Give The Poor Republicans A Break!

So, just real quick...

Can we just pause for a minute to consider the possibility that there are people in this country who vote based on things other than self-interest?

The idea of a poor Republican seems to be an oxymoron for a lot of people. Since the election results came out, I've seen a lot of postings by Democrats and other liberals expressing frustration and sheer bewilderment at the notion that many poor (usually white) Americans tend to vote Republican. The question they all pose is, "Why do these people consistently vote against their own best interest??"

It's not an altogether unreasonable question, but it does make a huge assumption - namely, that people do and SHOULD vote based solely (or at least mostly) on what is in their personal best interest. And to be clear, when they say "best interest", they mean from a financial standpoint (otherwise why bother singling out the poor?).

Some have offered the suggestion that the poor haven't been properly educated as to which party is really "on their side". Maybe they have been bamboozled by white Republican leaders into actually thinking that going red will make their lives easier and more affordable. I feel like I shouldn't even have to explain why this is a far-fetched idea. These people are poor, not clueless. You don't have to be highly educated to know the stereotype that Democrats love poor people and Republicans love rich people, however off-base that may be. It's far more likely that these stereotypes are the ONLY things they've ever heard about either party, and far less likely that they have only ever encountered the opposite idea.

What baffles me is that some of the same people who accuse Republicans of only caring about money can't seem to fathom the idea of people caring about anything other than exactly that when going to the polls.

Give the poor Republicans some credit, people!

Believe it or not, some people (yes, even poor ones) vote based on principles and ideals. You may not like or understand these principles or ideals, but I sure hope we can all at least appreciate the concept of voting based on what you think is right, even if it doesn't make life easier for you personally - even if it actually makes it HARDER.

In my humble opinion, poor people who vote according to their consciences regardless of self-interest are brave, not misguided, and ought to be admired, not patronized.

Hats off to anyone - no matter which party you voted for - who did so because you thought it was the right choice, not because you thought it would make your life easier or cheaper.


*Note: Obviously, the "right" choice and the "easy" choice aren't always mutually exclusive. Sometimes the choice you believe is right also happens to be the easy one. In which case, hooray!

Not Going Anywhere

Since Verity was born I've been wallowing in a bit of a depression. There's something about having a baby that causes me to go through something like grief. And while I can blame at least part of it on physiology and post-pardum depression, I can't pretend like part of it - a substantial part of it - isn't just me.

I know my last post was about depression and it's not something I like to wallow in. C.S. Lewis writes in A Grief Observed, "I almost prefer the moment of agony. These are at least clean and honest. But the bath of self-pity, the wallow, the loathsome sticky-sweet of indulging it - that disgusts me" and I empathize with him completely. But writing about it helps me not to wallow so much, to let at least a part of it go and be done with.

So yeah, part of it is me. I mean, it's been three months now since Verity's birth, how crazy can my hormones still be? The lack of motivation and inability to see the worth of many things isn't unique to my postpartum reality, only reinforced by the lack of sleep. I've always had a serious lack of motivation in my life. On the one hand, I get intense anxiety at the disorganization of my home, but on the other hand, can't seem to muster up the drive to do anything about it. "Why bother," I ask myself, "it's only going to get messy again," or even taking that thought process as far as, "Why do anything significant with my life, I'm just going to die and I can't take it with me."

I have to say though, I am grateful for the grace God has given me to keep making choices. I fought through the confusion and frustration of wanting to pick the "perfect" college, and instead I just picked one already. Instead of dwelling indefinitely in the land of the undeclared, waiting for some magical epiphany to spell out what I was supposed to do with my life, I found that I enjoyed theater and decided to major in it (Well, more accurately, I found that I enjoyed music, theater and dance - although, with the exception of tap, I was no good at that third one - and majored in Integrative Studies, working with my professors to design my own concentration in Performing Arts). I'm someone who looks for signs and affirmations to guide my decisions, but I think the only decision I ever made that truly felt "meant to be" was the decision to marry Bryan. Thank God for that, seeing as it was a pretty important one! Still, there were fears - specifically, that of commitment - that I had to battle through. But I kept battling through them. I started a family. I moved "away from home" - as far away as I could wrap my head around (a whole 45 minutes away), because I'm still not THAT brave yet.

