Disclaimer: I am not a psychiatrist or psychologist, nor do I play one on TV or anywhere else, for that matter. These writings are my opinions, please take them at face value.

     Anywhere you look there is anger. Lots and lots of anger. I, like so many others, keep asking why is this happening. Why is it happening with such frequency. I won’t begin to take on gun control or the lack thereof. Nor will I take on the woeful gap between caring for persons with mental illness and not speaking about it or hiding from it.

     I watched CBS Sunday Morning and one of the stories centered around Chuck Lorre, a television writer/producer. He has several successful shows on during prime viewing hours. He made a comment that caused me to take note. I can’t remember the context for this response but he said (paraphrasing here), “many times my angry responses or reactions come out of fear. My own fears about things.” It struck me smack in the middle of my forehead. I thought maybe that’s where all this anger is coming from, fear.

     Fear of things changing, fear of people changing, fear of a technology that changes almost daily. I think it may come from believing things were better “in the old days” and finding it hard to accept how different things seem to be. I don’t believe it’s so much about being better as it was less complicated and easier to understand. Gender roles were pretty traditional-men supported the family, women kept the home humming and were responsible for child rearing. Simpler. (Please note I said simpler, not better.) Rightfully so, today women are challenging men for prestigious positions. Many women are starting and building their own businesses. Is it any wonder men have fear surrounding their future in business and other fields of endeavor?

     How about the belief one’s worth is measured by the accumulation of money and what accumulated wealth buys; larger houses, more expensive cars, extravagant vacations. Status symbols. Those outward signs that tell those around you of your absolute success. Isn’t it sad success is equated with wealth and not whether one is a kind person, generous with those who need help. Thoughtful in their communications and good caretakers of the world instead of the fear you won’t be thought of as successful because you don’t live in the appropriate neighborhood or drive the right automobile.

      We have fears about sending our children to school and fear they won’t get into a good college. Fear we won’t be able to afford college. Fear of teachers and principals. Fear we will get passed over for a promotion. Fear we will never get a job, fear we won’t get the right job or that our paycheck won’t last until the next payday. We fear people in authority; your bosses or supervisors. Fear of persons in authoritative positions like the police. The fear we’ll be late to work or miss something important. Fear of people in your neighborhood or that you encounter in your everyday life.

    Phobias are a type of anxiety disorder that cause an individual to experience extreme, irrational fear about a situation, living creature, place, or object. Many people have phobias, mine is claustrophobia or fear of closed places. I’m not thrilled with heights either. But understand, the fears I’m talking about are the ordinary, everyday kind. Fears that if we were to talk about them with a friend, would take away their power over us and help us to feel less alone. 

     We all have what may, on the surface, seem to be unfounded fears. No fear is crazy nor should anyone ridicule someone for those fears. While fear lives in your head, it is difficult to think rationally about it, let alone overcome it. The more fears you have the more depressed you become. The more depressed, the easier to figuratively (or actually) disengage and become angry with everything and everyone. Anger grows. Civility, all but forgotten; blame becomes unrestrained. It’s terrible when someone who wouldn’t ordinarily act on their irrational fears, allows those fears to take over in a violent way with action against innocents.

     I’m experiencing fear like I never have before. The world feels like a very foreign place to me. I thought it was just getting older but it isn’t. Violence seems to be everywhere. What I used to count on for security doesn’t feel very safe anymore. I’ve found myself getting irrationally angry over meaningless or trivial issues. I’m lucky, I have a wonderful husband to talk to who always helps me put things in perspective. I’m fearful but know I’m not alone. None of us should have to live with fears, rational or irrational ones. We need to choose what and who we believe in carefully, thoughtfully. It serves no one to be ill-informed. We spend hours researching makes and models when we purchase a new car. We shop for months when we buy a new house, researching the best interest rate, the neighborhood and school system. Why not apply the same effort to understanding what we fear. The more informed we are, the more information we accumulate, we may come to the realization that some of our  fears are not worth the time and energy we put into them.

 

     

     When I was a child, halloween was so different! And I’m gonna tell you why! (Now I’m going to wait for the groaning and eye-rolling to subside. Remember when your parents and grandparents made statement like that when you were younger? I know you groaned, even if only on the inside.) I recall once telling my father I was bored. I was about sixteen and wanted to use the car. He then told me “when he was My age, he and his friends would go down to the river and skip rocks”. I’m not sure what I was supposed to glean from that statement other than I couldn’t have the car and to find someone to take me to the river to skip rocks. Whatever, I’m sure I rolled my eyes… in my bedroom… where he couldn’t see me.

