Bang Bang (Chicken)

Uh-oh.  Now she’s going to preach about: gun control, teachers need guns, mental health, universal health care, libtards, evil conservatives, sexual assault, feminism, sexism, patriotism, nationalism, racism…

 

TRIGGER WARNING

 

trigger, trigger, trigger!

 

BANG!

 

Honestyism

 

Those of us living in the United States of America, are living in a fear reactive based culture in general.  On top of that, we maintain this bizarre “code of silence” about truths and realities of our culture/town/neighbors/school/family/self which permits us to disengage and disconnect from responsibility to ourselves and to each other.  These things prevent us from having productive dialogue, discourse, and disagreements, which could lead to healthy compromise and solutions.

 

For example:  I am confident that there are next to zero parents who want to their child to feel unsafe at school, or to be shot at school.  This is the beginning of a dialogue.

Some of us might feel that schools need security/police/armed teachers or staff for our child to feel safe and not be shot at school.

Some of us might feel that we need better gun control/mental health support over all for our child to feel safe and not be shot at school.

(psst… these are not mutually exclusive ideas, just different ideas)

 

When the dialogue becomes about the extremes, which we are brilliant at, the discourse breaks down and stagnates until the side with the most power and control gets their way.  This leaves the rest of us scratching our heads, “what just happened?!!” Or loosing complete interest and tuning into some reality television show/youtuber/drink/exercise/food/work/sex/whatever to tune out our reality.

BANG!

The power and control duo do not equal good leadership.

BANG!

Having power and control is not a good indicator of good decision making.  (hello, world history and anyone who has been in an abusive relationship)

 

One of the things that makes our country so great, is that we emerged from a group of people who were unified in their belief that there was a better system for collective living. Rather than relying on those who wielded only power and control, they developed a system of collective input and feedback (not equitable, and with other issues, yes, yes, yes I am simplifying.  I said “ONE of the things,” anywho…).

BANG!

We have the laws we have because we voted for them.

BANG!

We have the people in office that we have because we voted for them.

 

Gun laws or lack of?  We vote for those.  BANG! BANG!

Education system?  We vote for that.  BANG! BANG!

 

I am not under any Pollyannaish spell where the magical world of magical peace will be attained through everyone believing in my truth.

 

I am suggesting that, as a collective, we do not accept our own culpability or responsibility in our collective missteps, disappointments, inactivity/activities. Shame and blame game, baby.  Power and control for the win!

 

WORTHINESS is critical.  Believing that one is worthy and others are worthy.

 

All it takes is for me to look inside my own home, inside of my own family, inside of my own community, to see this playing out.

 

My Home/Family:

There are so many scenarios to demonstrate in this dynamic.  The two men in my son’s life who are the closest to him struggle to maintain civility, courtesy and respect with SonHerisme.  It is awful.  I draw my boundaries as I am able to do so, and I am getting stronger and more able everyday.  In the meantime, I wonder what these men are doing to help SonHerisme feel worthy as a person.  Worthy enough that he can see worthiness in others.  Worthy enough that he does not get to the end of his rope as an at-risk teen and go into a high school or workplace or concert, and decide that not only is he unworthy, but so is everyone else.  What are they doing to show him how to be a functioning healthy adult man?

 

I could have this conversation with them.  It would not be received.

 

After the latest High School shooting, my father wondered what the differences could be between that shooter and himself.  My father tragically lost his father when he was very young.  His mother became ill and died when he was a teenager.  He was poor.  He was bullied.  My father is completely at a loss in understanding why this young man in Florida, and other white men, are shooting kids at schools, when he did not do that.

Unlike these kids, my father had a support system of people who believed he was worthy, and showed him that others had worth too.  He had a consistent sense of reciprocal responsibility in his community from the time he was born.

He did not have access to the kinds of firearms people do today.

 

Bang

 

My School/Community:

In our school community, parents are not included in the school-day community at all.  It is considered a sacred place for children only (and the staff).  Our after-school community consists of primarily female-centric activities run by parents (girl scouts, brownies, garden club, writing club, mother-daughter book club… yes, gardening and writing are not just for girls, but they are female centric and female run).  There is a co-ed robot club too, limited and selective, and an athletic club that meets seasonally at a local park (also run by women).

 

I have reached out multiple times to try and establish interest and leadership in more male-centric activities (scouts, maker-space, running club etc) with little to no response, and ultimately no action.  Inevitably someone comments, “where are the dads?,” “c’mon dads, grandfathers, uncles, step up!,” on my social media posts on the school page.  As if publicly shaming the men, we will make them want to be involved.

