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Ivan Drago mode

Apr10
A not-so-funny thing happened on the first Friday of Lent.  I had not yet experienced my Lenten Miracle so an incident that occurred prompted a reaction more intense than You’re Ruining My Advent.  I went into Ivan Drago mode. 
Ivan Drago, for you non-Rocky franchise fans, is the foe in Rocky 4. 
He is the Russian fighting machine played by Ms. Grace Jones’ then-boyfriend , Rhodes Scholar-turned-model Dolph Lundgren.  Drago is methodical, ruthless, and cold as the Siberian tundra.
Drago’s statement of purpose
Not only was he physically superior to Philly’s finest, Rocky Balboa, but Drago was mentally Teflon.  
No heart of gold here.  In fact, you could argue Drago was heartless.  
Serving up sideeye
When questioned about the possibility that he could fatally injure Rocky in their international title bout, Drago utters his famous line, “If he dies, he dies.” 
What I could possibly gain or learn from such a character?  I know there’s value in protecting myself and handling business.  After all, I struggle with rattlesnake in pocket syndrome(Marsupium Crotalus); I’ve been betrayed by those I trusted, even as recently as this year. I also struggle with fear of intimidating personalities.  I am making it a priority to tap into my fighting spirit. (#innermongoose) At some point, I need to fully commit to the professional and personal work before me.   I need to focus on completing my goals. So yes, I will go Ivan Drago if the situation warrants it.  

The plague on all our houses

Jan17
I know your pain.  My hand has been ripped to shreds.  My back hurts from all the puncture wounds.  My hand spins when I think of all the time expended, all the words unheeded, all the energy I could have spent on my family, myself, even household chores.  Most of us have suffered from this condition at one time or another; in fact, many of us will continue to battle it for the rest of our lives. The scientific name is Marsupium crotalus, more commonly known as rattlesnake in pocket. (See also being played, taken for a ride, used and abused, bamboozled, or doormat syndrome.) 
The condition is symptom-free at its onset. After initial contact with the viper, the patient may not notice any negative changes. They may interact with the infected reptile for months, even years, before the bite occurs.  Marsupium crotalus is the result of the slow-acting toxins released from the snakebite.  Marsupium crotalus may include the following symptoms: chest pains, headaches, stiff neck, clenched jaw, back spasms, depression, anxiety, anger, irritable bowel syndrome, and a host of other physical and emotional complications. While treatable through a regimen of self –care, including therapy, it can recur through a person’s lifetime.
You may wonder why anyone would willfully put a rattlesnake in one’s pocket. There are a number of reasons why someone would take such a risk. The person may suffer from empathy, the need to nurture, hope in someone’s untapped potential, or consistently feel the urge to help others. Many people want to “pay it forward” in an effort to give back to the community at large. Occasionally, people who have pre-existing conditions may have compromised immunity to Marsupium crotalus. In any case, it is highly unlikely that the rattlesnake will successfully sublimate its instinctual need to attack. Sooner or later, someone is going to get hurt.
I too have Marsupium crotalus.  My therapist asked me a few months ago how one recognizes a rattlesnake.  I said the rattling tail is the giveaway.  She pointed out that the rattlesnake gives fair warning. I agreed that I don’t have any good reason to pick up the damn thing. The snake, and all the snakes I have known, revealed from day one what it was. The key is learning to head in the other direction when I hear those cascabeles shaking. 

I have previously written about my failings in helping others. (betrayal blues) I have been disappointed and devastated by the negative outcomes of helping relatives, professional colleagues, romantic partners, and friends. I wish I could say I am completely healed from Marsupium crotalus. After all I have experienced, some of which has been chronicled in previous writing, I thought I was cured. The last several months have taught me that I still need to work on being aware, assertive, and self-protective.  There is nothing wrong with wanting to be a resource to someone who is struggling. I can’t control how the person I help will respond. I can control how far I will go in offering my support. Sometimes the best choice I can make is the one to walk away, to not engage, and to care from a safe distance. 

