Go back to bed America, your government is in control –Comedian Bill Hicks

Men are often responsible for “putting groceries on the table”, but it is usually women who shop for and prepare food for the family.  Unless you are one of those lucky women whose husband does the cooking, you are probably the resident food expert in your house. As such, it is assumed you are qualified to figure out how (and what) to feed your family.

Our meals reflect our cultural roots, our values and our lifestyles. What we eat is a vital part of who we are. In America, we have been fortunate to enjoy readily available, wholesome and affordable food, as well as an abundance of  choices. We choose the foods we think best suited for our families, that’s why I get concerned when outsiders want to step in and control our choices–like the meddlesome do-gooder who made a preschooler buy a school lunch of chicken nuggets, after declaring the turkey & cheese sandwich her mother packed unhealthy.

Say what?  That doesn’t make any sense, but increasingly there are many things going one with our food supply that are equally puzzling. For years we’ve been told to avoid foods with too much fat, sugar, or sodium. The government has urged us to refrain from eating processed foods, but now it seems our  government agencies don’t want us eating natural foods either.

The First Lady, has made it her mission to try to lower obesity in our children. It’s a noble goal, but public policy rarely changes private behavior. Prohibition didn’t stop drinking, speed limits haven’t stopped speeding, and “Just Say No” hasn’t stopped kids from trying drugs.  Likewise, there is no amount of government cheerleading or education likely to make those of us who enjoy eating, switch to rice cakes and water.

But, for the sake of argument, if I were to suddenly be motivated to follow Michele Obama’s lead, I’d probably start by eating the healthiest fruits and vegetables available. That would mean locally grown, organic produce farmed with sustainable methods, dairy products from grass pastured cattle, and meat from animals that hadn’t been pumped full of hormones. One would think that would earn me some points with the president who promised us the “greenest” administration, but it is just as likely I’d earn an FBI file for associating with food-producing felons.

Over the last few years increasing numbers of farmers, ranchers and other food producers have found themselves on the wrong side of the law, for doing what Americans have done legally for more than 200 years–producing food.  Take the very peculiar story of raw milk supplier James Stewart.  His Venice, CA business, Rawesome Foods, was raided by armed gunmen in something akin to a S.W.A.T. action.  Approximately 500 gallons of raw milk were destroyed.  Stewart alleges he wasn’t shown a warrant or read his rights, yet he was shackled, arrested, and held without bond for a bail higher than Jerry Sandusky’s.  Stewart also alleges he was tortured while incarcerated.

The raid was conducted under the guise of food safety, but those who drink raw milk, do so because they believe it has health benefits, not found in pasteurized milk.  Raw milk is occasionally contaminated by E. coli, and other dangerous pathogens, like those occaisionally found in the foods inspected by federal regulatory agencies. It is known that raw milk,  like other farm products can cause illnesses, but unless there is more to this story, it doesn’t make sense.  At least the customers of Rawesome Foods were required to sign waivers, stating they were aware of dangers associated with raw milk, before they were allowed to purchase it.

Then there was the case of the Food-to-Fork dinner party held at Quail Hollow Farms.  Guests paid to attend what should have been and exquisite harvest feast, but shortly before dinner was to be served, the atmosphere of the dinner party turned to that of a drug raid.  Ignoring those pesky laws prohibiting unlawful search and seizure, the food prepared for the occasion, was dumped into garbage cans and doused with bleach.  Once again the justification for the raid was public health and safety, though the food destroyed was arguably of a higher quality than what most of us regularly eat.  What happened at Quail Hollow doesn’t make sense.

This past month, legislation in Michigan required some hog farmers to destroy their livestock. The Michigan Department of Natural Resources called for the destruction of a certain natural resource,  known as heritage pigs.  These naturally occurring breeds were neither diseased, nor defective, but they threatened the business interests of larger pork producers who raise and sell genetically modified pigs.   With nothing more than a vague set of criteria, pigs that didn’t look like those bred by big pork producers were to be destroyed, or their owners would face felony charges.  Curly tails, floppy ears and colors other than pink, are enough to get those pigs the death sentence. In Michigan it is not permissible to eat natural pork, but it is perfectly acceptable for big business to eat small farmers.

