A Very German Thanksgiving

The presidential election has had some notable consequences this year. Namely, that we did not attend the traditional family Thanksgiving due to my inability to avoid the subject of politics with my Republican relatives.

Normally, I would be able to rein my political sentiments in, but in light of the fact that I had tried reaching out to said family members the day after the election only to be rebuffed with reasons of ruining their vacations by speaking of it, I felt particularly convicted that a conversation would have to take place on Thanksgiving.

Why? I voted for neither big party candidate, so it wasn't because my girl lost. It was because of all the suffering and fear I was experiencing in the folks around me who had been targeted by Mr. Trump's rhetoric. And I needed to understand what motivated my own flesh and blood to cast their voice in support of such a person.

Was I worked up? You bet. Was I wanting to work towards a resolution? Yep. But it appeared that only half the Trump voters in the family were interested in communicating around it.

So I had to clarify. I sent out a text.

"Just to be clear, I don't think I can show up at Thanksgiving without talking about the election unless I can have a conversation about the election with you all before hand. If that isn't appealing, we are happy to cancel and spend the day with friends."

The non-speaking half of Trump's supporters were happy to have us cancel.

And THAT is how we came to spend Thanksgiving with our European friends. In fact, and perhaps, ironically, I was the only full blood American in the group. Which, seemed to be in keeping with how the history of the real Native Americans and the Europeans unfolded. So that was very thematically accurate of us.

Espen and his friend Stella were in fine form. Stella is 5 and Espen is 3 and a half and Stella can climb anything that doesn't move. By the halfway point  in the festivities, both Espen and Stella came racing into the kitchen nude, grabbed the door frame and scuttled up to the ceiling, screaming like howler monkeys.

Then they dashed back upstairs
to the bathroom where they resumed cackling madly in a bathtub full of toys.

Meanwhile the adult Germans, the Dane and I reveled on.

Surrounded by the flashing bodies of nude kids, turkey, music and delicious wine, we whiled away the hours until we had finished several rounds of dinner, first and second deserts and a couple bottles of red. We all agreed on politics, debated the electoral college briefly and got back to making merry. It was, as they say, a seamless affair.

Especially for Espen and Stella since they were nude most of the day.

And while I was sad that my family would rather be apart than discuss important issues for our country, I was delighted to experience the easy camaraderie between folks that do not share native languages or cultures.

I know there is a lesson in this about expectations of family being higher and the generosity of friends, but

I am truly grateful for the opportunity to have spent the day with an open heart. I hope my family did too. Maybe next year, we'll have it together.

We broke the US, kid

No doubt this last week will go down as one of the most surreal times in recent memory. For the first time in its history, America elected a president who not only ad-libbed his way to the Presidency, but exploited the suffering of millions of Americans to fuel his bid for the White House with unprecedented disregard for basic human decency. And I'm not talking about the Muslims, women, LGTBQ community, disabled, and veterans.

I'm talking about the Trump voters who thought life had gotten so unbearable that they were willing to overlook the complete lack of basic respect for human dignity regardless of race, gender, physicality and religion that epitomized Mr. Trump's campaign. I'm talking about the people who felt like being accused of criminal behavior was far worse than someone who openly mocked people different than him and incited his supporters to violence.

People don't vote for an overgrown toddler with hair trigger impulse control and no filter unless they are in a lot of discomfort.  But elect him they did and with their vote, they pulled the rest of the country along with them into their tailspin of existential anguish.

Now, I was no fan of either Trump or Hillary, so I voted third party (Green) because I live in a solidly blue state and had the luxury of voting my conscience. But had I lived in a swing state, you bet I would have voted for Hilary because she had the ability to maintain composure and decency even in the face of an opponent who was sexist, juvenile and showing up at national debates and campaign rallies woefully unprepared. AND she was convicted of Nothing.

Mr. Trump had a choice to acknowledge people's suffering and elevate their consciousness by offering solutions that respected all Americans. Instead he chose to inflate their fears and provide easily identifiable targets to pin their disappointments and failings to.

I said early in Bernie Sander's rise to popularity, that it would be a tricky situation if he didn't win the Democratic nomination. All that emotion had to go somewhere, but it wouldn't go to Hillary.

So on the one hand, it was inevitable for Trump to win because the DNC refused to acknowledge both the level of suffering and disenfranchisement of a large part of the voting public and how far they were willing to go to alleviate that discomfort.

Even if it meant switching horses in mid-stride to vote for the only Dark Horse left in the race. The only pill that they weren't TOTALLY sure would be the same kind of bitter as Hillary Clinton.

That's a hell of a wager to make, especially if you're a member of one of his scapegoat groups. Like women. Or people of color.

But it was one many of them were willing to make.

Even people I had thought were made of clearer ethics than my own, chose to vote for Trump. Members of my own family decided it was excusable to act without respect and decency, which I am still considering how to respond around.

It is perhaps one of the most disappointing experiences of my life, knowing that good people were willing to overlook such glaring flaws in a potential leader, even if they were manipulated by conservative media, overzealous peers, or naive ignorance. All you had to do was LISTEN to him and ask yourself, "Would I talk like that to my mother? To my good friend? Hell, to a stranger?"

