Pandemic Problems

 So, it's been almost exactly a year since the world shut down for COVID 19. I was on a cruise ship when that happened, with spotty internet and no real idea what the rest of the world looked like while I planned my days around trivia quizzes, lectures and movies. We came home to a very different world than the one we'd left.

We all remember, I think, the last time things were "normal" before they changed. It's a shared experience; we all understand it.

As is usual, though, I find that I don't really understand how some other people reacted to the new reality. I mean, on an intellectual level, I can tell you how they feel, and why. I just do not emotionally relate to it.

Some people, when I'd post photos from my own back yard online, would say, "You went outside!?! Why? It's dangerous outside!" Well, look, being exposed to other people was potentially dangerous, but there's nobody in my back yard except me, and maybe someone who lives in my house with me. I didn't understand the extreme fear of simply existing in the world.

I went anywhere in public only once in that first month, to get groceries. There's three of us in my house, so in the first three months, each of us went to the store once. Maybe if I had a job outside my home - I don't - I would have been a bit more prepared for this, but when I finally went somewhere in mid to late April, I could not get over how many people were on the road. It looked like any other ordinary day. "Where are all these people going?" I wondered. 

After a month at home, I went driving to a lake just outside of town, hoping for fresh air and the chance to take photos; those are two of my preferred ways to relax. And all across town, the streets were full. When we got to the lake, the parking lot was almost full. Luckily, most of the people were out on the lake, wind surfing, so we were all distanced, and I got great photos. Still, I was a bit surprised by how many people were out and about. And how one of them wanted to walk RIGHT UP TO me to talk; hey, I don't even like that when I'm not worried about germs.

Which brings me to the other people that I don't understand, the people who experienced fear and anger and pain in being home all the time. I started to see all kinds of things online about how "humans aren't meant to live like this!" and predictions that violence and suicide would increase - and they did! This was a surprise to me.

Because I was, sincerely, happy as a clam. I woke up every day, especially in the first three or four months, thinking, "Yay!" I had no schedule, no expectations, no obligations, and it was delightful. For most of my life, I rarely watched TV during the day, but now, I had no problem with sitting down in my jammies and watching TV any time I felt like it. I read books, I painted, I stayed up late (for me, anyway) and slept in. I'd look online and see that people were taking online classes, cooking from scratch and making sourdough, and FaceTiming daily, and it just sounded exhausting. I was not organizing my closets and deep cleaning. I was rewatching old TV series - hello, Stargate Atlantis; I'm always going to gloat a bit that I knew how cool Jason Momoa was years before everybody else figured it out. I should have done more cleaning, really, but it felt like vacation, and who deep cleans on vacation? Not me. Everybody likes vacation - how were they not as happy as I was? Really, I was puzzled; I am puzzled.

But, because I was puzzled, I thought about it, I read about it, I talked to people, and I tried to figure out what people were thinking. I feel the need to repeat here that I don't look at differences as being an intrinsic case of, "who's wrong, who's right?" Right and wrong are for moral issues and the laws of physics, not for the fact that the world contains infinite variety, especially in humans. I'm also deeply puzzled any time someone sees that they're out of step, and immediately agonizes that they're wrong, or judges that everyone else is wrong and probably stupid. Some flowers are yellow, and some are red. Some dogs are small, and some are large. Some people prefer things that make me miserable, and vice versa. The point is to understand, not to relegate everything to two little boxes.

I also need to be clear that I am not speaking about about families or individuals who were experiencing job loss, illness, death of a loved one, lack of food, or anything else that is actually tragic. Those people deserve every bit of help and love and empathy that we have, and more. Their pain should, always, be our own. I also understand that most people were having some kind of empathy response, feeling for those who were experiencing these things. I'm speaking from my place of incredible privilege, about people whose homes looked a lot like mine - plenty of food (and TP), income, secure housing, good health, and loved ones who are mostly in that same boat, people whose lives are physically comfortable, but who now had to deal with being home (in comfort) almost all of the time, and were feeling uncomfortable about it.

