2010 Hindsight
A Year of Spiritual Growth, In Spite of Myself
By Sharon E. Cathcart
Copyright Sharon E. Cathcart, 2011
Published at Smashwords
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Acknowledgment and Appreciation
Acknowledgment and Appreciation
Many thanks to Molly, Stacia and Martha, for all I learned from them.
Ah, 2010. We in so-called Western Civilization do love our tidy little decades, don’t we? That’s why it seemed like a perfect time for me to accomplish two New Year’s Resolutions: to learn French cookery and to get in shape. Instead, I found myself on a path of spiritual growth, despite my own best efforts. I keep a weblog, or “blog,” and it chronicled some of the things I learned along the way. The blog entries are unedited, with the exception of correcting typographical errors. (Be advised that I sometimes lapse into obscenity, and that I deal with adult matters in this book.)
Jan. 12th, 2010 at 8:40 AM
-- I can no longer read the Prop 8 coverage on the Sacramento Bee website; the attendant hate speech makes my stomach churn. I'll be reading on www.prop8trialtracker.com, which is a service provided by the wonderful Courage Campaign. I wish I had some spare $$ to give them right now.
-- I agreed to provide an essay for Angie Bowie's (yes, that Angie Bowie) "AIDS Begone" writing project, the end result of which will be a book that is sold to benefit AIDS research. See www.angiebowie.net for more information. By the way, Angie is amazing.
***
One of the earliest lessons I learned in 2010 was to mitigate my own personal damages. If I wanted to remain in a compassionate space, I could no longer afford the mental energy that went with combating zealous ignorance. Zealous ignorance has no desire to change, to learn something new. Better that I spend my energy and time in places that might make a difference.
Proposition 8 was the ballot initiative that removed the right for same-sex couples to get married in California. Having been active in the fight for marriage equality for upwards of a decade, I could not ignore coverage of the trial to determine the measure’s validity under the United States Constitution. I could, however, select for more congenial company. Choosing to associate with purpose was a repeated theme throughout 2010.
I also discovered some amazing allies in the world of the rich and famous. While Angie’ Bowie’s book project faltered due to funding issues, she continued her hard work on behalf of people living with HIV/AIDS. I included my essay in my own anthology, Sui Generis.
Progress Report: French Cooking
Jan. 24th, 2010 at 9:25 AM
You may recall that I have two resolutions this year, and one of them was to learn French cookery. So, here's the progress to date. Cookbook titles are in parentheses.
Roasted asparagus (Joie de Vivre) -- Ooh la la. Fairly easy, and absolutely delicious.
Herb-crusted chicken (The Phantom Cooks Again, a cookbook from the Broadway POTO cast, benefiting Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS) -- Came out fairly well. Learned some lessons, like not sprinkling extra breading to cover up gaps in it after dredging. Some spots had way too much crust. Will not do that next time.
Ratatouille (What's Cooking, turned into potage de legumes with an immersion blender and with additional spices added from another ratatouille recipe found in Lunch in Paris): Another success. I like the spices from the second recipe, and will include them in future ratatouille preparations. Also, using the immersion blender to make soup and then freeze leftover ratatouille eliminates texture issues when the dish is thawed.
Gougere (French Cooking For Those Who Can't) -- Another success. Making choux was made much easier with the explanations in this book. The writer is somewhat irreverent in her text, which makes for humorous reading, but she gives excellent explanations for technique and I will definitely be doing this again. I served it with the potage de legumes. Go me!
Key lime pie (Joy of Cooking) -- No, it's not French. This was an impulse born of finding key limes in the grocery store near my sister-in-law's house. I love key lime pie, and I thought, "How hard can it be?" after reading the recipe. Well. Let me tell you something. This was yesterday's project; we still haven't eaten the pie, as it had to chill overnight after cooling entirely. The project also featured a pan of scrambled eggs for the dogs, as it took me half a dozen eggs to get the necessary four egg yolks (broken yolks) and dragging Jeff in to help zest and mince 20 of these ridiculous little limes to get the necessary amount of juice. I am not exaggerating. Key limes are significantly smaller than Persian limes; they are, in fact, about the size of a large strawberry. Good grief. I would still be juicing and zesting if Jeff hadn't helped. By the way, it is much more efficient to juice a key lime with a garlic press than a juicer ... as we discovered. I doubt I'll be making this again; the ingredients cost more than it does to just buy one out of the freezer, and the pain-in-the-tukus factor cannot be ignored.
***
So far, so good. I kept up with my resolution to make one new dish a week and chronicle the progress. I have major issues about my cooking, which were born long ago when I took Home Economics and my family was ... not exactly supportive of my efforts. Admittedly, trying to introduce Indian food into a basic meat-and-potatoes family was probably biting off more than I could chew. However, it did not help that my father announced that “no one has to eat this” and proceeded to tell me for years that I had best marry a man who could cook because otherwise I could starve to death. It is worth noting that both Jeff and my ex-husband Don are excellent cooks. However, I also discovered that I could bake like nothing else.
