Then I remembered that a different uncle died last week.   This one doesn’t deserve the title ‘uncle’, so from now on he will be called Greasy.

My first memories of him include fear.  As a toddler, I was afraid of him.  I tried to avoid him whenever possible.  Even remembering this brings back the feeling of a sunny day suddenly turned grey and chilling.

I’m sure he had redeeming qualities.  I just never knew him.  I look back on his life and see how he hurt my aunt and my cousin and I know that colours how I think of him.  If I had seen him in any context other than trying to control or belittle them, I probably could see his humanity and mourn the loss of it.  For now, I just mourn his poor choices and am unaware of his good ones.

The last time I saw him was a few years ago.  Instead of a toddler’s panic I felt sadness and a bit of disgust.  He verbally abused my aunt and limped around as if he was a bantam cock instead of a man artificially old from too much smoking and drinking.

I’m glad he is gone.  I am sorry I feel that way, but I do.  I’m relieved I will never have to see him again and I hope my aunt will finally be free of whatever hold he seemed to have over her.

Farewell, Greasy.  I hope those you’ve left behind will be better for it.

It started when we went to the dentist, travelling south. Lil’T asked if we were going to my work which is northwest. I informed her we were going in the opposite direction. She didn’t understand.
I listed as many opposites as I could think of (hot/cold, light/dark, etc) until she got it.
We talked about being similar which meant that some things are different but a lot of things are the same.

Then she asked for a story.

I told her about Rosa Parks.

Then we talked about how some of the light skinned people used to think the darker skinned people were opposites instead of similar. Since the light skinned people loved their children, they would assume someone opposite would hate their children. If someone was nice, an opposite person would be mean. Because many thought of people with different hair or skin as opposite instead of similar, they were afraid of them and made rules to keep them apart.

Rosa and many others thought this was silly so they made a stand. They were tired of being treated as the opposite of fully human. Lil’T loves that part. Since we had watched a Disney movie about Ruby Bridges, a 5 year old black girl who went to a white school, she knew all about racial segregation.

(We started watching the movie before I realized what it was about. Lil’T loved it because in the end the mean kids became Ruby’s friends. I almost turned it off when the movie showed angry people holding black dolls in coffins as little Ruby walked into the school.

Lil’T, however, thought they were just giving Ruby presents in boxes.)

“And now we know better! Black people can go to school with everyone or sit or eat wherever they want! We’re not opposites!” Lil’T was so excited, and I immediately felt embarrassed and conspicuously white.
I reminded her the rules had changed a long time ago, but attitudes change more slowly. Maybe I was reminding myself.

Then we talked about opposites again. I said some words and Lil’T had to tell me if they were opposite or similar. She was pretty quick until we got to dog and cat.

She paused. “Four legs, furry, good pets, like to be scratched behind the ears…. similar!” She pronounced.

“What about boys and girls?” I asked.

“Similar!” she said with no hesitation.

I’m glad that she can find more in common than to separate.

I have to remind myself of this when dealing with certain people. Our worldviews may be opposite in many ways, but we still have much in common.

We may have different definitions of love, but we all want it.

We aren’t completely the same, but we aren’t opposites.

This is the part where the recently squashed person now receives a vomit of lovey phrases, flowers, and other such bribes in order to make the person doubt themselves and the seriousness of what they went through.  The person is supposed to be confused about their previous hurt and temptation to label the abuser a bully.  They are now supposed to reflect on what a nice abuser they have and label themselves crazy and unworthy of their abuser’s love.

We have gotten several emails assuring us of Peaches & Cream’s love for us.  While I don’t doubt their feelings are genuine, I am not buying their line that we can all have a close and deep relationship again.  Nor do I agree that real love requires “brutal honesty”.  (Her words.)

There is also a gift coming in the mail.

One of the emails supposedly demonstrating their love was sent to all of the offspring.

I am  parent and I disagree.  I also have parents that I know love, pray and care for me very much, probably more than I know.  I don’t hate them.  I never have.  They are not my worst nightmare.  I don’t want to be this for my kids.

So, honeymoon fail.  We aren’t going on that trip.

Instead of responding to Cream right now, I am sorting my thoughts out here.  Constructive feedback is welcomed.

