Remember Archie Bunker?

Does it seem to you that Archie is back in spirit all over facebook?

I am blessed to know a lot of people from times in my life when I sought Christianity as a refuge from troubles that seemed too big for me to contain within myself. Death of a parent, trauma from the experiences related to growing up in a home that provided love but also a lot of violence and emotional turbulence. My Dad's brain tumor altered his behavior greatly. A lot of his behaviors that were not good became amplified with the brain tumor and he hurt people. He was violent. My mom tells me she went to our larger extended family for help and that they called her a liar because he was their brother. My mom often said that her parents couldn't help because there were a lot of kids and they were both heart patients. She felt she had no one to turn to until my dad's brain tumor progressed to the point that he was dying. She said that is when the flood of people came in to help him but not her. The priest who was originally sought as a comfort and spiritual guide to my parents developed a romantic relationship with my mom which lasted 20 years. It's my belief that a lot of what happened during those years was not just a little but very abusive and that the priest chose my mom to be his victim because the trauma she experienced in the years before he met her made her easy to manipulate. My mom says he was our savior because he gave our family a lot of money that he had access to from the church. She says it was love. When I was in my twenties and one of my siblings told me to stand up and report the physical, verbal and alleged sexual abuse that was going on in my home, I did. I have not been forgiven for that. I more recently tried to apologize to anyone I hurt during that time if what I said was not my story to tell. I realize now that people can be deeply hurt by well intentioned actions just as much as inaction. I was raised to believe, though that not standing up for a person who is being injured was the worst betrayal you could commit. It was what my mom's closest loved ones did when she was being beaten sometimes with objects like a broken chair or thrown down a flight of stairs. It was what happened when my mom said my dad put me on his lap and let me hug him as he kicked my brother in the head and made him watch what it was like for me to earn his love and know that he didn't have the same love from his dad. These are the stories I was raised with and while I was too young to recognize as a toddler or young child what was going on around me, I did feel later at the age of twelve that I had been tricked into loving my dad who was really a monster. I didn't know at first that what the priest in our lives, (Father Tebes) was doing was as emotionally harmful if not moreso. I still feel the fracture very deeply and it causes me great pain. I don't have allies in my family who understand. I have some who love me even if they don't understand. That feels like an awful lot. Just this week, another sibling posted a picture of our family with the priest on my facebook page. That was something. I've been called a liar and a crazy person and a manipulative bitch. I guess if you know anyone long enough, you know their triggers. Some of the people in my family really seem to like to go after my triggers.

I was proud of myself, though for not reacting strongly to the photo on my page. I simply waited a few days, noted that I thought it was strange and my sister immediately removed the picture without explanation. No 'f' bombs or anything. Maybe we are growing! I no longer believe that she means to hurt me with those actions. She either has such deep denial about watching me be hit, slapped, kicked, spit at and called a 'cunt', 'whore' and 'bitch' by the person whose picture she posted on my wall or she has a deeper feeling that I deserved all that and should be happy to see his face. Either way, I can only pray that by not tolerating that behavior but also not letting it hurt me--she will see that love is stronger. Love from the people in my life now lifts me out of the pain of memories like the ones she triggered with her photo from our past. I believe that's something that should offer her hope and not create bitterness. How she sees it--well, that's up to her.

All of that is background. It is what is triggering my thoughts about Archie Bunker. I bring it up because my sense is that back in the 70's--people didn't care about voicing their bigotry like Archie. That was how people behaved back then. And now? Seems like that sort of behavior has hit a new sort of popularity. People on tv, the radio and on fb seem to embrace the free speaking ways of political candidates like Donald Trump and those who call themselves his trumpeters. It feels like the new bigotry is aimed at the poor, the undocumented workers in this country and those who are transgender or homosexual. I'm finding myself experiencing a lot of the memories from the 70's that made me very much against watching people be victimized. I want to do something to know that I have at least voiced my objections. I voted for Bernie. I will vote for Hillary if Bernie doesn't become the nominee. The only other thing I know to do is challenge people respectfully when I read or hear them proclaiming that they know God wants us to behave in divisive ways toward others. What god wants that?

Lately, the subject of public bathrooms creates concern. I don't think I am alone in thinking that fears about men and women of any sexual persuasion sharing bathrooms take their root in a more general xenophobia. I read a few posts today just as I was waking up from a fitful sleep (insomnia often accompanies my attempts to sleep at night in part because the medication I take for depression causes insomnia as a side effect and I refuse to take sleeping aids because I'm dippy enough already, thank you) that stirred a lot of pain in what I feel is my soul--as dramatic as that sounds. It's true.

So as I feel this intense anger toward people for alienating and trying to shame anyone for wanting to go to the bathroom--I am making connections to what happened in my family in the 70's, 80's and 90's. I realize that the need to defend a person who is being victimized is very deeply ingrained in my core. I've been on the outside. I don't want others to feel that way. Everything political is actually personal. We can't want change for others if we don't feel the injustice around us. If we focus on what we feel we have a right to defend, we lose. There is room in all the bathrooms for all kinds of people. There is room in our country for all kinds of people to find work. There is money enough in our economy to take care of those in need while creating pathways out of poverty. Our love for our neighbors will find a way.

