Thinking About Michael Brown

When Michael Brown's death made nationally headlines, I thought, "Aw, that sucks."  Which.  Is maybe the most disgusting reaction to the knowledge of a human being's death?  My self-centered privilege could not be better summarized than my indifferent reaction to the end of a person's life.

I was going to write about how my opinion changed, a process that mostly revolves around the destruction of my naive belief that of course Darren Wilson would be charged with murder.  But I'm not good at talking about this.  Racial tensions, and a history of racial privilege and abuse that has been largely swept under the rug (because of embarrassment? a genuine hope to move past it?), oh my gosh, that is so out of my depth.  I very much believe racial equality is still something for which America must strive, but I'm not knowledgeable on all the details of how this plays out. 

So instead I'm just going to post some of the things I've been seeing online that have got me thinking.

I'm ashamed to admit that when this first was blowing up, I thought, "But I'm fighting for gender equality, not racial equality."  Again, ugh, the inside of my brain, ugh!  As if my concern for justice can only cover one group.  Thankfully I saw things like this that connected the dots for me.

This grossed me out...

One quote that especially made me sad...

“What age is a black boy when he learns he’s scary?”― Jonathan Lethem

And then there were a lot of comparisons made of how the law treats black and white people drastically differently.

"Just a reminder that James Holmes shot 82 people, walked out of a movie theater armed to the teeth and was arrested peacefully, while Mike Brown and a 12 year old boy with a toy gun were shot to death by cops because of 'self-defense.'"

This is not a place where I'm defending what "really" happened or how this specific situation ought to be played out, although I definitely have opinions.  What I care about is my growing concern for the racial divides that run deep in American veins.  In my veins.  I am appalled at how easy it was for me to not care about the death of a human being.  I am appalled at my preference in supporting one oppressed minority (aka the group I'm in!) while totally ignoring another oppressed minority.  I want to be on the side of the downtrodden, the abused, the hurting, the ignored, whether or not I can personally identify with them.  I'm done with not caring.

Grieving The Road Not Taken

Studying counseling is...so handy.  It's as if all of life involves emotions, and knowing how to navigate them is useful. 

One thing I've loved learning is that we grieve more than the loss of humans.  We also grieve the loss of opportunities.  And every time we choose something, we are necessarily choosing not to do every other thing.  Those other things deserve to be grieved.

This is different than the fear I feel thinking about Athens (at which point Kim's voice enters my head:  "Don't make a decision based on fear.").  This is me allowing myself to grieve losing Dallas.  I'm sad that I wont work with Nancy and Tyler.  It's so fun for Nancy to crash in my office while waiting for clients.  It's so fun to duck into Tyler's office to discuss being Scottish.

I'm sad to leave a group of friends who know me more intimately than any others, friends I made while we were all practicing our counseling skills in getting deeper faster.  I'll miss going out for coffee or--oh man, I'm going to miss the live music of Dallas so much.  I'm going to miss the kids I nanny, and getting to crash in a fancy house and eat their snacks.  I'll miss DTS even, although right now my senioritis finds that hard to believe.

Part of me wants to shove this sadness down.  Being sad means I can't move forward, being sad means I'm throwing a pity party.  I used to believe these lies, but not anymore.  "It hurts because it mattered," John Green wrote, and thinking of leaving Dallas hurts because being here mattered.  That's a wonderful thing!  It is so good to be sad and to grieve the loss of something meaningful and lovely.

Grieving doesn't mean I'll change my mind.  Grieving doesn't mean I'm not also crazy excited about going to Athens.  I'm an emotionally complex human being, capable of feeling multiple contradictory emotions simultaneously.  And I'll counsel myself via a blog if I want. 

Scared

Soon after I emailed Dina and Argyris, I was driving down Royal when I thought, "This is the dumbest thing I've ever done."  My mouth curled into a smile as I thought about leaving my internship, my awesome supervisor and coworkers.  I thought about turning down a solid job in order to depend on fundraising, and my smile turned into a loud crazy laugh.