The following are a few excerpts from email conversations.  We are in black, in-laws are in colour as the emails were.

“I know this is about much more than the painting itself. We are not trying to rebel against a certain subculture that you have adopted just to agitate you. Actually, that is how it appears to us. Especially when you mention further down that we have not given you freedom to be yourself …. then this can be viewed as an act of   ..hm..not sure what word to use …… so there! now let’s see what you say.   You are also parents.  One day you will look back on this and understand completely where we are coming from in our questions. “

So there?  Seriously?  Does this deserve a response?

“Isn’t this how in extreme cases seemingly good people end up doing horrible things, such as those who went along with Nazi cultural movement (or countless other examples I could use)? Yes, those who stood up against them faced consequences. But don’t we now seem them as heroes, and the conformists as cowards?  well, as i read this paragraph it could also support someone(like me)  challenging (questioning)  behavior that I feel could be  hurtful to others.   –sometimes unintentionally. Sometimes intentionally. Sometimes just to make a statement, sometimes not.   Would you consider me the conformist? or the challenger? And where do you place yourself? Conforming to your generation? or challenging it?    ……depends on the culture, depends on the generation.      and how do I see you at this time?    I actually see you as right in the middle of a movement of people your age who are challenging  anything and anyone in authority over them, who are re-defining God because they don’t accept that love comes with two sides … including consequences for behavior…..  and who believe that they have more knowledge than their parents, seniors, leaders, and that they have an enlightened knowledge of life, of God, of truth, and claim to hold values that are based on society and will fluctuate with the times ….  ……..    that could be another interesting discussion.   These are actually not my words….. but I agree with them…  Am I completely clueless?  Maybe.  ”

So, I can’t accept that love can come from two sides.  We had this conversation at Christmas.  I stated it was not loving to command genocide and I could not accept that genocide could come from love, ergo the god of parts of the Old Testament was not what I call loving.  It is what I call abusive.  Cream disagreed.

” I see truth as being lost , fear of speaking truth because of the consequences, fear of being brutally(used as per the sermon on sunday)  honest with anyone because of being considered ‘judgemental” or “opinionated” or domineering or bossy or bullying or ….. the words go on. But because the truth is not being spoken, generations are growing up with world values and that has no solid base at all….. what is ok today, will not be ok tomorrow, or in the next generation ..   we would be seeking do what we want, what makes us happy and “others” in your life become secondary.  God’\s main commandent is to love God , then to love others as you love yourselves.   that is no longer apparent in some of the issues that are coming up in this day.   

“I can understand that growing up in an immigrant family, you faced incredible pressure as a child to conform and adopt to the new culture your family was living in, to avoid being persecuted and bullied. I know that Great Opa ____ dealt with being bullied as a child, even in ____, by becoming a bully himself (Oma told us these stories), and this has inevitably influenced you growing up. Please don’t try to bring up ideas that have not come first from us. I don’t think this is something we have ever discussed with you so I am not sure why you think that you know where we stand on that. And I don’t think you are correct in your view …at least not of our family.     

No, we discussed the relationship between the grandmother and her father with the grandmother.    We didn’t discuss it with Cream nor did we say we thought we knew where she stood.    We do not need Cream’s permission to talk to her mother.  I think our mistake was to say it has inevitably influenced Cream.  Fair enough, I can apologize for that.

“We felt that to ask your permission to hang the painting, or to take the painting down out of fear of your unwarranted reactions during your visit, would be a way to let you bully us around. Permission? bullying? I am sorry that you feel  tthis way. that you refer to    my questions as bullying. I was referring to respect.  It is interesting that this was a topic of conversation between you…..   I am sorry that it was. but it does help me understand some of it.  I am starting to think that I have had a completely different idea of where you were at as parents with children, adults, living far away from us …….    To dictate your fear-based ideas(not fear, dan,  love and concern for others)  of behavioural conformity onto us.

I understand from this that she feels her saying they would not enter our home if the picture was hanging was respectful and loving and that the only way we could be respectful and loving would be to have not even had it up to begin with.  Our questioning of the manner that we were talked to was disrespectful?  I am so confused.

