Swimming thru the Villi

Yesterday was the start of my fourth week, post bariatric surgery.  I'm now technically into my soft food stage of healing and reintroducing foods to my Rumbly Tummy.  However, I tend to still do much better with broths and soups as a whole.  I have tried some other things; but like dairy, most things just aren't agreeing with me yet and I'm not going to force the issue.  Tho sometimes my mouth does write checks my stomach pouch is all like, nope Nope NOPE not cashing that, and oohpsie, it comes back up.  Usually I get myself to the bathroom in enough time, but sometimes what I think is a burp, is substantially more.  Would that be a vurp?

Mushrooms seem to go down nicely, like the ones in the Tom Kha that most any Thai restaurant will serve.  Mostly it's a matter of remembering to take my time and chew thoroughly.  It is SO a learning process; I'm getting better at noticing and predicting.  Most of the sensations are entirely new to me and I am not always sure if that particular one usually means this or if that feeling there is a one off and not likely to occur on a regular basis.  After all, I am still healing and not all sensations are my new normal, some are going to happen only through the healing stage; others are truly wow, ok, I hope that does not occur again.

Since I don't use facebook and other platforms that would have support groups, I rely on a few folks whom I know have experienced either RNY or gastric sleeve and also my own research online to answer a few questions.  If I am truly concerned, I eMail my follow up doc and nutritionist and ask!  They both respond quickly and are very thorough in their explanations.

However, I don't have any major concerns and am healing nicely.  My external incisions, including my drainage port, are healing well and are likely to continue doing so.  My internal anastomoses are, I think, healing as they should be.  I'm experiencing no pain, nor constant pressure or discomfort.  I have no fevers or swelling indicating inflammation.  The only regurgitation occurs when I've eaten too fast, too much, or something that is too soon for my system to handle yet.

So picture a shag rug rolled up so that the plush extensions are on the inside of that tube.  That's what the jejunum is like.  It's the second part of the small intestine and its function is to allow the well chewed tiny bits of food to go thru the finger~like villi that coat the entire inside of jejunum so that all those projections can pull the micro- and macro- nutrients out of the sustenance.  Since that is connected directly to the end of my stomach pouch, it means that if I want food to go thru that efficiently, I not only need to chew, Chew, CHEW but I also need to not drink anything for about half an hour before or after, so that I don't flush the proteins or micronutrients thru like having the water on full force before the plumber's helper has a chance to do its thing in your house pipes.  Or rinsing the dye out of your hair before it's set.  Or any one of the other examples that might spring to mind.

It also means tho that soups and broths and the food that's all soaking wet is easier on my system right now than comparatively drier and substantially firmer white meat of chicken and turkey or raw carrots and radishes or even flaky fish and shrimp.  All very tasty things yes, but not practical at this point.

Baby steps, Debra, baby steps.

Drinking myself into a soup stupor {only you, debra, only you}

The following is an excerpt of an eMail I wrote to my friend this morning, cuz if she will laugh aloud upon reading and then snicker from time to time upon recall.  Cuz that's the kinda friend she is, college friends make wonderful friends for all time, if you cultivate the friendship just right.  {{THANKS FOR BEING THAT FRIEND, Christi!!}}

OMG,  I drank myself into a stupor last night because apparently i CAN'T HANDLE MY SOUP.  Ok, I don't know if you've seen the differences in various ways that a stomach pouch can be created, but my surgeon connected the bottom of my truncated stomach to the side of my jejunum, which is an end to side anastomosis {connection}.  With a gastric sleeve, you've still your pyloric valve at the end of you stomach that controls the amount of the contents of your stomach that flow into your intestines {duodenum at that point, that's the first part of your small intestine}.  So with mine, I have no regulation between my tum and my jejunum {the second part of the small intestine}.  Which means that liquid just flows right thru doesn't get all hung up in this new lil tummy.  Which is great on one hand, it means I stay nice and hydrated as long as I drink my water.  It takes some getting used to on the other, because when it comes to water and similar fluids of that consistency, you don't feel full in the upper anastomosis, which is your brand new pouch.

So that means that about half an hour later, when the soup hit my large intestine, a wave of sleepiness overtook me and so I laid down, not thinking about how that would probably cause said fluid, now mixed with bile and other stomach acids from the remainder of my stomach that is now connected to my second/lower anastomosis just before my large intestine, to perhaps slosh around and backlog into the small intestine a bit cuz my body CAN'T HANDLE THE CONFUSION of what the what is going on here?!?!

Which is so not a pleasant feeling and also meant that like a sleepy doll, when you lay me down,  my eyes go shut and that signifies I am now sleeping.  Or at least in a very groggy state.  As in, better be in bed when you take the dose of nyquil groggy state.  So I staggered to bed, muttering, "see you tomorrow, AquaMan."  Followed with, "stupid stupid stupid"  followed by "soup stupor".  My bed is a long way from the couch.  My toilet is exactly 12 Steps from my bed, as I verified a multitude of times last night because peeing is my body's favorite way to rid myself of any liquid toxins that make it to my large intestines and I was mildly hallucinating about Jason Momoa arising from my bowl of soup with a giant spoon instead of his trident, glaring at me, and proclaiming, "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE SOUP."

Well, it WAS cream of mushroom.  But not THOSE kind of mushrooms.  sigh.

It's a learning process.

My thought process behind Weight Loss Surgery {WLS}/Bariatric Surgery/Gastric Bypass {Roux en Y or RNY}

Next week, my husband and I celebrate our tenth wedding anniversary.  TEN.  Which reminded me how quickly time passes.  My mother, whose birthday would have been yesterday, died almost five years ago.  FIVE.  Again, with the time flying by thing.

My mom had said to me, about two or three weeks before she died, when she was still in the cardiac unit, just days after her open heart surgery that I really needed to get my weight under control, so that I would have less of a chance of facing something like that myself.  I totally agreed.

I should have already gotten a handle on my weight.  Thing was, when I did conscientiously try to lose weight over the years, I'd not only regain the weight, but often another three to ten pounds.  I thought that I'd have some time to get it under control, because I was sure that it was a matter of willpower alone.  And I figured I just didn't have enough.

There were many things that took priority and I was sure that once I focused on weight loss, I'd conquer that just like I had dealt with so much other stuff.  So, when I realized that now's getting down to the nitty gritty for more reasons than one, I considered a plethora of options regarding weight loss.