"Thank you, God!" I laughed.  "Thank you for pushing me through the doubt and getting me to this place.  I love it!"

I love the risk, I love the insanity, I love having to trust God.  I suck at that in the small everyday things, but when it gets big enough to be life-changing, I love throwing it all away.

Of course, that intense joy hasn't lasted.  Fundraising intimidates the hell out of me.  Leaving the lovely people in Dallas who know me so intimately, who have been my counselors and allowed me to counsel them--that sucks.  Imagining starting over in a new country, making new friends and finding new streets and grocery stores is already exhausting.

I feel a little bit like I'm not allowed to be scared.  I fear that someone will say, "Well, this decision is wrong.  You were right when you decided to stay in Dallas."  So for awhile I didn't tell anyone about my fear except for Michal.

Me:  "Yeah, I'm really excited. Starting to also feel sick with "OH MY GOSH WHAT AM I DOING" but I think it wouldn't be an adventure if I weren't a little bit terrified."

Michal:  "Most people live their lives never being afraid of anything. Which means you never experience the thrill of doing something risky you know Jesus is beckoning you to do. Jesus is in Greece too.  Or, they are scared of everything and are petrified into doing nothing also. Either way, you can be scared. Scared, and stay, and regret, or be scared, get drinks with friends and cry and laugh and dream over things who will support you no matter where you go, cry on the plane if you need to and then go freaking do it and have awesome stories to tell your kids one day, meet equally brave people, help those who are hurting, and contribute to a story God is creating with other people. You will smile when you look at Jesus one day knowing you went with Him to Greece."

What a friend.  I love Michal.  She had better come visit me in Greece five million times. 

I Reserve the Right to Change My Mind

I have told so many people, "So you know how, like, five days ago I told you I was definitely going to stay in Dallas?  Well....I have completely changed my mind."  It's gotten a bit old, eating so much crow, but I probably need to do one big blanket explanation.  Plus when I'm old and writing my memoir, these blog posts are going to be invaluable information.

Last Monday I was finally able to Facetime with Dina and Argyris.  It was so great to see their faces.  We spent the first five minutes gushing about how crazy it is that we first met each other ten years ago (when I was a baby 16-year-old!), how we've kept in touch this whole time and supported each other however possible.  I felt my heart melting for this amazing couple.

"We want you to come for six months," Argyris said.

"A year," Dina corrected him.

"I'm trying not to scare her!" Argyris said.  "But, yes.  The longer you can come, the better.  These women have been abandoned their entire lives.  I don't know what you feel God's calling for you is, but if you want to stay in Greece for the rest of your life, we would love that."

I laughed internally.  I WAS SO RIGHT.  In the two months of no contact, I'd worked myself into thinking I was over-reacting, reading dramatic requests where only minimal ones existed.  Not so!  They were just as passionate and friendly-demanding as I was.

"What if I just came to Athens for a couple weeks?" I asked.  I was trying very hard to hold on to my previous decision.  "I care a lot about supporting you guys, and I would love to help raise awareness about your work."

"We will take you in whatever way possible!" Argyris assured me.  This was the worst thing to say.  If he had downplayed the usefulness of a short trip, my rebellious stubborn nature would have done it to Prove How Useful I Am.  Instead, his genuine acceptance melted me further.  Two weeks wasn't enough.  I had to go for a year.

I began to freak out at this point, and it was with some relief that we ended our Facetime.  I walked around my house in circles.  It was suddenly clear that of course I had to go.  All of the reasons why I was so excited three months ago came rushing back.  This was perfect.  But what about the reasons I had decided to stay in Dallas.  What about my desire to experience long-term relationships?  What about my tendency to avoid intimacy?