The things that didn't resonate with me were things like, "How many times can you organize your sock drawer?" or actual angst, like the woman who said to me, "Was I always this friendless, and I just didn't notice?" I had to roll that around in my brain for a while, because it made no sense to me. How can you have fewer friends, just because you're at home, not out and about?

I think I've figured that out; it has to do with who we perceive as a friend. My definition is very broad and encompassing. If I like you, if I have positive thoughts about you or feelings for you, you are my friend. Unless I specifically dislike you, you're my friend. That means that you, personally, are in luck if we've ever met; I would be hard pressed to name more people than I can count on one hand as being people that I just do not like. Even then, even counting the very few people on the planet whose presence I avoid, I don't wish harm or misery on any of them. I hope they're happy and healthy, just not in my presence. If they were to be in my presence, I would be polite, unless pushed pretty aggressively.

Sure, I understand the concept of "close" and "casual" friends, but it's become fairly clear to me that I don't categorize the same way some other people do. There are people who have never been in my home, who have never hosted me in their home (despite living in my community), whose numbers are not stored in my phone, who are absolutely my close friends. Some I've known for decades. 

A few years ago at a funeral, I saw someone with whom I hadn't been in contact for over 20 years. But we were kids together, we understand a lot of each other's backstory, they could have my organs if they ever need them, so the first words out of my mouth were, "I love you!" accompanied by a hug. And they said, "I love you too! How have you been?"

I'm often sincerely puzzled by people who see each other several days a week. I don't understand that; I don't do that. My parents didn't do that. My parents had family, neighbors, friends that they liked, that they did things with, but there were no weekly bridge games or girls/guys nights. There were no daily, or almost daily, phone calls. I'm the same way. Seeing someone 3 or 4 times a year feels "often" to me.

I also sincerely cannot make sense of the idea, "Well, I did like you, I thought you were fun, but then we didn't see each other for a while, so now we're not friends anymore." When I talk to people who only feel close to someone if they see each other all the time, it feels artificial and needy. I can be outside of your presence and still feel that you're my friend. One of my close friends, who I've known since we were kids, described it this way: "I don't need to see people every day to know who my friends are."

Other people have called me and my relatives like me "anti social." I prefer the wording of a professional counselor that I once saw - "You just function with a very high degree of autonomy. Most people don't." I'm not afraid or unhappy, I'm just self contained, and I can't imagine why that would be a bad thing.

I remember being puzzled when I was a newlywed moving to a new town. I'd be hundreds of miles from the only city I'd ever lived in, moving to a city in which I knew no one but my husband. Someone who truly was concerned about me said something about how hard it would be, because "you won't have any friends!" I replied, "I'll have the same friends that I have right now."

"But there won't be anybody to hang around with, day to day!"

"I don't hang out with my friends much now." I was 20, only two years out of high school, but I considered frequent contact to be something that kids with a lot of free time did. Several of my best friends had moved away, others were in school full time, some were like me and working two jobs. There was not a lot of time or money for hanging out, and our schedules were no longer similar, nor did we all live in the same neighborhood anymore. Getting together was a 'special occasion" kind of thing. I thought that was normal; I still do. I liked them, they liked me, I still wrote long, newsy letters, but now I put stamps on them instead of handing them off between classes. I didn't feel the need to audition people for Frequent Contact Buddy, because I wasn't lonely without one.

And yes, sometimes being with other people feels very much like an audition. They're trying to figure out if they want to spend time with you. Sometimes, the answer is no; sometimes, that's a good thing. Not too long ago, a dear friend - someone else I've known since we were kids - told me about someone who phoned them and said, "I'm sorry, it just takes too much work to be your friend, and I can't do it." The reason? An invitation was extended, the answer was, "Let me check with the rest of my family, and see what the work schedules look like," and that took until the next day to accomplish. That sounds so very normal to me. My husband's in bed at 6 PM, and works 12 hour shifts; if it's not an emergency, I may not discuss it with him for about 24 hours, because I won't see him for about 24 hours. Apparently, the Invitation Extender felt that things can, and should, be determined quickly, and arranged via text almost immediately. Having to wait overnight stressed them out.

