From Despair, Into Action

I enter the end of the Christmas season with the usual lack of Christmas cheer.  The kids will probably be critical of the gifts.  The world is filled with tragedy.  My baking and wrapping skills aren't up to par. A few situations in my life are not getting any better. I feel like I have little power to change one of them, and plenty of power to change the other, but lack motivation.

One of my biggest lurking feelings is a feeling of despair.  Reading the comment threads on subjects related to racism, rape, and homelessness has caused me to reflect on the lack of kindness and compassion that seem to be pervasive in our society right now.  Another things that troubles me is a lack of attention to huge horrible things that happen, like our countries drone program and the fact that the Taliban recently slaughtered 145 people, mostly children.  It seems, we either want to hide our heads in the sand or lash out in 'black and white', us vs. them ways that don't serve any of us.

This feeling of despair is not new to me.  I have felt this 'weight of the world' feeling since I was a small child.  It has not served me well in many ways.  But, it did make me an excellent case worker, someone who had big compassion for my clients and an ability look at solutions.  Being a case worker broke my heart, over and over again.  Seeing a system that was so broken, that did not serve my people in the ways they needed to be served killed me a bit inside.  It left me feeling powerless and burned out.  So, I have taken a break and started writing again, an old love rekindled.

Somehow, I need to learn to turn that despair into action.  Blogging has helped ease my powerless feelings.  It has given voice to my personal experiences while hopefully helping others learn from my past and my insights into my experiences.  In ways, it has helped me combat the powerless feelings that I have when I read hateful comments on Internet threads.  My hope is that maybe in my little way, I am doing my part to combat the hatred, to educate people about things like rape, racism, mental health stigma, domestic violence, and more.  I can only hope that it is better than staying silent about these things and wanting to hide in a cave. (although writing does not always take away that 'hide in a cave' feeling)

This Christmas, I also try to have gratitude to turn around that despair.  Sometimes, this works and sometimes it fails miserably.  Many times, I throw up my hands in hopelessness, feeling like I don't know how to parent or even be much of an adult.  So  many things happened this year in the world 'triggered' me and filled me a sense of powerlessness.   There are days that everything seems freaking crazy and that there is nothing to do but despair.  It's my fall back, I am far from an optimist.

I do see that change happens sometimes.  In my home state of Wyoming, gay marriage is now legal. This is something I would never imagine happening in my lifetime.  We have a religious leader, the Pope, who is talking about deep and important issues regarding class and poverty.  Personally, I see the inherent goodness in people; from rallying around people who have loved ones with cancer to people in recovery helping each other in concrete and helpful ways that change lives. The Black Lives Matter protest movement is working to address systemic issues that pervade our culture regarding race.  We cannot afford to be disheartened because all around us, we see that change can happen, sometimes very slowly, but we cannot give up.

Perhaps my despair is actually a gift that pushes me to speak my truth.  It has inspired me to move, to speak about the issues important to me in my personal and professional life.  My despair has almost killed me, but it has also given me a strength and insight that I would not have without it.

This Christmas, I can look back at all the horrible things that have happened in the world and get completely bogged down, or I can choose to re-commit myself to making change in the ways that I can.  I will choose to re-commit myself to being a better parent, to teaching my kids that the latest, greatest gifts and purchases are much less important than the connections we make with people; that through their gifts of writing, dance and art, they can make changes in the world in their own small ways. I will choose to continue following my passion to speak out through writing about issues that are important to me, particularly about our mental health system and changes that must be made.  I will choose to continue learning to connect with new friends and expand my circle of people to make my world a little more 'large'.  Finally, my hope is that we can all learn to speak out a little more when we see injustice, that we can choose to help, instead of harm, that we can make space in our hearts for the suffering of the world and use our own unique gifts to keep pushing forward and change this crazy world.

A Love Letter to My Dancer

I remember you walking around talking and talking and talking.  Always on the move and always wanting to socialize.  A little bit difficult sometimes for this introvert parent.  But, you gave me a light in my heart that was not there before.  I remember your first dance performance in 4th grade.  You were nervous, and even nauseous before the performance.  I secretly wondered if this really wasn't the 'thing' for you if it made you so ill.  Afterwards, I remember driving home and you were exhilarated.  You loved performing.  You were hooked. 

As time goes on, dance takes more and more of your hours.  I feel like I have 'lost' you sometimes.  My endless talker is gone.  Filling up the few hours at home with homework or sleep.  I feel like a hotel with really good service.  I miss you, my light.

When you started driving, you were gone more and more.  Socializing with your peers and dancing. I know it's all typical for a teenager, but that doesn't make it any easier. 

I wonder if other parents grieve this loss like I do?  The loss of that child who accepted who you were and loved you with all your flaws.  Who would hang out with you and make you laugh and think and grow.  That child turns into a teenager, who would much rather hang out with friends.  That child turns into someone hidden, who does not talk about everything that comes into her head.  That child slowly turns into an adult, naturally separating from her parents. 

It's all part of growing.  That separation.  And watching that growth is beautiful.  I have seen you turn into a leader who is thoughtful and compassionate.  I have seen you embrace art and dance and throw your heart and soul into both of them with passion and creativity.   I have seen you love your friends through hardship.  And, when you do talk to me, I see that you are a deep thinker who truly tries to understand things in a holistic way.  I see your big heart grieve for people going through hardship and reach out to help.  I couldn't ask for more. 

The time does go by in an instant.  And yet, it seems like such a long time ago that you were born after a long night of labor.  When we bonded together alone in that hospital room.  When me, you and Lucy would go on various adventures.  When I would watch your endless trek back and forth across the monkey bars.  When we would play at the lake together.  When we would dance together in the living room before my feet became too screwed up to do that.  When we played games and laughed together as a family.  Some of those things still happen, but it is rarer and rarer.

As you grow and soon leave home, I have to learn who I am apart from being your parent.  I will always be your parent, but the relationship changes.  I have to accept that you are not my little girl anymore.  I have to find my own self apart from you two, my girls.  It's grueling.  This other grief that is not often talked about.  Is it obvious that I have a hard time letting go of almost everything?

You push me to write.  You push me to live, to grow and love.  You push me to think. I hope that I can always be your safe harbor, your resting place, your venting place when the world gets hard.  I hope you can always celebrate your life with me and that we can grow together through this crazy life.  And when I watch you on that stage, I watch in awe.  I created this beautiful person.  This person who can make beautiful art through dance.  This person who can channel her emotions into beautiful pieces of art in all mediums. This person who can lead and love and laugh. Instead, of grieving what I have lost, I will learn to celebrate who you are right now, a young adult passionately launching her way into life.  As I continue to find my own light, your light will always help guide my way. Wherever you are, my heart and my love will always be with you.