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got.  I am a vulnerable person.  I over share, some people say.  Of course there are some things I don't share with just anyone, and of course I am learning to show anger and tears in real life.  But I'm not the emotionally closed off person I like to think I am.  As for leaving long-term relationships...I DON'T.  Moving to Jackson, to Senegal, to Texas...it twists my stomach to think of those decisions as mistakes.  Each time an opportunity presented itself.  I didn't seek it out.  It happened, the choice lay before me, and I decided to take it despite the fact that it meant leaving dear friends.  Dear friends that I carry in my heart and chat with on Facebook.  I'm not interested in leaving them.

And anyway, I LOVE people.  I think the key difference is that while I love the people I am with at the moment, whenever I see a new group of people in another state, another country, I think, "I want to know them!  I want to know how they learn and love and work!"  I want intimacy with everyone.  I want the whole world to be my friend.  That's not a deficit.  That's a gift.

All of these thoughts convinced me I ought to go to Athens, but....what if I was wrong!?  This had all happened way too fast. 

I Facebook messaged Kim, since I knew she would understand the conflict of "when is something big enough/worthy enough to choose moving over staying?"  She refused to make the decision for me, but said things like, "Not everyone has your spirit of adventure" and "Don't ever make a decision based in fear."  I countered each of her thoughtful comments with a "But...."  Finally she said, "Stop considering all sides of the argument and BE STILL AND WAIT."

So that's what I did on Tuesday.  Every time I felt myself arguing a pro or con, I told myself to shut up.  As I turned off my brain, I kept thinking about how God is a wild God, how "he is not safe, but he is good."  I realized staying in Dallas and building a private practice would be the logical and easy decision.  But how often does God do the logical and easy thing?  Not very often, as far as my Bible studying has gone.

I've always loved the story of Gideon, loser extraordinaire.  As my friend Ruth said, "I can't tell if he's a hero or a douche."  "He's a hero and a douche.  That's what makes him so great!"  I didn't even get to the part about him, though.  At the very beginning of his story, an angel appears and says, "God is with you."  Cowardly Gideon is threshing wheat in a winepress, and he grumbles, "How can God be with us if the Mideonites are attacking us?"

My heart stopped.  That is exactly the sentiment I imagine women who have been abused and trafficked would feel.  "How can God be with me when all these horrible things have happened to me?"  I wanted nothing more than to fly to their side to say, "I am God's ambassador, I am his arms and legs and eyes and mouth, and I came halfway around the world to be with you, to know you and care for you, so that someday you might believe that he loves you, he is with you!" 

My brain knows that the best thing to do is stay in Dallas.  But my heart is 100% convinced that I should go to Athens.  I'm going to follow my heart, especially since it felt, for a moment, like God's compassionate heart was beating in its place.

On Wednesday I emailed Dina and Argyris and committed to staying at least one year in Athens.  I did learn from my previous decision.  I do want to live more in the present without looking ahead to the next thing.  So I'm moving to Athens.  And I'll stay there until I know I ought to be somewhere else.  0_0

One Direction Manifesto

My blog has gotten decidedly too serious of late.  The best way I can think to remedy this is to fangirl about why I love One Direction, the English-Irish boy band who slowly invaded my psyche two years ago and has turned me into a 26-year-old tweenager.

 

A few things about the band as a whole before I detail the excruciating ways individual One Direction members have ruined my life:  Boy bands are pretty much designed to appeal to my ideal male aesthetic.  Cute guys forced into ridiculous outfits/situations/poses?  YES PLEASE.  The combination of attractive and silly is the Instant Highway to my heart.

I first heard about One Direction when some adult bloggers I follow started falling in love with them and writing wonderfully horrific posts about the hell that is being a 29-year-old who follows every move of a group you are nearly two decades too old for.  Haha, I thought, how embarrassing.  But the way they write about these idiots is pretty hilarious.  And then I started...unironically looking forward to the newest pictures/interviews/gifs.  That's so Louis, I would grin at my computer.  Wait, NO.  I don't know him.  I don't care about them....oh no.  I'M IN TOO DEEP.  Somewhere around a year ago I decided to stop pretending.  I love One Direction!  It's embarrassing and wonderful!

