Validation

Tonight I was with a group of women friends and the topic of discussion turned to validation.  What does feeling validated mean?  What would it look like to be validated by the important people in your life, like your parents, your spouse, your friends?

It was an interesting discussion.  One of the women mentioned how her husband validates her every day by saying "I love you" at unlikely moments.  I never thought I needed validation from anyone outside of myself, but thinking about it in those terms I realized that that isn't the truth.  It only took a moment to realize that all my life has been a struggle for validation by the people I respect and admire.  

The difference between my friend and I, is that I don't feel validated by being loved, but rather by being respected.  I'm constantly striving for the great idea or success that would grant me recognition by the people I consider to be wise or intelligent.  I want to feel that my opinions are respected, that my ideas have merit.

I can't say that I've reached that goal.  I can't say I've had an idea or thought that would merit that kind of acknowledgment.  But I do know that this struggle motivates me to analyze my ideas, organize my thoughts, and try to present them coherently.  More often than not I get flustered, and all of my well-thought-out ideas scatter like marbles on ice, but I'm still trying!

What validates you?  What would you most like to hear, and from whom, that would make you feel validated?

God and Women

As you know from reading my earlier entries, I've been reading my bible.  I read it through entirely, and am going back and re-reading bits and pieces, since it's a long book.  There's no way to remember everything it says in one reading.

Anyway, one of the things that struck me is how many prominent women are mentioned in every culture but that of the Jews and Christians.  It would seem that God, my God, the God of the bible, introduced the idea that women should be subservient to men, and his people have been busy making an example of that to the rest of the world.  Christians especially, seem to have done a excellent job of setting this example, ultimately culminating in the dark ages, when women were worth less than cattle.

Now, after 6,000 years of this, women are working hard to dig themselves out of this trench to demand equality and respect.  Equality before men AND God.

So what was the point of this?  When I first read through the books of Moses, this really angered me.  During the time God was laying out all 600+ laws and instructions to Moses, he couldn't have said ONE DARN THING to protect women from what he, as God, should have known would happen?  It seems clear to me that Jesus respected women, and treated them well, which is probably why he had such a following of loyal women.  So why the disconnect?  What was the purpose of being such an ass?

You don't need to tell me what I already believe: which is that God DOESN'T know what's going to happen, and that he changes his mind just like the rest of us.  I would like to hear some other theories, though.

Making a difference, maybe?

I called my congressman in Washington D.C. today!  Well, I called his office, anyway.  I honestly only expected to leave a message on an aide's voicemail letting them know just what I thought of the bailouts and another ridiculous new piece of legislation going into effect next month, in the hopes of adding my name to a list of people with similar opinions.  I figured that if enough citizens clogged their voicemail with the same complaint, one of us would be heard.

Surprisingly, I was actually connected to a person!  I'm sure it was an aide, or maybe just a message-taker, but I was still surprised to actually be talking to someone IN the office of my representative.  

So surprised, in fact, that I forgot what I was going to say, asked some generic question about my congressman's position on the bailout, then hung up.  Once I got over the shock of speaking to someone, I got my act together and called back to ask some real questions!  I had to admit to having just called, and having forgotten what I was calling for, and still needing to ask the question I had intended to ask in the first place.

My complaint about the second piece of legislation I mentioned actually got me transferred to the office of the idiot congressman who drafted the legislation, and his aide let me know that they were amending the bill, a press release would be issued tomorrow, and he'd send me an e-mail with the details of the press release as soon as it was available.  He assured me my issues were being addressed, at least in part.

I have to say, I feel very empowered!  I have always felt that Washington D.C. was so far away that nothing I said or did had any affect on what went on there.  And even though I have "representatives", once they leave the state, they could really care less what I have to say until election time rolls around.

Well, there's that, and having no idea how to go about finding out who my representatives are, and how to get a hold of them!  Turns out it's pretty easy to find this information, with a quick google search and a zip code.  Plus, someone sent me a phone number in an e-mail.

So now I'm passing this information on to you.  Google "find my representative" and find your congressman.  (You can do the same for your senator.)  Then call him/her at 1-800-828-0498.  Ask to speak to your representative, and the operator will transfer you.  I'm sure there is something you'd like to tell those b***heads in Washington.  Be empowered, make a difference, let your voice be heard!

Learning to Read

My son decided to learn how to read over the weekend.  This was incredibly exciting news to me since, as you might have guessed, I love to read!  I have to explain a little about how my son operates.

He's a very cautious learner.  He tends to assume he can't do something until he's convinced he can do it well.  The most notable example of this was when he was learning to walk.  He was sure that he couldn't do it, even when he was, and as a result wouldn't let go of my finger while walking for at least two months beyond the point he could have been doing it on his own.  Even though my finger was offering him nothing more than moral support.

Likewise with reading.  He's been playing spelling games with me for months, spelling out words as a game we play in the car.  However, looking at those same letters on a page meant nothing to him because he was convinced he couldn't read.

This weekend, however, he decided he wanted to learn, so I gave him an old Dick and Jane reader I had.  Since Sunday, he has read halfway through this collection of stories, almost entirely without help.  He just decided he could, and therefore he can.  Despite the fact that these traditional readers don't pussy-foot about with phonics, or starting with 2-3 letter words, or leaving out all but the most basic punctuation.

I am most impressed with his progress.  More importantly, I am impressed with the traditional readers we grew up with, versus the crappy way that kids are being taught to read now.  Sometime soon I'll have to bore you with my theory of why one method is better than the other.  I bet you can't wait for that!

Postpartum Depression

I just finished reading an old blog posting by Penelope Trunk about postpartum depression.  She described the depression she experienced after her second child, and how she still had to maintain a normal life and work through it as she was the sole income provider for her family.

As she told her story I was struck by the fact that so few people really understand depression of any kind, but especially postpartum.  And even more troubling is that so few people recognize it, even in their closest friends and family.

I suffered from postpartum depression, however I didn't realize what was wrong until it was over.  I did a pretty good job (I think) of getting through my day, doing my job, and making sure the necessary things were done.  I don't know anyone who can get away with giving in to depression, wallowing, and staying in bed.  I have heard that some do, and this is how they recognize they are depressed.  However, I don't know anyone who can afford that luxury.

So how do you know you have a problem?  There are plenty of stories told of women no one would have guessed were having problems until they did something violent.

For me, I knew I was depressed.  Or, I thought I did.  I knew I wasn't functioning at my normal efficiency or ambition levels.  I knew I wasn't giving 100% to my job, or my family.  But I was getting by.  I knew I wasn't myself, but I didn't know what to do about it.  I mean, life and circumstances change.  This could just be the new me.  I don't think anyone would have been any the wiser if I hadn't started talking about wanting to die, at which point my sister-in-law kindly convinced a therapist to see me.

The therapy didn't last (she was terrible), so I tried anti-depressants, which helped by dulling all of my emotions.  When I got tired of being a semi-zombie, I quit taking them.

I can't say how long it lasted really, until one day I realized I had my ambition back and was again ready to try expanding my horizons.

I don't know the answer to this problem.  But I do sympathize with every woman who is working through this alone, in silence, because what else can you do?  You are doing no less than what is expected.  Every day you are required to get out of bed, go to work, come home, feed your family, clean up, and fall into bed at night without complaint.  Who cares that your feet are dragging, you are full of anger, resentment, and sadness, and you just want to cry all the time?  I feel for that woman.