The Self-Righteous Thief

I had one of my funny little dreams…

The dream begins with two detectives searching through my house.  I’m explaining to them that my cash, credit cards, identification, and jewelry have been stolen from me. 

They ask me a series of questions and I answer them the best I can…

• No, I wasn’t home at the time.  Whoever broke in must have known there was plenty of time.

• No.  I have no idea why the thief would spread religious prayer cards and pamphlets all around my place.

• No.  That’s not my bible.  Mine is on the bookshelf.  The thief must have left that one, along with all the other religious paraphernalia.

• No.  I have no idea why the thief would paint religious symbols all over the outdoor screens, windows, and glass door.

Shaking their heads in disbelief, the detectives bag all the prayer cards and bible as evidence — highly doubting that they will find fingerprints on the items.

They continue to take photos of the thief’s religious artwork, especially of the cross painted right next to the screen that was slashed open and the door that was busted in. 

One of the detectives points to the gaping hole in the screen and informs me that they believe that must be how the thief got in.  [Yes, Mr. Detective, I would have to agree…]

And that’s when I woke up.

**** 

It is easy to figure out from where the “inspiration” for this dream comes. 

 

It comes from a conversation I just had with my 86-year-old mother.  I called to see how she was doing and found her very upset.

She had just been visited by two of her sister-in-laws. 

I am sure that these two women meant well and were full of good intentions, but in their religious zealousness, they destroyed my mother’s self-worth, while heightening her guilt and anxieties.

Pray tell, how did they steal these precious things from her?

Ah… They did it by bringing over a number of prayer cards and pamphlets for my mother to read, digest, and recite now that she’s homebound.  

"After all," they inform my mother, "there is no greater service to mankind than to pray for the salvation of the world; and the elderly and homebound are the ones who have the time to do it."

When she’s assaulted in this manner, Mom tries to push back as much as she can but the guilt that fuels such pious rhetoric is difficult to fend off. 

How does one go about explaining that you don’t want to spend your days chanting prayers that hold no meaning to you?  How do you go about explaining that you’re not motivated by words that create only guilt and unworthiness within you? 

How do you explain these things to those who only hear their own self-righteous voice?

I consoled Mom the best I could by telling her that her sister-in-laws mean well, but they don’t realize that their way is not right for her.  If chanting prayers all day gives them purpose and a reason to get up each morning, then that is great for them — but that doesn’t give them the right to inflict their beliefs on her.  Just because they do those things do not make them “holier than thou.”

Mom:  Yes it does!


Me: No, it doesn’t.  They are only “holier than thou” because they are telling you that they are holier than you — and for no other reason than that. 


Mom:  Well, Beatrice goes to Daily Mass.


Me:  And Beatrice is a very social person.  With her husband passing away and her eight children being grown and out of the house, she finds going to Daily Mass a nice way of getting out, meeting her friends, and feeling useful.


Mom:    Well, I guess so… but she sits under a tree with a rosary and prays a special pray for each of the 50 states… and…


Me:  Mom, if those things give her purpose and meaning to her life, that great!  I’m happy for her, but that doesn’t give her the right to force her beliefs and routines on you or anyone else.  That doesn’t give her the right to judge you — or anyone else.

I thought I was making some headway, until Mom broke down in tears.  After the tears started flowing, there was no stopping them.

So, that’s how my aunts were able to take my mother’s self-worth, while heightening her guilt and anxieties — with religious prayer cards, pamphlets, and painting pictures of the religious devotion and piety… 

         … much like the self-righteous thief in my dream.

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Submit vs. Surrender — The Difference is Intent

I ran into an acquaintance that I haven’t seen for about five years.  I asked how she’s been doing and asked about her three daughters and her mom.  Everyone was doing fine.  The youngest is a senior; the other two were in college — one going abroad, etc.

I, then, complimented her on her short haircut — telling her that I really liked that cut on her.  It looked very care-free and youthful on her.

She ran her hand over her hair, smiled, and nodded as she said, “Thanks!  I got it cut when I separated from my husband.  He wouldn’t let me cut my hair.”

Now, I know that most men like longer hair on women, but her choice of words was interesting. 

She didn’t say, “I kept my hair longer for him, because he liked it longer.”

No, she said, “He wouldn’t let me cut my hair.”


“He wouldn’t let me” gives the impression of submitting to another's control — as if your will is being taken from you.


On the other hand, when you keep your hair long because your partner likes it long, it’s your choice to keep it long.  You’re doing it because you like pleasing your partner.  You’re surrendering your preference to his… but it’s still your choice.  You’re giving to him.  He’s not taking anything away from you.


The result is the same — longer hair — but the intent behind the gesture is completely different.  It's the difference between feeling controlled by someone and caring for someone.

Not surprisingly, she kept smiling when she told me that things are better for her and for the girls — now that her husband and she are separated.  


Yeah.  The freedom behind that short haircut did wonders for her. 


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I’m Numb

I’m numb. 

