It's a new year!

Some years ago, I started a practice of choosing a theme for each year -- one word I could start with and return to throughout the year. Some past themes included Kindness and Joy, for example. I find that a theme works better than a list of resolutions, which typically end up being a bunch of rules I use to beat myself up when I fall short. It's an extension of having principles vs rules in our home.

This past year's theme was self-care, and I really did will with it -- I resolved some health questions, made a point of being kind to myself more often, set some boundaries in relationships with loved ones, found a therapist, and made some changes in my life. It was a good year. I'm keeping up with the self-care, as I do with all past themes, the idea being to make lifelong improvements.

I start my new years on my birthday. After all, these are my years. Why use someone else's calendar? That means I've been at this year's theme for almost 6 weeks now. I don't choose the theme as much as it chooses me. I write down words and ideas, starting in September, to narrow down a choice by Oct 26. Most years, when the first word comes to me, I dismiss it, thinking it somehow wrong, before I end up settling on it as a theme. It's an intuitive - or maybe counterintuitive - process. 

This year's theme is release. I chose it quickly, thinking it would be wonderful to let go of all the things that have held me back. I could let go of anger, pain, and sadness, throw out relationship tools I no longer need. Maybe get rid of the couple of hammers still hanging out in my personal toolbox. It'd be wonderful! Right? And yes, I'm letting go of some of those things, sifting thru the years, forgiving slights, striving to see people and events in a new light.

Last week, tho, a new thought popped into my head. While releasing means letting go of things we've outgrown or no longer need or want, tools that don't serve us well, people who aren't safe, it also means freeing things held inside too long. It means expressing the words and feelings I've kept inside in a lifetime of peacekeeping and caretaking. It means trying the things I was afraid for others to see. It means speaking my truth in ways I haven't before. It likely means being more outspoken than I've ever been and less diplomatic. Maybe taking more risks that people won't understand or accept me. Not that keeping my truth inside has helped many people understand me.

It my also mean people who liked me before -- or the person I've presented the past 53 years -- might find they don't like me so much after all. You know what?  I'm okay with that. If people fall away, I won't take it personally.

Just a heads up -- if you've found me only a little annoying, you may find I'm more so. And if you've wondered how I really feel about things, if you want to see me try some new things, and you'd like to see me maybe offend some folks I've not gotten around to yet, this could be fun! 

How tv saved me (TW: violence)

Recently, my therapist asked me in my childhood, what people or influences gave me hope, a sense of what was good in the world. My first thought was one favorite aunt and a favorite uncle. As we talked, I realized that while the aunt and uncle each gave me an unconditional love no one else offered, that tv -- of all things -- played a huge role in giving me hope as a girl.

There was no educational tv as we know it today. As kids, we watched some cartoons on Saturday morning, but mostly regular sit-coms and dramas -- The Andy Griffith Show, The Brady Bunch, Star Trek, and later Facts of Life or Different Strokes. Our parents didn't watch with us; it was clear they didn't feel a need to share that with us. Watching tv was our escape, our shared landscape of the world in a chaotic, often mean, house. What I recall most from those shows, and why I remembered it during therapy is this -- the people on tv shows were nice to their kids. No one hit their kids with a belt, grabbed them by the hair, or backhanded them across the mouth. No Brady kid was ever sent out to cut her own switch. Seeing stories where parents were kind to children, where they not only said "I love you" (I had one parent who did that) but treated the children like they were loved, showed me that somewhere people were nice, that life didn't have to be mean. I could see my parents were wrong; it wasn't necessary to hurt us to civilize us.

That knowlege, tho, was double-edged. It was good to know kindness existed, but also sad and confusing that we didn't enjoy that sort of kindness; that no matter how good I tried to be, how much I helped, how many chores I took on, how hard I tried to help my sister be good, too, we didn't live in a kind place. At least not reliably kind or soft. The result of those contrasts gave me determination. I was going to grow up someday and leave home, make my own family. Things would be different. I'd show them people could be kind. I knew that because I saw it on tv, where parents and kids laughed about small mistakes, no one belittled the kid's feelings, or dismissed them. Feelings were taken seriously; kids were comforted and helped.

I did grow up. I became a Mom. I didn't always get the whole tv watching thing right. I let people convince me that The Simpsons was bad and didn't let my son watch the show. And because he's my kid, he found ways around me. Several years later, I came to my senses and let everyone watch The Simpsons. I bought that child a viewer's guide to The Simpsons as a peace offering, an apology of sorts. Today, Will can identify every Simpsons episode by the opening sequence.

