Goodbye, August

 A lot has happened this month, so I am not sad to say goodbye to August and move on to hopefully better days in September! Happy Labor Day Weekend!

Feeling Your Feelings

I can't remember when I first heard the term "toxic positivity" but I do remember how I felt: vaguely unsettled and puzzled. How could positivity, a universally good thing, ever be toxic? The Anxiety & Depression Association of America (ADAA) defines toxic positivity thusly: "Toxic Positivity occurs when encouraging statements are expected to minimize or eliminate painful emotions, creating pressure to be unrealistically optimistic without considering the circumstances of the situation. "

Unfortunately, I sometimes see within myself this tendency to focus on the positive and ignore negative emotions. I know intellectually this isn't healthy, but I can't help doing it anyway. Facing up to the hard, unfair, unkind, and damaging things in the world can, and often does, stir up negative emotions. And frankly - some things should make us feel bad! When we do bad things, we should feel regret. When we read about or see injustice or cruelty, we should be indignant and upset about it. If we don't feel those feelings, I think we are shortchanging ourselves from the full human experience.

For a book club, I recently re-read the Jane Austen masterpiece that is Persuasion. At one point, the heroine Anne Elliot is talking to her friend Mrs. Smith about how sickness always brings out nobility of character, or as she puts it: "...heroism, fortitude, patience, resignation: of all the conflicts and all the sacrifices that ennoble us most...." Her friend wisely replies: “Yes,” said Mrs Smith more doubtingly, “sometimes it may, though I fear its lessons are not often in the elevated style you describe. Here and there, human nature may be great in times of trial; but generally speaking, it is its weakness and not its strength that appears in a sick chamber: it is selfishness and impatience rather than generosity and fortitude, that one hears of.” One of Austen's strengths as a writer is her acknowledgement of human frailty. A perfect person might face disease and death heroically, but that's simply not reality.

I was recently talking to a friend about a close family member who will likely soon pass away. The friend's comment was something like "no one knows what to say - it makes people weird." It's impossible to say the right thing in the face of certain death. So I think it's understandable when people search for a bright side in the face of such ugliness and pain. But, true empathy is sitting with that person in pain (you might say "mourning with those who mourn"), and resisting the impulse to find the silver lining in the dark cloud every second of every day.

Now of course I'm not saying we should give into despair and wallow every day - while there is a lot to be sad about, if you're feeling sad all the time, you need to seek medical help for that. But, I am saying that we are allowed to feel negative emotions. We shouldn't create a false expectation of perfection by saying things like "oh, she never complains" about people who struggle with chronic disease. Maybe that person doesn't feel like they can share those negative things with you! We should give everyone (including ourselves!) the grace and space to complain, to have bad days, to struggle with things.

May is apparently Mental Health Awareness Month. As part of that, my company had a recent webinar with Michael Phelps, the Olympian, about his struggles with mental health. He mentioned the "eight primary emotions," which was a term I hadn't heard before. The 8 primary emotions are anger, anticipation, joy, trust, fear, surprise, sadness, and disgust. It made me think about when I feel those emotions, and recognize that each of those is just part of being alive. 

Not sure why this was on my mind so much, but it has been! So, my advice to you is this: Feel Your Feelings. Understand and be grateful for those emotions, because they are part of this wild and precious life, to paraphrase the poet Mary Oliver. This is beautifully illustrated by the children's movie Inside Out.

On Fallibility

A story is told of a woman who is looking for her son as sacrament meeting is about to start. She looks everywhere and finally finds him outside the church, under a tree. She says gently, "son, church is about to start - why don't you come in?" He scuffs his shoes, and says "but...nobody in there likes me!" She replies: "son, you have to come in, you're the Bishop."

I don't know why I find that joke so funny, but I do. At its heart, it reminds us that in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, our leaders are *us* - they are fallible human mortals like ourselves. It can be frustrating in many ways, and there are certainly drawbacks to a lay clergy instead of a professional one. But one of the benefits in my mind is that we get to rub shoulders with our leaders and recognize their flaws in a shared community where we are trying to work together. After having a difficult calling ourselves, we are also hopefully more empathetic and less judgmental of those who have that calling after us. I know, after serving in multiple Relief Society presidencies in various capacities, that I will never judge another Relief Society President, because I've seen firsthand that it's hard!

