Personal/Political

I was sitting on my porch with a dear friend of mine the night of the election. We were just realizing that Hillary might not win, something we had both taken for granted.  We were pretty bummed about Clinton as our next president, but could that many people actually have voted for Trump? He was really bad!  “I feel like were are kids.” I said to her.  “And Trump and Hillary are…our abusive parents.” She started laughing hysterically. Not at me, but with me. Not like haha, hilarious, but haha frighteningly hilarious and a little bit true.

Just a few days before the election, I was visiting my dad. He’s a Trump supporter, not because he agrees with the worst of Trump’s bigoted rhetoric, but because he likes what Trump represents to the establishment. He’s the disciplinarian and the businessman. The patriarch.

Our government really does need some discipline. The Left just points to the corruption on the right, the right points to the corruption on the left, but neither has a problem turning a blind eye to the corruption among their own ranks. Everyone believes they’re the good guys and those others are the bad guys, but we fail to realize that that dichotomy only exists because we make it that way. “But they’re worse that we are!” Shut up.   

My father abused me. He shut me down. He silenced me. I could not say a word against his without being put in my “place.” My father identifies with patriarchy. My father values money and power. He values hierarchal relations as defined by the bible.  His job was to hold the power, to discipline, make sure I accepted the hierarchical formation of my family, the world and the heavens.

A few days before the election, I was speaking to my therapist about my trip to my dad’s, including some quietly vindictive things I did against him, just little things, but things I knew would upset him.  I was acting out, still struggling with his abuse and lack of love and kindness. I have recently begun the hard work it will take to reclaim my voice that was snuffed out by my father and also to learn to not need or want him in my life.  

Trump is the embodiment of my abusive father and his values, the negative side of the Patriarch archetype. It’s like there’s this sort of double struggle going on, inner and outer, with the abusive patriarch. My personal struggle is merged with the public/political struggle.

I was checking in with another friend yesterday. And I started telling her about how I have my proverbial boxing gloves on and am ready to take this patriarchy on...and how Trump is the embodiment of my abusive father. She told me she felt exactly the same, how he embodied her abusers from when she was a child and how this election was super triggering, a sort of re-traumatization, for her.

Is this what all these people, those who have been abused and oppressed, people who have little social and political power, are going through? Is he the Face of Abuse? Is that why so many are falling apart? Well, I think it is, at least a little.

Our human condition seems to require that we hit rock bottom before we change. When it hurts more to stay the same than it does to change, that is when we are able to muster the energy it takes to do that work. I am not sure how far our bottom is, but maybe, just maybe, this is it? I hope so.    

As for our abusive mom, Hillary? That’s another story. But in a nutshell, Trump is our abusive dad, Hillary was supposed to protect us but she just made us more confused. And us minions are their wily teenagers who have had enough of dad’s shit and we are disgusted and disappointed at mom for being complicit and not protecting us. Or something like that.

The mother alone

The world has a lot of ideas about what a single mother should and should not do. She shouldn’t give birth, for one, if she is single, unless she is rich, of course, but even then...

A single mother should not homeschool her child, especially if she receives any sort of benefits. As a culture we do not support mother's spending time day with their children! Poor children belong in institutions, the public school system, so that they can be taught how to not be like you. You send your kids to school so you can work. Take some night classes while you are at it. The only thing a single mother should do is mother her child, but only when she is not working or attending an official higher learning institution. You need discipline. It is important that we keep the gears of our economy chugging along. Maybe it will grow so big it will become bigger than the earth itself, and then devour it.

But I am a writer, I say, I am writing a novel. That doesn’t count!, they say back.  Writing a novel isn’t real work until you make money, and even after you make money, we will all know you cheated in the first place. Like JK Rowling. We paid her rent while she sat and wrote silly stories when she could have been working at a real job.

You may only write a novel if you get up at 4am, even though you went to sleep at 11.  You can follow your true dreams, your inappropriate dreams, on your own time, when you aren’t working and when your child is asleep. I do, I say. But I sneak it in at other times too, I whisper, when I am supposed to be doing something else; when I am supposed to be being a productive member of society.

