No.

Hey ya’ll. Seems like it’s been forever since I last posted on our page with all of the adventuring I’ve been doing this summer. School got out June 3 for me and I’ve been running around ever since then. I went to Mexico, Boston and Iowa within the course of 7weeks.  I got to swim with dolphins, eat some authentic Mexican food, meet my adorable baby nephew LJ, see some family and friends in Iowa and now I’m currently writing this post at my two week Annual Training for the  National Guard in Smyrna, TN. All in all I have had a great summer and have nothing to complain about. The trips were very refreshing and much needed after a year of teaching and what will soon be another one.

Now, I don’t know what it is about traveling, but traveling always opens and reopens new and old perspectives as well as makes me uber reflective.  I could go on and on about all of the ideas I thought about and new insights I gained while traveling, such as what the next steps I plan to take are after I decide to be finished with teaching or about the recent empathetic conversations I was able to have with a couple of die-hard republicans while not wanting to blow their heads off or my own. Although I would love to tell you about those two revelations, that’s not what I’m writing this blog post about.

One of the main things I thought about during my travels and perhaps might have been even a little bit shameful about was my relationships and interactions with men. Now, when I say relationships and interactions with men, I am not referencing the amount of men I have slept with. I think it’s actually very stupid when women (or men) beat themselves up about a stupid number because at the end of the day that’s all it fucking is, a number. You never know someone’s circumstances or why their “number” is as high or low as it is and quite frankly it shouldn’t matter because that number has nothing to do with who anyone is as a person. Okay rant over on that.

So anyway what I mean when I said I’ve thought about my interactions and relationships a lot with men is I’ve been very reflective of why and how I interact with men who maybe just aren’t looking to be friends with me; whether that means they’re interested in me on another level or vice versa. I would like to talk about the term “obligation” for a little bit. Obligation can be defined as the act of binding oneself to certain things which arises out of a sense of duty, results from custom, law, etc. For example, I am obligated to drill one weekend a month with the Tennessee National Guard because I signed a contract saying I would fulfill that duty. I am obligated to teach at the same high school for at least two years because I made that commitment with Teach for America. I am NOT obligated, however, to do things (whatever they may be) for or with a man because I feel guilty or conscious of their feelings.

“No.” The two letter word that I’ve always had trouble saying. The two letter word that never ends with just two letters because as a woman if I say “no” I immediately need to justify why I’m saying no. I need to have a reason because how stupid would I be to not want to sleep with a man, talk with a man, do a favor for a man, etc. There’s always gotta be a reason why I don’t want to do those things. The mere fact that I may be uncomfortable or just not that into you is never justification enough.

“Hey Kristen, lemme stay over at your place tonight.” “Well no because the house is really messy and I have to get up really early in the morning.”

(Sorry for the vulgarity of the next one)

Dude and I are sitting on my couch cuddling and pulls down his pants, I immediately know what he is looking for. He asks if I can give him head for a little bit. Without blinking an eye (even though I want to) I do it because I invited him over. How dare I say “no” to that notion when I could have implied it prior to or gotten his hopes up.

I’ve had sex with a man before, not because I wanted to or even implied that I wanted to, but because I had already had sex with him before and I felt that I was obligated to again for that reason. Oh I was probably being a tease (God forbid I hurt his feelings or ego). If I say no, well he’s already staying over here anyway and I’ll have to deal with the constant trying and asking so I may as well just get it over with.

I’ve said no, but let down the boundaries I’ve set all because a man wouldn’t stop bugging me, poking me and asking me the same thing over and over again. He asked me to listen to him and have a brief conversation and I said no, but then finally caved in because I knew he wouldn’t go away if I didn’t. I didn’t want to go and talk with him, but I did anyway because his incessant badgering worked as planned (Men are good at being super persistent). I couldn’t leave the conversation even though I was exhausted because he was in a bad state and needed someone to talk to and comfort him. Because that’s my job (insert sarcastic tone).

I’ve never actually told anyone this other than my friend Jennie before, but I really do have trouble saying “no” primarily to the male gender. Call me weak, insecure or whatever you want to, but saying “no” is hard. I’ve always known this about myself and perhaps maybe this is just a broad characteristic of women, but like I said before I’ve been wondering why this is so hard and why I feel so guilty using the two letter word. Am I afraid that I won’t be liked if I tell someone no? Is it sometimes just easier to give in and not say no to avoid complaining and bitching? Am I afraid to hurt a man’s feelings? Yes. Yes. And yes. All of the above.

