Thursday, November 22, 2012
A teacher's thanksgiving prayer
While some people are all mushy and warm and fuzzy and all "save the world" and "let's enjoy our time off" and "is it black friday yet?" today, I remain a snarky and sleep-deprived schoolteacher. With that in mind, let us pray,
Dear God,
Thank you for everything. There, that sums it up neatly. You are awesome and wonderful and loving and kind every day and I hope that I remember to tell you because...well...I work with teenagers and I'm going to need you...every hour! So, thanks for everything.
Now, this is the big request of the day. Ready? Okay. I would really appreciate it if you would help people to stop referring to these four days as a break or a vacation. Don't these people know that we saved all of our grading from the past three days for this weekend? Like, duh! Don't they know that we needed all of our energy for the kids who NEVER miss a day of school no matter how hard we pray (so, yeah, we will need to discuss that later too)? Don't they know that in order to be the change we want to see, we have to plan lessons, grade papers, write curriculum maps, read the literature, collect, report, and analyze the data plus wash the dishes and cook half of the meal...if not the entire meal and plan activities for our own children who are actually off and have no homework over the..."break"? Lord, today, I'm not praying about raising test scores or increasing retention and graduation rates. Today, I just pray that as you shut the lion's mouth for Daniel that you would shut a few mouths for me too. (You know I am a direct descendant of Peter and I'm prone to cutting people and if I have to spend half of my time "off" on the altar asking for forgiveness, I won't get my schoolwork done. Can you help a sister out? Pleeeeeease?) Okay, I think that's all for now. I know, it's a lot to ask and I know you're probably teaching me grace or patience or something useful but you told me to make my requests known...so this is my request for today. Thank you so much!
Love,
Carla
PS - Please grant me an extra helping of grace as I continue to refer to this day as the celebration of that time that the colonizing imperialists stole from the people of color who were indigenous to this land long before it was "discovered" and who warmed themselves against the ravages of fire water with small-poxed blankets. Okay, thanks again!
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Commitment
Commitment
On Sunday, I watched a TD Jakes sermon called Commitment and it was, as the churchy people say, right on time. I have committed to not only writing but also publishing a piece of writing every day for the month of November and it has become a habit that I enjoy and look forward to every morning. Fortunately, I really don't have time to write like I want to, so the act of carving out time is also an exercise in commitment. I will do this every day whether the circumstances are conducive or not. It is growing me and that's one of the things I look for in a relationship. Can this relationship grow me...as in nurture me and not just in the proverbial "whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger" kind of way?? (Healthy living, exercise, quiet time and love don't kill you and can make you stronger too! Don't trip, all growth doesn't come from pain although some might.) I am committed to my craft and will revisit my goals as December approaches. I wonder what other people are committed to these days. It's really quite awesome to see the fruits of something as small as this. If you're thinking about your own commitments, let me tell you, starting is the hardest part. (Go on, what are you waiting for? Do it! Do it! You're not alone! Look at the number of posts I have for the month of November! One post a day and one day at a time!)
I claimed November as my "turning point" month and this weekend is my first test...or maybe it's a lab..I'm not sure. I committed to perform at an open mic event and though I feel a slight cold and sore throat coming on *cough, cough* I have made the commitment and now the only obstacle is fear. Writing on my iPad and touching the screen where I see the ominous word "publish" is very different from having to open my mouth and release the words that are in my mind and heart. Ah, but that's the best part. Once I put on my game face and forget that I am in front of other people...I just might be okay. The point is that whether I pass or fail, failure to act is the ultimate betrayal of my commitment...so I guess I should act in fidelity...and plan my outfit!
shalom and love and courage!
