Thursday, May 16, 2013

How Will They Know?





Someone I know posted this video on Facebook. How adorable.  


I love this video. I love the interaction between the little girl and her Dad. I love it when he laughs and when she looks both curious and proud. It demonstrates the profound power and necessities of learning:  A dedicated loving teacher, intrinsic curiosity, and pride.


I really liked the video - and then, it started to make me feel ashamed.  And angry.  And here is why:

The video caused me to reflect on the baffling question that people ask so often when they meet my friend Amy. She is deaf. She can not hear and does not read lips.  “Does she know how to read?” people have asked, time and time again.

The question baffles me because auditory language has nothing to do with visual comprehension.  

While the hearing community has a penchant for teaching reading via phonetics - phonetics has everything to do with speaking words aloud, and very little to do with reading comprehension itself. But I tend to think that the assumption that someone can not read because they are deaf has larger and far more disturbing roots in epidemic audism in our society.

(Audism:  "An attitude based on pathological thinking which results in a negative stigma toward anyone who does not hear; like racism or sexism, audism judges, labels, and limits individuals on the basis of whether a person hears and speaks.")


For many years now, scientific studies have shown that babies learn to communicate faster and with more efficacy when using sign language.  All people understand that basic body and hand signs can be far more effective than speaking out loud in situations such as when trying to communicate with someone out of hearing distance, or to indicate something important more privately when in a group, or to simply convey something more quickly than using spoken words will achieve.  Even in organized sports, hand signs are critical parts of game strategy.  And yet we forget or disregard the obvious importance ‘sign’ language has on effective communication.  

Why is comprehensive sign language not the first language of all people? Why are those who rely on signing not only treated as if they are at a disadvantage = but often as if the language itself indicates that they are of lesser intellect?  This makes little or no sense.  Surely no hearing person will look at the video above and automatically think - “Oh, look.  That baby is intellectually disabled because she is signing.  She must have a lower mental capacity.”  and yet that IS the automatic assumption toward far too many Deaf people by far too many hearing people in this country.

The roots of Audism are vast, troubling, and profound.  For thousands of years Deaf children were treated as if they were mentally handicapped, they were separated from their families, institutionalized and all but given up on without even a modicum of effort toward education or support.

Later, Alexander Graham Bell - who is heralded in our country as the “Father of Modern Communication” - would publicly and vociferously denounce deafness as a condition to be eradicated entirely.  Until we could achieve that, he believed that people should place all their efforts toward teaching the deaf to ‘speak aloud’ and avoid the use of sign language at all costs. The result?  In many schools and families, Deaf children endured severe punishment including having their hands tied behind their backs so they could not communicate by signing — in order to force them to attempt oral communication. His efforts to suppress the teaching of sign language were so widely accepted as either helpful or at the very least harmless - that this traumatic impact of his teachings are rarely even mentioned as a part of his ‘industrious’ record of furthering communication among the masses.  How many of you even knew this was a part of Bell’s legacy?  Yet, it is - and it speaks to the continued shaping of mass consciousness toward Deaf people as a whole.  Forget reading. How can you learn ANYTHING when you are a child and your hands are literally tied behind your back in a so called learning environment?  Deaf or not, this is an atrocious scenario.  While many quote Helen Keller in her respect for Bell, few people mention his advocacy of sterilizing women in families that appeared to carry a deaf gene.

For anyone who wants to argue -’yes but that mistreatment of Deaf people doesn't happen anymore so it isn’t relevant any longer -’ or - ‘well, I never made purposeful assumptions about being deaf means lower intellect, so prejudice of this nature does not apply to me -” I suggest you set those arguments aside and start first by showing how - because of the civil rights movement -  there is no longer prejudice or racism extended toward African Americans in our society.  Can any of you make that argument with conviction?  Negative societal norms and deeply rooted and damaging cultural biases impact every aspect of living within our society, every minute of every day.  How do we change that?  By admitting them, confronting them, and challenging them in equal measure.

I would like to say that I am only speaking about hearing people who are not advanced in progressive thinking in other ways, but I am not.  I am talking about my own poorly preconceived notions prior to learning more about Deaf culture, and I am talking about many of my own family and friends who I respect dearly.  

ASL has its own grammatical structure and syntax.  It is a different language than hearing English.  It is based in visuals and not auditory cues and response.  Therefore, if you read a chat board that is populated primarily by ASL users (deaf and hearing alike) you will see that the grammar being used is different than that of hearing English.  The assumption I first made, and that many hearing people will make - is that the grammar is wrong.  Poor.  Uneducated.  None of these things are true when applied to ASL.  Still, one friend said to me:  “Yes, well they need to learn good hearing English grammar, because how will they succeed in the world if they don’t?  People don’t understand.”  While this may sound reasonable at first - I am asking my progressive friends to back up right here and now and challenge your entire thought process.  Put it into a context where we are finally (with still, a long long way to go) challenging the exact same line of thought:

“Yes, well, that gay person is going to have to learn to act straight and present themselves as straight because this is mostly a straight world and it is their responsibility to fit in.  People don’t understand being ‘gay.’”

Most of us are starting to understand that the answer lies in equal rights, education, access, tolerance, and acceptance - and NOT in continuing to shame gay culture and continuing to force conformation on them as a whole - right?