Now, don't get me wrong, I have used the word plenty of times before and am not just sitting over here saying yes like a little submissive princess. I guess what I really spent my summer thinking about is why saying this two letter word is so fucking hard for me. I know I mentioned the reasons above but this summer has been extremely uncomfortable for me because I’ve been in my head a lot. You’re weak, you’re a slut, you’re insecure are all thoughts that have stemmed from this stupid idea of the difficulty of using the word no. Now, don’t get me wrong, a lot of times within uncomfortable thoughts or situations come beauty. Because I have done a lot of reflecting on this, I have made it a point from here on out to not justify myself when I do use the word no. I’ve made it a point to actually use the word no instead of “Well maybe this isn’t a good idea” or another ambiguous phrase that could be up for interpretation. I’ve attempted to set clear boundaries and not take them down even when nagging or temptation is involved. I try and remove myself from a situation I foresee coming to avoid any feelings of negative vulnerability.

I think I’ve always known this about myself, but haven’t thought about it in depth until now because thinking about it stings a little bit and makes me feel vulnerable. My summer travels brought these thoughts out in me and I’m glad that I was forced to think about it because I am now aware of it and the steps I need to take to regain the ability to say no whenever and wherever. I recognize that I am an individual obligated to nobody but myself. I will fight to not compromise who I am and what I believe in efforts to protect a man’s feelings. And I sure as hell will try, try and try to be heard loud and clear even when it is difficult to do so. I am a woman. I am strong. I will not hide behind feelings of fear, guilt or false obligation. I will say “no.”

Strip Clubs and Politics

Well that title ought to provoke some interest! Sorry to disappoint,  but it is not going to be as salacious as you might think. Recently, I overheard a conversation that I can't get out of my head. The conversation involved a question posed to a father regarding his daughter. If you could choose, would you rather your daughter worked as a stripper or at a fast food restaurant? Unbelievably to me, the father, a man with at least a bachelor's degree, stated he would choose stripper because you can't live off the wages from a fast food, minimum wage job. It took every ounce of this asshole ' s being to not come at the man like a spider monkey. I don't like strip clubs. It's not that I'm jealous of the beautiful women or concerned my husband secretly wants one of them. No, my dislike of them comes from the fact that they hurt women. I've heard people say that it is empowering, that they are taking advantage of men's desires, and all the other arguments we tell ourselves to justify their existence. All of these arguments provide nice soundbites and alleviate the conscience. The problem is that the arguments are dead wrong. Here is what happens to a woman who is employed as a stripper. First, she makes a large amount of money without any real marketable skills that can be translated to a different industry outside of the sex industry. This sounds good...making a lot of money without a lot of effort. However, her lifestyle quickly grows and she becomes used to making more money than what her transferable skills can support. So, she in essence, becomes stuck. Leaving will necessarily mean a loss in wages. I know you might be thinking suck it up cupcake but how many of us could take even a 10K paycut much less the larger one faced by these women? So, the women become stuck in the sex industry. The options, then, if one  wants to leave, are limited. Often, the women who want to leave get sucked into other illegal activity such as drugs, sex trafficking or other illicit activities that can provide comparable wages without any real skills. 

I can't believe anyone would choose this cage (no pun intended) for their daughter. I know the father probably didn't think about it as intensely as I have but the sad fact remains that money, no matter how it is acquired, is often the commodity that is valued above all else. It can lead to absurd results wherein a father would rather his daughter be trapped in the sex trade instead of flipping burgers at The Sonic. I also think that the conversation illustrates another issue that has been bothering me of late and it is the politics half of this post. How often do we all, including myself, hold opinions that we have not examined or questioned. Unexamined opinions lack validity and credibility and yet, we become attached to these opinions and defend them, not with facts, but with personal attacks or worse by stating some vague rhetoric that lets us off the hook. It's a mental shortcut and it's  As Americans, we are entitled to hold and state these opinions. I don't think, however, we are entitled to ignorance. Our freedoms come with great responsibility. I'm not asking you to turn every game of "would you rather" into a dissertation. In my defense, the conversation that sparked this post was not a result of this whimsical game, and instead, was sparked by a discussion on the state of the economy.  What I am asking is that you look beyond the rhetoric or the quick justifications before your opinion becomes solidified and entrenched but especially before you try to convince someone else of its truth.