On Sunday, I watched a TD Jakes sermon called Commitment and it was, as the churchy people say, right on time. I have committed to not only writing but also publishing a piece of writing every day for the month of November and it has become a habit that I enjoy and look forward to every morning. Fortunately, I really don't have time to write like I want to, so the act of carving out time is also an exercise in commitment. I will do this every day whether the circumstances are conducive or not. It is growing me and that's one of the things I look for in a relationship. Can this relationship grow me...as in nurture me and not just in the proverbial "whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger" kind of way?? (Healthy living, exercise, quiet time and love don't kill you and can make you stronger too! Don't trip, all growth doesn't come from pain although some might.) I am committed to my craft and will revisit my goals as December approaches. I wonder what other people are committed to these days. It's really quite awesome to see the fruits of something as small as this. If you're thinking about your own commitments, let me tell you, starting is the hardest part. (Go on, what are you waiting for? Do it! Do it! You're not alone! Look at the number of posts I have for the month of November! One post a day and one day at a time!)
I claimed November as my "turning point" month and this weekend is my first test...or maybe it's a lab..I'm not sure. I committed to perform at an open mic event and though I feel a slight cold and sore throat coming on *cough, cough* I have made the commitment and now the only obstacle is fear. Writing on my iPad and touching the screen where I see the ominous word "publish" is very different from having to open my mouth and release the words that are in my mind and heart. Ah, but that's the best part. Once I put on my game face and forget that I am in front of other people...I just might be okay. The point is that whether I pass or fail, failure to act is the ultimate betrayal of my commitment...so I guess I should act in fidelity...and plan my outfit!
shalom and love and courage!
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
I know you meant well...however...
Been There...
Two years ago, I suffered from a debilitating depression. When I say debilitating, I mean barely functioning, can't get out of bed, crying incessantly, can't eat, inconsolable (not that anyone could get close anyway because I was barricaded in my bedroom), wanting to kill myself kind of depression. Now, I know that's hard for some people to read and comprehend but as the holidays approach, I feel compelled to talk about it again - not for my own cleansing and closure (I'm still here, so I'm good) but for the sake of others who have no words to express what they are feeling and cannot make others understand. It's hard enough being depressed but then to have to explain it to others who just don't get it...and to be loving and generous when you have NOTHING is nearly impossible. So, the following is an excerpt from a message that I sent to a loved one who made a well-meaning comment on social media after attending the funeral of a person who committed suicide:
This is a reaction to a Facebook post that has my hands shaking my heart pounding and my head throbbing as I drive down Route 73 on this otherwise beautiful sunny day.
Beloved, it makes me angry when people think that being suicidal can be remedied by talking to "everyone" or "someone". If the listeners were actually available to HEAR us when we're talking about what's going on and what is leading us to consider suicide in the first place, then perhaps that suggestion might work. It is utterly offensive to me that people think that simply finding 'someone' to talk to will solve the problem. I had plenty of people to talk to including ones I paid to talk to but that didn't solve the 'problem'. I even talked to Jesus but that didn't easily and readily solve the 'problem' either.
The darkness surrounding suicidal thoughts is thick, consuming, frightening and overbearing and most "friends" can't handle going there with you for fear that it might leak off of us and consume them too.
I realize that people do mean well however, understanding mental illness goes far beyond telling people who were sick to talk to people who are well.
We don't want to talk to you people! Do you know why? Because you treat us like we are children with a scraped knee instead of like the triage cases we are at that point. Hello! I don't have a scraped knee. I have a severed limb! And bless your hearts, you try your uninformed best with your "get over it" or "cheer up" (and my personal favorite - "I was depressed last week too" - No, YOU had a bad day! I have an illness!! But we can't say those things because they're considered inappropriate.) and after hearing that repeatedly (from loved ones who are closest to us or who claim to know us best) we simply decide to stop talking to people who say stupid shit. (excuse me, I mean well-meaning but useless words). Do you seriously think we haven't tried talking to people? Do you seriously think we just sat here in silence picking at a wound until the gangrene took over and we had no other choice but to cut the limb off? Is that REALLY what you think? I just don't understand why it is so difficult for people who live normal lives to make room for the possibility that there is another way of life out here in the age of the Google search and smart-phones.
I don't mean to sound ungrateful or negative - I just want you to understand what it feels like in the day to day existence in the kind depression that leads to suicide. I have to advocate for those who have no voice in the conversation but are expected to "talk to someone".
Those who have never been there think we are selfish. You've got to have a sense of self to be selfish. For some, by the time we get to that place, it looks like an act of pure ego, but it's really quite the opposite. Hubris has become homeless at that point.
