Getting Lost in My Feelings of Guilt

 Although it may not seem so in my posts on this blog, I am capable of deep thinking.  One deep thought leads to another, and suddenly I am drenching myself in tears for all of the past things that happened where I missed the boat--dropped the ball--whatever cliche' is appropriate for "didn't do what I should have but didn't realize it at the time".  

Several days ago, one of my dearest friends and teaching colleagues posted a video on Facebook of children in an elementary school in Clarksville, Indiana, singing We Are the World, a song written by Michael Jackson and Lionel Ritchie in the 1980s, and performed by 45 iconic music artists in the USA, in an effort to raise money to help feed starving children in Africa.  The children's version, with pure, strong voices, and adorable, innocent faces was every bit as good--and brought me to tears.  What kind of world are we leaving to the children?  Who really cares about the children?  We are so wrapped up in our politics and disagreements that we forget that when we are long gone, these children of the world will remain to mop up after what we have given them.  And that's where the guilt starts.

Every parent on the planet carries this guilt.  Was I there for my child when she needed me?   Did I understand?  What did I do wrong?  How could I have done better?  Can she ever forgive me for my mistakes?  Did I ever do anything right?  And, of course, that carries over to the grandchildren, causing me to have many dreams about protecting them.  (Guilt even follows me when I'm sleeping!) 

I had a very savvy male leader of a parenting class my husband and I took when our child was young, who offered to hold my guilt for me so I wouldn't have to carry it around.  He told me he would give it back to me any time I thought I needed it.  His point was not lost on me.  I got it.  Guilt is a non-productive emotion (if it can be considered an emotion).  We don't need it.  We can't really move forward with it.  To paraphrase the old Hallmark ad, "Guilt is the gift that keeps on giving."  And yet...there it is.  

I've heard Dr. Phil ask parents of children who are out of control, "So you are parenting out of guilt?"  Many don't know they are until he elaborates it right before their eyes.  The response is usually something like, "I never thought of it that way before."  Even recovering alcoholics following a 12-step program are told to make amends to people they have inadvertently hurt in the course of their addiction.  Is it ever enough?

That was a very long intro to what is troubling me right now.  I find my heart dissolving.  The more I see of animals and their behavior, the more I know that we, as human animals, have totally misjudged their ability to think and feel.  The more I see of life and understand, the more my heart breaks for how stupid we humans can be.  As an example, although I consider myself a Christian, I'm not a Bible-thumper, judging others by the words of humans, however inspired.  I'm all for meeting people wherever they are in the continuum of the universe.  If one is gay, bi, lesbian, trans, "queer" or whatever, more power to them.  Why should that bother me?  I'm none of those, but I totally get that others are.  Others, created by God.  They deserve nothing less from a free society of citizens to have the same rights as every other citizen of that same society.  

There was a time, not too many years ago, that I expressed not understanding the whole "trans" thing.  I think I wrote something about putting lipstick on a pig.  It was ugly.  One day, in a moment of clarity, I realized that I wasn't expected to understand it.  Christ expected me to accept it without understanding.  (Isn't that what faith is?)  I surrendered.  The trans experience is not my experience, so I have no right to judge.  I still feel bad about my earlier feelings.  Hello, guilt!

So now, the ruckus in Ukraine raises it's ugly head.  Those who are pro-Russia assume that Russia is somehow protecting its people by invading the country.  (Yeah...I don't get that.)  The Ukrainians are fighting, non-stop, for their freedom.  Many...most?...here in the States are in sympathy with Ukraine.  But why do we feel their pain more than we have felt other invasions/tragedies, worldwide?  I shudder to admit that part of the reason, I think, is that they look like us.  They aren't black.  They aren't primitive.  They don't live in huts or herd sheep and cattle.  They wear shoes.  They are--if you will excuse me for saying so-- white.  

