All It Takes Is A Little Love

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m feeling a few too many emotions all at once these days. I’m attempting to juggle so many balls that they are mostly coming down too rapidly to handle. They thump me on my head right and left. As the control freak that I am, being so out of sorts feels miserable and yet I am beginning to learn how to just survive from one day to the next. 

I thought that changing my lifestyle to care for my father-in-law was the ultimate sacrifice. For a time I did it with optimism and a smile on my face. It felt good to be doing nice things for someone else but the days, then months, then years have dragged on and I have not enjoyed the freedom that was once mine. I am mostly tied to my home and a daily schedule and I am getting a case of travel fever that makes me surly and not the kind of person I strive to be. My heart wants to be good but a voice in my head tells me that I need a break. I’ll have to start working on that.

Just when I was drowning in a kind of self pity another challenge came my way. With my husband’s cancer diagnosis my days now include so many visits to the Medical Center that the people there wave at me as though I am an old friend who comes to visit regularly. Everyone is kind and lovely and I appreciate beyond words that my husband is getting healthier with each passing day, but It is an added worry to the ones that I already had and my personality is such that I become totally devoted to being a helper whenever I am needed. It might have been easier to meet so many demands in a kinder time but the world seems to be on fire and my tendency is to fret over people that I do not know who seem to be in trouble. 

I have not forgotten the good citizens of Ukraine and the battle that continues relentlessly for them. I think of the warring in the Middle East and wonder if the people in that region will ever fully know peace. I feel great concern for my own nation which seems to be as divided as it has ever been. I wonder if I will witness a sense of unity and purpose in what remains of my lifetime. Such things keep me up at night as I consider what I might do to bring about change.

A cousin that I love is battling cancer as well. Hers is a return of an illness that she thought she had overcome. Her diagnosis is more frightening than my husband’s and yet I find myself drawing inspiration from her as she maintains her optimism and faith. My admiration for her is indescribable and I do my best to emulate her calm and goodness. There is so much irony in the fact that the person who is so sick is having to make the rest of us feel better.

Learning that a long time friend just died has done little to soothe the beast that seems to be roaring inside my heart particularly in the dark of night. I will miss her dearly. She was a beautiful sounding board who had a way of helping me understand that my jumble of feelings are normal and not a bad thing at all. She was wise and bold and someone who seemed to understand that sometimes it’s more than okay to let our feelings go freely into the open. Hers was a safe space for me to be me. I was never afraid that she would think badly of me. Hers was a beautiful gift that she shared with so many. Little wonder that everyone refers to her as an angel.

I suppose that my mother had a point when she called me a control freak. I do like to keep a sense of order in my world. I don’t do well when things fray and fall apart. I try to keep daily routines that assure me that everything is going to be okay. I keep a stiff upper lip and stay as calm as I can so that I might carry on. I suppose that I should understand by this point in my life that sometimes I just have to let things go and float along with the wind. 

I’ve found myself gravitating to people like my friend, Lissa, who does not appear to worry in the least what others may think of her. In fact she tends to dare folks to criticize her. She speaks her mind without filters and when you are with her you always know how things stand. She is my hero because she has truly overcome any inclinations to sacrifice her true self to impress others. I suppose that I on the other hand am still trying to be a people pleaser and doing so can be exhausting. You’d think that I would know by now that not being able to do all things for all people really is okay.

I have little doubt that I will get through this moment in time. By this point in life I already understand that ups and downs are a normal part of living. I just feel a bit too dumped on at the moment but I will adapt. I’m particularly good at figuring out how to keep moving forward. In the grand scheme of things my trials are trivial compared to so many. The outlook for my future is good, something that can’t be said for many situations in the world today. I tell myself to choose what I can do from day to day and stop worrying so much about the things over which I have no control. I will just keep pushing forward and hoping for brighter days for the many people and reasons that worry me. 

