Mid-week already. The fencing contractor has vanished again, leaving ugly cheap-looking aluminium palings piled up in the drive, which is now unusable. I have left an urgent message on his voice mail, but have to face the fact that he may not re-appear before Christmas.
Acceptance is not acquiescence, I learned in my first year sober. It doesn’t mean I must resign myself to accepting something I do not think is right. It doesn’t mean just giving up, or not using one’s powers of discrimination. It means accepting the truth of what is, as it is, right now. The serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can.
I might pay him a visit at 6am and suggest he finishes the job if he wants me to not wake him up by ringing his doorbell at 6am each morning for the rest of his life. But if he has gone fishing and is sitting somewhere in the mountains next to a trout stream with his cell phone switched off and a happy-go-lucky smile on his face, I will just have to get those palings moved and postpone my harassment tactics until he gets back.
Tonight is the birthday supper with the housemate’s [racist, homophobic] family. Her brother has a new Lexus and a sticker on the back window that reads ‘Greed is Good’. He means it.
Things I won’t talk about then: the notorious Protection of State Information Bill, also known as the Secrecy Bill, was passed through parliament yesterday while hundreds of black-clad activists protested outside. The implications for press freedom are of great concern and many see this as the beginning of State dictatorship.
The murder of lesbian women. Across South Africa, and internationally, gender activists are outraged at the postponement of sentencing of four men found guilty in 2006 of murdering a Khayelitsha woman, 19-year-old Zoliswa Nkonyana, accused of being a lesbian. The case has been postponed 40 times over a five-year period.
What I will talk about: The goodness of the food. The goodness of the housemate. The contrariness of the weather. Human rights. [I'm joking.] The food . The magnificence of the Great Dane puppy. [They don't like animals.] The weather. The food.
There may be space for more sincere connecting, finding out how people really are. I need to stay open to that possibility. And keep my mouth shut when the bigoty rants begin.
Some of you might have noticed that I have revised and extended my blog roll links beyond recovery blogs, so that anyone who likes to follow random blogs one click at a time to the restaurant at the end of the universe can spend hours doing so. There are some fascinating and brave blogs out there. I don’t necessarily agree with the views or beliefs of some bloggers, but I like reading what they have to say. In January I will have to delete the recovery blogs no longer active, always a sad business because I am never sure if those bloggers just gave up on blogging or on the dream of getting sober.
Now I must go out and plant out my new basil seedlings and hope some survive. This has been a bad summer for growing basil. And then I must sit and revise the latest chapter of my novella, which seems to be shrinking into a short story. So be it.
OH! I’m going on a train trip tomorrow, and I will have time to go exploring with the links. I trust you to take me interesting places;)
There’s an eclectic mix, Lou. I hope you find some you like –
Promise Mr. Fenceman some wonderful meal when the offending material is moved. Have ready some crumbs to throw on the floor in an “OH NO the puppy ate everything!” moment when the job is finished. Actually your revenge tactics are a little too mild for my taste. Early morning phone calls? Girl please.
Poor sweet housemate stuck with that family. The fenceman would probably be better company.
Pam, you don’t know the half of it. The housemate wants her family to love and approve of her, she wants them to love me as she does, she wants everyone to be happy and loving and together. Around that family I am an anklebiter because they have not been good to her. And because they are racist homophobes. She says if they just let go of fear, they would be more accepting of differences. She won’t ever admit she is a little ashamed of them because she wants to be loyal to her family.
But tonight is all about her and giving them a second chance and keeping my mouth shut because confrontations do not transform people at family dinners.
Oddly enough turning up at Mr Fenceman’s door at 6am might work. He would be terrified of my food because he only eats Kentucky Fried Chicken and McDonald’s hamburgers.
“Girl please” — Pam is cracking me up.
I haven’t heard the expression “acceptance is not acquiescence” before. I like it. It’s like a not-flippant version of que sera sera.
That’s it! Without the Doris Day simper.
I sometimes bristle when I hear people talk about acceptance… like acceptance that someone is abusing their child, etc. I like your take on it.
Don’t delete my blog, OK? And we have a common friend whose blog is now spam that will take over your computer. It hurt me to remove that link. She is still in my prayers every day.
I would never delete your blog Mary Christine. I think about that blogger every day and hope she reappears. Thanks for warning me about the spam.
I am inspired by the fact that you are open to “more sincere connecting”.
…. Maybe just a little human rights?
Marcia, I have been wrong so often about people and defended myself when there was no need. But not this time, oh no.
I really appreciate your blog, and your writing skills! You are a talented writer.
In a meet that I attended early in the a.m. last year, the discussion often times fluttered around the idea ” would I rather be right, or would I rather be happy”. Most folk went for being happy, and this goal included the ability of restraint of pen and toungue.
My twisted mind would chime in in a tiny, clear voice, ” well, being right makes me happy”. But I can never make this work in real time. I do a lot of praying before entering the fray, am confused a lot in alan-on meetings, and am really happy with myself when I can keep my mouth shut. Sometimes I am powerless over my own lack of self control and have to agree once again, that fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
Thanks for the comment Susan. You know, the ‘being right or being happy’ poser is not a simple one and at some point I must blog on this because I have struggled with the implications. Sometimes a disagreement is about ego-driven pride and a stubborn refusal to acknowledge another person’s point of view. But sometimes it has to do with strongly felt principles and the refusal to have anything to do with lies and wrong-doing. In that case it is better to be right even if it means unhappiness.
It is hard for me to sit quietly by when bigoted comments are made. But I realize that I am not going to change anyone’s mind with my retorts. Family is generally not the group to have a stimulating discussion about some controversial topic. I enjoy friends who like the repartee. Hope that the housemate has a lovely birthday.
Please don’t delete me–I have enough rejection issues as it is!
Syd I add rather than delete! I only delete blogs that have ceased to exist and even then I watch to see if they surface again.
Often I know that in any situation, family or in a community activity, nothing I say will change the attitudes of people who hate black people or LGBT people. But I still speak up because they need to know such attitudes are not shared and not acceptable.
The hard thing here is that this is my housemate’s family and her needs matter, so I do have to not just hold my tongue but try to establish some connection if possible.
How do you have time to read all those?
Oh Lydia I don’t read them all every day! I read some of them in connection with my writing and editing work and others for inspiration and others at the weekend on Saturday mornings or on rainy afternoons.
thank you for adding me to your blog roll. I’m honored.
Kitty I was so pleased to find you again via Kristin!
Thanks for the reminder that I can try to find the sacred in each interchange I have, no matter how noxious.
I am not with my biological family this Thanksgiving and so will not participate in ‘I love that sweater, what’s your ex-husband doing, we hate Obama, why do you go to church, I never realized you drank at all’. Then there is the statement that my forgetfull mother makes hourly which got her moved out of my house, ‘money isn’t everything, it’s just our life’s blood’. Perhaps she could live with the Lexus driver?
Carol, this is exactly what it was like. Perhaps worse. I love that ‘Money isn’t everything, it’s just our life’s blood’! That is how they feel, without irony.