Over the years, I've learned not to let my lack of motivation keep me from making choices and moving forward. But it's still a huge struggle. Surprisingly, or maybe it isn't so surprising to some of you, it's most difficult when it comes to the little things. I think those things are harder for me to see the value in. Even now, I am making a conscious consistent choice to just keep writing, without stopping, despite my lack of real desire, without paying attention to word-choice or anything else really. Because while my conscious self fails to see the use, something in my core seems to know that it's important and good.

This is almost always the case when I write. When I do, it's because something has stirred up thoughts and emotions in me that make me itch, for lack of a better off-the-top-of-my-head description. And while I may not feel that itch a couple hours from now, it will still be there, adding to whatever anxiety I'm already experiencing, since I'm almost always experiencing anxiety in some form or another.

What makes this so hard is that, as unlikely as it may seem, I'm a perfectionist in my own way. Right now it is driving me crazy that I'm not paying attention to word choice or any semblance of weaving my thoughts together in a logical progression. But I don't have the time. I have a baby that I need to jump up and entertain every several minutes and a husband and toddler who will be back any minute from their walk, and if I let these things hold me back, I would never write anything again.

Coming back to A Grief Observed… That is today's "something" that has stirred up my thoughts and emotions. In just the first few pages, Lewis' description of grief is already sounding so like my own that I'm "itching" internally all over (I really wish I had thought of a better word right about now). He got my wheels turning right from the start with "No one ever told me grief felt so like fear" and not long after with, "… I want others to be about me. I dread the moments when the house is empty. If only they would talk to one another and not to me." It reminded me of how much it hit home when I read a Facebook post entitled something like, "What it's like to have an extroverted personality but really be an introvert". In general, but especially when I'm feeling really low, I ache to be surrounded by people and activity, but lack something - the energy, perhaps? - to interact.


That husband and toddler I told you about came back from their walk and I had to take an intermission. I'm not going to worry about picking up where I left off because none of this was ever really going anywhere to begin with. I just had the opportunity to write and I took it. I just took my first real shower in I don't know how long. By "real" I mean I didn't leave out any steps in the interest of time.

Now I'm in my room. Alone. And I actually have some time to spare because the girls are apparently behaving. This happens so rarely. I actually forget what it's like to be alone with other people in the house. What I mean by that is sort of like the experience I was just describing where I left off. Hearing Bryan and the girls downstairs while being able to just be in my room collecting my thoughts is such a peaceful experience for me. I told him the other day that when I have a bad day, it starts to get bad when the girls take their afternoon naps. The house is so deadly quiet that I can't relax. But I can't relax when they're awake either, because they need me. I am most peaceful when I have them all here with me, asking nothing of me. Only then do I seem to then be able to ask nothing of myself. Maybe there's something to that. Maybe I feel like I need the permission of others to just be still. When I was growing up, I never worried about whether there was something I was supposed to be doing. If there was, my parents would tell me. If everyone was home and not asking me to do anything, it felt OK to do nothing.

This is one of the reasons it's so hard for me to pray these days. There are so few moments like these when I can just be still and let the spirit of God blow gently (or not so gently) through me. Or if it is, I'm too busy to notice it. And I'm not sure there's any way around this. But I have to assume God understands, because that's just the way life is.

I spend a lot of time wondering if things will ever be this way again. I'm sure once I'm done having kids and they're all old enough to more or less fend for themselves, aside from the occasional demands for missing clothing items or food, I will have more of these moments. But right now that all seems a very long way off.

I'm not sure how to end a post that was, as I said, never really going anywhere to begin with. I almost don't want anyone reading this because it's so raw and disorganized. I think I'll just post it and not tell anyone. If you happen to stumble upon this post, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen.

"Doing What Makes You Happy" Doesn't, Necessarily...

You have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless, until they can find rest in you.