"Maybe, Maybe Not"

I have grown to love and appreciate parables...humans have evolved communicating through storytelling, the art of the narrative. Parables have the capacity to communicate messages more powerfully than cold, factual statements. Narratives also allow our minds to connect more readily and powerfully to ideas, morals, beliefs and emotions. There are two parables I've heard where I could almost physically feel my mind shift after hearing them...I'd like to share one of them with you today. It is a Chinese proverb commonly titled, "Maybe". There are different renditions, all comparable in premise and intimation. You can view and listen to a version HERE and/or read the version below:

"There once was a poor old country farmer. One year, the weather was very good, and his crops grew stronger, taller and greener than ever before. In the tea house, in the evening, his friends and neighbors said how lucky he was. The farmer just nodded and said, "Maybe".

One night, the very night before he was to start the harvest, a herd of wild horses came stampeding down from the hills and trampled all his crops. In the tea house that evening, his friends and neighbors all commiserated with him. They said how unlucky he was. The farmer just nodded. He said, "Maybe".

The next day, the farmer's son went out early in the morning and roped three of the wild horses, worth as much as three years of harvest. In the tea house that evening, his friends and his neighbors said how lucky he was. The farmer just nodded and said, "Maybe".

The next day, when the farmer's son was breaking one of the horses, he was thrown, breaking his leg. In the tea house that evening, his friends and neighbors all commiserated and said how unlucky he was. The farmer just nodded and said, "Maybe".

A month later, the emperor declared war and his army marched through the village, conscripting all the young men. When the soldier came to the farmer's house looking for his son, he saw his broken leg and knew he couldn't be taken. In the tea house, in the evening, his friends, his neighbors, all said how lucky he was. The farmer just nodded and said, "Maybe".

If you go online and search for this parable, there are a number of different interpretations. That's the great thing about narratives...they speak to where you're at in your life when you hear them, within the bounds of the storyline. What this story said to me was that there is no way of knowing that any specific event is "good" or "bad". The consequences of moments and events have yet to unfold, sometimes years into the future and sometimes not even in our lifetimes.

Thinking about this, I realized that labeling events as one or the other was an impossible and futile endeavor. I also realized that some of the events, moments and circumstances in my life that might be labeled "bad" are some of the events, moments and circumstances that have made me a better person, made me more "me", made me more loving, empathetic, compassionate, honest and open. So are they "bad"? I've taken to using the words "uncomfortable", "frustrating" and "challenging" because for me, they are more accurate.

Too, using those words removes the threat and fear from situations...labeling something as "bad" immediately triggers a negative, judgmental, fearful reaction. As someone who has struggled with anxiety, this is a HUGE cognitive shift and in fact, began to help me manage and remove some of my anxious moments. I have been able to view events and circumstances as things that exist and that I have feelings about. I allow myself to feel the feelings and when I remember what I have taken from this parable, I am also able to remind myself that there is no way of knowing what will come in the future and I cannot and do not want to pass judgment on the "goodness" or "badness" of a circumstance as it exists and what it will bring in my life. This has lightened my load considerably.

Internalizing the messages I hear in this parable has freed me in some ways. And of course I have moments when I am better and worse at remembering what this story has shown me. That said, I go back to it frequently and share it with many in conversation, which is why I wanted to share it with you, our dear blog family. I think one could teach a course based on this narrative, as I only have time to scratch the surface in this blog and there are many messages and take aways packed in its simplicity. What do you hear? What speaks to you when you hear/read this proverb?

Adversity is not a Detour...It's the Path

Once again, I don't have a lot to give at the moment. I returned from a two-week intensive training course at Fort Mccoy, Wisconsin on Saturday. Two weeks sounds like a walk in the park compared to my year-long deployment overseas but I found myself in Royal Asshole mode upon my return home. For those that aren't familiar with a Royal  Asshole, on a scale of 0 to douchebag, this person isn't even on the scale. Yesh, it was that bad. 

