Crisis? What crisis! I've got wisdom. Week 8

Never had one! The crisis anticipation factor was definitely aroused by all my friends and family, but nothing of note ever actually transpired. There was a little episode of Porsche desire, but it came and went so quickly it barely made consciousness. It took but a moment’s reflection to conclude “…just what in the world would you do with that? There isn't a road built around here you could drive that in the way it was designed to be driven…”

Truth be told, my life proceeded along such full and interesting paths, I honestly had little time to reflect on whether I was facing a crisis of age or accomplishment. That is not to say things were always easy and crystal clear on this path; they were not; often it was more a crisis per day. But the path was always interesting, engaging and fulfilling.

There were often moments of wondering just where my life was headed, but it seems things pretty much took care of themselves, as long as I paid attention, worked diligently in the moment and listened to my intuition – a knack that was slow to develop. Doors closed and doors opened; often requiring courage and sacrifice to step forward. In retrospect, I’m pleased that I took those steps.

For many years there was an underlying current of fear; the fear of winding up on the street, homeless, penniless – an abject failure.  A fear that was rooted in an authoritarian upbringing so structured there were few decisions I was allowed to make. Tack onto that the oft heard pejorative “…you’ll never amount to anything…” Add into the sauce of my childhood, the parental ingredients of depression era kids in want and need; and their own childhood woo – woo made its secretive way into my subconscious. Took some time to understand myself in light of all that and I’m grateful for the degree of enlightenment to date. And, well, there was that another thing. So it seems there really wasn't a great deal of time to have a crisis; perhaps one day I’ll understand that it was a drawn-out string of crises; but I don’t believe that will be the case. 

I find agreement with Kessler’s perspective when he states, “…all people make psychological transitions and adjustments in the course of middle age; relatively few experience these as catastrophic.” As he states, my experience also includes divorce, being fired, and serious illness – and the awareness my birth year was becoming a part of my very distant past. My appreciation concerning all the turmoil, trouble, achievement and joys, was the understanding these events and vicissitudes were all a part of “normal” life experience – and it was my path alone and not comparable to the paths of others or theirs to mine.

So midlife crisis? Meh – not so much.

Gallagher’s closer regarding the onset of wisdom I found to be spot on. One may occasionally considers the prospect of “going back” in life and re-doing certain parts. ‘Prolly not; the premise is one will take along the accrued wisdom and apply patches to past situations. The premise is of course faulty, for I would be just as ignorant as I was the first time around.

I wouldn't trade where I am now for all the chances in the world to rewind for a re – do. I definitely find myself aligning with the “environment – minded” researchers who believe the influence of attitudes, interests and relationships provide a flexible model of adult development. Reflecting on my experiences, it is clear they strongly point to development and change that continually refocuses my understanding and perspectives of life and the world around me.

Baltes is correct in his assertion that the brain slows down biologically, as I can attest. But, I do use knowledge and information differently and more effectively. Exactly how these adaptive strategies operate, I cannot fathom; I unconsciously somehow rapidly apply experience and knowledge as situations unfold. And the outcomes often reflect that I am still learning.

I’ll close with an anecdote that illustrates the discussion of wisdom. My closest brother was a “back-seater” in an F-4 Phantom fighter jet. His title was Weapons System Office or WSO – pronounced wizzo. Or in their vernacular “GIB” – the guy in back. He flew in the Air National Guard, which has pilots typically much older who still fly. During combat fighter maneuvering, the crews experience punishing g-forces.  The older crews are not physically capable of keeping up with the maneuvering of the younger pilots. However, the older pilots will typically out maneuver their younger counterparts because they fly smarter – with the wisdom of lessons learned.

Sunshine & Shadows - Week 7

Love blooms feeling good;

Secreted darkness creeps out,

Breaking cherished bonds.

