Anger

Jean Grey.  I feel like her.  Losing control of everything and destroying everyone she loves in the process.

I'm dealing with anger.

I cussed out my best friend last week.  I scared myself when I re-read what I had written.  I decided to not talk to him until I found the cause of all of my anger and reprogrammed my brain.

This is what I found - the ROOT of my anger:  I'm afraid of being alone, growing old alone, and dying alone.  

I never had this problem when my son was small.  I was his world.  It felt good to be loved and needed.  Now he's a teenager and he doesn't really want to be around me.  (He doesn't hate me or anything, just wants to be alone.) Both of my best friends are across the planet, one in Switzerland, and the other in Africa.  I never see them, eat dinner with them, watch movies with them.  Just texts and emails.  I miss them so much.

It's a precious thing to have another human being, who isn't related to you, who wants to see you, relies on you, and enjoys your company.  When you can't have that, life hurts.  Breathing hurts.

What also hurts is being alone in a group of friends.  I have lots of Christian friends.  They all talk about Jesus, prayer and the Bible.  I'm not a Christian, far from it.  I never feel included when they start talking about their beliefs.  It's an instant door slammed in my face.  A giant "You don't belong" sign.  Some try to convert me, like I'm broken or something.  That hurts, too.  I'm not broken.  I don't know how to resolve this yet.

Adding to all of my anger, and keeping me far from the inner peace I need to keep me positive, is my job stress.  I recently found out that 4 other people had my job, and quit.  They didn't just find better jobs, they ran from this job, sometimes crying.  One woman said she would cry on the way to, and from work because of our boss.  I'm near this point.  I am surrounded by negativity or incompetence. It makes dealing with anger overwhelming.  I don't know yet how I'm going to handle this.

My emotions as of late have been jealousy, paranoia, feelings of isolation, and bitterness.  I know 3 or more people in my daily life who show all of these things.  They have made my life difficult lately.  I look at them and pity them.  I am afraid to become like them, but that's where I was last week.   Jealous, paranoid, cussing at people I love.  That is why I was so scared.  I can NOT end up like them.  I forbid it.

Jean yelling at Wolverine.  Yep.  That was me last week.  I scared myself :(

I've started to build an arsenal of things to combat my stress and make me resilient (DoD buzzword) and Semper Gumby.  I've gone back to my past when I was 6 years old- happy, strong, smart, and tried to reanimate that girl.  I went back to college when I was independent, surrounded by great friends, learning about my world, and attractive.  Reactivating her, too.

I also have reactivated my inner analyst.  I'm deconstructing each negative emotion.  Writing in a notebook when I catch myself angry, jealous, hurt, and asking "Why?" I see if it makes sense.  Usually it's rooted in fear.  Then I look at it with logic.  Write down a solution.

I'm also identifying what I can't control.  Unmovable obstacles.  PMS is one of them, and the biggest arsonist in my anger.  It's unpredictable and lightning fast and dangerous to my mind.  My coworkers are another.  Religion is another.

This was week 1.  We'll see how week 2 goes.

Undiagnosed?

I think that dealing with autism makes you see it quickly in others. I see lots of folks with mild autism walking around in El Segundo. It's the geek gene and the aerospace industry is ride with it.

It's frustrating to see it in kids, though. You don't know if the parents have gone through the diagnosis process or not, so you can't judge what skills they are or are not using.

The family downstairs from me has a monster of a child. This child is loud, with massive tantrums and seems to scream nonstop. Yet I never hear good verbal ability from the little guy, so it may be he's autistic in some degree. That's unfortunate even if it is incredibly annoying. He problem is, tat the mother and father seem to be clueless. They disregard all social norms regarding privacy and boundaries with their kids. If this poor little guy is autistic, he has a poor chance of getting a leg up if the parents are oblivious.

Poor kid.

Stupid, Crazy, Goal and Going White Wizard

One of the things I wanted to do when I was a little girl was to be a pilot.  Saw Star Wars and wanted my own X-Wing fighter.

Luke!  Not as twisted or pretty as Kara Thrace (Starbuck), but flying something just as cool.