The Exhausted Mother, August Heyn (1837-1920)

This morning, I hope I can pull together the fragments of my mind just enough to focus, to unify, to connect, so the creativity can radiate through my body, through my heart and my head, through my arms, my fingertips.  Then slip out of me, hot and thick like molten lava, slowly slipping and sliding and hardening into form. But the child is sleeping. I am afraid she will wake up. Mommy!  I can’t focus, I know its coming. I feel guilty for wanting her to stay unconscious for much much longer so that I don't have to mother. I need to forget so I can calm the worried fragments. How will I forget today?

I want to get away. Take a weekend retreat like I know other mothers do. No. You must labor. You must labor until you have saved yourself.  

Making It Up As We Go Along Revisted and Recommitted.

NOTE: 11/15/16 I actually didn't blog every week. I am never going to make that sort of statement about my work again.

Today I embark on this blog, for real this time.  In fact, right now I am deciding to make it my New Yea resolution, since I don’t have one yet, and Thursday is New Year’s Eve.   Here goes: In 2016 I will write a blog post at least every week. I am a writer after all. You should subscribe. It will inspire me to write more.

Originally this blog was something like “Homeschooling Single.” But then I realized my relationship status and my feelings towards schooling are merely symptoms of who I am… “homeschooling single” doesn’t really describe anything about me. Nothing really does (except maybe weird and awkward). That’s always been my problem – or my super-power depending on how you look at it.  The funny thing about labels is that as soon as we assume them, we tend to start identifying with them. I used to unschool my daughter, but that became to limiting.  But that’s me, a single parent who can’t seem to wrap her head around the culture she lives in. Really. Sometimes its funny and quaint, sometimes its painful. We all feel alienated and different, but some of us really are. Like me. My therapist even says so.   

On the other hand maybe "single" actually does describe me.

---

On Wednesday, my daughter and I are head to Costa Rica, to see my daughter’s dad, and her paternal family. We have been several times, but this time is weirder.  I mean last time they were all like, “Why are you going?’  and “Why doesn’t you stay for several months, or years…” Then, because I am a poor single mom and because Costa Ricans are generally poor and don’t travel, its been two years since we have been able to connect, and no one really sounds very happy we are coming. No one is coming to meet us at the airport.  No one is like, “Hey, come over and stay with us!” Ramona’s father keeps writing to me asking me if I am sure I don’t want to be his woman in a way that tells me that if I am not I might not be as welcome as I have been in the past. That’s another weirdness factor in this visit…and sordid past between her dad and I that really belongs on a telenovela.  I am trying to change that, bound and determined to stay strong.  

And that is it. Wednesday morning, at 6am we catch our flight. My house is still a mess. I don’t know where we will be staying or where we will be going, or how we will be received, or how long it will take me to pay back for this trip... but we are going on an adventure.  In a way I am looking forward to it. Wondering if a month will be long enough. What do you think?

What Does it Do to Us?

What do our experiences do to us? Do they make us forget who we are? What does culture do?  These are the sort of questions I have been contemplating.

I have been seeing a somatic therapist for quite a while now, and every week since early spring. What I find striking about it is that for the very first time in my life I am telling my story which seemed to be completely locked down inside of my body. In the past, I have tried to write my story a couple of times, but it has always come out in disjointed, somewhat incoherent mini-stories with no overarching storyline and has not been shared. But, as I tell my life story to the therapist, piece by piece, the real story, a true story starts to reveal itself. This "true" story, I am not sure it is a story that can be told in words; perhaps this story exists in a world without, or before words. It is like a myth. The myth can be told, but the true meaning has no words.

My experiences I always assumed didn’t matter; of course I grew up under the impression that nothing about me really mattered. And maybe it doesn’t. 

There are also the stories adults told about me that I adopted as my own, like that since I am a Leo I am self –centered and that since no one listened to me, what I have to say must not matter, and since people get mad or jealous when I do something extraordinary, I must stop that.  And then I wonder, how do those experiences I had that I don’t really remember have on me?