I suspect that there is an epidemic of anxiety in the world right now. There seem to be too many leaders who seem to think that the panacea that we all need is massive change and aggression. I look forward to quieter times across the globe but sense that upheavals will continue. I need to take care of what I can and be honest like Lissa when I need a break. The haul is long and running at top speed will exhaust anyone. The long run lies ahead and I hope to be ready for whatever pops into my pathway. I hope that everyone else feels that way as well.

Take care everyone. Together we have this. Let’s not forget to ask each other for help when we need it. My cousin and my friends have taught me this important lesson.

I sometimes look in the mirror and wonder who the old lady staring at me might be. I’ve definitely been around for awhile. I’ve done a lot and seen a lot in my many years on this earth. I’m mostly proud of what I have accomplished but the first to admit that I made mistakes along the way. Like most people I’ve been getting up everyday hoping to make a positive difference in the world but knowing that my reach is rather limited. I’ve had dreams that never came to fruition and enjoyed experiences that I never expected to happen. Life has a way of being routine until it isn’t and in those surprise moments things both good and bad have rocked my world.

Like my parents and the adults who had the most impact on me I am very much a live and let live kind of person. I cherish my faith but would not ever want to argue with others about theirs. Some things are very personal and none of anybody else’s business. Religious beliefs are quite private and sacred in my thinking. Each of us makes choices about what to believe or not believe and that is the way that it should be. I despise those who get pushy in the name of their chosen God. I am much more impressed with moral behaviors that lead me to want to know what has moved such people to be so good. 

The same has mostly been true about politics. I’ve voted in many different ways depending on how the winds were blowing at a certain time. I’ve never totally agreed with any politician but I have liked some more than others. For most of my life I had no idea how friends and members of my family were voting and I had no desire to find out. I was content to hold my own points of view and be assured that others had the ability to hold theirs. 

It has only been in recent times that I have found myself worrying about the stability of the Untied States. My biggest concern has been the concerted effort by the present administration to demand that all citizens comply with his thinking or face the consequences of not doing so. Never in all of my years have I felt so compelled to make my views clear and to push back against the efforts to control how Americans think and act. This flies in the face of my belief that each of us has the right and the liberty to be ourselves.

I’m not talking about breaking laws or doing harm to people or property. I simply mean that I am concerned about efforts to infuse a kind of national religion and political stance into our public spheres. I’ve read enough history to know that creating state supported beliefs leads to persecution of those whose values do not comply. In truth my religious beliefs are more than likely to be acceptable to those pushing Christian Nationalism but that is not the point for me. I don’t think it is healthy or desirable to ever in anyway bring force into the running of our government, our schools and our public places. It is crucial to respect the differing views of all people, not just a chosen few.

The same is true in the many restrictive laws that Congress is approving with glee that are totally unnecessary. They seem to be intended to restrict any kind of lifestyle that differs from what they consider to be normal. The problem with that is attempting to determine what is normal. As far as I am concerned I don’t care what anyone does in their private lives as long as it does not hurt others. I don’t think it is wise to create a puritanical worldview as a way of controlling Americans. My experience as an educator warns me that invoking too many restrictive rules always leads to revolt even in a classroom. Long ago a very wise principal taught me that when there are too many rules with too many strict consequences chaos ensues. Boy was she right!

It’s time for our nation to refocus on issues that are important, not the pet projects of a single party. We can’t afford to be going back and forth with laws and rules that in reality accomplish little other than pleasing certain people or groups. It’s time to look at the big picture and the huge tent of many varieties of thinking and believing. It’s time we find ways to come together, not by force but by the desire to live together in harmony without degrading or ranking each other. 

I long for the days when I was only mildly irritated by laws that seemed unnecessary. I wish for a return to calmness in our political arena. It is time for cooler heads to lead the way by understanding that thuggish attempts to force ways of living on one another never ever results in peace on earth and goodwill toward men. It’s time we all understood that law and order comes naturally when we all agree to let me be me and you be you. 