In the years since, our family has enjoyed so many tv shows. More shows than I can list, because I'm sure I'd miss someone's favorite. Some of them I was slow to embrace. Some I still can't watch, but the boys do. There are some shows I watch with Andy, some I watch with Dan. We love finding a new show we can share, and I love what I learn about the boys while watching tv with them. Another treat is seeing which shows the boys share with Gary, who enjoys watching some shows that just aren't for me.

I wasn't overstating to say that tv saved me. In fact, I probably wasn't giving tv the credit it was due all those years ago. Which is why I cringe every time I hear or see someone assert that tv is dangerous to kids and should be tightly controlled. I believe tv should be embraced, shared, discussed, laughed at, and remembered fondly for all the moments we spent together.

Better than Peace

For years, practically my whole life, I've wrestled with the idea of peace. It sounds like a perfectly good word and ideal. Doesn't it? And yet, for me, peace and peacefulness have always been disappointing concepts. I've found a better, more useful concept than peace, a joyful goal even. I'll get to that later. 

Peace, tho, is the starting point of today's musings. Peace was my goal for years. It's held up by people as a noble goal. World Peace we're told is lofty - and then we're told why it's unachievable. Peacefulness in relationships, families, between parents and neighbors and relatives is laudable, especially when peace is reached between two entities who were previously being unkind, or even hurtful, toward each other.

But is peace always a laudable goal? That has not been my experience. My entire childhood, all I ever wanted was peace, but peace came at a terrible price. Having peace meant I had no boundaries, that I promised people things that could only be accomplished by giving every moment I had, leaving me nothing for myself. Peace meant sacrificing privacy, silencing my own voice, ignoring my own needs. Once people learned I'd give anything -- really, anything -- for peace, I was taken advantage of, lied to, and given false hope of peace. I chased peace, I begged for peace, I plotted for peace. How could I make peace happen? How much more of myself could I give to others in pursuit of peace? I mean, if peace was the magic answer, someday I'd reach that goal and get some calm and space. Right? I just needed to keep trying, keep trading away bits of myself, keep working harder.

I began to suspect I'd been sold a bill of goods no one could deliver. Peace is a lie. Peace is expensive beyond its worth. Peace costs joy, justice, and personal comfort. Sometimes peace even seems to demand one's soul and well-being. Peace is a thief. Peace is a tool used by those who would control others with threats and terror and lies. Peace is an empty promise, used to convince others to do your bidding. All of those statements were my truth, my experience of what peace meant and what peace cost.

I began to see that peace, as a goal, requires an amount of privilege and power that always eluded me. Proposing peace, if only I could give up one thing, and one more thing, accommodate one more discomfort, defer one more need, was my undoing. Peace doesn't guarantee justice or fairness, or even that everyone's needs will be met. Peace simply promises a cessation of violence, a hope that maybe others will stop violating one's boundaries, health, and very soul. 

So, you see peace as a goal, especially when sold to me by people who didn't struggle as I did (as I do) often angered me, saddened me, and almost always reaching what looked like peace to others didn't bring me any inner peace. Peace always brought with it sadness and pain and a deep sense of lonely otherness that broke my heart.

Today, tho, I saw a post on facebook that so completely spoke to me. It was an epiphany for me -- peace isn't the lofty goal I'd always been led to believe! Peace is simply a cessation of violence; an absence of evil. Peace really isn't want I want for my life -- the price is too high. Peace doesn't necessarily give us joy or even meet our needs. The best peace can be is safer than conflict. Really, peace is a pretty low bar for my life. 

Anyway, on to the better, higher goal than peace, to my new goal and the word I'll be using in place of peace from now on -- harmony. Isn't that a lovely word? It feels good in my mouth, brings a smile to my face, and so much comfort to my heart.

Sure, harmony comes at a cost, too. Harmony requires that some compromises be made -- in timing and priority and patience. Harmony, tho, also means everyone's voice is heard, everyone's needs are considered and prioritized as a goal to be met. Harmony calls for everyone to work, play, laugh, cry, wait, and show up together. Harmony, when reached -- and that's a process, not a unilateral "shut up and be peaceful now" -- is so much better, stronger, and more joyous than peace.