If nothing else, after 50 years fighting poverty, one thing’s clear: America hasn’t found the right WMD.
Poverty’s still the winner.
Among the most ill-advised social programs developed to counteract the effects of single parenthood on women is one that promoted marriage as an effective weapon. While it’s true that a healthy, stable marriage between two committed people helps in the battle against hopelessness and helplessness, there may be a population not committed to marriage in the first place.
Whoever conceptualized that encouraging the chronically ill-prepared to otherwise marry was delusional at best; a bureaucratic butt-kisser at worst.
What were they thinking?
Not in doubt is that solid relationships can be beacons, gateways to education, employment, mental and physical health. The kicker is that such relationships can’t just be imagined, wished for, or expected without knowing how solid relationship works and passing it on, for at least 5 generations that adopt healthy marital functioning.
Marriage, itself, is a complicated construct that, in the hard sense, pre-exists poverty. Lack of knowledge is a set-up to failure to anything (imagine wiring a house without knowledge of electricity), especially regarding something as profoundly complicated as building a better relationship. Put bluntly, how can anyone expect that partners raised in dysfunctional families would, by dint only of wanting to, create a functional one? That marriage is imbued with such magical powers that, by its very existence, an intricate human condition is untangled? Or that the people who inhabit those relationships remain, generation after generation, committed to their marriages?
Welcome to the Magic Kingdom.
Children learn what they see. Further, children seek more than anything to belong and to be loved. When the cost of having that is withstanding an environment that is counter to family/relationship health — e.g. abusive, withdrawing, uncommitted, adulterous, enabling, permissive, angry, addicted or violent – children often choose unhealthy over healthy. Immature brains learn that this is what marriage and family looks like. Even people who strongly react against their upbringing stand the risk of riding the pendulum to the other extreme, becoming overly compliant, accommodating, permissive, rigid, pious, rule-bound.
The knottiness of relationship is that each of us brings a perspective on these experiences that are often different from our partner’s. Often explosive, this confluence paves the way for increasingly unhealthy negative behaviors for each partner as well as the relationship.
Marital success is promoted when partners participate in learning relationship skills. Partial participation, which seems the rule, doesn’t count; it’s like being “sort of” dead. Besides, when a parent is struggling to provide the basics of life, little, if any, focus is given to the hard work needed to sustain a healthy union during formal couples education, let alone past its end.
Abraham Maslow put it elegantly when describing what needs to be in place before someone can even minimally “become”. The condition of being poor, pregnant and female plays out on a stage of basic needs where relationship improvement is trumped by paying the rent. In the same way, one wonders if self-esteem can be extrinsically motivated in generations raised dysfunctionally.
Poverty in America is generations-old; institutionalized; a mind-set. It would stand to reason that any upward movement on the psychosocioeconomic ladder would also be a lengthy process. A multidimensional process. And a difficult one. As we see development of the New Poor, Americans’ marital behavior will be interesting to track. Will there be a relinquishment of the values that inspire healthy relationship? Will difficulty bind people closer together? And what will happen to the trillions of dollars spent on social welfare programs that, fifty years out, have been unsuccessful in eliminating poverty?
That social success in other countries is not surprising given the unique social structure and size of the United States. While a nation as small as Finland, for example, may be socialistic success in reducing the strife of single parenthood, Finland is not the United States. Not in vastness of size, diversity, political structure, and multiculturalism. Even in the best of situations, marriage is no less multidimensional or difficult; with behavioral and attitudinal improvement also measured in generations.
While I offer no resolution to the multiple dimensions encompassing poverty (my magic wand is broken) better minds than mine have tried and failed.
I do know that a uni-dimensional solution to single mothers’ poverty through marriage insults the problem and ignores the complexity of the fix itself.