Expecting perfection of anyone or anything is asking for disappointment. Placing an expectation of perfection on people can also cause anxiety for them as they strive to live up to the impossible standard we've created for them. This is true of our general church leaders, including our prophet. We need to do a better job of recognizing that the prophets, apostles, general relief society presidents are just people, doing the best they can to translate celestial ideas into imperfect language. In a church with millions of people, there are going to be a lot of different ways to say and do things, and we need to be better at being okay with that.

Similarly, expecting perfection of political leaders is just as infeasible. In the 2024 U.S. election, we seem to be headed to a rematch between Trump and Biden. When it comes to these two men, to me it is the easiest choice I've ever had when presented with voting! One man has 91 criminal indictments, insults anyone who disagrees with him, is vindictive and angry, and has cheated on all three of his wives! Further, he was a terrible and ineffective president, as many of his former employees have testified. 

Biden isn't perfect, but he's a good and decent man who tries to do the right thing. I do worry about his age, but honestly I would prefer a good old guy over a bad young one (and Trump is no spring chicken himself). There's an old saying that "you shouldn't let the perfect be the enemy of the good." In politics as in life, there is no perfection, but Biden is a pretty good option and in my opinion has been an effective president who's earned reelection. Nobody's perfect, but we need to be okay with that.

Fresh Courage Take

 My dog, Daisy, does not deal well with the unexpected. Garbage can on the sidewalk instead of the curb? She barks at it! A neighbor who she's seen many times before wears a new hat? Barking time! A construction vehicle is parked at the end of the street we walk down? She goes crazy! Daisy is not the smartest dog (yet also not the dumbest), but she barks at these perceived threats as a way of warning me and everyone else about them. She barks because she doesn't really know what else to do when confronted with a new situation. Now, I can't really explain to her that she doesn't need to fear these things, because I don't speak Dog. If I did, I could convince her to stop barking at every mail or UPS truck that drives past our front window.

So far, the best way of dealing with it is to tell Daisy in a soothing voice, "it's going to be okay." Then, I let her approach the garbage can/stationary vehicle/person and let her sniff and see it up close. She is usually able to determine that this person or thing is not a threat to her (except in the case of trucks, which she still views as mortal enemies for some reason). 

In some ways I am not unlike Daisy. I also don't do well with change. My life is pretty safe and comfortable, and I don't really go out of my way to step outside my comfort zone. Drastic change takes courage, and I lack either the willpower or strength to strike out bravely into the unknown. 

In the novel "To Kill A Mockingbird," the character Atticus Finch defines courage as "...when you know you're licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what." That isn't a quality I really find in myself. What is the source of that type of courage, and how do I get me some of that?

The title of this post is taken from the Mormon hymn "Come, Come, Ye Saints," which was written by Mormon poet William Clayton. The third verse reads, in part: "Gird up your loins, fresh courage take./Our God will never us forsake." Clayton wrote the poem in Winter Quarters, Nebraska, before he set out as part of the first group of saints to head to the Salt Lake Valley. Along the way, he was assigned to chart the progress of the company and measure distances, partially in order to help the thousands of others who would also be making the journey. Initially, he counted the revolutions of the wheel by hand and used the wheel's circumference to measure distances. Eventually, with the help of others, Clayton invented a wagon odometer that would number the wheel revolutions.

The courage of the pioneers was measured one step or one wagon wheel revolution at a time. They just kept moving forward (in some ways, they didn't really have a choice). And really, the only way to take that fresh courage that we each need is to keep walking forward, one step at a time, even when we know we're licked before we begin. It reminds me of the final scene of the movie "The Martian," where Matt Damon's character is teaching a group of potential astronauts about how to survive the dangers of space: "At some point everything is going to go south on you. Everything is going to go south and you're going to say 'This is it. This is how I end.' Now you can either accept that or you can get to work. That's all it is. You just begin. You do the math, you solve one problem. Then you solve the next one, and then the next and if you solve enough problems you get to come home."

Easter is usually associated (rightly) with hope. But this Easter, I'm wishing you courage for whatever challenges, changes, or obstacles you face. Gird up your loins, fresh courage take! Keep walking forward. Maybe I can do the same.

