Unsilencing

It was a simple email exchange. My MIL is going through a work issue and Grey and his siblings have been working with her to navigate all of it. Since first learning about this issue, there's been emails exchanged between the siblings to share advice, strategy and determine who can handle which aspects.

But it was a portion of one email that caught my eye; a paragraph actually. In that paragraph, Grey shared with his siblings how taxed we've been with all the transitions, illnesses and surgeries, telling them that he was limited with what we could provide. And though that may not seem like much, this was the first time openly shared any hardships with them instead of trying to take everything on.

He would go on to do it again during a conversation with MIL. Opening up to her in a manner he likely hasn't done in years, with it being clear she was surprised. But the unsilencing has been good for him; for them too.

Like Grey, I've never been one to talk openly about my struggles. From a young age, I learned it wasn't socially acceptable to "whine and complain" about my ales as it was likely others around me had it much harder. Instead, my role was to act as a support system, helping others in need find solutions and roads forward. There's a lot of problems with this thinking, particularly the learned assumption that asking for help is a sign weakness, but another one is the burn out that comes from suffering in silence. When you're giving all the time, neglecting your own self care, it's hard not to start resenting others for their requests, be they simple or overly complex.

Loribeth's post about the Misery Filter got me thinking more about this, particularly the point most the need to educate people about suffering. Part of this education requires training and learning how to be resilient, but there's another point which involves normalizing suffering and making it much more common place then it already is.

With infertility, we're starting to see this. Whereas a few years ago, post like this one from Dear Prudence were common (and I'm still angry with Emily Yoffe for her callous response), the articles now are more sympathetic (and this podcast had me cheering for Mallory Ortberg) with people finally opening up about their journey. The big thrust behind this change is because of normalization. It's because a brave few started all of this by coming out of the infertility closet, shameless sharing their stories. And those few grew to many more, empowering many more to do the same. And though infertility and pregnancy loss are still taboo, particularly if you don't resolve by parenting, the truth is there are more much needed conversations that are happening. The unsilencing has lead to awareness.

Something has lifted in our household recently due to the embrace for openness. Things are still hard with surrounding this period (finding out our new rental is likely going to be foreclosed on in the near future hasn't helped), but by asking for help while acknowledging the hardships of others has been freeing and selecting. Those who love us and want to support us know not to jump in with assive or offer callous critiques, but instead to offer empathy and someone to talk to. But there's also something very freeing about no longer living under the shroud of silence. A validation that we actually matter too.

#MicroblogMondays: Reclaiming Halloween

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

Late last night as I listened to howling wind, I sat crouched over a bowl picking out and cleaning pumpkin seeds to roast. Earlier in the day, the Beats sat at the kitchen table with me, helping me scoop out their pumpkins and excitedly shouting out directions for cutting out their jack-o-lanterns. As I sat cutting out triangles and circles, they chattered on about their costumes and all the festivities from the weekend. 

There are many things I allowed infertility to rob me of. Connections with others, special events and even places I had loved to frequent. The holidays were at the top of the list, being there is such a focus on children and family-centered events. So for years, I isolated myself during this period, steeling myself to do the bare minimum in order to protect my heart.

But the downside was that I lost a lot along the way. Ski trips, hiking adventures and even going to a favorite local pub. I allowed the intrusive relatives, the baby bumps and the fear of strollers to dictate where I could go. And because of it, I missed out on the things that brought me joy. 

It was right before my final round of IVF that I declared I had had enough. So I started reclaiming the holidays in my own way, starting with Halloween. I made a point of carving pumpkins and roasting pumpkin seeds while enjoying a special bottle of beer because, damnit, it was something I enjoyed. Thanksgiving would be next, with a tradition of pumpkin pies and roasted chicken. And finally would come the Winter Holidays, being determined to find a way to bring in light despite the sadness in my heart.

Admittedly, it's been easier to celebrate since the arrival of the Beats. The things that once stopped me no longer hold the same power (though I am still terrified of strollers). But a part of that also comes with having reclaimed Halloween all those years ago. Being determined to find a way to celebrate the life I already had with my family of two. 

An epidemic

Last night I found myself staring at a virtual map detailing opioid overdoses across the country. On the heels of a press conference where a state of emergency has been declared, most people I find myself surrounded by daily seemed surprised about the degree of this crisis.

This news is on the heels of emerging reports about the homelessness epidemic in this country.

