Lifeclass

I caught up on a bunch of Oprah's LifeClass episodes I had saved on the DVR.

This quote from Iyanla Vanzant was definitely worth pausing to write it down.

You can accept or reject the way you are treated by other people.  But until you heal the wounds of your past, you will continue to bleed.  You can bandage the bleeding with food, with alcohol, with drugs, with work, with cigarettes, with sex, but eventually, it will all ooze through and stain your life.  You must find the strength to open the wounds, stick your hands inside, pull out the core of the pain that is holding you in your past, the memories, and make peace with them.

Wow, powerful.

All I can do

I guess this is one of those posts I just want to write down so I don't forget.  A stream of consciousness post because that's all I can muster right now.

Never mind my insane head cold.  I stopped taking the pseudo-fed 3 days ago because I seriously couldn't function while on it.

When my friend, J's husband passed away suddenly, at 40, I knew that her world, hell, all of our worlds were going to be completely different afterward.  I knew that she would be lonely, that she would be angry, that she would get depressed, that grieving would come at her in crazy and unexpected ways.

I expected that she would be pissed off at me at various times, because she was grieving, because I was not, because my husband was still alive.  Despite the ups and downs that every marriage goes through, I knew full well she'd give anything to continue those ups and downs for another minute, instead of just reminiscing.  I really expected all of it.

But it's still hard.  It's hard to know that the hurt she feels is something I can't take from her.  It's something that wallops her and nobody can shield her from those waves.

So I know that when I've hurt her feelings, or when she thinks I have hurt her feelings, it's not really about me, and it's not really that I've done anything wrong, it's just that she's raw and grieving and it's painful.  The only way to not expose her to any perceived hurt from me is to distance myself from her life.  I love her too much to do that.

But it totally sucks in the meantime.  To know that she's pissed, at me, for no reason, and that any other person can look at the situation and know that she's drowning but can't accept any help, that is painful for us all.  Because we all love her.  And we all want to help her.  But if she closes herself off, and can't let herself be fallible or vulnerable, or open to the love and support that we all wish to share with her, then we have to let her be for now.

I wish it were different.  For J.  For me.  For the rest of us who can only stand by and wish we could do something MORE for her, for us.  I wish it weren't so painful for all of us to bear the brunt of this grief. 

I am glad that we, as her group of friends, can recognize that it isn't a fault of our own.  For most of my life, I am willing to bet that I would've seen this as something I was responsible for, something that I would have to fix.

I only wish that I could.  For now, I can continually offer my vibes from afar.  Until that forgiveness is given, that's the best I can do.

It's Not Easy

Let's be honest. Ethics is not for wimps.


It's not easy being a good person.

It's not easy to be honest when it might be costly, to play fair when others cheat, or to keep inconvenient promises.

It's not easy to stand up for our beliefs and still respect differing viewpoints.

It's not easy to control powerful impulses, to be accountable for our attitudes and actions, to tackle unpleasant tasks, or to sacrifice the now for later.

It's not easy to bear criticism and learn from it without getting angry, to take advice, or to admit error.

It's not easy to feel genuine remorse and apologize sincerely, or to accept apologies graciously and truly forgive.

It's not easy to stop feeling like a victim, to resist cynicism, or to make the best of every situation.

It's not easy to be consistently kind, to think of others first, to judge generously, or to give the benefit of the doubt.

It's not easy to be grateful or to give without concern for reward or gratitude.

It's not easy to fail and still keep trying, to learn from failure, to risk failing again, to start over, to lose with grace, or to be glad of another's success.

It's not easy to look at ourselves honestly and be accountable, to avoid excuses and rationalizations, or to resist temptations.

No, being a person of character isn't easy. That's why it's such a lofty goal and an admirable achievement.

 - Michael Josephson

Happiness is . . .

The Geography of Bliss: One Grump's Search for the Happiest Places in the World by Eric Weiner


My rating: 3 of 5 stars


Probably one of the least happiest books about happiness I've read. The descriptions of the places the author visits are terrific. However, the author is a self-described grump, and it shows. There is a layer of film over even the most happy places the author visits, even the most delighted people. I found the entire book to be a little depressing, as though the motive for writing wasn't really achieved. There is happiness to be found everywhere, and sure, it can be measured, but why? Basically I was confounded with the entire premise, that certain places would be happier than others. I mean, there are homeless people in Hawaii who are probably just as pissed off as some of the people in Qatar or Bhutan (whichever was "happy" in the book). Just not a terrific read, frankly.




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Loss of love and sight

The Blind Contessa's New Machine by Carey Wallace


My rating: 3 of 5 stars


A beautifully descriptive first novel from a young author. A love story about the loss of sight and how to make up for that in imagination. This book is elegant and lovely, although the ending broke my heart in its abrupt apathy. The "machine" doesn't make its appearance until three-quarters through the book, and really, doesn't have much to do with the story. The love between Carolina and her scientist is what draws the reader gently through the Italian countryside in this story. Great read, disappointing ending.




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Immortality

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot


My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Very interesting book about a black woman who, in 1951, unknowingly donated some of her cancer cell tissue which provided limitless groundbreaking for science and technology ever since. Henrietta Lacks was a poor woman from slavery ancestry who provided for her husband and children as best she could until she got sick and went to Johns Hopkins for treatment. While there, she received radiation therapy to cure the cancer which eventually took her life. Her cells were taken for research and found to multiply unlike any cells ever seen to that point in history. Her cells do not die. To date, there are enough cells from Henrietta to circle the Earth three times. This fascinating story tells about the ethics concerning tissue donation when the donor is not aware of the donation nor of the ramifications of donating, as well as the multi-billion dollar industry surrounding the use of donated tissue. It is a sad tale because the Lacks family was cheated out of their share of the profits made from the use of Henrietta's cells, in fact they can't even afford health insurance for their family. The argument for and against informed consent is dissected, does consent help or hinder scientific research? Really great read and lots of questions to answer about tissue research.




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Smashed

Smashed: Story of a Drunken Girlhood by Koren Zailckas


My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Both shockingly honest and also too familiar. The difference I could tell between the author and me is I couldn't feel her overwhelming shame or guilt or remorse in these pages. I have lived through many of the same alcohol induced experiences and, in fact quite a few more since she was in her twenties before she had sex and apparently was never caught drinking and driving. She also quit drinking by 23, whereas I have over 10 years on her by now. Even in my most innocent alcoholic encounters, I felt guilty. She talks about her stomach being pumped and who knows possibly being raped and waking up in strager's houses with the air of a documentary, but never seems afraid of her choices or worried about what other people thought of her. She's much more of a puker than I ever was but, again, she didn't seem embarrassed by it, just saw it as part of being young and drunk. I am impressed with her candor and writing, even if it felt like she was a little removed from it all.

She ends her book with a passionate rage against the alcohol industry in the media.  Most eye catching to me was this:

"Drinking, like all forms of self-destruction, isn't a valid art form - because it allows the world to rejoice in our weakness..."

She also says:  "I've had it with a world that has created a generation of women who are emotionally dependent on alcohol, and then demonized us for our lack of feminine control."

And finally:  "I see alcohol like a man who courted us all.  Alcohol has been the first love of so many of us; it had us believing we were desirable and challenging in its presence alone.  It let us think it would take us away from small towns, stressful studies, tedious jobs, or unproductive relationships.  We have been terrifyingly devoted to it, and it's left too many of us heart sore."

Amen.




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