Here are a few of the other reasons I wanted to address this:  I turn fifty next year.  My mother, and her mother, and her mother all died from end stages of heart failure.  They were all in their early to mid~sixties.  Altho I do not have current heart issues, I am having some slight pulmonary issues, due to obesity.  My joints are wearing, starting to grind, click, and stiffen.  Multiple systems are burdened with the extra weight and not running as efficiently as they could.  I've been borderline hypertensive for a couple years now.  Diabetes runs prevalently in both sides of my family. And fifteen years will fly by in the blink of an eye, meaning that my midSixties are a lot closer than I may have realized.

Also, my husband and I have a wonderful relationship.  He takes after his grandparents {who both lived until they were 98} and is in excellent health, in most all ways except one that is a neurological issue.  I'd like to be around as long as I can to enjoy spending time with him.  And as the neurological issue worsens his ability to learn new tasks, and affects his memory, so that even things he knew how to do become more of a mystery to him; I'd like to be around to continue to have my love enjoy as much of his time as possible.

So my weight has been a HUGE matter of concern.  I moved it to the top priority on my list, really focusing on it.  This summer, I started to do some rather intense research.

My husband had had gastric bypass three years before I met him.  So by the time I came into his life, he was already at the weight his is now, about 155, plus or minus a few pounds.  From time to time, he'd suggested gastric bypass as an option for me to look into, but I was sure I could manage my weight loss without such a drastic move as surgery.   But this summer, I realized that if that were true, I've have done that by now.

If you do have an interest about my findings during the research process, just ask.  By the time I made a much more definitive decision on my own course of action, I probably could have written a dissertation proposal on the psychotropic pharmacokinectics of bariatric patients.  One third of all bariatric patients do take psychotropics of one form or another both prior and post surgery.  So it was very surprising to me that there is limited information available, research studies published in peer reviewed medical journals first began to address this area only about seven years ago.  Most of them agree on two main things:  more research is needed and extended release medications should be replaced with immediate release versions.

Once I had made my decision to pursue gastric bypass surgery in earnest, I contacted numerous programs and facilities with highly detailed questions that most could not readily answer.  This was a great way to narrow the pool of acceptable programs and surgeons.  I spoke with, via live stream video, several surgeons {this is not the norm, it's that the questions I asked were interesting to the surgeons and they were willing to provide explanations}.  Once I was satisfied that I thoroughly understood the process, along with the risks and benefits, I began to consider where I wanted to go.

Let me take a break here and explain that here in the USA, the insurance companies often exert a certain amount of control over what procedures can be performed on particular individuals.  The main priority is not your health, it is lower liability and higher profits.  The bariatric professionals are often NOT consulted or even considered when it comes to policy for the insurance companies, nor are the approval criteria reasonable, in some cases, the requirements are considered unnecessarily strict by those dealing with metabolic and bariatric issues.

Knowing ahead of time this and also that my husband's first wife spent over three years jumping thru hoops, tests, doc visits, etc all out of pocket {the insurance companies do not usually pay for procedures and such that a patient needs to perform in order to satisfy the insurance companies' criteria and prerequisites}, which created more stress and more health problems for her.  She was approved, but many are not; the fact that I have pre~existing {albeit well managed for about fifteen years now} mental health diagnoses would very much count against me.  Only one fourth of those with mental health &/or neurological disorders are approved for bariatric surgery of any type, less so for gastric bypass.

However, let's say that I was approved.  Not counting the out of pocket expenses to go thru the prerequisite process to gain approval; just considering the co~pay alone, it would have been MORE than to go elsewhere to obtain services with higher success rates, fewer complication rates, and better overall healthcare.  So I looked at programs indepth elsewhere.

I ruled out quite a few countries, including Canada, right away.  In the end, I decided on Mexico.  Tijuana has a booming medical tourism industry.  The market for bariatric services is intensely competitive there.  If a program is not good, it doesn't survive.  Too many eyes, not just  those of the health department, but from other programs, facilities, surgeons, and the patients themselves, are scrutinizing every aspect that exists and then some.

Personal opinion can be expressed and seen in evaluations, so I kept that in mind when I did narrow down the programs and surgeons to a mere handful and turned toward reading reviews from past patients and there are always those who "know of" someone who had some horror story to share.  There were some that seemed legitimate and some that were just not quite believable because details were vague or missing altogether or because conflicting factual evidence was easily obtained.

My surgeon actually teaches at one of the foreleading programs that focuses on Bariatric Surgery.  This to me was the cherry atop the whipped frosting on the ice cream cake that I can no longer have, unless it's enjoyment of the memory of such a thing.  I do have those memories.  Yummy.

My package for the program included shuttle service from the San Diego airport across the border to the Tijuana Marriott Bonvoy, Executive Suite; the hotel stay and expenses such as my chicken broth, popsicles, bottles of water, etc; shuttle service to the CER Hospital; the pre op tests, lab work, and other services; the surgery, including all the services like the anesthesiology, etc; the post surgery recovery period, including all medications, and three additional nights at the hospital; all my meals at the hospital; the shuttle returning to the hotel; two additional nights at the hotel, including executive lounge services and my food; a shuttle tour thru Tijuana with extremely well informed drivers who know what the bariatric patients are allowed to have, so we stopped at a place  which served five  types of paletas that were acceptable for us to have; and the shuttle services from the hotel, back across the border to the San Diego airport.  Everything was included for one companion {for me, it was my husband} except his meals outside of the executive lounge at the Marriott.

All expenses, including those listed above, gas to and from our local airport, the seven day long term parking, the house/petsitter fee, and the two round trip flights from Jackson MS to San Diego CA cost LESS than the copay for most insurance companies for the surgery alone {not considering hospital expenses that accrue or any of the other expenses that mount up here and there}.  There were no hidden expenses with the Tijuana Bariatric Center's program.  They are very forthcoming with all the details, including that the hotel asks for a one hundred dollar deposit for your stay that can be reimbursed if you do not run up any expenses such as the minibar or eating at the restaurants within the hotel.  That's pretty standard practice in the USA as well, so no big surprise that the hotel would do so there.

Every one, from the USA coordinator, to the shuttle drivers, to the hotel personnel, to the nurses, to the Mexico coordinator, to the surgeon, to the anesthesiologist, to the follow up Dr, to the nutritionist, every one was an absolute delight to deal with.  I know that not everyone has the same experience, even if the same things occur, because perspectives and expectations are different.  I did a ton of research and pretty much knew what to expect.

There was only one matter that concerned me and I did bring it to the attention of all the other areas of the program so they might be able to consider several other alternative courses of action, including asking the patient to sign a release of liability so that the patient can retain control of their usual medications that they have taken that are not related to the hospital stay or procedure, provided that the surgeon approves the continuation of those medications.  I did get prior approval and would have gladly signed a liability waiver.  However I did surrender my usual medications to the hospital's pharmacy for dispensing to me.  There was an issue with the scheduling of when they administered those meds; however, it was for a limited time, several days, and I was able to reinstitute my own schedule once I was discharged.