If my Christian friends or other spiritual friends or non-spiritual friends want a better world, my thought is that it will come to us through love. Love the "others" out there in whatever form you see them. Otherwise, you deny that we are all actually the same. You create walls where we don't need them. We really don't need more walls. Please, don't be trumpeters of hatred and division. Love wins when we let it win. Please let love win.

Visit with a Shaman

A couple of days ago, I went to see a shaman. She was a delightful person. We had exchanged emails for a couple of weeks prior. I was scared to meet her but very interested to learn what her work might tell me about moving past depression.

I have struggled with depression for nearly all of my life. My 45th birthday is right around the corner and more than anything, I would like the next thirty or so years that I might have left to be less ruled by how I feel. I've tried every medication over the years. I've been through outpatient and inpatient programs. I've been through extremely disciplined programs through various Catholic and Protestant denominations to help guide me past whatever might be holding me back. I went through a phase of paying a person ridiculous amounts of money to zap my brain with electrodes only to later wonder if she had actually just been a quack because she encouraged me so strongly to stop taking medication while being treated by her. The end result of not taking the medication wasn't good. So at this point, I don't know if there is anything I wouldn't try.

The core of my belief system told me that I was venturing into a place that might not be where God would lead. I sat down in the woman's large, beautiful home wondering if the crystals and candles and things I saw on her coffee table would be used and if that was okay. We talked some about my personal history and hers. She is well educated and has worked in hospitals and clinics in the area. Her travels around the world connect to the work she does now. From an early age, she knew she had a spiritual gift inherited from her ancestors. When she smiles, her whole face lights up and her blue eyes radiate warmth against her gray and silver hair. I felt at ease even though a part of me felt like I was some kind of rebel for talking with her.

She asked me if I would participate in an exercise to answer the question that really plagues me. What am I here to do? On this planet, I mean. I often wonder if I am doing what I am meant to do or if there is more that I am avoiding or unable to do because depression consumes so much of my time. There are stretches of time when I don't sleep well. I wake up during the night and check on my kids to make sure they are breathing. I sit at the table and read. I watch a lot of tv. I scroll on my phone and read about things I wish I was doing or places I wish I was living in or visiting. When I don't sleep, I don't have a lot of energy to do the daily tasks I would like to finish like organizing the messes in my house. The laundry piles up. The dishes pile up. Just making meals and getting my kids off to school and our dogs fed and taken out feels like all I can accomplish. There are also stomach problems that go with the medication I take to stay healthy. When my body isn't absorbing what food I eat because my medication causes nausea and sorry, diarrhea...I don't have a lot of energy. I start to crave carbs and avoid salads. I started smoking cigarettes after not smoking since the minute I realized I was pregnant with my oldest daughter. 11 years smoke free and I went back and I feel ashamed every time I walk into the garage to smoke. I don't know why, but they help with anxiety. I was prescribed Xanax and stopped filling the prescriptions because it made me so tired, so forgetful and so worried that just having that kind of addictive medication in my home is a very bad thing. Cigarettes feel like a lesser sin. There is a lot of what I go through that is related to thinking that I don't deserve the beautiful children I am blessed with and that I don't deserve the husband who loves me unconditionally and who sees me as beautiful and makes me laugh and think about so many interesting things and who makes me feel cherished. I stay inside away from my community because I feel like I don't belong. I fight every day to feel better and to be more functioning than I am, but for years this is the best that I have been able to be and I want to be more. So I accepted the challenge to try the exercise the shaman suggested.

She handed me a rock that was about the size of my hand and asked me to look into it and tell her what I saw. It was a fairly smooth stone with black and brown flecks of color against a white background. My daughter loves rock classification and from spending time with her I would guess it was an igneous rock. Maybe diorite. I looked it over and saw about five smiling baby faces. We laughed. I asked the shaman if other people see other things. She laughed and said yes, people see many different things in the same rocks. She asked if I saw any animals. I looked it over again but could only see little baby smiles. So she wrote down what I saw and asked me to ask each of these images what I was asking her. I asked the baby faces, "Why I am here? What have I left to do that I should focus on for the rest of my life?" The immediate answers that came back to me through my thoughts were, "You are here to love. You are here to listen. You are here to see. You are here to laugh." That was all.

I suppose that's not bad, but what if I never did anything else? Would my life be wasted if that is all that I did? Is that enough? Am I doing enough to be considered worthy of the gifts that others give to me? No answer.

So the shaman gave me another rock and asked me to hold it with me all week. I am supposed to keep it close and ask the same question about being worthy over and over all week whenever the feeling that I am not worthy crops up. Then at the end of the week, she instructed me to return that rock to the Earth in a place I consider sacred or special and let it carry those feelings with it and away from me. She said the Earth will renew those thoughts the way that it takes all matter and transforms it back into new life.

I am sure there are people who would tell me that all of this is a lot of crap. I get it. Some might tell me that I wasted my time and money going there or that I dabbled in something God would not like. I suppose it only matters that I left feeling really hopeful and lighter. I am glad I went to visit a shaman. I haven't made up my mind about going again, but it is something that I am glad I tried.