I'm a bad depressive citizen

A post by my favorite blogger:

http://www.theferrett.com/ferrettworks/2014/03/how-to-be-a-good-depressive-citizen/

Yeah. I'm depressed and my supposed emotional support network of friends and family has basically shut down. So I'm a bad depressive. I write about family issues on this blog because I feel I don't have any other outlet. Some of the communication breakdown was my fault.  I didn't want to call people I haven't seen in a long time only to dump my issues on them.

Some people have been great about this.  There are people on facebook that really helped me get back some perspective and talk things out with my mother.  The vast majority of comments have been positive and supportive.

With a few exceptions.

One supposed friend told me I was a horrible person to say anything in public about my mother.
Another friend decided that it was hurtful to her that I didn't want to personally dump all of my issues on her specifically, even though we talk less than a few times a year.

Fine. Maybe I've fucked up my life even further by taking the only avenue I felt was open to me. Maybe I've found out more about who my friends are.

There are some people I owe phone calls to.

Follow up on Family

I exchanged some emails with my mom about the racism argument from last week.  I'd been considering posting them here, but I feel like that would be a breach of her privacy.

Basically, I sent her an email explaining why I said what I did, and why her arguments shocked me.  She's replied that she and my stepfather see my point and apologized.

But then I had to raise the issue on what she said about me, personally.  Her response was to take a day to think about it, and then reply that she didn't know what she meant by it at the time.  But that she would never intentionally hurt me and doesn't think badly of me.

So I guess it works out.

Except that I still feel betrayed, and there's guilt mixed in there too.  Because I feel that she might think I don't have a right to feel this way at this point, after she's apologized, or might hold it against me.  Maybe she doesn't.  Maybe she wouldn't.  But after last week, I can't just blindly trust in her anymore.

Part of the issue is that at the end of the argument, she treated me like a child.  Telling me that if I didn't want dinner, I could wait in the car.  We were ten minutes from my house.  My mom and I tried to talk about this on the phone last night, and she seemed angry.  As if she couldn't understand how I would leave in that situation when she was being nice enough to give me a ride home from central MA in the first place.

But I'd asked her to take me straight home after the argument.  She could have stopped for dinner after dropping me off - only ten minutes away.  But she'd rather I wait in the car like a stubborn child or a dog while they had dinner, because I'd disagreed with her.

That's humiliating.  And she doesn't understand why I don't find it acceptable.  Yes, it was very kind of her to drive me home.  But that doesn't mean I become less of a human or less of an adult.

Now it's on me to decide what happens to our relationship.  How I want this to go.  Mom doesn't want anything to change.  She got upset when I said that this might have changed our relationship - How?

I don't know.

Family and Racism

We were in the car, a few miles down the road from Friendly's, about to stop for dinner on the way to dropping me at home.  My stepfather in back as a courtesy to my motion sickness, my mom driving, and me in the passenger seat. It was the start of rush hour and we narrowly avoided a collision with two other vehicles.  My mother and I exclaimed on the terrible driving and relief of safety when I heard from the back seat: "Other diver must have been a niggro".
"Really?" Me, shocked.
"What do you mean?"
"Did... did you really just say that?  That was really racist."
"Negro isn't racist, they say it."
"I don't care if they say it.  It's still racist.  And what do you mean they?  As far as I've seen, most black people don't like that word."
"Well are you sure they're black?  Are they African American?" asked my mom.
"What does that even matter?"

I couldn't believe I was having this conversation with my parents of all people. It didn't end there, and it did get uglier.  Eventually it was my mom that decided to make it into a personal attack.
"Are you ever wrong?  And do you admit it when you are?"
It was the way she said it.  As if I was purposefully instigating a fight so I could arrogantly assert my "rightness" - instead of trying to speak up to my parents on something that makes me incredibly uncomfortable.

Somewhere in there, my stepfather apologized and asked us to stop arguing.  I said thank you, but I'm trying to discuss this with my mom.  She tried to turn it into me being ungrateful for her care, and I realized that she really must think I'm that stuck up to be able to say things that way.  I wondered how long she'd thought that, and I asked her to just take me home.  She said they were going to dinner, and I could either come in or wait.
I didn't say anything.  What could I say that wouldn't make it worse?
When she parked the car, I got out and walked out of the parking lot and to the plaza across the street, and started calling friends to find a ride home.

