Hi, all!

This week I’m experiencing a flare-up of an old health issue. So I’ll keep this post short. Send flowers and love. Digital flowers and love work perfectly fine. They are perfectly beautiful.

And tell me: what setbacks are you coping with this month? We all experience them. It’s not a matter of being weak. It’s a matter of being human. So tell me your woes. And, my dear, here are some beautiful flowers and love, all for you.

Until next time,
Your friend,
Liza

Everyone knows that abuse is bad. The word itself has a terrible sound to it. Hearing it makes you want to run like hell. Why on earth would anyone put up with it?

The trouble is, abuse feels very different from the inside than from the outside. What from an outsider’s perspective looks like abuse often feels like confusion, fear, and shame from the inside. And, unfortunately, confusion, fear, and shame don’t prompt people to run like hell. They prompt people to hunker down and wait for the storm to pass. But abusive storms don’t tend to pass. They tend to stick around because, from the abuser’s perspective, life is more bearable when beating someone else down.

So here is a woman who grew up in a family with certain expectations. All families, of course, have them. The specific expectations this woman was bound to were confusing to her. She was obligated to be a good, supportive family member. She was happy to try to be that! But being a good, supportive family member, according to her family, meant certain things. And, as she grew older, she started to realize more and more clearly what those things were. Here were a few of them:

1. The information in books is part of a huge conspiracy. Why are you reading? Get back to work!
2. Do not, ever, go to a hospital or take a family member to a hospital—even in a dire emergency.
3. You’re a woman, so you shouldn’t roll up your sleeves, even if it’s swelteringly hot—you whore.
4. If a male member of the household threatens you with a knife, it’s because you deserved it.
5. If a male member of the household gives you a sprained ankle, it’s because you deserved it.
6. If a male member of the household breaks one of your bones, it’s because you deserved it.

You love and adore that male family member who sprained your ankle, broke one of your bones, and hurt you in other physical and emotional ways. You trust him. He is, on the whole, a good man. And he probably knows more than you; so if he treats you poorly, you are probably not worthy of being treated well. You should work on yourself. You are far from perfect. You are the problem.

Fortunately, as Tara Westover recounts in her memoir Educated, she was able to educate herself through an astounding combination of advice and help from other family members, illuminating college courses, advice and help from kindhearted people she met at her university, and a whole lot of book reading. Through a slow and often painful process, she finally recognized the abuse for what it was. And she finally felt the need to avoid her family.

But she was torn. She did not want to give up on her family. She wanted to go home on a regular basis, participate in holiday gatherings, and be the good daughter and sister she always wanted to be.

Multiple friends of mine commented to me that reading Educated was a frustrating experience for them. They didn’t understand why Westover kept going home, over and over, even after she realized that her family’s treatment of her constituted abuse. But I felt that I understood her dilemma perfectly. It’s important to think about things from her perspective: the inside perspective. She clearly loves her family. She clearly wants to do everything in her power to contribute to positive family dynamics.

But she also clearly loves the sovereignty over her life that her education gave her: her newfound, spectacular ability to recognize the facts of the situation, without merely getting caught up in the emotional knots her family was tying.

Westover was so torn by her dilemma, in fact, that she wrote her PhD dissertation on it. She studied historical texts with the goal of answering this question:

“What is a person to do . . . when their obligations to their family conflict with other obligations—to friends, to society, to themselves?”

And she comes to the conclusion that family obligations do not, cannot, automatically trump all other obligations. I am reminded here of the man suffering from schizophrenia who realized that he needed to estrange himself from his family in order to move toward better mental health. And so sometimes a person must sever ties so as to avoid severe damage to the self.

But there is an amazing silver lining here. Without giving away the end of Westover’s memoir—which is fabulous, by the way—I would like to note that people come out of the woodwork to support her. And back when she was attending the university, people similarly came out of the woodwork to help during times of desperation and need.