Dad was in the Air Force, so I saw him in a flight suit for most of my childhood.   I put the two together and figured that, by the time I was in my 20's, I would be commissioned and flying something that went out into the galaxy.  (I also dreamed I would also be living in a cool apartment on a hill overlooking the California Coast.  I acquired the last 2 goals 2 years ago.  2 for 3, baby.  Not too bad.)

Fast forward a few decades, (3 to be exact) and I am trying to attain a portion of that goal.  My age and job kept me from flying  A-10's or SR-71s, but I am still able to shoot for a job as part of the crew in an Air Force aircraft.  I am Combat Camera.  I will be expected to fly in anything.  The flying combat camera personnel are trained as aircrew.  If the pilots and engineers are trained in something, we train in that, too.

That's where I am now.  Training.

There's a catch, though.  At 42, I am continually the oldest person in my classes.  However, I am also surrounded by handsome, intelligent men in flight suits, which does a great job of distracting me from the fact that I am not as strong physically as the rest of these kids.  I'm a woman, so my upper body is puny.  My lung capacity is smaller.  The same pack on a big guy is twice as heavy to me, yet I have to carry it just as fast and far.

I can usually handle this difference in workload.  As a single, working mom I am used to carrying twice the workload while the guys next to me whine like little babies.  Military training is a bit different, though.  The physical component is brutal to my small frame, and I really have to use my brain to accelerate my physical recovery.  (I do this by meditating when I can, and doing deep breathing.)

So far, I have done alright.  One more rigorous training to go and I will have this goal within my grasp.  I am nervous, but I feel I have just the right balance of respect, stubborn pride, and chutzpah to pull it off.  Right now, though, I think that I have completed the training bear that I feared the most - underwater egress training.

IN 1992 I almost drowned.

Some brave soul kayaking the Umpqua.  Beautiful river, some tricky, dangerous places.

Flipped upside down in a kayak and got stuck in a strong eddy.  I panicked, took in two gulps of water and saw that I was going to die.  I saw the world get dim and quiet.  The thing that kept me from drowning was the idea that I would leave my mother with my funeral and I couldn't do that.  I seemed to shut off at that point and pulled myself free in a kind of dream.  I was somewhat transformed at that point.  White wizard.  I never took small things for granted.  I remember clearly taking a shower and marveling at the sun shining through the water dripping from my hands.  Life was much more precious.  I have never had trouble swimming or going underwater since then, but I have always feared drowning.  That is why this training I finished a couple of days ago was such a huge test for me.  I had to revisit that memory and re-conquer that fear.

The class was very typical at first.  I had to prove I could swim and did so by the skin of my teeth.  I'm a good swimmer, but being nervous about what was about to happen made my lungs less than cooperative.  I pushed through the urge to surface and made it through that first hurdle.  The next hurdle was harder.  Without going into too much detail, I was required to be upside down, supress the urge to freak out, and breathe calmly with an apparatus.  This activity uncovered my memory of drowning. I breathed in water again.  I could feel it in my lungs again.  And then I had to breathe with this odd thing in my mouth, an equally eerie sensation.  I did panic a bit.  I know I did.  I could feel my body convulse  and I was forcefully yelling at myself in my mind, "Control!  Control!"

Ugh.  I had to beat this beast.  I wasn't going to let this stupid fear keep me from what I wanted.  So I tried it again.  Better.  Better seal.  Better understanding of what I was doing.  Better control.  My instructor said, "Focus on the breathing.  In.  Out."  My zen master in a bathing suit, this guy was. I actually forced myself to focus on the breathing.  It worked.  I did it.  Thanks to a very clever and patient instructor and my stubborn will, that did it.

That small victory carried me to the next task.  This was bigger.  Underwater and strapped into a ...thing.  What a few minutes of pure suck.  I embraced it.  Embraced the suck.  And I did it.

Looks like fun, huh.

Final hurdle -  underwater, without an apparatus, strapped inside a fake helicopter, and I had to find my way out without seeing anything.

Becoming one with the suck.

What a nightmare.  And I did it.  I friggin' did it.  First time.  No re-do, baby.