I'm one of the blessed ones because I survived my own suicidal thoughts and attempts. I made it through my own indescribable darkness.
I did not survive because I had someone to talk to per se. Talking to a professional and to loved ones is but one part of a larger treatment for a whole body illness.
I survived because sisters and friends came and put their hands on me and heard me and worked hard enough to know me and love me when I was extremely difficult to love and extremely resistant to it as well. They pushed their way into my foxhole and dragged me out and did not let me go until I remembered myself. (Remember that scene from "The Women of Brewster Place" (the movie) when Mattie pulls Ceil out of the bed and bathes her, braids her hair, puts pajamas on her, and force feeds her...yeah, it was like that.)
I survived because I was forced to get medical attention because this thing was bigger than 'talk' and I was out of words anyway. I survived because I had people holding me accountable for taking the prescribed medication until such time that I did not have to use it anymore.
I survived because there is a gift of writing that allows me to say to people do not discount those who are truly clinically depressed and using that gift reminds me of the dragon that waits to be slain every day - whether in my life or in the life of others.
I will not allow you to use your widely respected influence on social media to simply say, "If you are considering suicide find someone to talk to."
It sounds harsh but it's like when Malcolm X told the white girl there was nothing she could do for the movement. It's bigger than your well meaning heart’s desire to "help". Helping is usually more work than people imagine when they "sign up" for the committee. Life saving is long hard work and you have to be built for it. It ain't for everyone. And believe it or not, we won't hold it against you if you can't sign up for the tour of duty. But please stop telling us to talk to someone...decide whether you can be that someone and go from there. I've written before that loving someone who is depressed and/or suicidal is like hugging a porcupine. We're most hurtful towards others when we feel like we are in danger...which is every moment of every day.
So, thank you, love, for caring enough to say something. Now, I pray that as you speak, you will speak as an informed advocate and not just as a well-meaning but uninformed soul.
For those who are voiceless, I pray. For those in the darkness, I'm shining a light. For those who crossed over...rest in peace. Shalom...
Two years ago, I suffered from a debilitating depression. When I say debilitating, I mean barely functioning, can't get out of bed, crying incessantly, can't eat, inconsolable (not that anyone could get close anyway because I was barricaded in my bedroom), wanting to kill myself kind of depression. Now, I know that's hard for some people to read and comprehend but as the holidays approach, I feel compelled to talk about it again - not for my own cleansing and closure (I'm still here, so I'm good) but for the sake of others who have no words to express what they are feeling and cannot make others understand. It's hard enough being depressed but then to have to explain it to others who just don't get it...and to be loving and generous when you have NOTHING is nearly impossible. So, the following is an excerpt from a message that I sent to a loved one who made a well-meaning comment on social media after attending the funeral of a person who committed suicide:
This is a reaction to a Facebook post that has my hands shaking my heart pounding and my head throbbing as I drive down Route 73 on this otherwise beautiful sunny day.
Beloved, it makes me angry when people think that being suicidal can be remedied by talking to "everyone" or "someone". If the listeners were actually available to HEAR us when we're talking about what's going on and what is leading us to consider suicide in the first place, then perhaps that suggestion might work. It is utterly offensive to me that people think that simply finding 'someone' to talk to will solve the problem. I had plenty of people to talk to including ones I paid to talk to but that didn't solve the 'problem'. I even talked to Jesus but that didn't easily and readily solve the 'problem' either.
The darkness surrounding suicidal thoughts is thick, consuming, frightening and overbearing and most "friends" can't handle going there with you for fear that it might leak off of us and consume them too.
I realize that people do mean well however, understanding mental illness goes far beyond telling people who were sick to talk to people who are well.
