The Upside of Crisis

It's been a rough couple of months. You know when a situation quickly escalates from bad to The Room (except it's too immediate to even be funny yet)?

When I'm not hiding in my closet, crying, or hiding in my closet crying, I've been doing some crisis-induced thinking. Except when it feels like CRISIS and not just unfortunate-situation-I'm-trying-to-deal-with, it gets really hard to think clearly.

When I'm in fight-or-flight mode I really only want to do one of two things:

1) Run away.
2) Punch someone in the face.
3) Punch someone in the face and then run away.

Okay, that was three things, but you get the idea.

That's the downside of crisis. Calm, rational thought goes right into the proverbial whirring garbage disposal (along with, unfortunately, the ability to execute normal day-to-day functions like brainstorming my next crockpot recipe and wearing matching socks. Wait--who am I kidding. I can't even manage that on a good day).

I feel like I'm in the midst of emotional warfare, but they brought a [insert military grade weapon here] and I brought a paper clip and a stick of chewing gum (In case you were wondering, I'm losing).

Add to this the fact that my emotional reaction time is basically glacial. If you stab me repeatedly with a piece of broken glass I might say "ouch" roughly two weeks later. Imagine how long it takes me to heal. Yeah.

And just as the wound appears to be scabbing over, I get stabbed, again, by someone who keeps telling me they would rather succumb to a flesh-eating disease than hurt me. It's confusing as #$@!.

But I digress. The upside.

Recognizing that I am a human person with human limitations

Unspoken Rule #178 - Do not be weak.

Unspoken Rule #3 - Don't be a victim.

Unspoken Rule #65 - If you cry, expect to be made fun of. Oh, and if you do cry, people are secretly judging you for being overly emotional and "weak."

Unspoken Rule #82 - Never allow yourself to be dependent on someone else.

Unspoken Rule #77 - If you are dependent on someone else, they will resent you. For being weak.

Unspoken Rule #34 - Do not ask for help.

Unspoken Rule #91 - You need to figure this out on your own.

Unspoken Rule #117 - The worst thing you can do is feel sorry for yourself.

Learning the signs of "I'm not okay"

I feel like this must be easier for other people. Maybe not. It takes me days (it feels like) to even realize that I'm upset. I analyze and compartmentalize my emotions as if they are completely separate from me, kind of like other people might organize their DVD collection by genre, director or year of release.

"I'm filing all my Wes Anderson movies under M for 'melancholy.'"

Acknowledging some hard-to-accept truths about myself

Hard Truth #35 - I don't have a ton of automatic respect for authority, power, position, or the status quo.

Hard Truth #21 - I have a near-crippling fear of disapproval from authority figures.

Hard Truth #88 - I think I'm better than the rules. See also Hard Truth #35 & Hard Truth #21. See also, COMPLETELY SCREWED.

Hard Truth #103 - Subverting the system makes me gleeful and somewhat smug. [Thanks a lot, Dad.]

Hard Truth #999 - I ride my bike to work, drink fruit-oatmeal-spinach-flaxseed smoothies, and attend the occasional yoga class. Yes, I have become THAT person.

I have really awesome friends

They would be awesome even if I wasn't going through a crisis or CRISIS. Thanks you guys. It is because of you that I have yet to either run away or punch someone in the face or both.

I'm going to get through this.

Dear 15-year-old me,

You are fat.

Just kidding. Sort of. Later on, your family and friends will tell you that you went through a "chubby" phase. Subsequently, you will get a lot of comments along the lines of, "Wow! You've lost weight!" or, "You're skinny now!" Uh...thanks?

This will come as a surprise. No biggie. I'm glad you don't think you're fat. Cause you're not. 

You are pretty. 

Don't act so shocked. Attention from guys will come later, and I know you think you're safe in that baggy black sweatshirt, but it's okay to feel attractive. Dressing in an appealing way is not a betrayal of your identity. Attention is not always a bad thing. You don't have to hide.

Homeschooling is a terrible idea.

You will never get the "normal high school experience." And let's face it, you're not disciplined enough to homeschool yourself. You are, however, extremely stubborn.

Homeschooling is an awesome idea.

Going from Beijing-->World travel-->North Carolina will be one of the toughest transitions of your life. You won't feel like you fit in. At all. You will probably always be ambivalent about NC as a whole. You will probably always feel at least a little bit like an outsider. But, the 6-month period you spend in Beijing your junior year of high school will change your life--an oasis in the desert of adolescence. You will learn how to edit. You will spend the first of many late, lonely nights cutting video. You will love it. God help us all.

You are not a burden.