I don’t think this was just phenomenally good luck, though she did experience her share of that. I think that there are tons of good people in the world who are more than willing to help, if you are only able to recognize who they are, and that you might need it. People have come out of the woodwork in my life, and I’m sure they have in yours, as well. Sometimes it’s more about figuring out who in your life is being helpful and who is being harmful, and making decisions accordingly.

Surely we can no more condemn Westover for trying to keep up her family ties, than for ultimately letting them sever. Talk about a rock and a hard place. But this is the stuff real life is made of.

Who is in your woodwork, waiting to pop out and support you, even now?

Scenarios

1. One day my loved one announced a new household order. I am no longer allowed to drive, talk to anyone except my loved one, seek medical care, spend money without permission, or use electricity. I am only permitted to wear traditional clothing; I am only permitted to read books approved by my loved one. This feels restrictive and wrong. I am not used to this. On the other hand, I love and respect my loved one, and we have kids together. Should I say something to my loved one? Should I say something to someone else? Should I simply do as I am told?

4. One day I overheard my loved ones talking. They don’t like other members of the family, who are not present in this room. They have hatched a horrific plan, which may result in harm to those loved ones. Luckily, the plan has been preapproved, and in fact commanded, by a supremely divine force—the most important force in existence, certainly more wise and powerful than I am! Despite my love and adoration of my god, however, I am worried about those other family members. Should I say something to my loved ones who have hatched this horrific plan? Should I say something to my family members who may be in danger? Should I say something to someone else? Or should I simply talk to my god, leaving it in the hands of this all-knowing and supremely divine force?

Book

The above are real scenarios faced by real people. All are described in the book Under the Banner of Heaven by Jon Krakauer. Some of the people chose to say something. Others chose not to.

Outcomes

1. In the 1980s, Dan Lafferty imposed new household rules on his wife Matilda. She despised the rules, but ultimately accepted them, fearful that she would lose her children if she did not. Dan shared his beliefs and experiences with his brothers. Krakauer explains what happened next: “When three of Dan’s brothers attempted to impose these principles in their own homes, however, their wives refused and began to complain.”

2. In the 1830s, Joseph Smith, the founder of Mormonism, began to take plural wives. His first wife, Emma, was not okay with this. As Krakauer explains, “Outspoken by nature, Emma despised polygamy and did not hesitate to make her views known to the prophet. At one point she even threatened to take a plural husband if he didn’t give up his plural wives.”

3. This is the famous story of Elizabeth Smart, who is now an advocate, author, and public speaker. When she was 14 and in a horrific situation, she was terrified to speak out. Fortunately, she found the strength and courage to tell the police the truth after 45 minutes of questioning.

4. Under the Banner of Heaven tells the story of the 1984 murders of the wife and daughter of one of Dan’s brothers. Astonishingly, several people knew about the plot but did not share this information with another living human being. The above scenario is a composite of two people who did not tell: the husband and father; and the mother-in-law and grandmother. Another person who did not tell was a friend and associate of the brothers.

Verdict

Speaking out against people with power and influence is not an easy thing to do. I know how it feels to be paralyzed by fear. I also know how it feels to walk through the fear to the other side: how it feels to confront someone face to face and tell the truth. It’s terrifying. But it’s worth it, for the sake of people’s mental and physical health, and for the sake of a better future.

We might, as a mnemonic device, modify the very good and helpful U.S. security slogan, If You See Something, Say Something. How about this for a personal slogan? If You Hear Something, Say Something. When in doubt, it seems like a good policy to at least talk the situation over with some trusted friends. It’s hard sometimes to see a situation objectively on your own. An outside perspective or two can work wonders. And perhaps even prevent tragedies.

Does someone close to you have an idea that makes you feel uncomfortable? Have you thought to yourself, “Should I say something?” Have you said something? Will you say something?

Hello, fellow residents of our beautiful planet! I am writing this blog post from a cute Danish cafe in London. Here is a photo I took from my seat in the cafe. If you know me at least a bit, and if you look closely at the photo, you may be able to guess my favorite part of it. However, as that detail is rather inconsequential, let me tell you something of greater importance. Let me tell you how I got here.

