Thoughts on Masha

Hello Blogging Universe! Sometimes you feel so vast and sometimes you feel so small. I never know if I am talking into a tin can or a megaphone. I did read a fairly informative article about whether or not one should ever even start a blog.  Without getting into it, I apparently fall into the “I am going to write anyways category” so why not?

I did not jump into this with grandiose illusions of abundant monetization, and I’m not really an “expert” on anything. I certainly haven’t narrowed my niche because I revert back to the “I am not an expert on anything” statement. Whether or not I have something unique to offer to the blogosphere is largely debatable but I am a damn fool dreamer that believes we all have something unique to offer any sphere by unique design.

I also have a solid understanding of a few blogging mistakes I’ve been making. Crooked mouth pose: Ha hum. See not narrowing down my niche and occasionally getting sucked into hyperbole which I used to feel was a divine storytelling attribute of the aged. I may just have to admit that as a pre-menapausal  woman I am pushing it. I have another theory though. Is it useless hyperbole really or perhaps ADD, or the autistic spectrum? Call me crazy but I always felt like the Autistic Spectrum should be some form of literary theory. Like seriously, I read Pilgrim at Tinker Creek once and the details were astoundingly one hundred percent overstimulating. Even Annie Dillard said that nature could be so intense sometimes it made her want to scream (not that I am implying Annie Dillard was on the spectrum).

Sometimes I feel so overstimulated that even I want to scream. My husband laughs at me every time we go into Costco because I have to touch soft things. I touched a plush rug at Costco and put my cheek to it and he pulled me away. I literally walk around the store feeling the inside of coats and bath robes wrapped around cardboard. I  get especially giddy when the bamboo sheet people come. I am kind of like Lenny from Of Mice and Men. 

If my heels are dry and scratch my sheets I almost lose it. I hate how chalk feels. I was told once that this was not crazy. I was just a “sensuous woman.” So yeah, I am going to go with that. See also my thoughts about literary theory. Did Steinbeck create a character with Autism?

I sometimes get an overwhelming surge of ideas that if I could pursue them all I’d be a stable genius. Only I can’t pursue a single one of them because I can’t hone in on one without  getting too distracted by the others so therefore I am not a stable genius. When I go out in public, I seriously have to come home and decompress.

This has been an overwhelming week. First of all, I spent a night with my husband in the ER. Without getting into that, let’s just say, neurological pain sucks. I feel for anyone who suffers from it. One of the biggest misconceptions about back pain is that it is all in the back. Nope, it can radiate into the legs and feet and  make a person fall down and not get back up. Trust me, we had an inopportune moment once where my husband’s neuropathic nonsense hit him at some gift shop right in front of a bunch of  fragile knick-knacks. His leg went completely numb and gave out. You break it you buy.

I occasionally have to document my son’s neurological issues, but this week I documented another event. My son’s hand was in full on shake mode when he tried to raise a glass of chocolate milk to his mouth. Steady when he put the glass down, full on uncontrollable shaking when he lifted that glass back up to his face again. I’m also teaching him to drive, which I can clearly see…we have a lot of ground to cover.

Damn, if that boy does not want an electric guitar for Christmas though and he could be an excellent musician if only he could get both hands to cooperate at the same time when he lays his fingers out on the keyboard. He keeps trying though, God bless him. High school has also been brutal for him, and today my daughter and her musician boyfriend took him out for a treat and to Gray Whale music.  I read an article once that said having your children learn music may be the biggest parenting win you can make. I can’t take credit though, my son’s interest falls with his sister who has always had a thing for musicians.

This is where I fall into the rabbit hole of parenting wins and parenting fails. How many do I have stacked on either side? I was a single mom for ten years so that automatically seems to qualify me for being on the losing end of mother of the year. I am learning to come to terms with myself, my past, my present, and all the baggage.

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I was reminded though of something a friend said to me about our mistakes and how our mistakes can become our mission, so there is that.

I won’t unpack anymore here, but let’s just say my motherhood worries and spouse worries have brought my worst enemies back onto the scene. Hello debilitating negative self talk, and insomnia my old friend.

Fast forward to last night, best night of sleep I’ve had in a long time. Strangely I attribute this somehow to how  impeachment hearings played out on Friday. Not particularly a good day for the President, but it was the best day I’d had in a long time.

Now, I have no intention of taking everyone down that yellow brick road that leads to the man behind the curtain saying, “I am Oz the great and powerful.” I do want to say a  few things about Marie Yovanovitch the meek and powerful though. The woman otherwise known as Masha.

person holding red and yellow fruit
Photo by Alan Cabello on Pexels.com

Now, A LOT of things have been said since Friday, and I tell you I went down a few loopdie-Lous myself. Some, I am not overly proud of. I had to fight the overwhelming urge not to gloat for once. I laughed at a few things and later felt guilty about them. For starters, Esquire posted an article about Yovanovitch getting a standing ovation that started with a mention of those applauding who had not arrived on the “turnip truck” and ended with some comment about a “vulgar, talking yam.” Kudos to that writer by the way.

