Looking When We Should Be Looking Away

Why Do We Crave to Know More About Others’ Misfortunes?

The other day I was enduring the endless wait in solitary confinement at an Urgent Care Facility. Despite the nurse saying that the Doctor would be “right in,” I had been eyeing that shiny red Biohazard bucket since she’d shut the door on her way out. The bucket with its triangular arrow-shaped sign was the brightest thing in the room.  It could be empty, or it could be full. Maybe it contained body parts that had been chopped off by shrub trimmers, or foreskin, or crusted over scabs from a dog bite…or maybe it just contained soiled Q-Tips and bloody bandages from a fall on the cement. Either way, it was the fact that someone’s misfortune had contributed to its contents that consumed me.

This is the reason that drivel like reality shows, and soap operas and Jerry Springer can consistently bring in the bucks and the audience. Because people want to see others suffering more than they are. If Ashley slept with her mother’s boyfriend, and a mother-daughter catfight ensues, then for those few moments between commercials we can forget that we have problems of our own. And reveling in someone else’s problems, with its disconnection from our own reality, provides us with an escape if just for a few minutes.

I held back from peeking into the Biohazard bin, because someday, something of mine could be in there. And I would want dignity and respect to prevail over the torrid curiosity of others who would revel in my misfortune.

Learning Not to be Offended by Others’ Habits

The increasing popularity of electronic cigarettes led me to read more about the safety benefits of using them vs traditional tobacco cigarettes.  In a statement last January, Dr. Jonathan Winickoff of Harvard Medical School called the Crown7 “a thousand times safer than cigarettes.”  You can see the article here: ‘Just like the real thing’: Businesses push ‘e-cigarettes’.  My topic here isn’t whether e-cigarettes are or are not safer than tobacco, but rather how people judge those who smoke at all.

Reading the comments left on the site after the article, the page was laden with forked-tongue remarks about how weak and pathetic smokers are.  These people have decided that if you smoke, you have decided to purposely disgrace humanity with your presence in the form of second-hand smoke and tar-stained hands.  You were created to offend others simply by your habit.  Where is the compassion for those who may be struggling with a habit that’s tougher to kick than heroin?

Again, my argument here is not whether second-hand smoke is dangerous (although several recent studies have claimed that the dangers are not as real as once thought), but rather why people must feel offended at the choices of another.  Of course, smokers–along with drinkers, and those who shove down three cheeseburgers at McDonalds, and those who crack their knuckles, and those who drink wine and get behind the wheel of their car, or those that slip out an expletive now and then, or those caught by surprise by public flatulence–should keep their habits to themselves.

How many of us does that leave, then, with no habits that may offend someone?

And why are people looking so hard to be offended?  Is it because they want to elevate their own self-worth by attempting to diminish another’s?  Are we projecting here?

Simply put, if one is content with oneself, then there is no need to be offended by another’s behaviour–ever.

Choose Death and You Distribute Guilt

Recently an acquaintance chose to end her own life.  She had tried for many years to do so, and her family scrambled each time she disappeared to find her before she succeeded.  This time they failed to locate her in time, and she ended her own life locked in a hotel room.  Whether it was depression or mental illness I don’t know, and it really doesn’t matter.  What does matter is that her death affected everyone who knew her in some way.  For her family members, of course it was devastating.  To others more distant, there must be an odd curiosity as to how, or why it happened, and speculation as to what she encountered or felt during the act.

I am not here to judge; living a guilt-free life means that one can choose one’s own death if she chooses that option.  But if you’re in this same situation, please heed my words:

Guilt travels.

What I mean here is that leaving this life may seem like an escape to you, but consider what you will be leaving behind.  Of course you will leave grieving family members, but also you will leave them with unanswered questions that could never be answered in a suicide note.  You will leave guilt, my friend.  Guilt that lingers in your family members, your friends, and others you may not even know you’re affecting.  They may replay the events of the past in their heads:  Why didn’t I get her some help?  Why didn’t I lock her in a room until we could get assistance?  Why didn’t I ensure that she had someone to talk to, no matter the cost?

Now an adult knows that no one can really stop one who wants to end her life if she really wants to end it, but that, my friend, doesn’t stop the guilty emotions from surfacing in the ones you leave behind.  And if you want to leave this world to inflict guilt on others, know this:

You’re going to come back with the same lessons you have to learn in this life…and you’re going to have to face them again.  So you may as well face them now.