But how is this different than the expectation that Deaf people conform in their spoken (visual) and written language to that of hearing people?  The reasons for expecting them too are rooted in the same pathological ideology and are equally disheartening and inappropriate.

Why do so many well intentioned straight people not speak up or challenge their assumptions when it comes to gay culture?  Because the issue is so widespread, so deeply entrenched, and has been perpetuated for centuries - it is often easier to not think about how we may just be a part of the problem as well.

Another person whose overall political ideology I greatly admire said to me:  “It might be annoying when hearing people assume that a deaf person can not read - but if they are not deaf how will they understand that a deaf person can read, unless they ask?”

Herein lies my response.  I do not have a problem with asking questions of or seeking knowledge about other cultures when someone doesn’t understand the process around something.  I think asking questions based in respect is healthy and critical to both individual and community growth. I have heard some frustrated Deaf people say stop asking the questions! I don't agree with that and have publicly said so. But people are not asking how my Deaf friend learned to read - they are starting out with the assumption that she can’t.  And I go back to the fact that life experience in and of itself will negate that assumption.  Children with laryngitis don’t forget how to read because their voice is rendered unusable.  Reading is not a hearing activity - in fact the vast majority of hearing people read in silence!  It is habitual and a natural state, to read without speaking aloud.  Many hearing people when called upon to read aloud in a group, feel so uncomfortable and conspicuous doing so - they feel physically ill when it happens.  So why the automatic assumption that being deaf means you can not read or even that learning to read must have been very difficult?  

Again, let’s put that question and why it offends me into context.  If you were a progressive intelligent white person with a black friend, and you went out to lunch, and the server automatically turned to you and said:  “Can your friend read?” and you knew the question was based solely on the fact that your friend was black - you would think it was absolutely absurd.  You would see immediately that the undercurrent of racism in this culture was perverse and terribly disrespectful.  How many of you, today, would say:  “But if you don’t ask, how will you know if a black person can read?”  No, most of us would say ‘ “What in the world does the color of someone’s skin have to do with reading?”  And so I ask, what does hearing have to do with reading?

If you want to say that the confusion exists because hearing people learn to read phonetically, I want to challenge that too.  I believe telling  yourself that phonetics is the reason for being confused as to how a Deaf person might be able to read is an automated response to excuse and deny the blatant audism that takes place in our culture.  Black people suffered through the travesty of a culture that forbade them from learning to read for hundreds of years.  They and many minorities have and still do endure schools and districts that are understaffed, underserved and dealing with a terrible lack of resources.  In other words, if we wanted to excuse an assumption that black people were not able to read with some kind of reasonable fact - we could - but we have come to understand that making any assumptions about skin color and ability is based in endemic racism and not ‘factual’ at all.  Yet we excuse and justify these same assumptions when directed toward the Deaf.

Many people in our society do still assume that black people are of lesser intelligence.  We do still employ a pervasive and shameful attitude of forced conformation toward gays.  Don’t ask.  Don’t tell!  Both of these things have to do with intrinsic racism and homophobia and not with excusable ignorance.  Why are we making excuses for our attitudes toward the Deaf?
Challenge yourself to recognize that these automated responses toward audism in our society speak to the same (beyond) destructive forces that create classism, elitism, homophobia and racism.  They are not excusable by an automated ‘logic’ that is not logical at all - but instead based in centuries of misinformation and subjugation and the repugnant need for power and control.  Challenge your thoughts, your questions, and the very root of your questions.  Why are you asking yourself if Deaf people can read?  Or drive?  Or understand things?  If anywhere in your question lies the implication that it is because their intellect is not the same as that of a hearing person - bingo.  There is the problem.  And the problem lies in premise of the question itself.

All that being said.  Don’t stop asking how.  That is a fair question.  That is about educating yourself.  That is about greater understanding.  It is appropriate to question a method you have no point of reference for.  But that is a question born of the intent to learn, and not born of the assumption that deafness must cause people to be of lower intellect.  

Words are a powerful thing.  So watch them.  Watch your words.  And not just when saying them out loud, but when thinking them to yourself too.  When you recognize that something is not right - educate yourself.  Educate others.  And advocate for any person, people, or culture you see being abused.  Start with yourself and spread it outwards.  That is how change will happen.  That is the answer to the question - how will people know?





To learn more - there are many resources.  Do a search for:  Audism, Sign language and babies, Alexander Graham Bell and Deaf Education, Captial D vs. d in the word deaf, deaf grammar, deaf stigma, or Deaf Culture - for starters.

Saturday, April 27, 2013

Rising Above

Oh, mirror in the sky 
What is love? 
Can the child within my heart rise above? 
Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? 
Can I handle the seasons of my life? 
- Fleetwood Mac




I have known since I was a child.  I said it out loud when I was eleven years old, I said it to my mother.  I said it to my father and stepmother.  I said it to some of my friends.  In as much as an eleven year old can understand these things about herself, I knew.  But just as soon as I was able to say the words out loud, I forgot them.  It's not because my parents or friends got angry at me.  They didn't try to argue with me.  That's not what happened.  In fact, that would have been easier, but that's not why I forgot.  The act of forgetting this thing about myself required a total collusion between my heart, my body, and my mind.  A dissociation so strong, I couldn't have told you it happened if you asked.  I was not keeping a secret - it was keeping me.