And yet, once again, our leaders are clearly failing to connect the dots about how the decisions to protect a privileged few are resulting in all of this. That actions and willful deafness to the plights of those outside their doorsteps is stressing the majority to the point of chronic life pain,  leading to the early death in otherwise physically healthy individuals.

We're well overdue for action and a solution to this issue, though I fear it’s going to get far worse before then.

Many have been talking recently about infertility being a source of life pain (myself included). But what isn't talked about as much is that having walked this path this community is in a unique position to help others navigate it. That there's wisdom so many gain from having walked this path, finding ways to survive while living on the fringes.

As I go on, it's becoming clear that those who have no idea what life pain is have any clue how to address it. Meaning that as much as they believed they are entitled to steer this ship, the best course of action involves dropping them off at the closest port. Ignoring the temper tantrums that will surely come. Following that enforced grounded will come the need to new navigators. Those who know how to sit with others as they process their pain, offering support and even a simple “I’m sorry” so that healing can begin. And things can be rebuilt.

Because we cannot survive this epidemic much longer.

Grumpy

So yesterday. The short of it is that the thought-experiment activity went well. But other parts of lecture, specifically focusing on the assigned reading, belly-flopped. A plan for picking up the pieces and tackling again is in motion. As is reassessing how to move forward.

But given the disappointment, combined with frustration about job applications, networking (Cristy got schooled yesterday), program design and the ongoing crappy weather, I'm in a grumpy state.

One of the things that is hard at the moment is juggling being motivated and a self-starter with constant rejection or seeing cases where the same rules don't apply. I learned a couple of days ago that my replacement is someone who doesn't have the advertised requirements, leaving me feeling like I was doomed in the position from day 1. In addition, I found two messages in my inbox this morning that indicated I wasn't being considered for those positions. Add in having the furnace at our rental break not once, but twice due to lack of maintenance and it being very clear our landlord really isn't interested in doing more than the bare minimum for correcting the problem or dealing with the leaky oil fuel tank and it's hard not to feel like throwing in the towel.

So today is about allowing myself to feel grumpy for exact 20 more minutes. Then to get back in there with job applications, preparing for Friday discussion, solidifying curriculum and bugging my network.

Because one lesson infertility taught me is that the only one who is going to find the road forward in all this craziness is me. And it doesn't matter if those outside looking in approve of if or not.

Over the rainbow

I can't remember how old I was when I first saw "The Wizard of Oz," but like so many I grew up loving the song "Somewhere over the Rainbow." It's importance changed when I moved to my version of the Emerald City and changed once again when Grey and I left.

There's a prelude to this song that most aren't familiar with. Finding these lyrics takes a bit of digging, but they are ones I first heard as a child and immediately became attracted to due to the haunting beginning.

"When all the world is a hopeless jumble
And the raindrops tumble all around
Heaven opens a magic lane

When all the clouds darken up the skyway
There's a rainbow highway to be found
Leading from your windowpane

To a place behind the sun
Just a step beyond the rain"

Yesterday I found these lyrics again, in the form of a read-along book I had checked out for the Beats. As they listened to Judy Collins singing this prelude, I found myself completely overcome with emotion.

I miss my Emerald City. All that it was and all that came during my time there. I struggle with knowing that it no longer exists, instead is a shadow of what it use to be. But looking at the Beats and at Grey, I know we carry that version in our hearts. That one day we'll find our version again, though it's likely we'll have to help build it.

Hence the hope in these lyrics. That there can be light and warmth after the bitter storm. That there are rainbows and magic lanes to follow to find that place.

Intermission

Yesterday went okay. I managed to accomplish my goal of getting the students talking, seeming to perk their willingness to share their thoughts and insights. Something that has been sorely lacking for these past few weeks.

Despite this, though, I still had one student fall asleep. There were others who looked at me with skeptical eyes. Hence I wasn't surprised about the email from the department chair, informing the course head (and the rest of us) that the graduate students are complaining. And despite the idea of asking for feedback, the truth of the matter is the issue stems from something a lot more fundamental and primal. That something drastic needs to be done to shock them out of their current state and help them reset.

And it needs to happen tomorrow.

The idea came while I was looking over lecture slides. Feeling once again that this relationship was far too one-sided, encouraging them to sit back and absorb (which we know doesn't work), I found myself staring at the glass of hopped apple cider in front of me. Only a few moments before I had been asking the barista what "hopped apple cider" was, to which the response was "you have to experience it to answer that question." Not a bad sales pitch, huh?