Split or Stay - Week 7

I was particularly intrigued by the Kirn article “Should You Stay Together for the Kids”. My thought processes were pretty much like a ping pong game. Back and forth regarding Ms. Wallerstein’s postulates, which based on personal experience, I tend to support; or at least tend to want to support.

Here’s why. I was raised in a small rural Minnesota town. My dad was a very successful dentist and my mom a very successful mother and housekeeper. But there were deep seated issues between the two of them mostly over my father’s ongoing infidelity. Mom even served him papers once, but he bought her off for $10k. Such a deal! They did stick together and were civil in the process, even to the extent of the occasional hug and peck.  Which, at some level, speaks of love not quite lost. Or thespians!

Why did my dad hang on? As a locally well-known professional, he was of the generation that counted “appearance” to others as most important. He would have been the talk and gossip of the town if a divorce occurred; and I don’t believe he could countenance having his personal life in the public square (not that he’s affairs were a secret).  I don’t believe his ego (which was considerable) may’ve survived. So he stuck it out. Pride can crowd you into some interesting corners!

For my mom: she was a high school grad whose highest occupation had been selling tickets at the local bijou – the precipitating cause of their meeting and eventual marriage. She had no skills in an era when most women were in charge of the household and there was simply no employment market for her to enter. Besides, she knew want first hand, as a depression kid. Her dad was a vet, but times were so tough, she and her brother walked the railroad tracks to pick up coal that fell off the trains. So she stuck it out. The fear of want can crowd you into some interesting corners!

I cannot calculate the emotional impacts to my parents. My mother would pick her fingers raw and was a compulsive spender; things the analyst’s couch never divined. My dad suffered a nasty peptic ulcer, which was a several week, bi-annual, eggshells and tiptoe time. Counseling was for psychos.

And for the sibling group of three: my brother and I are eighteen months apart – I lead in age. We were aware of the tensions, but there was never any overt hostility displayed and it sorta felt ok, even though we knew at some level it wasn’t. The loss of nurturing and socialization did impact all of us in our early and middle adulthoods – a story for some other time. The youngest brother trailed us by almost ten years and I think felt the insecurities the most; perhaps evidenced by his enuresis until age fourteen.  The upside is we always felt truly like a family. Meals were always together, conversations were about current events, mini lessons in civics and things intellectually stimulating. There was structure, routine and responsibilities to attend – lifelong building blocks.

So, I appreciate Wallenstein’s position; because I believe our sibling group was/is much better off for our parents making the best of it. I know my mom would often say we kids were the only reason she stayed on. But as we’ve discussed recently in class, the cultural socialization of our society has undergone dramatic shifts in the few decades since my childhood. And that socialization/cultural norms shift has pretty well minimized/erased those older concepts/reasons for staying together. This I believe makes it almost impossible for couples with marital dissonance to consider alternatives to divorce. True, there are those that seek counseling and do manage a reconciliation of the dissonance; but for many, the statistics suggest otherwise. 

And I further believe the lack of dual parental nurture, love and socialization is woefully inadequate in single parent households for the reasons amply stated in Kirn’s article.

Here are a couple of vignettes from a long time ago and a land far, far away. It is tale of two couples. Once upon a time, I was an apartment manager in the Chicago area. And in this complex were forty units. And living in this complex were two Indian couples from the sub-continent of south Asia. As I wandered the halls and did my manager things, the presence of curry always announced the approach to their apartments.  But aside from the similarity of the curry the two couples presented diametrically in deportment.

The one couple could be frequently heard involved in VERY loud arguments and sometimes other not so reassuring sounds.  I was sometimes called by neighbors to quiet things a bit. Even though a sense of anger was usually about them, they were always polite, he definitely in control, she dutifully in position three steps to his rear. Their abode was usually not picked-up, neat and tidy. The other couple was quiet as mice, always pleasant, both chatting with me in a friendly and amiable manner. The place was always just comfortably right; and always some little Indian snack was forthcoming.