Battling the betrayal blues

Sep27
“They smile in your face
All the time they want to take your place
The backstabbers (backstabbers)” The O’Jays
My dad likes to tell a story of my 4-year-old reaction to my first visit to Lima’s Plaza de Armas back in the early 70s(before the city and park underwent a necessary rejuvenation.) He said there were several homeless people, many of them begging for spare change, and one woman bathing in the fountain before the police grabbed her.  He said I looked around and told him I wanted to help each person.  He said I asked why we couldn’t do that.  I may not remember this incident but I know that my call to help others has shaped who I am and what I do for a living. 
I lose sight of my purpose now and then. Sometimes the people I have helped have disappointed me or hurt me.  This is especially hard when those I have mentored are the culprits. 
Julius Caesar
Macbeth
Frankenstein
I have weathered ingratitude and betrayal on many levels:  stifled communication, verbal aggression, attacks on my reputation through gossip and lies. 
All About Eve
My (trifling) relative still tells various extended family members how cold and aloof I have become towards her over the years even though I paid her debt to a creditor.  Sometimes, all the unnecessary drama makes me want to give up on others altogether.  Pero no pueden conmigo.  I can’t and won’t change who I am because of others.
Forgiveness doesn’t come easy to me. It takes me weeks, months, years, even decades of reflection and prayer. It takes all my strength to remain civil and calm when I see these few people who have betrayed my trust.  It takes a sense of humor and optimism. It takes a commitment to self-care.  I move forward and continue reaching out the way I always have.    

The problem with Sea Monkeys

Feb4


(All group and individual names have been changed)

When I was seven years old, the back cover of the Archie or Richie Rich comics often featured an ad for Sea Monkeys.  You opened a packet into a bowl of water and splash! Instant pets! I sent away for them once. The little shrimp looked like brown sprinkles of cinnamon or cumin, not like the ad’s images at all. They died within days.  The experience didn’t stop me from sending away for toys and trinkets advertised on comics or cereal boxes. But I learned that friends don’t appear by simply adding water.

Fast forward a decade and a few years to college. I was one of many cute Candy Store Girls, a cashier/clerk at the University’s Student Store in the candy and greeting card department. The CS girls were all cute and friendly, either Latina or Asian, some also members of the same sorority, all of us a tight-knit group that liked to drink, dance, and blast disco music while we stocked the Jelly Bellies and wrapped up truffles for our clientele of harried professors, starving students, and Berkeley’s most famous eccentrics and/or celebrities (Rick Starr, the Naked Guy, Jason Kidd).  Soon, the CS Girls became managers and only hired their friends.  But once in a while, the non-student management weighed in and that is how Cheryl got a coveted spot in our department. 

Cheryl was not your typical CS girl. She was a mousy little freshman with straight brown hair, small green eyes, and a sprinkling of freckles on her button nose. She hailed from a small town in the Central Valley and wore t-shirts in neutral colors and faded jeans over white canvas sneakers. We got to know each other over curling ribbon on the quarter pound bags of candy.  I could tell she was overwhelmed by our campus so I gave her advice on classes and the best places to study.  In gratitude, she bought me a Chinese fast food dinner. 

From that first work day together, Cheryl became my loyal new friend. She wanted to know everything about me. She wanted to meet me outside of work to hang out at a café or share a meal.  I was a first-year grad student so I was busy with my two jobs, coursework, and student-teaching but she would call me on the phone when I declined her invitations. I liked her and wanted to support her. Soon, her behavior went from charming to irritating. She wanted to know all about Peruvian culture and food and asked if she could meet my family some weekend.  She loved my clothes and shoes so she went out and bought her own.   When she started chatting up my ex-boyfriend Julius, a security guard at the campus store notorious for his womanizing ways, I really became disturbed. The other CS girls joked that I was just jealous but they had not experienced Cheryl’s neediness the way I had.

One afternoon, I stopped in to check the schedule.  Cheryl presented me with a tissue-wrapped object.  It was a simple sterling silver ring. She proclaimed me her best friend. Freaked out, I made an excuse and left.  I threw the ring away and stopped taking Cheryl’s calls.  Within days, there was an awkward conversation at work in which she focused on Julius as the problem between us.   In delayed response, I wrote her a note requesting that she leave me alone.   If we worked a shift together, we did so in relative silence.  Eventually, she took a position in a different department and I never saw her again. 

Sometimes I wonder if I wasn’t too harsh with Cheryl.  She was younger than me. She really needed a friend. She wasn’t a terrible person, just lonely.  I could not and did not want to live up to her expectations. I can only hope that she learned that friendship doesn’t happen in an instant.