The world was shocked to hear that there was an assassination attempt on Presidential candidate, Donald Trump. I was more than shocked, although not surprised. For as many fans as the man has he has an equal to, or greater than group of haters.
If you love him? Cool. I don’t.
What followed online were memes, and some comments that, as much as I dislike Trump and all he stands for, I felt the need to correct. Or at least, prognosticate about how wrong it is to cheer any act of violence, no matter who the victim is. Wish harm on no one, ever. Karma is listening.
I guess I have always been that way. I remember conversations with my Dad about serial killers in the United States and the death penalty. You see, my Dad believed that someone who is that evil, should be killed and that the death penalty was warranted. I disagreed and positioned an argument that infuriated my father.
“If we kill people because killing is wrong, we are no better than the killer, right Dad?”
He ended the conversation abruptly, with some short-sighted insult on my intelligence. It’s okay though. By that time I had already learned that an insult, or a tantrum from him, usually meant I was right. It was a valuable lesson because that still holds true.
Pardon if this sounds sexist, but my experience has taught me that angry outbursts to cover up guilt (or criticism) are more common among men. Some cannot be corrected by a woman, no matter how wrong they are. It is also a sign of a very fragile ego. I don’t have that affliction (I like being correct).
I don’t cheer violence to anyone, at any time for any reason. I also do not really “hate” Donald Trump. I think he is corrupt. But I always did, long before he set his eyes on the Presidency. I have practiced moderating my political opinions to be polite. You can believe what you want to believe. That is your choice. I believe what I believe (and will not be dissuaded).
There was a point to me sharing this I think I lost momentarily. Ah, yes…
People here were utterly derailed and messed up by the assassination attempt. The media went wild. Pro-Trumpers attacked Anti-Trumpers on social media, in Reddit, on Quora. Everywhere I surfed online this week had this furious rhetoric.
So I minimized my use of my phone and online browsing this week, as an act of love (and self-preservation). I have pulled back on my consumption of political news in general. I can’t control it. I can’t change it. But I also don’t need to absorb the vitriol and the triggers that come along with it.
Triggers Triggers Everywhere! The Mental Health Challenge
In the era of constant digital connectivity, triggers are inevitable. I remember being a kid, and if I was lucky, I would see the local news in our small town. At most, I’d hear some sensational reporting from the big city (Toronto) where I was born and spent most of my time.
But I didn’t hear about Gaza and the Israeli war with Hamas. I didn’t see the starving and wounded children. I wasn’t exposed to the madness of rambling dictators and the Axis of Evil, which is very much still alive today. I didn’t know about countries that treated their women like they were subhuman. The abuse, the exploitation, and lack of basic human rights.
I did not know how many Americans believed that abortion was wrong for any reason.
The narrative right now in the United States about women and reproductive freedom is frankly a chapter out of The Handmaid’s Tale. And sometimes, I just share a meme that has a quote from Marla Maples, regarding the immense pressure Trump put her under to abort their daughter, Tiffany. Pro-Life my ass. Told you I did not like him.
The problem in our now over-connected world is the tsunami of negative shit, energy, and intentions. What is even more alarming, is that this toxicity is truly contagious.
People consume it, withdraw, get angry, and then start compulsively contributing to it.
If there are extraterrestrial beings, they have the common sense to steer clear of the human race right now. Spend one day consuming digital media and you will see just how “not okay” we are as a species right now. Not to mention the gross stupidity of decimating the only planet we can live on, with toxic chemicals, poisoning our water, and allowing people to die from “too much” in many places in the world while other humans die from “not enough.”
Hell is on earth, and all the devils are already here. It’s tough being a loving idealist in this current global culture. Increasingly it feels more like an insane asylum, run by inmates who think they are “okay” whilst killing themselves with drugs, alcohol, food, and depression. Or materialism.
I thought about moving to Alaska but apparently, the permafrost is melting at accelerating rates, which is creating lakes and land belching carbon dioxide, further escalating global warming. Even the end of the earth is no asylum from the toxicity of an increasingly unhappy species.
That sucks, because I heard the fishing was really good up there. *shrug*
The Human Brain and Genealogical Threat Detection
Did you know that the human brain is actually wired to notice threats more than rewards? For example, imagine our caveman selves staring at flowers. Wow! Pretty! Meanwhile, the sabertooth tiger we barely paid attention to is right behind us. Great.
If you find yourself paying more attention to negative shit, that doesn’t mean you are a negative person by default. It means that you are a human being doing risk assessment. The problem is that our brains are wired to be that way.