I can't really pinpoint why this Royal Ahole emerged upon my return. Maybe it was because the kids were acting out, which causes me some guilt about being gone. Maybe it was because my husband had to leave the following Monday and, of course, Fathers' Day was jammed in between there. Maybe it was because I epically failed to even meet the minimum standard for the father of my two children on Father's Day. (I mean, really? You couldn't even pull off a card, Jill? Are you effin kidding me?) Maybe it was because I also had a 20th class reunion to plan and attend the following weekend (when did I get old btw). Maybe it was because I'm hopefully having eye surgery the week after next. Maybe I'm just a straight up legit asshole, I really don't know, but I'm sure that last one is at least a little true. Whatever the reason, I just found myself stuck on Bitch Mode. I'm still about 50% there if I'm honest with myself. These are not fun times, no matter how long or short the absence.  Everyone is off schedule, things are not where I left them, the kids are wise enough to employ manipulation tactics 101 when one of us is gone, and well, I always feel a bit like a stranger when returning home. It's jarring to go from planning a war in some undisclosed location, talking about the range of a Howitzer and what a SCUD missile does, to being, well, mom and wife. It's not a transition I have perfected by any means and it's fucking hard. I don't want to do the fucking laundry. I just planned a damn war for pete's sake, my brain screams.

Adjusting and readjusting to life after any sort of absence is actually really difficult. John and I continue to throw fuel on that fire with reckless abandon. Last summer, we didn't see each other for six weeks. This summer, it's a mere three weeks so you think it would be easy. John will leave for four months at some point after October and I have more training in Arkansas and Colorado on the horizon as well.  No absence is easy, no matter what the absence is for or how long it is.  But, no matter what, no matter how big of a bitch I am or how much money John blows while he is living large while I'm gone, we have continued to make it work. Sometimes I think of how much we have been tested and tried from the day we were married. We were married four months and I left for six months. I was deployed for a year, his business imploded, we lived apart for basically an entire additional year when i worked in Des Moines and he lived in Nebraska. We have moved more than most people move in a lifetime in the past five years in order to keep each other happy and through it all, even though it got ugly, we stuck it out. To me, that is a sign of strength. Sometimes I get weepy over how much we have survived. I'm tearing up as I write this. I think how much easier it "should have" been. But then I think to myself that if things had been easy, if we never had to be apart, we would never know how strong we were.  Is strength never letting someone go or is it letting them go and having them return to you, time and time again, no matter how big of an asshole you can be? I'm learning it's the latter. We give, we take, but we don't control. We let go, we take a risk in pursuing a dream, but we always come home, whatever state that may be at the time. We argue, we fight, but we don't give up.  Love isnt controlling. Love is freeing. I think many people confuse love with control. True love wants each person to become the best version of their self, not keep someone in shackles. I'm learning to accept that sometimes life's greatest gifts come wrapped in adversity. My marriage has revealed itself, especially in the early years, as a source of adversity but in the end, it is truly one of the greatest gifts I have been given because it has revealed itself to me as true love, something I would not have dreamt possible ten years ago. Thanks for putting up with this asshole, John. Love always, Your Soulmate (sorry you're stuck with this asshole).

Crescent Lunge

I was in yoga yesterday morning...much needed after a ladies' weekend road trip to Chicago. Yoga is also my running hobby's soulmate. I have been practicing yoga on and off for about 18 years and regularly (minimum once a week, preferably more often) for the past five plus years...I tell you this only to illustrate the fact that I am not a beginner. So, yesterday morning I was in class and several times during the flow we were in the crescent lunge pose (see picture).

Now, crescent lunge is not exceptionally difficult to get into. I will say that as my yoga practice has deepened, I have realized that no pose is "easy" and every pose can challenge even a seasoned practitioner in ways previously unthought of or experienced (there are yoga nuances on breathing, intensity, muscle engagement, mental and spiritual presence and other significant characteristics that I am not addressing here). However, for the purposes of this blog post, most readers could probably get into what would visually represent a crescent lunge fairly easily.

So...I was in what might have been my fifth or sixth crescent lunge of the practice. Again, those familiar with yoga will know that the instructor usually reminds everyone that what happens on her/his mat is in that moment, in that day, and is ours personally...the practice has nothing to do with anyone else inside or outside of that room or moment. I found myself unheeding that advice. I was in crescent lunge, a pose I could literally get into after three glasses of wine and stay balanced, and I looked over at the woman beside me (in crescent lunge, your head is aligned with your spine, looking straight ahead). And I wavered and put my hand down to steady myself...again, I will remind you, in a pose I could hold without wavering while also holding a wine buzz.

