Good Counsel!

#1
Today is the day of people who don't know what they want.

I've noticed, in the time I've been working as an intake counselor, that no one on earth really understands the insurance system. Add to that the population I work with - in essence, the crazy and those who love them - and you've got to have saintly patience, or at lease be able to fake it.

Some days, this is no great shakes. Others, like today, this is an effort that would do Hercules proud.

Folks call without knowing the names of the doctors they'd like to see. They call not knowing why they want to see their doctors. They call to check their benefits for the 4th time in two days. They call to get phone therapy, and get really upset when they find out they have to *gasp* go see a counselor.

People. . .with all due respect. . .if you're talking to me, YOU HAVE PROBLEMS. Get a rack for all those issues and get some help. Therapy may not be as trendy as it was in the 80's, but it's not exactly the sandwichboard of shame, either.

The reality is, our society has developed in strange ways, and in ways that our yet relatively primitive brains are not hardwired to cope with. No amount of agrarian society could have prepared our genes for the onslaught of the Industrial Revolution. Just as we started thinking we had machinery dealt with, the technological revolution kicked us all in the teeth. We're only human, folks. Why do we expect ourselves to cope seamlessly with a world that innundates us with more information that we could ever absorb? What makes us average Joes so special? We are required to suck up more and more tragedy, comedy, and drudgery every day of our allotted threescore and ten. A hundred years ago, most folks never traveled more than 20 miles from home. Your whole world was within that radius. You seldom heard much about the Great Outside unless it really meant something to you. Nowadays, every person on the planet is only a jack away from anywhere he wants to go. How can the mind be expected to evolve to that level in so little time? With the massive improvements have come massive conflicts. They're not avoidable. Most of us did not have someone to teach us how to concretely deal with everything we'd ever experience.

On top of all these new challenges, we still have the old challenges to cope with. Family, friends, teachers, academics, work, Dieties of Choice, developing ourselves into relatively decent human beings while still trying to be, in some way, cool. We live in a society that simultaneously tells us we are wonderful and that we can never, ever attain the level of cool that everyone else did - unless we buy Coke and Bud and Prada and whatever else is available for purchase. We are all subjected to a set of rules to live by that somehow manages to change, radically, every ten years or so. Just when you get good at being a kid, puberty strikes. No one ever masters that - but we are finally lifted from that state into adolescence. What a wonderful place to be - your emotions are experienced at twice the level of everyone else's, but no one tells you that until you're done being a teenager. Finally, young adulthood, the seething morass of college or work, and the ulitmate understanding that your parents weren't kidding about their bills. Then kids. Then teenage kids. Then, suddenly, you're ready to retire. Then. . .is there a then?

With all this happening, people - with all this input, these rapid transitions, this continual stream of information and choices and confrontations and challenges and things to learn and see and do, how are we supposed to just automatically know how to juggle it all? We're NOT. It's not that scary, folks, to ask for help. It is no great shame, it doesn't make you weak or stupid or too fragile. It makes you, well, one of us. Human.

But when you call your insurance company to get certification, know the name of your doctor.
 
#2
On the Occasion of my 29th Birthday

I have to admit, I've been less enthusiastic than usual about this birthday.

Usually I'm just as excited about an upcoming birthday as I was when I was ten. I am unabashedly fond of presents. I like wrapping paper and ribbons and bows. I like birthday cake and candles. I like having a dozen people singing to me in dissonant, off-key voices. I like having one day of the year where I can be the center of attention and not feel even one tiny shred of guilt over it. I never waste a chance to primadonna it.

But this year, I am 29.

Which, to many, will sound like nothing. 29? Young! Not even 30 yet! I can hear the wisdom of my great-Aunt Olive, who said, "30 didn't bother me. 40 didn't bother me. 50 and 60 didn't bother me. 70. . .bothered me." I know I'm not exactly looking for my medicare and my Depends. I know!