When I was less than one, my mother and I were held at knifepoint for over 8 hours, though much of the time it was my mother at knifepoint and me alone on the dark forest floor, crying.  When I was two my mother attempted suicide. As she lay on the floor unconscious she said an angel came and told her she had to live or I had no chance and I needed that chance. Around my fourth birthday my best friend’s father killed his mother and just weeks after sentencing, killed himself.  I was aware of my missing friend and my parents spending time in the courtroom as witnesses. They lost two friends. But I didn’t understand. Not like adults understand. Those were my first four and a half years.

Why would a life begin like this and what does this sort of beginning do? Do the parts of our lives we don't remember matter, do the dreams we don't remember, matter?  And why have I had so much trauma and loss in my life? And why didn't I realize this until recently?  I often think it is simply in my lineage, which is also full of betrayal, death, neglect, secrets, abuse, incest, rape, slaves and slave-owners, ... But I have determined that it stop with me.  I am determined not to pass this dysfunction along. And I see the only way out as personal transformation. And I wonder, what does our lineage do to us? Lineage is another integral piece of a life. How do our ancestors find their way into us? And why?

And then I mourn for our cultures lack of closeness. As I tell my story to this therapist, who is thankfully diligently being paid for by my insurance, but is also a women I know and respect from the community, I wonder why don’t we tell our stories to each other?  I want us to share our lives with each other.

Being and Doing

Our culture is all about doing, accomplishing. Not so much about just being. People who are happy being, are often viewed less intelligent, lazy, lacking initiative, or...spiritual. I've been a little bit obsessed with doing and accomplishing. I never seem to be content unless I am clear about what I am DOING. And what I DO generally needs to be somehow making the world a better place or making art (which is also making the world a better place at the heart of it). But lately I haven't been able to do anything really. Or wanted to. Not doing a lot of parenting or homechooling, or practicing the bass like I am supposed to be, or painting that picture I want to paint, or writing that historical piece I have been thinking about for a year or so. I have 10 unfinished drafts to this blog (I think I will erase them).

I have no drive to do much of anything. Barely keeping the house together. Going to the gym (okay that is something). Thinking about my far-away love and how I will get him here (I guess that is something, too). Learning how real a long distance relationship can be (I am repenting at the moment).  Getting in a little gardening...Seeing my therapist. Looking for work. Oh. Maybe I do do stuff. And all this inner work. Now that is exhausting. And that is where the line between doing and being is washed away. And examined life is a lot of work.

Sheesh, this writing is reminding me of all the stuff I got to do!

Starting Again

I decided just now to start blogging again... just now. I decided to analyze my writing to see what famous writing I am like, from some app on Facebook. Of course I wanted to be sure, so I ran a lot of my writing through and I got a lot of different writers, but almost half of them were Cory Woderow or something like that. The time we find to waste on things these days. How many days have been wasted? Anyhow, it was that silly Facebook game that brought me back here. And I have decided once again to write from the heart and not worry about my ego and my public persona.

I've become tired of my life, so I am working on changing it. Without ruining my daughter's life. It actually a really big feat. Can one person give two people good lives and still be together as much as we want.

Ramona is happy. The trick is that both of us are. I am reaching out for change, grasping for it. I am looking for ways to engage in my career, find somewhere to grow. Ive been applying for jobs, which is just nerve-wracking and depressing... I have been contemplating starting training in a martial art... I went to an Aikido Dojo, but I am still contemplating until I know.

I've done this before. You put in the work, you put out your feelers, and eventually the right path opens up.

I have also invited Ramona's father here. I am not sure I could ever imagine it working out, but if I don't try I will regret it. If I do I might regret it too, but I am getting older, I want a rich life. I want to live big. It is so much better to regret something you've done than to regret something you haven't done. When you regret something you didn't do, it always haunts you. What if? If I regret something I have done, I just think...well at least I tried. And I am willing to put in the work. And I love Ramona's dad. And we want to be together, but we don't have the money. Believe it or not, it is really hard to visit here from anywhere in Latin America if you don't have a lot of money. So we are here, me without him...Ramona without him. Wondering...what if he forgets us. What if the time and the work it takes to be together again is just too much and we drift away before it is ever able to come to pass. I want to be a family unit. I want the father of my child with me. I've been alone so long.