We don't want to talk to you people! Do you know why? Because you treat us like we are children with a scraped knee instead of like the triage cases we are at that point. Hello! I don't have a scraped knee. I have a severed limb! And bless your hearts, you try your uninformed best with your "get over it" or "cheer up" (and my personal favorite - "I was depressed last week too" - No, YOU had a bad day! I have an illness!! But we can't say those things because they're considered inappropriate.) and after hearing that repeatedly (from loved ones who are closest to us or who claim to know us best) we simply decide to stop talking to people who say stupid shit. (excuse me, I mean well-meaning but useless words). Do you seriously think we haven't tried talking to people? Do you seriously think we just sat here in silence picking at a wound until the gangrene took over and we had no other choice but to cut the limb off? Is that REALLY what you think? I just don't understand why it is so difficult for people who live normal lives to make room for the possibility that there is another way of life out here in the age of the Google search and smart-phones.
I don't mean to sound ungrateful or negative - I just want you to understand what it feels like in the day to day existence in the kind depression that leads to suicide. I have to advocate for those who have no voice in the conversation but are expected to "talk to someone".
Those who have never been there think we are selfish. You've got to have a sense of self to be selfish. For some, by the time we get to that place, it looks like an act of pure ego, but it's really quite the opposite. Hubris has become homeless at that point.
I'm one of the blessed ones because I survived my own suicidal thoughts and attempts. I made it through my own indescribable darkness.
I did not survive because I had someone to talk to per se. Talking to a professional and to loved ones is but one part of a larger treatment for a whole body illness.
I survived because sisters and friends came and put their hands on me and heard me and worked hard enough to know me and love me when I was extremely difficult to love and extremely resistant to it as well. They pushed their way into my foxhole and dragged me out and did not let me go until I remembered myself. (Remember that scene from "The Women of Brewster Place" (the movie) when Mattie pulls Ceil out of the bed and bathes her, braids her hair, puts pajamas on her, and force feeds her...yeah, it was like that.)
I survived because I was forced to get medical attention because this thing was bigger than 'talk' and I was out of words anyway. I survived because I had people holding me accountable for taking the prescribed medication until such time that I did not have to use it anymore.
I survived because there is a gift of writing that allows me to say to people do not discount those who are truly clinically depressed and using that gift reminds me of the dragon that waits to be slain every day - whether in my life or in the life of others.
I will not allow you to use your widely respected influence on social media to simply say, "If you are considering suicide find someone to talk to."
It sounds harsh but it's like when Malcolm X told the white girl there was nothing she could do for the movement. It's bigger than your well meaning heart’s desire to "help". Helping is usually more work than people imagine when they "sign up" for the committee. Life saving is long hard work and you have to be built for it. It ain't for everyone. And believe it or not, we won't hold it against you if you can't sign up for the tour of duty. But please stop telling us to talk to someone...decide whether you can be that someone and go from there. I've written before that loving someone who is depressed and/or suicidal is like hugging a porcupine. We're most hurtful towards others when we feel like we are in danger...which is every moment of every day.
So, thank you, love, for caring enough to say something. Now, I pray that as you speak, you will speak as an informed advocate and not just as a well-meaning but uninformed soul.
For those who are voiceless, I pray. For those in the darkness, I'm shining a light. For those who crossed over...rest in peace. Shalom...
Monday, November 19, 2012
Game changer
I'm on the train and looking around at the faces. One man is slack-jawed sleeping. One I can't see but I can smell...tussin, alcohol, cologne? There's the guy whose girth takes up several seats and the thin one in athletic attire who peeps a seat and sits quickly. There's the one whose face is stony. I spy a sleeping mailman with fleshy face and bulbous nose. Cuteish guy with bike and cool sneakers, wet hair and a blue sweatband keeping salty perspiration out of his eyes. The woman with super straight shiny weave tracks mixed in with her own. Face serious, not stressed. Headphones in. Dark lipstick and polish. And then there's the one woman with her hair pulled up in a bun on what must be the top of her head from her perspective. Jeans, flats, hoodie, striped knit shirt and not distinctive at all except for one quality. She has a slight smile on her face at 6:15 am.
I'm reminded of the way that we notice what we see. I see a lot of faces, but her smile is to remind me that I might also shift someone's day with the same gesture. There may only be one smile for every ten faces but that one is the one I'm looking for today. One in ten is a game changer.