Across the nation, there are attacks on American agriculture.  Water is withheld from farmers causing the loss of jobs and livelihoods.  Ranch and farmlands are seized to protect species nobody cares about, with little regard for the species of homo-sapiens, who will become endangered without food.  Activist groups, like PETA and Humane Society of The United States, won’t rest until America becomes a third-world country like India–starving while surrounded by environmental sacred cows. The latest assault on farmers, is the Labor Department’s attempt to overturn an American tradition, by making it illegal for kids to do chores on family farms.

Though most would would agree saving the planet, food safety and child labor laws are good, when things done in the “public interest” are detrimental to ordinary Americans, one has to wonder whose interests are being served. Campaigning in 2007, Obama vowed his administration would not cater to the special interests of agribusiness giants like Con-Agra, but despite his pledge, he was quick to appoint several individuals linked to agri-chemical manufacturers, like Dupont, Danforth Science, and Monsanto, to important government positions.

Baby boomers may remember Monsanto as the company who first gave us a glimpse of the future at Disneyland, but their  Tomorrowland exhibits failed to warn us of the environmental hazards they’d cause or the harmful products they’d create. Neither did their exhibits offer explanations of how they would repeatedly falsify data and bullly our government into approving the use of  products with known dangers.  Monsanto, whose exhibits promised a better future through chemistry, can now proudly claim among it’s contributions to America, the legacy of Agent Orange, PCB’s, dioxin pollutions, bovine growth hormones and bee colony collapse.

Monsanto has been charged with things ranging from polluting to violations of anti-trust regulations. They have have sued or threatened farmers, as well as those (like The State of Vermont)who call for laws requiring  labeling of genetically modified or engineered foods.  It isn’t surprising that Monsanto seeks to stifle critics and eliminate their competitors, as they seek control of an ever-larger share of the global agribusiness market, but it is shocking that they do it with the complicit support of our government.

If the government is so committed to food safety or the environment, why do they readily turn a blind eye to the corporate evils of companies like Monsanto? Why does the same government intent on protecting us from the dangers of raw milk and farm-fresh foods, condone the actions of a company with a long history of polluting the environment, endangering the public and tampering with our food?

The government would have us believe they are acting in our best interests, but a government that hampers the ability of a nation to produce its own food or allows a corporation to control the nation’s food supply is not acting in our best interests. Allowing the  farming, business and industry, which were once the backbone of our country, to be broken by high costs and endless regulations, doesn’t make any sense, unless our government is working against our interests.

Deb’s Note: Though this post addresses recent events, Monsanto’s foothold in our government precedes the politics of the current presidential administration.

Sometimes ordinary people do extraordinary things, and we eat it up with a spoon. We go crazy when we hear stories about things, like school children raising thousands for charities or housewives launching successful companies in between P.T.A. meetings.  Unfortunately, we are just as amazed, but much less impressed when extraordinary people do ordinary things.

Amy Winehouse was an extraordinary personality, with an extraordinary talent. The naked emotion in her songs, combined with her unique voice will be the last living will and testament of a life cut short.  Sadly, a persona as grandly scaled as her hair, fueled the media and public’s appetite for news of her troubled life, causing some to forget she was an ordinary person who just happened to be extraordinarily talented. Under all that wild living was a troubled girl, who knew she was living dangerous.  She knew her path was one of self-destruction, but our media-driven culture shows little compassion toward high-profile personalities, when they wrestle the same demons as society’s lesser-knowns.

I don’t care much about the life & times of celebrities, but the news of Amy Winehouse’s death saddens me.   Since my first hearing of Winehouse, I have been fascinated by her roots in North London, her training as a singer, and her descent into ever-darker places.  Her foray into music, began at an age when most of us are still trying to figure out who we are.  As her voice & talent became the driving force of her life, she hardly had time to develop a foundation solid enough to withstand the challenges of young adulthood.  Like many other young stars, she quickly became a victim of “too much, too soon.”