By the time I was done with the class, I was actually having fun and totally on autopilot.  No panic.  Textbook egresses.  Holy friggin' cow.

I came back to the administration desk, grabbed my certificate, and stared at it for a minute.  I think it took a while to sink in.  I came back to my room, took a nice hot shower and spent the next two days dealing with sore lungs and chlorine-burned sinuses.

So.  On to the next painful training.  I will no doubt be changed by this next episode, as well.  I think I will be on dry land for most of it, though.

14 JAN 2012

Last night I was on facebook chatting with 3 males in my life who have been very important to how I view their gender.  One was my dad, the next my ex-husband, and the last was a good friend.  I'm thinking now about how they are similar and different.

My dad is a very smart, but somewhat traditional Latino male.  He probably has a genius IQ.  I'm pretty sure of that, considering his gift in music and analysis. That's great, because I know I have inherited some of these traits and so has my son.  The problem is I am a girl.

Ok, woman.

Women are not equal to men or boys in Latino society.  They are supposed to be wives, mothers, ever pregnant, ever submissive.  (With my mother as strong willed as she is it's no surprise she left. I fault neither of them, though.)  I don't think Dad ever gave me the same attention he would have a son.   What hurts more is that he almost had a son.  My little brother, Dennis Andre Rivera, died only a few days after he was born.  This had to be heartbreaking.  I'm glad I was too young to remember that moment.  I did, however, have to live with the consequences to our family.

It is only through my persistence that my relationship with him is active.  This took many decades of constantly proving that I am a strong woman, independent and worthy of the same praise any man should get.   Now my dad is reaching out to his my son.  Since Dad is a bit of a nerd and computer geek, as is my son, they are starting to talk more through social networking.  Dad just got an XBox with an online account.  He's dang near 70!  I'm hoping that he and my son will find communication easier than it was for me and Dad.

My EX.  What can I say?  He's still family.  We met in Army.  Same platoon, different squad.  In Korea.  He was the tall funny one who had an accurate and predatory sense of humor.  After 3 years I began to see that I was not going to California, like he promised.  I was, in fact, going to spend the rest of my days in a small central New York town where the winters are bleak and grey and cold.  I would not be treated like a friend anymore, just furniture to have sex on. I tried to conform to that life for the sake of our marriage and son, and realized that to do that I would have to lose my soul.  I started to have violent horrid nightmares and fell into depression, because of the marriage.  It was like the end of Private Benjamin where she realizes her new husband doesn't treat her with any of the respect she deserved, and worked for.  He was not a compromiser as such.  I left him after the second attempt.

His second marriage just ended. I never really asked for the details.  I felt for the guy, but I know his MO.  Our relationship is back to "fellow platoon member".  He's still family, but now I feel no guilt or emotion, I feel I owe him nothing, but wish him well.

My buddy.  Not much to say.  Probably the most dynamic and possibly healthiest relationship I've had with a male.  He has a massive personal wall around him but is as friendly as a cartoon polar bear.  The easiest way to describe our friendship is like that of a couple of cops.

Benson and Stabler, Law and Order SVU

Partners.  I have his back and he has mine.  We have separate lives, with separate potential spouses, but I can tell him anything.  I'm not afraid to be me or say something offensive within reason.  He's seen me at my absolute worst, and I've seen the stupid, upset and clueless side of him.  He lets me into parts of his mind I think others don't know about.   Just like a couple of cops.  Mulder and Scully, Benson and Stabler, Eames and Goren, Linden and Holder, Bert and Ernie, (except the last 2 aren't cops, right? ;)  It is the most unusual and healthiest relationship I've had with a male.

That makes me wonder if the next guy in my life is really going to be just a "partner".  I am self-reliant, at this point, so I don't need a man to pay bills.  I just need that companionship with some freedom to work and achieve my personal goals.  Being a subordinate wife won't allow that.

11 JAN 2012

Beauty in religion.