I have to say, if that's the case, then I couldn't really fit into their circle, which means that "we can't be friends," since their definition of "friend" looks different than mine. Theirs sounds exactly like "too much work" to me. I tell people, truthfully, that I don't often carry my phone, especially at home. Calls, texts, or emails are usually answered within 24 hours. If that doesn't work for you, then no hard feelings, but we should not plan on doing things together.

So, the pandemic doesn't feel all that different to me. In fact, I often see or speak to people more than I did before quarantine. I spent weeks taking Porch Portraits, because people were home and available, and I love to have subjects to photograph (and I could stand out on the sidewalk, no close contact). I took the first family photos for friends with a newborn. I took "first home" photos for young couples. I learned how to Zoom. People occasionally call just out of the blue, to see if we're OK. I do not feel ignored at all.

Do you know what has happened? I hate driving. I sincerely hate driving. I have been on the freeway only once in about 9 months, and I hated every second. It takes 15 minutes on the freeway to get to our favorite pizza place; I drive through town, taking 30 minutes. The first time I drove out of town since quarantine began, I had a little panic attack on the highway. It was a familiar road - I've driven it since I was a teen, and I was only going an hour away. I've driven it twice in a day before. Now, I just came unglued. That was ten months ago. I haven't driven on the highway since.

I've never been really comfortable with traffic or high speeds. Even as a kid, I was not a speed demon. I grew up during a time when 55 was the national speed limit, and I drove a clunky, slow VW van, and I really resent being asked to drive 75 now. It feels dangerous. It always has. So does traffic. My husband and I have always had a deal: on road trips, I will drive for hours through open country and small towns. He will drive in cities. I once had to drive home through LA when he was sick, and I spent at least an hour yelling at other cars and saying, "YOU OWE ME!" to my sick husband.

My brother lives about 10 hours away by car (at or near the speed limit). It's a familiar road; I've been on it, as a passenger and a driver, since I was a kid. Most of it is flat, straight, wide open road like you see in car commercials, where your visibility is 50 miles. But there are two mountain passes, steep and curving, that I hate. I'd be OK if I could drive them at 45 or 55, but I'm told that I can't, that someone will hit me from behind, so I cringe every second I'm there. I'm going too fast, other people are going WAY too fast, there's little visibility, there's no margin for error. I hate it - and that's on a good, normal day. I hate being a passenger there, too. Now, I do not know when I might ever be able to face that again. Certainly not now.

And I hate talking to people about it. I say, "I'd be fine if there were no other cars. I could mosey at 45, and everything would be fine." Then other people say, "What are you talking about? If there were no other cars, you could cruise at 120, and do 150 on the straightaways!" That just sounds like death. Speed is dangerous, speed turns small rocks into something that will spin you out or puncture your tire, it makes you likely to lose control, it will send you hurtling over edges and off of curves and tumbling down the mountain until you explosde. I hate speed. As a teen, I once got up to 65 downhill, and it felt like the Daytona 500 and a very bad idea. That means that other people do not "get" me.

Still, I coped well. Only a few years ago, I drove, by myself, on a 6+ hour round trip, on the highway, just to get photos for a niece's school Flat Stanley project. I left town headed north, and hours later, returned to town from the south. I had fun; the solo driving was a kind of meditation time. Now, I cannot muster up the courage to drive 10 minutes outside of town to take photos of the wild horses. Oh, I'll go one direction, on the old highway, because the new highway bypasses it, meaning there's almost no traffic on the old highway. But I will not get on the interstate.