When it hit me, I was already into the We Are the World, thing, questioning my questions.   What have I done to change things?  Nothing, except verbal support.  How will the world change?  When we understand that the world is all ONE people with the same needs and hopes and dreams.  Should we feel guilty?  YES.  Accepting the status quo precludes change.  I'm not a rebel, but God knows that I want to die in peace, knowing that the future is secure for my grandchildren and their children.  

One last note:  my son-in-law and his parents are all Russian-Americans.  The US is much better for having them in it.  I know how much it must hurt them to see what's going on back home now, but I--for one--am very happy that they are safely out of that mess.  Sorry...I know what they have sacrificed, but I only feel slightly guilty about that!

Not sure if guilty feelings rest only on women.  I'd like to think that anyone who embraces truth will share the burden when times get tough.  Times are tough now.  People are tense, irritable, and out of touch.  None of us asked for this; thus, none of us should further it.  If guilt helps people to understand the other side of any story, bring it on.  I'm not sure I will ever be free of feeling that I've failed in life, but I do keep trying, with God's help, to be better!

I Got a Letter This Week...

 The letter that I got was from the Indiana University Health network, announcing that my Primary Care Physician is leaving her practice, as of April 29th.  That kind of threw me into a tizzy because I really liked this gal, and her office was local.  In the letter, some other doctors were recommended, but they were all in the community to the north of us.  Not something I really wanted.

For many years, I didn't have a PCP--someone we used to call a Family Doctor.  Those, of course, were in the years when I was younger and didn't have many health problems.  Once I was eligible for Medicare (government-funded health care for the elderly in the U.S.), my supplemental insurance required that I have a PCP, so they appointed one for me.  I saw him exactly once before he left his practice for an administrative position somewhere.  Then there was the heart attack, so I was scheduled to meet with my cardiologist on a regular basis for my heart and blood fat levels, etc.  If I had any other problems, I would head down to the immediate care center down the road from me, or the Emergency Room if I felt particularly scared.  At one point, my cardiologist looked at me and said, "I'm your only doctor, aren't I?"  I confessed that he was, so he got busy to recommend some to me; thus, I established with the one I have now who is leaving at the end of April.  

Truth be known, I have left a number of doctors because they were problematic to me:  one I left because he was treating me and my young daughter condescendingly and had questionable manner; one I left because she told me I had a sexually transmitted disease and that I needed to alert all of my sex  partners.  When I tried to tell her I didn't have any sex partners so wasn't sure how I could have an STD, she waved me off as if to say, "Yeah, yeah, yeah....I've heard it all before."  I never went back--not out of embarrassment, but anger.  And one I left because I had asked for some answers about my back.  He ordered an x-ray.  When the results returned, he told me that my back showed "weakness", as if my muscles weren't strong enough to support it.  I'm sorry.  I'm not an idiot.  X-rays don't show weakness.  They show bones.  He never mentioned a word about the bones.  Nothing about bulging disc or arthritis or degeneration.  Nope.  Just weakness.  Thereafter, he departed his practice, at the same time that I departed his practice.  But I digress...                  

Okay, so I called my current PCP (about whom I had gotten the letter), to make an appointment, just to check in one last time.  I got in the very next day.  It had been awhile since I'd had blood work done, and I just wanted a check-up.  I'm so glad I did that!  Of course, she ordered the blood work, etc., but she also suggested that the letter I had received failed to mention other doctors right there in her own office facility that she would recommend.  Huge relief!  I didn't have to do the dance to figure out doctors who were still taking new patients who were also local enough not to have to drive out of town just for an appointment.  I left Dr. Dunn's office with a June appointment for the new doc.  Yay!

My blood work results came in two days later.  They show me as "pre-diabetic", which means I need to get with the program and get my weight down, among other things.  I know how to lose weight.  I just need to quit making pandemic excuses and just do it.  

And everybody said, "Amen"!   