For the past couple of years, I’ve been trying to contact a friend of mine.  We were really close years and years ago, but she moved out of state, and we've lost touch.

Over the years, I’ve called her; but after another move, the phone number I had for her no longer worked. 

Emailing her wasn’t an option, since she wasn’t comfortable with the computer and didn’t have an email address. 

The letters and cards I sent in the later years started to come back with no forwarding address. 

Knowing my friend’s hectic, constantly moving, and crazy life, I just assumed that she was happily busy with her family — and I, mentally, wished her well.

She’s such a beautiful person that I couldn’t wish her anything less.  She’s another exceptional person I’ve had the privilege to know.  Her loving spirit shines through every piece of her and brightens everyone and everything around her.  She is totally devoted to her family and “her family” includes everyone she meets.  Her presence makes such a difference to those she touches. 

So, I can understand how we fell out of touch, and I am so grateful that our paths crossed for as long as it did.

Two years ago, some internal need made me resurrect my search for her again.  I knew my friend wasn’t comfortable on the computer, but I thought, maybe, time had changed that and searching on Facebook was worth a shot.  It would be one way that she can keep in contact with her family — and I thought, maybe, her daughters would have set up an account for her. 

So, I took a shot.  Unfortunately, my friend’s name is pretty common, and I had to develop a hit-and-miss strategy to my Facebook search.  I thought I had found her and sent her a friend’s request… but got no response.

That didn’t stop me, though.  Each time her birthday rolled around, I would reach out again and again… with no response.

This year, when her birthday came around, I reached out again…

Then it struck me.  Her youngest daughter would be in her twenties now — and part of this Facebook generation.  If I can find her, I can ask her to wish her mom a happy birthday for me.  And that’s what I did.

Yesterday, the daughter messaged me back. 

Her mom — my friend — was killed in a car accident, by a drunk driver… two years ago.

I'm numb.

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When Being Right Isn't Nearly Enough

There is no other way to put it.  I hate going to work these days.

Everyone’s stressed because of the resident bully in the office.  He’s free to run havoc in the division, making everyone miserable — but no one has the desire to change things.  He’s been doing it for years and years, so everyone accepts it as “just the way things are.”  Those tired of the treatment simply leave the company.

I go to my supervisor to complain about the situations the bully creates.  She agrees with everything I say.  She keeps telling me that I am right.  I am right that it shouldn’t be this way.  I am right that things should be different — but she tells me that nothing will change.

I take my complaints to my supervisor’s supervisor — the Vice President of the company.  He also tells me that he agrees with me.  He keeps telling me that I am right.  He wishes things can be different, but there’s nothing he can do about the bully.  He has no power to change things.  And with that, he sends me out of his office.

Everywhere I turn, people are telling me that I’m right, but that’s not enough for me — not nearly enough.

Whenever the bully interacts with me, I push back.  At once, he backs down and immediately runs to my supervisor.  He tells her that he will no longer work with me because of my attitude.  He will only deal with her.

Oh, dear!  I’m so deeply wounded by this declaration of his!  Instead of addressing me directly, he will use my supervisor as the go-between, forcing her to deal with the bully, instead of me.  How can I live with such an arrangement?

Actually, this heavenly situation only lasts a couple of weeks at a time, and then he comes after me again.  I push back, and the cycle repeats itself… over and over again.

Because the supervisor doesn’t like dealing with the fallouts of these encounters, I am told that, although I am right, it’s best not to confront the bully head on.  She — and everyone else — makes excuses for the bully, allowing him to continue his reign of terror. 

Because I am not moved to change my position, I am told that it’s best not to rock the boat.  The bully can make things harder for me…

I’m confused.  Exactly how can he make things harder for me?  It’s not he who is allowing this to continue.  He has no authority over me.  He doesn’t evaluate me, doesn’t discipline me, and can’t fire me. 

The only power he holds is the power others give him.  If people would stand up together and say, “Enough is enough!” then the bully would lose his ability to intimidate the office.

But no one is willing to stand up.   Management would rather support the negative environment, allow good employees to be harassed and disrespected, and force good employees to leave their employ… instead of taking positive steps to deal with the issue.

Yeah, everyone’s telling me that I’m right, but that’s not enough — not nearly enough…

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Sleepless Nights

I’m in one of my introspective moods, tonight — and I’m very tired. 

I’ve been having a series of dreams these last couple of days, which have left me troubled.  The dreams deal with feelings of loss and brokenness.

One was about a chef preparing a fabulous meal for us.  It was delicious to those she served it to, but it wasn’t to her liking.  Because of that, she became upset and angry.  During her tantrum, she threw away all her pots and pans and gave up cooking.  She gave up her life-long pursuit, because that one meal wasn’t perfect… in her eyes. 

Another one dealt with me breaking my eye glasses — at the bridge of the nose.  I tried fixing the bridge with superglue, but I just managed to super-glue my fingers together instead, and the glue on the bridge of the nose irritated my eyes to tears…

The dream that started all this dealt with a friend with whom I’ve lost touch.  She’s as creative, intelligent, and confident as she is volatile — and her life has been very difficult because of these traits.  She cannot cultivate close friendships because of her strong and erratic mood swings. When she's in those moods, she simply pushes everyone away.