Living in the United States of America has given us the freedom to choose the direction of our lives. There have been times nonetheless in which fate chooses for us. In my own case I have encountered situations which spun me around one hundred eighty degrees from where I had been. The death of my father when I was eight was surely one of those moments when my world turned upside down. Later when my mother showed the first signs of her mental illness I changed course once again. Luckily I was able to use those challenges to become a better person. I set a new course each time that I have been called to take actions that I had not before considered. I learned to adapt to my the new reality. 

Such is no doubt true for everyone. We have all experienced differences between our dreams and the unfolding of unexpected events that forced us to choose new ways of surviving. How we react in such moments all too often depends on our willingness to adapt and our determination to make the most of a difficult situation. The world demands us to make choices that we might never have imagined. 

I’m certain that in the era of my grandparents nobody expected the tragedy of World War I, the deadly Spanish flu outbreak, or the devastation of the Great Depression. Everyone had to dig into their souls and find the courage to make the best of situations that they would never have wanted to happen, but did. They found ways to survive grave uncertainty and loss in times that they rarely discussed as they grew older. They left those times in the past and celebrated the joys of the moment rather than reliving the pain.

It is a human tendency to look forward rather than backward and yet we all might learn from studying the past. When we review our actions after the fact we realize our strengths and weaknesses as well as what we managed to do right and what we did wrong. Thinking about such things is not a form of self harm, but instead a wonderful way of being ready for challenging issues in the present. or the future. 

My parents were from the World War II era. That conflict colored much of their thinking. They understood the dangers of fascism and proudly spoke of their efforts and those of their countrymen to free people of the world suffering under the thumb of dictators. They spoke of the young men leaving high school classrooms to enlist in the military. They remembered rations of food and other items essential to the war efforts. They felt heroic in doing what they believed to be the right thing. It was not something that they had planned in their youth. Such historical moments are rarely even imagined until they come. 

My generation of Baby Boomers witnessed great upheaval from the mid nineteen sixties to the end of that decade. It was a time when we often chose sides. Some went to war in Vietnam, others protested the injustices of the war. Some marched in civil rights protests, others shouted, “America, love it or leave it!” Those years changed us and in many ways silently estranged us in ways that hid themselves under the surface until they were brought to the fore once again by a man intent on taking us all back to a time that he believes was far better than the one into which we have evolved. In doing so he has opened wounds and anger that many like me thought were a thing of the distant past. In the process he has created another historic moment in which I feel the need to once again make choices that feel uncomfortable but necessary. 

At the age of seventy six I lack the energy that I once had and would prefer to live out the rest of my years peacefully, but I suspect that there have always been older people caught up in the inevitable roar of history that rarely considers age. While simply looking away is actually a choice, it is not a viable one for me. I cannot pretend that I believe that all will turn out well if I just ignore the damage whirling around me. i know full well that my only course is to choose a side and take a stand, not so much for me but for the future of my country and all of its people, most particularly the young.

I admit to being afraid of what may happen down the road. I sense that I have been chosen to persist in speaking for those who are being harmed in the moment and for those who may find themselves in trouble in the future. I pretend that I am unaware of the abuse of our Constitution that our president is inflicting on this nation. I cannot be silent about the masked thugs in unmarked cars rounding up people based only on the differences in appearance and culture that make them targets. I have to call out wrongs along with other patriotic American citizens who are doing so. I can’t just hope that with enough patience all of the chaos will go away. My instincts and observations tell me that this is a very different time in which we have to act or we will one day not recognize the country we have so loved. 

I know that I am only a tiny voice that is only heard by a small number of people, but I like to think that our numbers can grow as long as we one by one by one raise the alarm before we all are silenced. Already our president is threatening journalists who state facts, speak truths and question his methods. He is filling his press conferences with those who flatter him. He has surrounded himself with those who do not dare to question any of his demands. His party of Republicans fawn over him and the Supreme Court is surrendering more and more power to him, making a mockery of the three branches of government affirmed by the Constitution. 