- St. Augustine

"I don't normally comment on celebrity deaths…"

That's how so many blog and Facebook posts I've read over the past couple of days have begun, and apparently I'm no exception when it comes to the effect Robin Williams' death has had on so many people.

The thing that hit me like a ton of bricks was the realization that (wait for it) pursuing your passion does not guarantee happiness. Certainly not if you struggle with depression at least.

We all know this is true when it comes to money and fame. "Money (and fame) can't buy happiness" is one of those cliches that is engraved into our brains from the time we are young. It's something I guess we all KNOW on an intellectual level, but that doesn't necessarily mean that we really believe it. In fact, reality TV would have us believe the exact opposite. According to the Today Show (aka, scientific evidence), in a recent poll of 5-year olds who were asked to complete the sentence, "When I grow up, I want to be…", the most common response was "rich", followed closely by "famous". (Coming in at third was "a police man", and I'm inclined to wonder how many of those were the kids who had enough savvy to know what kind of an answer they were "supposed" to give.)

I remember that when I was very young, maybe 6 or so? I told my mom I wanted to be an actor. "Oh Theresee," she said, "You don't want to be an actor. Those people have miserable lives." I don't know why, but I never forgot that.

Despite this, and despite knowing that "money and fame don't buy happiness", I majored in Theater in college, because I'm a rebel and because it was my passion.

You see, another idea that has been deeply embedded into my generation is the notion that you should pursue your passion at all costs, aka, "Do what makes you happy." (I think we primarily have Steve Jobs to thank for this one.) The implication is that passion+success=happiness. If you are successfully following your passion, you should be happy, right? Money and fame, while they don't bring happiness in and of themselves, are nonetheless an indication of successfully having followed one's passion.

I think this is the thing that really shocks us and shakes us to our core when someone like Robin Williams takes his own life.

"Sure, money and fame don't guarantee happiness, but he was pursuing his passion! He was doing what made him happy!" And the ironic part is, I have no doubt that he was.

For most of my life I have struggled with depression, panic attacks, and general anxiety. In elementary school, I always felt different from the other kids, although I couldn't tell you why, and still can't, really. When I got to high school, I had my chance to start over. I went to a tiny school where it was easy to stand out, and I quickly learned to be "the class clown" (I have my senior yearbook superlative to prove it). I remember making a conscious decision to stop caring about what people thought, which, on the surface, seems like great advice. "Don't care about what people think" is another popular catch phrase in our society.

The thing is, it really wasn't within my power to stop caring. I couldn't. I honestly don't think anyone can if you are a real, living, breathing human being. Because the fact of the matter is, we are social creatures (yes, even the introverts, though we find it totally annoying) and we need each other. That topic could stand on its own in a separate post, so suffice it to say that the best I could manage was to ACT like I didn't care.

"I don't care that I'm not 'normal' - I'm funny!!"

And I was. It paired perfectly with my flair for acting, because I could constantly be center stage. Specifically, I could be center stage for something other than my crippling fear and insecurity. I could be center stage as someone else - someone I was sure everyone liked much more than they would have liked the real Theresee.

The problem with that was, I loved people. I (gasp) cared what they thought about me. Being funny was simply the only way I could think of to get them to accept me (Mind you, most of these were people I had known my whole life - think REALLY small school - and I still thought I had to get them to like me). But, far from fixing this problem, I was lonely because I was sabotaging any chance of fostering real relationships.

Naturally, this had a not-so-great manifestation in my dating life. I met guys easily enough (who doesn't love a funny girl?), but things always fizzled quickly once the funny wore off and I was faced with having to be, you know, ME. I became painfully aware of this and so developed an alternative strategy for "fitting in": being pretty (I hear you laughing, and I know where you live). Being naturally skinny, it wasn't too hard since society has groomed us to believe that this is the primary element of beauty. Throw in a blow-dryer and some makeup and presto! Pretty. But this always backfired on account of I cannot be bothered to have perfect hair and makeup 24/7/365. Also I have no butt, but that's a cross I must bear.