Oops! How I got here is inconsequential, too. I flew. (That last sentence was a clue, RE the detail in the photo!) It was a long flight—at least for a travelphobe like me. I finished a book. Exciting! I love finishing books. But in the scheme of things, that was not so exciting, really, so let me please get to my point. Let me tell you why I got here.

Four months ago, as I explained in my post from January 25 called Dreams, I had a dream. I dream vividly most nights; but only the rare dream manifests as a sort of lesson-cum-guidepost, express from my unconscious mind.

In the dream, I bought a flight to London. I bought the ticket amidst a group of friends, as part of a special discount rate; but each of us was traveling separately, and I would be traveling alone. Once I arrived in London, I discovered that my family was staying in nearby rooms. However, I decided to ignore them, since they wanted to do things that I didn’t. What I really wanted to do while in London was see a performance at the Paris Opera House; and that’s what I was making plans to do when I woke up.

Strangely enough, this relates to the book I finished on the plane. I’ll be writing previews of that book shortly. This story about my dream and how it influenced my life will perhaps be useful as we try to piece together the central philosophical problem laid out in that book. But I am getting off track again! So here’s what happened next.

Upon waking, I understood that the dream was important, but I wasn’t sure what it meant. In full—that is, partial—disclosure, there was also a segment of the dream that pertained to my love life. I would not like to share the details; I would merely like to note that the dream had multiple significances to me. (A multiple significance, in case you were wondering, is somewhat similar to a multiple orgasm, except that it’s not just for women; but I am getting off track again!) And so, realizing that my unconscious mind may have been trying to tell my conscious mind something, I kept thinking about the dream.

Within a few days, I was astonished to realize that I wanted to take a solo trip to London and Paris. This might not seem like such an astonishing wish to you; lots of people want to go to London and Paris. It was shocking to me, however, because I have always been a travelphobe.

There were so many things about travel that frightened me. I was scared my plane would crash. I was scared I would get irredeemably lost in trying to navigate public transportation. I was scared I would lose my passport or get beaten or harrassed or raped. I was scared I would spend a ridiculous amount of money, only to instantly get homesick for my garden and birds (that was another clue!). I was scared I would be obliged to do something touristy that I didn’t want to do.

But most of all, I was scared that the jostling and angled sunshine and lack of sleep that are inherent to travel would trigger a migraine. As I explained in my post from December 26 called Medical Mysteries (Part 2), I have suffered from periodic migraines for my whole life. They always last exactly ten days. They are debilitating, involving level-10 pain, aversion to light and noise, expulsion of stomach contents, and much moaning and rolling around amidst bedsheets.

As I explained in that post from last December, I had been unexpectedly rescued by magnesium in an easily absorbable form. I had not experienced a ten-day migraine since beginning my vitamin supplement regimen; and that happy streak continues to this day.

A miracle! Was it a god of travel—perhaps Hermes, a.k.a. Mercury—who had come to my aid?! But I will stay on track with this story, I promise.

The point is, my unconscious mind had realized, long before the “I” that I’m better acquainted with did, that my recent deliverance from periodic migraine hell opened up the door for me to travel. It further realized that my dilapidated and largely nonexistent love life would be a boon to me while traveling, for I would not have to compromise on how I would spend my time. Moreover, it realized that London was a perfect destination for doing things I love to do—namely, enjoying literature and music. Finally, it realized that the Paris Opera House is not that far from London, in the global scheme of things; and what, it mused, is the point of middle age, if not to fulfill fantasies you had while 12 or 13 years old?

Yes—in my youth, I had an obsession with The Phantom of the Opera, both the book and the musical. So I am going to go see that old building where some of the events depicted really occurred (and where some, being romantic exaggerations, did not). And I’m going to do many other literary- and musical-type activities in Paris; and I’m going to attempt to say something comprehensible in the language, and to understand something someone says to me. Because my adult, conscious mind has realized that the Paris Opera House is merely a sentimental excuse to force me to venture very far outside of my comfort zone. To experience something that, sure, lots of people experienced at a much younger age, but I have not yet: to be alone in a faraway culture of people who speak a language that’s foreign to me.