Which is when it dawned on me that these students didn't have ownership because they weren't experiencing all that comes with problem solving. To them, the answers were already a given. And they need to be reminded that this is rarely the case (and if it is, then they really haven't earned their PhD).

So tomorrow, as we dive into RNA interference and CRISPR-Cas9, we'll pause and do a modified flavor tripping experience with white vinegar.  I'm both excited and terrified as there's really only two possibilities for the outcome of this experiment.

Wish me luck.

#MicroblogMondays: Flip

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

It started innocently enough. Sitting in a coffee shop with hopes of finalizing my lecture tomorrow, I was quickly becoming distracted by a young girl who was bouncing on the bench next to me. Looking up, the mother quickly caught my eye while she bounced a newborn on her knee, rolling her eyes and mouthing "sorry."

"Don't worry about it," I responded with a smile, thinking that would be the end of the conversation.

"It's just so hard sometimes!" she exclaimed.

"I know," I absentmindedly responded while turning my attention back to my computer screen. "My twins are at home with a sitter."

"Twins!" she shouted, for the whole shop to hear. "Why, that must be SOOO nice! Every aspect of parenting done at once. So much easier than doing this one at a time!"

I think you could have heard a pin drop in the moments that followed as all eyes quickly became glued on me. Everyone in the shop seemingly waiting for a response, with the energy and looks suggesting anticipation for a fight.

*****************
One of the things that is guaranteed to put me in a fighting mood is the comparisons from others about how difficult their lives are. I struggle with others jumping in, cutting people off with their attempts to share and empathize by exclaiming there's no possible way as this situation is extraordinary. With infertility and parenting, the situation is much more tangled as there's this assumption that those who are not parenting have zero frame of reference. From sleep deprivation to financial issue to simply juggling the day-to-day of a new reality surrounding a little one, the thought process is that of exclusion.

Recently, though, my outlook on the Pain Olympics has shifted. Part of it comes from having a family building story that can easily cause the audience to fall silent fairly quickly, but the other has been me learning to stretch and search for the root cause of this complaining main due to my own fumbles and belly-flops I've inflicted on others. Being socially awkward, I'm frequently an offender especially in the arena of answering the question "so what do you do?" And as those awkward pauses have come, usually with me kicking myself immediately afterwards, I've thought about the snarky remarks or the stone-cold silence and how I've struggled being on the receiving end.

There's another element, though. Being an educator, the core of my job is identifying misconceptions and helping guide people to new conclusions. As I walked home from the coffee shop, I thought more and more about a compulsive need most of us have to top one another's venting episodes. That sometimes it can be about an oddly failed attempt at commiseration. While other times it's actually a sign of something terribly wrong; that either this person is feeling isolated or overwhelmed or abused or feeling trapped. Often they are hurting, sometimes in ways that will even surprise them. Geared up for a fight as that is really their only form of being able to connect with humanity.

And if you look at the situation that way, flipping the view from someone who is unnecessarily venting due to privilege to someone who is broken on some level, all the sudden addressing the problem at hand becomes a lot different.
******************

I honestly don't know why I responded the way I did. Maybe it had to do with it being a warm, sunny day or me fighting fatigue from staring at a computer screen for way too long. But following the comment, I looked right at this women with small children and I saw someone who was overwhelmed and tired. Quietly packing up my things, I pulled out a set of crayons and some scratch paper that I always keep on me in case the Beats are getting out of hand. Immediately the bouncing young girl's eyes lit up and she swiftly settled into coloring.

"How old are your kids?" I asked, hoping to initiate a conversation as I observed another older woman slide in next to the young girl to encourage her with her drawings. And almost as if the flood gates were opened, the whole shop spent the next 10 mins with this woman listening as she told life story, including her frustrations with being a single mother and finding balance in life. Discovering very quickly that this was someone who was actually pretty lonely in life and struggling to find connection.

And though the interaction wasn't a long one and the transition wasn't completely smooth, the outcome was one where the atmosphere in the coffee shop changed with someone offering to buy this woman another cup of coffee, most others smiling at the little girl as she proudly showed off her drawings and even others beginning to open up about their struggles with loss and failed life goals.

All of it stemming from seeing the situation as it actually was, which wasn't about someone wanting to fight, but about trying awkwardly to connect.