I have to admit, awful as it is, that there have been many, many times when Bryan and I have gotten into an argument, and I have genuinely believed that he does not love me. And it isn't because of anything he's done. Everyone messes up sometimes and hurts people they love. But in my case, I was always waiting. Waiting for the other shoe to drop and for him to prove what I'd certainly known all along: That I was unlovable.

As a Christian, I've often heard it said that two of the main lies the devil tells us are, "You are not lovable" and "You are incapable of loving others". God knows how many times I've bought into both.

I've been speaking in the past tense, but this is all still very much a part of my everyday reality. In fact, when the news broke about Robin Williams' death, I was in the middle of a bout of depression (OK fine, I still am), and had been blaming my unhappiness on my failure to follow my passion. If only I'd tried harder when I was pursuing acting or radio in college! I think timing is everything, and the reason Robin Williams hit home in a way that Richard Seymour Hoffman hadn't had everything to do with what I was experiencing mentally and emotionally at the time.

So I guess if this has any kind of a moral, it would be firstly, that passion only gets you so far without love. As it turns out, they aren't the same thing. Secondly, not caring about what other people think is not the solution, nor is it a particularly realistic goal. For most of us, the best we can do is to try not to let it dictate the way we live. It certainly should not be the way we measure our success, however you may define that. Lastly, be compassionate to the funny people in your life. To throw in one last cliche, chances are, they aren't laughing on the inside and are self-conscious about having no butt.

As backward as it sounds, I'm thankful to Robin Williams (and this article by David Wong) for giving me pause to confront my demons in a way I never have before. I can only hope that it will motivate me and other people who struggle in this area - those of us who, no matter how successfully we pursue anything, will probably always ask, "Is this all there is?" - to keep moving forward on the journey of self-discovery. Because, well… The more you know.

Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him.

PS: Check out that David Wong article. Really.

PPS: I'm pretty much certain that reading this is going to make all of you stop liking me, without exception. It's the nature of the beast.

Why I Haven't Left the Catholic Church

Recently, I received a text from a friend asking for my input on a dilemma she's been having. Her story is not an unfamiliar one: She was raised Catholic, but, like many others, has come to question her faith as an adult, especially since becoming a parent. Understandably, she doesn't want to pass on a particular belief system to her children simply because it is the one she was raised with. She told me that her daughter hadn't been baptized since she and her husband weren't sure whether they were going to raise her Catholic. She asked if I would explain to her why I've decided to be a member of the Catholic Church specifically, as opposed to another denomination or no denomination at all. Since I've been a lazy blogger lately, I figured I could kill two birds with one stone and share my response with you.

*Disclaimer (of course I need a disclaimer, it's the 21st century!): The following is an email, not an essay. I wrote it in the span of about 30 minutes - as quickly as I could while my daughter was distracted, which never lasts for long. So if you're looking for some nitty-gritty theology with a thesis, supports and footnotes, you're gonna be looking for a long time. There's a lot more I could have said but didn't simply because there wasn't time. This email was meant to defend Catholicism specifically, not Christianity as whole (In other words, I don't try to explain why I believe in the resurrection, the deity of Jesus, etc.). It is not meant as an attack on other denominations. I'm proud to have been raised in and remained a part of an ecumenical Christian community and I am a big supporter of Pope Francis' devotion to Christian unity.

Without further ado, I give you "Why I Haven't Left the Catholic Church"...

Hello at last! I'm gonna try and answer your questions as well as I can with Sophie running around trying to get my attention. Obviously this is an important topic so I wanna make sure I'm not skimping on anything...

First, real quick, about the whole Baptism thing... The way I see it, is that even if you aren't sure whether you believe it actually does her any good, it certainly won't do her any harm. Worst case scenario, it does nothing for her, but you get to have a nice celebration of her life with friends and family (and hopefully get some gifts/money out of the whole thing, haha!). And those members of your family who are still practicing Catholics will be happy and peaceful. Best case scenario, you get all that plus some special graces from God! Almost everyone does some kind of version of Baptism whether they are people of faith or not (Usually they call them Dedication Ceremonies for people who aren't faith-based), so why not do the same for her and not worry too much about the fact that it's a Catholic one? Anyway, that's just my two cents on that.