I also saw a different reference made to “gym Jordan” which was so inappropriately appropriate. It felt okay to have a chuckle in the moment, but later it did not. I also laughed hysterically at a picture a friend sent  to me of tweetie bird saying, “Let him tweet, let him tweet, tweet tweet tweet.”

Than I thought of the day President Nixon died and how people actually had some nice things to say about him. In essence it was, “he taught us something” and “not all this defined his legacy.” I also thought about my friend Jennifer and how she brought me cupcakes the day I found out Trump was sending troops to Saudi Arabia.

I knew that whatever was a good day for me on Friday, would be a very bad day for Jennifer as a staunch conservative, and than I remembered how much she likes my pumpkin chocolate chip cookies.

I also remember the day when President Trump was elected, my husband brought me daisies, but secretly I knew my husband was rooting for Trump even though he is vehemently stubborn about not engaging himself in any political process. We are still married.

I pondered how Yovanovitch could not have taken the fall for any war in Somalia any more than “Gym Jordan” could take the fall for over a hundred boys being violated by a sexual predator under his watch as an assistant wrestling coach. I am not trying to make a saint out of anyone though. What I felt was so compelling about Yovanovitch’s hearing, was something that I think was almost missed. She was able to garner sympathy from both sides of the divide because she had a story, that was relative to the human condition.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve had two former co-workers throw me under the bus. In fact, what went down with two of my former employers felt like a devastating break up that took a calamitous toll. One is a story of narcissism and the other also a semi-sociopathic story about narcissism. The story was that I quit, when quite frankly I was forced out. I had one employer call me once apologizing and asking me to come back to a job I left, because they had realized after many more casualties that the problem was never me. I was surprised I got that. Most people never do.

Wah! Wah! WAh! Nobody wants to hear this but these stories are not uncommon. We’ve probably all dealt with some form of narcissism in our lives because narcissism runs rampant in our society and according to psychology, a significant chunk of the human population lies somewhere on the narcissistic spectrum. Sadly, psychologists say it can’t really be fixed, narcissists have an uncanny knack for acquiring blind followers because they are so charming, and the best way to win with a narcissist is not to engage which means they still win. You’ve removed  yourself from the situation, but they have come out on top. Does this sound familiar to anybody?

Now, I am not a psychologist, but I’ve dealt with my share of narcissists. I’ve currently dealt with a first and second generation duo who have made my life none too sweet as of late, but really I made my own mayhem because I gave them my power. The more attention I gave to to my adversaries, the larger they became at the expense of everything else, even those things that were most precious to me. Hence, see my previous comments about some of my mom fails.

This is also what Trump came to represent for me over the past few years. The ever present hot air balloon looming over my life. That hovering nemesis. A representation of all the vile forces that had “been getting away with everything.” The conniving forces that had turned others I loved and perceived to be my compadres into clay in their own schematics.

So Friday was a good day for me, but I ask myself, what if the next hearing or the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that day are not? I’ve still got to be okay myself with all the external forces. I’ve got to be dependent on my own peace that is not fed to me by outside influences or what is happening with my perceived adversaries.

Now I completely got lost in hyperbole again. I know what a smear campaign feels like. It seems like we all do to some degree unless we have been fortunate enough to ever dodge that bullet. When you think about it everyone from all sides of this had been involved in some type of smear campaign. Nobody’s hands are clean on either side. I  can even be accused of participating in one right now. What I learned  from observing Yovanovitch however, is that she brought something of the universal human condition to a divided audience.  Did anybody really “win” the narrative of the day or  was I missing the larger picture that she put a dent in a barrier between two opposing sides?

There have been portions of the impeachment inquiry where things felt so heated, like a table could overturn, and the room could erupt into a riot at any minute. I also caught glimpses once or twice of both parties erupting into chuckles over a few of the same jokes. I also realized that joking about anyone’s mental state should be no laughing matter. Who is the bully here?  What are we drinking and as Stephen Colbert said once, “is it too much?” It should never feel so good to see anybody going into a tailspin or a downward spiral, not even our own perceived adversary.

I thought of President Lincoln, and how after a bloody Civil War he chose diplomacy. What do these diplomats on display have to teach us? Yes, certain actions may be deemed necessary, but they are not to be celebrated. Perhaps I need to have a little more empathy for the lives of those catapulting out of control. They have loved ones, and when I condemn Trump, perhaps I should think about his son who was fighting sleep on the night of his inauguration, who never asked for any of this. When I see comments of Schiff perhaps over reaching with witness intimidation I have to wonder how many death threats he is getting.

At the OJ Simpson trial, OJ’s mother and Nicole Brown Simpson’s mother hugged afterward. I must remember that. The winner isn’t always a side, it’s a basic yet powerful human commonality. This is what I learned from watching the fragile steel that was Masha. I also have to wonder if it was my perception of this which helped me sleep better last night, because maybe I was deceived when I thought it was because for one day my side was gaining.

Anyway, these are my thoughts I haphazardly send out into the void on a Saturday night and cautiously wonder if they were too polarizing. This was not my intention but as I mentioned earlier, I write mostly for me and appreciate anyone else who cares to give a listen. God Bless you.

Rachelle Whiting

 

 

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