Six months ago, I gritted my teeth, and was a passenger while my husband drove us an hour away, on smaller, state roads, for a tiny vacation. I didn't worry too much about the virus, but I worried A LOT about traffic. It felt as if I nearly had a stroke when he passed a highway department vehicle on a downhill curve. The drive was misery.

You're supposed to visualize doing things that you want to do, or get better at. I want to eventually drive on the freeway, and leave town on the highway, so I visualize it. I'm fine and calm until I visualize other drivers on the road. Then I freak out. I don't like other cars. They're deadly weapons, driven by impatient, distracted people. They could kill me.

Doing something frequently smooths out the edges of the anxiety, desensitizes you to it, so it becomes more doable. During this quarantine, I have lost all of my desensitization to traffic and speed and curves. I am a raw nerve ending.

I want to fix it. I eventually will fix it. But when people talk about what makes them sad right now, it's being home, and what makes them happy is leaving. I'm happy at home, and leaving makes me sad. Then people feel compelled to tell me that I'm "not normal," and need to work at being normal, because normal is a life goal. That's misery, too. "Normal" and "average" are just math. And I'm entitled to feel however I feel.

But in a society that considers sameness to be a bonding experience, I'm outside of the loop.

Completely Normal

A family member and I were recently discussing our shared reaction to people who excuse unhealthy or toxic relationships by saying, "But we really love each other!" She and I disagree on many things, but on this she said, "We are so totally on the same page. All that I can ever think to say to that is, 'So?' or 'And...?'" Yet so many people deliver the "but we love each other" statement as though it is their trump card, their "get out of jail free" card. After all, what could someone possibly say or do that could defeat their love?

Defeat it, no; that's in their own hands. Dismiss or disregard it - yes, indeed. Volumes can and have been written about the thousands of factors that are vastly more important. Yes, more important than whether you love someone. There are those who think that this sounds like heresy. Yet, what would you say to a teen whose boyfriend beats her or threatens her with a knife? A wife whose husband sells her sexual "services" without her consent? To a child whose parent starves them or locks them in a closet? Maybe you're physically safe, but your partner belittles and mocks the majority of what you say and do, or controls all of the money or makes all of the decisions. Maybe all of those people truly love the one harming them; does that make it OK?

Another one of those trump card statements that people pull out as though it is the last and final word is, "But it's perfectly natural" or, "It's totally normal." Again, I find myself thinking and saying, "So? And...?"

Let's think about bodily waste for a moment. Your body - the body of any living thing - is designed to rid itself of waste. This is not only normal, natural, and determined by biology and therefore nonnegotiable, it's beneficial. If your body can't eliminate waste, it dies. People spend time hooked up to dialysis machines when their body's ability to filter and excrete waste breaks down precisely because without medical intervention, they will die.

Now let's think about babies. When they're tiny, their bodies excrete waste whenever it's done processing it, no matter where the baby is or what else is going on. We put them in special garments to contain the mess, and clean them repeatedly through the day. We are clear on the fact that this is necessary.

Before those children can consistently feed themselves, bathe themselves, dress themselves, brush their own teeth or communicate in complete sentences, we expect them to start regulating that waste removal process. We expect them to wait until a more appropriate time and place to pass their waste. We take away the special garments. We direct them to the rooms and fixtures set up specifically to handle waste. We make it clear that we expect them to wait for the appropriate time and place even when it's inconvenient or uncomfortable, even if they're tired, even if they don't want to.

Most children are not happy about this. It confuses them. It upsets and angers them. Why can't they keep doing it the way they've always done it? It was so much easier for them! And their parents never cared before - why do they care now? Sometimes it's so hard to wait! Sometimes they don't want to stop what they're doing; they want to wait until later. Why can't they? It's so mean of their parents to expect this and then be upset if the child does it the way they always have!