I don't even know how to begin to convey this to you. You are very independent, and that can be a good thing, but that personality trait is being twisted into something else--something that's not good. You are not on your own. It may feel like that, like you need to be entirely self-sufficient now that your parents are divorced, but that's not the case. Retreating into yourself so as not to impose on anyone is not the way to go. It will only leave you isolated.

You are hurting.

I'm sorry.

You are OK. 

I could tell you all about the messed up way you relate to your family, or how you're judgmental, self-righteous, bitter, and perfectionistic--how you hurt the people you love the most in the most cutting ways possible. But you know what, they forgive you later. You even forgive you. You are OK.

And you know what--I still think "The Outsiders" is a great movie.

Stay gold, kid. 

Sincerely,

Me

Inspiration: http://jezebel.com/5951005/would-your-15+year+old-self-listen-to-you

The Burden of Secrecy

So I've gotten some feedback on the "burden of intention" and I feel the need to clarify. I'm talking primarily about unwanted attention. This is not a case of I wish the guy would make the first move or why won't he ask me out, but of OH-CRAP-I-THINK-HE-LIKES-ME-MUST-AVOID-ALL-INTERACTION-OR-I'LL-BE-ACCUSED-OF-LEADING-HIM-ON-WHICH-WOULD-MAKE-ME-A-BAD-BAD-PERSON.

Let's move on, shall we.

The Burden of Secrecy

This one is hard to write about, as I don't fully understand it myself. I look back on instances when I've willingly shouldered this burden and it doesn't make a whole lot of sense. Why?

Of course, women are not the only ones expected to bear this particular burden. Take the victims in the Jerry Sandusky case, for instance. For whatever sick reason, children are often held to secrecy too. The powerless are expected to protect the powerful, the victims their victimizers. For another distressing example, you can go here.

So why don't I--me, personally--speak up about inappropriate male behavior? Why do I tend to keep someone else's "shame" a secret?

Well, for one, silence and secrecy might be a burden, but I think we all realize that speaking up carries its own price. In fact, this corollary could apply anytime an individual speaks out against injustice or wrongdoing. The more powerful the institution or individual, the higher the price to pay. If I speak up, I know that my conduct, character, dress, and body could be scrutinized as well.

I can think of one specific example where I kept silent, partly out of a strong (but misguided?) sense of self-sufficiency. I asked myself, can I handle this on my own? And the answer was yes. So I did. But it goes deeper than that. I wanted to spare him (my harasser) shame and embarrassment. I was concerned not only for his feelings, but for his reputation.

Which leads me to this question: How was it that I was able to internalize a borderline harasser's potential shame to the point of keeping quiet, but he was unable to--for even a second--empathize with the discomfort he caused me with his unwanted and inappropriate verbal and physical advances?

Is this the way we socialize good girls and good boys? We teach the girls to feel for others. To desire to be desired above all else. To keep the peace, and for goodness' sake, if you don't have anything nice to say--

We teach the boys that empathy is for girls and that their [the boys'] desires are always legitimate. It's only harassment if he's ugly. No, it's harassment if it's unwanted. It's harassment if you tell someone to stop and they persist anyway.

I have a new standard now, for speaking up. I ask myself, if this happened to someone else, some other girl, would I be angry? If it were my friend, my sister, would I want this to happen to her? I can't think of a question that has the potential to make me feel more enraged, more protective.

And I was wrong, by the way, about his shame and about mine. He felt none. I felt all.

Shame, Expectations and Unnecessary Suffering

I was on the verge of tears--not at sad news though. At happy news, good news, welcome news. These, however, were not happy tears, I'm dismayed to report. These were more like tears of frustration--frustration over unnecessary suffering.

I'm sure none of you were ever like this, but as a child, I was fully capable of making myself unhappy--of denying myself good things like forgiveness, hugs, even pastry, because I was determined to be miserable, no matter what. There's a pride of grief, of unhappiness, of cutting off your nose to spite your face, because it's MY nose dammit, and I'll do what I please with it. Let the noseless rejoice in their sweet, if unsavory, suffering. 

Of course as an adult, my suffering is much more refined now, if still as unnecessary as ever. For one, there's procrastination, which many agree is a fine, even dignified form of suffering. You suffer, you suffer, you get the work done--and then the suffering ends, and you're left with nothing but emptiness where the suffering once was. 

Then there's the suffering of extremes, the rushing from one pole to the other in a frenzy of self-abnegation. Pick a personal fault, any fault. Perhaps you are prideful, insensitive, egotistical--sometimes. Generalize this fault into an all-encompassing final word on the nature of your basic character. You are arrogance itself. Criminally insensitive to other people. You are flawed to the core, and somehow, it feels so right to be so wrong. Tears. Abasement before God and perhaps other people. It all makes sense now. And this suffering will save you from yourself. 