I have posted 2 rather not so flattering views of religions and now I need to balance that.  I can use my "religion friends" as examples.  One the best friends I have ever had was the result of meeting a mutual friend.  She is very religious.  She is a Christian.  She was sitting in the dining hall freshman year and just started talking to me about curly hair. (She has gorgeous dark curly hair.) Well, she was so happy and so friendly, I instantly loved the girl.  She invited me to a Baptist Student Union volley ball game and I said I'd go.  I did and while I was there I met Emily McGuckian and Yung Hae Kim, two of the most wonderful women I have had the privilege to know on this earth.

At this point in my life I wasn't very religious and felt something was out there, but was skeptical by this now.  Cynthia, however, lived for Jesus.  She still does, I think.  She is even still active in FCA, Fellowship of Christian Athletes.

Through out  my life since college I have met several people who were very strong in their faith.  Most of them are Christian.  They are compelled to do the right thing based on the words of the Bible.  My grandmothers, rest their souls, devout Catholic and Southern Baptists gave thanks to God, Mary and Jesus for everything.  Now, many of my closest friends are way deep in their faith (see earlier post) or very strong, at least.

This is what I have noticed in all of them:
-Service to others.  They donate time, money, energy all to help their fellow man in service to God.
-Patience.
-Reaching out to those less fortunate.
-Positive thinkers.
-Appreciate beauty in nature.  A favorite trait of mine.
-They want what is good for others.

These are GREAT qualities in any person.  Religions reinforce these qualities over and over.  The moral framework that is fostered by religions keep society running in a positive direction.  It gives humanity boundaries and keeps us all in check, basically.

It's weird for me to speak both negatively and positively about religions.  It's a weird place to be.  I love my friends and I know that the same religion I have issues with is the same one that makes them who they are  and I would never ever want to change that.  I would never want them to lose it.  It may not be my religion, but it affects my life for better or worse and I react to it and learn from it.

10 JAN 2012

Was reminded today that a dear friend of mine comes from an extreme religious belief system.

The embracing of death as an escape from "suffering" here on earth is extreme.  To me there is no difference between a Muslim groomed to believe that death brings with it the promise of reward in the "next life" and an extreme Christian who views death as an escape from suffering.  (Note this article.) It's deeply sad.  It is the symptom of people in depression.  They feel sad, it seeems.  They are depressed and feel there is no escape.  But they keep themselves in whatever situation they are in.  Depression.  It's not religion, it's depression.  Passed down from generation to generation.

It's sad to think that there are people who feel that all the beauty on this planet is substandard to something promised to them in another world.  To me, that is a group of people who are unhappy with their situation, feel powerless to change it (but actually can), so they make up a better place in their minds to go to.  If your belief system denies you all the pleasure of this world, well hell, of course another existence is better.

How do I move respectfully around this as a friend?  I see these friends denying themselves such a wonderful existence here on this beautiful planet because their whole family or community believed something, so they (probably) feel they have to do the same.

Death is not an escape.  It leaves the rest of us who love these extremists to bear the burden of what is left. We have to take on their responsibilities left behind.  We have to bury them. We have to have the nightmares, not them.  We have to cry, not them.  It's a selfish thing.

I would never subject my son to that view of life.  I would never ask him to view the beauty in the night sky and then tell him his is nothing compared to something else.  It disrespects the intricate beauty of his existence and the beauty around him right then and there.  It debases the important things he is doing now.  I would never let my son feel that his life, in this moment, was less important than anything in the future.  Every breath he takes is precious, each one equally to the last.

I think what frightens me is that I see symptoms of depression in this friend, and the family doesn't seem to see it.  I see red flags in things he says, but it seems to be interpreted as religious parlance to them.  I have also heard my friend say things that make me suspect he feels abandoned by them. It hurts so much and I feel so powerless.

My friends who are extreme would say, "You don't understand."  That is a possibility.  But I think I do understand.  I see that they are probably... "conditioned", and most likely clinically depressed, and that it is sad, but I still love them all. They have created a happy future place to go to when life gets hard so that they can give up on life and not feel guilt.  The rest of us just change our situation and keep going, learning more as we go.  But we have to bury these dead.  They will selfishly leave us that burden. I don't agree with that.