 

I offered my intention to walk near the school on the planned walk-out days, specifically noting that I would not disrupt the school day.  I was told, through an intermediary, that I was going to frighten kindergartners (oddly no mention of the preschoolers, so I guess they are a-okay with my goings on). After much circular dialogue, I finally received confirmation that the principal specifically wanted this person to tell me not to walk near the school.  We are so ridiculous in our silence and assumptions.  No one thought to have the courtesy to ask me what my vision and intentions were beyond my post. No one thought of how to promote supportive community (as in the entire school community, not just the carved out piece of children and staff) in this charged time.  By the way, I was going to walk and talk about peace and safety with my son, on the public sidewalk near the school.  Which, it being a public sidewalk and all, no one can prevent me from walking on.  Ironically, no one else indicated they were joining us.  It was most likely going to be the two of us on a bonding stroll, reinforcing to my son that I was, in some small way, a member of his school community and supportive of the community.

 

Where in our community are we offering support for our boys to feel that sense of worthiness?  That sense that others are worthy?  That sense of reciprocal responsibility?  We can’t even do it in our own school.  How can we expect it to happen in our broader community?

 

bang

 

I am struggling in my own home with this.

 

bang bang bang Bang BANG

 

I am so proud to be a citizen of this country, despite our gross flaws, because each of us can potentially make a difference by using our voice and vote to steer our collective community and nation.  I am finding it amazing that more and more people seem to be engaged and interested in our country’s direction.

 

I agree that there isn’t a single answer for this recurring gun violence in schools issue, and also that we need to start somewhere.

Changing gun laws seems to be a no-brainer beginning, but it does not address our serious endemic issues (which are often institutionally endorsed).

I believe that we have been teetering on a tipping point for some time in our country. I hope I’m contributing to us tipping in the direction of peace and humanity.  I am trying in my little corner, to support my SonHerisme to feel his own worthiness and the worthiness of others.

 

Maybe I should do more.  Maybe I should do differently.  For now:

 

Please let me stay healthy and alive until SonHerisme reaches well into adulthood, to give him the best footing to not become a tragic statistic.

Please let us pause and collect ourselves nationally to support school safety.

Please check on your neighbor.

Please help our fatherless boys (and those with harmful fathers).

Love, Ms. Herisme xo

 

Bang Bang (Chicken)

Mayonnaise, sweet chili sauce, honey and hot sauce – mix ‘em up = bang bang sauce

Fry up some stuff, dip fried stuff into sauce

I hate mayonnaise.  Oh, wait.  I mean, I like to eat it occasionally when it is called for, but I hate it.  I hate the way it looks.  I hate reading the word.  I hate saying the word.  Blech

Do you know what I hate more than mayonnaise?  Hypocrisy, “code of silence,” lying, compromised health and safety, kids getting shot at school.  You know, the everyday.

b aaa nnnnn ggggggg

Ciao, Chanderdeep

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It has been a while.

“May,” you say?

Well, yes, and thank you for noticing.

 

Like you, I am scrunched, sandwiched, overwhelmed, isolated, lonely, frightened, alive and all of the things.

 

MrexH’s whereabouts are currently unknown, in case you were wondering.

 

I tell SonHerisme all of the things that would indicate that we are safe and everything will be okay.

  1. The last we were made aware of, MrexH was in Puerto Rico and riding out Maria (the storm, get your head outta the gutta), with his parents.
  2. Puerto Rico is far away from us.
  3. MrexH’s parents live at the top of a huge hill in a concrete house.
  4. Hurricanes do not blow down concrete (roofs yes, concrete no).
  5. They live across the street from a monastery full of nuns and their church.
  6. The monastery is concrete and built into the side of the hill.
  7. Nuns are helpers and community support.
  8. MrexH and his parents have been through hurricanes before (nothing like this, of course, but let’s keep that between you and me).
  9. As soon as someone has any news of MrexH’s whereabouts/condition and his parents’, they will phone us (it’s what I’m telling myself too).
  10. We have an alarm system on our house.
  11. We have our own community of support.
  12. Mommy is brave and strong (this might be a bald faced lie, but I say it anyway).

 

This, plus my mother’s continued health issues, plus her doggies had to have surgery (yes, I am caring for them as well), plus regular life crap, equals one stressed out lady (that’s me).

