Prisons

I wrote about safe spaces for a few reasons, the foremost being I think the phrase is being used conveniently sometimes. Not all the time, mind you, I believe people should have safe spaces, but there’s a downside to them as well.

It wasn’t a mistake that I shifted the perspective to corporations making safe spaces for themselves as a matter of convenience – we just don’t call them that. Maybe we should. There’s breathing space, and there’s “I need this air more than you will”.

The reality is that we all live in our own little prisons. Physiologically, we’re limited by what we can perceive through our senses and understand through our intellect.

Emotionally, it’s not too different. How do you describe love to someone who has not loved or been loved? Hatred? Rage? Depression? Our perspectives are limited by what we ourselves have experienced. We know certain things about the effects of these emotions, but we don’t truly understand these emotions unless we have felt them at least to some degree.

“Without consideration, without pity, without shame
they have built great and high walls around me.

And now I sit here and despair.
I think of nothing else: this fate gnaws at my mind;

for I had many things to do outside.
Ah why did I not pay attention when they were building the walls.

But I never heard any noise or sound of builders.
Imperceptibly they shut me from the outside world.”

Walls, Constantine P. Cavafy

There’s been quite a bit of analysis of Cavafy’s poem, most related to ostracism of homosexuality in the 19th century, but it applies well beyond that as this paper tickles at:

“…This is a poem that could just as easily have been written today, by any one of millions of people in a whole range of shamefully isolating scenarios, across the globe…”

Thinking Walls: Reflections on a theme by C. P. Cavafy“, Jen Harrison, 2006: Culture and Memory Special Edition, Modern Greek Studies (Australia and New Zealand)

Safe spaces are pointless without unsafe spaces, just as short people make tall people possible. I’m certainly not advocating unsafe spaces – instead, I’m saying that the whole definition of a safe space is based on what makes people feel unsafe. What makes people unsafe varies.

Politically, we hear a lot said about safe spaces from the left and right. The left wants to protect them at all costs, the right wants to get rid of them altogether – but both sides seem to infringe the basic principle that we need both.

I have had the luxury and tyranny of ‘safe space’ for the last 4 years in many regards. I have had the ability to remain in solitude and to truly look at my version of the world that I share bits of here and there, minimizing the effects of advertising and marketing by not having cable and instead watching what I want, when I want. I read what I want, when I want.

This created some poor habits, too – it came at costs. Even as a teenager, though, I recognized that there is no true freedom, there are only more spacious and comfortable prisons that we all aspire to, be it physical, mental or emotional or any combination of the three.

The trick is to hold your own key wherever you are. To be willing to go outside of the safe space, the comfort zone, and to find a better prison. Just as we negotiate with the world, we negotiate with our past, our present and our future.

We grow stronger from adversity at a cost, and the value should be a more comfortable prison or the key, if we do not yet have it. The problems arise when we don’t have the key, or worse, that we don’t know that there is a key to find.

Stretch. Find yourself out of your comfort zone with something, anything, no matter how small it is. Grow.

We Don’t Talk Enough About Mental Health.

RFTaranOhioBackyard

I’m an imperfect human being. Over the years I have had to remind myself of that when I might have been being too tough on myself, too arrogant, or too demanding of others. It’s a way of keeping myself real, and maybe I do it too much or too little at the right and wrong times. I’m an imperfect human being. We’ve covered that.

One of the friends I checked on today – Sunday, I check on friends – is going through a rough patch and mostly I read what she had to write. It seemed she was being very hard on herself, something I know about, and I asked her to consider this quote:

“And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.”

John Steinbeck, East of Eden.

It’s a good quote to throw around in your head if you’re unfamiliar with it. Personally, I survived most of my life by being harder on myself than people in authority were. I’m not recommending it, people who get yelled at more frequently seem to be happier for some peculiar reason. This is meant to be lighthearted, work with me here.

I only have my experience to work with, and again, I’m an imperfect human being and when it comes to these sort of things, I happily point people toward where they can get help instead of attempting it myself and possibly making matters worse. Yet there is a stigma with going to talk with someone who can be objective about us, because as friends we are biased.

There are so many stigmas about mental health services that admittedly I haven’t gone myself until fairly recently. It wasn’t anything dramatic, I simply finally decided it was time because it was possible I was having issues and I needed someone objective. For me, I was fortunate and found someone by hopping on Google Maps and searching for a psychologist. It can be more complicated with health insurance, but I lucked out.

We all have blind spots. For example, a guy I know seemed like a real jerk after a few drinks. I cut ties quietly, and one of his female friends mentioned, “I don’t know why he’s like that. It’s as if he’s bipolar when he drinks”, and it dawned on me that I almost always associated women with being bipolar but not men. I mentioned this to my psychologist, and she pointed out some interesting facts: Women are more likely to avail themselves of mental health services, and that women are more commonly diagnosed with the condition.

That gets to we guys. A lot of reels I have been seeing on Facebook recently, relate to we men not having people to talk to. Dave Chapelle went as far as to say that only women, children and dogs get unconditional love. There are expectations of men. I don’t know how true it is, but it resonates with my world experience between friends and my own personal experience. Maybe this is a factor of being of Generation X, maybe it’s a factor of all the workplace stuff that was a minefield during my days in offices, and maybe part of it is a bit of culture that needs to change.

I don’t know.

I do know that there shouldn’t be a stigma related to getting help, asking for help, or going to see a counselor, psychologist or psychiatrist. Personally, I’ve found it valuable, not because I’m a raving lunatic – I am not – but because it allows me to see a reflection of myself through an objective mirror rather than the warped mirrors of life. I have found it helps me keep grounded.

Did I drag my feet getting to see a psychologist? Yes. To be fair, maybe I wasn’t ready yet. Maybe you’re not ready yet. Maybe your friend is not ready yet.

But maybe they need to know it’s perfectly fine to go talk to someone professionally, who isn’t going to judge you based on a personal relationship. Maybe it’s easier to climb the mountain than to carry it.

We Don’t Talk Enough About Mental Health.

269864622_422901456099049_7511180958883630960_nYesterday afternoon, well into the evening, I had a long conversation with a family member who, for complicated reasons, I had never had the opportunity to speak with before – and, thanks largely to Covid-19, we had a video chat that lasted for over 3 hours. Before Covid-19, we may not have even bothered.

It was worth every bit of time for me. It helped me put together things that had puzzled me about my own life, and it put the lives of others into a deeper context than I would have expected. It put me in a context when looking through the eyes of those now dead, and what some of the things they said that made no sense to me at the time actually meant.

Pretty vague, isn’t it? Well of course it is. You don’t have to know everything about the conversation.

We spent a lot of time talking about mental health in those we knew – some mutual, some not, about growing older and how our perspectives change. We knew insane individuals, but to what degree their insanity? Where is the line drawn? And what good is being normal when being normal should drive people insane?

It made me think as I lay in my bed that we don’t discuss these things enough. There are many things we don’t understand and ignore but we should understand and should not ignore, particularly in our own family histories.

To do otherwise is… insane.