Of course, there's the fact that they are musicians and I almost don't care.  I heard singles from their first CD on the radio and cringed.  But you know that weird transformation where unattractive people with great talent start to become attractive to you?  Well, this was the opposite.  Not very talented people with great attractiveness started to become talented to me.  It's gotten so bad that at this point I legitimately don't know whether they are a good band or not.  Their fourth album leaked online, and I gagged and fake-sobbed in the car with intense pride at how much they have grown lyrically and musically.  Are they still manufactured pop?  YES.  Do I care anymore?  NO.

Okay, I think I'm ready to delve into the mind-numbing beauty and idiocy that is each member of life-ruining boy band One Direction.

Louis Tomlinson

Louis is my favorite.  This started because I felt very creepy loving a teenage boyband, and as the oldest member, Louis was only four years younger than me.  That was a suitably minimal amount of creepiness.  But what began as a crush of necessity has turned into an obsession.  Louis is everything I want to be!  Louis is loud and brash and obnoxious!

He loves pulling pranks and breaking rules!  He demands the spotlight and will force you to love him!!

He is horrible, but he's protective of those he loves.  His brash exterior cannot hide his TENDER LOVING HEART.

He is a preppy pretty boy turned trash monster, and I support all his forms of "fashion."

 

 

He will give you the most disdainful glance in the history of entitlement, and you will beg him to do it again.

   

Harry Styles

As the youngest member of the band, I did not allow myself to crush on Harry.  Plus, everyone in the whole world agreed that he was the best/cutest member, and I resented his star status.  If everyone loves one thing, I will purposefully love someone else (re: Louis).  But, I mean, whatever.  WHO AM I TO RESIST THIS MONSTER?

I read a BuzzFeed article recently about Harry's disgusting descent into hair horror.  I could not disagree more vehemently.  While his baby curls are iconic, I think he peaked with the pirate headscarves, but I am more than happy to gaze on his messy man bun.

 

He's clumsy, awkward, and the dorkiest rock star I've ever seen.

My heart is stolen.

Zayn Malik

MORTALS, avert your gaze!  Zayn is an angel trapped on earth, he is a gift for our eyeballs, he is the prettiest man in the world.

That is my full opinion on Zayn.  I can't look on him very long without doubting his humanity, or maybe my humanity, or maybe the humanity of all these lesser men and women walking around on the street.

Just kidding.  Of course there's more.  I also love that he got pigeon-holed as the "dark, mysterious one" when really he is just a shy little baby who likes to sleep and be alone!!  My heart. 

Liam Payne

Liam Payne wins the Puberty Award, because HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?

 

From this to...THIS!?

He is a bit simple, a bit unremarkable, a bit just there.  Like a puppy.  Which is FINE, and people like that.  But I want more!  He truly shines when Louis gets his greedy claws into this good ol' boy and convinces him to bump up the mischievousness.

Niall Horan

In real life, Niall would be the one you'd want to hang out with.  He's funny, carefree, and is pretty attractive for a blond guy.

But he's TOO NORMAL.  I'm so sorry, Niall, but I cannot fully love you when you're just a regular dude.  I mean, I'll smile at your pictures and maybe even chuckle a few times, but you just don't get my heart racing.

Not to worry, though, you have plenty of other fans to keep your ego up.

 SO THAT'S IT.

That's the boy band that stole my heart.  Clearly Louis and Harry occupy the largest corners of my brain/soul/hormone control center.  BUT ONE DIRECTION IS NOT COMPLETE without any of these weirdos, and you could not pay me anything to kick one out.

What an embarrassing thing to love.  Boy bands!  But being embarrassed has never kept me from screaming about the things I love.

