Throwing The Baby Out With The Bathwater

 "I choose to believe, because I WANT to believe, and that is enough of a reason". 

I won't sugar coat this.  My faith has been on an absolute roller coaster the last few years.  Ever since Covid, I have really struggled with reconciling a belief system that is supposed to be anchored in love with the actions and attitudes that I saw from its followers -  who seem to be mostly motivated by "their rights, their money, their freedoms".  

I watched the pastor of our church be pushed out, partly, because of his cautious approach to large group meetings and general willingness to follow government guidelines during those challenging months.  I saw messages about how church volunteers refused to wear masks while serving in the building because it offended their sense of freedom.  I watched hateful speech and actions come from the people who I most trusted to be a group of love, non judgement and acceptance.  

So, we stopped going to church.  At first, we did church online through sources that were modeling a Christ like response to the pandemic.  But then, I continue to disengage.  As I would explain to my friends "I still love Jesus, but I really don't like his followers right now".  Listen, I'm not saying that everything that the government did in response to Covid was the right thing, but what I am saying is that it was a scary time and I think that the vast majority of people who were following regulations (and creating regulations) were doing the very best they could with the information they had.  As I stated in my last post, I know I don't always have it all right.  I know I don't ever have it all right.  But I want to be around people who say "I probably don't have it all right but I'm doing my best out of love" rather than those who say "Don't Tread On Me".

Anyway, I really, really struggled with my faith, to say the least.  And then I became friends with someone who viewed the faith community as a kind of joke.  I will readily admit that I let this person influence me far more than I should have.  They were so flippant and dismissive of anyone and anything in the faith community that I felt myself drift even further away from Jesus.

Then, as always happens (and I am so grateful) Jesus called me back in a big way.  It was the confluence of a natural disaster where my only hope was to call out to God for safety and protection (and the only thing I WANTED to do) along with that relationship imploding** because I made a decision* that the other person disagreed with along with me finally recognizing that my heart longing for the quiet and peace that can only come when I am resting in God.  

Listen, do I know exactly where I want to land in all of this? No.  I don't.  But for right now I know that I am grateful for the comfort of Belinda's copy of Jesus Calling on a chilly morning, time spent in silence in meditation where my soul and mind are soothed in His presence, and conversations with Ryan about our path forward in all of this. 

*it was not a good decision, but MY decision nonetheless and one that had nothing to do with this other person 

**queue me being super grateful as I realized that this person only wanted to be in relationship with me when they could control me (shoutout to my therapist for that realization)

Another apology? Maybe. Or maybe just sharing a moment of self realization.

Sometimes we receive a good, swift kick in the pants that we didn't even know we needed.

I received such a kick recently.  It's never fun to look in the mirror and see something ugly reflected back at you, but I would rather see it and have the opportunity to redirect, than walk around with the metaphorical piece of spinach in my teeth that no one is telling me about.

Last night I was having a therapeutic event on my Peloton bike, exorcising (or exercising, haha) the demons from an incredibly stressful weekend, when I had a lightbulb moment.  So, I did what I usually do, and I texted Ryan for his input (nevermind that he was 10 feet away in the living room, I had a good sweat going, and I am nothing if not efficient). 

Me: Do you think I've become more judgmental over the last few months?

Ryan: Yes

Me: Sitting on a throne of self-righteousness seems like an awfully lonely place to be.

Ryan:  Yes.  There has been too much "me" in the conversation. 

Me: Yes

Later, after my workout was complete and I was talking to Ryan (you know, like a normal person) when he reminded me of a quote that is repeated fairly regularly around here:

"The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, and wiser people are so full of doubts." 

- Bertrand Russell

While I am proud of the growth I have experienced in my mindset in recent years, and the willingness I have demonstrated to examine previously held beliefs and determine what was worth keeping and what needed to be discarded, I am not proud of the judgement that I have let accompany my growth.  

I'm don't like that I let myself become fanatical about my beliefs, to the point that I didn't have enough uncertainty in my convictions.  I need only to step back and examine the people in my life who may make different decisions from me to be reminded to check myself before I wreck myself.  People who regularly demonstrate love, thoughtfulness and genuine care for those in their circle.  People who love me, even when I don't deserve it.  People who simply have a different decision making structure from mine, that they are using to guide and inform their votes and their faith.

I am able to sleep well at night knowing that the beliefs I hold are based on genuine love and acceptance of as many people as possible.  But I cannot sleep well at night if I assume that all those who think differently are, therefore, filled with hate or prejudice.

