Hate Begets Hate: Let’s Stop the Cycle Now

Hate begets hate, violence begets violence, toughness begets a greater toughness. We must meet the forces of hate with the powers of love. ~ Martin Luther King Jr.

hate begets hate

I’m about to step out of my comfort zone. I don’t “do” politics. I don’t discuss ugly things. It’s about time I discuss both of those things, and so I shall. I have opinions that I keep to myself, because I should. While I watch the world around me shatter, I keep my mouth shut. Because I should. But I have six children, and I really should not keep my mouth shut anymore because their future depends on me. On my opinions. On my actions. And so tonight, I step out of my comfort zone, and I speak my mind.

Anger is the route of all evil. Not guns. Not bombs. Not the angry acts of terrorists. Anger. External and internal anger will destroy this world. It has destroyed our parent’s past, and it will destroy our children’s future. Unless we put an end to it today! TODAY!!!

Anger begets anger. Violence begets violence.

By sensationalizing extremists and bigots daily, especially with the power of social media, we promote future catastrophic events. WE, as a society with the power of social media, have made bombers who target babies, bigots with guns who target certain races or people of different sexual orientations from our own, into heroes. HEROES. You, we, have made them heroes to other angry people with similarly insane minds think that they can be heroes too. We sensationalize them, the insane. We promote a future of insanity.

Stop it.

Stop posting about it. Stop talking about it. Never forget. Never stop thinking of ways to stop these extremists, but stop making the others think that if they do the same, they’ll be just as “famous” as their predecessors.

Stop.

Maybe you’re the problem. Fame is what they seek. They are haters. Hatred in carnate. You’ve made them stars. You’ve made the “others” think they can be famous too!

Not to make light of the current situation in this country, and others, but can’t we make unicorns famous? Can’t we promote the presence of mythical creatures that fart rainbows for a change? Ignore the hatred, not the loss of life of course, but not make the rapists, the judges that make poor rulings, the bastards that blow up churches, and the bastards that kill our brothers just for hanging out in a bar, heroes?

It takes a village, people. Our country should converge and be the village that fixes this fucked up world that we live in. Love over hate.

Love over hate.

Stop propagating their hatred. Stop forming future killers by making their predecessors heroes. STOP talking about them. Instead, let’s talk about how beautiful their victims were. Let’s put the asshats in the shadows by not acknowledging them at all. If we act like they don’t exist, maybe they’ll stop existing?

It’s not the guns. It’s not the bombs. Seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bomb or a gun act on its own. It’s the haters that need to go. Let’s make them go away.

My heart is heavy. I’m sorry for the loss of life, so many lives, over the past 2o or so years. I want it to stop. Can you please stop making these people feel like heroes on social media? The things you say today might be creating the monsters of tomorrow. You have nobel intentions, I know, but have you thought about the future you might be creating with your reaction to their hatred?

Anger begets anger, violence begets violence, toughness begets a greater toughness. We must meet the forces of hate with the powers of love. ~ Martin Luther King Jr.

Yes, I’m getting old, but I was born to break

Yes, getting old sucks, but some of us were born to break, and I am one of those people. I have a doctor’s note. Even in your 40’s, with a body that is in better shape (and way more active) than some people in their 20’s, bone breaking has nothing to do with age.

Disclosure: Pissy pants post prompted by some haters in my life, most that shouldn’t even matter, but I feel I need to get this off my “old” chest.

We all hate getting old, but let me dispel the rumor. I’m not falling apart because I’m getting “old”. I have a doctor’s note. I’m falling apart, and breaking, because I was born this way, and the breaking started some time around birth, apparently.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not fooling myself. I am getting old, but I’m not broken because of that fact. I’m broken in spite of it since I’ve always been “broken”.

I posted the other day about my “new normal” and I got some flack on Facebook. I heard that I’m just “getting old” and “these things happen”. Honestly, I was offended. I wasn’t offended that people said I was “getting old”. I am getting old. I was offended because people made the assumption, and overly judgmental statements, that my condition, my current broken situation, was solely based on the fact that I’m “old”.

Apparently, according to my doctor’s note, I was born broken. I guess I was born old? My bones, my tiny body, are not strong. I have a condition, that I was born with, when I was young.