The Underrated Virtue of Duty

There is one very grumpy lady who I encountered on my mission, who I think of often. She would come to church with her teenage daughter, and sit on the very front row, but she was unwilling to engage with anyone. When I was new to the area, I approached her to welcome her, and she waved me off, saying "I'm only here because I promised Elder So-and-so, who baptized me, that I would come to church."

Now, I'm not saying that is the BEST reason to go to church. It's definitely not! But, as I get older, I've come to realize that being dutiful or doing something out of duty is an underrated virtue. We will all go through periods of "I'm just not feeling it." This can happen in work, relationships, and of course, church. But if we push through those periods, we can get through them, and often realize how valuable that experience or relationship is to us. 

A wise bishop once told me that his testimony wasn't some steady line that was always increasing. It zigged and zagged with a hopefully (eventual) upward trajectory. I've taken comfort in that during periods where I struggle with things. There are Sundays like today, where I go to church and even though it was a good meeting in many respects, I didn't have some amazing spiritual experience or uplifting conversation. Sometimes I struggle to feel like I belong in a church with a strong emphasis on marriage and children (I have neither, which makes me an outlier in my current congregation). 

But, wisely or unwisely, I keep showing up. Sometimes it is duty that gets me in the pews, and that's okay. I'm hopefully slightly less grumpy about it than the lady I met on my mission. Eventually it leads me to serving and loving others, which I firmly believe is the purpose of the gospel/church/religion in general.

Note: I don't judge anyone who doesn't find duty a compelling motivator for church attendance or anything else. I'm also certainly not suggesting a Gospel of Masochism where we do things as unthinking drones or drudges. But, I am suggesting that duty can get us through the "not fun" part of something that is important.

Solving (One of) The (Current) Mid-East Crisis(es)

There is a great joke in the classic Sandra Bullock movie "Miss Congeniality" (well, there are many great jokes in that movie, but this is one of my faves). All of the beauty pagent contestants are lined up to answer questions, and saying the one thing that the world needs. There is a montage of several contestants saying "world peace." Then Sandra Bullock steps up, and when asked what the world needs most, she says, "harsher penalties for parole violators...(*awkward silence*)...and world peace" - once she says "world peace" the audience claps and the announcer looks relieved that she got the "right" answer.

https://youtu.be/3st-Hai1y54?si=jL-pQdD1qRuW5pzK

The joke, of course, is that everyone knows the answer *should* be world peace. Knowing that is the easy part! The hard part, is, as ever, actually achieving word peace.

When titling this blog post, I wasn't sure if it would come off as flippantly talking about a tragic crisis. For my entire life (4 decades and counting!), there has been some ongoing crisis in the middle east. Currently, there are a bunch of terrible situations happening - Syria continues to be a hot mess, Iran continues to execute human rights protestors, and Houthi rebels are trying to take over Yemen and disrupt international shipping, to name a few.

But the crisis I want to talk about is the current chapter in the Israel/Palestine conflict. On October 7th, 2023, armed Palestinians slaughtered over 1,000 people and took hostage over 200 more. Many of those were Israeli civilians going about their daily lives. I haven't been able to watch the videos or look at pictures of many of the events, because my brain just can't comprehend the evil in killing/raping music festival attendees, shooting elderly holocaust survivors, and murdering babies. It's important to acknowledge these facts. Even if you think the Palestinian people have some legitimate beefs (and they very much do, in my opinion), we need to live in a world where we acknowledge that this attack was horrific and traumatizing. 

In response, Israeli forces have decimated the Gaza strip. It's estimated that 85% of Gazans have fled their homes, thousands of Palestinians have been killed (including far too many children), and 25% of the population is starving. Just as it is important to acknowledge the suffering inflicted on October 7th, it is important to acknowledge the fact that the Gaza strip is a perilous and horrific place right now. Just like with October 7th, I haven't been able to watch many of the pictures/videos showing the aftermath.

Despite the title of this post, I don't actually have a grand plan of how to solve this. Hamas is likely using innocent Palestinians as human shields in a densely populated area, which makes targeted Israeli strikes an impossibility. Rockets continue to fire from Palestine to Israel, making a ceasefire even more challenging and potentially one-sided if Isreal were to stop bombing Gaza.