So, I'm going to be working on this.  Like I said, it isn't fun, but in the end, I'm grateful that I serve a God who loves me enough to serve gentle correction when needed.   The events of the last few days haven't been fun or easy, but I am grateful for the new perspective I have gained and for the people that God has brought into my life that I can trust and rely on in the good times and in the bad.  

An Apology

 I don't know what to title this blog.  It's been swirling in around in my head for SO long and now that I'm attempting to actually sit down to put my thoughts into words - I feel a little paralyzed.  But, for the sake of finally getting it out, I will probably proceed with word vomit, hit the publish button, and then cringe with embarrassment tomorrow at my nonsensical statements and/or typos.

In my companion post to this one, I shared some confessions.  Most were light hearted, or funny, except for the last one.  The one where I admitted that in 2016, I voted for Donald Trump.  I explained my reasoning there and I won't go into it again (if you didn't read it, it's not a defense of my choice - I would not try to do that).  In this post I want to apologize to those that my decision hurt.

I'm sorry.

To every woman who has ever been sexually harassed, abused, threatened or attacked, please forgive me.  My vote for Trump must feel like a slap in the face.  The very nature of this violation is to show a woman that she is just a means to an end, that she is worth less than the desires of her attacker- and we should all be able to agree that the price for justice against an attacker that a woman must pay is a price that is too great.  She will be scrutinized to the smallest detail.  "What was she wearing?  Did she give mixed signals? Was she being a tease?  Did she want it?".  I can only imagine how terrible that might be.  But to go through all of that, and then have a country show you that they'll vote for a known sexual predator anyway?  Heartbreak.  I'm sorry.

To my Jewish friends, please forgive me.  The resurgence of anti-semitism in this country since Trump's election in 2016 is disheartening, to say the least. 

To my LGBTQ+ friends, please forgive me.  One of my dear childhood friends, who is now happily married to her wife, was bereft when Trump was elected.  I remember feeling badly that she was so upset, but not fully appreciating why,  Now I get it.  I'm sorry.

To my daughters, please forgive me.  I didn't appreciate the attack on women's rights and privacy that would ensue when the Supreme Court's balance of power shifted.  I'm trying to transition my girls over to a European app to track their cycles so that the government isn't watching their personal health data.   I've spent most of my life being staunchly pro-life.  And while I still dislike the idea of abortion, I realize that I have the freedom to make that choice for myself.  And I think all women should have the same right.  But even more importantly, the lies that have been fed about Plan B (I remember the horror when it came out at the idea of "killing babies with a pill"), which is designed to end a pregnancy before it has a chance to start.  I do want my daughters, my nieces, my friends, my daughters' friends, to have that choice.  I want to impoverished woman who is barely making ends meet to have that choice, I want the woman who was raped to have that choice.  I want to woman who will die without an abortion to have that choice. So, to my daughters, and all women, I'm sorry. 

To this country's minorities and immigrants, please forgive me.  When I think of the second greatest commandment that Jesus gave in the Bible, which was, "to love your neighbor as thyself", I know that the attitudes and policies from the Trump agenda show a great deal of hate, and very little love.  I'm sorry.

If you've read this far, you're probably shaking your head that I have turned into a Democrat.  I, in fact, have not.  I'll write more about that in another post.  But, for now, to all of those who are still here - I'm sorry. 

Confessions

Back when I was 10 or 11 years old, I went through what we will call "summer of contrition".  I don't know if it was actually summer, but what I do know, is that I was suddenly consumed with guilt about every bad thing I had ever done - specifically those acts that I hadn't been caught and punished for.  My mom remembers it as the longest summer of her life.  There she would be, trying to relax after a long day, when I would creep into her room with a trembling voice and tears in my eyes and say "Mom?  I need to tell you something".  What would come next was a sobbing, often hysterical, confession of the most insignificant transgression you can imagine.  She came to fear the sound of my footsteps outside her door as I sought absolution for my sins.  As with most childhood phases, this one passed, but we still laugh about it to this day.  Well, we laugh and wince at the same time.

Today, I come to you with a flashback to summer of 1990.  There are some things I would like to get off my chest.  I hope, in advance, you can forgive me.

1 - I would estimate that I've actually watched less then 25% of the movies that most would say defined our generation.  Sure, I've seen bits and pieces of most, but the investment of time and attention is beyond what I can give.  We're talking Pretty Woman,  The Heathers,  Airplane!, Caddy Shack, Say Anything ... and that's just from a quick Google search.   I didn't even see The Breakfast Club or Sixteen Candles until fairly recently.  Sometimes I'll admit I have no clue what someone is talking about in reference to a movie, but if it's just TOO embarrassing, I've been known to fake it on occasion. Oh, come on! Even though I haven't seen the whole movie, I still know the famous scene from When Harry Met Sally. 