For more insights, read Julie Baumgardner’s response to the Council on Contemporary Marriages position on this subject. Ms. Baumgardner is the Chair of the National Association for Relationship and Marriage Education.Kathe Skinner is a Marriage & Family Therapist in private practice in Colorado. Over almost two decades, she has seen low percentages of middle-class couples who have engaged in relationship education continue to apply what they learn. She calls the ones who have, like Adam and Leslie, “Super Stars” and their existence is cause for a smile every day. For almost 30 years, Kathe and her husband, David, have been committed to each other and to their marriage. As Jethro Tull once said, nothing is easy. Read more about their programs for couples at http://www.BeingHeardNow.com. ©2014, Being Heard, LLC
What’s a hand doing in deep space?
And what’s it attached to?
Is God just a big hand?
Wait a minute. Is that a hand at all?
The so-called “Hand of God” is the result of a combination of NASA’s Nuclear Spectroscopic Telescope Array, or NuStar, combined with Chandra X-ray Observatory’s imaging. God (and Superman) only knows what that pulsaristic, X-ray, and magnetic energy stuff’s about.
That we humans jump quickly to proof of what we so desperately want proof of is telling.
When familiar objects are seen in otherwise vague ways, a phenomenon known as pareidolia is at work. Examples include seeing the face of Jesus in an apple core or your neighbor’s poodle in a cloud. When the need to believe is strong enough, we “see” what reinforces what we believe. Those who are especially adept at recognizing and interpreting such “signs” are attributed with magical abilities that enable them to understand the past, explain the present, and foresee the future. They’re called shamans, therapists, or witches, and every culture has them.
Anyone who holds the hand of God is powerful indeed.
Our fervency at making a disconnected connection can be seen everywhere in our lives, not just in questions about transcendence. When we’re always looking for signs, signs are always found. For some of us, magical thinking beats realism every time: I’m always a bit miffed when my husband can “explain scientifically” what tingles to believe. Like yeti or synchronicity.
A peek at the animal kingdom demonstrates how natural it is to go for glitzy — brightly colored and smiling is more alluring than earth-toned and frowning. If you still aren’t convinced, go to Vegas. Shake its pockets and the likely fallout will be all manner of charms, amulets and carved stones. If you’ve ever played anniversary or birth dates in the lotto, you’re exercising the same belief in magical power.
How powerful is it to “know”?
People have been hung or burned alive for failing to share explanations we want, figure they have, but would rather die than tell. Curiously, we never fault our dysfunctional thinking when plague continues after we’ve roasted all the cats.
Distressed couples or the chronically ill may get caught up in the myths of “other reasons”, blaming themselves or those around them for what is ultimately ours to carry, even when understanding is absent. Better communication in marriage or the development of chronic illness are examples.
Nevertheless, many of us feel helpless when comprehension fails. So far-reaching is our need to know that we look outside ourselves for a “magic cure”, “quick fix”, or to blame. It’s as if we were cognitively incapable of apprehending knowledge by ourselves, alone.
Facing the Great Unknown is frightening.
We call for help that protects, soothes, and explains.
And that’s as good a reason as any to search out the Hand of God.Kathe Skinner is a Marriage and Family Therapist and Certified Relationship Specialist. She’s especially keen on working with couples whose relationship includes invisible disability (e.g., cancer, lupus, hearing loss, depression). Kathe and her husband, David, live in Colorado with their two cats, Petey and Lucy. They know that holding the hand of god is as easy as adopting a pet. ©BeingHeard LLC, 2014
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2013 annual report for this blog.
A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 3,500 times in 2013. If it were a cable car, it would take about 58 trips to carry that many people.
There’s still a long way to go in making people aware of invisible disabilities. And that so many of us experience them.
Of course, ILIKEBEINGSICKANDDISABLED is about much more than invisible disability. That’s as it should be because our lives are so much more than how we feel or what chronicity label we carry.
If you read my blog because of my sly humor or because something has touched you , made you laugh or think or angry, I’m happy for that. I challenge you to share with someone you know who might appreciate something I’ve said. Oh…and please let me know what you think about something I think.
Thank you, readers, for putting on a smile on the face of the last day of 2013.
Kathe Skinner is a Marriage & Family Therapist and Relationship Coach in private practice. Diagnosed with multiple sclerosis for over 35 years she’s like many who experience invisible illness — most of what happens in her life is not directly attributable to being disabled. With her long-suffering husband (that doesn’t have anything to do with illness, either), they’ve been married almost 28 years, sharing their Colorado home with two resourceful hooligan cats, Petey and Lucy. Read more about the Skinners at http://www.beingheardnow.com
© 2013 Being Heard, LLC
I think Tiny Tim got really chilled waiting in line on Black Friday.
And Cyber Monday.
Come to think of it, somebody told me he was at the mall the other day, too. Amazing, since he hit the deck real hard when he lost a tug of war over some on-sale Levi’s. Gotta give him credit for gettin’ back on the horse.
We had coffee at his house the other day. I didn’t say anything, but you shoulda seen the place. Like Santa’s workshop, but no ho ho ho. Bags from Macy’s and Target and Aeropostale with who-knows-what in ’em. Honestly, I don’t think Tim even knows.
Tim told me he couldn’t resist. “So what’s left over’ll go into the storage locker with last year’s stuff. No big deal.”
I don’t wanna say anything, but he seemed a little stressed. Okay, okay, a lot stressed. Nasty nightmares, even when he could sleep. Way overspending. I gotta say, the marriage ain’t lookin’ so good, either. Vicky’s back at her mother’s; said she just couldn’t bear to hear one more ***damn ring-a-ling-ling. What? I didn’t tell you? Tim sat on a bag of bells, didn’t notice, and they somehow worked their way into…well, you know where. Actually a nice sound when he moved; a little muted, but what the hey.
All that shopping, gotta be listed somewhere they talk about sicknesses. But you know Tim; can’t tell him anything.
If you ask me, I think all this joy and peace and fa la la la la is killing him.
So, hey, me and the missus, we’re gonna do this 90% off warehouse sale. Gonna go early. Like before the sun’s up. Wanna come?
Kathe Skinner is a Marriage & Family Therapist and Certified Relationship Coach. She has a small stash of presents for somebody-in-the-future but has considerably whittled down her holdings. She’s a firm believer in the concept of ceasing all manufacturing of giftable goods, believing everyone should recycle stuff by shopping at one big garage sale. She and husband, David, live in Colorado with Petey and Lucy, kitties who leave little presents for them all year round.
©2013 Being Heard, LLC
I keep a book in my office and if I had a coffee table, it would be on it.
It’s red, with a coffee spill down the front that’s dried into a Rorschach-kind of thing. Nifty for it to be in a therapist’s office.
Inside, dozens of clients have written their “should’s”.
It’s not instructive to describe what they said; more than likely, their self-flagellations are the same as yours. What catches the new subscribers is how similar their self-flagellations are. Put another way, there’s nothing special in their dysfunctional thinking.
Back when I was exploring how should’s get perpetuated, I was stunned and amazed to find myself described in the exact words I’d always used in describing my neuroses (notice I used the plural). Admittedly, there was disappointment in seeing myself laid out like some common Rorschach wench. I suspect that others, too, hold their depression, anxiety, mania, whatever, as a sort of badge of differentiation from others.
For others, as it was for me, depression is powerful; it was the coin of my realm and the way I bought into the realm I inhabited growing up. Depression can get attention, especially when nothing else seems to. That can be true in a marriage where one partner exists with an invisible disability. And just like for the kid who acts out, it’s attention of some kind, even if it bears a high price.
Being a therapist, consequently, has been double-edged: one edge cuts through the dysfunctional thinking, the should’s, the irrespective unfairnesses; while the other is sad to see those defenses so cut down. What I do in my office forces me to be embarrassed at my own mental laziness. Being depressed is hard; so is being anxious or manic.
But hey, it’s hard even when you’re not.
Kathe Skinner is a Marriage & Family Therapist and Relationship Coach in Colorado Springs, Colorado. She comes by depression naturally as well as artificially and has recently added anxiety, for which she can thank multiple sclerosis. Petey and Lucy, the two hooligan cats Kathe and David share their lives with, are too annoying to let depression settle too quietly in their home. Kathe and David get out of the house by teaching partners the communication skills their relationships need.
