Sense

Posted November 10th, 2004 by Michelle

Ten minutes after I returned to work after presenting in front of the granting board, I got a call from their President telling me that not only do they want to fund my program, they want to partner with my organization to make the program as successful as possible. It’s incredibly good news. My board is elated, my boss is elated, and I am proud to have been the liason that made this happen. But also, this program makes sense. It is not just vital, necessary, and important, it makes sense. It has been wonderful to have affirmation towards something based on solid facts, on good research, on truths and needs. It feels like the world at large, here in the USA, things aren’t moving in a linear fashion; truth and research are completely irrelevant. To sit in front of a board, a board where basic good ethics prevent my father from speaking up too much in support of his daughter’s program, and to have that board listen, and ask questions, and get solid answers, and decide to get involved… for a few minutes there, I found peace and order in this world.

I can’t believe how bent out of shape the crazies are getting right now. It’s really disturbring, and I’m realizing that since the election, reality has shifted. It’s almost like the days after 9/11, but only in a very narrow sense that what once was is no longer. We couldn’t really wrap our heads around what happened, and I’m there again. I’m there again, and I’ve been sleeping with the phone next to my bed because I’m scared that some guy is going to break in here and hurt me. I’m scared walking the dark, foggy ten feet from my car to my door. I’m scared of the zealots in this country, I’m scared of the hate and anger flying around, I’m scared of my own hate and anger.

I was telling some friends about that person, the one that really chaffs my hide, so to speak, and I was doing a vitriolic song and dance about that person’s many evils, and one of my friends shook her head and said, “Man, what do you see in her that you hate in yourself so much?” I mean, it’s boring and obvious, isn’t it, that we hate in others what we are loathe to see in ourselves. This person challenges and by doing so thinks she’s being smart and controversial. She questions things that make sense because she feels that makes her clever. The volume of her voice raises as her knowledge of the subject diminishes. She wastes time- she wastes my time, everyone’s time. She is in the wrong company, in way over her head, and she postures to try to remind herself why she is there. She is exactly who I don’t want to be.

But I called her dumb and mean. “Mean” can be defined and proven quite easily; “dumb” is slightly harder to justify. Regardless, who the hell am I to call anyone dumb? But I’m so damn angry, so furious, and so terrified, that I lash out sometimes when I least expect to, and too quickly to check myself. I am helping no one by spouting hate. I do not believe that giving in to your anger makes it go away; I do not believe in “letting it out”. Every time I’ve “let it out” in my life, I’ve not just lived to regret it as my hurtful words make their way through the universe; I’ve also just gotten angrier.

Things aren’t making sense. I’m sleeping too much, and wanting even more sleep. Great things happen, and I see them in a fog. I’m forgetting to do some of the things I need to do, basic things like dropping stuff off at my dad’s in time for the movers, or calling a friend when I’m supposed to spend the evening with her. I dream that I’m punching my way through invisible marshmallow, like the very air around me is sticky and endless and doesn’t want me to connect with anything solid.

So to sit in front of that board yesterday, and know on a very deep level that people were listening as I was speaking, and understanding my clear and simple goal to support artists, was the most satisfying experience I’ve had in weeks. I’m so thankful that something, finally, made sense.