Her music was an exposé of pain; her songs those one would expect from someone who had been around long enough to know stuff it takes a lifetime to learn.  Except, she hadn’t lived a long life–she‘d lived a short life on hyper-drive. Death by fast living is cliché, but I have often thought fast living speeds up the hands of time, causing one’s life clock to run out sooner than intended.

If she hadn’t recorded the hit song Rehab, we might have never have heard of her, but she also might have been seen as a more sympathetic character.  Some will say she chose her own fate.  In songs and interviews she often acknowledged  her own self-destructive ways, even suggesting her own death in her early writing.  This causes those who would judge her, to ask, why, if she knew she had problems, didn’t she just quit.

Those are the same people who say things like:
Fat people should just stop eating.
Alcoholics should just stop drinking.
The emotionally damaged should just start coping.

It’s all so simple to those who don’t understand the nature of addiction.  Those who have been there, will tell you it isn’t so simple. With addictions, the desire to use is constantly battling the desire to quit.  That would be struggle enough, without the additional complication of the effects of one’s chosen “opiate”.

No matter how big the personality, sometimes their problems are bigger. The same sensitivity that causes some to be able express what others feel, can also cause pain that seeks to be anesthetized.  Michael Jackson, Marilyn Monroe, Karen Carpenter, Ernest Hemingway, Judy Garland are all reminders that talent is of no use in dealing with pain. Considering the difficulty we all experience over incidences of public embarrassment, is it any wonder celebrities crumble under the pressure of having every mistake or misstep scrutinized and magnified by tabloid journalism?

There will always be those who live their lives in unforgettable scale. Amy didn’t wake up one day and decide to become a drug-addled disaster–anymore than Belushi planned to die in a Sunset Strip hotel.

Social media provides a glimpse into the collective reactions to her death. There are those who have already condemned her as her own killer, those who will see her timely induction into the superstar death club with the likes of Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison and Kurt Cobain as a fitting tribute to her talent, and those like myself who will grieve her death along with the sadness that she died before she’d left a bigger discography. The most compassionate reactions will come from those who knew her best.  Instead of seeing her, as a train speeding to disaster, they will remember that before cocaine & heroine, there was once just Amy–a nice Jewish girl who went astray, a girl whose dalliances with drugs & alcohol, displaced the life she could have lived.

India’s caste system–for most in the Western world, it’s incomprehensible to imagine our life’s destiny being determined before our birth,  and reprehensible that the caste system assigns value to individuals regardless of character.  I was surprised to learn, the idea behind the caste system is reminiscent of the Bible passage which states every person has a function, like the organs of the body.   The function of the eye is not like that of the heart, but each is vital.  The caste system is intended to help the function of society, but to me it is dehumanizing, detestable and primitive.

Yet, in our own society, we often employ, or are subject to, systems of social ranking. Just as in India, where castes are determined by birth, our destiny can be the result of where we were born or who we were born to.  Our skin, our body, or our economic disadvantage can become a damaging label, out of our control.  It is ridiculous to allow education, fame, career, appearance or economics determine status.  Nevertheless, being being born in the wrong place or not being able to afford the same things as others, can leave one stranded on a lower rung of the social ladder.

It’s a caste system–unsophisticated and ugly.

I was thinking about this, because of something that happened to someone close to me.

There was a woman who was highly-esteemed by all who knew her.  A beautiful and gracious socialite, active in her church and community, she was always invited by the ladies who do lunch and A-listed for cocktail soirees. Her company was always in demand.

Then, the phone stopped ringing.

There were no more engraved invitations.

The church ladies avoided eye contact.
Carpool moms made excuses for why they couldn’t drive her children.
Old friends became former friends.
People who knew her crossed the street, to avoid interacting.
She was out-caste.

It wasn’t anything she said or did. Everybody who knows her, would attest she’s the same beautiful, kind and generous person, she was before her social demotion.  She was kicked out the inner circle of the beautiful people, when someone in her family was charged with a crime.   She was punished for the actions of someone else.