2- Let's talk bourbon.  I'm not an expert, but I enjoy my bourbon with just a couple of ice cubes to enhance the flavor and I have some definite preferences between brands.  Over the years I've learned a lot about appreciating this delicious spirit. Which brings me back to my first bourbon experience.  Some of our friends brought a bottle of Jefferson Ocean to our house for a party.  This might not make an impression, but Jefferson Ocean is considered to be a very nice bottle of bourbon and, y'all.... I mixed that nice bourbon with ginger ale!!!  Every time I think about the sacrilege of this, I cringe.

3 - This next one is a big one.  My name is Lacey and I like to play pickleball.  For years I have been firmly anti-pickleball.  Not because there is anything wrong with the sport, but because my parents LOVE pickleball, and the more they insisted that I would love it, the more resistant I was to trying it.  I have quite the stubborn streak in me when someone tells me what to do, and dangitall if this wasn't a hill I was willing to die on.  Alas, peer pressure (or FOMO?) won out and when some of my good friends started to play all of the time, I couldn't resist.   Whatever, it's fun, blah, blah, blah.  But I swear, if I start wearing pickleball themed clothes or accessories - take me out back and shoot me.

4 - I was involved in not one, not two, but three MLMs.  I should probably stop this post right here before the few friends I have left unfriend me.  Ugh.  Y'all, again with the peer pressure.  I was a total sucker for the compliments and attention I was given in order to recruit me.  To this day I have so much guilt about friends that bought something from me because they felt pressured to.  And I cringe so hard anything I hear someone say "let's chat!".  It's straight back to "How To Build Your MLM Empire 101". 

5- Ok, if you're still with me, this last one is an honest doozy.  And I don't mean that with even a hint of sarcasm.  Back in 2016 I voted for Trump.  Hold on, I threw up a little in my mouth just typing that.  Let me explain.  In 2016, I remember feeling so disillusioned with our entire political system (if 2016 Lacey could see 2024 Lacey she probably would have a mental break).  I distinctly recall a conversation with Ryan and Belinda (two stalwart Never Trumpers) where I tried to explain, that as distasteful as I found Trump, I had hope that since he was not a politician, maybe he would actually effect positive change in the country (yes, yes, I know).  My thinking was that because he was already SO successful, he didn't need to play all of the political games, or govern with the sole purpose of winning re-election.  Also, the election was hot on the heels of Benghazi and, for reasons I won't go into, I literally could not fathom voting for Hillary Clinton.  What I WISH I would have done, is vote for a write-in candidate like Ryan did.  But I didn't.  And I feel like there are a lot of people to whom I owe an apology for that.  Read all about it here.  I am SO sorry. 

Back to Basics

When I first started this blog, one of the things I loved most about the process was the opportunity to capture the mundane little details of life.  The blog served as a journal of sorts and was a needed tool for me to verbally process the whirlwind that was my existence in those early years of motherhood.  Somewhere along the way, I started only blogging the BIG things - big events, big feelings, big opinions.  Then, in 2020, when the world fell apart, it all felt too big.

I'd like to get back to the simple.  Where my blog was for me, with the added bonus that sometimes my stories brought laughter to those who were reading them, or, even better, let someone know they weren't alone in the struggle that motherhood can be.

Jane Dare started Drivers Ed on Monday.  Jake is less than 3 months away from not being a teenager anymore.  Ainsley had her senior prom and is now in the final push to graduation.  Reid will be getting his license in about a month.  My life looks so different now from the stage of motherhood that I was in when I started this blog.  I remember running at the YMCA, just praying that I could get to 5 miles on the treadmill before someone came and got me because one of my kids was crying in the child care room.  Those days were physically exhausting.  I remember praying for just an hour or two where no one would touch me, or talk to me.

What no one prepares you for is how the teenage years bring a tradeoff from physical exhaustion to mental exhaustion.   While I won't wax poetic and say that I would go back again to those days again in a heartbeat (I wouldn't, those were some tough times - joyous, fun, happy - but tough) I will be honest that this past year of parenting has been one of the hardest I have ever known.

When your kids are little, there is so much that you can control.  But parenting teenagers is very similar to driving a manual car.  Your control is the clutch.  Their control is the gas.  The teen years is all about that smooth movement of slowly lifting up on the clutch while pushing down on the gas as you allow them the freedom to begin navigating life on their own terms.  The idea is simple. The execution is anything but.  