 

This leads me to how I end up on a screen chat with Chanderdeep from Xfinity Comcast, regarding my current subscription and how I am suddenly blocked from channels that I had a week ago.

 

Screen time at my house only comes on weekends and accompanied by SonHerisme, who is 9 and mostly wants to play video games with me.  Otherwise, I have perhaps 10 minutes on select weekday mornings, to watch a television show that is just for me.

I watch my rare 10 minutes on my first release vintage iPad whilst slowly inhaling the aroma from my coffee and taking lazy sips.

For 10 minutes.

10 minutes.

That’s all I need to start off my day.

10 freaking fracking flooming blooming minutes.

(cue doggies wanting out/walked/fed, HerismeMother awakening needing coffee/bandage change/pills, SonHerisme needing cuddles/stories/breakfast…)

 

Chanderdeep tried his/her best to help me, eventually implementing a temporary fix.  I told Chanderdeep how much I knew that the world was suffering, people are suffering, deep painful suffering, and my first world problems were selfish and stupid.  What I didn’t tell Chanderdeep, was about my sacred 10 minutes.  I didn’t tell Chanderdeep that SonHerisme and I have been at risk for murder and my brain needs a break.  I didn’t tell Chanderdeep how my mother screams and cries when I have to change her bandage twice each day and my brain needs a break.  I didn’t ask Chanderdeep how he/she was doing.  I didn’t ask Chanderdeep how I could alleviate some of his/her suffering or daily life pain that we all experience.

I thanked Chanderdeep.

I wished Chanderdeep a successful remainder of his/her work shift.

I wished Chanderdeep a lovely peaceful life.

 

Chanderdeep wrapped up the conversation asap, as you can imagine you might if some strange lady wanting cable access suddenly dived into a place of wierdo-schmierdo-I-want-validation-for-my-sellfish-needs place.

 

So, yes, I am struggling with more than cable access (which I haven’t even dignified with finding time to watch for those 10 freaking minutes as SonHerisme’s nightmares have returned post-hurricane convo), Chanderdeep.  I am sorry that you have to listen to looney tunes such as myself.

I might be spiraling a bit.

Truly, from my heart, I send you tons of peaceful successful vibes and my hopes that someday I will redeem myself to you.  For now, I say, “Ciao, Chanderdeep,” until another day, my screen chat Xfinifty guide.

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

A Dime a Dozen

One of the most stark realities of going through the court system

with: divorce, protective orders, contempt of court, po violations, victim’s coordinators, witness coordinators, parent coordinators, parent evaluators, visitation monitors, social workers, Child Protective Services, therapists, Circuit Judges, District Judges, States Attorney’s Office, Best Interest Attorneys, Attorneys, Masters, Mediators, Detectives, Police Officers, Sheriff’s Officers, discovery paperwork, interrogatories, copies of every bit of paperwork that may potentially define you (bank statements, mortgage statements, medical records, bill statements, daily activity logs etc), and reiterating your story a bajillion times to everyone and anyone, as if you have never told it before…

it is F’IN exhausting, uber full-time and you are not one bit unique from thousands of other women and children trying to extricate themselves from an abusive situation.

 

We are a dime a dozen to all of those professionals.

They see us multiple times a day.

 

We are overwhelmed and out of balance because our situations are so real and unique to us.  This belief that we are unique, is a great lie that we tell ourselves.

We are not unique.

 

Do you know how many women you personally know who have been sexually abused, emotionally abused, physically abused, financially abused? I challenge you to ask in your family, or your closest friends, if you cannot think of anyone off the top of your head.  I guarantee that you know someone who has been abused.

 

We follow in the tragic footsteps of countless women who have gone before us.  Some in situations where they found justice and survived.  More in situations that bent towards whichever way the current power and control swing was going.  Others ending up dead as a result of abuse.

 

As we continue on this great human shift away from a patriarchal society, which I believe we are on (another post, another day), I hope that we all continue to speak our truths and share our stories loudly – even when we have no hope for justice, even when we have no hope for safety.

 

This is our war and I am betting that, despite losing battles here and there, we win the long race.

 

We are a dime a dozen, but each of our dozen wield mighty and powerful voices, deceptively couched in that lowly dime.  We are slowly building, stack by stack, until we outnumber those lone one-in-a-million voices who attempt to stop us.

 

I am cheering your truth on!  Good job, YOU – go, YOU, GO!

 

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

pssst… Donate to your local domestic violence shelter today and reach out to a friend today

Disposable Emotions

original (775)

Parent/Teacher conferences happened last week at SonHerisme’s school.

