It's not you, blogger, it's...ya, it's probably you.

After giving this a lot of thought, I've decided to make the complete switch from Blogger to Tumblr. For a while I've been posting onto both blogs, but that just seems like a lot of work. So, if you'd like to still keep up with what I'm (rarely, hopefully more frequently now) writing, then please follow me on my tumblr.
Peace out! See you on the other side.

Bad Advice: No One Can Love That

Romantic love is, allegedly, a battlefield. Also, love stinks. Tina Turner isn’t sure what love’s got to do with “it,” and Ali MacGraw (wrongly) claimed love means never having to say you’re sorry. Oh yeah, and apparently love is also patient and kind. Seems simple enough. Love is abstract. It is confusing and indefinable, and it elicits a response somewhere deep in the muscles and behind the gut that feels both empowering and maybe a little icky. To be clear, I want to emphasize that I’m talking about romantic love. Because the other sorts of love, parental, child-to-parent, friendship, familial, pet, fandom, those kinds of love don’t seem to require as much work. They are either so much a part of us that they make us feel alive, or they serve a purpose, enrich a moment, and then they gently fade away. But romantic love, that kind of love is made up of frayed live wires and ice cream. It’s a teddy bear stored in a box made from razor blades. It’s a 10,000-piece puzzle with nothing to guide you, a dozen missing pieces, and a perfect picture that keeps shifting with every piece put into place.

Or maybe it’s not. I don’t really know what love is, and I don’t think anyone else does either. That’s why it is the muse for most great works of art. Love is a house of mirrors where every surface can only reflect a metaphor.

Relationships, on the other hand, those can be defined and understood. I may not have any truth to share about love, but I do have something to say about romantic relationships. And what I have to say is this: Facebook, Pinterest, and any other media that compartmentalizes relationships, they are doing a disservice to people who are trying to have a healthy relationship. Knock it off, Photoshoppers!
A long time ago I read something on Pinterest that upset me so much I obsessed about it. I went back and read this horrible piece of “advice” written in cursive on a cream-coloured poster background over and over until I had to stop because it was affecting my blood pressure. I submit it to you here:

Relationships do not get easier. Every day is a struggle. Every day is a battle. It doesn’t get easier with time. In fact, it gets harder. The secret is finding someone who’s willing to be weak and strong with you at the same time. The secret is finding someone who’s willing to work with you and who will push you, challenge you, make it harder for you to leave. The beauty is in the struggle.

You heard it, folks. Every day is a struggle, and it will only get harder. But that’s ok, because you’re going to be with someone who is at his or her weakest at the same time as you. Won’t that be helpful? As this storybook co-dependent relationship goes on you can measure your success on how hard it is for you to leave. Because, remember kids, the beauty is in the struggle. What…the…fuck?

Another cause of my developing nervous tick is the horrible Facebook groups I keep seeing that offer sharable bits of disaster fuel for the relationship fire. One in particular that gets my heartstrings in a knot is “Tears are the Last Gift of Love.” What the hell is that? Can someone please tell me where the hell this came from? I only committed about 4 minutes to Google searching trying to find the source of this little gem before I had to give up because there are only so many alternate spellings using the letter “z” or capital “U”s that I can stand. But, come on now, in what universe is a sentiment like this healthy?

Here are some of my favourite tidbits from this group. Disclaimer: all these quotes are copied directly with the same spelling, grammar, and capitalization. The only thing I added was shame.

“Relationship never dies a natural death…They are murdered by Ego, Attitude, and ignorance.”
“Someone who really Loves you sees what a mess you can be, how moody you can get, how hard you are to handle, but still wants you in their Life.”
“It is better to cry alone than to be angry, Because anger hurts others, while tears flow silently through the soul and washes the heart.”
“I never stoped loving you…I just stopped showing it…..”
“I want a relationship where we talk like best friends, play like kids, argue like husband and wife, and protect each other like siblings..!”
“One day you will miss me.”
“U’ll Not Change Urself 4 Anyone…BUT You Wil Be Automatically Changed When You Are Addicted Toward Someone!”
“I nEvEr fEeL aLoNe, bCuZ lOnLiNeSs iS aLwAyS wId me………….”
“One thing I am absolutely certain, I can’t live this life without you.”

To me, it seems like these quotes are written by young romantics who are recently single, raised on princess expectations, and trapped in the turret prison of their imaginations looking out over a landscape of idealized fantasy. I believe in love at first sight, I believe in true love, but I don’t believe in relationship at first sight, and I believe true love is honest love. These Internet cards are depicting a glossy, airbrushed version of love that is not only unrealistic, but it’s also inhumane. Please, listen to me when I tell you that a great relationship should not, by definition, get harder as it goes on. Don’t qualify your relationship on whether the person you’re with still wants to be with you despite your moodiness. Don’t cry alone. Don’t consider loneliness your companion. Sometimes a relationship simply does “die a natural death,” and that’s ok. Do not collect these experiences like badges for the heart.