“If you wanted to have a discussion about the painting or whatever else, we could have done that as mature adults. It feels like you’re now treating us as disobedient, ignorant and unruly children.Again, it is interesting that you feel this way.  Are you unruly? disobedient? These are your words,  not mine. Sometimes there is truth in what we think and perhaps we don’t always see the truth in our own lives.  Sometimes, it takes someone who loves us, and dares to speak to us in love, to clarify a behavior or a motive…..   

What do I say here?

“Keep in mind, if you had asked us politely and respectfully to remove the painting during your visit we would have done so, even though disagreeing with why it should be removed. We would never have asked you to do anything in your own home that you did not want to do. The question still is that we would have accomodated our beliefs by being able to control our own actions.   Never yours.  ”

I am confused again.  Their refusal to enter our home with the painting is accommodating their beliefs, but respectfully asking us to take it down while they visit is wrong?  Am I confused because I am expecting this to make sense?   Is the only ‘respectful’ option to want to agree with them?  Or am I missing something else?

This is nursing from my point of view.  I can understand that people may be uncomfortable with the amount of mammary glands used and I would not be offended if they asked not to see it.   However I would remove it temporarily with the understanding that the painting itself is not inherently offensive.

Has anyone seen ‘Meet the Fockers’?

Cream has informed us that they will no longer visit our house.

She is worried that our children will have no friends.

She also hinted we could lose our children if social services find out.

She wrote that we’ll find out the truth when we die. I sense in her writing a tinge of glee in the thought of being proven right as we go to hell to suffer for eternity. I want this to be my imagination, but …

The reason for this onslaught of doom: a painting hung above the computer.

I did a self portrait of my nursing my baby. I love it. I wanted to remember what it was like to look down on my babies as they gazed up at me. To remember that connection of so many levels. The baby and the baby’s eyes are the focal point of the picture and exactly what I saw as I breastfed.

I have seen many drawings and photos of women breastfeeding, but never from the mother’s perspective. I didn’t want to forget either the joy of new eyes locking on my own or the pain of engorgement and let down (think electrified toothache). I wanted to remember and to share that intimate mother-bond experience.

Apparently what I see as mother-love, Cream sees as pornography. I do remember the face-book blocking and angry emails sent when I had a photo of my bare shoulder and a naked laughing baby as my picture. Because of that, I talked about taking down the sketch during the in-laws visit with my father first.

He is a photographer and framed the sketch for me. He also was the editor of La Leche newsletter when I was a baby. But he is also very sensitive to other people and a peacemaker. He still saw no problem but none of us were aware of Cream’s anger towards seeing breastfeeding babies.

Cream states that we did this to spite her, shock her, dis-respect and dis-honor her (her spelling).

She also writes:

“nudity is ‘almost always’ sexual” (The baby is nude, I find her statement more than troublesome.)

“it [would] my duty to report this to social services … in today’s age of sexual abuse… my child would not return to your house to visit”

“until I know that anything has changed I do not feel welcome or comfortable in your home as long as you are making this statement… I will remain elsewhere.”

My lover wrote a calm and thoughtful response explaining why we feel it is healthy for children to see breastfeeding and how harmful that hiding bodies and being ashamed of them had been to himself personally. He explained that we had thought to take it down remembering the explosive reaction Cream had to my Facebook picture but that no other people from my parents to professors to coworkers had given us negative feedback but instead assured us there was no problem. In the end, we didn’t take it down because we were busy and had forgotten all about it.

Cream replied:

“That is dishonest and disrespectful to me. To ask others, and not me, only indicates that perhaps you also feel that your choice of hanging the picture might have been considered inappropriate”
Was she mistaken on the reasons I did not discuss this picture with her!

“I am sorry you do not understand at this time… my concern is only for the girls”

She said we called her “out to lunch”, which we had not in any sense. We said that we appreciated her many strengths but that did not stop us from learning things on our own.

“Have you really been fair about making that judgment (about being ‘out to lunch’ and old-fashioned – again, her words, not ours) about me ? especially if you had really read what I have written?”

The hypocrisy gets me at this line. I have to laugh. Sad laughter.