This was the ONLY issue I had encountered out of a week's stay in Mexico.  Now I don't know about you, but I have never had any hospital stay, medical in office procedure, etc that went so smoothly as this major surgery involving multiple agencies, including the potential for complications due to language barriers and misunderstandings.  I speak next to no Spanish and yet no one chided me for that; in fact, a couple nurses apologized to me for not speaking very good English, while I was in THEIR country.  Most of them spoke better English than quite a few USAmerican adults whom I encounter every week.

Thank you, to everyone involved.  I appreciate you more than you know.  Thank you.

k~12

Sometimes, I come across some pretty cool stuff on youtube.  I might not always like the every aspect of a video, but I love the creativity involved, the effort the artist put forth, and new~to~me elements that tickle me or make me gasp in surprise.  Melanie Martinez's K-12 is a full length film that is fresh off the premiere list, having just been released about ten days ago.  I'm only about fifteen minutes in and am already loving it.

What think you?

Here's a lil PMJ:

We're basically one week out from the autumnal equinox, when the days and nights are the same length, harvesting continues, growing seasons are dwindling to a close for most produce, and the hot days of summer are a thing of the past.  Well, in theory.  In reality, we're still hitting triple digit figures once the heat index is factored in~~that Mississippi moistness will get ya every time.

Overall though, I do feel less summery and more fall~like.  Maybe it's partially due to football being heavily featured three or four days of the week; which means loud announcers on the TV, constant crowd noise, unintelligible referee calls, football players who sound vaguely like adults in Charlie Brown's world, and cringing dogs huddled under my computer desk.  It could also be the teas that I've been brewing and consuming, all of which have a distinctively autumn harvest or holiday spice flavor, as I was taste testing for selection of teas to offer in our fundraiser teacups and saucers in the effort to bring Moving in the Spirit, a dance troupe from Atlanta, here to Starkville.

Recently, we had our front door replaced and were considering curtains for it.  Mostly, the ones we viewed were autumnly themed, as that's the overarching decor of our home...we like the warm golds, burnt oranges, deep maroons.  I look ahead at the calendar to see what all is on our schedule and in addition to the football games, we'll be attending a PostModern Jukebox show in a few weeks.

Keep On Keeping On

A friend shared this with me today, I'd like to pass it on.  My Silver Lining is the song, written and performed by First Aid Kit.   This video is visually and auditorily stunning, a treat that gave me a lil delight this afternoon.  Maybe it will for you too!

Don't Give Up

When I was about seventeen or so, back in the 80s when mix tapes were a thing, my friend Hal gave me one that expanded my musical horizons quite a bit.  I loved Hal from the minute I met him; how could I not?  He was Jim's partner, together they were witty and kept our kitchen full of laughter whenever they visited my family.  Hal was quiet, thoughtful, a reader, and willing to discuss pretty much anything.  Even after he and Jim were no longer a couple, we remained friends with both.

I'd never heard Kate Bush before he introduced her to me with this duet with Peter Gabriel.  Don't Give Up is one of the most heartfelt songs I've ever heard.  The music, the lyrics, both their voices, and this video simply combine to evoke a complex set of emotions that include encouragement, exhaustion, and comfort.  It's the love that we all long for, an embrace full of care that we can give our own selves...because we were wanted all along, even when we are sunk in despair.  That soothing balm allows my soul to relax, feeling safe and cared for, even when I don't realize that I'm needing just that.  This song has always affected me so.  I can feel my own love and care grow and swell, pouring forth from me in swirls that enfold and cradle.  This song generates so much for me, within me, and I want to give that too.

Hal gave me Bush's The Dreaming, it blew my mind.  When she released The Sensual World, I did a thing I rarely did; I bought the cassette brand spanking new.  I experienced much with Hal, but this gift was the most meaningful, because it calls forth so much, in just a few seconds, so effortlessly.

I miss him so; his quiet strength was so characteristic of him that he maintained it throughout his battles and quick demise.  His death was the first I'd witnessed that bore such dignity and awareness; my first brush with AIDS and the helpless frustration of being powerless to ease another's suffering was overwhelming for me, as tangential as my role had been.  Sweet Hal, oh so gentle, such a good man gone way too soon.  His gifts of then keep giving me so much still.   Thank you.

Summer's End

The summer is cooling down, coming to an end.  Not just according to the calendar, convention, and school year, but also because football season has started and it's now after Labor Day.  The day after Labor Day last year is when I started wearing my Halloween dresses.  I normally detest rushing the holidays, but I had already waited nine months to wear those dresses, which I had bought just post christmas the previous year.

But this past year, I've made a few minor changes to my wardrobe, which was pretty major for me.  For one thing, I tend to wear things for decades.  I also don't really follow fads, or seasonal fashions that are trending.  I find something that I like to wear, that fits and that flatters, that feels good and is comfortable.  Then I get it in every color I can and wear the shit out of it.  This explains why I have this off the off the shoulder, lacy, fit and flare dress in green, purple, royal blue, navy blue, red, and black.

I also have many maxi dresses, thin nylon beach wear that is super easy to wash, pretty much wrinkle resistant, and that makes them the perfect travel garments.  So in March when my husband and I set off on our train trip across the states to San Diego and then cruised thru the South Pacific Islands, flying back home five weeks after we left, the majority of my clothing was suitably tropical.  We had a great time, an ideal way to celebrate our tenth anniversary.

Last year, prior to the holidays, there was a commercial that used Redbone's Come & Get Your Love.  I love that song, it always makes me feel like dancing in that sort of carefree way I did as a child, when it was popular the first time around.  February of this year, I played that song all the time, because it made me feel encouraged, to be brave and go for what I want, even tho I have self doubts, and worry about flaws with my beautiful mind.  It was my "psych me up" song, a sort of "you can do this, cuz it's alright"; I got this.  And I did.

For two years now, I've done an incredible amount of non~stop work, delving into some deeper, scarier issues that I felt like I was ready to face.  It hasn't been easy, it has been messy, I've made some mistakes along the way; but overall, it was so worth it.  And it continues to be a self discovery, gaining some confidence, some experience, some knowledge about myself, and lots and lots of acceptance of all my aspects, or most of them, anyway.