It’s been about six years, now, since she’s cut off contact with me.  I’ve tried calling her and have sent letters, emails, birthday wishes, and Facebook invitations to reconnect, but she hasn’t wanted to reconnect—and I have to respect her wishes.

This is one of the most difficult aspects of caring for others — respecting their freedom and independence, while dealing with the emotional connection that draws you into their pain.

I have to admit, my life has been more stable without her in it.  I’m not looking to opening myself up to the hurt that comes along with her friendship, and I wish I could leave well enough alone. 

And I would, if it wasn’t for these dreams…

The dream that started it all was about her.  In the dream, she was at some social event.  Something disturbed her, and she became very upset and angry.  She started throwing things and yelling.  No one could reach her to calm her down, so she continued to spiral out of control.  She threw things and disrupted the whole evening for everyone.

I know it sounds weird to most people, but the last time I ignored something like this, I learned later that the person I was thinking about had committed suicide.  No one could reach her, either…

I don’t want that to happen again.  I don’t want to learn later that I should have reached out when I had the chance. 

So, the dilemma — how do I not intrude, if all is fine with her and she doesn’t want to reconnect with me — but still be able to sleep at night, without the fear that I didn’t reach out when I should have?

How do I mend the bridge without getting stuck — like in the dream about my broken glasses and the superglue? 

After a couple of sleepless nights, I’ve decided to send a simple “thinking of you” note to her mother — figuring that reaching out to the family, as a whole, would be a safer way of connecting… while respecting my friend’s wishes.

At this point, I think that is all I can do and hope that it’s enough.

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The Backlash

If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you would have run into a number of posts stressing the need to accept responsibility for your actions while, at the same time, allowing others to accept the consequences of their own actions. 

Well, a friend of mine is beginning to do that with her 20-something-year-old daughter.  She’s stepping away and taking back her life — allowing her daughter to take ownership of her own life.

This move, on my friend’s part, is very hard for her… and her daughter.

Cassandra, my friend, wants to be a supportive and loving mother.  In fulfilling this need of hers, she has given her daughter all that she has — bailing the daughter out of one mess after another. 

Looking back over her life, she realizes that, while she has given up everything for her daughter, her sacrifices have gone unnoticed.  Now, she finds herself financially strapped and emotionally drained. 

The daughter is in no better shape.  Over the years, the daughter has developed an attitude of “entitlement” that was once only reserved for royalty.  The daughter has been taught to expect her mother to fulfill her every need, without question or appreciation.  The daughter has never had to accept responsibility for her own actions, nor deal with the consequences that result from those actions.  Her mother always stepped in to shield her from herself.  

Both individuals in this story are searching for their own identities.  Both are struggling to stand on their own… crying out to be seen and heard — to be loved for who they are…

Cassandra wants things to change for her daughter and for herself.  For this to happen, she has started to step away from situations — allowing the daughter to step up and take ownership of her own life.

Once Cassandra starts to step away, the backlash begins.  It's a strong wave of reality crashing down on the daughter.  

This is painful for both of them.

The daughter is hit so hard that it throws her off-balance.  In response, she does the only thing she knows to get her footing back.  She blames her mother for her situation.  She gives the mother the icy stares and the cold, silent treatment — shutting the mother out of her life — waiting for the mother to break down and fix things…

Cassandra is struggling with her decision.  Was it the right thing to do?  Was it the right time to do it? 

Oh, if only she could turn back the hands of time and start all over again, but she can’t.  She can only go forward…

Will her daughter ever understand why her mother did this? 

Will Cassandra be strong enough to see this through? 

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You’ve Heard it All Before…

Here’s a quick update on our publishing pursuits:  I’m back to waiting… waiting… waiting.

 

Yes, there was a lot of activity over the push to get the book published in time for Katherine’s debut with her other partner’s plan for regular workshops and presentations. 

We even met with another friend of Katherine’s — a graphic designer and illustrator.  We intended to hire him to create our book cover for us, but after our meeting, he not only wanted to do the book cover, but he wanted to do the interior design as well. 

Part of me was excited, while the other part was… disappointed.  I’ve been working sooooo hard on the interior look of the book.  I had put so much of myself into the page layouts and such… and now none of that will matter.  All my hard work will be discarded…all for naught. 

It's not that I don't trust him with the project.  I absolutely DO trust him to make the book the best that it can be.

It's just that... now my writing project is in the hands of others.  The graphic designer is going to take over the look of the book, and I'm still waiting for Katherine to finish reading through the final draft…

So, there’s nothing more that I can do but wait… wait… wait...

I REALLY HATE WAITING!!!

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Angry Eye

Someone introduced this video to me.  I thought it was eye opening and wanted to share it with you.  

I hope you take the time to watch it all the way through. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OPtzS7-H7J4&feature=share)