And let's not forget the suffering of standards and expectations, your own and others', that you will never be able to live up to. Ever. The kind of things where you fail before you even start. Where you can never make him or her happy, no matter how hard you try. And even if you make that grade, get into that school, land that job, they will never be proud of you. And even if they were, it still wouldn't be enough. The kind of standards where you're tempted to say, screw it. Forget it. I won't even try. But even then, the bitterness rises up inside of you. And you suffer. 

And what about the suffering of miscommunication. Missed communication. Message not received. This one, perhaps, eats me up most of all. You spoke, but I was not listening. But I heard you say--But you never said--And I never bothered to ask--Because to ask, for clarification, for reassurance, for love, is to admit vulnerability. To admit that I need you. That I need. All that I wanted was there for the taking. I had only to ask. But I did not ask because I did not want you to know how much I wanted to ask. I would not risk even that one moment of vulnerability, because I would rather you see me as self-contained and complete, needing nothing, no one. 

Which brings me to the suffering of self-sufficiency. Some people, and I don't admit to knowing anyone like this, would much rather suffer than ask for help. Would much rather risk isolation than rejection. Let's be real here. There are certain types of martyrdom that are very highly regarded in our society, the most socially accepted of them all probably being martyrdom for your job, your career, your art. My art is my life, you say. Nonsense. You are not a paintbrush. Your life is your life. No one, not even God, is asking you to suffer for art. 

That's the problem with suffering though. It can feel so good. So noble. Soul-cleansing even. It's like eating vegetables--this tastes so bad it must be good for me. 

But is it necessary?




Sources of inspiration:

http://peterrollins.net/?p=3739
The story of Hannah as heard at http://www.churchinhollywood.com/#/sundays/podcasts

Life. And stuff.

I want to write about how much I like my new job, but I'm not sure if I can. So instead, a story:

When I was 16, I went to visit my dad in Beijing. A visit meant to last one month somehow stretched into six. For reasons I don't fully remember, comprehend, or wish to think about, I didn't want to go back to North Carolina.

I applied for an internship with a humanitarian organization in Beijing. As part of my application, I sent in an essay I had written for school entitled "Sexism in Paradise Lost" (It started early, folks). Somehow, I got the internship and started translating articles from English to Chinese.

This humanitarian organization also happened to have a media department. Cue life-changing event: I learned how to edit video using Final Cut Pro.

I started editing a camp video. I had dreams about cuts. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I was hooked. For the first time in my life, I was truly passionate about something.

I remember editing late, late at night in the empty office. I remember how I felt going in after a weekend away, the mixture of trepidation and elation as I pushed in the door--would they be happy to see me? Would I still feel at home? Did they think I was a nuisance? I remember the huge crush I had on a guy who worked there. He was at least 14 years older than me, and I tried really hard not to have a crush on him, so of course I did anyway. But most especially, I remember Ivy, the director of the media department, and how her enthusiasm, kindness, and dedication to teaching made me feel.

Interning there changed my life. And ever since then, I've wanted to be that same kind of person for someone else.

Because I know that if it weren't for the people who have mentored me and encouraged me, I wouldn't be pursuing filmmaking. I would have given up before even starting.

Maybe this helps explain how strongly I feel about church, production, and mentorship.

I feel very, very grateful, because I know the real world so very rarely bears any resemblance to the experience I had when I was 16.

I've mentioned this to some of my friends, but there have been times and places and people that have made me feel like some of my strongest character traits are a liability. I'm independent to a fault. I'm passionate and a bit obsessive when I really care about something. I'm extremely focused and driven. And sometimes that hasn't gone over well, and I've paid the price for falling outside of the gender norm or otherwise stepping on people's toes (egos).

None of this is true in my current job. I can be independent, driven, and a little bit obsessive, and it's not only okay, it's encouraged (not that I have nothing to learn about being more interdependent and sensitive to other people).

I can breathe. And for that, I am extremely grateful.

How to Make Me Happy

In Anna Karenina, Tolstoy famously wrote that "Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."

My happiness depends more than I would like to admit on external factors that I usually have very little control over. Which is to say, all the environments I've been happy in tend to share certain characteristics.

The title actually doesn't make sense, of course, as no one can actually make me happy. But, you know what I mean. If someone needed a user's guide to me, it might include some of the following points. 99% of the time, I am super easy to please. Really. And now for a few items:

1. Food.

This one should go without saying. Food is important. I like it. I may not be particularly great at feeding myself, but I am really great at exploiting--I mean, finding--events with free food. I am all over that.

My sister is really good at feeding people. Seriously. She owns her own dumpling truck, and you should check it out. I always eat well when she's around.

2. Junk food.

Junk food goes into its own special category. I like it. Particularly if it's free. I'm the only one in my family who still thinks junk food is cool. The rest of the lot have all embraced something scary called "healthy eating"--and yet my brother still steals my skittles. Who's the hypocrite here, hmm?