It happens.  Whether it be our children, siblings, or spouse; there are times when people near us do things which cause us to suffer emotionally, and sometimes socially.  When a teen gets arrested for drugs, a spouse is charged with DUI, or a relative is implicated in a scandal, one may find  themselves being treated as an accessory and punished as such.

It is unfortunate, but there may come a time, when like a modern-day Jesus, you find yourself paying for the deeds of someone else; being punished or judged wrongly because of things you didn’t do.  No man is an island.  It is natural to feel embarrassed when loved ones behave badly, but it is also important to remember who you are.  You cannot be  responsible for all the actions of everyone around you.

Just as importantly, we need to remember friends in these kinds of situations, need to know they have not become untouchable to their friends.  We are individuals, we are not the people who surround us.

Buying lunch at my favorite hot dog stand, there is an attractive man in line next to me.  The hot dog man asks if we’re together.  Unable to resist the temptation  to quip, I tell him we’ve recently separated.   The handsome man laughs as he says, “We’ve never been happier”.  With  mock hostility, I respond, “We’ve never been more miserable.”

Such is the case with marriage and divorce.   While divorce can be a tremendous relief from an unpleasant situation, the relief is often counteracted by the residual resentments that cause it to become a continual source of contentious misery.

Within your social circle, there is probably a couple who makes everyone wonder how they got together.  Likewise, there are probably couples who appear to perfect in every way.  Against all odds, the unlikely couple stays happily married forever and ever, and the perfect couple one day shocks their friends by announcing plans to break up.

Recently, a friend went public with his decision to file for divorce.  There was an immediate backlash from his well-meaning friends telling him he shouldn’t or couldn’t.  The friends assured him that he and his attractive wife were perfect for each other.  Surely,whatever differences they had would be worked out.

About that…
I recall a friend who described his former marriage as the “couple in the perfect picture”.

Another said, “In public, my spouse looks perfect.”

Another was blindsided, when his sweet-as-honey wife turned into the woman who had no conscience.

No more than we can figure out why the odd couple is perfectly happy, can an outsider see the intimacies of a marriage or determine why “the perfect couple” isn’t.  Just as every marriage brings joy, every marriage brings pain.  It is the yin and yang of marriage which requires constantly trying to recalibrate and adjust to someone who is not like us.  Whether our differences are large or small, our success in marriage is contingent on how well we can tolerate OR work through our differences.

From the outside every marriage is only the picture presented.  Once upon a time, marriages were more likely to last longer, but it doesn’t necessarily mean they were happier.   An outsider cannot see or understand the private dynamics that make a couple succeed or fail.  It is precisely because of this, we are surprised when we learn of a couple splitting after decades of marriage, but the decision to divorce is rarely made in haste.  Many couples stay married longer than they’d like to, if there are children or financial issues to consider.

Just as we smile for cameras, a troubled couple may look better at cocktail parties, than in marriage counseling.  When the issues become overwhelming, couples may try repeatedly to salvage their marriage.   Perhaps, every issue can be resolved, but often one or both individuals becomes too exhausted to continue trying–especially if numerous efforts have failed.

The dissolution of a marriage is waking up from a pleasant dream and realizing an unpleasant reality.  When we choose to marry, we believe in forever.  Nobody would walk down the aisle, if they believed forever could be so temporary.

From the beginning, I hoped to write about all kinds of things, including the things people don’t talk about.  I was committed to was a series called Bended Roads.  It was my intent to get people had been through bad stuff, to let other people know what it was like–in the hopes it would be helpful to others who felt alone in similar experiences and also to give empathy to those who couldn’t relate.  Unfortunately, many of the difficult things we face come with a measure of shame–as if we are responsible for our own misfortune.  Because of this, putting these features together presented a greater challenge than I’d anticipated.

The courage of those who face the worst of life, and bounce back is only surpassed by the courage it takes to turn their own pain into hope for others, for this the individuals who have agreed to share their stories are worthy of admiration, for what they’ve endured and for their willingness to talk about it.

The first of the Bended Roads addresses something many face–depression.  Just as some people call every headache a migraine, some people call each day that challenges them depression.  Real depression can afflict people when everything is going great. For those who have never had the floor pulled out from under them by depression, they’ll tell you there’s more to it than just being bummed out.