I've always been really close with my mom.  She's always had very liberal and democratic views.  Hell, that's how I ended up the way I am.  She's only been with my stepdad for about six years, and he's always been republican and a little off-color.  But it wasn't until the both of them started trying to justify using the word "negro" that I realized that they just refused to listen that times might have changed since back in the day.  I honestly don't know how to deal with this, especially since my mom seems to have been holding me in veiled contempt for who-knows-how-long.

A friend tells me that benign or ignorance based racism  is a problem with baby boomers.  I just have a problem of my own.  Is there a way for my relationship with my mother to be repaired?  Or will it just devolve to nominal communication and uncomfortable holidays?

The Breeder vs Shelter Debate

To begin, I will always advocate getting a shelter dog, always. You will literally save a life by doing so. However, I know not all people are comfortable with the shelter decision, so I wanted to touch upon all of the options out there, when someone is considering adding a family member to the pack. This is for anyone who may not be educated on how some of these options work.

The biggest questions to begin with is, are you ready to have the dog anywhere from 8-16 years? They live a long time, and would like to spend all of that time with you. Do not drop them at the shelter when they turn gray because you just can't stand to see them deteriorate in their old age. It's not fair, and is heartbreakingly confusing to them. Do you have time to walk them several times a day? They are living animals. They need their exercise and stimulants just like you and I do. Plus, they live to spend time with you. You have your whole life, friends, work to occupy you. Your dog only has you. Be their friend. Are you financially stable enough to get them their yearly shots and checkups at the vet? Or buy their dog food every month? Every little thing adds up, and I think a lot of first time dog owners don't fully understand the cost of keeping your dog in the best health they can be in. If even one of these things doesn't work for you, then now is not the time to be looking for a dog.

If you are ready to get a dog after all of the considerations, then it is now time to figure out where to get them from. First, don't ever buy from pet stores. This only fuels their revenue, and keeps puppy mills in business. The puppy mills will continue to pump out puppies in poor health due to the torture of the poor parents that are tightly caged to breed them. The same can go for irresponsible, smaller breeders. Don't keep those kinds in business. It's a tough enough task to find loving homes for all of these "unwanted," unhealthy dogs as it is. We don't need them churning out any more. And when you purchase from them directly, you just fuel their business and continue the torture for those poor dogs that are stuck in that system.

The unfortunate reality of most puppy mills.

Now, I don't disagree with breeding entirely, but there is a huge difference between a puppy mill and a responsible breeder. And I understand that there actually are responsible, smart breeders out there, and I commend them for raising litters the right way. After all, we can't stop breeding dogs entirely. Without responsible breeders, there would be no more dogs. However, even if they are raised the right way, it does not guarantee that the new owners will do the same. There is a common misconception that any shelter dog has issues. It obviously is unwanted by the previous owner because it has a defect, or is aggressive, or it just "doesn't want to listen," right? I mean, why else would a perfectly healthy dog be in the shelter then? (Heavy sarcasm.) Well, in most cases, the cute puppy the couple bought for their kid got too big, and they don't want to deal with it anymore. Or, they are moving and their new residence doesn't allow dogs, or dogs of a certain weight, or dogs of a certain breed. Or, a couple bought the dog together, and now they broke up and neither wants to keep it on their own. Or, they have a baby and assume that the dog won't be safe around them. NONE of these reasons are due to any defect or attitude of the dog itself. The dog was just unwanted by a family they loved. And this goes for all types... Purebreds and mutts alike. It's amazing how many purebreds are found within rescues and shelters. It's an unfortunate misconception that only mutts are in shelters. (Although mutts are my favorite kind!)

**Here is a link to the AKC website for a list of RESPONSIBLE breeders**

https://www.akc.org/press_center/facts_stats.cfm?page=responsible_breeder

So the next time you think of purchasing from a breeder, do your homework. Are they responsible? Do they have any complaints? When you go see the puppies, do the conditions look healthy and safe? Really do your research.

But even before all of that... Please consider a shelter dog. Breeders will always find homes for their puppies, that I assure you. If you don't take them, someone else will, trust me. Not to mention, they are already in a home, and do not face the risk of being euthanized at any moment.

**Pet Finder is a wonderfully easy website to find dogs in your area by breed, sex, age, etc**

http://www.petfinder.com/

And if you just don't think you want to "risk it" with a shelter dog, consider going to a rescue at the very least, where the dog has been in a foster home and they can report more accurately on the dog's behavior and condition, if that is what worries you. When you pull a dog from a rescue, it frees up a spot for another dog in the shelter, to go to a loving, foster family environment until they find their forever home.

OH MY GOODNESS how can you say no to this face?!