Speaking of language—I have been enjoying hearing British accents all around me. This is not a “pigeon” English, but the genuine article. (That was your third and final clue! If you have not solved the puzzle by now, I fear there is no hope for you . . . though perhaps the answer will come to you in a dream.)

But back to the point. The point is that the human brain has both conscious and unconscious parts. Managing the interplay between the two of them, in my experience, is key to living wisely. To be solely led by one or the other is a grievous mistake. In conclusion, here is a view of the interior of the Danish cafe, behind me. There are no hidden secrets in this photo . . . at least not that I know of. Those are elsewhere. Has your unconscious mind spoken to you lately?

The memoir A Mind Unraveled, by Kurt Eichenwald, is astonishing in so many ways.

Anyone can run up against health problems and other major life difficulties, but Eichenwald’s story is uniquely interesting and instructive because of his attitude toward his struggles, as well as his phenomenal ability to analyze situations and make wise and brave decisions in even the worst of them.

His struggles were great. For years, doctors were unable to help him control his epileptic seizures. He could have one anywhere. When he had a seizure, people would often react with fear, ignorance about how to help, or hostility. Some of his college peers did not want to be his friend. Some of his college administrators did not want him to stay enrolled at the university. Some of his employers did not want him to remain working for them. One of his doctors told him that he should avoid stress by giving up on his education and career goals.

Fortunately, Eichenwald had an epiphany one day, while lying in a hospital bed:

“If I faced people who feared me or denied me work, I could control whether I gave up or tried to change their minds. I couldn’t force someone to hire me, but I could work hard, assembling a strong enough résumé to prove that I was a candidate worth considering. I couldn’t make someone love me, but I could be a person worthy of love. . . . I possessed more control than I had believed. Healthy people didn’t always understand the scope of how much could be overcome. I certainly never had before I got sick. As for what I didn’t control—the seizures, how others reacted to me—to hell with it. I could control how I reacted to the uncontrollable.”

Within this section, Eichenwald compares life to someone in an elevator. He notes that you can control whether you push a button, but you can’t control when, or whether, you will arrive. I like this metaphor a lot. I would like to offer another one, though, because life is so much more continuous and complicated than an elevator with its choice of maybe a dozen (or several dozen) buttons.

Life is being the dude or dudette sitting behind the audio mixer (a.k.a. mixing console) at a wild and large musical event. Your job is to control what the audio sounds like when it’s projected from the speakers.

There’s a lot you can control. The vast number of different buttons and levers before you would definitely baffle someone with less experience and intelligence than you. In fact, they baffle and overwhelm you at times. But if you concentrate on your task, you can create a good mix of musical sound.

There’s a lot you can’t control, though. If one of the musicians is playing off key, you can fiddle with the controls for that input, but you can’t change the fact that the musician is playing off key. If someone at that wild, live event knocks over a speaker and breaks it, you can’t control when or whether it will be replaced or fixed; you’ll simply have to proceed in broadcasting from just the working speakers.

I have read and experienced many times the truth, which Eichenwald also states, about the value of enduring hard times. When things are running smoothly, it’s tempting to sit back and enjoy the show, even if it’s not that great. But when things are going haywire? What, half of the musicians are drunk, and half of the speakers are malfunctioning? Then you’re faced with a choice. You can give up; or you can make some serious efforts to refine those controls to try to achieve the best outcome you can.

And, do you know what? Often times, the dude or dudette who’s putting the most, and most prolonged, effort into fiddling with the controls is the one who achieves the most awesome sound, regardless of the number and intensity of obstacles.

Is your life going smoothly? Or is something slightly off key? Or is everything totally haywire? No matter how easy or difficult your life is, you have the power to control many (though certainly not all) things. Are you fiddling with the buttons and levers of your audio mixer to try to maximize the quality of your sound?