The Tea Pot is Whistling

 
I've spent most of my life as a talker. Lately, I've become an observer. Learning to reign in my words has been a good thing but the problem with observing is that, eventually, I talk about all the things I see. And when I do decide to talk it all comes spewing, no filter, almost a rant, a definite emotional release but possibly off putting to some. Like the teapot ready to pour I'm letting off steam. I am an open book and if you don't like the story feel free to turn the page or set me back on the bookshelf.

Here I go. Unfiltered and with topics all over the place because that's the way my brain works.

Gender issues and stupidity.  Decades ago, the 1970s in fact, my father's secretary welcomed a much anticipated grandchild and everyone was so excited to welcome this beautiful baby into the world. When well wishers asked if they should buy baby blue or sweet pink the new parents had no answers. The precious child had ambiguous genitalia. Testing confirmed that the child had ovaries and undescended testicles. The course of treatment at the time was to immediately amputate the penis, perform a series of reconstructive surgeries, give the baby female hormones and raise her as a girl. All these years later I still wonder about this child who would now be 40 years old. Times have changed and the experts now advise waiting until the child is able to give voice to their gender.

It is beyond my comprehension to understand why anyone thinks gender issues are new issues. And if anyone thinks gender reassignment is a choice then they are wrong. It's a miracle that any of us arrive into the world with all of our parts working. We readily accept and embrace the child born without a limb, without sight or hearing or without a working heart. So why do we have to spend an inordinate amount of time trying to convince people that gender issues are real?

Mean girls, mean women and what's really going on. Like most women who reach 54 years of age I've had my share of run ins with mean girls. I watch my young adult daughter navigate the waves of mean girls in her own life. I'm pretty quick to strike mean women from my list of friends but the hurt that they cause sticks around much longer than I'd like. Time puts things into perspective. The raw wounds heal but the scars are still tender. So, what is really going on? I'm not a mean girl by nature but I know that the times I have been, well, let's just say not so nice, there were deeper issues going on internally. Insecurity, jealousy, stress...they all play a part in how we react to others. How we were raised and emotional blockages that we are aware of and unaware of contribute as well. Take a step back and take a long look at the real person and not the mean girl facade. You still may not want that person in your life but it certainly helps to understand the whys of their behavior.

We are rarely what we seem to be. I have been blessed to experience many stations in life. I've lived in North Dallas, and for those that are unfamiliar with that particular portion of Texas, it is generally wealthy with a predominantly poor neighborhood sitting on its western border and Ross Perot's neighborhood sitting to the east. I've had the 4 bedroom house with a big yard and pool and I've lived in apartments. I've lived in Texas and now live in California. I've had money to burn and no money at all.

My children attended private school and public school and I have served as a volunteer at both. I grew up in the Memorial area of Houston. It's wealthy and privileged although my own family lived in a modest ranch style house and we never had an excess of money.

I have spent volunteer time in the trenches with crack addicts and alcoholics and the homeless. I have spent volunteer time with wealthy women who plan fundraisers and galas. I prefer the crack addicts.

I believe that marijuana should be legalized and that by doing so we solve a multitude of other problems. I believe in marriage equality. My heart breaks over abortion. I understand why women and young girls have abortions. I knew after my second child was born that a third pregnancy would be life threatening for me. I practiced birth control even though I was Catholic at the time. I knew that if I ever did end up pregnant again I would not have had an abortion. I can't explain that and I shouldn't have to. It's my belief and I own it. For the women I know who have had abortions I understand that it was after much soul searching and that the physical scars pale in comparison to the emotional scars. I have zero judgment in my heart. My feelings on abortion are a mishmash of emotion and contradictions and that's okay. I don't need to have an answer for everything.

Why am I telling you all of this? Because, from what I see, we are forgetting that life is a muddy gray much more often than it is stark black and white. Because what you see is rarely what you get in this world. I am a middle aged woman with a passionate mix of moderately conservative and wildly progressive ideas about my own life and the world. Yes, that is possible. No, it is not contradictory. It is me.

The Internet is only as wise as the people uploading content. Just because someone "tweeted" it or posted it on Facebook or Instagrammed it or wrote it on an obscure blog or a wildly popular website doesn't make it factual and doesn't make it worthy of reposting anywhere. When did so many people become lemmings? When did so many people stop fact checking? Facebook, sometimes I dislike you because I used to think everyone I knew was smart. Now we are all open books and the content can be quite scary. I'm sure there are plenty out there who closed the book on this blog before they even got this far.

Questioning is good. I raised my children to have open minds and open hearts.  I raised them to question the status quo. They are grown but I still challenge them to question those who think that their way is the only way, that political issues are black and white and that science has no place in religion.

In past blog posts I have commented on but never wholeheartedly lamented the lack of religious upbringing in my own life. Since my family was not deeply religious it gave me the power to make my own spiritual decisions and find my own way. God has always been in my heart. I have never questioned that. I just wish more people actually lived a Christ like life instead of spouting Bible verses out of context. I will always question people who use religion as a tool for hate and I hope my children always do the same.

The tea is poured. Lately, I write in fits and starts and without the routine that I used to pride myself on. (I also let myself end a sentence with a preposition and don't give a flip what the grammarians think.) Life changes have happened much more rapidly lately and I've given myself permission to find my own daily rhythm. I hope the stretch between writing is not so long next time. We'll see. Make it a great day. Pay forward some good.