This summer started with a huge revelation that I was unprepared for, but was so thankful to realize that I could experience joy and exuberance, that those emotions were not lost to me and that I was not muted, dampened, or dead inside~~which is what I'd been resigning myself to, as I had been feeling almost affectless for awhile, but not really.  I was experiencing all the not quite pleasant emotions and states, like anxiety, fear, anger, hurt, etc.  But not the sustained happiness or joyful zest that I'd been striving for.  Tho I love my life and my husband, I felt like the happiness that would be completely appropriate to be feeling was absent and I worried that those positive feelings had bowed out, leaving me with the head knowledge but not the heartfelt feelings of grateful, blissful, joy.

So when I experiences the physical sensation along with the emotional feelings, I was even happier because of the discovery that they hadn't fled.  That I could indeed enjoy those feelings and so I really craved them, eagerly anticipating experiencing them more often.  I wanted to learn how to call forth those feelings for myself, when I wanted them.

Immediately, I experienced that in order to be open to feeling those positive rushes, I might experience gutwrenching painful episodes too.  I knew that, but was surprised that even in those times, I was learning more and more about me, being vulnerable to some very deep seated, old fears; like fear of rejection and abandonment.  I attempted something that was and still is, tho less so, scary for me and that is having hope.  It's not that unbridled joyful hope that demands so much trust and faith, I'm not that brave...yet.  But I did take some baby steps and just being aware of it, being able to identify it, was a huge step for me.  It potentially opens me to many possibilities.  That's great, scary, but great.  Some days, not always, but some times, it means that I grow too scared and need to pull back into a safer place and not be so vulnerable, so hopeful.

That means tho, that I can do some counterproductive things, that may not be in my own best interest.  But at the time, it felt safer to not have hope.  It felt safer to think that I should prepare for the worst and not expect the best.  It felt like if I expected failure, then I wouldn't be hurt when it happened.

Over the summer, I tried to not let myself get stuck in that tho.  If I did admit defeat, even if it was for a few days, I let myself rest and rethink, then brave being vulnerable again.  Allow myself to have hope, to leave myself open to possibilities.  It's scary, and it's hard, I won't lie.  Sometimes it takes all I have not to retreat and throw up my shields and guards, cowering behind thick unfeeling armor that demands that I shun my desires, my hopes, my dreams, my happiness in favor of being safely predictable and deny myself pleasure, because having hope is risky.  It means that I have to trust in myself and others, I have to have faith and believe, instead of know for certain.  And that is terrifying for me.

So this past week, I lost my patience, I threw up my hands in exasperation and said, "I give up.   I can't do this anymore.  It hurts too much" and then I did a mean hurtful harmful thing.  Instead of facing the fear and dealing with it, by sitting with it, getting to know it, and being curious about it.  I tried to rid myself of it immediately, I tried to block it and deflect it with that stiff armor that weighs me down and holds me back.  I lashed out, spewing meanness, taking all my hurt and turning it into daggers, spearing another person with my words.  I was so hateful to them that even while I was doing that, I was horrified at my own behavior.

I'm so regretful.  I'm so sorry.  I have no excuses, really.  I can explain myself as I just did, but that doesn't excuse or justify my actions.  And what's really scary is that I did pretty devastating harm.  It might even be irreparable.  The only redeemable thing that I can see is that I am learning, the awareness means that I catch is sooner and that I am less likely to do it as often.  But it doesn't erase what's been said, what's been done.  I can't take that back.

I can only move forward, with the intention to be better more often.  Hopefully, my autumn will see me holding space for hope with out the need for reassurance.  Hopefully, hoping.

toodling and tuning

Lately, I've been listening to lots of music.  Some of it are the tunes I favored in my young adult years, thru my teens, into my twenties~~Melissa Etheridge, Joan Osborne, Tracy Chapman, Sarah McLachlan, Tori Amos, Sinead O'Connor, and a healthy dose of 80s {we were ever that young?!?}.  Some of it is what I grew up with, the records my folks played by artists who have made lasting impact on so many more than me.  These are the Beatles, Pink Floyd, Led Zepplin, Doobie Brothers, Eagles, Eric Clapton, Jimi Hendrix, Steve Miller Band and what we might now consider classic rock, or even southern rock.  Some are current or fairly recent finds, but most are reaching back thru the years because its not just the music that I'm experiencing, but the memories evoked, the feelings so strongly associated with each of those songs, musicians, albums, time period, etc.

I usually find music to match the mood I am in or the mood I want to be in.  Sometimes I miss the mark altogether and end up thrusting myself into some angst ridden hidden memory that was full of such rawness that it takes my breath away, feeling such compassion for the me of that time, who was so tender, so powerful but unaware or unprepared, or both.  I was able to be with those aching hurting me of then.  Sometimes that younger version of me was experiencing such unbridled joy, that even now just listening to that music and experiencing the memories of that time made the me of now grin and belt out the lyrics with such exuberance that fellow drivers in other vehicles were startled by my flailing arms.

That's the thing about most of the music I've been listening to lately; it begs to be played while I am alone, in my car, driving and riding, thru town, along back country roads, taking in the sights of lovely lush Mississippi summer verdant fecund vegetation and stopping in the tunnels of tree limbs arched over me into protective canopies that soothe my soul like the best balm ever.  There are a few locations in the area that I've discovered in my ramblings and if I go there at the right time, just as the sun sets, or the dusk dims the heat of the day, or as the rain swollen clouds darken the skies, I feel as though I can taste life right at that moment, a slice of being completely present right then and there.

So if you see a ten year old, slightly dented and worn, dusty hatchback in your neck of the woods with a woman emoting her bliss, her ecstasy, an odd sort of angst that harkens back to times gone by, chances are it may be me, driving along, singing my song, wandering around, checking the sights, enjoying our summer while it lasts.

Reluctant Reactions Regarding Ravelry

 

While today's Mallard Filmore's comic message {which is a headline from Business Insider} is not exactly the truth of the matter, it is the way many folks are interpreting Ravelry's zero tolerance policy regarding hateful speech, texts, pictures, avatars, etc. from their members, toward their members.  So yes, while they do focus on Trump supporters as an example of this sort of behavior, their policy has been contorted beyond belief with many folks up in arms because this is a very emotional issue, with lots of fear and shame involved.  Tempers flair, anger and blame erupts, and the original point is lots in all the recriminations and voices wanting to be heard.

