Normal & Perfect (Wisdom of the 12-Steps)

Bottom line: Let go of negative and unhelpful self-judgment.

I’m not talking about judgements about inappropriate behavior here. I’m talking about the nah, nah, nah and the unreasonable expectations we carry in our heads. I'm talking about the quality of our esteem of self and others.

As a treatment staff member in an adult drug/alcohol residential treatment facility some years ago, I often heard clients say they wanted to be normal, meaning like normal people. I usually responded that normal wasn’t what it's cracked up to be, and they should stay focused on healing themselves and avoid comparing themselves to others. I understood the majority of the general population likely considered themselves normal. But I knew humans aren’t perfect. I knew perfection is an ideal, a concept . . . an illusion. I knew full well the idea of normal was some vague notion of the general collective other, an imagined average of their characteristics, a construct we create in our heads.

Take heart. We’re all fallible humans, warts and all, dealing with life as it unfolds in its unpredictable way, which is beyond our control. We’re left to react to multiple events as best we can, while learning as we go. And that’s okay.

Just as some of us fall into the trap of striving to be normal, that ideal that lives in our heads, we should let go of the notion of achieving perfection.

British pediatrician and psychoanalyst D. W. Winnicott termed the phrase “good enough mother” in his famous book Playing and Reality. His point being that no mother, nor caregiver or father I’ll add, needs to be, nor likely can be, perfect for their child. And who can determine what is perfect over time, much less in a given moment. It’s a cumulative, on-going process. As long as the mother, or any caregiver, exhibits compassion, caring, empathy, and, most importantly, what we call unconditional love, the child can adapt, experience and learn to deal with challenges in a healthy manner. As well, the growing child needs to face some difficulties to properly develop into a cooperative, socially appropriate individual.

Our collective and individual hope, of course, resides in the fact that we humans are malleable, flexible, and adaptive. We are capable of adjusting, improving, forgiving, and, most importantly, achieving redemption. If the mother can’t provide what’s good enough, then other caregivers, a father, a grandparent, an aunt or uncle . . . or any number of members of the extended family, may be able to fill in the gaps. In a real sense, if a family can be defined as dysfunctional, not all of its members are dysfunctional to the same degree, nor all the time in their interaction to every other member.

Our challenge should be to do the best we can, be willing to fail and learn, be open to communicate, reach out for help, and willing to rely on others. Over time our connections to others will sustain us and allow opportunity to unload our individual burdens by sharing our secrets and expressing ourselves honestly without judgement.

If you don’t have friends or family you with whom you can do that, Twelve-Step meetings are a safe place. So is counseling/therapy. Years ago, I reached out when suicidal thoughts threatened to consume me in undergraduate school.

So, reach out and connect with others. Unburden yourself of your secrets. Learn to trust others. Drop the public mask you hide behind and let down your walls. Learn to love, accept yourself in spite of your warts and imperfections. There are others out there that not only can relate, but who are willing to listen.

I leave you with this: “You don’t need to save me, you just need to hold my hand while I save myself.” Attribution Unknown

Photo Credit - wallpaperaccess.com

Dysfunctional Families (Wisdom of the 12-Steps)

Bottom line: Don’t give up. We’re all capable of healing and recovery, but we have to reach out for the support that awaits.

We’ve heard the term, but what does dysfunctional mean, anyway? Merriam-Webster dictionary defines dysfunctional as “not functioning properly: marked by impaired or abnormal functioning.” It may be difficult to pinpoint, or put into words, what’s dysfunctional in a family or individual, but generally we know something’s amiss on a gut level.

Growing up with a father who frequently binged alcohol after cashing his Friday paychecks, then arguing and physically abusing my mother when she confronted him, I knew things were out of kilter. Their fighting scared and saddened me. I felt torn during those years between wanting to escape and avoid my confusion, hurt, sadness and my helplessness over their turmoil. I worked to steer clear of the intensity of Dad’s rages. At the same time, I wanted to prevent harm to Mom, as I was terrified of losing her altogether by Dad’s hand. In spite of, or because of, my feelings—doesn’t matter which—I searched for clues as to how I could intervene and stop the periodic madness.

