Mother Effing Chihuahuas

There are a couple of Mother Effing Chihuahuas that live down the street from me.  

I need to pause here for a moment to clarify that I don't think all Chihuahuas are of the Mother Effing variety.  I had a Chihuahua mix and he was a delightful little guy. But the ones down the street are most definitely Mother Effing Chihuahuas. Mother Effing Chihuahuas belong to a lesser class of demons.   

You can determine if the Chihuahua you are interacting with is in fact a Mother Effing Chihuahua if they rush out into the street like a small furry biker gang and pick a fight.  Or in keeping with my original metaphor, they act like hell spawn. I don't know if you have ever been jumped by a Mother Effing Chihuahua biker gang, but I have. Twice.  The first time resulted in spraining the middle knuckle of every finger on my left hand.  I'm a southpaw, so I can't say that was a convenient outcome.

The second time I got jumped was day before yesterday.  A little, black, fluffy, Satan in disguise rushed out at me and Luna, my Great Pyrenes mix.  

Normally this causes something of a kerfuffle while I wrest Luna past as she is bouncing in joy and delight at the sight of another canine.   

But, the day before yesterday, we were testing walking in the snow. I have only lived in a place that frequently snows for a little over a year, and Luna wasn't part of my family last winter, so we needed to do a test run.  I say "we" but really it was for me.  The test was really to see if I can stay upright while walking in snowy conditions, because she clearly had no difficulties.  Luna loves snow. Walking in the snow makes her face light up with joy. Being in the snow is a peak self-actualizing experience for Luna.

Luna

She continued to have no difficulties as I noted with alarm that we were walking on an icy patch.  Icy patches are not good for self-actualizing in measly two-footed mammals. As I was attempting to get somewhere with more traction, a Mother Effing Chihuahua, Mini-Satan (that's his street name), attempted to pick a fight, snarling and growling at Luna and I.  Luna, with four on the floor, kept her footing as she began the joyous bounce of delight.  I promptly landed on my ass.  And for a little extra oomph I had enough momentum to bonk my head too.  

Luckily, my pony tail and the hood on my coat padded my head and middle age has added some extra padding to my booty, so there was no long-term damage.  My ego remained intact, too because no one else appeared to be around besides Mini-Satan.  And honestly, I feel like it is entirely reasonable to have some difficulty around demons, even of a lesser class.  

To her credit, Luna stifled her joyous bounce to sniff inquiringly after my health.   

This was at the beginning of the walk, but I'm no quitter, so after some quiet cursing (On my part, not Luna's. She swears much less than I do), we carried on.  

We went on a walk again today.  I went on a route that is completely lacking in Mother Effing Chihuahuas.  I'm no quitter but I think knowingly tangling with a demon, lesser or no, is living a mite bit too dangerously for me.  

Urban Living and Blackout Poetry

Gizzy

I was minding my own business, walking Gizzy, our chihuahua mix, back from his appointment with his new veterinarian.  We are temporarily living in an urban area, so I can do things like walk to the veterinarian's office and check out the fun shops in between the vet's office and our house.  This is one of the good parts of living in a city, and since it is temporary, I am enjoying it as much as possible.  We passed a book store with boxes of free books out front. Free anything really calls strongly to my spirit, but free books is like a siren's song! Plus, I have a couple of craft projects in mind, as I usually do, so I rummaged around to see if I could find anything to read or to use for my projects.  I found a very cool, vintage garden book that will be good for something but I am not sure what and three hard cover compilations of best selling non-fiction from the early 1990's.  

They didn't work out for the project I intended, so I decided to do blackout poetry instead.  Blackout poetry is written by choosing the words on the page to form a poem.  Because the content of the page directs the tone of the poem it creates an avenue to ideas and themes that I don't usually generate.  I tend to be more rainbows and butterflies, with a focus on nature and my family. These poems seem to explore human nature and the second poem is definitely darker than my usual stuff!  

"Counsel"

He would accept anything that resembled wisdom,

the future,

a new beginning.

The moment I could see a change in mood, grace.

He accepted the ultimate as his own.

"Let me tell you precise words, 

upon advice, upon facts, and intelligence."

I listened and watched since birth.

Thus began years of service,

access to every aspect of community.

To follow the most rewarding activities.

We met human intelligence.