Knowing things about who you are, the core of who you are, is a fundamental part of being whole.  It is critical to the process of growing up and crafting a life that is fulfilling and worthwhile.  Understanding your values, your needs and the calling of your heart is a lifelong journey.  The earlier you begin, the better you will be able to stand against the misinformation and misdirection and shaming that is rampant in this country - in this world.  And if you can't stand against what is wrong, how can you ever feel with surety that being who you truly are - is right?    


Avoiding the truth about some things is second nature for me.  I am an addict and I am mentally ill.  I am in recovery and I am managing my illness, so I like to forget those things because I like to forget the societal stigma that is attached to them.  If you add societal stigma onto something you want to forget, suddenly the whole world is in agreement that collective amnesia is a good thing.  So I bought into it.  I thought the price was fair.  It turns out I sold a piece of heart and soul out from under me and finding the strength to buy them back has been harder and more painful than I ever could have imagined.





I have some confessions to make.  I'll start with an easy one.

I am a vegetarian.  

There isn't much societal stigma attached to being a vegetarian, but there is some.  For vegans, the dietary choices of vegetarians are preferable to the carnage of being a carnivore - but it is not quite good enough.  For the omnivores, a person's choice to be a vegetarian is interesting ("Really?  Why are you doing that?") or to be humored ("Oh, I wish I had the willpower.  I could never live without bacon/chicken/sashimi - whatever...") at best.  In the middle is an attitude of some disrespect ("Your joking right?" or "Come on, eat just a little of this beef casserole, it won't hurt you.")  And at the more painful end of the spectrum are the people who feel it is their job to lecture a person on the health benefits of eating meat, or express concern that is rooted in misinformation.  My step-daughter told me with great confidence that all of my hair was going to fall out because there is no way to make up for the protein one gets from eating meat.

Why am I a vegetarian?  I'll tell you.  The answer is well rehearsed because so many people ask.  I find that interesting.  For the omnivores out there, how often are you asked "Why do you eat meat!?"  Yet, when a person expresses something slightly different in preference, they are made to feel they must justify themselves.  I find that interesting and annoying.

I am a vegetarian because I believe that the mainstream meat industry in this country is repulsive in their treatment of animals. In addition, the processes that they use to 'enhance' their product is downright disturbing when it comes to the health consequences of consumers.  

I am a vegetarian because in this country our choices in diet are extraordinarily generous and abundant.  Making selections that are meatless, healthy, delicious, and filling is easy and more than possible.  

I am a vegetarian because I have more energy and I feel a more wholistic sense of cleanliness when I am not trying to digest meat products.  

I am a vegetarian because it feels right to my body, mind, and spirit.

Ok.  So confessing that I was a vegetarian really wasn't very hard, at all.

But imagine this.

Imagine if, as a child, I always knew that I didn't like meat.  I preferred vegetables and other non-meat foods.  But everyone, everywhere, always told me that eating meat was integral to my spiritual and societal well being.  

Imagine if I knew very few other vegetarians and the ones I heard about were stigmatized and marginalized to the point where I myself began to believe that it was an anomaly - an unfortunate situation.  Even if I respected them, I felt sorry for them, for the challenges of living in this society as vegetarians.  Imagine how I would internalize my own leaning toward a meatless diet.  

Is it a little hard to imagine what I am talking about, because I am talking about vegetarians?

Let's add another layer to the hypothetical situation above. Imagine that I tried to eat meat because everyone expected me too, and I felt that I would not fit in with my friends or be loved by many people in my family if I said aloud "I do not eat meat."  

And then this, imagine that my childhood was so deprived of food in general that I became confused about whether I really did want to eat meat or not, because I was just so hungry all of the time.  

Is that a little easier to conceptualize?  

But let's say that there was a fierce spirit in me that knew that being a vegetarian was part of who I was, and that in the blossoming years of pre-adolescence I did know this one thing about myself and I was young and brave so I said it aloud.  "I am a vegetarian."  And it felt right to say it, because at my core - it was true.

But then, something happened.  One day, someone older and stronger than me convinced me to pick up a chicken leg and take a bite.  I was scared and didn't really want to, but I wanted to impress this person, so I thought - one bite won't hurt...

But when I took the bite, it did hurt.  And it was made worse by the horrific thing that happened next.  The person who convinced me to take the bite - the person I wanted to impress - reached over and shoved the chicken leg down my throat as far as they could.  They shoved it until I was gagging and terrified and thought I might die.  What if they wrapped their hand around mine while I was holding the leg of chicken and squeezed so hard it was painful and I couldn't let go.  What if when I finally got my hand free it was covered in grease and bits of chicken flesh and the horror of even looking at my own hand made me want to shake it free of my body.  What if I was eleven years old and knew nothing about the utter and complete wrongness of this other person's actions?  What if I thought the whole thing was my fault because I agreed to take that first bite?  What if I accepted all of the shame that revolved around this situation even though none of it belonged to me in the first place?

This is a pretty horrendous image that I am presenting to you, yes?  This is something you may be able to conjure up in your mind but you do not want to.  Perhaps some of you have looked away, perhaps it is even hard to read this scenario - much less consider that it could happen to someone.

Now, as an eleven year old who has been damaged to her core by this painful and shame filled situation, I would have few options.  I feel dirty and as if I want to separate from my own flesh.  But I can not do this physically, so I do it spiritually, emotionally, intellectually.  It happens without my thinking.  It is a coping mechanism.

From there, you might think I would never eat meat again.  But it is not that simple.  Because the truth is, what sometimes happens when a person has separated out a core part of their being - is that they forget what felt right for them in the first place.  Not eating meat might have meant acknowledging that this horrible thing happened to me.  So I kept eating it.  I eat it because I no longer know any better.  My body still does not feel right when I eat meat.  Something inside is not being true to itself.  But I don't want to know what or why.  Knowing might mean going back to those terrible memories.  So I never think about it.  I accept the feelings of shame as a normal part of the process of eating meat.  I do it so often, I never even consider that it doesn't have to feel this way.  I think this feeling of shame must be the way it is for everyone.  I look around and see that the vast majority of people eat meat and it's just fine for them.  I want desperately to have a healthy and happy diet like the rest of the world.  Maybe if I eat just a little more meat.  Maybe I need a different kind of meat.  I get completely confused.  I think that eating meat is the key to my very happiness.

And the messages all around me continue.  If I don't eat meat, for the love of God, I'll go to hell!  If I say I am a vegetarian, I will lose my job and I can't be a part of the groups and clubs that meat eaters can join without question.  If I even look like a vegetarian, I will be attacked by churches and in schoolyards and by government and societal laws that state unequivocally that I am a second class citizen.  If I say or look or act like a vegetarian I will be bullied mercilessly, I might be beaten or murdered.  I will watch with horror as my fellow vegetarians begin killing themselves in their teen years at an epidemic rate.

If I admit to myself and others that I am a vegetarian, I will be told that I may never marry the person I love, that I may never be able to have children, that I can not benefit from the provisions provided to families and loved ones who were meat eaters.  And imagine if people were vociferously complaining in the press and in courthouses all the way up to the supreme court that if vegetarians were given rights, then meat eaters would all be in danger of becoming vegetarians?  That vegetarians would be empowered to shove vegetables down the throats of innocent children!  That the sanctity of meat eating and everything good would be destroyed!  What if churches and biblical leaders were shouting from their pulpits that the very existence of vegetarians meant that deadly plagues and fatal viruses and terrorist bombings were all being visited upon the earth because of the wrath of God.  The wrath of God being caused by the fact that some people were being true to their bodies, to their minds, to their very spirits, that some people were brave enough to stand tall and say - in the face of all of this - "No, I am a vegetarian.  That is what feels right and true to me, and I will not be intimidated into pretending that I am someone who I am not."

Imagine living in a society where eating meat was seen not only as a superior diet, but meat eaters were projected as superior human beings in general.

Did you know that, ironically, there are several passages in the bible that refer to meat eating as sinful, dirty, and wrong?

I Corinthians 8:13:  Therefore, if what I eat causes my brother or sister to fall into sin, I will never eat meat again, so that I will not cause them to fall.


Acts 15:20:  Instead we should write to them, telling them to abstain from food polluted by idols, from sexual immorality, from the meat of strangled animals and from blood.


Romans 14:21:  It is better not to eat meat or drink wine or to do anything else that will cause your brother or sister to fall.

Now, I ask you - in relation to vegetarianism, this seems more than absurd - doesn't it?  To think that society would condone such cruel and intolerable attitudes toward those who eat meat is unthinkable.  And as for the biblical references - well, those are taken out of context and antiquated anyway.  They are in reference to a society and culture that simply no longer exists.  They do not apply.  It goes without saying - right?  To use them as a unilateral reason for shaming people because of what they eat, blaming people because of what they eat, beating and killing people because of what they eat - would quite literally be criminal.  Right?

But if this were reality, if this were the case and all of these things happened to me, the confusing childhood and the abuse and the cultural messaging - it might be easy to understand why I could with complete conviction forget what felt right and true for my body.  It would be easy to see that I could forget who I was and live with a hole inside me, willingly.  That I would accept the shame that I felt every time I ate meat, and assume that it was just the way that life was.  

And it would be just as easy to understand that after years of this, I would begin to break down - still not understanding why.  I would become convinced that I was broken inside.  That nothing would ever taste good because at my core - I was bad.  And, its understandable that the suggestion that I revisit the impact of the trauma that befell me so many years ago when that meat was shoved down my throat would not, in any way, appeal to me.  

It's a very sad and disheartening scenario, isn't it?  If I knew someone who this happened to, I would be rooting for that person to find the strength to say what was true.  To stand in opposition to the ugliness and intimidation of this society and demonstrate for themselves and their children that doing so, being strong and honest, is more important than buckling under the pressure of widespread attitudes and messages and laws that were downright wrong.  Not just wrong, but deeply damaging to the human spirit and soul. If I knew someone this happened to, I would pray for the child within that person to find the strength to confront the demons of their past and give the shame back to their abuser.  To be able to stand up and say to all of these terrible forces - "I will not let you take away the core of who I am.  I will not let you steal myself from me."

I would root for that person, wouldn't you?

***

I have a confession to make.  When I was eleven years old, I told my parents I was gay.  It was true then and it is true today.