Caveman: “Oh shit, something is moving in the bushes!”
Cavewoman: “It’s probably a sabretooth tiger, or a pack of giant wolves, or a mother bear with cubs who is going to chase us and then rip us to shreds!”
(I am not certain whether wolves, bears, and sabretooth tigers existed on the same timeline in the Multiverse… if not, my apologies. I am too lazy to Google it right now, and invoke my creative license). I also apologize for the stereotypical genderizing of the responses. The caveman may have been equally likely to shit his pants vocally.
It doesn’t matter that the rustling bushes were a herd of deer, or elk, or whatever “meals on wheels” type of herbivore was prevalent at the time. Our cavepeople predecessors would have laughed it off, glad that shit wasn’t nearly as bad as they had pondered. Out loud. In a panic state. While digging out their pointy spears to ready the defense.
Nah.
What matters is that we HAD TO BE READY for whatever badass bullshit we encountered that threatened our existence. No matter what shape, or variety that threat took. If we were not ready? We’d have been toast.
So don’t beat yourself up, if you (like myself), are a master at projecting worse-case scenarios. There is some Freudian science that suggests the more shit you have been through, the more likely you are to be wired to see threats in advance. Projecting the worst possible outcomes in the most mundane of situations or circumstances.
Because we want to protect ourselves from being hurt.
But the reality is that, unless you are Lorraine Warren, you can’t usually see bad shit coming. Sure, you may feel red flags that accumulate before they become that “fight or flight” response. Don’t you hate seeing red flags, but allowing loyalty, affection, career drive, and other powerful emotions prevent you from taking a survival-dependent defensive stance?
Yeah. I do too.
In my next life, I want to come back as someone who is selfish, materialistic, self-serving, insensitive, disloyal, dishonest, manipulative, exploitative, abusive, greedy, and totally devoid of ethos and self-awareness.
I mean, they seem to get further in life, with fewer obstacles.
While the true blue honest hearts get butchered.
Sorry. Every now and then when I am processing something emotional, there is an unintentional left turn. I’d like to blame the ADHD, but I think it’s just the way my brain works. When I am working something out of my heart, like a sliver. Sorry for the semi-dark detour there… I’m still picking in a few places, even while the scab is healing nicely.
If I did reincarnate as that type of person, I wouldn’t be happy. I am not that.
What The Heck Are Glimmers?
Let’s get to the nice stuff, shall we? Glimmers are the good shit, and they are the polar opposite of triggers. When you think of a glimmer, it is something that makes you feel a variety of emotions that are the equivalent to dinner at your Mom’s table, or your first puppy, or the moment you realize you have fallen in love, fresh flowers from your partner for no reason, that familiar smell of your childhood home, your Angel in Heaven Aunt’s perfume.
I want to know the name of it, but it hurts too much to ask her kids (my cousins). For both of us. My nose turns like a bloodhound anytime a woman walks by me, wearing it. I know I will never stop missing my Aunt, and first best friend.
That perfume is a glimmer for me. So are my homemade meatballs (pretty sure I nailed the family recipe). Veal parm also. My tiramisu is passable. Texans like it. My banana bread remains legendary.
You can train your brain to look for triggers or glimmers. The interesting thing is that once you understand what glimmers are, and devote yourself to noticing more of them every day, some odd neuroscientific shit starts to happen.
You begin to see more of them and fewer triggers.
Weird, right?
Are you waiting for examples of glimmers that may randomly appear in your day? It may help if you define them as “good things” or “random acts of kindness or gratitude,” or maybe even “beautiful moments where it feels good to be alive,” or one of those things they call “blessings” so easily overlooked when you are focused on the bad shit.
My glimmers are:
- A happy partner.
- Ah-Hah moments I experience when I teach his girls something new.
- “I’m not crying. You’re crying!” moments when his girls do something unexpected and sweet for me.
- Hugs.
- Happy, goofy, healthy dogs. Lots of them.
- An old song with a great memory.
- My Cthulu-like grocery store pineapple bush.
- Looking at falling house prices.
- Helping others.
- Cooking good food for my little tribe.
- One more pound lost.
- The sound of water birds.
- My bestfriend’s voice.
- My mother’s voice.
- My sister’s voice (when we’re both having a good day).
- Smelling his shirt.
- Standing barefoot on the soil.
- A peaceful rainy day.
- Bunnies in the backyard.
- When he plays guitar.
- Keto chocolate.
- Documentaries.
- Learning.
- Writing…
Always writing.
I should probably use this time to publish something other than resumes.
In tandem, of course.
Bills suck.