I had become distracted. I was distracted from what was happening on my mat, in my life and self at that moment, by my sideways glance at the woman next to me. I lost my balance, I lost my focus. I've noticed I have the same thing happen when I'm really stressed and/or my mind is not fully present in the practice. When I'm thinking about the future or what I have to do for the day or "if this, then that", I waver in a pose and I lose my balance. Sometimes I waver and catch myself and sometimes I fall to a knee. Either way, I've lost not only my balance, I've also lost my engagement in my practice and in the present moment.

For me, what I've come to know and relate with this experience I've just shared with you is that this phenomenon is not unique to a yoga practice...physically or mentally. I've thought about this quite a bit and I've noticed what my physical body can and cannot do when I am stressed or anxious. I am unbalanced when I'm stressed or anxious...physically, as in a yoga practice when I topple, and mentally, when I metaphorically topple...when I am stressed or anxious, I am not my best self, which is my balanced self. My balanced self is the me that allows me to feel my emotions and not react impulsively on them. My balanced self is also the self that allows me to feel my emotions and react in a way that takes care of myself...and that might be in a stern, boundary setting fashion...but not in a way that makes me feel small and mean or is harmful to another.

There are many outside and inside influences that contribute to my balanced or unbalanced self...honestly, each individual's influences are likely individualized arrays of incoming and outgoing triggers, emotions, gifts and recharging respites. What I would like to emphasize with this post, and what I think is universal, is that when we are concerned with what another is doing, when we are comparing, when we become distracted from "becoming our best crescent lunge", we falter. We falter from our path and that which is our authentic self. Sometimes we even fall down and sometimes it takes a while for us to get back up. 

I am not saying that we cannot take guidance from others...during a yoga practice the instructor provides plenty of guidance that deepens my practice. I am saying there is a difference between distraction and guidance and in our own lives, only we know what that looks and feels like and only we know which attempts at guidance are distractions and which are useful to take with us on our life journeys. It remains, however, that for me the parallels are here in this story, in my yoga practices. The times in my life I have thought maybe I should be doing what someone else is doing instead of what I'm doing (in my personal, professional, you name it parts of my life) because I've "glanced over at their crescent moon", I have faltered and fallen from my path and betrayed my authentic self. The times when I am happiest in my life is when I am enjoying my own practice, my own path, my own moments and am delighted and blessed with my own "crescent lunge", no matter what it looks like that day.

Beautiful Chaos: Reflection from a First Year Teacher

This blog post was written by Dissident Daughter Kristen, but posted by Anne due to Kristen being on her way to Mexico!!!

Hey y’all! First off, I want to tell you that I’m currently writing this blog post in the Charlotte Airport because I am on my way to Riviera Maya, Mexico (woot woot). Second off, I want to tell you that it’s finally my summer vacation and the reason I’m headed to Mexico is because I finished my first year of teaching!!!

For those of you I may not talk to on a regular basis, after college (exactly a year ago), I moved down to Memphis, TN to teach high school Spanish in a low income, inner city community. Now to most of you that really means nothing. The words Memphis, low income, and inner city are just words that make up the English language and lack a wee bit of your perspective. For those of you that which this is the case, I’m not blaming you. I myself was blissfully ignorant to the situation I was getting myself into. I thought I would go and teach kids who were a little behind grade level, would sit there silently and engaged while I taught them, and most importantly, would have a burning passion to learn, achieve, and get out of the only world they’ve ever known one day.

For my teacher friends reading this, at this point you’re probably either shaking your head or laughing uncontrollably right about now. My preconceived notions of what this experience would be like is not even close on the accuracy spectrum.

When it comes to this past year of teaching, I honestly cannot remember as much I would like, probably because I tried to forget my entire first semester of teaching because I had no idea what I was doing yet, which to be fair, I still don’t know everything but I’ve learned a hell of a lot from the past year.

This past year has challenged me in more ways than one. One of my biggest challenges and realities I had to accept was that I wasn’t going to be liked by everyone (students and faculty included). This was a harsh reality for me to face because I have always been good at building relationships with various types of people. I’m in the army, did a wide array of activities throughout high school and college, studied abroad, worked multiple jobs, etc. and had never had a problem getting along or being respected by people. But when my students walked through my door the first few weeks of school and look at me like an alien, refused to shake my hand or make eye contact, I knew I was going to be given a run for my money.

Another challenge I’ve faced this past year of teaching is accepting that even though I am a teacher in contrast to being a salesperson, education is still a business and you cannot take anything personally. When it comes to teacher ratings, staff meetings or constructive criticism, you must remember than none of this is a knock at you as a person, it’s simply an evaluation of the world you do and how well you do it by certain standards. It has nothing to do with how valuable you are as a human being.