02 Jan 2012

I talk about my day, religion, and how it feels to be an outsider as a "non-believer".

Had a great time at the Rose Parade. Small hassles here and there, but I can't get upset or even stressed about the fact that I got to see people filled with positive energy, and I fed off of that.  My betazoid self really enjoyed that.  Getting paid was kinda nice, too.

Got to chat with my buddy before he left.  Made sitting traffic much easier.  Made that goodbye part of his journey easier.

When I came home my dad called.  The call was overall positive, but he did something he's always done - taken a task I've done and pointed out a way I could have done it better instead of saying "you did a good job".  It wasn't a bad thing.  He was only offering advice, but it is something that has always annoyed me.  Luckily it was a short lived thing and I was happy he called because it meant that he was proud in some way.  That was his way of interacting with me.  He NEVER calls us.  I am the one who always calls.  So, even with the small bump, it was ok.

Later in the evening I was reminded of the fact that I am different.  I hate that.  I know I am not like the masses.  I have always felt like an outsider, but I don't always need to be reminded of that.  The culprit tonight was a group I've seen pop up from time to time, but tonight I saw that I was left out of the group.    Crafting for Jesus.  My friend, Wendy Day heads it, I think.  I like her.  She's always seemed like a "different" person like me.  Two of my other friends were invited, maybe more.  This isn't something I feel was deliberate.  These are good people.  I am not sure what they do, but I can safely assume they are making stuff for people while socializing, and somehow Jesus is involved.  Making stuff for others is always a nice thing.

This isn't a complaint against anyone.  What it is, is my perception of how it feels to be an outsider among a large group of people.  This is something that slaps me in the face a lot.  I have many, many friends that are Christian.  A good chunk of the US is Christian.  They are all over the place.  I, however, am not.

I was raised Roman Catholic.  I went to Catholic school.  I am thankful for this.  I was lucky to have a wonderful education, and religion classes were like ethics classes, something children and teens need.  That good education gave me the mental tools to analyze my world and make informed logical conclusions.  I eventually spent 1 semester at Catholic University. Ironically, this was the time, and place - in religion class - that I decided to stop believing in a god.  Our professor made us read Mircea Eliade's The Sacred and the Profane.  This book solidified my feeling that religion and the concept of "god" was a human invention, and that is all.

This change in belief structure wasn't an overnight thing. In 7th grade, Nija Koutnik, my friend from Mercy Cross HS in Biloxi, Mississippi, told me she didn't believe in the devil or hell.  I was scared at first.  Raised, as I was, never to question the Bible, I found statements like that scary.  But when I heard her argument, something I've forgotten, it made sense.  And I could not refute the logic in it.  My inner Vulcan said, "That's logical."  This began a schism in my belief system.  Logic and science vs religion.

Here's my opinion about religion:

• Humans are scared of what they can't explain or don't know.  Through history they have created a catch-all answer for these things.  
• These deities take on attributes of fathers or mothers depending on the societies' tolerance of women or the importance they assign to fertility and birth.
• Humans don't like change, so even if the evidence shows that what happens has a scientific basis, they will do what they feel comfortable with, not change.
• Religion creates a moral template for a society.  It gives humans boundaries.  This is a good thing, even if it is not my thing.
• Religion really is the opiate of the masses.  It keeps humans calm when they are stressed and gives them hope.
• Humans tend to define themselves by their religion.
• Humans will do very, very, illogical things for their religion.
• Humans will kill for their religion.

Some of those things are good, some are bad.  I'm not writing anything new here.

I am losing mental structure.  I have been up since 3 am.  I need sleep (see last posting).

I want to talk about these things, describe why I feel like I do before someone judges me and writes me off.  I need to put these things in a document and get them off my chest.  But I have to be more awake.

I want to talk later about:

-What I DO believe

-How I perceive Christianity and other religions

-How I perceive the man called Jesus, Buddha, and Allah

-What I adore about some Christians, and other religious people

-What I really abhor about some Christians and other religious people

-What I think will happen to religion

-History of religions and the importance of the source of the information

But I need sleep.