But at 29, I have to face the fact that I am absolutely, positively, in the last year of my life in which I can feasibly think of myself as a kid, even for a little while. I liked being a kid. I was pretty good at it. I liked especially being a kid who was old enough to go clubbing. I miss some of the friends from being a kid that I lost touch with a bit more than usual today. I am much less likely to do something wild and crazy (and I can't blame that exclusively on parenthood). These days I'm more likely to cross-stitch if I have free time. It's been months since I was out dancing until dawn on a Friday night. Last night, in talking to a friend, I realized I haven't been to Atlantic City to gamble a bit in over two years.

I'm working on being okay with all this. I am. I guess I have work left to do. I never really understood why people were so fixated on youth in our culture. These days, it's starting to make a lot more sense. We are a culture based on freedom and the promise that we can be whatever we want to be. I grew up in that, believed in that. The older I get, the more I realize it's not necessarily so. Youth equals faith in freedom - feeling free. Uncluttered, unencumbered, un-focused on your bills, your obligations, what you have to get done today and tomorrow and this week and next week. Youth is not having a five year plan, or a ten year plan - it's not having a five-minute plan, for that matter. This is a kind of joy that is now only reproduced, in small doses, on the "unstructured" day of our family vacation.

Nowadays, my favorite kind of freedom is hard to find. Freedom, now, is more about what I can provide to others than it is about what I can enjoy myself. It's more about knowing that I did a good job today and going to bed knowing I'll do it again tomorrow, and that justifies the occasional day off to do not much. Freedom now means not having to do anything at all. Funny thing. . .mix it with time, and freedom takes on new meanings.

If I catch myself longing for the liberties of yesterday, forgive me. They were good. I'm not entirely adjusted to the liberties of today and tomorrow - I'm not even sure what shape they'll take. At least I know everyone else my age on up misses them, too. I've figured out why.

And hey. . .it's 365 days until 30. It's my last year of youth.

I think I'll go dancing.
 
#3
Attention!

This morning I'm thinking about attention. Specifically, the amount of attention paid to me.

I doubt that I'm the only person who is trying to hide a shamefully evident narcissistic streak. After all, those of us who like to act like it for a reason. If we're honest with ourselves, part of the reason we love to act is the joy of the moment when applause washes over you. It's up there with chocolate and scratching a really hard-to-reach itch. Aaahhhhh. Bliss. That part of me that's still three and yelling, "Hey! Lookit me!" starts jumping up and down. Finally - attention!

Maybe it's because there is just so much to look at out there. It's a big world, and by and large there is something for everybody to look at, to do or see or just love. There's a lot of competition from inanimate objects alone, much less things like the media, each other, and the business of managing life. It's nearly impossible to get through the day without being bombarded by advertising. It's got to seem like everyone and everything out there is designed to suck up the attention floating around.

What if there's a finite amount of attention? Only so much each of us can pay before we're pretty much done? What if I'm reduced to starting to PLAN ahead of time how to get more of it so I can satisfy the aforementioned three-year-old? Does that make me pathetic, or clever, or just like everyone else? What if I only want certain kinds of attention? Some is good, some is bad. The cop that pulled me over for driving in the lefthand lane gave me some attention, but I didn't really want it. Sometimes the problem with attention is you can't give it back.

Getting strokes is turning into a fine art. I don't know anyone under the age of 10 who doesn't live a fairly complicated life. We all say we're going to simplify, but so few of us ever do. Those that have say they get the benefit of paying more attention to each other. I imagine that takes work. I know that it was a huge adjustment to have a child and refocus the bulk of my attention on her. We get used to having our attention constantly diverted and re-engaged, even as babies. How can it be that surprising that catching and keeping the attention of another is difficult? Gives me new respect for elementary-school teachers.

I don't even want to try to get to the root of why I feel such a need for attention. Whatever it is, it's bound to be a bit depressing. If you've got a similar situation, here's my take: focus on making the most of yourself as a person and others will naturally want to look. I've had a lot of success when I stop hunting for attention and start giving it to myself and others around me. It sounds trite, I know. Still, I am attracted to people who are comfortable with themselves much more than to those who are needily struggling along. Not everyone is going to like you, but the ones who do, genuinely do. There's a lot to be said for that.

Until next time, Peace, Prosperity, and Perspective.
 
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