Finally, this year has challenged me to look at growth versus mastery. Coming from a competitive background and having the desire to be the best at everything I do, I constantly compare myself to others and strive for perfection. This year I had to throw everything dealing with that out the window. In order to stay sane and passionate in this work, you must accept that you will never achieve perfection. That, however, does not mean that you are not doing a good job and are not improving your teaching practices everyday. There were some days at the beginning of the first semester where I would be standing in the front of my classroom literally teaching to a wall. None of my kids were looking at me or listening to me. I tried to get their attention multiple times with “Teach Like a Champion” strategies, yet their voices and cell phones drowned me out. I felt like nothing. I felt like a failure. I felt worthless. I never gave up, though. I never gave up on myself as a teacher or human; and most importantly, I never gave up on my kids. If it was going to take me 175 days of getting drowned out by their 35 voices to get 5 days where I got through to them in some way, shape, or form-I was willing to conquer that. Toward the end of the first semester and beginning of second semester, I got my classes to take notes silently, listen o me when I gave instructions, and most importantly, stay seated for an entire class period. This didn’t happen every day, of course, but it did happen more often than not second master. That was growth, not mastery, but that does not lessen my accomplishment.

All in all, this year has been a year of struggle for me. I have never struggled so much before in my entire life. I have never felt so incompetent and invaluable. I have never laid on a cold tiled floor crying because of 35 young humans. I have never felt so defeated and driven at the same time. Some days, I don’t want to look or speak to my students. Some days, they infuriate me to the point where I lose my courage to keep speaking. And some days, I feel like I’m drowning and losing an uphill battle. Then, there are some days where I receive the warmest hugs from my students as they say “I love you, thank you for teaching me.” There are some days where my students get what I’m teaching and kick ass on their exit ticket. There are some days where I get to teach a bomb lesson because I’ve gotten 100 percent silence. There are some days where I get to see the little impact these kids have had on me and I’ve had on them. Those days are good days.

My kids are awesome human beings. They try me, but at the end of the day, we’ve developed this mutual feeling of respect which wasn’t there in the beginning. It is hard, oh so hard, but it is damn worth it. My kids are worth it. Memphis is worth it.

Funniest Teacher Moment of 2015-2016 school year:
Block three was paper macheing balloons to make piñatas. This was a project that required a lot of patient, resources, and detailed instruction for this to work. Block three was my most difficult block from day 1 until 185. There were a lot of playful kids in that block and even when we had developed a mutual feeling of respect, they still consistently tried me. Anyway, we were about to start distributing the materials for the piñatas and even after I explicitly stated that no students have permission to stand up during the activity because of the possibility of spills and destruction, one student refused to sit down. The student was actually running around the room in circles, poking every student he ran by and getting into another student’s face for no reason. After giving the student 3 opportunities to sit down, I finally raised my voice, marched him to his chair and said, “STUDENT NAME, IF YOU DON’T SIT DOWNRIGHT NOW I WILL GIVE YOU AN AUTOMATIC ZERIO FOR THE DAY (actually a lie). I was pretty close to the student and fairly loud. Now, most of you might expect a student to say “yes ma’am,” or “sorry” when a teacher gives them an angry command. This student, however, turns his head, shakes his hand in front of his nose and yells, “Bruh, you need a tic tac or sum!” I was so angry in that moment, but could not stop laughing on my way home from work that day. Lol.                                     

Fighting Family Insulation

I am…strongly concerned…about family structure in the United States. There are many issues that one could critique regarding this topic, but in this blog, I am primarily concerned about what I am calling the insular nature of the “nuclear” family. I write “nuclear” family in parentheses as it is debatable as to what even constitutes a nuclear family. Additionally, I am well aware that there is increasing diversity with family setups in terms of lesbian/gay partners, stepparents, single parents, child-free, etc. When I say “nuclear” families, I am referring primarily to the immediate family structure... Ah hell. I can’t even define what I mean without a thousand disclaimers. Just let me explain what I mean with some examples.

I experienced firsthand an irritation with the insular nuclear family a couple of years ago. I was in a significantly different place in my life then than I am now, but I am still frustrated by the implications of this scenario. I was talking with some coworkers about Christmas plans, and one of my coworker was complaining about her parents. She said, “I mean, don’t they understand that my priority is to my own family now? I have a fiancé, and that’s my first family.”