So, to be fair, Ravelry does specifically target those who post their support of Trump in their recent policy.  {“Note that support of President Trump, his administration, or individual policies that harm marginalized groups, all constitute hate speech.”}  However, they go on to clarify what the policy means, including "You can still participate if you do in fact support the administration, you just can’t talk about it here."  I think in large part, the overwhelming Trump relevant posts in the past have been focused solely on exclusion, hate, and intolerance.  This tends to incite the verbal, text, visual, and virtual equivalent of riots as things escalate quickly into the heated realm of personal attacks, threats of actual violence, and further destructive division.  So Ravelry's admin stepped in and adapted a policy that specifically addresses this type of nonproductive conflict.

I have mixed feelings regarding this.  My first reaction, a gut level, emotion driven response was a resounding sense of relief and a vague sort of victory.  This was quickly followed by a wry "yeah, but this is going to have lots and lots of backlaah".  And then my "let's think this thru" parts spoke up with reluctance, which is different than my "yeah, but" parts that are very tentative at voicing differing opinions when I know they will not be well received by those who I generally agree with.

However, my tribe where I feel I truly belong gets it, they might not agree with it, but they totally support that I have a right to my opinions and so for that reason alone, most are willing to listen to and think about what I have to say.  True belonging allows you to voice dissension and still be accepted and embraced, so long as you express your own points of view in reasonable ways without personal attacks and while respecting others.  Many shy away from conflicts, voicing differing opinions is often associated with huge confrontations, because that is what their experience has been, even within families, with friends, and other loved ones who responded with rejection or intolerance.

This ties directly into Ravelry's decision to specifically cite Trump supporters.  While I completely agree that intolerance and hate are futile and destructive, I'm not amiable to acting against hate and intolerance with further hate and intolerance.  Seems counterproductive and hypocritical.  I'm not exactly sure what the answer is, but I am pretty sure this is what it is not.

We cannot foster discourse that allows us to learn, understand, and clearly communicate with an aim to unite when we reject and ban others from the conversation by expelling them from the gathering altogether.  I understand that for the most part, these postings on Ravelry were not fruitful discussions, as most of them were hate~mongering; but to respond to those individual cases with a generalized discrimination of an entire group by equating all Trump supporters with hate, bullying, and intolerance is itself promoting self selection and sweeping intolerance.  So while I understand the good intentions, I think the actions may have been off kilter and missed the mark.

What are your thoughts?  Comment below and share!

Vulnerability

No one likes to feel the discomfort of being truly vulnerable.  Allowing ourselves to sit with fear, shame, and discomfort is an incredibly brave gift we can give ourselves when that is done with love and clear intention.  All fearful situations are not the same, tho they might feel and evoke similar sorts of sensations and reactions; so I encourage you to learn to differentiate between what is a dangerous situation that is harmful and a discomforting situation that is not.

I'm not talking about fear due to a dangerous situation, such as abuse~~that fear is a good thing because it is designed to save us from being in that sort of situation in the first place or helping us to sharpen our wits so that we can either flee, stop, or prevent the danger .  Fear can be a survival tool, alerting us to those threatening elements that might cause harm.

However, that is not the fear that I'm focusing on here.  I'm talking about that fear of judgement that prevents us from being true to ourselves, allowing our authentic selves to be expressed and seen.  Fear of rejection, fear of ridicule, fear of shame, fear of thinking we simply are not good enough.   This fear can allow us to deny ourselves, causing us to be deeply ashamed of some aspect of ourselves.  Some part that ourselves is afraid that if we reveal it, others will judge us and we will not be accepted or loved~~so we shun that aspect, we might even loath that about ourselves.  This fear is also trying to protect us from being emotionally hurt thru rejection.  This fear can prevent us from expressing our opinions, our preferences, our needs, our desires, our thoughts, our feelings, and so on and so forth.  This type of fear can cause us to judge our own selves harshly, can cause us to stifle our own thoughts, can develop into significant problems as we experience inner conflict, confusion, anxiety, and all the physical sorts of sensations that the other type of fear triggers too, such as palpitations, trembling, sweating, pupil dilation or contraction, difficulty breathing, paling or flushing of skin, nerves tingling, and so forth.  Our minds and bodies react to fear as fear, not differentiating between situations and whether this fear is a good thing because there is real danger present or fear that may be further harming ourselves, preventing us from being our wholehearted selves and perhaps experiencing something wonderful because we are allowing our true selves to be seen, putting ourselves out there.  Being vulnerable to the risk of rejection by being our honest true authentic selves is a huge deal.

Why is that important?  How can that be a good thing?  Why risk the danger that we might be judged, that we might be rejected, that we might be ridiculed, that we might be found to be less than perfect and flawed?

Well, peace of mind is essential.  Inner conflict that can arise due to fear of exposure and shame can cause anxiety, which then triggers more fear, which places incredible amounts of stress on our physical system and our mental well being, as our mind and body interprets that as danger and we are in a constant fight/flight/freeze survival mode.  We need time to fully recover from those intense reactions that cause spikes in blood pressure as our system shifts the flow of blood from our organs to our muscles, tensing them, which can cause spasms that can develop into more severe physical trauma and damage that is harder to address the more often this occurs~~the longer we stay in this state, the more harm we do to ourselves.

So in the effort to prevent rejection from others that will cause hurt and shame, we are then inflicting enormous amounts of pressure on ourselves, resulting in harming our own minds and bodies.  This vicious cycle can become a way of life, as we hurt ourselves more and more in the effort to be accepted and loved by others, who we fear might reject us and not be supportive, loving, and caring of us.  We are rejecting our own selves because we fear others' rejection.  We become more disconnected from our own selves, thrusting ourselves into turmoil, inner conflict, anxiety, depression, and other harmful manifestations to our own well being.  As the chaos within seeks release and relief, we might feed addictions, lash out at others, creating outer conditions to match our inner conditions which may have already been a result of some outer condition.  So the cycle goes and grows.

So what do we do?  How can we either slow this down, stop this, and be better to ourselves and others?  The key is allowing ourselves to be vulnerable, to be curious about our own inner thoughts, feelings, and reactions~~to feel the fear and examine it, to lean into that fear, walk into it, to sit down with it, to give ourselves the time and safe space to look at the fear directly to see what is at the heart of it, why are we experiencing this dread, this fear, this overwhelming choking sensation that is catapulting us into frantic frenetic reaction to avoid this fear, to make this fear go away?  And yet, that doesn't seem to work, the fear grows and grows and we become more and more avoidant, trying to deny that fear of our own selves, to cut that piece down or out, to shun it, to scream it into submission as it grows and grows and grows, til we fear the fear that might swallow us whole.