"Darkness"

The sanctuary from life, 

in the middle of the night.

I listened carefully into the bottomless darkness, near the end.

I watched in silent distress.

Continued intrigues present speechless.

It was suddenly clear demons were inside him,

immediately after me.  

Perspective or Watching My Husband Summersault Down A Cliff

Top of our cliff looking down

As a preface to this post, it is important to note that my family and I lived in a house situated directly adjacent to a cliff.  And not the bottom of said cliff, at the top of this cliff. I was initially hesitant about buying a property that included a cliff but I really grew to appreciate it. It came with great views and was a great place to chuck yard debris.  

In August 2017, on one of the hottest days of the year, I walked out in the backyard and approached the edge of the cliff to see my husband, Aaron, disappearing over the edge hanging on to a rope with a hastily tied knot.  The knot promptly untied and he went arse over tip down the side.  As he was summersaulting down the side of the cliff I said "I thought that might happen."  Simultaneously, he was fearing for his life and wondering why I was so nonchalant about his demise.  

My lack of concern was really adding insult to injury because he had spent the day dealing with backed up plumbing.  In addition to a cliff, our home also had a plumbing system with a habit of flooding the basement bathroom (you can read about our plumbing saga).

The attempted climb down the cliff was in pursuit of our Shop Vac, which he had dropped when attempting to dump the water he had vacuumed up dealing with the plumbing fiasco.  

So, Aaron is contemplating his imminent death after a day of vacuuming toilet water from the bathroom for roughly the 249th time, he is at least happy that he won't be dealing with plumbing ever again.  He is, however, very miffed that I didn't express any alarm.  

Before you assume my lack of alarm was because I was expecting to cash in on his life insurance, let me explain.  I had something that my poor husband was lacking.  That something was perspective.  I could see very clearly that he was going to do a complete backward summersault and then come to a stop on a ledge with a cushy tangle of English Ivy and a nice stump acting as a railing. (His landing was a little sideways, so I gave him a 9.5!)

Creek at the bottom of the cliff.

Once he stopped rolling and regained his composure, he located the Shop Vac and three of its four wheels.  The fourth wheel was lost forever more to the English Ivy.  He carefully picked the rest of the way down, walked across the bottom of our property and climbed up the trail we had on the other side of our cliff.  He appeared just in time to be introduced to the plumber who had recently arrived to assess the situation. 

The plumber was very alarmed to learn Aaron had just fallen down a cliff and was also confused by my lack of alarm.  The plumber also lacked perspective. He calmed down when I explained about the soft landing.

Several hours later, it was my turn to be panicked.  We were luxuriating in the shower with our fully functioning plumbing when my husband said "Look at what I found in my butt, honey!"  I was completely lacking in perspective because I wasn't wearing my glasses and all I could see was a darkish blob. My initial response was some level of alarm, after all, nothing good comes out of someone's hind end!   My alarm dissipated when I realized that he had a stick and a couple leaves, which he had picked up during his tumbling exercise.   

Our perspective is one of the keys to understanding emotional reactions.  I had zero panic about Aaron's fall because I could see from my vantage point at the top of the cliff that he was going to have a soft landing after a short tumble.  Aaron experienced complete panic because he was the one tumbling down the side of a cliff.  The plumber had mild panic hearing about it because it sounded terrible but Aaron was not obviously injured. 

When feeling panicked, or anxious, or overwhelmed, etc., checking your perspective can shift your emotional experience. Getting a new perspective on your situation isn't always easy but is certainly more feasible than mid-summersault down a cliff!  

    

What a Vote for Donald Trump Means to Me

The president is the type of man that exploits, abuses, and manipulates others to meet his own ends. (Note: yes some abusers are women, however the majority are men)  This type of man is an abuser; abusers may appear different on the outside, but the basic behaviors are the same. It is just the façade that differs.  Abusers want power and control. They don’t care who is harmed, so long as they get what they want.  They lie, coerce, gaslight, sexually assault, emotionally abuse, physically abuse, manipulate, and financially control others. The abuser minimizes, denies, blames, and vilifies others to detract from their own transgressions. This is behavior that our President publicly demonstrates on a regular basis.