     I didn’t go trick or treating until I was in kindergarten, so 5. My parents had one of my sisters take me around the neighborhood, probably twenty two houses tops. It wasn’t until I was probably in third or fourth grade that I went with friends from school or from the neighborhood. When I did go with my friends, I was allowed to go further than my own block. We could “hit” as many as sixty + houses which is a lot of candy. (I’m not sure I understand why parents today take their infants trick or treating with a treat bag. Take them to show them off in their adorable little costumes. I get that, I applaud that, I love that. It isn’t the taking I don’t understand, it’s the holding out their treat bag expecting to get candy for a child who obviously can’t eat candy yet. It just seems like the parents could buy their own candy, couldn’t they? Am I being too penny pinch-y?)

     My costumes were either homemade hand-me-downs or what I could pull together from old clothes of my parents. I recall a lot of dressing as a scarecrow or old lady or a hobo clown. One year, though, my mother made me a Raggedy Ann costume. It was so cute. She even made me a red yarn wig. There are no pictures, unfortunately. After Halloween I wore the dress part as a nightgown because my mother used flannel material to make it. I loved that costume. Mom made it just for me. Since I grew up with bedtime stories of  Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy, I loved being Raggedy Ann. It was a dream come true for me.

     There was a sweet shop at the end of my block where for a quarter, one could cash in on a whole bag of treats like pixie-sticks, suckers, bubble gum and licorice. But Halloween candy was special because you might get a full-sized Snickers or Milky Way or Three Musketeers, Tootsie Rolls or Tootsie Pops. If you were really lucky you could get a homemade caramel apple or a popcorn ball or any variety of yummy homemade goodies. My parents didn’t worry about razor blades or needles or drugged candy. There was no reason to worry. It was my neighborhood. The families had lived there forever. You knew everyone and were safe. One of my neighbors gave out cotton candy because they had a cotton candy machine in their garage. Another gave little bottles of Seven-up because they were the local distributor. Oh, for sure I got boxes of raisins and a penny or nickel sometimes. There was a year when the weather was not only cold but wet too and I lost the bottom of my paper trick or treat bag. (From then on I used a pillowcase.) Mostly my memories are great.

     I stopped going out on Halloween in the sixth grade. That year I went with a group of friends. We didn’t trick or treat, we TP’d and slathered each other with shaving cream. No costumes, we were way too old for that. I’m glad I can look back on that time and have happy memories. Today’s kids seem too competitive about costumes (or maybe it’s their parents). The costumes seem very elaborate and expensive.  Halloween was one day, not a full month celebration. We made pumpkins at school out of construction paper. When we got home we taped them to the front door or window. We didn’t put up twelve foot inflatable Frankensteins or circles of witches and ghosts. (Guilty.) Nor all the bloody tombstones and graveyards. (Again, guilty.) My parents never dressed up or had a party. Halloween was a children’s event. Today, adults spend a lot of money on costumes, makeup and parties. The more risqué the costume, it seems, the better. The more alcohol consumed, the better. I think maybe adults are living out their fantasies.

     In future, Halloween may become something we celebrated in the past. The weather doesn’t always cooperate, there are too many bad things to consider: pedophiles, marijuana infused candy, drunk drivers. I heard there’s a movement to try and move Halloween to the last Saturday in October. Maybe that is a good thing but in my opinion, the past really was better 👻.

     My experiences weren’t unique. I’m sure there are many of us of a certain age who have similar remembrances. I plan to write about other old stuff because I don’t want those memories to disappear when I do. I ask you to indulge me and, I promise, I won’t mind if you roll your eyes and groan.

 

     Remember when we used to pause, even think before we acted? Say someone did something to hurt you or said something about you to someone else. In defense, you wrote a letter to the person expressing your anger. Conceivably you could wait a few days before placing a stamp on the envelope and mailing it. You had time to cool off, reread what you’d written and maybe tear up the letter before it did further, irreparable damage. Time to rethink all the angry feelings, the hurt and frustration. Writing was (and is) cathartic. Often, you “got over” what incited you to write the letter in the first place.