She was right that I do want to make a statement with my sketch, I wish to say : breastfeeding is beautiful, bodies are beautiful, mother-love is beautiful.

Of course I would take down the painting if they ever come to visit, but I will not retract that statement.

She informed me that she lost respect for me and that I would have to earn it back.  I feel like I have lost more than respect for her – I have lost the ability to be myself around her or share my values and passions with her and I no longer feel safe leaving my children with her for long periods of time.  I grieve the loss of a potential friendship based on mutual respect.  She remains a beloved grandmother, but one who will not have the opportunity of unsupervised time with my girls.

I self-harm.  In different ways.  For different reasons.

The most common way I do is pulling at my hair called trichotillomania. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trichotillomania

It is calming.  I focus on the broken end and zone out.  The rest of the world blurs and I can’t see or hear clearly.  Minutes will pass, sometimes half an hour.  I have no memory.  Often I do not even realize I am doing it.  It is automatic.

My triggers are boredom and stress.  Anxiety, clutter, deadlines, tiredness, sunny windows, mirrors, and self-loathing work too.

A ‘helpful’ commenter asked the Bloggess to think about her 5 year old daughter seeing her self-harm as inspiration for stopping.  Guilt does not stop something likely triggered by guilt.  I know.

I tried various techniques to stop it.  I used to go up and confess at every altar call I could.  If I really loved God, I would hate this sin enough to stop.

Self-hating techniques backfired, so I tried telling myself that I loved my hair.  Which would work until a trigger happened along.  Angry at my failure, I would punish myself with more tearing or something else like overeating.  Or just name calling and begging forgiveness from God for a worthless sinner chained by sin.

(via pixi-jls-deactivated20101221-de)

If I couldn’t stop for God or myself, maybe I could for my husband.  Maybe I could love him enough to stop.

It didn’t work.

Then Lil’T came along.  I had to stop for her!  Or she would do it too and it would be all my fault!

It got worse.

I don’t have a magic answer.

If I take my vitamins (heavy Bs and Mg) it is much better.  I can manage my triggers a little.

I do this more now after having kids, but at least I don’t punish myself for it.  And I no longer think of myself as the one person with shameful secrets.  That in itself is a relief.

(via ofthefaeries)

I tried to be socially acceptable with my socially adept in-laws.  I had instructions not to talk about certain topics and did pretty well.  This was made easier by running off to see my cousins where I was free to laugh at inappropriate jokes and stories about an aunt who called her daughter’s back massage tool a vibrator.  In church. (snicker)

However, there was a book at the in-laws house called You Lost Me.  It was about the grave problem of 20-30 year olds leaving evangelical Christianity and what the fundy church should do about it.  I read the first few chapters.  There was fear-mongering and a few select stories shown to illustrate the author’s views of why people left.    Love of science was included as a reason for leaving, but only because there were not sufficient Evangelical role models in the scientific community and no other reason.

There was also a large portion dedicated to proving that this generation is fundamentally different from any others.  Instead of valuing hard work, we supposedly value pop culture.  Yes, we are a lazy, selfish, shallow generation concerned with celebrities instead of God.  According to some.  No matter that we actually work more for less than our parents’ generation.

While packing a lunch for the road, I mentioned I had skimmed through the book.  I wanted to say 2 things.  One, that the book did not accurately describe myself or any of my friends.   And secondly, that James Fowler’s Stages of Faith would give more insights into our journey.  I assumed it was the faith journey of her children my m-i-l was most concerned about.

I never got to the second statement.

I was told that I was wrong about my first observation.  The author had done his homework and surely knew why so many 20-30 year olds were leaving.  Obviously, I am too young to understand my own thoughts.

Not only that, but it is too bad that young people now don’t know their bibles like our parents and grandparents’ generations do.  This surprised me.  From conversations previous, I discovered that my lover and I had a greater knowledge of the bible than my in-laws.

Not only were my lover and I Quizzers (meaning we memorized much of the New Testament and went to competitions), but we are nerds.  We have many translations and used to love going back to the Hebrew and Greek and compare the words in different passages.  We’re not bible scholars by any stretch, but as children we believed those who told us studying the Bible was one of the most important ways to spend out time.  We started reading through the entire bible at ages 6 and 8.  I’m not even sure anyone else in his family has read the whole bible.