There’s no name for this “condition” that they can put their finger on yet, but basically, I was born to break. Someone should have noticed years ago, apparently. I was born large, with Erb’s Palsy (because I was a huge baby…HUGE…1o lbs 11.5 oz). I’ve been ridiculously bow legged my whole life. I broke my baby toes while I cheered (or walked into wall jams) so many times that my baby toes now bend completely to the side of my feet with a ridiculousness that’s nothing short of a party trick. I have scoliosis (diagnosed at the “old” age of 12), a muscle disorder in my back (that they found when I was ridiculously old at 18). Broken, since birth.

I demolished my left elbow at the ripe “old” age of 35, it broke like a twig in several places, and I hit menopause at 41, just 4 months after the birth of my son. Let it be noted that I’ve had 4 children, now ages 26 to 7, without any hormone therapy, because “old” people do that. Yes, I might sound snippy here, but I’m tired of the insinuations and I’m ready to set things straight because my new “old” normal has been my normal my whole life, and I never knew it.

My normal is the reason why I never grew “like a regular person” apparently. My normal is why I break. My normal is why I don’t “heal” like everyone else. In fact, my “normal” is why my body actually heals quicker than most.

My body is what my orthopedist and my therapists now call “Mighty Mouse Syndrome”. No, that’s not an official medical term. That’s their term. They can’t explain it. In just 24 hours after my second surgery, while my arm was completely numb, a full block, my elbow healed itself to non-motion before I could get motion back again. Yes, in 24 hours, my body healed itself, protected itself from more pain, at a rate that most bodies, at a young age, would heal in 2-4 weeks. That’s what “old” bodies do, or not.

I have a disorder. I’m not your kind of  “old”. So, before you say my issues are because I’m “old” and I should deal with it because I’m “old” like you, maybe you should try to read, research, and understand, before you make your rash old judgements. You know who you are and thankfully I have WAY more supporters than I do haters, so there’s definitely that!

I am getting old. We all are, in fact. But my body, my 95 pound fit body, is still fighting harder than a 20 year old. My arms might be broken, but it has nothing to do with my age. Proof positive, there are millions of 40+ year olds walking around without broken elbows, all day, every day. Go figure. But not me. I was born this way. I’m an abomination of nature. Yay, me.

I can deal with getting “old”. I can’t deal with uneducated people telling me that I’m broken because I’m old. I can’t deal with uneducated people telling me that I’m not healing because I’m getting old. Take the time to read. Do your research. I’m not “healing” because my “old” body is healing too quickly. It’s fighting my condition. It’s protecting me from pain and further injury.

Thanks for your “advice”. When you get a medical degree, when you understand what’s wrong with me, I’ll be happy to listen to you because I really hope you can fix this “old” body of mine. In the meantime, I’d appreciate if you’d STFU because you have no idea how it feels to hear real professionals tell you that you were born to break.

You might be falling apart because you’re getting old and you don’t work out regularly and take care of yourself. I’m not taking that road. I’m really not that “old”. I was just born broken. I’m dealing with my new normal, my life-long normal that I never knew about. What’s your excuse?

Keep your issues to yourself and don’t read my rants if you want to judge. For real, I don’t need that shit in my life right now. I’m dealing with real issues. Just grow “old” and shut up. Thank you in advance!

#endrant

Coping with Life-Altering Events and Changes

How do you cope with life-altering events? Do you take them head on? Do you avoid them all together? Do you quantify them because some are just worse than others? I’m struggling right now with a life-altering event that trumps all others before this one.

my new normal

Some events are life altering. Birthdays, marriage, birth of a child, divorce, job change, house purchase, financial woes, moves, and broken bones. In my lifetime, I’ve been through all of those life-altering events and some are just easier to cope with, to move on from or rejoice in, than others.

Life altering. It’s all in your state of mind, right? I mean, I’ve been through most of the events I mentioned above multiple times.

Birthdays. I’ve had a few. Each is significant. Each is life altering. Each brings new challenges, but I embrace them because it’s just another year. Another wrinkle. Another day that I’m thankful that I’ve been afforded. Some are not so lucky.

Marriage. I’ve been there a time or two (or three…see divorce…I’ve been there too). It’s life altering for sure. Those men folk can be messy, they stink, and they’re stubborn. But when a marriage is better than it is worse, altering your life is truly worth it. If it’s not, you say good bye and deal with another life altering event.