The only truth that I can conjur up is that genocide does not justify genocide. If you believe an act is evil (and murder is evil!), you have a responsibility not to engage in it. Even if you have been wronged. I recognize that this puts a burden on victims of violence that is unfair and heartbreaking. The only way forward is to acknowledge the pain of your "enemies" - acknowledging that pain is hard. It means seeing humanity in those you have dismissed as fools, dupes, or worse. It means seeking that elusive world peace even when it seems far out of reach.

I hope to see President Biden's administration do more to pressure Israel - protecting the lives of Palestinian civilians is a moral imperative, even despite the horrific nature of the October 7th attacks.

For more on this subject, I recommend reading the wise sermons of Dr. Martin Luther King, who taught so eloquently of the destructive power of hate and the creative transformation of love.

Wishing, and Waiting, and Hoping, and Praying

Many years ago I was talking to a male friend, and he described one of our mutual female acquaintances as "boy crazy." It irked me at the time, but I let it pass because it wasn't really the time/place to get into a feminist rant (though, with age, I've come to realize that almost any time and place can accommodate the occasional feminist rant). "Boy crazy" is a way to dismiss women for not showing the appropriate level of interest in romantic relationships. Women can also, of course, be described as "frigid" and "too picky" - it's a really fine line to walk between seeming available and being too available - how does one even navigate this? 

As a perennially single Mormon woman, I probably spend too much time wondering about the "appropriate" level of time/thought/energy to my single status - have I given up? Am I obsessing if I spend a few hours swiping through dating apps? No matter what my answer is, it always seems to be the wrong one - I appear to be trying too hard or not hard enough.

Another experience from a few years ago: I was having dinner with family. The restaurant seated us at an eight person table - two seats for my parents; two seats for one of my brothers and his wife; two seats for my other brother and his then fiancé (now wife), and one seat for me - of course, this only added up to seven, so there was an empty seat next to me. I started to think: is that seat going to be empty forever? Given my current age and the life expectancy of Americans, I probably have another few decades of life on this earth ahead of me, at least. Part of me spiraled a little bit inside during that dinner: am I forever going to be the single one at this table (and all the other tables)? It feels like staring down decades of loneliness as I look to the future.

Logically, I know I am worthy of love - every human being is. But I can't help but feel like I am missing some essential characteristic that makes me attractive to members of the opposite sex. I don't mean to say that I am the sexiest or best person on the planet, in fact I am far from either. Just, sometimes it hurts to feel like there is no one in my life who chose me - a person who thinks I'm great not because I'm a good friend or because they are obligated to love me because of family connections, but someone who sees a potential future with me. I've never had a serious romantic relationship, and it feels like it must be my fault (and I'm sure, in many ways, it is).

Of course, part of what makes this hard is that I feel churlish complaining about it. I don't want my married friends/family to feel guilty or bad about being married - I'm happy for them! Likewise, in the grand scheme of life options on this planet, I have by far one of the easiest lives - I have food, shelter, transportation, health, loving family members who care about me, enough money to support myself, etc. It seems silly to complain and moan about my "single blessedness" when other people are struggling with far greater challenges.

Not to mention, "a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle" - I know that my self worth is not tied to being found desirable by men. I know this, and yet, still I yearn: I yearn to have a boyfriend/husband to share my life with and lie down with at the end of a long day. I want this so badly it hurts sometimes. And I don't know where to put that pain - it would be a lot easier if I truly didn't care. And sometimes that is what I want - to just be numb to this desire - to have it be taken away would be so much easier than caring. 

I think about a line from the musical Wicked a lot. Idina Menzel's character, Elphaba, is lusting after Fiero, a character who is dating her best friend. She sings a song "I'm Not That Girl" recognizing that she's not the pretty/popular girl who gets the guy. One line cuts me deep each time I hear it: "Don't wish/too hard/wishing only wounds the heart." To me, it speaks of the pain of wishing, with no actual hope of success. I wish I didn't identify with that sentiment. In the meantime, I'll just be over here, trying not to wish (which yes, I know makes me the continued queen-of-non-emotionally-healthy-responses to difficult topics).

Anyway today this was on my mind - usually I'm pretty successful in pushing it out of my mind and not thinking about it. I don't want it to consume my life, but some days I give in to a pity party and feel sorry for myself. If you've made it this far, thanks for reading.

Title of this post is taken from the great Dusty Springfield song.