I immediately felt as though I had been punched in the gut. You see, I was extremely single at this point, and so I viewed the statement through that lens. The implication from that statement was that everyone’s first and primary family was the one that they had with their partner. And so if someone didn’t have a partner, such as myself, then they weren’t the top priority for…well, anybody. They were the second priority and afterthought. It was a peculiar and gut-wrenching thing for me to think about. You see, I had grown up with four beautiful sisters, and so my primary family had always felt so large and welcoming to me. And yet…if we were to live by the implications of my coworker’s statement…I wouldn’t be a priority for my sisters once they had their own families. I felt so sad and invaluable when I thought about this. However, even in my emotional state, I had the cognitive wherewithal to question why we needed to place hierarchies on family members’ importance. Couldn’t we just say that family was important, and not try to rank people in terms of priority?

Two years later, and I’m in a different place in my life in a variety of ways. And yet- the insular nature of the nuclear family in the United States has grown increasingly troublesome to me. Now, I have even more examples of why I am concerned.

Here’s another example of an issue, although it is with a completely different family setup. I have many friends that have children while both parents work full-time. I don’t know all the details from firsthand experience, but I do know that it can be very challenging to try and manage everything. To work a demanding job, to raise children, to maintain a clean household, to invest in your relationship with your spouse, and to try and find some time for yourself in there. I just think that those demands are a lot to ask of the “nuclear” family unit. That’s a lot to ask of one household- to be able to accomplish all of those physical, emotional, and spiritual tasks and to rely primarily on each other to do so. Sure, there’s some help in there- daycare, coworkers, friends, grandparents, etc. But ultimately, our society is structured so that the immediate members of the nuclear family are responsible for fulfilling the majority of the physical, emotional, and spiritual needs of the other members of the household. Wow, the weight of that felt even more intense after typing all that.

Here’s the other issue that I witness with this particular family structure setup. My full-time job is to support people that are grieving after the death of their loved one. And many of the people that I work with are grieving the loss of their spouse. And again, here is where our insular family structure has a negative impact on individuals when they do not fit within it. Many people feel so incredibly lonely after the loss of the their spouse. Now, don’t misunderstand - obviously, the loss of such a significant person in one’s life would engender feelings of loneliness. But I think that the loneliness and emptiness is exacerbated by societal structure.

I’ve worked with countless people that tell me that they are lonely because their own kids are grown and “are busy with their own families.” It’s ironic and sad, isn’t it? The same kids that were once prioritized as a part of the parents’ own nuclear family eventually start THEIR OWN nuclear family, and this seems to sever some of the original bond and sense of priority. And so, these men and women are left feeling as though they are their own single-person family unit after their spouse dies. I have countless people tell me that they feel like an “add-on” at family gatherings. I’ve had countless people tell me that they just don’t “matter to anyone” now that their spouse is gone.

I gave three very different examples in the blog post- one of singleness, one of working full-time with children, and one of death and grief. All three of these examples illustrate very different life circumstances, but I think that they are all united by the fact that they are limited and challenged by the insular nature of our culture’s family structure.

I write this as a pointed societal critique, which means that we are all subsumed under its implications. Do I think single people are bad people? Of course not. Do I think it’s bad to work full-time and have kids? Of course not. Do I think that it’s bad to feel sad after losing a spouse? Of course not.  Moreover, I could give several more examples that I didn’t even choose for this post- I am more than aware of the diversity of families and their makeup. When issues are this deep and structural, we are all victims of the issue.

The problem is in the way that our society structures its families. The family units are SO INSULAR and there is such a narrow understanding of what constitutes our immediate family.

   

I’m not sure what the answer is to address this issue. I do think that it would be helpful if we altered our living arrangements, and maybe we were more intentional about living with or by one another. I think that living closer to one another would help us feel more like people were a part of our daily lives, and thus an integral part of our “immediate” family. I also think that it would help out in terms of support and chores, particularly with the raising of children.

I also simply think that a cognitive shift is necessary as well. Do we really have to divide our family into hierarchies? If/when I get married, I don’t want to suddenly have my sisters become the second tier of importance in my life. My spouse would be very important, AND SO WOULD MY SISTERS. I wouldn’t necessarily need to rank them- I would just know that all of those people were very near and dear to my heart.  Maybe we just need to continue to expand the number of people that we love, and this means creating even more accommodations and compromise.

What thoughts do you have?