It is time to find our voices because surely there is enough evidence to alert us to the many dangers that lie ahead if we remain silent. The time is now. We have been chosen for this moment. Will we answer the call?

I know a bit about what depression looks like. My mother suffered from bipolar disorder and whenever the depressive aspect of that illness hit her she seemed to fade away as a person. Her usual optimism turned into a morose fear of everything and everyone around her. She would close her blinds and pull her drapes shut, creating an oppressive darkness even on a sunny day. She and her home became disheveled and she would cry for reasons that even she was not able to explain. Her depression was clinical, the result of a disease that overtook her capacity to cheer up. Without medication she sank deeper and deeper into a morass of unexplained darkness. 

Mama’s doctors had to be careful because her bipolar disorder had two sides. Left untreated the depression would eventually advance into a manic euphoria that was even more dangerous than her sadness. When she reached part two of her illness she felt invincible but her ideation was reckless and fueled by an inability to stop the racing of her brain. She was unable to sleep or to concentrate on even the simplest of tasks. Her speech was rushed and the words she strung together made little sense. When she was out and about she sometimes frightened people who did not know her. How were they to understand that she was a gentle soul even in her moments of great sickness of the mind? 

Hers was an extreme malfunction of her brain that most times could be remedied with psychotropic medications. Sadly finding the ones that worked was tricky and often her body would adjust to what seemed to be the perfect fix only to leave her and her doctors searching for yet another remedy. Her treatments all too often left her with side effects that worried her like gaining weight even though she ate like a bird. Sometimes her legs would swell or her tongue would begin to twitch. Then is was time to once again try something new. Little wonder that she often grew weary of the chronic battles and tossed her medications aside only to repeat the worst renderings of her disease over and over again in the forty plus years when bipolar disorder stalked her. 

When my mother was doing well she became her old self again, her true self. She was kind and delightful to be around. There have been few people on this planet as generous and thoughtful as she was. She spent her days and what little money she had making people happy even as many of her old friends and acquaintances drifted away, wary of encountering her in the midst of a bipolar meltdown. 

I have not known many people as truly religious as my mother was. She read her Bible daily and lived the truest Christian life possible. She never judged anyone, even those who had wronged her. She was filled with the kind of love and generosity that Jesus Himself would have appreciated. She believed that all people had value and so too did their beliefs. She was quite respectful of differences and urged me and my brothers to follow her example in so unconditionally loving the people around us. 

Those who knew my mother well and who stayed with her even in the toughest times understood that her bipolar disorder did not define her. They realized her intelligence, her wisdom and her clear understanding of people. I remember my father-in-law’s second wife gushing that she and my mother “got each other.” She commented that few people were as perceptive as my mom. 

My husband’s mother also had high praise for Mama. She told me at one time to always remember that my mom was one of the most extraordinary people to ever walk on the earth. I suppose that I always knew that but I would become so frightened when my mother was really sick and my frustrations would focus on the mask of her illness rather than the essence of her soul. I needed those reminders from people to keep from only seeing the horror of her disease. 

I was admittedly weary by the time my mother died at the age of eighty four. I had been attempting to keep her in a state of good mental health for over forty years by then. It had been sometimes overwhelming and exhausting even with the help of my two brothers who also championed her cause. It was most amazing and miraculous that her mind was as clear as it had ever been in the last hours of her life. There was no sign whatsoever of the horrific disease that that stalked her for so long. The mother who was saying goodbye to us was the beautiful gracious tower of strength who had guided and protected us through our childhood. Having her fully with us was a gift from God Himself. 