But let’s face it, if the marriage was really that bad, if it was worth giving up on, it’s not that hard to say good bye and change your life. It might seem like it in the short term, but in the long run (shorter than any other recovery time), altering your life, for the better, was the right thing to do.

The birth of a child. OK, I’ve done that a bunch. Always life altering. Always worth it. The end.

Job change. Ain’t nothing but a thing. It happens by choice, or not. But it happens. We all deal with it, we move on, we find bigger and better things. Life altering? Yes. A bad thing? Not usually.

House purchase, financial woes, and moves. They all kind of go hand in hand. Money can make or break you. I’ve chosen to let it make me, whether good or bad, I always rise above and move on. I’m in a good place now financially, I’m in a nice home, life is good.

But broken arms? Those are different kinds of life altering changes all together. It’s something that’s hard to explain. I’m not talking about falling out of a tree when you’re 7, wearing a cast for 8 weeks, and going on about your life kind of broken arms. I’m talking about broken. Like, life is painful broken.

In 2003, I made a rookie move for someone in my 30’s. I attempted a cartwheel. In a hotel corridor. By a pool. On a wet floor. Slip. Fall. Ouch. A broken bone or two, a blown elbow, one surgery, some therapy, almost good as new 12 years later. Life altering? Yes. But I’ve dealt with the pain, the popping, the slight ROM loss, like a champ. My life has moved on and my left-handedness has won out. I win. Take that life altering event!

But in September of last year, 9/4/15 to be exact, I experienced the first life-altering event of my entire life that has me wondering what my new normal will be for the rest of my life. Sound dramatic? It is. When I slipped on that day, when that unsuspecting and harmless person stepped on my flip flop as I tried to take a step and I lost my footing and grabbed a chair and broke my arm in 6 separate places and shattered my elbow in a zillion pieces? That day changed my normal. That day altered my life for real.

Let me explain. These days, almost 5 months after that life-altering event, my normal is a hidden sob while trying to be normal. One day, I was cooking meals, cleaning my house, taking pictures, running a successful site, taking care of my husband and my kids, and going on as normal as an abnormal person does. The next, I was trying to figure out how to move again. How to be “normal”.

My arm really doesn’t move. Every meal I cook, every can I open, every click of a camera button…hurts. Yes, one click of a camera button sends my arm…my body…into fits of pain that I can’t explain. Fits of pain that leave me sleepless most nights. Hell, even Bubby’s huggie time hurts. My 7-year-old son approaches me for a hug and I wince. It will hurt like hell to bend that arm just to hug him, it will bring tears to my eyes, it will leave me swollen and incapable of doing my job in the morning. But I hug him anyway. I have to hug him!

This is my new normal.

Sex. Something I don’t discuss here often. It’s something that hurts. Have you ever had sex without moving your arms? You might not notice because you can move them normally, but you move them. Although I enjoy it, although I know my husband needs it, it hurts too.

Everything hurts.

Making lunches for my kids for school? That hurts. Try to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with an arm that doesn’t bend. It hurts.

It all hurts.

I could go on. I could say that my life, my pain, is so much worse than everyone else’s life or pain. IT IS NOT. I can walk. I can talk. I can hear. I’m alive. I’m thankful.

But this life altering event has the best of me. I’m not sure if I should deal with my new normal and give up on recovery or if I should attempt to go into month five of therapy, more surgery, and hope that my new normal will go back to my old normal. I just don’t know.

For the first time in my life, I’m not dealing with a life-altering change very well. I’m tired of pain. I’m tired of inadequacy. I’m tired of feeling like less of a person. I’m just…tired. I want to be “normal” again, whatever that is. I want to bend my arm, dammit. I want it to stop hurting when I try to bend my arm. I want to be able to cook a meal, take a photo, hug my son, and make love to my husband…without pain…again.

Is that too much to ask?

I’ve got to push on. I have to go to therapy again. I have to…be normal. I have to learn to deal with this life-altering event like I have with all of the life-altering events that have come before it. I have to…be normal again.

I don’t want this to be my new normal. I do NOT want this to be my new normal. How do you cope with life-altering events? Do you roll with unfortunate changes or do you figure a way to make the change? I need strength, support, and encouragement right now, so I really welcome your advice!

Can you help to encourage me to be “normal” again?