How much do I hover over grades versus letting them choose how much work to put in?

What is the line between encouraging modesty versus body positivity?

How do I convey the idea of respecting your body without opening the door to the shame that purity culture brings (ask me how I know)?

How much of church attendance is forced versus encouraged (from someone who still has anxiety on Sundays)?

How do you know when they are ready to get their license and drive responsibly?

How much do I step in when they are fired unfairly by a boss that has no patience for special needs?

And that doesn't even begin to get into electronics, social media, curfews, consequences, responsibilities ... the list goes on and on.

If you're a younger mom reading this, I honestly don't mean this to be discouraging.  I'm so grateful that I have some amazing mom friends who have been so encouraging, kind, caring, empathetic and, most of all, non-judgemental as I have navigated this past year.  Having a husband who is an expert in human behavior has been kind of helpful to.  But, even with all that, I'll say again - it is HARD.  So mommas, if you're reading this, I guess I can sum up today's post with a couple thoughts.

1- Let's be each other's biggest cheerleaders.

2- You don't know until you've walked it yourself.  If the words "I personally would never ..." start to come out of your mouth I would encourage you to stop yourself right there.

3 - Parenting is hard.  Give yourself a hug.  And then go give your teenager a hug.  Whether they want it or not. :) 

An Abusive Relationship

For any longtime readers of my blog its probably no surprise when I temporarily revive the blog just to disappear again. I keep wanting to post, but there is just SO MUCH swirling around in my brain and I haven't been able to boil it down into a concise post, or even series of posts. 

But I think there's one topic in particular that I need to revisit before I get busy alienating my social circle with all of the other posts I have on the back burner.  In my last post I talked about the healing that had taken place since I resigned from the foundation.  And while everything that I said was true, I feel like it would be disingenuous to act like all it took was a bathroom remodel and a month of space to get over what happened.  

As time has gone on, I've been able to recognize that I was in an abusive relationship with my boss.  What are some of the telltale signs of such a workplace dynamic?  A high control relationship model, power imbalances,  manipulation tactics, gaslighting.  I realize the word abuse is a strong one and I don't use it lightly.  There is definitely a big difference between a crappy work environment and an abusive work environment.  This article  was a real eye opener for me.  The author notes the following as she was interviewing people for the article:

 "A lot of these stories are told through tears... I can see in their faces that they’re frustrated they can’t find the words to convey how seriously they’re suffering.  Then, a really weird thing happens. After that flashpoint of honesty and vulnerability, they start to walk backwards.

• “It’s my fault; I’m being too sensitive.”

• “I shouldn’t have started out with such high expectations.”

• “Other people would love to have my job; I should feel lucky.”

• “I’m partially to blame too; I should’ve anticipated what would happen.”

• “Some people have real problems; I’m crying about a little work stress.”

• “I’m not ready to quit yet, but I will if it gets any worse.”

• “It’s just a job—I shouldn’t let it get to me like this.” 

I am fairly certain that I said every single one of these statements during my time working at the foundation.  Because while I felt like I was lucky to have this "dream job" nothing was dreamy enough to overcome the fact that I was working for someone with an anxiety disorder.  And this disorder permeated everything that she touched.  Let's go through each of the hallmarks of an abusive work relationship that I listed above and I'll give an example.

High control model:

-I was not allowed to send emails that had not been proofread and approved by her.  My reminder emails to my participants had to come from a template where I plugged in the pertinent details. 

-I couldn't give handouts to my participants at the end of events unless they were approved and formatted with a very specific color scheme.  

-I specifically requested that my team be moved under another supervisor.  EVERY OTHER TEAM was moved to this new supervisor.  Except mine.  Despite the fact that there was stress in our work dynamic, she wouldn't let my team go.  

Power imbalances:

-There was no space in the organization to go for resolution where there wasn't a serious conflict of interest.   My boss was married to the director of the organization.  Which means that when the Director of Operations was brought in to "mediate" after our disastrous performance review, I was relying on someone who directly reported to my boss's husband to try and get the train back on the tracks.  To say that effort failed miserably would be an understatement.  He sat in silence as I was bullied and emotionally manipulated.  

Manipulation tactics:

-Again, as mentioned in a previous post, the foundation had a lot of personal information on me based on the personality assessments that we completed.  When my boss and I had a difference of opinion, she would dig into my profiles and use that data against me.  I still don't have the words to describe how deeply violating that was.  