The friend who wrote the following knows of what he speaks.  This former colleague, was a cheery individual always at the top of his game.  Until he told me his story, I never realized that he had successfully masked the despair and pain inside him.  In this first Bended Roads feature, he shares a bit of his experience after having climbed up from the depths of depression.

______________________________________________________________________________________

.

“This guy’s walking down the street when he falls in a hole. The walls are so steep he can’t get out. “A doctor passes by and the guy shouts up, ‘Hey you. Can you help me out?’ The doctor writes a prescription, throws it down in the hole and moves on.”Then a priest comes along and the guy shouts up, ‘Father, I’m down in this hole can you help me out?’ The priest writes out a prayer, throws it down in the hole and moves on “Then a friend walks by, ‘Hey, Joe, it’s me can you help me out?’ And the friend jumps in the hole. Our guy says, ‘Are you stupid? Now we’re both down here.’ The friend says, ‘Yeah, but I’ve been down here before and I know the way out.’”

I won’t try to douse the fire.  I’ll just say it: depression is real. The infliction is painful. The tragedy undeniable. It’s acid to the soul. And yet…surprisingly…there’s a way out from that state. Not all depression is the same. For some it’s caused by the chemical imbalance. For others, such as myself, it was created by  external factors. Sometimes understanding the source of depression is like attempting to arrange the contents of one’s vomit based type and/or size of debris after it’s been expelled to recall what you ate and caused the disorder.

I had suffered with life-long depression for more than 30 years. The periods of my darkness were caused by external events in childhood that were never addressed, which festered without treatment, understanding or love. Over time, it culminated in a near-fatal conclusion.

In my own life there was no one source of depression, that kept reoccurring. It began with abuse as a child, which was not addressed.   It went untreated because I had not sought help…I couldn’t.

For a snapshot of my background: I wasn’t raised in a warm and loving home of parents and siblings. When one was in trouble: they were on their own.  If you had troubles in your life, you were liability and you were treated as such. Expressing one’s feelings was not encouraged.  Support and love were not commonplace. I was conditioned to withhold my true feelings. Some families are like that; but, you really cannot call that family.

The abuse originated with an outsider; so, in my mind, when you cannot turn to anyone as a child, how can you seek help from others? I had no one to turn to for support, understanding or help – and I remained in that state for many years.

What develops is a twisted logical to the illogical; what occurred was a life of based upon feelings of fear and shame.

That’s no life.

When other bad things happened over the years – it was a confirmation that life was bad and I was the only one  who had went through these things.  Yes, I know, that’s untrue. We all have issues, but I had nothing to compare it to. I was never exposed to what others endured in their own lives. I kept myself distant from others so. I never got close to anyone. My own shame and aloofness was reciprocated. What people saw of me was a façade that allowed me to hide from the world. No one ventured to learn about me. I shared with no one the hurt, because of my shame and guilt. “If they only I knew…what they’d think of me….”

The fact is … I had little respect for others; I distrusted people based upon a bad experience and actions of others. I believed all people were insensitive and the source of all that was bad. Yet, like all things Human, I still held out an ounce a hope that there might be one or two who could be a source of good and hope.

I found more than one or two.

Let me take a step back and make this one point: one of the challenges with depression is that we think we are alone. That’s a lie, which is borne from fear. When depression strikes, we become withdrawn. That’s natural, but depression isn’t something we can heal without help.  The only way to start on the way out of our holes is finding those who have been down there, too. Before things became terminal for me – perhaps out  of self-preservation – I opened myself to a couple of people and they responded with kindness, love and support. Healing begins when we seek help and when we learn the truth, that we are never alone.

Over time, others’ told me their stories and troubles. From their experiences, I gained their advice and benefited from their wisdom. I listened and considered what they had to say to me. It was still up to me to heal my pains, but now I had the support of others who encouraged me with love and understanding.

I never knew there were people like that. In time, I learned the world is filled with such people – in abundance. They were always there. I just had to ask for help. More than three decades of suffering from various depression periods have ended. Their final toll was that I had lost everything from possessions to self-worth, but I what I gained in return covers those losses tenfold.

The healing continues this day, but the last of the debilitating depression is gone from my life. I confronted and dealt with the issues that needed to be addressed and sought the answers I required. Our lives are formed and shaped by our experiences, the good and the bad. Plain and simple. That’s just the way it works. That’s life rhythm.

We cannot let the fires of fear and shame consume us or extinguish our existence. If we are to confront our challenges and problems, we need to express the pain and seek the help of understanding. We need to be ourselves at all times and we need to be willing to show our emotional wounds. It’s the best way to begin the healing.

Believe me when I say, “I’ve been down here before and I know the way out.”

Written by a friend of de blog

.

Not even on a whim or a dare, would you  walk down an aisle to say “I do”, if you had any idea that one day marital optimism, might be replaced with hurt  or anger.  You would most certainly turn and walk away, if you had any indication that someone you could love so much, might devastate your heart.

You might be reluctant to have children, if you had any idea what kind of heartbreak they are capable of causing.  Maybe you would have opted out, if you had considered that your own might come with personality defects, mental illness, addictions, unanticipated health problems or even untimely death.

Perhaps you would have clipped coupons, washed Ziplocs or saved soap if you could have anticipated stock-market crashes, layoffs or housing market downturns.
_____________________

Above is an excerpt from a piece that was previously run to introduce a series of pieces about the stuff people go through–the hard stuff.

I had hoped to be running these pieces much sooner, but have realized that while getting people to talk about their private pain is easy; getting people to talk about it publicly, is hard.   The first of these pieces will run this week.  In the meantime, the following link will take you back to the original post, if you’d like to read more.

http://www.deblogsite.com/2010/03/22/bended-roads-places-you-never-wanted-to-go/

http://www.deblogsite.com/2010/03/22/bended-roads-p…r-wanted-to-go/

Would that it weren’t, but this is a cautionary tale.

Those raised on Snow White and Cinderella believe marriage to be a “happily ever after”.  Sadly, sometimes “forever and ever“ is short-lived.  There are lots of fairy tales, but alas life isn’t one.

This is the tale of a friend of a friend–I know it sounds suspect, but it‘s true.  Though I’ve never met her, I know her story well.  Like a school play,  recast and re-enacted season after season, I’ve heard this one before.

She was married–married a respectable long time.  Everyone who knew her, believed she was happy.  She wasn’t.  Her marriage was stagnant and she was lonely.  She might have stuck it out longer, had it not been for the other man.  She wasn’t looking for someone else, but before long she had fallen in love with someone who was not her husband.

I’d tell you her name, but it’s immaterial–and unless you are living in one of the better zip codes of Utopia, you can probably insert a familiar proper noun into this, not so far-fetched, real-life Mad Lib.

It was never her intent to start something else, it just happened.

(Yeah, I know it’s cliché, but Hans Christian Anderson would assure you it is perfectly true.)

Her husband was too preoccupied to notice that she was unhappy and too preoccupied to notice when she became preoccupied.  What followed was unintended.  She fell in love.  Fortunately, or unfortunately for her, he fell in love too.

The double lives they lead left them both conflicted.  She eventually she left her husband.  She didn’t leave to be with this other man, she left because she was unhappy.  She left because her husband had failed to make her feel loved.  Nevertheless, the other man gave her the motivation and courage to give her former king the goodbye-look.

Then they lived happily ever after.

NOT!

Did she love him?  Wholeheartedly.
Did he love her?  Absolutely.

While both were still married, they had envisioned a fantasy life together.    So what was the deal breaker that turned this fairy tale into an unpleasant fable?   Was it just another case of “Why sell the cow , when you can get the magic beans for free?”

You might surmise that they moved in together and found out they were incompatible, or that perhaps the spoiled princes and princesses from the previous unions became a contentious issue, or maybe he lost interest when the object of his desire was suddenly available, like a knight, who once in possession of the holy grail, begins to seek a new conquest?   None of these is true.

Did he suddenly discover that he loved his wife more than his lover?  Maybe, but I don’t think so.  Before I share my own conclusion, let me tell you how the story ends.

She started over financially, emotionally and was ready for her prince to take her to a castle somewhere–except for one itsy-bitsy little detail–he was still married.

When she had made the decision to leave her husband, they had planned to marry.  She would be free, he would leave his wife–they would live happily ever after.  A Grimm’s fairy tale in the making, except this one becomes grim in a most unfortunate way.

Grimm and his other tale-telling pals forgot a couple details–the ones usually spelled out in pre-nupts.

Her knight had stuff.  There were the heirs to his kingdom to consider, there were castles and lands to be divided, and there was a royal legacy of past memories. He loved this woman and would have loved to have made her his wife, but in short, it was too complicated.  He had too much to lose.  His castle wasn’t perfect, but it was more attractive than renting a thatched-roof cottage in a village far away.

Being a believer in fairy tales, I am convinced he had at least as much fondness for his lady-in-waiting, as for his wife, but he wasn’t ready to sacrifice half his kingdom.  Leaving her meant giving up half of all he’d spent his life building.  Not only that, but the honorable part of him, filled him with a sense of duty to the woman who had been there when he’d been out conquering and building his kingdom.

As lonely as Rapunzel locked in a tower, she lays awake at night crying for this Jack of Hearts who jacked her heart and her well-being.
He still lives in his castle, perhaps at night  he lays awake dreaming of the damsel he distressed.

She has nothing.  He has everything he had before.  She has become Sleepwalking Beauty, with her life on hold, while everything around her goes on as before.

I wish the story were unique, but I have been privy to the tales of more than one woman who lost her heart in this kind of joust.

Sometimes the story has a different ending.  There are men who leave their lives for their lover–especially if the princess comes with a dowry better than the stuff they stand to lose–you know, jewels, riches, cattle, or a better castle.   Men who promise to leave their wives often don’t, and the ones who do may not be as gallant.

.

Everyone has parents–at least in theory.

.

We are all conceived by someone–a male and female pair theoretically responsible for caring for us.  There are big differences in how parents care for their offspring, needless to say, some do better with that responsibility than others.

.

If your parents did well, you probably remember when your parents met all your needs, cared for your well-being and protected you from harm.  They probably helped you do things you couldn‘t do for yourself and drove you to the places you needed to be.

Like pictures that have to be viewed from a distance in order for the picture to be seen, we are too close to our parents to see all they do, or to realize there will a come a day when they won’t be doing it.

By the time we start to appreciate them, most of us are fully immersed in our own parenting adventures.  After having once convinced ourselves we no longer required their input, we begin to see they are older and hopefully wiser.  They are older.  They are wiser.  Then one day they are just older.

If you are fortunate enough to have your parents near when you are raising a family, they can be very helpful.  They provide useful back-up and a great source of help.  They can even be like support staff–then one day you find you have become theirs.  Weaknesses, illnesses or other circumstances can cause them to need you the way you once needed them.

Since by the time this occurs, we’ve usually gained a grateful appreciation for our parents, it would seem natural for us to enjoy being able to give back, but the juxtaposition of the parent/child roles causes tensions which make it less than enjoyable.

An aging parent may require assistance, but be reluctant to admit this or they may fear the loss of autonomy.   Additionally, a 70- or 80-year old who has usually known more than their offspring, may not be ready or willing to receive well-intended suggestions.

By then you’ve  learned how to be a parent, but you may then be required to learn a different kind of “parenting”–not so different from parenting a difficult teen.  If you’ve raised one or remember being one, you know the rapid & uncontrollable changes to the body & mind of a teen can cause difficulties for them and you.   In a similar way, a senior parent is facing physical and mental changes for which they aren’t fully prepared.  It’s very similar, except with teens the outcome is usually better.

An older person can be frustrated by the rapid weakening and slowdown of their body.  If they have lost mental clarity,  they may no longer realize what they need.  Just as with teens, they may believe you are don’t trust them, are trying to ruin their life, not allowing them their independence or any number of other familiar scenarios.  Consequently, those entrusted with the well-being of an aging parent may feel like humanitarians trying to do a good work in a hostile country.