The question of why I'm a Catholic is a pretty big one. I think it's easier to answer the question of why I haven't LEFT. I went through a stage in college where I felt like it was enough to just be a Christian and not a Catholic, but here are some things that ultimately made me decide to stick with Catholicism:

- It's the only denomination that can't be traced back to anyone except Jesus (i.e., Martin Luther started the Lutherans, John Smyth founded the Baptists, etc.)

- Very few institutions in history have survived as long as the Catholic Church. I'm a big believer in the saying, "The proof is in the pudding". In other words, results speak louder than doubts. In the case of Catholicism, the fact that it has not only survived so long, but survived in spite of all the persecution and doubt that it's had to battle, convinces me even more that it has something real to offer. 

- There are definitely teachings that I don't understand, but I've come to realize that that's OK. I don't understand most of the things my doctor does, but I still trust him with my life (literally) because I understand that he's the expert, not me. Are there doctors who screw up sometimes, even BIG time, even costing some people their lives? Yes. But that's not because science and medicine are flawed, it's because the doctor is a human being and human beings are all flawed. We would never decide to abandon medicine because there are some bad doctors out there. And no one would ever say that they refuse to see a doctor until they understand everything the doctor does, because that would require going to med school yourself, which would be ridiculous. I look at church leaders the same way. Do they screw up sometimes, even BIG time? Yes. But that isn't because the faith is flawed, it's because church leaders are human beings and are flawed just like the rest of us. I wouldn't abandon the faith on account of some bad leaders. And I'm not going to refuse to commit to Catholicism until I understand everything about it (That would take years and years!) The good news is that, while a bad doctor can cost you your life, a bad church leader doesn't have to cost you your soul, because God is merciful and knows your heart, and Christ has already won the victory over sin and death through the resurrection (That whole concept isn't unique to the Catholic denomination either). 

- While I can see why people have trouble with the symbolism and statues and sacraments, etc... I see it very differently. I don't see it as idolatrous or distracting. To me it's just the opposite. God made us physical beings. He didn't have to do that, but he did. So to say that physical manifestations of faith - such as the sacraments, statues, candles, incense, and all the jazz - to say that those are idolatrous and distracting doesn't really add up for me. Can people use them that way? Of course (again, flawed human beings!). But we flawed human beings can find a way to distort pretty much any good thing. In reality, every other denomination has its own physical manifestations, even if it's just the simple fact that they worship in physical buildings, have ceremonies, use musical instruments... We can simplify things as much as we want, but at the end of the day, we are literally incapable of worshipping in a way that is purely spiritual, because WE are not purely spiritual (and neither is God, for that matter!). And we certainly cannot live the Gospel in a way that is purely spiritual, because to neglect the physical needs of people would be to directly disobey Christ. The sacraments and such have always served to make me feel closer to God because I AM a physical being, and so IS Jesus. It's like keeping photos of your loved ones around the house, doing a toast in honor of someone who can't be there with you in person, or hanging onto the belongings of family members who have passed away. It keeps me grounded and humble.

- I almost forgot... MIRACLES! You just can't find them anywhere else the way they appear in Christianity (all denominations), but especially in the Catholic Church. All the incorruptibles, apparitions, stigmata... Even if you don't believe that ALL of them are legit, it's pretty hard to make the case that ALL of them are lies. If you research into it a bit, it really will blow your mind the kinds of things that have happened!

And there you have it. Later on I may post a Part 2: my follow-up email with thoughts on Mass being boring.

Breakdown

Ok, I realize two posts in one day is beyond self-indulgent, but I'm gonna play the pregnancy card because I really need to have a good virtual cry...