     What about speaking without thinking? Remember being told “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” Or “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.” Or, one I really love, “It is better to be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.” When did we stop being considerate? Stop caring about what might hurt other people, their families and friends.

     When I was young, when someone said something hurtful, it was usually followed by “I was only teasing (or kidding or joking).” Didn’t make the words any less painful but it implied the speaker should be forgiven for their insensitivity because they didn’t know any better. Hopefully seeing the reaction to the words, the hurt look on someone’s face was enough to cause the speaker to feel shame or  regret. (But I doubt it. Fear of getting in trouble is more probable.)

     We’ve become a society of instant reactors. If we think it or feel it, we “tweet” it. No need to stop and consider what the consequences might be. No need to worry about how hurtful the words or names. After all, the interaction is anonymous, isn’t it? No need to see the look of hurt on the recipient’s face or worse, have to face any retaliatory response. “You’re a poopy head!” “No you are!” “Your Dad’s a crook.” “Your Mother’s a …” You get the picture.

     Angry feelings incite angry words. Once those words are spoken (or tweeted), they can’t be undone. The damage is done. If you don’t want to take the time to think before you speak, then you have to accept the consequences of your thoughts and words, whatever those might be. Words can be powerful and hateful. The wounds may be deep, the scars may be permanent. You also risk your own reputation because people may see you in a different light and not necessarily the way you want to be perceived or who you really are. On the other hand, people may see exactly who you are and realize you aren’t who they thought you were.

     It’s just too easy to react, type then hit send before you stop to consider how your words might be received. Don’t we have enough division without typing horrible, terrible things? Do we have the right to be vindictive or hurtful just because we have the technology to do so? I am happy to say I don’t tweet nor do I own a cellphone (and never will). As I blog, I take the time to read, reread and reread what I write here. I have to THINK before I publish. It does not matter what other people do, it only matters what we do. Let’s think more, be more considerate and less reactive.

     

Cruelty to our best friends, under the guise of love, is still cruelty.  Let me explain. My husband and I were driving home today after stopping at a nearby Fast Food Chicken place and saw not one but two dogs almost not make it to tomorrow. The first near fatality was in a parking lot. We saw a streak of brownish fur and then heard a loud male voice commanding the dog to “come”. Obviously it wasn’t working. Cars were whipping into and out of the lot. We didn’t hear squealing tires, thank goodness. As we exited the parking lot, we saw a man struggling to hang on to the collar of a brindle mixed breed dog as he dragged it toward a car. I couldn’t help but think, all right, say, “If his dog had been on a leash, that wouldn’t have happened.” Granted, I don’t know how the dog got loose in the first place but, had it been leashed, crisis averted.

The second near fatality happened in our own neighborhood. As we pulled around a semi-blind corner, slowly because my husband drives the speed limit-25 mph, we had our second close encounter. First we saw two guys (father/son?) running across the street. As I said, luckily we were driving as slowly as we were because a medium to little-size wiry, spotted dog ran out from between two parked cars and dashed right toward our car. My husband stopped immediately but as the man ran out into the street after the dog he had a look of pure horror on his face. The son just stood frozen on the sidewalk. Thankfully the dog kept going and the man and boy continued their chase. Again, had the dog been on leash, a catastrophe would have been avoided.

I’ve witnessed two dogs get hit by cars. Both times the dogs were off leash. The first incident was when I was pretty little, maybe eight or nine? I will never get the image out of my mind. It was a little white dog and after the car hit it, the driver just took off. Not to be graphic or gory but the dog was pretty smushed in the middle. I was so upset. But, in the 1950s, dogs weren’t treated like they are now-cats either for that matter. People let their dogs out to just wandered around the neighborhood. The dogs often made mutt puppies and this was long before people purposely mixed breeds to make doodles and puggles and pomskies. The second incident I saw happened while taking my own dog for a walk on leash. A doberman pincher (off leash) ran into the street, was hit by a station wagon and wound up under the car. Fortunately he wasn’t killed but did have several broken bones and a lot of trauma. It was horrible!

There weren’t leash laws, not enforced ones anyway, but there are now. They’re for everyone’s protection; you, other people and, most importantly, your dog. My husband and I would never dream of having our puppy off-leash. Before you ask what we do at dog parks, we don’t go to dog parks. It’s my fault, I worry about other dogs not being vaccinated or dogs that are unfriendly because honestly, I couldn’t bear anything bad happening to our puppy.