Keep in mind, they're not doing anything "bad." Their bodies must eliminate this waste. It's biology. It's necessary! And yet the adults want to put rules on it. It seems so unfair. Yet every adult will insist on this. Every child, except the extremely physically infirm, will leave diapers behind and learn to use a toilet, even when it's inconvenient or uncomfortable. How would we feel about an able bodied teen or an adult who wore diapers just because they wanted to avoid the inconvenience of toilets, and do it the way they did when they were born, the way all other living creatures do it, whenever and wherever the urge strikes - the natural way?

While they're still small, and increasingly as they get older, we expect more compliance. You will wear clothes when you leave the house. You'll be quiet sometimes when you don't want to be, because it's convenient for others. Many times when you're young, your parents will insist on things that you don't want, understand or agree with. But, the older you get, the more you will start to practice actual self control.

You will start to realize that there's reasons behind the controls you're asked to impose on yourself. You realize that, even though food is necessary to sustain life, that does not mean that you can eat whatever you want, whenever you want, in whatever quantities that you want. You become aware that, even if you're sincerely hungry, that doesn't mean that anything goes. Hunger is normal, eating is normal - in fact, essential - but there should be limits. We'd all love to eat anything we wanted - that feeling is totally normal - but we don't.

Even if you're not religious, think about those "seven deadly sins." Take sloth. How long would you last at your job if you didn't show up any time you'd had a bad night with little sleep? You're sincerely tired, maybe through no fault of your own (kept awake by a child, illness, noisy neighbors); your work may well be compromised. It's completely normal to want to roll over and go back to sleep - we've all been there - but you know that you have to show up. You know, too, that you don't get to pick and choose tasks. You can't say, "I'm only going to do things that I enjoy doing," at work or at home.

How about wrath? We're all clear on the fact that anger, no matter how justified, also cannot be simply set loose. You shouldn't engage in vigilante justice, revenge killings, drive by shootings, beatings. Even if your child or spouse or boss has done something infuriating, there are correct and incorrect ways to respond, and it's up to you to choose correctly. Even if someone has been fired, or killed, or hit by a car, or raped, or mugged, or deceived, or cheated, or anything else, that does not remove the controls you should put on yourself. We all know this. Those feelings are normal, but we control them.

We know, too, that it's not just actions, but words that we need to control. Just because something occurs to us, or is true, or would get a laugh, or is justified does not mean that we should say it. Irreparable harm can come from a totally unbridled mouth. From the time we're very small, we expect others to watch their words, and we learn to watch our own, through painful trial and error.

Greed is a little trickier, because society tends to applaud the pursuit of money, goods and status as being "ambitious" and good. We're all born greedy. Still, what if someone said to you, "I've been like this ever since I can remember. I remember being in diapers and not being happy unless I could take toys from the other children. I didn't want the toy; I just didn't want them to have it. I've never been happy unless I had more than the next guy. I'm always trying to figure out how to end up on top, how to charge more without delivering more. I try to stop, but it just sneaks in. Besides, it doesn't hurt anybody; I mean, anybody smart. If I can take advantage of someone, it's because they're not very smart. This is just how I am. I think it would be denying my true nature, not to mention futile, to try to be something I'm not." This is how we end up with the Bernie Madoffs of the world, not to mention every ruler or royal who ever funded a lavish lifestyle at the expense of the citizens that they govern. Most of us can still agree that this behavior, while natural and understandable, is wrong.

Violence, murder, spitefulness, taking unfair advantage, oppression, selfishness, bullying - the list of natural human traits, behavior that has persisted since the dawn of time, is huge. Yet we all seem to agree that these qualities should not be fed or embraced.

Let's go back to that recently toilet trained child to look at envy. Just about the same time that Mom and Dad have imposed all kinds of new rules and requirements - use the toilet, eat with silverware, say please, wait your turn - they also bring home a new baby. The baby does nothing but lie there, scream, eat and create messy diapers, but Mom and Dad just LOVE the new baby. So does everyone else. It's not fair! Why isn't anyone telling Preschooler how adorable they are just because they exist? Why does Preschooler have to wait for dinner, without even a snack, but the baby gets to eat every time it screams? Why is Dad's lap always full of the baby? Why does Preschooler have to use the toilet and sleep alone, but Baby doesn't?