Today I had a mini breakdown. It hit me when I got the mail and found FOUR bills (two from two different billers) that we had already taken care of (or so we thought) over the phone. The root of the confusion lay in the fact that we had moved and so our property taxes are all screwed up. ANYWAY, the point is, we've been on the Dave Ramsey diet and working really hard at it, and after finally just having established our emergency fund, we're already going to have to dig into almost half of it - either that, or go through a series of phone calls that we'd already made previously trying to fix this mess, which frankly, I'm too pregnant to bother with and Bryan is too wound up with the transition from Apple to his new job (which I now realize I have COMPLERELY neglected to announce on either of my blogs - tune in next time I guess). 

The bill thing came on top of three straight days of heartburn, by which I mean after EVERY BITE or SIP of ANYTHING I chose to consume. Water, bread, snacks, doesn't matter. Swallowing = Pain this week. 

Bills and heartburn were on top of several days of crazy back pain and difficulty breathing, courtesy of trimester #3. And according to my 28 week email update, from here on out I should be expecting to gain another POUND A WEEK until the baby arrives, which can only mean more discomfort and pain. 

Insomnia had also reared its ugly head. The kicker is, I can't fall back on my reliable friend Tylenol PM too often since you're not supposed to take aspirin on the regular during pregnancy. Which prompts me to ask... Any suggestions?? 

And while I'm asking favors, anyone wanna borrow a 17 month old who's going through some personal stuff? Anyone? Cuz that's happening too. Today she had a total meltdown when I took the pen away and did one of those 5-seconds-between-inhale-and-exhale moments that nearly made me utilize mouth-to-mouth, and I am in no way CPR qualified. 

Anyway, I was pretty much just an emotional wreck for the above and other reasons I won't bore you with, but I will say this... Dumping this much on you makes all the difference in the world, and we all know that all the pregnancy woes are just paving the road to delivery joy, so ultimately, I guess I'm pretty lucky to have any woes to dump on you all.

I'll leave you with that delicious little slice of optimism. Goodnight!

Possible Issues

Food for thought - just a quick bite before I start some semblance of a productive day... 

Why is it, that while most people only pray when things are going badly, I do just the opposite? The only time my prayer life only seems to be even vaguely consistent is when everything is going well for me. Maybe it's because I feel like I have it all together and can now afford to indulge in the luxury of a prayer time without being distracted for worrying about the million other undone things on my list. 

Mostly though, I think it's that, when we pray, we are forced to get REAL, and who wants to get REAL when things are crappy? Not I, apparently. 

Note to self: Look into possible issues with denial.

what if i can't keep swimming?

when you're someone who struggles with depression, you never know when and where it's going to hit, even if you've been in a good place for a long time. it can still blindside you and smack you like a ton of bricks when you least expect it.

when it comes to struggles in life, i've always adopted the "this too shall pass" mentality. baby steps. or as one of my favorite bloggers, glennon melton, likes to say, "just keep doing the next right thing one day at a time." on the really bad days, i literally have to tell myself, "baby steps, get out of bed... baby steps, brush your teeth..." and so on and so forth for each little activity i encounter that day. just keep swimming, just keep swimming... i take my baby steps and remind myself "this too shall pass" again and again throughout the day until it's over.

of course, with depression, "when it's over", it's really just beginning. because nights are the worst. that's when you have to stop swimming and the floodgates open and all hell unleashes itself on your head and heart. sleep is a joke at that point.

and you don't know WHEN it's going to pass. how long will it hurt this time? hours? days? weeks? it becomes incredibly more difficult to console yourself with "this too shall pass" when you don't know when. it's not like getting through a particularly crazy day at work on little sleep. on those days, you can tell youself, "just eight more hours... five more hours... three more hours..." but when you're depressed, all you can really tell yourself is, "just keep swimming" and hope and pray that you're swimming towards something CLOSE.

so, on this day, when all i want to do is go out and buy a pack of camel crushes and a bottle of scotch and hide in the shower with them until i've played the entire "black sails" album... i have a kid that needs caring, another on the way, and a life that needs living. oh, and a job that needs doing. just as soon as i hit "publish".

no one is going to do those things for me, so for now, it's time for this girl to keep swimming and keep doing the next right thing.

now. baby steps, fax that liability insurance form...