Playing Chicken

There are a great many reasons I was so attracted to the idea of moving to Greece, some more personal and some more idiotic.  One that lies in the middle is the way I play chicken with people's affection.

When I told Supervisor that I was staying in Dallas, he accidentally cracked his neutral counselor's face and smiled.  Then he asked that we eat lunch together, where I discovered he had already planned the next three phases of my working at The Vale and the unique ways I could contribute to the team.  Oh my word, I cannot describe the warm glow of feeling wanted.

I called Wendy to update her on my decision.  "I would be happy if you stayed or went, if you continue growing or sit on the floor eating chips, but I have to say I'm glad you aren't moving halfway around the world," she said.  "I don't want that to--"

"No," I said.  "I need to hear that people would miss me."

"Tricia," she said.  "Of course I miss you.  I wish you would move back to Peoria and blah blah blah."

I couldn't hear the rest of what she said because I had started crying.  "Thank you," I garbled when she finished.  When she heard the tears in my voice, she started crying, and I thought, Oh my God, I'm doing it.  I was vulnerable in telling her what I needed, and she gave it to me, and now I'm crying and it's okay.  We still laughingly hung up with the promise that not every conversation had to make us feel things, but it was significant.

The point is, I think I play this desperate card out of a fear that no one actually cares about me.  "I'm moving to Senegal/Texas/Greece!" I declare.  And then I wait and see if anyone says, "No, don't!  Stay here!"  My word, what a manipulative way to gain scraps of affection.  Sometimes it works, but it's never enough.  There are too many supportive people who want me to follow God's leading, who say they are so excited for my opportunities.  Inevitably their well-meaning voices win, and I swerve out of playing chicken and pack up my bags.

This is not the only reason I move.  Not even close.  I genuinely think Tennessee, Senegal, and Texas were wonderful and necessary places of growth for me.  But I do wonder if I might not have left somewhere if enough people had screamed at me to stay.  I don't know.  I can't control other people, so I'm learning to offer up my neediness in vulnerability rather than passive aggressive stunts.  And I'm a lot more likely to grab a friend by the shoulders when they consider moving and say, "DON'T DO IT.  I will miss you desperately, and I don't want you out of my life.  I mean, maybe it's the best thing for you to do, and I will grudgingly support you no matter what, but just know that in my heart I will be so sad to see you go."

Decision

I'm staying in Dallas.

For two reasons, the first of which I mentioned in the blog post about my group therapy experience.  The second reason was an unintentionally thought-provoking statement by my brother.  We joke sometimes, trying to convince each other to move to our own city so we can live in the same place again.  "I just think you're unreliable," Roy said.  "If I moved to Dallas, within a month you would have decided to move somewhere else."

He wasn't wrong.  I kept turning the phrase over and over.  It made me laugh.  It made me feel good that he knows me so well.  It made me flinch, knowing that people see me as unreliable, and worse, that they are right to do so. 

A couple days ago I decided I didn't want to be that person.  Ever since I started looking for colleges, I have always had my eye on The Next Thing.  I don't let anywhere become my home because what if something new comes up?  I'm not averse to moving, and I haven't had some crazy change-of-personality...the idea of staying in Dallas for the rest of my life curdles my stomach.  But I'm deciding not to look for somewhere to move.  I'm deciding to say Dallas is my home, I will be at home here, this city is my home base.

As soon as I made that decision, I realized I had blown the Greece option out of the water.  Dina never once asked me to move to Athens.  She never said she wanted me there next summer.  Suddenly everything fell into perspective.  I do think this opportunity is uniquely suited to my interests and passions.  But the things that excite me most--blogging about it to raise awareness of her work, providing support to the staff--are things that fit nicely into a two-week trip.  A month.  I can stay in Dallas and take a month-long trip to Athens.  I don't have to move there.

It all seems very obvious from this side.  Three months of worrying and stressing... *eyeroll*