I am still an advocate for those with mental illness. As a society we are quite far from fully supporting  and understanding the individuals who are afflicted with such diseases of the mind. They all too often become isolated and spurned rather than loved and appreciated. We lose our patience with them and turn our back on their suffering. I would like to believe that one day miracles would take place for them much as they have for those with heart disease or cancer. For the sake of incredible people like my mother we have to keep urging society to invest in keeping good people well. We will all benefit from having them healthy among us. 

Mama was oft misunderstood but somehow she never allowed the ugliness of others to change the beauty that was so much a part of her heart. Look for the others among you who will do so much better if you stick with them rather than turning away. They need our love and our support.

My mother possessed a most interesting appearance. Her hair was a raven colored black that she never needed to dye even as she lived into her eighties. Her eyeswere a deep brown like a just brewed cup of coffee. He skin was an olive hue that grew darker whenever she spent time in the sun. She was an exotic beauty who often confused people when they attempted to determine her race or nationality. 

A Jewish friend insisted that Mama was descended from one of the tribes of Israel. A Black neighbor wondered aloud why so many white people came to visit my mom. Italians compared her to Sophia Loren. People from the Middle East commented that she must surely have had ancestors from their neck of the woods. She was a chameleon who some people thought resembled Queen Elizabeth. She joked that she should have been a character actress because she could have been made to look like hundreds of different people. 

Perhaps the strangest thing about my mother’s appearance is that it contrasted so amazingly with her sisters. They all boasted blonde hair and blue eyes. One might have thought she was adopted save for the fact that she looked very much like her brothers. Whatever the case she always reminded me that you can’t really tell where someone originated simply by looking at them. Each person is indeed unique and a combination of many different iterations of DNA. To classify a person simply on outward features is to miss the importance of celebrating the beautiful variety of people on this earth. 

I suspect that if my mother had grown up in Europe and under the control of the Nazis during Hitler’s regime she might have caught the eye of someone wondering if she belonged in one of the camps set aside for Jews and Gypsies and individuals who were deemed unfit to pollute the gene pool. If they had been privy to today’s genetic information they would have realized that she indeed had a tiny bit of Eastern European Jew in her background. Would that have made her a candidate for being sent away from the rest of society? Would her bipolar disorder have been noted resulting in her death at the hands of grotesque individuals?

I have been thinking more and more of such things now that people seem to be randomly scooped from the streets of our cities simply because they appear to share the physical qualities of Hispanics. She certainly had many of those characteristic features so it would not be far fetched to think that someone might turn her in as a prospective illegal. Of course she would have been able to ultimately prove that she was born here in the United States but her mother was an immigrant who never became a citizen. Would the current administration question whether birth gave my mother the right to enjoy all of the perks of being a citizen? 

We talk about laws and rules but rarely get down to the worth of each individual. I know that a truly religious person should value every person who walks on this earth but sadly many who profess to be devout Christians find little or no fault in targeting anyone who has dark features or an accent or the inability to speak English as someone who must be sent away. They are eager to push such people from our country no matter how that is done. They do not seem to view the people being targeted as individuals much like themselves who only want the opportunity to work and be free. Those are after all qualities after which most of us aspire. 

I saddens me that my Puerto Rican father-in-law now carries his passport with him at all times as proof that he has been an American citizen from the time he was born. He constantly points out that he is whiter than some people with Nordic features. It is as though people have somehow taught him that looking white provides advantages that even dark people like my mother may not have received. I wonder why in the twenty-first century we are still placing a value on the shade of a person’s skin or the language that they speak. Surely we are advanced enough to understand that such differences from person to person are trivial and actually make the world so much more interesting than if than if we all looked and behaved exactly the same. 

I long for a time which I will probably never see in which we see the beauty of every single person. I think of how much happier everyone would be if we just stopped comparing and making judgements about each other. Taking the time to get to know someone is so much better than ranking folks on trivial characteristics. My mother was beautiful just as she was and she never had to be this or that for everyone to see that it was so. We are all beautiful and that should not be so hard to see.