After some time, I learned through conversations with each couple a little more about them. It turned out that the argumentative couple had “fallen in love” and left against their families wishes and came to the states. It always felt unsettled, tense and like things were not so good. I don’t believe they lived happily ever after.

The other couple was in an arranged marriage, put together by their respective parents at a very early age. I conversed with them several times about this and what their feelings were at the beginning of the marriage and how were things now? At first they were just timid and shy with each other and performed pretty much to cultural role expectations. But as time went on, they became deeply appreciative and affectionate of the other; until one day – voilà they were deeply in love with each other. And it was obvious, just being in their presence. They said they just simply grew to love each other over time and that it grew out respect and consideration for the other. I fully believe they lived happily ever after.

There’s a moral or two here; I’ll allow you, gentle reader, the opportunity to parse them.

For Melissa - Week 6

Only way is up;

Heart achingly difficult.

Don’t quit; making it!

Blogger ‘Lyte ;-} Week 6

Melissa Rodriguez

Full disclosure: this post will definitely be underperforming for this week. I took my NCLEX-PN test this morning in Seattle. And of course I’ve been studying pretty much non-stop since class last week. My name is Rebekah Jane Lee and I am now a Licensed Practical Nurse! And it’s a no-brainer of a tradeoff if I lose some  points on this posting. To business!

This has been gestating in my brain since I heard it on NPR’s Radio Diaries last week: http://apps.npr.org/teenage-diaries/#melissa. She's with her two boys in the picture. I suppose one could call it sort of a mini longitudinal study (best possible construction) of several teens that were given tape recorders to haul around for a year. That was sixteen years ago. The same reporter gave them recorders again this last year to see where their lives were now. They were all interesting, but Melissa Rodriguez really caught my attention vis-à-vis the materials for weeks five and six. Let me say at the beginning, she is a very devoted and loving mother and cares deeply about her children. Her greatest desire is to provide them with the love and care she never received.

Her mother gives her two years of motherhood and turns Melissa over to foster care. Consider the items of bonding, attachment and nurturing. She’s bounced through several foster homes before ending up in a group home. One thinks of families as dynamic systems and wonders what developmental mile-markers were missed in Melissa’s middle and adolescent years. She runs away at fifteen and mothers her first of two children at eighteen. In 2013 she talks with her first born Issaiah (now sixteen) and tells how much she wanted someone to love and to love her – so many things to discuss about just that statement and situation. It becomes obvious that he has developmental issues, some of which are ameliorated with time and effort. He currently tests out with an IQ of 79; and I wondered how culturally appropriate that test was for this person. His mom says he can remember how to play and move ahead with his video games, but cannot remember what he reads. More questions; and I wondered about the effectiveness/appropriateness of his special education class and the loss of those years of evenings without parental supervision and guidance.

Poor, fairly uneducated and not finding a lot in the line of work, she turns to stripping (early years); and says it was one of the most empowering things she’s done. She had money, apartment and a car; she was able to go to school (I’m assuming a two year) and finishes. And the strip clubs are behind her. She’s been working for some time now as a customer service representative for what seems like a television cable company. A kind of work she really loves. At the beginning of this last year, her hours were three to midnight. I considered what that meant in terms of nurturing her six and sixteen year old boys, who were in school every day. She does call around six PM to check in on them. On one occasion, her oldest says her youngest doesn't want to eat what was supposed to be for supper. He’s advised to just open a can of Chef Boyardee for the lad. I wondered some more about nutrition, family mealtimes and those dynamic family relationships; oh, and socialization.

She really loves her work and then says something revealing; I solve other people’s problems all day long and when I come home, I just keep on solving more problems problems. When she arrives home at midnight, the television is going full tilt and young Tyrone is asleep in the same room. She says that's what he does because he’s afraid. I wondered again with questions about identity, self-esteem and the socialization values and behaviors; both formal and informal. Melissa states that she depends on her children and that they “…lean…” on each other.  Hmm! Definitely not an authoritarian or authoritative parenting approach; permissive perhaps, at best.