This is one of the very, very extremely, limited times parents are permitted to see inside their children’s classroom, or the inside of the school environment at all.

Our school has very exacting leadership.  A militant Montessori, some might say.

The school is the domain of children and teachers, where families and parents are not permitted or included.

The conferences are strictly scheduled in 15 minute increments, twice per school year.  During two scheduled weeks during the school year, 20 minute opportunities to observe your child’s classroom are offered, but only to one parent at a time, and only if you secure the time slot before the other 100 or so parents.  There is also a 15 minute opportunity to join in your child’s classroom for their Walk-Around-the-Sun (Montessori birthday celebration).

Why are we still there? 

The teachers and parent community are unusually wonderful at this school.  I helped to build the school, as a founder.  While I am not on the same page with the leadership of the school, I am not currently in a position to help facilitate change, and the broader community of the school has been indispensable to us.

Also, despite having a horrific introduction into formal schooling (we were homeschooling prior to attending school), I was not in a position to even move SonHerisme into a different classroom.  My every move and breath was being questioned and picked apart by my attorney, SonHerisme’s attorney, and MrexH’s seemingly never-ending series of attorneys (each of whom firmly believed they were going to catch me doing or being something awful, so that they could vie for MrexH’s position with the court system – because that makes TOTAL SENSE when you are looking at a mentally ill person threatening to kill his family, with a history of abuse…yup, totally).

Anywho, the school leadership blatantly told me that, if asked by an attorney, therapist or social worker, they would not support my request to remove my child from the destructive abusive classroom situation he was in, or to change his school environment.  The school leadership’s position was that I would be harming SonHerisme’s education if I chose to school him differently. The school leadership is considered an expert on the subject of my child’s education, not me.  This felt like a threat to our safety.

The school leadership described me to SonHerisme’s attorney as an “over-protective” “hypervigilant” mother…  UM, YES because MrexH wants to KILL us, perhaps…?

This communication between SonHerisme’s attorney and the school leadership cost me countless sleepless nights, loss of trust in the leadership, and probably close to $1000 in attorney’s fees to explain myself – never mind the hours of my time in communications with those attorneys, our therapists etc, that most assuredly took my time AWAY from a confused and hurting SonHerisme who just desperately needed my presence and assurances.

The school environment we entered had an entirely unprepared incompetent teacher and was rampant with extremely poor  aggressive violent behaviors and bullying.  Most of the 30 children that were in that classroom 2014-2015, are still trying to normalize and catch up to their peers – even the half of the class that removed their children due to this horrific school situation.

While that particular teacher was not permitted to return to the school the following school year, the damage was done.  And I remained confined by the threats of attorneys and the attitude of the school leadership, to keep my child in that environment.

Those of you reading this and thinking, “This would never happen to my child!  Unacceptable!  I would pull my child out of there in a heartbeat and give them a piece of my mind!”

Be my guest. 

Walk my path.

(but holy bejeezus, I hope NOT) 

Have multiple attorneys threaten you with the safety and well-being of your child.

One threat: to send some stranger, in a van, to your home to physically remove your ptsd anxiety ridden child, and force your child to spend time with his abusive clinically psychotic father (who wants to murder SonHerisme and Herisme), if you make any questionable decisions or moves.  You know, because it turns out that, according to attorneys and potentially the court, it’s probably ME that had the problem – you know because of my anxiety about MrexH, and I am too overprotective and hypervigilant.  Yeah, that was the REAL problem here…

Anyone want to revisit the misogynistic bullying culture of outrage discussion?

Good times.

And so, you move those feelings to somewhere else (dissociation much?), and wake up in the morning to take your screaming crying frightened child into, what you KNOW, is an abusive school situation, and you leave him there because you’re fairly certain no one is going to murder him in a public Montessori school with a tough-as-nails, protective school secretary, watching the front door.

The unknown social worker in the van transporting your child to his psychotic abusive father is what you are avoiding.

Once that teacher was not invited back to the school for the 2015-2016 school year, new teachers arrived, and a new school secretary (the previous secretary made an extra effort to introduce SonHerisme to the new secretary and let him know that the new secretary knew how to keep him safe too.  I truly appreciated that!).  The school leadership divided that classroom of children into smaller groups, so that they could have a chance to normalize into the environment.

So far, so good, in terms of the classroom dynamics shifting and allowing education and positive learning to take place.  Of course, this is only as far as I can tell from observing my child outside of school, as no parent is permitted inside, except on the occasions listed above.