At some point, the “child” may be responsible for making decisions for the parent.  Some of those decisions will be of little consequence, like which kind of milk to buy–but others may have life-changing significance, like where the parent should live, what kind of medical care they need, whether or not they are able to manage their own finances and quality of life or end of life decisions.

It’s rarely easy.  If you find yourself caring for a parent you adore or one who is easy going things, things can still be difficult, but if the aging parent has of depression, loneliness or dementia, the tensions can be overwhelming.

Most of those who find themselves in this kind of situation do what is required out of a sense of familial duty.  When things are at their worst, it is not uncommon to hear caretakers apologetically wishing for the end.  It is neither uncommon, nor immoral to wish for what is inevitable.  The end will come,  leaving behind questions about whether the right decisions were made and maybe even wishes that there had been a little more time.

Not even on a whim or a dare, would you  walk down an aisle to say “I do”, if you had any idea that one day marital optimism, might be replaced with hurt  or anger.  You would most certainly turn and walk away, if you had any indication that someone you could love so much, might devastate your heart.

You might be reluctant to have children, if you had any idea what kind of heartbreak they are capable of causing.  Maybe you would have opted out, if you had considered that your own might come with personality defects, mental illness, addictions, unanticipated health problems or even untimely death.

Perhaps you would have clipped coupons, washed Ziplocs or saved soap if you could have anticipated stock-market crashes, layoffs or housing market downturns.

There isn’t a one of us that would eagerly take on a challenge if we had knowledge of how quickly things could change for the worse.

Whenever people around me find themselves in unexpectedly difficult situations, I am saddened.  The part of me I refuse to acknowledge, is relieved– maybe even happy, that I’m not in their situation.

There are many things that can change our lives in an instant, most of them catch us blind.

It’s part of the human experience.  It’s life.  It’s unpredictable.  It’s unfair.

Nevertheless, people in difficult situations usually summon the strength to cope with what seems impossible.   Seeing this humbles me.  I marvel at ordinary people being stronger than seems human.  Most remarkable,  NONE of us expects to be in situations that require everything we have just to navigate each 24-hour period, but many have and many of us will.

Coping with crisis is lonely.  There is rarely anyone near who can fully understand, but in each case, only the situation is unique.  The pain is not.  This is almost impossible to realize when one finds their self grappling with pain almost too big to withstand, but the truth is someone else has felt pain of the same magnitude.  This was the idea behind de blog’s category bended roads.

Think of it this way:  One day you’re driving on a pleasant enough road, the journey is in progress and you’re on your way.  Without warning, the territory begins to change, and you find that the road you thought you knew has bent and taken you in a direction that wasn’t on the map.
Nothing is familiar.
You’ve never been down this road before.
You are lost.
You can ask for directions, but this area is unfamiliar to even the locals.  Trapped in something like a maze, you try to find a way out.

Bended roads:  places you hoped you’d never visit.

Deb’s Note: The first of the bended roads features is coming soon.  If you’re lucky, you won’t be able to relate, because it be about stuff you’ve never experienced.   Even if you are lucky, I’m hoping these features will help the unlucky, to realize there are others who have been there.  More importantly, I hope these pieces will help the lucky few to better understand those places.

There were some very poignant responses to Dirty Little Secrets (3/9/10)  Though some chose to comment publicly, others sent responses privately.   I said before, I know too many victims.  This week, that number was increased.

For victims and those close to them, the piece was a reminder of old & painful incidents. Many are still keeping painful secrets.

With that in mind, I invite all readers to name any violators they know. Those inclined to do so, may use the contact tab to send the first name of anyone who has made someone else keep their dirty little secret.   I will only print first names.  Each name will be added to a list here.  I’ve named this list The Does’ list of John Does.

It is purely symbolic, but perhaps naming them, will be a first step for victims to find the voice needed to tell those secrets.   Everything will be confidential except the names.  I will not publish anything that will expose victims.  They’ve already been exposed to too much.