Her diary ends on a somewhat more hopeful parenting note; at work she’s been moved to days, which will enable her to be home in the evening with her children. She is incredibly strong of will, desire and discipline; her teenage camp story of treading water is illustrative. Her extrapolation of that story to life is insightful. What I cannot divine, will it be enough to accomplish her goals for her children. I truly admire and respect her grit and determination; she’s certainly traveled a hard path and overcome so much. I'm not so sure I would have come as far if it was me.

Postscript: This was in the NYT this morning and has relevance re "Tough Guise". Not so sure that change is to significant. The point concerning prosecutions is quite revealing.

RETROREPORT   
Video Library Player:  The Legacy of Tailhook 
Retro Report 
Retro Report: Military sexual assault is not a new phenomenon. A second look at the Tailhook scandal in 1991 reveals what happened then. And what it all means now. 

Pretty Much - Week 5

First one must love self,

Love of others may then follow.

With hugs from the heart.

Let’s Get Real – For a Change :-} Week 5

My childhood was a classic example of absolute patriarchal authoritarianism. I give great credit to my mom (who being of the generation that a woman’s place is in the home and there to serve her husband) who did her best to love and nurture our sibling group of three.  As is often true, I being the oldest also received the more restrictive guidance and attentions. I have no recollection of my father ever hugging me or telling me he loved me. I wondered often what was wrong with me. When I was leaving for college the first time, I took a deep breath, walked over to my dad, hugged him and said I loved him. He never put his arms around me. Whatever relational hopefulness I had maintained for him, was broken on that day. Looking back, all I can add is, he did the best he could from where he’d come.

On the credit side of the ledger, he never abused any of us or our mom. We did get a couple of ‘belt – lickins’ (actually not very severe – more scary); but can honestly say we knew the consequences and deliberately chose to pursue bad decisions; and definitely reinforced the concept of consequences. He was a dentist and very successful. He was an excellent provider, but within the constraints of his depression era childhood. We never wanted for the essentials, but there were few extras. We were allowed almost no personally driven decisions and if we expressed a desire, it was often met with “what in world would you want that (or to do that) for. Besides, what would people think of our family?” It was absolute rule; pretty much lock-down.  I was a walking example of the negative consequences illustrated in our text; except I wasn't aggressive.

I could not have been more ill prepared for parenthood. And yet there I was with a family. Predictably, I set off to follow the example of my upbringing. There was one small (in the beginning) off-setting factor. Somehow I was profoundly aware of how inappropriate my upbringing had been and also had some misty concept that I might walk the same path. I tried, mostly unsuccessful, not to do so, but the patterns were pretty deeply subconscious; almost always automatic and without conscious decision monitoring. My early parenting was better than dad’s, but I would not want to invite anyone to judge by how much!  :-}

There came a sentinel revelation that was instrumental to help me self-redirect. I’d known for some time that string of words: “…love is patient, love is kind…not self-seeking…always protects…” with a few other things in there. All of a sudden it was no longer some ‘truth-thing’ out there in the universe, but was a spot light on just how/what I was doing as a parent. That internalization became the self-check of my parenting decisions: is this kind, gentle, patient, etc? I gradually became an authoritarian parent that began focusing on nurturing the biopsychosocial uniqueness of each child; assisting in their own self-discovery of who they are still becoming.

Well, it’s been a long, winding but rewarding road. Things changed slowly and grew better. Did I mention slowly? Yes, slowly. And over the years, there have been many discussions with my kids about my mistakes and attempted corrections as a parent. I am pleased (perhaps more like relief) that all are doing well, somehow successfully surviving their childhoods and my parenting. Although there were moments of doubt, I do have a great sense of satisfaction in knowing/realizing that change is possible over generations and our little part of the genealogical tree is a little healthier than before.