It is completely normal that Preschooler will resent the baby. It is normal that they might want to hurt the baby, or that they will beg Mom and Dad to "send it back."  Almost every child in history has felt this way, and those born in the future will, as well. Yet, every adult knows, Preschooler cannot be allowed to act on those feelings; nor will Mom and Dad give in to the pleading, no matter how angry, outraged or unloved Preschooler feels because of their refusal.

(Many times, I picture the relationship God has with humanity looking a lot like the relationship parents have with small children. There are so many stupid rules, and they make no sense! Things would be so much better if we could just do it our way! How can God possibly know something that we don't? We're smart! He must not love us. He must be mean. If we could only do it our way, everything would be great, because doing it His way is stupid.)

Few things are as tedious as someone who never grows out of this sibling envy stage. Feelings that are totally understandable and justifiable when you're 3 or 4 look ridiculous on you when you're 15 or 16. Get to be 20 or 30 and still whine about, "Why are Mom and Dad so excited about Sister's promotion? They didn't say anything when I was promoted last year!" and I not only find you to be tedious and silly, but I tend to discount my assessment of your judgment and general maturity.

For some reason, we collectively tend to lose our minds a little bit when it comes to our sex lives, though. Too many of us seem to have no perspective.

There's those who find sex acts of any kind to be immoral, wrong, tawdry, indicative of lack of morals or character. That's silly. Whether you believe in God or not, the idea that the only way to perpetuate the species would be something wrong and forbidden, something we should not engage in, flies in the face of reason. This is why I don't agree with the idea that those who truly devote themselves to God and His purposes, or enlightenment in general, will be lifelong celibates. That's like saying that if we as a species truly devote ourselves either to God or to higher consciousness, the race will die out in a single generation.

Once when I said that to someone, they said, "That's because everyone isn't supposed to devote themselves to God. Only a few people will ever be asked to do that." That still seems silly to me. Maybe it's because I belong to a religion with no paid clergy. All adult members are expected to take their turn in leadership roles, without pay, throughout their lives. Even if this were not the case, the idea that the most spiritual, most dedicated of us should not have or raise children seems very odd.

Then there's the opposite extreme, people who promote promiscuity because "it's normal!" They find the mere idea that humans should be selective about their mating to be ridiculous and doomed. We're hardwired to mate with a large assortment of partners in order to guarantee numerous and healthy offspring, they say. It's millenia of evolution at work, and you can't fight it without facing futility and frustration. Why try? I don't buy this reasoning with regard to porn, either; don't tell me how it's existed throughout history. So has slavery, premeditated murder, con artists... you get the idea.

I'm always annoyed by promiscuous or straying men (or women) who become indignant when their partners leave them. They're just doing what comes naturally! It's normal! What is she so upset about?

"She knew what I was like before we got married," he might say. A man who thinks this way is ignoring two things. One: women are programmed to expect that, when they meet "the one," he will leave his tomcatting ways behind because of his love for her. Look through our culture's books and movies if you think I'm making that up. Two: very, very rarely have these men ever explicitly said, "I do not intend to be faithful." If they have, yeah, they can be annoyed if their partners get upset. If they're just functioning on the "she should know, because it's common knowledge" theory, they're not being honest with their partners or themselves, and they're behaving stupidly. Cards on the table, folks, always.

If monogamy is not important to you, only date or marry people who do not value monogamy. Or, resign yourself to living in a way that you find unnatural, because it's best for the relationship. No whining about what's "normal" or "natural."