And the answer would have to be that America didn't care about that enough to keep Donald Trump out of the White House.

In fact, only about 58% of eligible voters in the US actually VOTED in the election.

Oh, and Hillary Clinton won the popular vote. Donald Trump won the electoral vote.

And the Senate and House have a Republican majority, which means that unless Donald Trump manages to offend and alienate most of Congress, he'll have the opportunity to make some major changes to American Reality.

The big question is, What will he change?

If his campaign is any indication of his inclinations, the environment, minorities, women and NATO better start shoring up their ramparts.

In the meantime, I'm building relationships with people in my community, especially the ones who were targeted by Trump's vitriolic rhetoric. I'm donating money to organizations who support the environment, minorities, refugees and LGBTQs. I'm actively seeking ways to become involved in local government.

And you know, though I would have preferred a peaceful and compassionate evolution of our society, we got the quick and painful reveal of just how deep our divisions and wounds are in this country. We can't look away and pretend that everything is status quo as usual, even if we voted like we wished it were. Granted, if we are white, upper middle class folks, we won't be in trouble regardless of what Trump decides from taxes to bigotry, but we won't be able to get far before realizing that SOMETHING is different in our world.

For that, I am grateful. For that, I have hope that if we continue to stand for the world we wish to see, where people are treated with respect and value, one day it will come about.

But we must stay awake. We must look at what we take for granted that others cannot. We must ask ourselves how much we are willing to invest in a future that is truly fit for our children. We must consider deeply who we are and what gifts we have to offer to this worthy cause of healing and evolution.

Then we must act. And continue to do it for the rest of our lives until all beings receive the dignity and love they deserve.

Ho'oponopono Espen

Dear Espen,

You may not remember this incident when you are older, but I will because I behaved in ways I hoped I never would.

There are several things I want you to know about me that I have tried to keep out of the picture of your childhood. I did this because I wanted you to have a childhood that was as carefree and blissful as it could possibly be. To me, that meant having two parents that were happily in love, healthy and pursuing their paths to become the best version of themselves.

I want to speak to the healthy part. For most of my 20's and 30's I have experienced a variety of symptoms that have left me feeling physically exhausted. Rather like I'm running on empty with the light flashing for the last 40 miles. Because of this, I have unconsciously kept an energy accounting ledger that had enough in it to keep me more or less financially independent and able to live on my own, but precious little else that wasn't directly related to healing or infusing me with hope...like ecstatic dance, reiki, writing, music....but all of that had to stay small. Just a dance here or there. An impromptu song once in awhile-but nothing sustained, because it took too much out of me. I just didn't recognize how much I counted on being able to carve out space to just lie in bed all day if I miscalculated my available energy.

After I had you I realized just how tenuous my balancing act had been. I could hold down a job to pay rent and food but had nothing left over to invest in relationships or pursuing my real dreams. I could dream and live with my parents forever or survive on my own with little glimpses of what my life could look like if only I had the energy to follow those dreams. But I always had the option to retreat from the outside world and my dreams because no one was depending on me.

Having you was so clearly my destiny that I have always known there was something I needed to do and learn despite my physical exhaustion.

One of those lessons has been that I need to do everything in my power to heal from whatever is causing my body and mind to be so fatigued. And I also need to find a way to accept my reality exactly as it is because you never know if things will shift or stay the same.

But the thing is, I have also discovered what some of my deep patterning is. And let me tell you right now, it's the thing I am most ashamed of. I have spent so much time wishing it were not so, but it just makes it that much more regrettable when it gets the best of me.

I speak of my hair-trigger anger. That thing you saw yesterday when I suddenly went from sleepy to raging in the blink of an eye. Almost like there was an invisible line that had been crossed which transformed me from your loving, calm, patient mom into a frustrated, erratic, frighteningly cold monster.

It feels so terribly uncontrollable when I sense the anger welling inside me. I can see it coming like a tsunami and I can't seem to get out of the way. It picks me up and tumbles me around until I, and anyone in its path, are bruised and scared.

And I tried to explain it to you yesterday, how I saw the path unfolding, but it's alot for a little one to work with and that's why I am writing this now-- so you could read it later with more life under your belt.

The progression looked like this:

I am exceptionally exhausted.
I try to advocate for my need. (a 10 minute nap or some such)
I am unable to get my need met. (you want to have someone play with you, which is totally valid)
I get sad because I think I can't take care of myself and consequently, can't take care of you.
I want to fight for my needs so I can be a good parent.
I get angry that I am failing, that my body is failing, that my reality is not what I want it to be.
I lash out at you or anyone else within reach to try and dull the sadness.
It doesn't work and I start an emotional tailspin.

And that's when I make choices from a place of complete reactivity. It's such an undesirable emotional space to be in. Seeing that I am causing damage and yet feeling helpless to stop it.

All of that to say, it is my responsibility to accept this, to work with this and to make amends for the pain it causes the people I love.