As a young boy, I couldn’t explain normal . . . not to myself, and not to anyone else. Nor did I know how other fathers acted towards their children, except from glimpses I could get here and there. But my feelings told me that my nuclear family situation was wrong, wasn’t healthy, and desperately so. Like when I burned a finger after touching a hot stove, or scrapped a knee from a fall, I knew if something caused pain, then that something wasn’t good. And I knew to avoid repeating behavior which caused pain. I didn’t know what I could do to change my dad’s drinking, my parents’ arguments over it, or Dad’s abuse of Mom. I didn’t have the tools to communicate my feelings with others. Some invisible wall of silence had been erected, which trapped my mom, my brother and me, and prevented us from seeking effective assistance to change the equation. I couldn’t intervene physically. The best I could do? I hunkered down, observed, and empathized with Mom when I could. I calculated how, and moreover when, I might intervene . . . while at the same time pursuing my boyhood interests at school and during visits to my grandparents.

Visits to my grandparents, particularly my maternal grandparents’ farm, became my saving grace. The unconditional love I received there from extended family members uplifted me. Dad didn’t drink around my grandparents, that I knew of anyway. Moreover, my parents didn’t argue or fight while there. And so, those visits provided me a safe harbor, a place to anchor myself, lower my vigil, absorb healthier life lessons, and experience the closer-to-nature lifestyle of subsistence farming.

It’s been said that all families are dysfunctional in their own way. And at best, it’s probably a rare few who would claim they didn’t grow up dealing with chaos or experiencing trauma. Who among us can claim they grew up unscathed? Beyond that, none of us can claim we’ve never suffered a loss. Loss is an inevitable part of life.

Some individuals and families, without doubt, are more toxic and dysfunctional than others. And some individuals are harmed more than others. Children in particular are more likely to suffer to a greater degree as they have fewer resources to cope and escape. But we all have opportunity to reach out for support, even in small ways, to avoid further damage and begin our healing journey.

If you don’t have friends or family to whom you can reach out, Twelve-Step meetings are a safe place to start, particularly if counseling/therapy isn’t an option.

Years ago, my healing journey involved reaching out while in undergraduate school when suicidal thoughts threatened to consume me. So, reach out and connect with others. If nothing else, start with a phone call or a remote meeting. There are others out there who can relate and are willing to listen. Unburden yourself of your secrets. You’re only as sick as they are. Drop the public mask you hide behind and let down your walls. Learn to trust others. Learn to love, and accept yourself in spite of your warts and imperfections.

You can read more about my journey by visiting my website (my name .com) and reading my memoir, Once Upon a Kentucky Farm: Hope and Healing from Family Abuse, Alcoholism and Dysfunction (released early 2022).

I leave you with this quote from an unknown source: “You don’t have to save me, you only need to hold my hand while I save myself.”

Photo Credit: Quang Nguyen vinh (Quangpraha) - Pixabay

A Few “Lesser Known and Obscure Facts” (I learned) about the Mississippi River, and its Inhabitants.

Bottom line: In spite of COVID risks, we took measures to protect ourselves and enjoyed our trip.

During our “Christmas on the Miss” cruise, Janet and I traveled on the American Duchess down the Mississippi River from Memphis, TN to New Orleans, LA, known by locals as NOLA.

1) The Duchess is a stern-wheeler, with two wheels side by side located at the stern, as opposed to one paddle wheel on each side of the boat, aka a side-wheeler.

Janet poses with the American Duchess docked in Greenville, MS.

2) Headwaters of the Mississippi River flow from a spring that feeds Lake Itasca, Minnesota, elevation 1,475 feet. With a length of 2,341 miles, the Mississippi drops 7.560871422 inches per mile until it merges with the Gulf of Mexico beyond New Orleans.

3) The “Duck March” at the Peabody Hotel in Memphis is quite popular among people . . . as well as the ducks.

Peabody Hotel Duck March in Memphis,TN.

4) The Blues City Cafe in Memphis doesn’t believe in customers going away hungry. When I inquired about possible menu misprints, the waitress said, “We don’t have (ounce) steaks.” I thought better of ordering their largest sirloin. Then, the waitress mentioned something about a family meal. Indeed!

Really? Never mind the shrimp, fish, and chicken.

Beale and Main Streets near the Blues City Cafe in Memphis.