But all of that aside... We rescued our Tiger boy from a shelter. He was picked up as a stray and went unnoticed in the shelter for THREE MONTHS before we came across him. We met him once, and he actually didn't want anything to do with us. (Don't expect an instant connection at the first meeting. Pay attention to volunteer notes from the shelter. The dog may just be shy, since this is their first time meeting you.) Fast forward two years later and he is currently curled up by my feet as I type this. He is always at my heel, so much so that I joke that we should've named him Shadow. The vet compliments him every time we go in, because he is in picture perfect health. He is the best, most mellow dog I have ever owned.

This is the actual photo of Tiger we saw on Pet Finder that made us go meet him!

I understand that Tiger's story may not be the same for every shelter dog out there. But I can tell you with certain confidence that a shelter dog will always, always love you. And isn't that the point of getting a dog anyways? To love something, and to be loved, unconditionally? I really believe a shelter dog knows they got a second chance... And they will love you until their last breath if you let them.

If there is any point to my crazy dog lady rambling, it's that I hope you make a smart choice when you purchase your new family member... whichever avenue you choose to go. And I would hope that you wouldn't turn your nose up to any of these options, as I truly hope that most of us are in for the common goal... To give a dog a loving home.

And if you are a huge softie, like I plan to be someday, open your home to those dogs who are less fortunate. An old face doesn't mean an old heart. No sight doesn't mean they can't see right through to your soul. Less legs doesn't mean that they won't run to you with all of their might when you come home. And no hearing doesn't mean they don't listen to what you say. These dogs need homes and love just as much, if you are willing to give it.

This is Emma, from "Everything Emma" on Facebook. She is unable to use her back legs, but have you seen her viral video on youtube when she dragged herself so excitedly across the hallway to see her daddy who just got home from Afghanistan?! Grab some tissues.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2317357/The-heartwarming-moment-disabled-dog-finds-special-burst-energy-drag-greet-Air-Force-owner-returning-Afghanistan.html

All in all, love can come in all forms from all different places. Please consider saving a life before you decide to go to a breeder. And if you still decide to go to a breeder, just please be smart about it.

Did They Send Me Daughters When I Asked for Sons?* (Spoiler alert: Yes!)

I read the New York Times Room for Debate on “Are Modern Men Manly Enough?” the other day, and it infuriated me. The current trajectory of deciding to attack men and masculinity because it’s no longer PC to attack women and femininity is really frustrating. Gender roles are frustrating and problematic, and I’m going to leave it right there.

Yup, right there.

I did not find any persuasive arguments in that particular RFD: I agreed with the common sense authors, and found those stuck in Leave it to Beaver, well, stuck in Leave it to Beaver.

It did, however, get me thinking about what I think a good man is, and subsequently, my father and his father. My grandfather died earlier this year, leaving behind a legacy of gentle faith, natural living, and beautiful carpentry. All his sons learned woodworking from him, though my father is probably the best at it because he uses it the most often. (Don’t worry, uncles, you’re both very talented also!)

My grandad built me a dollhouse when I was six, and a carved pen and pencil set when I was twenty-three. My dad completely restored the house I grew up in. It’s not for me to say whether or not we should always follow in our parents footsteps, but reading that RFD made me realise how much the builder’s aspect looks like love to me, to my family.

Love also looks a lot like this. That's my granddad. And a wild fawn.

So, I’m going to learn woodworking from my dad. I’ve always wanted to, but never had the wherewithal to just go down to his woodshop and start helping him. Like me, my father is an introvert, and the shop is very much his space.

But it’s not just about love and family tradition. It’s also about practicality. The other half of modern culture where I live (and who I’m friends with) is “throw money at the problem until it goes away”. I am firmly entrenched in this camp. My brother can reshingle a roof. My mom can fix and replace pipes. My dad can… do everything. I can write blog posts, make cookies, and make you a mean martini when you get home from your hard day. If something breaks, I wail into my candy-striped apron until Lennon fixes it.**

I have some basics down. You don’t grow up in a family like mine without getting excited about sawzalls (my parents each have their own) and tablesaws and knowing to watch your fingers while you’re cutting that plank because that’s how pop-pop lost the top of his. That led me to tech theater in college. I can build a set. But, I couldn’t build you a chair. Or a cabinet. Or a door. I can’t install a doorknob. Or sand a floor. Or put up real walls.

Ultimately, I’m hoping the tutelage will turn to finishing the master bathroom - the very last room to be done in the house my parents bought twenty years ago. I learn by doing. I should have all the practical DIY skills I need by next year.