So, if dear friend, you are considering the act of suicide, please seek help from someone…anyone…for you are not alone, and you never were.  And send guilt –not your spirit–where it belongs–out of this world.

What’s Your Daily Guilt Scale?

Are you perfect?  If so, you can stop reading now because you and I have nothing in common.

If you’re like the rest of us, then you probably go through your day feeling bouts of both goodness and guilt.  You may look in the mirror in the early morning, give yourself a wink of self-approval, and yet at lunch you catch a glimpse of yourself  in the bathroom mirror and you feel like an inner tube in a blouse.  Goodness can be replaced with guilt in a matter of minutes based on the decisions we make.  If you are like me,  then you may decide to skip the gym because you almost fell asleep while driving home.  Or perhaps you are staring at an empty bottle of wine when you planned on having only one glass.  Or a cigarette came out of nowhere and lit itself up in front of you.

When such things happen to me, the guilt takes over and I could spiral down quickly into misery–because instead of following the straight and narrow of a freak of nature that traipses the path laid out by perfect vegan yogis, nuns and healthy triathlete doctors and have no history of risky behavior, there’s me.  I admit–even to myself–that I 0ccasionally stumble off the path, trampling the posies and stepping on  fuzzy bunnies in my failure to follow the directions of those who want me to live to be 117 so that I can buy their products.

And although I am a proponent of a guilt-free life, I experience a sense of guilt every day; yet I have remodeled my guilty inclinations into a useful scale to moderate my behavior.  My scale is represented by numbers from 1 through 10, with 1 being the absolutely most guilt-ridden and miserable a person could be, and 10 being the happiest bliss-infused rainbow-riding earth spirit that lights up the room she enters.

Now I start my morning with a rating of 10 if I’ve gotten enough sleep and I remember my wrinkle lotion.
If I eat relatively healthy food and avoid inhaling an entire pizza, my Guilt Scale stays on the high side, although other factors such as being rude to a colleague, not carrying my load at work, or flipping someone off in traffic can drag the scale down as the  day goes by. If I go to the gym rather than crapping out, the scale remains steady, because by doing so, I have contributed to my own health and happiness by my own doing.  No one forces me to go, and if I decide one day that I just don’t feel like exercising, and mentally I am OK with that, then it’s not necessary for me to reduce the guilt scale.

The whole premise behind the Guilt Scale is that we are in charge of our own lives.  We make decisions about how to treat ourselves and others, and we can use the Guilt Scale to self-assess our behavior and how we feel about who we are right now.  If we progress through our day and loosely rate the feelings and emotions related to our actions, we can reflect on whether or not we are living according to our values.  And if we live according to our values, then we show integrity.

Please let me know if this is helpful to you.

Guilt-Free Secret Keeping

As we age, one of the things we (hopefully) learn is how to keep a secret. When a friend confides in you, they are demonstrating their trust in you. Yet we love to show others how much we know, whether to gain status, recognition or prestige. In my twenties, this was the thing to do–to pass on my knowledge of another’s secret situation to show that I could be trusted. What lunacy!

Now that I have passed 40, I have learned to keep my mouth shut because NOT saying anything gets me much further in life with those I really care about. Case in point:

Once, in one of my early retail jobs, a friend confided in me that he would be leaving the company. Juicy information, no doubt, since management had no idea of his impending resignation. But I wanted his hours, which were more desirable than mine. So I went right to the supervisor to ask if I could change my hours to his “if” he left. Oh, I thought I was smooth, planting that seed. But my supervisor detected my excitement, and put two and two together. Needless to say, it ended badly, because my colleague was led out the next day with no notice due to “security reasons,” and not only did I lose a friend in him, my supervisor considered me a tattletale and my hours stayed the same.

Well maybe it took me twenty years of like situations to get it through my thick skull that the value keeping a secret extends beyond a simple trust issue; and the Universe decided to test my strength on this factor once more. Fast forward to this year, when a friend let me know she was leaving her job to start her own business. Oooh, here’s the rush again, for I knew something that will impact not only my team but the possibly the entire company that employed her. But this time, I sat back and measured the consequences. Who would benefit from my keeping my mouth shut this time? Well, obviously she would, since she could continue making her business plans while still employed there; I would, since I can show that I am trustworthy. Who would suffer? The company might, as it finds itself understaffed for a time until she could be replaced.

I asked myself: who is more important to me?