In the months after I told my parents this - when I was still eleven years old - I was molested repeatedly by the husband of an older friend of mine. He was in his early twenties.  They had a child and I babysat for her.  This man was a father and a husband and a musician.  He was funny and handsome and had many friends - a few of whom also molested me at his urging.  And so they ripped out a piece of my heart and soul.  And they kept it for over thirty years.

If you replace the word vegetarian with the word lesbian in the scenario above, then you will have the full truth of my experience in relation to my sexuality.  I and millions of other gay people in this country are subject to incredibly disturbing and terrifying cruelty on a daily basis.  An attack on the very core of who we are as human and spirit beings.  It happens full view of everyone else - every single day of our lives.

I forgot who I was for these reasons, and it was a total and complete amnesia.  I was married twice and I truly believed that I was in love and that these were the right choices for me.  Let me be clear, neither of my marriages failed because I was repressing the fact that I was lesbian (from even myself).  Perhaps they eventually would have failed for that reason, but at the time that they deteriorated, this was not the reason why.  I have loved many men and I truly believed that loving a man more or better would heal that wound inside me.  But no matter how hard one tries, eating meat can not and will not ever heal a body, mind, and spirit that is vegetarian at its core.  Neither would my relationships with men heal the hurt inflicted on my body, mind, and spirit and its longing to be true to itself as a lesbian.  

When I was seventeen I attempted suicide, twice - so excruciating was the wound inside of me.  In my late thirties I began to break down again.  And again.  I could not shake the feeling of being dirty and worthless.  I felt like everything good about me was a fraud.  I did not know who I was.  Eventually, I nearly gave up completely.  Something about my body was wrong.  When I was 42 I developed an eating disorder - restricting anorexia - my hands and my mouth were unwilling to work together anymore and so for the most part I just stopped eating.  I knew I could die.  Days turned into weeks turned into months and it is a miracle I did not die.  I just didn't care.  I didn't want to be me.  I was finished.  I didn't know what was real and I could not pretend, anymore.

But I am a mother, and that calling was stronger than the part of me which was willing to die.  So one day I agreed to go into inpatient treatment and I began to learn to eat again.  In fact, a year ago at this time, I was in a hospital doing just that.

In the hospital, a counselor told me something that I had heard before - time and time again.  She said, "You must confront your PTSD.  You must do this for yourself now.  It is time. If you don't, it will succeed in what it is trying to do.  It will kill you."  I had heard this before, but for the first time - I listened.

If I told you that the journey to acknowledging this about myself was easy, I'd be lying.  If I told you that I am not terrified right this very moment of saying this aloud, publicly, I'd be lying.  But I was brave enough to say it when I still knew myself, when I was still a child - and I want to be that brave again.

I am rooting for that child within me, I truly am.  And for all the children and people out there who are bombarded by the same shaming that does not belong to them - for all of the teens who are suicidal and all of our fellow human beings who are being beaten and murdered and suppressed and repressed and lied to when they are told that they are not worthy of God's love - for all of us who are subject to a landslide of constant injustice, I am saying this out loud - right now, today - because I am rooting for us all.  

I am rooting for us all.


**I want to note that I began to come out to close family and friends a year ago.

So far all of them have been incredibly supportive and accepting - including my ex-husband.  My son had the most difficulty accepting this about me.  He is a teenager growing up in the suburbs whose friends still use gay derogatory terms to insult one another.  He was afraid of telling anyone.  He held a lot in.  As time went by, he began to tell his friends and to ask me more questions and eventually even told me that in truth, he wasn't surprised.  He told me that he was proud of me for finally acknowledging this about myself.

As most of you who read this blog know, he is dealing with addiction issues at a residential treatment facility right now.  The first week that he was there, during lunch - a group of boys at the table behind him were joking around and one of the boys said to another - "You're such a faggot."

My son stood up and turned around.  In front of everyone in the room, he looked this boy in the eyes and said:

"My mom is gay."

I said in an earlier post that my son was more brave than I was.  And it is true.  He is modeling so much for me about bravery.  So I am writing this for him too.





Wednesday, April 24, 2013

I Know Someone Brave


You can be amazing
You can turn a phrase into a weapon or a drug
You can be the outcast
Or be the backlash of somebody’s lack of love
Or you can start speaking up
Nothing’s gonna hurt you the way that words do
And they settle ‘neath your skin
Kept on the inside and no sunlight
Sometimes a shadow wins
But I wonder what would happen if you

Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

- Sarah Bareilles, Brave






I really wish she had been more brave.  I know a woman who's first marriage fell apart over a decade ago.   Her husband was a liar.  He lied about little things and he lied about big things, At first when he'd get caught she'd give him chance after chance.  Her heart was broken over and over again.  But she was afraid to be alone.  She was afraid of the pain of walking away with a broken heart.  And so the lies and the chances went on and on.

I really wish the liar had been more brave.  I think that the majority of lies are perpetrated because people are too cowardly to face the consequences of their actions.  And so this liar lied about what he did during the day. He lied about who he'd been with.  He lied about where he got his money.  He lied about what he did with his money.  He lied about a lot of things.

One of the things he lied to her about was the fact that he was unemployed.  He used to get up every morning, put on a uniform, and leave the house for 'work.'  He did this every day for months.  He continued to do this while his wife was pregnant, and continued after their son was born.  He was really good at that lie.