I got my first dog late in my life, in my late thirties. She was amazing. She had an amazing story. She taught me a lot about unconditional love and living. She helped me find my way to my husband and my wonderful life. She was with us for several more years and when her time came, we held her and sent her on. Our next dog was special  because she needed extra care. As a puppy she tore her ACL and had to undergo a couple of painful surgeries. She taught us both about being stoic and showing grace when life hands you truly sour lemons. She’s gone now too, but she was a great friend. They both were.

Our new little friend is keeping us on our toes. She’s energetic, funny and super smart. She’s healthy and happy and we mean to keep her that way. We have a harness-style leash and she has it on whenever she is out of the house, even in the car. In the car, she is hooked to the seatbelt so if we have to stop suddenly, she doesn’t become a projectile. Vets treat many, many dogs each year who are allowed to roam freely in the backseat of the car or, worse yet, the bed of a pickup truck. At least we know our puppy is safe and protected.

I’m sure she might like to be off leash; she loved the off leash part of puppy kindergarten. I was so proud when she ran with the other (often bigger) dogs in the class. She held her own and wasn’t intimidated by her classmates. She gets to run and sniff as much as she likes in the backyard and often gets “the rips” where she runs around like her tail is on fire. All around the yard, up on the deck, off the deck and back around the yard. But sometimes you have to put your best friend on leash to keep them from harm. You have to be “cruel” so they get to run and jump and play for many, many carefree days to come. So Leash Up!

    My husband will tell you, I visibly bristle when I hear someone telling a little girl that she’s “pretty”. Why not tell her she’s smart or kind or funny? Strong, brave or courageous? That she is a great leader?

   The pressure starts early. The message is clear. Being pretty is important. Being pretty makes people happy. When was the last time you told someone they were pretty or cute or even beautiful with a scowl on your face? When did you scream it in anger? Children want the people around them to be happy, cheerful. Their little lives are easier when everyone around them, especially the adults in their life, are in a good mood. The cycle of pleasing starts.

     We have to begin empowering our children right from the beginning. Self-esteem doesn’t just happen at some predetermined age. Our kids need to know it is good and imperative to love themselves. If you feel good about who you are,  bullies lose the power to hurt you. If you’ve been raised to believe in yourself, your unique talents and skills, I believe nothing can stop you. 

     Let’s be honest, everyone goes through the stages when we lose teeth or we need braces or we need to start wearing glasses. We may struggle with acne, we don’t seem to grow taller or we have an early growth spurt and wind up taller than everyone else in the class. We out-grow clothes too fast. I was a chubby little girl. I couldn’t wait to grow taller because my logic said if I was taller, my weight would be distributed over more area. Duh, instantly thinner! Didn’t happen that way. I didn’t get much taller and I didn’t lose my “baby” fat until I got mononucleosis when I was a sophomore in high school. I had a bad case of strep throat and couldn’t swallow anything. While getting treatment for the strep, my doctor discovered the mono. Upside, I lost a little over twenty pounds.

     I went to a public high school and yet, we were required to wear uniforms to school. The uniform was a straight, a-line or pleated black or navy blue skirt; white, short or long-sleeved blouse. The boys had to wear dark color slacks or jeans and a white shirt. The students were allowed to wear any sweater, vest or jacket with the uniform to “personalize” their outfits. It was meant to eliminate any competition created by trying to outdo each other.

     Let’s face it, there are hundreds of things to “pick” on someone: hair, clothes, weight, intelligence, money, possessions, cars, etc. We are all raised with biases. We are all raised with prejudices and the opinions of those around us. However, I believe parents can change how children react to teasing and bullying. Tell them right from the start all those things that will build their self-esteem and self-confidence; how smart they are, how strong and courageous, what a good helper and leader they are, what a good problem-solver they are and how loving and considerate they are of other people. And parents should teach through example.

     I know my life has been much harder because I was raised to please, well everyone. It’s a pretty tall order to fill, especially if you are a child. There’s nothing wrong with telling any child they are cute or pretty, especially if it’s a special occasion when they are all dressed up. However, if you can’t engage the child in conversation, please don’t resort to “Oh, you’re so pretty/cute/handsome” and then smile broadly at them like that’s the only reason you are so pleased with them.