Signs of Spring in the American Midwest

 In the winter here in the Midwest (Illinois, where I was born, and Indiana, where I now live), the days are fraught with planning ahead.  We need to dig the snow shovel out of storage, put the ice scraper/snow brush back in the car, find the ice melt shaker, and keep an eye on the weather forecast to determind when or if one needs to stock up on food or vices of choice.  Liquor stores and smoke shops will see an uptick in sales.  Those with disabilities (like me) need to arrange for a company for snow removal over a certain amount.  To say I am fortunate to be retired so I really don't have to worry about getting up and out on a snowy/icy morning is an understatement.

Slowly, slowly, over the weeks and months of isolation due to cold, etc., the season gives way to signs that spring is coming.  First come the sprouts of early spring plants and flowers.  Tulips, daffodils, sedum, grape hyacinth, and crocus all pop through the soil, and sometimes through snow.  Then come flocks of geese flying north, and sandhill cranes even higher up but still hearable.  Sometimes, simultaneously, the robins will arrive from the south, and the spring peepers--the little chirping frogs--will brighten the air with their sounds in the evenings.  Of course, we will also get a hint that spring is well on the way when the temperatures rise to tolerable.  People are out walking their dogs and their children, just soaking up the warm air and sunshine.  

My friends, spring has arrived in Central Indiana.  My sedum is up.  I have seen my first very welcome robin (in my front yard on the day after my birthday).  Friends have heard the cranes and the peepers.  New life!  Rebirth!  Getting ready for Easter, which is early this year.  It sure feels good to have the windows open and the outside smells coming in again.  Love it!       

All Eyes on Ukraine

Look...I'm not a military strategist, a politician, or even an internet "influencer".  In the grand scheme of things, I am a nobody.  But I'm a nobody that cares about our tiny blue-dot planet and the people who live on it.  

I have a Russian-American son-in-law who has been in the US since 2008, and is now a prosperous American citizen.  This young man is a hunk...extremely intelligent...a kick-ass provider for my daughter and grandchildren (from another marriage).  He keeps some Russian traditions, particularly around New Year, but he speaks English better than most Americans.  Truth be known, he is as American as the winter is cold.  When he left Russia, it was with the understanding that he would never go back.  He has never really expressed any regret for not going back to his homeland, even just for a visit.  His parents are also here in the US, and also citizens now.  

Back when the Olympics were held in Sochi, Russia, I was here in Indiana, watching, and Denis and my daughter Megan were in Grayslake, IL, also watching.  We traded texts through it all.  I kept waiting for the Russian Cossack dancers to perform in the opening ceremonies, but they never did.  When I complained to Meg and Den about it, Denis informed me that Cossack dancers were actually Ukrainian and not Russian.  OMG!  I had no clue!  Then something else came up, and Den informed that what I was looking for was also Ukrainian.  Even the language, according to my son-in-law, is "pretty much the same thing".  Thus, I lost faith in my previous confidence in my knowledge of other cultures.  It's never too late to teach an old dog new tricks.

Russia has eyed Ukraine for years to take it back to the former years of the USSR.  Ukraine has other ideas.  And now, Russia has invaded Ukraine in an effort to snag it as Russian territory, with the excuse that they are trying to "protect" their people (or whatever).  What the world is witnessing now is ALL people of Ukraine finding ways to fight back.  From ballet dancers to breast-feeding mothers.  People are making molotov cocktails.  And the rest of us cheer for them.  That doesn't make light of the depth of their sacrifices of life, family, and homeland.  

Russia is a huge country.  Ukraine is not.  The rest of the world "supports" Ukraine without really getting involved due to fear for yet another world war.  I'm at the point of resigning myself to whatever happens because I can't really change anything....but my heart is with Ukraine.  And I think my formerly Russian son-in-law feels that way, too.  

I like the Ukrainian heart.  They are all focused on one thing, while we continue with political division.  Lead us, our Ukrainian neighbors.  We need more help than you do!