I’m still young. I don’t have all the answers. I don’t have the perfect relationship. In fact, this year my relationship was tested more than I ever thought possible. At this very moment I am more confident in my relationship and more in love than I have ever been before. I know something about a committed relationship, and it does not look like a blurry couple sharing a kiss on a beach with an inspirational quote in the foreground. So to all the Photoshoppers out there, all the Pinterest pinners, here are some new thoughts for your walls and boards.

True love is honest love. Be honest, and be thankful when you receive honesty in return.

Relationships are not about sacrifice they are about problem solving.

Commit to your love for as long as you love your commitment.

Build your relationship as you would build your house—comfortable and reflective of your personality and lifestyle. Most importantly, take the time to make it liveable. You wouldn’t move into a home that was only scaffolding, so don’t move into a relationship that hasn’t yet been built.

Don’t expect to love someone more than you have ever loved anyone immediately after meeting. And if you do, don’t expect it to last. Instead, enjoy the slow build-up.

Real love is holding a conversation with your partner while ignoring that stupid butt-dance she does when a pop song comes on.

Real love is smelling your partner’s armpit to assure her she doesn’t stink.

Real love is planning simultaneous life dreams that may not be fully compatible, knowing that each partner will support the other because that’s just what life is like in this household.

Real relationships are not measured by number of butterflies in the stomach or length of doe-eyed gazes, but by the amount of confidence in your partner.

Real relationships are not guided by short quotes but by long considerations. Doesn’t such an important decision in your life deserve a great deal of thought?

Perhaps I’m being hypocritical now, offering relationship advice after bemoaning bits of bad relationship advice. I suppose writing this post has shown me just how tempting it is to provide words of wisdom about love. Ultimately we all want to find that someone with whom to share our lives. So I’ll finish by asking, do you want to share Photoshopped trading cards about love, or do you want to share healthy and positive experiences with another person for as long as it remains healthy and positive?

Here's what I think of the Dove commercial and its responses

The latest viral advertisement has me thinking a lot. I'm sure you've seen it. If not, I'll wait six minutes. Off you go. If you’d rather not click the link, or you've seen the video but need a refresher—Dove has been at it again.

Dove's "Real Beauty Sketches" commercial features a scant warehouse-type building where a number of women describe their appearance through soft camera lenses while violin music plays in the background. A forensic artist draws these women as they describe themselves, then he draws the same women the way a stranger describes them after a brief introduction. The resulting images are, obviously, quite different. The message? Women don't see their own beauty. Women need to triumph their natural beauty. Women are more beautiful than they give themselves credit for.

The day after I saw that video a blog post began popping up on Facebook, generating as much of a reaction as the commercial. I really enjoyed that blog post, and I'm now following the author on Tumblr. If you haven't yet read jazzylittledrops' response to the Dove "Real Beauty Sketches" commercial, I strongly encourage you to do so. Again, I'll wait. Clicky clicky.

I admit, when I first saw the commercial I had the emotional reaction Dove probably spent tens of thousands to squeeze from me. I'm not ashamed to say I'm a little sentimental. I like to see people change. I like to see people brought to smile. I cue the tears when the music swells.

Perhaps I'm a product of culture, but I'm not totally gullible. There was something about that commercial that didn't sit well with me. It was too fabricated, too one-sided, too obvious. The forensic artist initially drew wider chins, baggier eyes, broader noses. He also drew shadows over their portrait souls. Many faces with broad noses and wide chins have eyes that burn with spirited fire, but not the faces in those portraits.

This commercial uses a classic "before and after" display. The first images were heavy with doubt, exhaustion, negativity. There was nowhere to go but up after that. The forensic artist drew the second picture with airs of cheer and energy. True, the faces were all thinner, with more slender or angled features, but what stood out to me was the second pictures and not the first, were drawn with smiles. That was a stylistic choice of the forensic artist, not the describer.

And where were the women who described themselves according to the features they love? I refuse to believe that those women were not part of this "experiment." Unless, of course, this was a fabrication and not an experiment. And that's where I see the problem. This was not a social experiment recorded and reported, it was advertising—a spare-no-expenses demonstration of modes of persuasion.

After I finished watching that video I dried my eyes, blew my nose, and reposted. I liked the message I easily interpreted—don't be so hard on yourself—but as with so many things, I took it with a grain of salt. So my repost came with some pithy commentary. "Oh Dove, if anyone is going to get me with carefully constructed rhetoric, I'm glad it's you."

The next day a brilliant friend of mine, whose opinion I highly respect, shared jazzylittledrops' blog, accompanied by a resounding "YES!" I read the blog post and immediately thought, oh shit, was I duped by the establishment?