And next Christmas, everyone gets reindeer made of pipe sockets and copper tubing.

*To clarify my title, my father was tickled pink at having a daughter. I am the only girl child in my family. 

**To clarify that entire paragraph.

Babies, babies and more babies

I was in Texas with my boyfriend for Labor Day weekend and after the excessive summer heat of the south I am so happy to be back in New York where fall has decided to grace us with her lovely presence.  I am also appreciating my life as I always do when I return from a trip; my perfectly soft bed, my conveniently located closet full of dresses and shoes, and the ability to do pretty much what I want to do when I want to do it.  I love traveling and seeing new places, but I also always love to return home and revel in the things that I had been taking for granted before I left.

The reason I am extra pleased to be back in New York after my latest trip is because we were in Austin, Texas to visit my boyfriend's brother, his wife and their three month old son.  Now before I get myself into trouble here let me make the disclaimer that I thoroughly enjoyed myself and had a lovely time hanging out and getting to know my boyfriend's family.  They are really chill, sweet people and the baby is about as cute and well behaved as you could possibly imagine, which is pretty darn cute.  But we stayed at their place and worked on their schedule, which is always a little stressful.

But the heat was easily escapable with central air and swimming in the creek and the house was immaculately kept and my boyfriend's family were excellent hosts keeping us as comfortable and as entertained as possible.  What really ruffled my feathers that weekend was the sheer amount of time that we spent with the baby.  The baby was cute and barely cried and is practically my nephew, but I just don't like babies that much and a five day vacation that revolved around a three month old was just more than I could handle.

I don't really know what it is about babies or myself that makes me want to leave the room instead of coo over them, but I have never really had any interest in small children.  Sure I had baby dolls as a kid and I did a decent amount of babysitting and teaching children various activities at summer camps, but I always preferred working with kids closer to the age of ten where they could articulate themselves and have something interesting to say about the world.  And for all my capabilities and motherly instincts and experience working with children of all ages I still would rather go to a museum than gawk over a baby's smile.

They kind of smell funny to be honest and I mean they smell funny when their clean; they smell horrifying when they are dirty and soiled.  And they are pretty boring too, all they do is sit there and stare at whatever you put in front of them; I just don't see what is so entertaining about a baby making random sounds that have nothing to do with anything.  And as soon as the baby isn't happy things get really ugly.  Messes are made, screaming ensues, and no one can focus on anything but the kid and no rest is to be had until the baby is pacified.

Maybe I'm selfish, maybe I'm just young (I'm only 24!) or maybe I'm a product of my generation and am just an independent woman and a confused college graduate more concerned with what I am doing with my life than if a baby can hold it's head up by itself.  I do think that it is strange that I feel the need to explain myself to everyone who asks about my relationship with kids that I am not some monster of a person or a disgrace to the human race I just don't like babies and whatever the reason may be I don't think that is such a crime.

Of course it really isn't a crime and I suppose no one is really judging me too harshly based on my reaction to babies.  I'm actually pretty fortunate that my family is more concerned with my career and my well being then having grand-kids.  But I guess my concern stems from the only person's opinion that I am truly concerned about.  As where I have no interest in babies or having kids at all for that matter, my boyfriend gets a doe eyed look when he watches his nephew squirm in his car-seat and I guess there is the dramatic, irrational part of me that worries he is going to leave me if he realizes how I really feel about babies.  The reason this is a ridiculous notion is because we have talked about kids before and I have told him all the plethora of reason I don't want to have children and he has so far shown no signs of dumping me or even pressuring me to change my mind (because he is amazing!)  But my dramatic side is not governed by the silly rules of reason and I worry that there is something wrong with me, I worry that my boyfriend will find someone who is ready to settle down with him, and I worry that I will decide to settle down myself one day and miss out on so many amazing experiences.

I suppose at 24 no one (except for myself since I often feel more like I'm 80) really expects me to have a baby of my own (or my life "together") and no one really cares if I want to hold the baby for an hour or only a minute, but sometimes life challenges you with experiences that you are not ready for.  And during the hours that I find myself unwillingly in charge of a tiny human I have to trust that the 80 year old in me will know how to handle the situation as gracefully as possible.  And so my weekend in Texas, while long and more stressful than I prefer my vacations, is over and was really quite nice now that I look back on it.  And while I'm not home free from babies since my boyfriend's other brother lives much closer than Texas and also has a small baby in tow, I am for the moment relieved to be baby free.