I'm reminded of the way that we notice what we see. I see a lot of faces, but her smile is to remind me that I might also shift someone's day with the same gesture. There may only be one smile for every ten faces but that one is the one I'm looking for today. One in ten is a game changer.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Saturday prayer for November 17
Dear God,
Today I apologize. I apologize for outsourcing your work to idols. I apologize for both idol worship and idle worship. I put my faith in things that can never satisfy. I have left offerings on altars that could never receive them in the first place. And so, these offerings, genuine, pure, and true could only rot there...stinking...festering...feeding flies and breeding pestilence. I apologize. I apologize for idle worship that just gets all revved up but never really goes anywhere. Praying to ask for a filling and indwelling but then operating on old fumes and bad fuel. I'm pretty hard on the Israelites when I read their stories but then when I make my life a parallel text...I'm suddenly compassionate and a lot less judgmental. I apologize. I apologize for the expectation that someone else can do what you have done for me for so long. I apologize for knowing better and not doing better. Today, I apologize. I'm not asking for a miraculous healing...I'll just take pain medication. I'm not asking for extra hours in the day...I'll be a good steward of the 24 I have (every day). I'm not asking for a king to share my queen sized bed...I'll re-read 1 and 2 Kings and remember what happens when you ask for a king just because everyone else has one. (hey, that's kind of funny, isn't it?) I'm only asking you to forgive my arrogance, my forgetfulness, my selfishness and my everythingelsethatisnotlikeyou-ness. Today, I apologize...and repent.
Thank you,
Love,
Carla
Today I apologize. I apologize for outsourcing your work to idols. I apologize for both idol worship and idle worship. I put my faith in things that can never satisfy. I have left offerings on altars that could never receive them in the first place. And so, these offerings, genuine, pure, and true could only rot there...stinking...festering...feeding flies and breeding pestilence. I apologize. I apologize for idle worship that just gets all revved up but never really goes anywhere. Praying to ask for a filling and indwelling but then operating on old fumes and bad fuel. I'm pretty hard on the Israelites when I read their stories but then when I make my life a parallel text...I'm suddenly compassionate and a lot less judgmental. I apologize. I apologize for the expectation that someone else can do what you have done for me for so long. I apologize for knowing better and not doing better. Today, I apologize. I'm not asking for a miraculous healing...I'll just take pain medication. I'm not asking for extra hours in the day...I'll be a good steward of the 24 I have (every day). I'm not asking for a king to share my queen sized bed...I'll re-read 1 and 2 Kings and remember what happens when you ask for a king just because everyone else has one. (hey, that's kind of funny, isn't it?) I'm only asking you to forgive my arrogance, my forgetfulness, my selfishness and my everythingelsethatisnotlikeyou-ness. Today, I apologize...and repent.
Thank you,
Love,
Carla
Friday, November 16, 2012
Dear Jaha - letter to my baby-play-cousin
Dear Jaha,
You wrote that although it's called a free-write, nothing is ever free. That hit me right in that part of the chest where the muscles clench and it feels like what I imagine a heart attack feels like...for an elephant. I thought of my budget, my time, my talents, and my treasure and my heart tightened again. Writing is costing me more than I ever imagined. Today, it feels like the biggest expense has been my protective sheath. I feel so naked out here on this page and it's public, so today I feel like I would imagine I'd feel if an ex boyfriend posted private photos on the internet. But it's worse because I'm the one posting what I hope are tasteful nudes and not just crass personal porn. I want to write poetry and post my work but I'm not sure that I want to share that much of myself with the world when I've not found one human being to share myself with who can protect me from what everyone else might think or say as they ogle my words, feelings, emotions and soul. Some would say, "Get over yourself. It ain't that deep." (Those are the ones I suspect want to do this but are too afraid to do it and so they throw shade at the ones courageous enough to do it.) Today, I am just in that space of wanting to go deeper as I maintain the practice but I swear, I am shivering out here in the icy cold cyberspace where my words and work are on display for all to see.