I always tell people that I understand baking; it’s science and chemical reactions. On the other hand, things that go on top of the stove may as well be voodoo. I was determined to get past that block, but the evidence of my first report reveals that almost everything I made in January went into the oven. So much for overcoming voodoo curses ...
Feb. 1st, 2010 at 2:57 PM
I have struggled for quite a while as to whether I should write this column. I try very hard to keep the tone here neutral, because I consider myself to be a reporter on educational opportunities. I try to keep politics out, in other words.
However, the recent San Francisco Federal trial over Proposition 8 has been on my mind. You can see transcripts and pertinent information at the American Foundation for Equal Rights. I have been working on marriage equality issues for six years now, and I have learned a lot about the psychology of prejudice.
Sadly enough, there are museums that deal with the horrors of prejudice. I can tell you confidently that a lot of the images in these sites are not child-safe, and should be used for cautious conversations with teens and up.
The United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C., displays the horrors of the Third Reich and the tortures and murders inflicted upon and laws made against people of the Jewish faith, Polish descent, the Rom, gay and lesbian people and many others. There are excellent resources here for students and teachers to discuss genocide, religious intolerance, anti-ethnic prejudice and a lot more. The personal histories section is particularly moving.
Memphis, Tenn., is home to the National Civil Rights Museum. This is the site to visit for those interested in learning about the civil rights movement on the late 1950s and early 1960s. The museum is located at the Lorraine Motel, where Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., was assassinated. Displays about Jim Crow laws, Brown v. Board of Education and more are there for visitors to consider.
The GLBT Historical Society in San Francisco hosts several exhibits at its downtown location (the Castro Street exhibit recently closed). This gallery focuses on the ongoing civil rights battles faced by GLBT citizens throughout history and today.
It is hard to look at these museums and not feel horrified at what human beings are willing to do to others for the sake of misinformation, bias or prejudice. And yet, our history is rife with it. These museums exist to teach us to do better in the future than we are doing now and have done in the past.
This was a hard one to write. I finally decided that it was important to put the information out there.
***
By February 2010, I had been an Examiner reporter for two months. My “beat” was San Jose’s museum scene, which was not exactly large (there are six museums in town). However, I developed a feature called “Around the World in 80 Museums,” where I would put together an article surrounding a theme.
This one was hard to write, as I said. I had learned far more about the nature of prejudice than I cared to know because of my work on behalf of the gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered community. Prejudice is born of fear and ignorance -- but it has to be taught. Children do not know how to hate those different from themselves unless they are told to do so by some authority figure. How sad that in this day and age we, as a culture, have grown so very little.
This may explain that "medically resistant depression" thing I wrote about in "Les Pensees ..."
Feb. 3rd, 2010 at 10:06 AM
http://www.newsweek.com/id/232781/page/1
Seems that anti-depressants don't work for the vast majority of people with depression ...
***
(Do check out the article; it's well worth reading.)
Having been deemed “medically resistant” to psychotropic medication, I learned to live with the more difficult ups and downs of depression. I wrote a great deal about melancholia, as it was known for centuries, in Les Pensees Dangereuses. In fact, I tried to talk about what I understood about the origins of my own illness, and to chronicle the challenges of dealing with it. Yet, it proved difficult to capture the experience in words; it is very much an internal thing.
Reading this article provided me with a far greater understanding of my own situation -- and an aggravation with the medical and pharmaceutical industries that continues to this day. I’m fortunate that my physician believed in meds as a short-term solution only, and that she took me off them when the side effects began to prove unmanageable and, in some cases, permanent.
That’s the part that is seldom talked about; for the population that is not helped by antidepressants, the horrible side effects do not always go away when the meds are stopped. Big pharma has known this for decades, just as they have known that these meds are not especially efficacious. Yet, they continue to be prescribed for the convenience of physicians and emotional conformity on the part of patients.
How much color have we removed from the garden of our life when we expect everyone to be a somatized version of themselves?
Yes, I understand that there are people for whom medications like these are a Godsend. Honestly, I am glad for them. I would love to feel the way I did before my 1995 breakdown and its long-lingering effects. But it’s not worth continuing to poison myself in an effort to see whether some new med will have an effect now that I know that the new meds are no more effective than the old ones ... or than placeboes ... in most people.
This has not been a good week for me ...
Feb. 5th, 2010 at 4:54 PM
My wonderful pastor at Metropolitan Community Church, Rev. Mike, about whom I have written so many times, just sent out an e-mail tendering his resignation to the congregation. He is the reason I walked back into a Christian church at all. I have made some wonderful friends there. Of course, I support his decision; he has been doing his work without pay for a while to help keep the church afloat, and now feels that his calling is elsewhere. He has said that he will remain until a new senior pastor can be found.