His wife was the one who provided for the vast majority of expenses.  She paid the mortgage and utilities and other bills every month.  She worked evenings and weekends - even after her baby was born -to ensure that these bills were paid.   On occasion - her husband (the liar) would come home with a small wad of cash.  You might ask how it is that he managed to produce that wad of cash without an actual job.  Good question.  She still doesn't know.

Eventually, it was time to file taxes.  So his wife asked the liar for his W-2.  It goes without saying that you won't have a W-2 if you haven't had a job all year - so this was a challenge for the liar.  He hemmed.  He hawed.  And then finally he said it had been lost, so he handed her a zeroxed copy of a W-2 on a piece of paper.  "Here," he lied.  "The office made me a new one."

The copy had his name on it, and the correct dates, and everything else needed to make it look like an actual W-2.  I told you, the liar was very good at what he did.

Except for one rather large oversight.

A few weeks after she filed the taxes, the wife was looking for something in the trunk of the car that she shared with her husband.  She was moving things around and picked up a large manilla envelope she hadn't seen before.  It was not sealed and when she lifted it - a piece of paper fell out.  At first, she didn't understand what she was seeing.  It was a zerox of a W-2 from several years earlier, but it had the current year taped over the original date.  And the income amount had been taped over with a new amount as well.  And the address had been changed. You see, the liar had created a W-2 using an intricate cut and paste job.  And because he left the proof in the trunk of their car, he got caught.

Presented with the irrefutable evidence, he admitted that he hadn't been working for months.  He admitted that he had been lying the entire time.  Yes, she was angry. Yes she was in shock.  (She had never even heard of someone lying about something like this  - for so long - to his own wife.)  She decided that she was partly to blame.  She was too hard on him, she told herself.  Her expectations had been too high.  She had nagged him too much.  She had done something to encourage this terrible lie.

I wish he had been brave enough to stop lying.  

I wish she had been brave enough to understand that betrayal is never the fault of the person being betrayed.

But he kept lying.  And she kept telling herself that if he just loved her a little bit more, he would stop.

He was wrong to have kept lying.

She was wrong to have thought it had anything to do with love, at all.

Finally, when their son was three years old, she said she'd had enough - and finally she walked away.  It was one of the hardest things she had ever done.  Except for the lying, her husband had been a good man. He was charming and funny and they shared a child together.  She married him because she thought she was going to spend the rest of her life with him.  She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

The liar didn't lie to her because he didn't love her.  It is hard to know exactly why he lied so often, but it didn't have to do with lack of love.

And so, both walked away with broken hearts.  And in between those broken hearts, buffering their pain, caught in the middle, was a three year old little boy.





Life went on.  She remarried.  She and the liar shuttled their child back and forth, and that child was amazingly resilient.  Sometimes she thought to herself, 'my but he is a brave little boy.'

She watched as the liar went back to school, and then finished. He earned a teaching credential and began teaching high school history.  She watched and marveled at the fact that her ex-husband was finally taking care of business.  Sometimes, she wondered with a bit of melancholy - why couldn't he have done that with her?  But she focused on the positive, that finally he was setting a good example for their child.

Then, he met a woman.  He fell in love and that would have been fine - except something unexplainable pushed some of the devotion he'd had for his son out of the way - to make room for this new woman.  Suddenly, he was unable to adhere to the 50/50 custody arrangement he had insisted on when the divorce happened.  He was traveling, he was busy, he had last minute conflicts.

Who has a conflict when it comes to being with their own child?  The woman I know often wondered.  But she held her tongue.  She was afraid to speak up.  She didn't want to rock the boat.  She didn't want to fight.  She didn't want to point out the obvious.  Maybe she would appear to be jealous or bitter or petty.  She didn't want anyone to think those things.  So she sat by and watched as this time, her son's heart was broken, over and over again.

A little over a year after the liar met this woman, he married her.  And two months after that, his new wife became pregnant.  A month before the baby was born, the liar and his new wife decided that they were going to live in a different state than California.  

When he finally told his ex-wife and his son that he was going to move - it was precisely one day before he left town.  I suppose he felt guilty, as he did break down and cry when he told this to his son.  His ten year old tried to comfort him.  The liar cried but his ten year old son, who was the one being left behind, did not.  My but he was a brave boy.

The liar told his son that it was not going to be a permanent move.  That he would be back in three months.  But he was not.  He did not return for over a year.  If anyone said to the boy, 'that must be really hard for you,' the boy would vehemently defend his father.  "He's busy.  He has a lot going on with my new little brother and stuff.  It's not his fault."

And so it went.

When the boy was 12, his father returned and began teaching again.  Still, his father was unable to see him regularly.  "My wife still lives out of state.  I need to fly back to see her every weekend."  The boy said he understood.  The woman I know never told her ex-husband she thought this was crap or that she thought he was treating his first son like he was not as important as his second one.  She didn't want to rock the boat.  She didn't want to make him mad.  She was afraid.

The boy had gotten used to living mainly with his mother.  His school was near his mother's house, his friends were near his mother's house, and so when his father was still unable to see him regularly, he did not complain.  "He's busy.  He has a lot going on with my new little brother and stuff.  It's not his fault," he said again.  Sometimes his mother thought to herself about her son, my what a brave young man.