 

My background of working with survivors of domestic violence, child abuse, and sexual assault means my knowledge comes from experience. Many of my clients are recovering from being exploited, abused and/or sexually assaulted by this type of man.  There are people who have had their PTSD triggered every day since campaigning began in the summer of 2016 because of their exposure to Trump's behavior. This type of behavior is not leadership, it is abuse. Because of his behavior, and the Republican Party's willingness to enable him,  Trump's presidency had allowed other perpetrators to feel they have permission to exploit, manipulate and abuse.  His behavior legitimizes their behavior.  The President has undermined the lifework of all service professionals, including myself and my husband,  who work with survivors of violence and abuse. 

 

This is not normal. This is not okay. This is not like any other president in my lifetime, even though we have had some deeply flawed presidents who made very poor decisions (sex with an intern, for example). I know some people voted for him as an attempt to make changes to the politics they were tired of. However, the changes that need to be made cannot be done at the hands of an abuser. He was not the answer then and he is not the answer now. 

 

I endeavor to be flexible and inclusive of different ideas, philosophies, and policies. However, I draw a definite line at abusive behavior.  The President’s abusive behavior is unacceptable and a vote for him is a vote to condone abuse. It demonstrates support for an individual who violates  every value I was raised with and strive to apply to my life’s work, personally and professionally. Put more simply, he is an abuser, and a vote for him means you are siding with an abuser.  I always side with the victims. It breaks my heart that so many I love and hold dear have fallen prey to this man and his abusive tactics.  I hope for better for all of us.

      

A note to the reader: I have primarily been unaffiliated with any political party.  I aligned with the Democratic party this year so that I could vote in the primaries and hopefully nominate a candidate with a broader appeal, not because I consider myself a Democrat.  My values typically align with more progressive policies, but I have voted for a variety of political parties and will continue to do so, depending on the issues at hand. So, this is not a Democrat vs. Republican stance.  

Breaking Free and a Reason for Hope

(A note to the reader: I am discussing aspects of history, racial equity, white supremacy, colonialism, and fundamentalist Christianity.  I am choosing to write about these things because I noticed a compelling intersection with my work as a psychologist assisting victims/survivors of violence leave abusive relationships. While I am generally well-read, I am not a historian, a scholar of racial inequity, a member of a racial minority, etc.  The themes and ideas I am writing about are very rough due to my need for further education in these concepts.  They are likely discussed by other more qualified individuals, with better clarity.)


People all over the country and the world are protesting in opposition to police brutality, specifically against Black Americans*.  The protests’ immediate trigger was the murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis by a police officer over an alleged counterfeit $20 bill.  This is one of many deaths of Black Americans at the hands of the authorities and it has been happening since the birth of our country. 

As the world erupted in protests, property was damaged or destroyed; police officers in some places escalated their violence. Everyone around me had strong reactions- anger about police brutality, anger about racism, anger about all cops being labeled as bad cops, anger about property destruction, anger about political polarization, anger about everything it seems.  

In addition to anger, the protests caused the collective level of anxiety to rise, skyrocketing above and beyond the already high levels due to the Covid-19 pandemic.  

My own anxiety also initially increased, but then I noticed that I had a sense of hope.  This is an unexpected reaction for the circumstances, so it caught my attention.  

After some reflection, I realized that I more hopeful because aspects of the protests and activism mirror my work with victims/survivors of domestic violence. 

This feels similar to helping women leave abusive relationships.  I have spent my entire career working with survivors of domestic violence, helping women leave abusive relationships and helping women protect their children against abusive ex-partners.  There is a distinct pattern to the process. 

The first stage of an abusive relationship involves tension-building.  During this stage there is mounting unhappiness on the part of the perpetrator.  The victim attempts to keep the peace in any capacity that they are able. She will anticipate as many of his wants and needs as possible to try to prevent an explosion that often leads to violence. 

The second stage is the crisis stage. This is when the perpetrator uses violence and/or manipulation to attempt to control his partner. The violence can be in the form of emotional abuse, escalating to physical violence and even death of the victim. The perpetrator will escalate his use of violence if the victim attempts to leave or resist the abuse.  

If the victim doesn’t leave the relationship and is still alive after the crisis stage, the relationship goes into the honeymoon stage. This is much like it sounds, the abuser makes amends.  He often acts the same as he did at the beginning of the relationship, gives gifts or expresses support. This is done to maintain control of the relationship. 

All phases of an abusive relationship have elements of power and control, described in the graphic to the right.  There is constant restriction and control in multiple facets of her life, always. 