Once we can examine that fear tho, we might begin to heal, to diffuse the fear, finding it is manageable and not nearly as terrible as we once had thought.  We might learn some valuable things about ourselves and begin to express those aspects, braving rejection that might not actually be present and if it is, do we really need or want to be around those that cannot not and do not accept us for ourselves?  If we can feel the fear, be brave enough to look at ourselves,  be vulnerable enough to allow others to see ourselves, risking their judgement, we might find that they accept us, embrace us, love us.  Or not.  Their rejection might hurt, it might disappoint, it might mean that we have to realize that they are not supportive of us in that way and that perhaps we will want to find others who are supportive, who do love us for us, just as we are.  But that hurt that results from others' rejection is probably going to be way less harmful than the hurt we are already inflicting on ourselves while we are squashing our own selves in the effort to fit in where we don't thrive, flourish, are accepted with all our quirks and perks, and belong.

Yesterday, I was incredibly vulnerable, time after time, in various circumstances, as I faced my own fears and encountered some rejections, yes, but way more acceptances.  As I received others' praise and accolades, I felt loved and validated; but even more importantly, I felt the satisfaction of my own self expression.  A certain calmness bloomed within and I clicked into place, coming home to myself in a more complete way that allowed me to breathe deeper and more freely than I have in about a month or so.  I felt my inner turmoil quiet and dissipate as I'd reached some resolutions for my own self.  As I bravely risked rejection by allowing my vulnerable self to be present, to be seen, I also found acceptance, true belonging, and love within myself, for myself, and because of myself.  The acceptance and love from others?  It's great too, yes; but it was like the icing on the cake of my own deliciousness.

Being brave and having the courage to be vulnerable doesn't always manifest in such huge momentous ways.  Sometimes, I feel vulnerable just expressing a different opinion than the group consensus.   Sometimes the discomfort of expressing a boundary instead of allowing it to be violated can feel incredibly dangerous, as I am risking that the other person may grow angry, rejecting me in that moment.  This can be a minor but still important things, such as seeing to my own self care rather than seeing to someone else's.  But I do it anyway, because if the matter causes inner conflict, than it is important enough of a matter to pay attention to and examine.  My own healthy well being and peaceful state of mind is worth my attention, worth my acceptance, worth my showing up and being present, worth my vulnerability, worth my brave courage, worth my own self care in the face of others' judgement and possible rejection, worth my own support and full acceptance, and worth my own love~~because I will always be there for me, even if it takes awhile for me to show up for my own self because I was too scared to risk vulnerability, eventually, I am here for me, and that's essential and worthwhile.

Aren't you also worthy?

Gottman, Giovanni, and Jerry {& me}

This autumn, Jerry and I celebrate ten years of marriage.  In many ways, we never left the honeymoon stage.  So he was a bit confused when not quite two years ago, I suggested we do a couple's retreat.  "There's nothing wrong with us," he said and I agreed.  Still do.

So I explained that I thought that since we had had several years worth of other~oriented stuffs, it would be good to refocus on us, as a couple and as individuals within that couplehood.  Besides, I never really thought of a couple's retreat as being a fix~it for a troubled relationship.  Couple's retreats can bring you even closer.  Or at the very least, give you the time and space to indulge in each other for the weekend, pampering each other, focusing on each other, being catered to, and perhaps even learning a thing or two along the way.  It's a time to relax, to retreat, to rest, to restore, to regroup.

And so I found Niki Kissell at Circle of Light Unlimited in Florida and we set up a very special couple's retreat that was solely for one couple, just my husband and myself.  It took place in February 2018 and was amazing.  Jerry and I enjoyed it very much.  Jerry surprised himself with how much he appreciated the loving supportive atmosphere that Niki provided.  I loved how much Jerry loved it, that just made it all the better for me.

In Niki's welcome basket, she had put all sorts of goodies, including an interesting deck of cards which included both the love map and open ended questions by the Gottman Institute.  We'd asked each other a few questions that first night, reinforcing that we know each other pretty damn well, as we were able to answer the questions for ourselves and for our partners.

Over the last year and a half, we would sometimes use the questions as conversational starters when traveling, while at dinner, and even while ringing in 2019.  Sometimes, we'd follow the tangents off into more interesting paths through some awesome territory.  Other times, we might go for several weeks without turning to the deck; then we might discuss six or seven of them in one sitting.  It just depended.  Each time tho, we were pretty much able to easily answer the questions about each other or have some general idea what the other person might answer about themselves.

Then a couple weeks ago, we headed to Virginia, having worked our way thru most of one deck in the last year or so.  In a few hours, we finished that deck and then turned to the other.  By the time we stopped for lunch, that deck was finished too.  Our take away was that we know each other very well and tho there were a few pleasant surprises, the reassurance of how well we DO know each other was comforting and also...effortless.

Relationships can be lots of work.  Ours has not been.  I didn't realize how effortless and good a relationship can be, til I met Jerry and came to know him.  I am truly a very lucky girl, in oh! so many ways.

One question that he could not answer was my favorite poem, but then again, why would he know that?  I'm not a poetry loving kinda gal.  My favorite poet is Dorothy Parker {who said that men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses}, while my favorite poem is by Nikki Giovanni, has been since I was a young woman:

I Wrote a Good Omelet
...and ate a hot poem, after loving you.

Buttoned my car and drove my coat home

...in the rain, after loving you

I goed on red and stopped on green, floating somewhere in between
...being here and being there, after loving you

I rolled my bed, turned down my hair

...slightly confused, but I don't care

Laid out my teeth, gargled my gown,

then I stood and laid me down

...to sleep, after loving you.

Jerry guessed Robert Frost's "Road Not Taken", which was a very good guess and probably does rank right up there in my top five, along with Max Ehrmann's "Desiderata".  But nothing quite satisfies my lusty soul like "I wrote a Good Omelet".  It's rather toothsome on all sorts of levels.

So to use Gottman Institute terms, ahem, I feel we've a "sound relationship house", built on understanding, connection, and intimacy.   Our relationship is rich in acceptance, belonging, love, trust, honesty, and valuing each other's worth.  Jerry is an easy man to love; and he loves me, as I am, as I was, and as I will be.

And who can ask for anything more than that?

Why yes, I CAN tell you how to get to Sesame Street!