However, the recovery is taking extra time for us because not only did we have to move through the tragedies of our home environment, but also the severe tragedy of an abusive school environment 2014-2015, as well.

Which brings me back to the school conference, now that there is context for what comes next.

The consistent and patient teacher SonHerisme is in his second year with (multiage Montessori classrooms, he has not been held back), shared with me that SonHerisme confided he was worried sometimes at night because his dad wants to kill him.

Holy Fduck (D-)

At a follow-up meeting about extra educational support for SonHerisme, his teacher shared that SonHerisme told his peers in a classroom discussion about sad things in everyone’s lives, that his dad wants to, and tried to, kill him.

Holy Fduck (D-)

When the class discussion moved on to how to deal with the saddnesses, SonHerisme’s response was, “you just forget about it.”

Disposable emotions

Dissociation

Or, SonHerisme is growing, changing, and starting to forget somethings and remember other things in a different, maturing way.

I hope that my lessons to SonHerisme are not that the primary processing of emotions includes dismissing them, disposing them.

I want him to be able to acknowledge emotions,

process them,

move successfully and healthily through the strongest of them,

to live his long, healthy, full, fulfilling and safe life.

Maybe I am too good at dissociation and disposing of my own emotions to know how to guide him through this.

Thank G-d, and the generosity of SonHerisme’s therapist,

his therapy continues weekly.

Obvs I need to be in therapy – which takes private insurance – which takes money – which takes an income – which requires employment.

In time.  I feel that I will get there.

In the meantime, thank you all for your patience.

If you know me irl and know our school, please be kind in your judgements of them and of me.  Challenging extremely unpleasant circumstances tend to bring out the worst in everybody.

Love, Ms. Herisme xo

ps. yes, it continues to be difficult for me as an adult to process what has occurred.  I cannot imagine how these situations have formulated SonHerisme’s young little being. *spirals into worry*

Madame/Madman President

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I awakened last Wednesday morning, as most of us did, a little shaken by the outcome of our presidential election.  Not primarily because of the WHO, but primarily due to the deluge of outrage.

 

Did we really have NO IDEA that our country was poised to make a bad choice?

 

Did we really have NO IDEA that a significant segment of our country is fundamentally misogynistic, bigoted, racist, power-hungry?

 

Did we really have NO IDEA that either way the election turned out, about half of us were going to spiral into outrage, and the other half into bloating gloaters?

 

REALLY?

 

C’mon people.

 

Have you spoken to your neighbors?

Have you reached out to the lady next to you in carline?

Have you volunteered at your local domestic violence shelter or homeless shelter?

Have you, or anyone you have ever known, been a victim of domestic violence?

Have you ever known someone who has tried to separate or divorce from a domestic violence/abuse situation?  With children?

 

If you have been in an abusive relationship, tried to divorce or separate, and have children, then you know what to do now.

 

You know how to handle this situation, because you have dealt with it before.

Power and control,

through bullying, misogyny,

bigoted/racist speech –

been there, done that.

 

Our courts condone this type of behavior every single bojingle jangle day.  Ask around, we’ll tell you all about the reality behind the curtain of American Happy.

 

We have already worked through our outrage, shock and dismay at realizing the truth of our culture.  We are all sorry that the rest of you are just now being smacked in the face with it on a grand and public scale.

 

We know what to do next, and it isn’t “move to Canada!”

 

This is what you do.  Do what you CAN do.

 

I can prepare breakfast.  I can make healthy choices to fight my cancer.  I can work with attorneys/therapists to keep us safe and healthy.  I can inform myself about local, national, and global issues.

Talk to your neighbors with respect and compassion.  Talk to your family with respect and compassion.  Take care of your family.  Take care of your neighbors.  Turn your frustration into informed action and spread love all around yourself.

Inform yourself about what is happening socially and politically in your community.

Hold your communities’ elected officials to their commitment to represent you.  Volunteer for a community committee.  Thank those who serve on community committees.  Know your Congress people.  Know your Senators.  Know what they stand for and communicate with them about what you stand for.

 

Engage.  Empower.  Encourage.

 

We’re in this place together.

 

If we continue to turn our cheeks, spew rhetoric, or close our eyes and our ears, this, THIS, THIS is what happens.

 

Dear Adults, we NEED to do better.

 

Know your community.  Respect each other.

 

Know more and make better decisions with that new knowledge.

 

You are important, not more important that anyone else, and you are loved.

 

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo