Escape

I came home from a dinner with some girlfriends a few nights ago and my husband was sitting on the couch watching Hotel Rwanda.  We've owned this movie for over 2 years now and have never watched it.  Every time he suggests it, I say that I just can't handle something that heavy right now.  And that night was no different.  I saw that it was on and I bolted out of the room as fast as I could.  I absolutely did not want to see, hear or experience something that would make me feel so many emotions.  I think this is a common sentitment among people with intellectually challenging jobs.  We spend our whole days thinking and analyzing and really don't want to spend our valued personal entertainment time thinking more.  But I feel guilty about this and also wonder if it's something to be further discussed in a therapist's office.  One, it makes me miss out on some valuable experiences with husband and two, I wonder how long I can go without feeling certain emotions.  Am I avoiding something more than the stress of work and thinking too much?

Love and Race

A friend's blog has inspired me to write again.  She has a post here on love and race.  The post is about her decision to open herself up to the prospect of dating outside her race (she happens to be African-American).  The comments to her post discuss whether men and women of different races can feel fulfilled and really meet each other's needs in all aspects.  One individual who commented relayed her story of dating outside her race and her feeling that the white man she dated just couldn't relate to the struggles she faces as a black woman.  Now, I am not a black woman and I try to be very aware of the fact that no matter how hard I try not to, I operate under the protection of white privilege , so I cannot specifically understand her point of view or the point of view of her commenters.  But I am married to a man of a different race, so I have some experience with this subject.   

I will be the first to admit that, in my marriage, there are times our race separates us.  Even though I tend to be the one who gets most outraged at racial injustice and even though I have a real passion for equality and for increasing diversity in the professional world, there are certain topics, certain current events, that we simply cannot discuss because I cannot, and probably never will be able to identify with his opinion on the issue or his experience of the particular issue as a black man (and an Indian man, but my observation is that, at least in this country, the world defines you as black when they discover you have any African-American heritage).  When we try to discuss those topics, it just ends up being hurtful to someone.  No matter how innocent my questions, they appear ignorant and insensitive and no matter how level headed he tries to be in our discussions, there is a great deal of emotion tied up in reactions/comments/opinions and I end up feeling like he thinks I have no sensitivity to or understanding of what he has experienced.  And there are certainly times when I know our difference in upbrining and life perspective has made things more difficult - from discussions about family, money, discipline of oru children, etc., but I don't think that would have been any different had I married a white man who grew up really rich or poor or from a different religion. I feel privileged to have an intimate relationship with someone who has a completely different life experience than me.  Part of the joy of a relationship is figuring out your differences together and learning how to become one - despite those. And I am happy that my children are an amalgamation of at least three different cultures.  I hope to allow them to find where they fit - to encourage them to completely understand who they are.  Maybe that's very PollyAnna of me, but I don't think so.

My first reaction to my friend's post is that you shouldn't limit yourself, but I think my real opinion is that it is an individual decision for every one. I can see why someone would choose not to date outside their race.  In some ways, it would be a lot easier.  In other situations though, it is part of what defines the beauty and success of a relationship.  And in even others, it is unfortunately, what defines the failure of a relationship.  I have never really been attracted to people who are the same (race, gender, sexual orientation, economic background, political affilication, etc.) as me - in my friendships or intimate relationships.  Don't get me wrong, everyone needs to feel understood and I have friends who are very similar to me, but for the most part, I like surrounding myself with different perspectives.  So, for me, this is what fits.  And I hope it does for my husband also :)

Freedom

It has been almost a year since I have posted here.  I have toyed with the idea of a few other blogs, but I am always thinking of things that fit here.  Today, I am inspired to write again because for the past two months I have experienced freedom.  I left my big law firm job on February 12 and I have not looked back for one single minute.  I knew I felt trapped. I knew I hated billable hours and I knew that I was completely over the political crap, but I really had no idea just how stifled and just how miserable I truly was.  Let me make a disclaimer here - I really like almost all of the people I worked with at my firm.  They are great lawyers and more importantly, great people.  I even liked the work - at least 50% of the time.  And I was pretty good at it.  But the environment, for me, was just toxic.  I have told several people, since starting my new job, that I feel like I left an abusive relationship.  First, I had convinced myself that, if I was paid a certain salary, the tradoff was that I had to be miserable.  It was just a fact of life that came with the paycheck.  I now know that's not true.  I took a very small pay cut for my current job and I am not miserable.  In fact, I really, really like the job. That doesn't mean it isn't hard or stressful or that I don't work a lot, but I like it.  I feel respected and valued and even if  had taken a large pay decrease, that would be worth it.  Second, I have been in the job for two months and in the past few days, I have just stopped walking around on eggshells waiting for something bad to happen - waiting to discover what I hate, what is going to make me miserable.  And I don't think it's there.  Again, it's not perfect, because no job is, but it's just so very, very different.  I feel free.

My Feminist Husband

I am so jealous. My husband has found his calling. He is working for the Lexington Affiliate of Susan G. Komen For the Cure. He and his boss are two of the very few men who work for the organization nationally. And they are passionate and so good at what they do. His boss's wife is a 30-something year old survivor. Carl lost his grandmother to breast cancer and the loss of my mom's best friend, who was dear to us both, to the disease was the catalyst for us moving back to Kentucky. He gets to be an advocate for women on a daily basis. And he is so good at it. Women dominate his life. Sometimes to his discomfort and even misery, I am sure. I don't have enough time or space to talk about the time he has spent taking care of the women in his life and how that has affected him both positively and negatively, but I know that one of the positives is his passion for causes that affect them. I am so happy for him that he gets to spend every day fighting for the women he loves, but I am so very jealous also.

Camp Lyons, the Church of God, etc.

I drove by my old church camp a few days ago. I spent every summer for 7 years as a camper and 2 - 3 years as a counselor at Camp Lyons. I had supernatural spiritual experiences there. I developed life long friends. I had my heart broken. I prayed with a high school gang member who made a faith commitment. I talked to young girls about self-image. I laughed. I did embarassing things. I put shaving cream in people's hair. I played practical jokes. I bobbed for gummy bears in a tin of ice water. I sang. I cried. I learned about God and felt God and experienced God in all of those things.



Sights, smells, sounds all evoke vivid memories for me. I am transported to the past nearly immediately upon entering certain places and not to my surprise, Camp Lyons is one of those. There is an amphitheater that overlooks a small lake and I wish I could have sat there all day. I walked into the chapel and I nearly fell to my knees. I have prayed so many prayers in that room. For God to heal someone who was sick, for God to forgive me of my sins, for God to bring my father to know him, for God to send me a letter in the mail to tell me what I was supposed to be and who I was supposed to marry and where I was supposed to live and when it would all happen.



My faith has changed drastically since Camp Lyons. When I attended and worked there, I was a girl growing up in the Church of God (based in Anderson, IN) and I followed all the rules. I believed what the church told me to believe and while I always had lots of questions, I bought what they were selling me (for the most part). Somewhere along the way I distinguished myself and in the opinion of the most faithful followers, I might have even "turned my back" on the church, but my experiences in that tradition are the bedrock of my faith. The Church of God tradition is based on the idea that everyone has a personal relationship with Jesus Christ and that we are all members of "God's church." But it is a "holiness" tradition and places a great deal of emphasis on actions (drinking, smoking, style of dress, etc.) that tend to be moral markers for the "low church" traditions. I have mostly rejected the second half of that description, but I have never given up the first. It's what gives me heartache when I consider becoming a "member" of a church or consider identifying myself with a denomination that has a "doctrine."

It might be shocking to some people that the church and the Christian college I attended that was associated with it are where I learned to think and ask questions. I pushed and tested every boundary and while I am still in progress, and expect to be until I leave this earth, I have a much clearer vision of who I am in relation to God because I was given the space to explore, even if they didn't know they were giving it to me and as a church, probably wouldn't agree with the resolutions I came to. And despite the fact that I am so different in so many ways than the last time I sat at the amphitheater at Camp Lyons, when I sit there now, I remember how I am the same.

I'm not really doing it

Part of the inspiration for my writing again is this conversation I seem to be having with my friends and colleagues: at least 3 times a week someone says to me, "I don't know how you do it." This is usually in reference to my having two children, a husband, a legal career and what they perceive to be a great deal of charitable/civic activity. I am in awe every time. What makes them think I am "doing it." What is "it" anyway? I am struggling to keep my sanity at work and crossing my fingers and praying that they won't fire me at the end of the billable year when I turn up about 200 hours short, I often wonder if social services would take my children away if they saw the condition of my house, my husband and I rarely find time for a meaningful conversation (and don't even get me started on "intimacy"), we live paycheck to paycheck and make more money than the majority of people in America and I don't get to do as much community and volunteer work as I would like. And I haven't even mentioned that I see my kids for sometimes less than 3 hours a day. What is it that makes people think I have it all together? I really strive for authenticity, sometimes to a fault. How have I created an image of successfulness? I don't feel successful.

So, my response to the comment "I don't know how you do it," is "I don't."

Back

I took a haitus from this for a while - mostly for professional reasons, but I have decided to pick it up again. I created a very uncreative "psuedonym" for myself , but then decided that I am not going through the effort to figure out how to remove all previously identifying information, and that I wanted to put that great picture of me and my boys as my profile picture, so I'll just take that risk.