I love NPR's Tiny Desk Concerts, which cover a wide range of musicians, types of music, and has been around for quite some time.  So I just had to watch the Sesame Street edition that came out today.  It made me smile and brought back a plethora of memories:  sitting on the shag carpeted living room floor of my favorite grandmother {which is why I chose to be called "grandma" by my husband's younger grandchildren}, watching the show along with 4321 Contact, Electric Company, School House Rock, Hatchy Milatchy, Mr. Roger's, and almost any other children's programming on PBS on the large wood~framed floor unit TV that was rather popular thru the sixties and seventies.  Grandma's was one of the only places I could watch TV, but only for an hour or two, when we visited from our own home that was about two or three hours away.  I had to sit a good distance from the TV, and if I did sing or dance along with the characters, I had to do so quietly, so that I would not disturb the adults.  I do know there were several times I got carried away and belted out "sing, SING a SONG" and capered about, jumping, spinning, and attempting to turn cartwheels which ended with me merely tumbling across the floor because I had terrible balance, but I didn't care; the pure joy of Sesame Street's character's inviting ME to join with all the other children was too much to keep stifled into a cross legged seated position.

Without further ado, take it away Count!!

Too Muchness

I did a great disservice to myself and others this past weekend.  Thankfully, it only took me several days to catch on, recognize it, acknowledge it, and apologize.  That's if you look at it one way.  On the other hand, it took me forty some years to reach this particular AHA! moment; but, I did get it and now that I have it, I will be able to work with myself to better understand so I don't completely panic in my anxiety and go to the extreme of assuming worst case scenarios.

Let me explain...

I was fretting about being too much, too quickly, too intense, too demanding, too expressive with all my too muchness.  This caused me to be too clingy, too much in need of reassurance, too fretful, and too stuck in my head with all my self doubts about being too much.  It was a vicious cycle of anxiety that was consuming me and then, I had some moments of clarity when I was writing to a dear friend who knows me oh so very well, for oh so very long.

Writing is a form of thinking for me, I've said this often here in my blog; but it has been awhile since I posted, so I thought I'd say it again.  Writing allows me to hash things out, sort the concepts, put them into words that take on a more concrete form that adds definition and then those nebulous vague matters become less intimidating and more reasonable, more manageable, more approachable.  I can tease apart the various threads, examine the strands, and allow them to make sense to me.  Sometimes, this leads to AHA! NOW I see, NOW I get it.  Let me sit with that awhile and let it soak in, so that I really understand it thoroughly.  AHA!

So I started the letter off with my usual inquiries into their current state of mind and being, moving on to address my own.  I said something like, "I'm great for the most part.  The other part of me is mostly good.  A small sliver of that is full of self doubt because I worry about being too much, that I may have been too overwhelming."

That started me off then exploring that set of thoughts, realizing that when I hold myself back, censoring myself for fear that I am too much and might alienate the other person, fearing their rejection which would lead to me feeling hurt and sad...well, when I hold myself back, thinking I am too much, I am not being myself.  I am shaming a part of me into being silent and unseen.  I'm disconnecting myself from accepting and loving myself as I am.  I am denying myself the chance to be the real, authentic, true me.

AND I am not allowing the other person to see the real me.  I am not allowing them to see my authentic self, my true self.  I am also assuming that they cannot handle me in all my too muchness, in all my glory and intensity.  I am not giving them the freedom to make up their own minds and decide whatever they want to.  Instead I am taking that opportunity away from them and deciding for them how they might think or feel.

That's not respectful of them, it's not respectful of me.  It actually is hurtful to us both.  So I'll be me, maybe I might be a tad worried about being vulnerable and allowing the other person to see/judge/reject the real me; but that's the worst case scenario.  They might see me, and accept me, maybe even groove on that aspect of me that I previously thought was too much to allow to be seen.

If they do reject me, it might hurt, yes.  I might be disappointed, true.  I might feel sad for a bit.  But I will have been me.  I will have shown up and allowed myself to be seen.  I will know that I have been my true self.  I will still be me, still have me.  And ya know, there are lots of folks in my life who love me in all my muchness, as I am, right this minute.

So, in the effort to curb my too muchness for fear of rejection, I may have actually brought that about with my then need for reassurance that I was not too much.  See?  What a cycle of self fulfilling prophecy!  It's a bit of self~sabotage that almost crept by me.

It's one thing if the person said, "ya know, I need a lil more space, give me some time, could we slow down and allow me to breathe, to process this, a lil of you goes a long way".  That, I can totally respect and at that point I know how they feel because they have told me; instead of me guessing or assuming that that is how they feel.  If they express something like that, then I can make adjustments if I choose to do so.  That'd be respectful of them and me, both.

It's another thing if I just assume that I am going to bowl them over and lay them flat because I think I may be too much.  That's not allowing me to be me, and it's not allowing them to decide for themselves.  It's not allowing them to know the real me.

Besides, they may like that aspect of me.  Some folks do.

In fact, some folks love that muchness of me, support, encourage, and cheer me on in letting my shine blaze brighter.

"...cuz baby, you just can't dim the sun"

Fitting~In versus Belonging

Brene Brown talks about the difference between fitting~in and belonging.  Fitting in with a group entails you observing the rules, the attitudes, the behaviors, the clothing, the appearances, the speech habits, etc of this group so that you can modify your own appearances so that you are outwardly similar to others in the group.  Fitting in can really separate you from yourself.  You end up denying and shunning, cutting off parts of yourself so that you can fit in.  This makes you more disconnected from yourself, from your full self.

Belonging is the wholehearted true acceptance of you as your authentic true self as you are, as you were, as you are going to be.  When you accept all of you, each part of you, the inner you as well as the outer you, the true you; you are more connected to you, yourself.  It makes you more confident, more able to be the person you are regardless of comparison to others, how others see you, or think you should be.  This makes it much easier for you to be your true self and you accept yourself, it makes it clearer for others to see you for who you are and how you show up and are seen.

This does allow you to find your tribe, for you to build your group of friends who truly accept you, and like you, and feel good around you, and encourage and support you, as you do the same.  But it starts with you accepting you.  Once you truly accept you, you can accept others too.  Like attracts like, so others who are like you will seek you too, not like you as in exactly you, but like you as in accepting of themselves too.

Which leads me to this:

The Weight of Ink

During this past month, I've read quite a few newer books that have made the various book lists of recommended read, best of, and so forth.  NPR has had an annual list of hundreds of titles for years now, but for some reason I've only recently noticed it.  Usually, I don't feel I need recommendations because I always have stacks and stacks that are in this room, that room, the other room, this book shelf, the head board shelves for my bed, on the three cedar chests, and so forth.  These are titles yet to be read, or reread because I loved them so the first time. Or second time.  Or every other time.

Jerry and I make use of our local library's consortium, requesting certain authors' works, or certain titles, or the next in the series, or what have you.  Given the nature of requests, transits, etc, it is not very predictable when which books might be arriving, or if they will be in order, or if they will come at all.  This means that sometimes, I read things out of order, whether that is by publishing date, written date, or series order, which are not necessarily the same things as each other..Terry Pratchett's Discworld series is a fine example of that.