I have explored several ideas for what is at the root of this wild emotionality and physical exhaustion. I have worked with Tibetan physicians and yoga to build up my body, naturopaths and therapists to try and pin down a clinical diagnosis that I can address, acupuncturists, shamans, life coaches and intuitive healers. All of that has allowed me to be a reasonable version of myself since having you...but I want to be better. I want to be fully energized and vital so I can run and play with you like you desire.

I am now about to embark on a path of retraining the brain to function on a more relaxed level. My sense is now, that I have been living with a heightened, long-term stress response for most of my life. Essentially, that my brain perceived a trauma long ago and jumped into high alert and never fully came back to baseline.

Without going into all the science behind what chronic, long-term stress can do, let me just summarize by saying that it produces all the symptoms I currently have because it shuts down all non-essential systems in the body...like higher level cognitive function, digestion, immune response and countless others.

This letter is my attempt at making amends for any pain and stress I have caused you because of the lessons I am still learning. I want you to know how deeply sorry I am for this. I want you to know that I am being proactive about mitigating my imbalances because I value the process of self-development and I believe it is possible to remember the light we have inside us more consistently.

Please forgive me for my shortcomings and the harm I have done you through my lack of self awareness and control.

I love you the best I can every day and I will continue to do so throughout eternity. And I love my own soul too, which is why I can write this without defining myself as my mistakes. Mistakes are opportunities to grow and get up again and I will do so as long as I have breath in this body.

Thank you so much for carrying your light and spirit in the world, Espen. You are the clearest individual I have ever known. I am so grateful for your steadfast sweetness and infinite love.

Always,
Little Mama

No Robot? Let Me Pee on the Floor

Espen and I had a magical time at Ecstatic Dance. Most of the time was spent on a giant pile of pillows with a host of other fairy children, pretending to be trains, boats and anything else that would justify scooting around in a line of pillows while adult children fluttered about them pretending to be sexy unicorns and what not.

We then perambulated to the nearest chai shop and toy store. Namely, Finnigan's. Which is also a magical place filled with wonders beyond any 3 year old's wildest dreams. Espen has some pretty good ones, so when we walked in, he immediately requested either amphibious cars or flying cars. Both, preferably.

The toy guys were suitably stumped, but only for a moment.

"Yeah," said one guy who looked like a young, geeky Hagrid, "We had an amphibious vehicle, but now we only have submarines that run in your bathtub and water helicopters."

Espen looked provoked. Once he saw the water helicopters though, he started getting excited.

"Mama!" he said, grabbing my hand and lunging towards the display, "They have biplanes too! Amphibious ones! I want both of them."

I kindly demurred much to his everlasting dismay. He began to bargain.

"Well, mama, how about I have one now and one at home?" Why indeed.

"Listen, Espen, you can either have one helicopter or the submarine."

"Submarine."

"Ok. Let's pay for it."

All was well until I turned my back to hand over the credit card.

And he saw the robot.

Really, it was more like some possessed remote control car that could had wheels on every imaginable surface so you could flip it over, on its side, make it spin somersaults or pretend it was a merry go round from the simple toggle of a switch.

It's an oddly beautiful and horrifying thing to watch your child realize that there is shit in the world that you have not told him about that is BLOODY AMAZING.

Espen looked at me long and hard. Then he looked at the possessed car thing and squealed.

"Mama! I WANT THAT ROBOT CAR SO BADLY!"

And he meant it too. I could feel it in every fibre of the kid's soul.
And you know, I wanted to give it to him.
But not yet.

I still want him to get lost in a mud puddle instead of an ipad. To be fascinated by a bunch of rocks because he doesn't have anything more flashy to grab his attention. There will be plenty of time for him to marvel at the technology of the 21st century, but for now, I want to keep his immediate possessions firmly rooted in the natural world.

Soapbox aside, I said no. And led him to a different part of the store after he had a turn at the controls.

We stood in the corner by the die cast cars and ambulances, and for a moment, peace reigned.

Until he had to try just one more time.

"Mommy. Can't I PLEASE have that robot?"

"Sorry, Wesp. Not now. When you get older."

He stood there looking at me, silently.

I looked back. And then down at the pool forming at my feet.

And I became a robot.

Pee.
Floor.
Wesp.
People.
Do something.
Pick up child.
Hold child tightly against body to stop pee.
Walk calmly but quickly from store.
Do NOT look back.

And that, folks, is the human stress response in 10 seconds flat.

Espen wanted his submarine.

There was no way in hell I could process that kind of benevolence whilst covered in pee and fleeing the scene of public urination.

"No way are you getting that submarine when you just peed all over the store."

He screamed like I had ripped his liver out and dropped to the pavement, writhing in fury.

So half walking, half dragging my furious pee soaked child towards the car, I tried to get my higher level cognition back online.

"Why did you pee on the floor, Espen? You didn't even give me a chance to find a place for you to potty!"

"I want my submariiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnneeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!"

Sigh.

I understand now, weeks later, that excitement over robots can trump the evacuation impulse in 3 year olds. But then, I didn't. Then I was just a blindsided mom covered in pee trying to regain perspective.

But now, I am happy to report that Espen has a submarine and I have only been peed on twice since then.

To be continued.