I agree with much of that post's argument. I'm grateful that the author took the time to really deconstruct the commercial and expose those perpetuated stereotypes. Dove's advertising targets an important but sadly capitalized appeal, and if they are going to trumpet the cause then they should be held to a high standard of accountability and transparency. But something about that blog post troubled me as well. It took me longer to figure out what it was compared to what bothered me about the original commercial, but I think I finally have it.

I don't think criticisms of presentations like the Dove "Sketches of Beauty" commercial should breed dissonance. In fact, I'd like to be clear that I think the author, Jazz, does a very good job of presenting both the positive and negative sides of this commercial. Her subsequent responses to supporters and critics reveal that she is mindful that on some level the Dove commercial aims for a good message, but misses its mark.

I worry about the real-world efficacy of the way we write criticism. The structure of her argument is very familiar. We all do it. "This is interesting, but..." I believe this preface creates that polarity I worry about. Friends of mine who have reposted this blog do so with pointedly averse opinions of the Dove commercial. I'm concerned that the "but" approach to criticism draws a line in the sand. Instead, I think we should criticize this content with good old-fashioned positive reinforcement. This commercial was interesting AND…

This commercial was interesting, and I think Dove can go further. This commercial was thought provoking, and I think if Dove were to authentically conduct this experiment it would generate even more constructive discussion. This commercial made some good points, and I think that Dove could do better at making those points accurately represent the problems that women face with identity and perception. This commercial was a good idea on paper, and I think if Dove focused more on truth and less on commercial manipulation they could be a real leader in change and consequently sell more shampoo.

While there are problems with this commercial—I saw some, the author of jazzylittledrops saw others—it was a good conversation starter. I worry that we might all slip into deconstructive brain stomping (that is a theoretical term, by the way), if we automatically put on our skeptic hats and dismiss the ad as a failure altogether. Instead, I would love for this brief moment while we've all come down with the Dove Real Beauty Sketch virus, before our online immunity kicks in and we forget all about this, we focus on how this might facilitate positive change, AND what should happen next.

Grief thoughts

In 2012 I learned a lot of things. I learned how to crochet little baby hats with ears and horns. I learned the process and ceremony of dressing a stag in the forest in the fourteenth century. I learned at least a couple dozen symbols for alchemical mercury. I learned that I am smarter than I thought I was, more stubborn than I expected, and more vulnerable than I ever imagined. Most unexpectedly (because who ever expects something like this) I learned about grief. Grief hurts more than broken limbs, severe cuts, migraines, infections, any other pain I've ever felt. Grief is blind pain.

I went blind. I couldn't see my own confidence anymore. I couldn't find my optimism. I lost sight of my strengths. I started groping in the fog for distractions, tricks to keep me from facing reality. I made unfair demands on people who were unprepared or unwilling to deal with my broken self. I turned my back on the people who loved me unconditionally and only wanted to see me happy. I complicated everything. My poor choices were like a drug. I didn't have to cry over my grief if I could cry over my own self pity. It didn't matter if I was drunk or dramatic, I numbed myself. In a grotesque way, while I didn't do this, I think I understand now why people cut themselves. The damage I was doing to myself caused me to both feel something, and kept me from feeling anything at the same time. I kept breaking myself to keep myself from feeling the sting of healing. God, our minds are messed up things.

When all the bullshit finally stank enough for me to climb out of my mess, I couldn't believe what I'd done or what I'd become. I was just animated pain. A walking, talking, barely breathing, mass of gasping crying pain. My people who love me tell me not to be embarrassed, but it's going to take a while before I finally forgive myself for the damage I caused.

I'm trying very hard not to make this read like an amateur self-help post, or worse, an angsty journal entry. But this situation sucked. It really really sucked! You can't truly understand tragedy until it tears away at your heart.

I still don't know what makes it better. Time, I suppose. But I'm starting to remember, or rediscover, the things that make me feel good.

Prayer, or meditation or affirmations or whatever. Connecting to the part of life that is quieter and more meaningful than the surface. I rediscovered prayer and I'm grateful for it. It's getting easier.

Love. That complicated, inexplicable thing that naturally falls into place. The love of my family, my friends, my husband. The greatest feeling is reawakening to real love.

Confidence. Not doubting everything, especially myself. And remembering to listen to my truth.

Acceptance. Lord, grant me the serenity to accept things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

This is a hard week. Jordan's birthday is on Wednesday. The end of February marked six months. My family and I still wake up in that thick fog of the nightmare. We all still make blind mistakes. Sometimes the pain still feels unbearable. But I'm finally starting to open my eyes and see the glint that will eventually line the fog silver. The pain sometimes starts to feel like the raw type that comes with healing.

Thank you so much to my people. To the ones who have held me delicately when I kept trying to crumble. To the people who patiently helped glue me back together. To those who will start over and over and over picking up the pieces of me when I start to fall apart. Thanks for seeing me when I couldn't see a thing.

Here's to scabs and scars. Healing is messy business.