Deschooling, Unschooling, Mentoring Self-Directed Learners

I came to "unschooling," because it seemed to fit this so-called anarchistic outlook on life I have... I did some research, joined some forums and was on my way. But, it didn't take long before I started having trouble joining the discussion. Partly because unschooling was not something I wanted to do, but just a piece of my life philosophy...

My journey into unschooling largely evolved from two of my favorite philosophers, Ivan Illich and Gustavo Esteva. Ivan Illich wrote "Deschooling Society," one of the best books ever. Deschooling Society is a critique of institutions and professionals – and the way in which they contribute to dehumanization. "[I]nstitutions create the needs and control their satisfaction, and, by so doing, turn the human being and her or his creativity into objects." Basically, some of us believe that the institutionalization of everything is degrading what it means to be human.

School is the first institution, the landscape on which the young mind is taught not to trust itself, its family, its community to know what is important, or  how to succeed or be productive or happy or acceptable. As an activist for social change and a fanatic for freedom and autonomy, of course unschooling was going to help define our approach to education.

But most folks seem to come to unschooling from the different direction. Exasperated people, fed up with the effect schools were having on their children or with the bending and molding and coercing of children into sturdy cogs in the machinery that keeps our socio-economy running like a fast train into god(ess)-knows-where. Unschooling is a model for raising children that turns many peoples perceptions up-side down...

So for me, unschooling is just that. NOT schooling. And schooling, well that mostly consists of training. i am not interested in a well-trained people. So, I figure, everything in the world that is not schooling is unschooling. Done. I don't care if folks make their children brush their teeth or limit sugar and whether or not this or that is unschooling. I am not worried about it because I think unschooling is better as a part of a worldview than part of an identity. I became tired of discussing unschooling almost as quickly as I tired of discussing potty-training, children's media, vegetables and meltdowns earlier in my parenting career. I just wanted to connect freedom loving parents.

I recently was gifted a book called, "Project-Based Homeschooling: Mentoring Self-directed Learners." It would be more precise had it been titled the other way around, "Mentoring self-directed learners with project-based homeschooling." It is a simple book with a lot of good information. If your already comfortable with the concept of letting children direct their own education, you could probably scan over about 90% of the first chapters and 40% of the rest - all the parts designed to coax parents into letting go of control, handing over the power to the kids. The rest is well-written and easy to navigate...a super awesome reference book that you need not read from cover to cover. It is the first book in a very long time that fits seemlessly into my parenting and living style.  Mentoring self-directed learners. I highly recommend it.

They even have a website and forums to join. I just did. I am jotting down notes about my daughter's compulsions, passions, daily activities, pondering how to use the information to understand my role in her education. She hasn't yet delved fully into any sort of project, but I am taking it slow. Working from the ground up, not pushing, practicing mindfulness, observing, and trusting that when I stop suggesting and stop bringing home activities and curricula for her to do, and start giving her my time and support with no strings attached, in whatever she does, it will come. I am sure it will.  And I will write about it.

I once studied in a school in Oaxaca that was largely set up the same way. It was called Universidad de la Tierra, co-founded by Gustavo Esteva, a friend of Ivan Illich....

And I have already noticed myself change my approach.  A friend of Ramona's came over to bake cookies. They made a couple mistakes that I saw coming from a miles away.  But I didn't interrupt and I let them make their mistakes and they will probably never make those same mistakes again...because learning doesn't just happen in schools, it happens in life, the whole of society. We as a culture keep learning, or trying to learn finally, that really there often isn't a static right and wrong way to go about things.  And I close with the opening paragraph of Illich's "Deschooling Society:"

Many students, especially those who are poor, intuitively know what the schools do for them. They school them to confuse process and substance. Once these become blurred, a new logic is assumed: the more treatment there is, the better are the results; or, escalation leads to success. The pupil is thereby "schooled" to confuse teaching with learning, grade advancement with education, a diploma with competence, and fluency with the ability to say something new. His imagination is "schooled" to accept service in place of value. Medical treatment is mistaken for health care, social work for the improvement of community life, police protection for safety, military poise for national security, the rat race for productive work. Health, learning, dignity, independence, and creative endeavor are defined as little more than the performance of the institutions which claim to serve these ends, and their improvement is made to depend on allocating more resources to the management of hospitals, schools, and other agencies in question.