Sigh...but that's the whole reason we do it, right? Somewhere, there is a woman who needs these words to express exactly how she is feeling. Somewhere, there is a woman who will stumble upon these words and exhale because she realizes that someone else feels the same way and put those feelings into the universe for the purpose of pairing up with hers. We give expression to what others are feeling because all of life is meant to be a shared experience...I guess. That's what community is all about, huh? You know what? I feel warmer all of a sudden. At my age, it could just be a hot flash, but I think your warm spirit just reached across the continent to bring mine a bit of warmth and peace. You are my baby-play-cousin on my Valerie's side and I am so grateful for you today. Thanks for making room for me and for handing me the blanket of courage that will allow me to go back into my room and write like there's no tomorrow...because it's a gift and a calling and a love offering.
Thank you, sis!
I love you!
Carla
Shalom
You wrote that although it's called a free-write, nothing is ever free. That hit me right in that part of the chest where the muscles clench and it feels like what I imagine a heart attack feels like...for an elephant. I thought of my budget, my time, my talents, and my treasure and my heart tightened again. Writing is costing me more than I ever imagined. Today, it feels like the biggest expense has been my protective sheath. I feel so naked out here on this page and it's public, so today I feel like I would imagine I'd feel if an ex boyfriend posted private photos on the internet. But it's worse because I'm the one posting what I hope are tasteful nudes and not just crass personal porn. I want to write poetry and post my work but I'm not sure that I want to share that much of myself with the world when I've not found one human being to share myself with who can protect me from what everyone else might think or say as they ogle my words, feelings, emotions and soul. Some would say, "Get over yourself. It ain't that deep." (Those are the ones I suspect want to do this but are too afraid to do it and so they throw shade at the ones courageous enough to do it.) Today, I am just in that space of wanting to go deeper as I maintain the practice but I swear, I am shivering out here in the icy cold cyberspace where my words and work are on display for all to see.
Sigh...but that's the whole reason we do it, right? Somewhere, there is a woman who needs these words to express exactly how she is feeling. Somewhere, there is a woman who will stumble upon these words and exhale because she realizes that someone else feels the same way and put those feelings into the universe for the purpose of pairing up with hers. We give expression to what others are feeling because all of life is meant to be a shared experience...I guess. That's what community is all about, huh? You know what? I feel warmer all of a sudden. At my age, it could just be a hot flash, but I think your warm spirit just reached across the continent to bring mine a bit of warmth and peace. You are my baby-play-cousin on my Valerie's side and I am so grateful for you today. Thanks for making room for me and for handing me the blanket of courage that will allow me to go back into my room and write like there's no tomorrow...because it's a gift and a calling and a love offering.
Thank you, sis!
I love you!
Carla
Shalom
Thursday, November 15, 2012
You Got Me
Just a work in progress...
You Got Me
You got me
Walking through New York Penn Station
hoping to accidently-on-purpose
bump into you
You got me
Listening for every syllable
unable to go on living like I used to
because you move me
You got me
Wondering if you had designs on me
when you rolled my name in your mouth
like smooth Kentucky bourbon. Neat.
You got me
Hoping that my smile haunts you
in the coldest and darkest night
when you can't sleep
You got me
Wanting to be recreated by
the movement of your fingers and
the sounds from your throat.
You got me
Wishing I had been there to hold your hand
and hydrate you back to life
that time when you did too much.
You got me
Waiting for the litany
called Beautiful Carla
because I believe it when you say it.
You got me
Wanting to co-create life with words.
You got me
Looking over my shoulder
hoping to see your smile
just one more time.
Yeah,
You got me.
You Got Me
You got me
Walking through New York Penn Station
hoping to accidently-on-purpose
bump into you
You got me
Listening for every syllable
unable to go on living like I used to
because you move me
You got me
Wondering if you had designs on me
when you rolled my name in your mouth
like smooth Kentucky bourbon. Neat.
You got me
Hoping that my smile haunts you
in the coldest and darkest night
when you can't sleep
You got me
Wanting to be recreated by
the movement of your fingers and
the sounds from your throat.
You got me
Wishing I had been there to hold your hand
and hydrate you back to life
that time when you did too much.
You got me
Waiting for the litany
called Beautiful Carla
because I believe it when you say it.
You got me
Wanting to co-create life with words.
You got me
Looking over my shoulder
hoping to see your smile
just one more time.
Yeah,
You got me.
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