***

And then, one day that boy started using drugs, losing friends, and he stopped going to school.  He flew into rages and punched holes in walls.  Then he would try to collect himself, he would say he was sorry, he would promise to stop doing what he was doing.  He tried to be brave.  But somehow, he just couldn't get rid of all that rage.


The reasons for his rage were not as simple as or exclusive to the fact that his father had been a liar and then began to treat him as second class.  There were other things just as complex and painful that were troubling him.  He was angry at his mother for a number of things.  Over and over again she stood and listened to him.  "I'm  listening.  I'm here.  I hear you."  She would say again and again.

One day, when the boy was 15, he decided he wanted to talk to his father about something.  The boy was having trouble reaching his father on his cellphone.  He knew that at his own school, all of the teachers had phones in their classroom.  So for the first time in all those years, the boy tried calling his father at work.

"We don't have a teacher here by that name," the phone receptionist explained.  The boy was confused.  He said his father's name again.  "No, we don't have a teacher here by that name.  I don't recall us ever having had a teacher here by that name." She said again.

So the boy cornered his mother.  "Explain to me why you divorced my father?" He demanded.  So she did her best to give him the details.  When her son told her what had happened when he tried to call his father at work, he asked her what she thought.  At first she went into shock.  Even she had believed for all these years that the lying had stopped.

"Do you think my dad has been lying to me?" Her son asked.

I wish she had been brave enough to tell him the truth.  But she was afraid.  "I don't know," she said.  "It's hard to say..."  She didn't want to believe it.  "Maybe he's a teacher's assistant...  Maybe..."  She tried to make up reasons.  But she knew what must have been the truth.  Still, she was afraid of breaking her son's heart.  She was afraid to tell him the truth.  And in this way, she began to lie too.

So the boy, mustered something neither of his parents had modeled for him - and he confronted his father.  The liar did what he knew how to do so well.  "There's a mistake...  There's a misspelling in my name...  They don't pronounce it the same...  Students answer the phone.  They don't know all the teachers...  I was out sick that day..."  I don't know exactly what he said.  He said a lot of things.  He said everything but the truth.

"There, you see."  Said the boy's mother, when she heard his account.  Even though she knew it was more lying.

But the boy didn't believe.  He didn't believe his father and he didn't believe his mother, and he was already a great big mess and this just made things messier.  What is left when you are still a child and you can't trust your mom or your dad?

One day not long after, the boy nearly overdosed.  When he came to, he was with his father, and that boy flew into a rage.  He yelled.  He swung at his father.  He ran out of the house.  He screamed at his father.  The police were called.  They drew their guns, the boy was handcuffed.  And then finally they released him and sent back to his father's house.  The rage continued.  His father told him he had to be more responsible.  His father told him he had to be a better example for his little brother.  His father told him a lot of things but they all made it worse not better.

Finally, the boy called his mother.  She knew how angry he was.  She knew about his rage.  But he was her son so she went and got him.  He broke down.  His parents were useless.  I need help.  He told her.  He was telling the truth.  He told her he was angry at her for this.  He was angry at her for that.  She had made many mistakes, most of which had nothing to do with his father.  And then he told her about his father.  He told her he was hurt.  He told her he was angry about this.  He was angry about that.  And so she said to him the most truthful thing she could.  "I'm  listening.  I'm here.  I hear you."

It took this woman I know ten days to find a place that would take her son and help him with his addiction issue and his pain and all that rage.  In all that time he refused to speak to his father.  When he went into rehab, his counselors called the woman, the boy called the woman.  But still he refused to talk to his father.  Finally, one of the counselors called the woman and told her:  "You must tell your son the whole truth about what happened and what you believe is going on right now.  He wants to know and someone must start telling him the truth.

So she wrote him a letter.  She told him the truth about the fact that she was glad that she'd married his father and had a baby, because that child was him.  She told him the truth about what she knew about his father and why she believed that yes, he was still lying.  She told him the truth about what she thought he might be doing for money, and she told him the truth about not really knowing that at all.  And then she told him that she understood that his heart might be breaking.  And finally she said, I know how you feel.  I have been where you are, and I understand the hurt.  She told him she knew it was probably worse for him though, because this wasn't someone he picked, it wasn't someone he could move on from and 'find someone new.' The liar wasn't her husband anymore, but he was still his father.

Meanwhile, the liar contacted the boy's mother.  "Our son won't talk to me.  What should I do?"  He asked.

"You've got to start telling him the truth."  She suggested.

Two weeks after the boy went into rehab, his counselor finally called his father.  "Your son wants to see you."

When the liar arrived he hadn't seen or heard from his son in a month's time.  But his son walked into the room standing tall and looking strong.  The very first thing he did was look at his father and say:  "Dad, you need to tell me about the job you have said you've had for the past three years.  About the job that you said was the reason you couldn't pick me up from school on some days, the meetings you had that meant you couldn't spend time with me.  The students you told me admired you.  You need to tell me the truth."

Sometimes our children give us chances we don't deserve.  A lot of the time our children give us chances we don't deserve.  Even when their hearts have been broken, again and again and again.

But the liar did what he always did.  "I'm a teacher!  I teach history!  The school made a mistake -"

Now, the counselor, she had not had her heart broken by this man.  She was concerned with one person in the room, only.  She was not afraid.

"Let's clear this up right here and now," She said.  "Let's call the school administration and verify that you are a teacher."