3. Freedom to work independently.

I'm crazy independent. I like figuring things out on my own, but I also want to be able to ask questions. Sometimes, I just do stuff. I can't help it! It's the way I am.

4. People.

People make me happy. I like being around them and bugging them. You know how you just like people sometimes for no reason? You see them and you just want to smile.

5. Writing (and the freedom to write whatever I want to write).

If I'm not writing, something is wrong. Or I'm just being lazy. Or I'm afraid that people are actually reading what I write. It's complicated--but the freedom to write the truth the best that I know how feels a bit like God's intention for my life.

6. Talking through ideas.

If I couldn't do this, I think I would die.

7. People making fun of me (teasing me?).

I'm not sure why I love this, but I do. I myself can't pull it off without sounding like a jerk.

8. Learning new things.

9. Good writing.

10. Sleep deprivation. Stress. Challenging circumstances. Being on set. Filmmaking.

11. Teaching/training

I used to work as a master control operator at a small TV station and I was so excited to get to train new employees (three people, singly, to be exact) to do the job. My favorite part had been the training, and so I was looking forward to training other people. There's something about seeing someone put into practice something you've taught them. There's definitely a sense of pride.

Why I frighten Men

Apparently, I'm an intimidating person. Don't take my word for it, ask my friends. I'll complain about dating or talk about some guy, or--I don't know--something, and they'll say, "Well, maybe he's intimidated."

Definition of "intimidate" from Merriam-Webster: "to make timid or fearful : frighten; especially : to compel or deter by or as if by threats."

I never know to respond to this. I usually feel a measure of incredulity. Me? Intimidating? How exactly am I intimidating?

This is not an isolated phenomenon. I've talked to a couple friends recently who've gotten the same label.

Maybe this "intimidating" bit is just something your friends say to you to make you feel better about yourself, along the lines of, "Don't worry, you'll find the right guy" or "You deserve better, girlfriend!" 

I wish this was like some kind of super power that I could use on creepy guys: "You don't know this, but there are guys who find me INTIMIDATING" (their heads explode). 

But seriously.

I'm not loud. I don't have a big personality. I don't carry a large cudgel on my person at all times. I hate confrontation and conflict.

Also, how can someone be considered both quiet, shy, and intimidating? It boggles the mind. 

I do, however, have a few ideas about this: 

1. I'm smart

"A woman, especially if she have the misfortune of knowing any thing, should conceal it as well as she can."
-Jane Austen

There's no way to talk about how smart you are (or how smart other people think you are) without coming off like a complete douchebag. So, I'll just point out that this is other people's perception of me. I've been told that I'm intimidating (to guys) because I'm smart, or more specifically smarter than they are. 

Again, I have no real response to this. I'm sorry? I'll try it tone down a little bit so you don't feel so threatened.

Apparently, I'd forgotten that this is the 1950s when men want a woman who's smart, but not so smart that she's smarter than they are.

2. I'm opinionated.

"I myself have never been able to find out precisely what feminism is: I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a door mat or a prostitute."

-Rebecca West

I have opinions. I voice them. So far, so good. I suppose this could be intimidating, or just annoying, depending on the circumstances. And yes, people do call me a feminist, especially when I draw attention to the fact that men and women are sometimes treated differently. I don't see this as a polemical act per se, but I'm sure there are many people who would feel differently. 

3. I'm independent.

"A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction."

-Virginia Woolf

I suspect I might care a little bit less than the average person about pleasing others and/or fitting in. This is not always a good thing.

4. I don't wear my heart on my sleeve.

"If we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel's heart beat, and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence."

-George Eliot

I'm not sure how to put this one. It's not that I don't have emotions, it's that I can be emotionally illiterate. I have an emotional learning disability? Women are traditionally the emotional leaders of the family or relationship. I don't fit that. 

It's more than that though--I'm hard on other people and I'm hard on myself. It's more than easy for me to criticize, critique, satirize, or just generally take the piss in any given situation.

5. Wild card. 

"For there is a spot the size of a shilling at the back of the head which one can never see for one's self."

-Virginia Woolf

Kate Holbrook: I'm sorry, I'm a little overly thorough. Some people would say that I am bossy and controlling.

Rob: No, that's just prejudice. They call you bossy and controlling because you're a woman. But if you were a man doing the same stuff...you'd just be a dick. 

-from Baby Momma

I don't really know how I come off to other people. I can only guess based on the feedback I receive. I'm flawed. I have blind spots. Maybe I'll never know what "intimidating" really means. Maybe I'm just an a-hole.

But somehow I suspect that the things that make me intimidating are also some of my best qualities. And if being considered threatening is the byproduct--let it be.