I am very much afraid that it won't be the same without him.
***
This was, in fact, harder than I thought it would be at the time that I made this first post. I had come to love Reverend Mike very much. He was a supportive friend, a spiritual leader and an inspiring speaker. When he delivered a sermon, I felt as though he was sharing an experience with me. I had never felt such communion with a congregation and its leader, and I wondered what would become of me spiritually.
Part of my concern stemmed from knowing that I did not necessarily understand “god” in the same way that my friends within the progressive Metropolitan Community Church did. Rev. Mike recognized that we all see “god” differently, and celebrated that diversity. What would the new pastor be like when he or she came? Only time would tell.
Without me knowing, this was actually the beginning of my spiritual growth process.
Feb. 16th, 2010 at 8:36 AM
We are very much afraid that Phaedra is coming to the end of her life. She was three years old when the icon photo was taken; she is 13 now. She had a hard night last night, including losing control of her bladder.
This dog quite literally saved my life. She was a therapy dog at one point in her youth, and knows how to quietly be with people who are in distress. She would wait for me in the car at the laundromat or the grocery or the dance class -- never when it was hot out, of course -- and help me feel safe to leave the house again during some of the worst of my agoraphobia.
She helped me heal the not-great relationship with the college kids who lived next door to me in my Berkeley duplex; one of them heard her barking and asked about the noise. I wrote a letter talking about my depression and agoraphobia, thanking them for letting me know that Phaedra was noisy during the day and promising to leave a radio on to keep her company. Next thing I knew, one of the girls was at my door with a plant and telling me that her mom was bipolar and that she understood. The guy, who heard Phaedra barking, asked if he could take her running with him sometimes -- which she loved.
She has been a vital part of my life for ten years and, while I know realistically that the time has been coming, that does not ease the pain of knowing.
***
As I write these words, Phaedra is fourteen years old and still with us. She has slowed down a great deal from last year. Yet, her appetite is good, her hearing fine, and with an anti-arthritic medication she gets around splendidly, if not as rapidly, as she did in the days of her youth. We help her up onto the couch and the bed.
My love for animals began as a child, and I’ve had pets whenever allowed. I wanted to be a veterinarian so that I could help all animals. What I don’t think I ever considered, as a nine-year-old girl, was that I would also have to euthanize them.
Phaedra has played a part in my growth as a person since the day she first entered my life, and watching her age is not easy. Knowing what is coming is painful, but I am grateful for every day that we have together.
(Update for new edition: We lost Phaedra on Feb. 5, 2011.)
Whatever, A.
Feb. 18th, 2010 at 4:54 PM
Every once in a while, I'm reminded of how much better my life is without some people in it.
I decided to go read a certain blog, where I haven't been in months. Frankly, I was concerned because the author (A.) was once a friend, was laid off going on two years ago ... and I wanted to see if she was doing all right. I'm funny like that; I don't like to see people suffer.
There, I find A. talking about me -- specifically about the stalker situation. Why did this come up? She tried to read my blog here and found it locked down. Someone told her about the stalker, apparently (I suspect I know who -- and it was not anyone on this page, but someone on my Twitter), and she went on at tremendous length about how I was obviously making it up ("only she could imagine that she had a stalker"), what was the point of blogging if it wasn't available to the public, blahblahblah.
I guess it never occurred to A. that one can pick and choose about whether to have a blog open to the public. I guess it never occurred to her that yes, stalking does happen, and not just to people she doesn't know -- I have a police report number in case anyone wants it, just for the record. The stalker was identified and law enforcement dealt with the matter.
Oh, did I mention that A. supported Prop 8 -- as did the stalker (not that the correlation matters) -- and that the stalking happened as a direct result of my vocal opposition to Prop 8?
Yeah, I have nothing better to do than make shit up like that. 'Cause, you know, the harassment that resulted from having my name, address, photographs of our house, license plate numbers, etc., posted on anti-equality websites was just so much fun to endure that I had to fucking invent it.
A. is the main reason I walked away from the Gerard Butler fandom. I feel sorry for her; pretty much the whole fandom turned against her after a while and that's all she has going on -- fangirling various actors. She's approaching 50 years of age, never been married, is still a virgin (she's a very active LDS) and has more issues than National Geographic.
Yep. Life is much better without certain people in it.
***
Okay, here’s one of those times where I edited the blog post for this book; I removed a name and left the initial.
Yes, I had a stalker. I mentioned that I stopped going to the Sacramento Bee website (a resolution that lasted about as well as any other, although I have pretty much given up commenting there). This was directly related. A couple of the commenters there decided to cyber stalk me and did indeed post my identifying and personal information on a number of anti-equality websites. They also subscribed me to a number of gay pornography lists, as it turned out. I contacted the police, and the harassment ended when we, in turn, were able to track down their identifying information and the police contacted them.