means recognizing that you may have scared, upset or hurt people and being willing to accept that, own it and make amends where possible.

And you may have to confront it more than once. Like I said: there are often blind spots in your life, ones that you weren’t aware of until they were pointed out to you or until you learned about them the hard way. Finding them means taking another look and seeing that there’s more to learn, more to unlearn and more growing that needs to be done.

It’s understandable that the idea of facing that side is scary, even painful. It’s understandable that anyone would rather avoid doing it if at all possible. Having done it myself… it’s never fun.

But it also means change. It means being the person who breaks the cycle, the person who contributes to the end of a societal message that leads to others being hurt. It means learning how to be a better person, creating new and more positive patterns in your life.

How To Relearn The Right Lessons

As hard as unlearning can be, relearning can be tricky too. It requires being willing to challenge what you believe and what you’ve been taught. It means learning to look at things from different perspectives, perspectives that don’t merely reflect your own beliefs and experiences. And it may mean making changes to your life.

But that doesn’t necessarily need to be a bad thing. After all, the things you do and the people you spend time with become your filter. The lifestyle you lead directly colors the way you see the world. Incels who spend all of their time soaking in the misery of various online communities, for example, find it only makes them even more miserable and hateful. Leaving the community, starting to spend time out in the world and seeing it as it really is instead of as the funhouse mirror distortion of the incel philosophy helps lead them to becoming happier and more fulfilled.

Trying to see things from other people’s perspectives and gain a fuller picture of the world around you can often mean examining other people’s lived experiences and seeing how different their reality can be from the one you perceived. Books like Jenna Birch’s The Love Gap1, for example,  can be invaluable for men who struggle with dating. Men frequently have a vision of women’s dating experiences that have less to do with reality and more to do with what they imagine based on their own beliefs. Seeing how different their lived experiences are from the version that men learn from other men can be an enlightening experience and one that often helps alleviate anxieties or fears about attraction or desirability.

The people you spend the most time with directly affect you, as well. People who are supportive of the growth you’re trying to achieve and the changes you’re trying to make are vital; we are all social animals who need support and community. Having people who are there to prop you up, cheer you on and help you improve can make all the difference in the world to your progress and improvement. And having friends who you can turn to for advice and perspective is invaluable. One of the benefits of having a friend with you when, say, you’re out socializing and meeting people, is that you have a second set of eyes with you. They can help you see things that you might be missing, whether that might be picking up on cues that you aren’t seeing or that you’re doing far better than you realize. Having someone to support you at times when you’re nervous, give you an emotional boost if you’re feeling down, or simply being good company can make a world of difference.

Part of the work I’ve done for myself meant making substantive changes, both in terms of the way I conducted my platonic and romantic relationships but also my lifestyle overall. I have been lucky enough to have friends who didn’t just support me but would also say “dude, what the fuck?” when needed, or point out patterns in my life that I didn’t notice. I de-prioritized bars and clubs and spent more time with friends, hosting parties and finding local events and activity groups that I enjoyed. I examined the ways I approached folks, the ways I flirted and where I met folks — both friends and potential lovers. I continued to seek out new resources for study, new perspectives.

None of it was easy or fun; in fact, a lot of it was, and still is painful. But as the saying goes: nobody said that it would be easy, just that it was necessary.

Becoming The Change You Want to See

As I said: part of what is so difficult about unlearning the lessons we all are brought up in is that they’re systematic. They are, quite literally, part of a system that we all live in, and one that we’re often unaware of. The more that we benefit from the system, the less we notice it… and why should we? It’s the sea that we swim in, one that causes us few problems… even as it damages others. And even being aware of the system doesn’t prevent us from benefiting from it or absorbing the lessons from it.

But once you’re aware of it, you’re able to affect it. And that means examining what you’ve learned and working to make changes in yourself. While change on an individual level — fixing yourself, unlearning those toxic lessons, addressing toxic behaviors — is a small thing, large. systematic changes are built from small ones. We are able to create spaces for ourselves and those around us that help encourage positive change, while discouraging the negative behaviors we hope to uproot.

It’s not a simple change. It’s all too easy to buckle under the weight of despair or the feeling of helplessness. It’s incredibly tempting to want to shuck off the weight of responsibility and not look too closely at your own actions, to deny the need to change or do better. And it’s tempting to say “here is what I need to do and then I am done. I am complete. I have nothing left to learn.” It’s always easy to try to decide that you’re finished, even when you have far more to learn, to rush off under the assumption that you’ve done as much as you need to, only to get hurt again.

Except there is always more to learn. Order requires maintenance, or else it falls back into chaos. And while it can seem like a daunting challenge — one that’s too great, too painful or simply too late — the first step is the simplest. Be willing to accept that maybe you’re wrong. Be willing to accept that maybe change is possible, that you aren’t alone, and in the end: you can advance. It takes work to build a better life, be a better person and help build a better world, even if it’s just your small corner of it.

But in the end… it’s worth it.

I still think you should cry if the water splashes in your face though.