I also listen to a vast amount of audios books, either thru Hoopla, streaming on my home computer, or listening in the car on CD.  Audio books are hard for Jerry to listen to, as he cannot always discern what is being said, versus just hearing a serious of lilting or droning sounds, but not the clear words.  It's too frustrating for him, so while I like Hoopla, Jerry doesn't use it often.  Check into it and see what you think, you might like it or not.  Chances are your local public library offers free access to Hoopla Digital as well.

We also browse thru the local library's free~table and fifty cent room, plus the once monthly Friends of the Library sale.  So our holdings are constantly expanding.  We've things loosely organized, in that way that we have general ideas where things are and yet, not exactly.  You probably can relate.

Then too, I use bookmooch  to list inventory of titles I own and don't mind if I part with.  Sometimes, Jerry and I find titles that we've been wanting to read or own there too.  It's a good service, check it out and see what you think.

Sometimes, I cannot remember why specifically I have requested a certain book, was it on a recommended list?  was the author mentioned in another book, article, list?  what rabbit hole did I pop down and end up with this or that?

Such is the case with The Weight of Ink by Rachel Kadish.  I cannot recall exactly why I had it marked on my wait list on hoopla, but now that I've begun to listen to it, I can tell that I will enjoy it very much.  It's highly detailed, about a subject I am not familiar with, but because it is so well explained and explored, I feel that the author has invited me along on a journey of discovery.  Kadish has proven that she can craft a tale with layers of intricacies.  Corrie James is the reader for this.  She's brilliant here and I can clearly see Maggie Smith as Helen Watt, the stern, precise, elderly, ailing, English historian introduced in the very beginning.

If you are interested in lengthy, dense historical fiction, do give this a try.

Embrace the Suck: yes, the situation is bad; but deal with it anyway.

"Pu'cher big boy pants on and suck it up," my friend used to say.  When I first met her, almost twenty years ago, she was a nurse and I was in awe of her bold, brassy, big personality.  She was outspoken and yet no one ever seemed to take offense to her bluntness.  Often, she would even get a laugh from a medically non-compliant patient, like the most sullen stubborn old man who had been whining about actually asking for help with an injection because he thought he might black out when trying to give himself the insulan.  There were times I'd listen to the low incessant drone of teen complaining about something or other and then clear as a bell, I'd hear her say, "yeah, that sucked, I'm sure; but, did it kill you?"  The momentary shocked silence would shatter when the kid's snort of laughter turned into a fit of coughs and without missing a beat, she'd say, "see?  THIS is why you shouldn't miss a scheduled dose of your meds even if it means looking like a wuss cuz you have to go visit the school nurse.  Oh lort, wouldn't want to go see a nurse now wou'ja?"  I just knew that she would be indicating her own uniform clad self, the blatant irony radiating down the hall from the triage room to the front office.

At the time, I was about to turn thirty; still trying to get my own feet under me so I could stand on my own and not worry about if I offended my partner, parent, friend, etc by expressing my differing opinion.  Still trying to find my own voice; rather, trying to find the strength to use that voice.  Often I'd let a moment of opportunity to voice my own thoughts slip by, because I was silently arguing with my self about whether that thought would be received well.  Eventually I realized that I was asking the wrong questions of myself and considering the wrong priorities.

Now, a year or two shy of fifty, I've got that internal conflict stuff mostly figured out.  Life is good and I rarely am completely paralyzed with anxiety over daily interactions and decisions.  I'm surrounded with good friends, including the bold woman from twenty years ago {who is very much still nursing, tho in a different context now}.  My support network is strong, reliable, and accepting of me.

But it wasn't easy, no stroll in the park getting from there to here {pointing a la Suess}.  I took a lot of punches, fell down lots, tripped over some obstacles, insisted on thrusting my fists against the post until eventually I admitted that perhaps there were better ways to do things that involved lots fewer bruises and other injuries to egos.  I grew up in lots of ways and realized that I was outgrowing some aspects of my life; needing to cut some draining folks and behaviors out of my life and move on.  At the time, it was scary, taking some of those steps, those awkward leaps that required me to leave some devils best known behind and venturing into some new territory that presented new challenges that required me to be brave and vulnerable, feeling the fear, yet doing it anyway.

Then too, there were many aspects that I just had to keep on ploughing thru; tucking my chin to chest and hoping that I didn't get too much shit down my collar.  Some consequences I didn't count on, some that I did that then fell thru.  Then too, there were a few curve balls that came zinging out of nowhere, it seemed, throwing me for not just a few loops, but entirely off course and changed my entire reality.  More than once.

My story is not so unique in the overarching generalities that you lose a few, ya win a few, sometimes the muck sucks, sometimes you're sitting pretty.  Lots of people struggle thru these same sets of obstacles and triumph on the other side.  There is no one path that works for everyone, just as there is no one solution that makes everyone happy.

My story, just as anyone's, is unique in the details.  The key is not to get lost in those details at the wrong times.  At this point in my life, I know without a doubt that this too shall pass and that all things are bearable, even when they seem not to be.  That doesn't mean that it doesn't suck in the moment.  But sometimes, ya have to embrace the suck and do it anyway.

Watch Carefully as POTUS Distracts the People

Power is often tied to a position of authority, such as president, police, or parent.  As a person in that position of authority, you must be cautious in how you wield that power that has been granted to that position.  If you always say, "because I said so" as justification for why others should respect your wishes, you may find that your constituents, community, or children begin to lose respect for you as a person, and also for the position.  Generally, people who abuse the power of the position risk losing respect from others, the very people who gave them that role.

The President of the United States of America has a tremendous amount of power.  Along with great power comes great responsibility.  The person filling that position has a constitutional obligation to see to the best interests of the People as a whole, by presiding over the executive branch of the federal government and by serving as Commander in Chief over the United States' Armed Forces.  There are over four million people actively employed within the executive branch, including those actively serving in the armed forces.

In Trump's blatant current power play of shutting down the government until his demands are met, he is demonstrating that not only is he not presiding responsibly over the executive branch nor the armed forces; but neither is Trump acting in the best interests of the rest of the 327 million People as a whole.  It is not clear to me why we the People continue to allow this man to preside over us.  One tactic that seems be used frequently is that by constantly instigating, inflating, and exaggerating crises, Trump and his ilk create distractions that do not allow any constructive, effective, or beneficial work to be done for, by, and of the People as a whole.

I've never had respect for Trump, as a person.  Yet I continue to respect the position of President.  I yearn for the day when a respectable person is in office once again.