-Whenever I would voice a concern about how a particular program was being conducted, the response would be to disinvite me from participating in that program in the future. 

Gaslighting:

- See the mileage issue that I spoke of in previous post.  Or anytime I tried to advocate for myself, there would inevitably be a team meeting soon thereafter where we would all be reminded that all that mattered was the mission and and that we were serving the SF community - anything else was our egos getting in the way.

I am loyal to a fault.  Hear me say the last part again - TO A FAULT.  I'm not saying I do it well all the time.  I have been known to punch first and ask questions later when someone that I love has been hurt.  I think what hurts the most is that I worked with so many people that I liked and respected, and when push came to shove, not one of them was willing to stick their neck out and advocate for me based on the work they saw me do and the heart I had shown for the mission.  After further reflection I think this is because of the anxiety ridden work environment that has been created by unchecked leadership. 

Lest this entire post come across as entirely vindictive, I'll repeat again something that I noted a few posts ago - I requested an exit interview.  That request was ignored.  So I sent an email voicing my concerns.  All but one of my concerns was ignored in the carefully crafted response I received.  I hoped that my leaving would open some eyes to the organizational issues that stem from having two people at the top of the org chart who are in what is, at best, an unhappy marriage.  Again, it was all swept under the rug.  I was asked why I don't approach the board of directors.  I would if I could - I have been unsuccessful in finding contact information.

Maybe my mindset is best summed up by the words of the queen herself, Taylor Swift.

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace.

And you're the hero flying around saving face.

And if I'm dead to you why are you at the wake?

Cursing my. name, wishing I stayed

Look at how my tears ricochet. 

False Confidence

 I'll admit that there is another blog post sitting in my saved drafts that further blasts my experience and the mismanagement at the foundation.  It felt good to write it and to get it all out there, however, I've decided that it will stay in my drafts.  While everything I said was true, even to the point of hopefully being constructive criticism, in my heart I know that publishing it won't effect any change.  And, might just further damage the image of an organization that, at the heart of the matter, is doing good and important work.  Do I believe management changes need to be made, yes.  But do I think my words will change that? No.

During my tenure at the foundation I couldn't hear these lyrics without being brought to tears:

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

And you're the hero flying around saving face

And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

Look at how my tears ricochet  - My Tears Ricochet, Taylor Swift

Last week I was at lunch with a friend and she asked how I was doing with everything.  Specifically, how was I feeling towards the foundation and the people who hurt me.  It actually brought me to a complete pause (or, as Cher Horowitz would say "I totally paused") because I realized for the first time that I wasn't angry anymore.  Like, I actually sat there and pondered and tried to work up anger, and I couldn't.  It was an amazing feeling.  And, one that I feel quite proud of.  I feel like I'm taking back my self confidence and my power.

I don't know if it's just a factor of time, or personal growth, or that I actually feel like a total badass because I have single handedly remodeled a bathroom during this time, but I feel so content and happy with where I am right now.  While I wouldn't go back to the foundation for all the money in the world, I genuinely want their mission to be a successful one. 

Someone that I know recently returned from a program that was held in Montana.  I reached out to her this week because I wanted to hear how her experience was.  I know how transformative it was for me, and I hoped the same for her.  Her response made me both happy and sad.  Happy because she had a great experience and felt restored after her time there.  Sad because I could tell that she thought I wanted to hear a bad report.  It was further confirmation that leaving my follow up post to dwell in permanent draft purgatory was the right call.  I hope most of my friends know me well enough to know I am not that kind of vindictive.  I was hurt, I was mistreated, I was mismanaged.  All of those things are true.  AND YET, the work that is being done is good, the heart of most of the organization is true and I want as many people as possible to be impacted in a positive way.

I was in the car yesterday and was again brought to tears by a song. 

Don't let those demons in again

I fill the void up with polished doubt, fake sentiment

Surrender yourself

And I wonder why I tear myself down to be built back up again

Oh, I hope somehow, I'll wake up young again

All that's left of myself,

Holes in my false confidence

And now I lay myself down and Hope I wake up young again - False Confidence, Noah Kahan

 I will never stop being a person that trusts too easily, and, possibly, too much.  I always want to believe the best in people. I've lost count of the number of times my poor husband has had to stand by and watch me throw myself into a situation that he knows will hurt me, but also knows he can't keep me from (the perils of being an expert in human behavior,  I suppose).  But I'll do it again.  I'll let myself be torn down, but I'll come back.  I always do.  I wake up young again.