Before you think I’m bragging, believe me,  I wish I had spent that time hanging out with friends.  Or even watching Simpsons.  (We weren’t allowed.)

“Really?  You know the bible better than we do?” I asked.   The quizzing part of me was ready for a bible duel.

Pause.  Clarification: they might not know the actual bible more, but they did know how to interpret it better.  I hadn’t memorized catechisms, only most of the New Testament (yes, I’ve forgotten most of it).  Otherwise I too would remain as steadfast in faith as the grandparents.

If I knew church doctrine, I would know that the Old Testament was really about cruel people, not a cruel God.  God needed to demand innocent children be killed.  He is merciful like that.  I was being sinful by questioning God.  Obviously my mind was too small to understand how mercy and judgement are intertwined.

“I guess some people can manage larger cognitive dissonance than others,”  I was able to say.  Everyone agreed with that.

I tried to finish my opening sentence when I was informed that my generation did not listen.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or roll my eyes.  Then I was saved by my peacemaker husband who said he needed my help with something.

I recounted this conversation to my father who asked me if I did listen to people’s reasons of why they stayed in church.

I have listened to my in-laws reasons many times.  I don’t agree with their reasons, but I used to say the same things.

Leaving was not easy.  Not at all.  I could only face things when I had a social support network that did not require  me to hold any particular belief.  I stayed in the fundy mindset for too many years for many reasons.  I don’t judge people for staying.  I know some people have more to lose and less resources to pull them through.  Some feel needed in a community and just don’t want to hurt others.

I do, however,  feel free to judge people who use the word ‘listen’ to mean ‘agree with me’.

One of them believes that Obama was not born in the USA.  Newt Gingrich is reasonable and fair.  The US was founded on the bible, but Michelle Bachman’s desire to return to biblical law is just another form of Shari’a.

He also believes anyone moderate (read: not extreme right) is an extreme Lefty.  He is a right-wing libertarian and thinks he has earned everything he has and those who have problems deserve to suffer.  After all, he is doing fine and doesn’t want to pay for lazy people to have nice TVs.  Or maybe health care?

Oh yes, and the cross has nothing to do with Christianity.  It is a universal symbol of “crossing over”.  Too bad ‘universal’ applies only to English speakers.

The other describes our government as “corporate communism”.  He believes we will soon be made into official slaves of the government and this will be good since the only change will be that we won’t have to pay taxes anymore.  Take heart though because Christ will return soon and end our slavery.

The part that scares me about these men is that we have a lot in common.  Besides common ancestors, we share other annoying traits.  Like a love of basic physics and lack of social skills.  Or a love of arguing but only if we are the only one talking.  I guess that is just a love of lecturing with the illusion of audience participation and agreement.

A few years ago we also shared the delusion that our little church group was favoured by an almighty God above all others and would eventually rule over said others in an eternal afterlife.

While I can gloat that at least I don’t share the massive conspiracy theories they both ascribe to, we really aren’t so different.

Which isn’t all bad: they both adore animals and small children.  If you need a hand, they will be there.   Maybe not if you are on welfare, though…   I’m not sure.

I do have irrational fears of small enclosed spaces.  And swarms of small children.  And preppy clothing stores.  (Serious, I do get panic attacks from the above.)

I do have irrational beliefs.  But I don’t know what they are!  I think I’m every bit as balanced and rational as my two relatives.  And that scares me too.

Interesting.

People who are determinists really have less motivation to act morally than those who believe in free will, since they can’t do much anyways.  They are less likely to be emotionally healthy.

I just listened to a podcast interviewing Marcel Brass, a neuroscience researcher.  http://commonsenseatheism.com/?p=12153

Perhaps all of our discussions about predestination, determinism, and free will are a waste of time.  We may never be able to prove things either way, but we can know the effects of different beliefs.

I have a lot more incentive to act morally now that I know I can’t just ask for forgiveness and the magic God will make everything better.  I took a lot of comfort in the instant forgiveness and power of a being who could work all things out for those that loved him.

However, knowing that I have responsibility and agency in my choices helps me a lot more.