Well, in the grand scheme of things, friendship trumps a job anytime. Even in this depressed economy, I wouldn’t be sitting on my deathbed worrying about whether my boss thought I was a good employee. I would be concerned that my friends considered me a reliable, loving companion. So another lesson learned, and one step closer to guilt-free secret keeping.




The Recession May Be Over but the Guilt Lives On

Experts say that the recession is over.  What great news that is for those of us who may be a little tired of the black cloud of depression looming over us, but despite this wonderful revelation, the thunder is still rumbling.  This article in Newsweek touts that “The Recession Is Over!  But Not for You!”

Why not for me?  Can’t I be happy too?

And plopped right in the center of the article is a photo montage of the greediest people that are to blame for all of this mess.  The article continues to keep us beaten down and cringing:  “Having survived a near-death economic experience, Americans now need to focus on surviving what’s likely to be a pokey, painful recovery.”

Talk about a dose of guilt for those who actually don’t live every day just to survive!  Now I’m not knocking those that are down on their luck, but I am emphasizing here that we can decide which rain goggles we choose to look through.  Do yours show sun in the near distance, or just more rain?

Prejudice at the Gym

I work out at a gym that is full of stereotypes.  There’s the “meatheads” that pump up their biceps and then spend their rest time flexing them in front of the mirror.  There’s the college girls with the sports bra and low-rise yoga pants and sculpted stomachs.   Teased-up ponytailed lithe fairy yoga girls and over-aerobicized models lacking child-bearing hips.  Of course there’s normal people, too, with oversized t-shirts and sweaty backs toting their bottled water from machine to machine.

But there’s one regular denizen of my gym who was sure to send me into a tizzy every time I saw her.  She is maybe 5’2″, 90 pounds, with smooth tanned skin and size 56 DDD additions to her chest that she has a difficult time covering, if she had an inkling to attempt covering them at all.  Smacking gum like a junior-high student, she would work with the free weights, the exercise ball, the cable machines, all the time viewing herself in the ample mirrors.  Everyone–especially the meatheads–knows her, and she is jovial to anyone that speaks to her.  She never speaks to me, since I spend most of my time glaring at her and never attempted to strike up a conversation.  Of course my boyfriend knows her well, because they use the same machines in the northeast corner of the gym.

She’s a stripper–no surprise– but to me she was a threat for no good reason.  For she embodied the kind of person that spent all of her time focusing on her external appearance in order to please others.  After all, that’s how she makes her money,  pleasing others with the body she spends so much time perfecting.  She was the embodiment to me of the perfect little love doll that every man wanted purely for pleasure; and that to me was somehow sleazy, undermining healthy relationships with the allure of easy sex.  But as I watched this woman so different from me, I recognized a trigger in myself from some past experience where I had felt like I was not enough–and I redirected my thoughts to remind myself that we are all one.  She was simply different than me, but still a human with wants and needs and issues.  Perhaps she wasn’t the Jezebel I wanted her to be.  For all I knew she was putting herself through law school, or paying her grandmother’s nursing home expenses and dancing was a way to make that happen with the gifts she was given.

So a few days ago, I stopped glaring at her, and started smiling at her.  I haven’t received a smile back yet, but I am sure it will come in time when she realizes that I accept her for who she is, not what she looks like or how she earns her living.

Saying No to Yourself

It seems like when we were kids, we heard “no” far more often than we ever heard “yes.”  Of course, I know that it was in our own best interest that our parents made these decisions on our behalf, since they were protecting us from things and situations that we didn’t know were harmful.  But to a kid, it’s just a bummer to be shot down when our thirst for learning and new experiences is at an all-time high.  So when we grow up, we don’t want to have to say no to ourselves…after all, we are making decisions for ourselves now, and we are willing to accept the consequences for our poor decisions.

This, of course, leads to all sorts of vices, as many of our decisions are made for the purposes of instant gratification–ask anyone with a sizable handbag collection and I’m sure they will concur–rather than what’s really best for us.  We don’t want to miss out on any situations that could bring us joy or freedom; but this can lead to decisions that we later regret.

Take a serious night of drinking for example, or the Ding Dong-eating binge one night when those little black and white rolled cakes just looked too good to leave any in the box.  And then the next day comes along, and we wish we had said “no” to ourselves much like our parents had.  And what’s worse, we don’t learn the first time we do it, either.  It can take multiple examples of the same miserable experience to learn that some actions just don’t serve us.  If perhaps we could learn from our experience the first time, then when that second chance at failure is presented to us, we can make an alternate decision–which may actually include the word “no.”