So, the liar did what liars do.  He changed his story.

"Ok, I am not a permanent teacher.  I am a substitute.  I substitute every day, but they won't have me on their teacher list.  That's why they didn't have me on their phone list.  That's why."

"Let's call the schools where you substitute then, they can verify this," the counselor pressed.

The liar squirmed.  He didn't like this counselor.

"Ok, I don't substitute every day.  I haven't substituted for about three weeks.  The school won't remember me - but..."

And that is when his son told him the truth.

"Dad, I don't believe you.  I can't believe you have been lying to me about so much for so long.  But what I do know is that you've been a crappy father.  You haven't been there for me, you aren't the person I thought you were, and you aren't the person I needed for a father."

The liar broke down.  He admitted he'd been lying for years.  He admitted he'd never even had a teaching credential.  He admitted that no one knew.  Not his family, not his friends.  Not his new wife or child.  Please don't tell, he begged his son.

He finally told the truth, and in reply - so did his son.  "I don't know what you expect me to do with all this information, but I am not going to lie about this just because you do."

After, the mother had a chance to visit with her son.  "What are you going to do?" She asked him.

"I don't know, but I don't want to see him right now.  I need some time to figure it out." He said.

"You might not ever be able to figure it out," she said - speaking from experience.

"I know, but I need to wait and see what my dad does now." The boy explained.

"You must be very angry at me too," the woman I know conceded.

"I am," he said.  "But it's different."  He said.

"Why?" She asked.

"Because mom, you listened.  You were there.  You heard me."

***

So this boy is struggling with the gravity of the truth right now.  And his mother wishes that she knew what she could do to take this away or fix it, but she knows that she can't.  This is the hardest position for a mom to be in, and she is grieving terribly for her son.

But she is also astounded by the fact that he is the one who was able to look his father in the face and demand the truth, no matter how much it hurt to hear it.  He was the one to do that, despite that fact that he must have been terribly afraid.  

This woman I know is astounded by her child's bravery.  She can't believe she knows someone so brave.  She understands that what he has modeled for both of his parents is a profound gift.

And she can only hope that her ex-husband will see it as the same, and stop now, stop today, stop being The Liar, and start being a father, instead.

Monday, April 8, 2013

I'm Telling You Now


“Sometimes when you pick up your child you can feel the map of your own bones beneath your hands, or smell the scent of your skin in the nape of his neck. This is the most extraordinary thing about motherhood - finding a piece of yourself separate and apart that all the same you could not live without.” 
― Jodi PicoultPerfect Match

My beautiful boy,

I know you will be home soon, but I miss you more than you can know.  You bring such amazing light into my life, everything now is coated with a watery mud.  The air seems thick, blurry and dark.  Have I ever told you that before?  About the light you bring into my life?  Have I told you that?  Have I taken for granted that you know how very much I love you?  

If that is true, I regret it terribly. Let me try to tell you now. Let me share with you what no one ever told me.

No one ever told me how beautiful you would be.  That looking into your sweet baby face would be more incredible than looking into a night sky illuminated by the miracle of star after star. More beautiful than the sun's scattered reflection on a lake.  More beautiful than a thousand diamonds falling from the sky.  No one ever told me how astonishing beauty could be, and I never knew until the first time I looked at you, and you at me.


No one ever told me that raising a child is an endless act of faith.  Faith in the world, faith in justice, faith in every teacher and every neighbor and every other person who has ever taken your hand.  No one ever told me that when I saw you hurting and my faith faltered, I would question every choice, every decision, and every dream I'd ever had.  


No one ever told me that every word I spoke, every decision I made, every effort I put forth would now include someone new.  Without thinking, without purposeful intent, every wish I have ever had is colored by the knowledge that I am and forever will be a mother.

No one ever told me how overwhelming and honorable of a job motherhood would be.  No one ever told me that there would be no interview, no preparation, no study guide or clues.  And yet it would be the most important thing I would ever do.  No one ever told me.


No one ever told me how important my life would become, simply because someone else's life had suddenly become more important than my own.

No one ever told me that there would be moments when I would look into your eyes and know with a greater surety than I have ever known anything else - that you are why I am here.


No one ever told me that I would eat, breath and sleep in a different way, forever.  In a way that included another human being in every corner of my heart.  No one ever told me that unconditional love was not an effort but a given.  No one ever told me that the trees would grow greener and flowers smell sweeter because the core of my being was alive with the knowledge of you, oh beautiful you.


No one ever told me that my mistakes would no longer be my own, but they would impact you as well.  No one ever told me that my inability to remember what was the most important thing in the world would mean that the most important thing would forget he was that important to me, too.

No one ever told me how terribly I would fail at honoring the astonishing gift that motherhood provides.  No one ever told me that there would be times I would hold on too tightly and times when I would let go too soon, and that during both the bruises that resulted would belong to you and yet I would feel them in every drop of blood running through my veins.

No one ever told me that my joy would be proportionate to your well being and that I could not control nor ensure either.  

No one ever told me that your story would be etched in ivory like a map upon my bones.

My beautiful boy, no one ever told me these things - but each one is true.  No one ever told me, but I want you to know, so listen, because I am telling you now.

You are the beating of my heart and the breath of my soul.

I love you.

- Mom