I’d forgotten all about them, so when my husband plunked down dusty, dirty old boxes for me to go through, I inwardly groaned at more work. What I found caused me to turn off the TV, plop down on the floor, and get teary.
Some things are personal. It’s okay, healthy even, to keep private some things, especially from your partner. You disrespect all three of you by telling all, or worse: using an old relationship to make your partner angry or jealous. What passed between you and an old love is about as private as it gets and ought to be kept that way – unless it’s an STD in which case your partner knows something anyway.
Here’s why those almost 50-year old letters are meaningful to my marriage today.
That was then. Old love letters bookmark a time never to be recaptured. Memories are wrapped in words that are still breathtaking, kind of like a favorite old movie watched over and over again. That was long before kids and careers, mortgage payments and personal tragedies – all the water that’s gone under the bridge. Anyone who’s tried knows wishing doesn’t make it so. If you have the chance to go to a school reunion, take it. It’ll make you careful about what you wish for and maybe keep you from trading one used car for another.
20/20 Vision. How many times have we wished for hindsight? Knew then what we know now? Old love letters give you an opportunity to jump between realities; to see that your life has become far richer in experience than what it was then. You wouldn’t make the same decisions today because you’re more knowing and because you know more, too. Seeing clearly isn’t just about having new glasses; they only work when you wear them. Maybe the past gets romanticized because it was so free of all we see and know today. Most of what happened long ago was drama without impactful consequences; no wonder those were the best days of our lives.
An ego-boost. Those old love letters described things that, ahem, were personal. Very personal. After reading them, I’m likely to dial up some oldies, suck in what I can of my tummy, and turn my best side to the mirror. But, at 60 years old plus, I can’t see much of the hot-looking girl in the picture I hold. Those letters dialed back the scale, dialed back the clock, and let me be Cinderella waltzing a horizontal dance with someone who’s not the prince of my heart today. Part of what’s swoon-worthy are the words themselves – I can always be bought that way. That I was described so beautifully made me feel beautiful every time I read them. They still do.
Appreciation for today. My high school years were spent in Hawaii – a place imbued with the honeymoon-like magic of new love – during the powerful and poignant Age of Aquarius. Juxtaposed with rule bending and breaking was the rule-bound experience of Viet Nam. But my memories, all these 40+ years later, pumped as they were by the unique history of the late 60s, are no less vivid and meaningful as anyone else’s. Reminders of the past, like the letters I re-read, show me how much more I have to love now. And even how much better at it I am.
Didn’t Want Him, Anyway. Back then, love was pretty black and white; no mortgages, usually no kids, definitely no wisdom. Today’s love, mature love, knows that love can be fickle and to keep it requires attention and effort. If I’d gotten on a white horse (or in a VW van) and ridden off with my first love, the scenery would look nothing like it does now. I like the bourgeois creature comforts most aging hippies fell for, too. Honestly, while I would’ve made a few changes along this long, long way, starting over with the boy who wrote those heartbreakingly beautiful letters wouldn’t have been one of them.
Having moments of nostalgia and longing for the past are natural. Keeping those moments alive is part of the romantic, fanciful, non-threatening part in each of us. Humans are unique in the ability to fully remember the past. But know that bringing it forward, unaltered, never works.
I finished reading the notes the other night, then broke down the dusty box and put it in the recycle bin. The few I saved still whisper about what was and will get packed away until I again need to feel delicious. The touching wish left behind is about gifting the past’s richness to my marriage today.
Kathe Skinner is a Marriage & Family Therapist and Certified Relationship Expert who shares with couples how to keep love alive and growing. She encourages them to write love letters. Kathe, and her husband, David, have been married nearing 30 years; their love is shared with cats Lucy and Petey, both of whom send messages in other ways. In that dusty box Kathe found the first card ever sent to her by David; odd she kept it since it wasn’t romantic at all.