5) Janet and I "toured" the World's First Billy Bass Adoption Center at the Flying Fish Restaurant in Memphis.

The main Billy Bass display wall in the Flying Fish Restaurant.

Wouldn't cha' know? Another Elvis Impersonator!

6) Janet had to visit Elvis' Graceland. She just had to, no ifs, ands, or buts.

Elvis' Graceland home is much like many pre-Civil War

plantation homes across the deep south, after a fashion.

7) Elvis' taste in home decorating, 1970s era, was nothing to envy.

Elvis' 1970s Media Room (pre-internet social media).

8) Elvis owned and traveled via two planes.

The Lisa Marie, largest of Elvis' two jets.

9) Elvis owned horses, and purchased numerous cars and motorcycles during his short career. I can't comment about the color of his horses, as I saw none, but his choice of Cadillac color suggests he believed if you got it, flaunt it.

Elvis' Pink Cadillac.

10) The Delta, aka Yazoo-Mississippi Delta, of some 70,000 sq miles of alluvial floodplain in Arkansas, Louisiana, and primarily Mississippi, should not be confused with the Mississippi River Delta, which terminates some miles beyond New Orleans.

11) The Delta suffered major flooding in 1927, the most destructive in US history, when the levee first failed near Mounds Landing, some 17 miles from Greenville, Mississippi. Some areas were covered by as much as thirty feet of water and at least two months elapsed before the floodwater completely subsided.

The Mississippi Delta, not to be confused with

the Mississippi River Delta southeast of NOLA.

12) Greenville, Mississippi, boasts of “more published writers per capita” than any other town in the US, such notables include Shelby Foote.

Their published author's list as displayed at the

Greenville Writers Exhibit at the Percy Library.

13) Many consider The Delta as the birthplace of Blues music, and highly influential in the development of Rock and Roll, if not its birthplace as well.

14) The Mississippi River temporarily ran backwards after a series of New Madrid fault earthquakes between December 16, 1811 and February 7, 1812. Additionally, those tremors created 18-mile-long Reelfoot Lake in TN.

Reelfoot Lake near Tiptonville, TN. Note: Photo taken during a separate trip.

15) The NMSZ, New Madrid Seismic Zone, is not benign nor dormant. Ruptures have occurred numerous times and have been felt and recorded in personal journals as far away as Louisville, Kentucky and Cincinnati, Ohio.

16) Though many consider cotton the primary crop of the pre-Civil War South, corn and sugarcane figured prominently. Corn fed farm animals and sugarcane helped fuel the opulent plantation culture built upon slave labor. Touring a few notable houses on our trip, I was reminded of European royal palaces.

Nottoway Plantation Mansion. Note: Gentlemen, please

ascend on the right as to not glimpse bare feminine ankle.

17) Gators love marshmallows. Wait . . . why are they called “marsh” mallows?

Several swamp gators compete for a marshmallow. Note: the brown &

green is vegetation reflecting off the water, not muck in the water.

18) Cafe Du Monde’s beignets, French doughnuts, aka fritters, are popular in the French Quarter of NOLA. Janet and I opted to stand in the take-away line for almost an hour to purchase an order, as the sit-down line appeared longer. I’m sure both lines had formed hours before our arrival, with customers placing and consuming their orders all the while. And when Janet and I left, the lines had grown longer still.

Queue for Cafe Du Monde beignets when Janet and I arrived on the scene.

19) Janet and I found the World War Two Museum in NOLA interesting, as we spent nearly a whole day there. I liked the museum's display of US WWII planes.

Surely, that Avenger wasn't dropping a live bomb.

Probably not. Well, maybe not. I hoped not, anyway.

20) I'd expect to be hanged and quartered, if I didn’t mention Southern and Cajun cuisine, other than that above. Both Janet and I enjoy Cajun food, though only lightly spiced. However, Janet shies away from deep-fried breaded items, particularly catfish. Her catfish aversion has something to do with owning a pet catfish years ago, but that didn't deter me, at least on one occasion.

Prepared to chow down on fried alligator, crab cake and raw oysters, Connard photo

bombs Janet's foodie picture at the Coterie Restaurant & Oyster Bar, NOLA.

Note: Gator tastes like a cross between chicken and ground beef to me.