As a country we are at the crisis stage.  Instead of continuing to experience the abuse, we are leaving the abusive relationship with white supremacy, colonialism, and fundamentalist Christianity, which are elements embodied in the criminal justice system's treatment of Black people.

I want to be clear that when I refer to the criminal justice system being a perpetrator of violence, I know not all people working in the criminal justice system are perpetrators, or that every police officer, corrections officer, judge, parole officer, etc. is a perpetrator.  My husband's cousin is a police officer and he was recently recorded hugging a protester.  One of our good friends is a corrections officer and he is known for his ability to de-escalate angry, agitated people.  I am well-aware that there are police officers, corrections officers, judges, parole officers, etc. doing their very best in a difficult situation.  Their efforts do not in any way negate the parallels between the criminal justice system and domestic violence perpetrators. Nor does it negate that we have a problem in the criminal justice system. 

There is ample statistical evidence that the justice system is unfairly and violently biased against Black Americans.  If the process was unbiased the percentage of Black Americans vs. the percentage of White Americans who are arrested, prosecuted and convicted would be approximately the same as the percentages of those groups in the general population.  They are not, even though the percentage of both populations that commit crimes is the same. Additionally, data kept by the FBI clearly shows Black people are much more likely to be seriously injured or die at the hands of police or in prison. 

Education and health outcomes are additional well-researched areas that demonstrate significant racial disparities in resources and outcomes.  This research demonstrates how white supremacy, colonialism and fundamentalist Christianity pervade all our institutions and alter how Black people are treated. 

As a culture, we are attempting to leave the relationship and our abusive partner, the criminal justice system, is escalating the violence and/or manipulation to keep us under its control.  In this case, it is the protesters and activists who are in the role of the woman attempting to extricate herself from the abusive relationship.  Institutions in the role of the abusive partner, such as police departments, are in some places escalating the violence to intimidate their partner back into the relationship. This is a very common tactic of domestic violence perpetrators.  

Some police departments are choosing a more conciliatory route, and are marching with the protesters, giving out hugs, etc.  Many of these departments and many of the individual officers are sincere.  In these instances, it is important to ensure that the conciliatory actions are backed up by the history of the department. If their history of treatment of Black American’s doesn’t line up with the more recent, conciliatory actions, manipulation may be part of the motivation. This is the perpetrator who brings flowers after he has shoved his wife against the wall, is kind and loving for a few weeks after he cracked her ribs and promises to never do it again.  

In both of those scenarios, what I have learned is if there is a plan where the woman has support in all the major areas of need, such as housing and income, bravely follows through and doesn't fall prey to the abuser’s aggression and/or manipulations, she can escape.  Yes, that is a lot of ifs, but I have seen happen many times, so I know it is possible.  Most of the time these men are bullies and bullies are cowards. They use aggression and violence to control others because they are so psychologically fragile.  If abusers are faced with a united front, one that doesn't succumb to their attempts to beat or manipulate their victims into silence, they can't tolerate the loss of control and they quit.  On an individual level, they often find a new victim. However, because we are doing this on a societal level, we have an opportunity to limit their ability to find new victims and cause harm.  

This gives me cause for hope and I write this to share my hope with you. 

As I sit here writing this, there are examples of many different groups uniting to bravely withstand the escalation of violence by refusing to fall prey to the aggression and violence directed at the protesters and activists. They are united by the core value that abuse is not okay. 

We have the momentum; it is important to keep going.  

*after research and consultation I decided to use the term Black American's rather than African-Americans because many Black Americans are from Caribbean countries and do not identify with the term African-American.  The use of  the term Black American is meant to be more inclusive.  I also opted to use the term Black American instead of People of Color (POC) since the current movement centers around Black Americans, although there are disparities in the treatment of individuals in other groups as well.  If you have feedback regarding these terms, please share them with me!

Wintertide

Wintertide

The glow of molten gold

illuminating the winter sky.

A gilt band amongst pewter,

encircling boughs of evergreen.

Beautiful Wintertide,

gold and silver intertwined with jade.

Spent Blossoms

Remember that the end of one thing, no matter how catastrophic, is the beginning of another.

Be patient, my friend, while we wait for winter to pass.

The bleakness of spent blossoms brings the assurance of flowering again.