It's a radical thought, based on the reactions I've seen, to believe, as I do, that sexual behavior is to be encouraged and enjoyed, even applauded, but only with one's spouse. There are those who don't bat an eye at people who have sex exclusively with stuffed animals, or with food, but find me to be bizarre. I find that reaction amusing.

Don't point out animal behavior to me in defense of yourself, either. You are not any of the species to which you are referring. We've all grown up watching dogs try to mate with human legs, furniture or toys. I do not feel that I, myself, need to say, "Well, if they've been doing it for centuries, it's normal behavior. I think I'm going to start mounting furniture, and claim that others are squeamish, prudish, anti sex, anti pleasure and repressive if they don't like it." I'm not going to start humping my husband's leg because schnauzers do it.

Personally, I have no quarrel with those who say that homosexuality is natural (as in, ocurring throughout time and across species). Still, from an evolutionary standpoint, it does not perpetuate the species or contribute to survival of the fittest by passing on genes. From a traditional Judeo-Christian religious view, it's scripturally condemned. Neither of those things are affected by whether it's natural.

I frequently face people who tell me that it's just wrong, repressive, manipulative, unenlightened and any other negative thing you can think of to go against, try to change or try to mitigate something natural, normal or inborn. I just don't get it. Aside from all those behavioral examples I just went through, how about physical things, things people are born with? Have you ever cut your hair? Do you trim your nails? Do you bathe? Do you wear clothing? Then you've tampered with the natural order. You've decided that the way your body is naturally is not necessarily desirable.

Do you wear makeup? Have you ever had braces on your teeth? Colored your hair? Then you're altering the way God or nature made you.

If your child was born with cleft palate or club foot, would you choose to have it fixed? If you are a Christian Scientist, or otherwise do not believe in any medical intervention, believing whatever happens to be God's will, I'll understand if you lecture me on not tampering with God's will (or Mother Nature or whatever other force you believe is most important). If you're an average person, and OK with tooth brushing, filling cavities, setting broken bones, taking antibiotics, using crutches and curling or braiding hair, I'm not really going to understand where you're coming from.

I've had pretty extensive surgery in the last two years, first to remove a diseased thyroid gland, and then to rebuild the bone structure in my feet. No one told me that since God made me, I was just perfect as I was, and I should simply embrace my bunions and collapsed arches. No one said that it was morally wrong, and setting myself up as a judge, to remove my thyroid. I didn't get lectures on the natural order of things when I had my tonsils out, or when I got glasses. No one said, "You don't need those! You are perfect just the way you are, and you should be proud of your astigmatism!" To the contrary, most people ask me why I don't switch to contacts or get lasik surgery.

ADD, ADHD, diabetes, hypoglycemia, depression, schizophrenia, bi-polar disorder, autism and more are all caused by body chemistry and determined, to a large extent, by your genetics. Nobody ever says, "Well, God wouldn't have put the voices in your head if you weren't supposed to heed them." We find it anywhere from unwise to criminal for someone to say that they will not address or treat any of these conditions in any way, or that they are God's will, or to say that humans shouldn't tamper with nature.

Given all that, I am beyond puzzled when anyone says, as someone did to me recently, during a disagreement about acceptable behavior, "Scientists have identified the gene/brain chemistry/etc that causes that!" as though I will immediately say, "Well, that settles it, then. If there's a physical cause, it must be desirable."

It's OK if we disagree about some of these things, or, heck, even if we disagree on everything. Each of us will one day have to account to God for what we do, but you don't answer to me and I don't answer to you. If you don't believe in God or in a Judgement Day, there's even less reason for us to be involved in each other's beliefs and choices, since our concern for each other's happiness will not affect eternal life. Just please understand that telling me how normal or natural something is not only does not end an argument, it doesn't even advance it. It's a non-issue.

All I'll be thinking is, "So?" Or maybe, "And...?"

"That's Just Not Normal."

I'm missing church today - car trouble, don't ask - so I've been reading my scriptures and otherwise trying to have churchy moments at home. That got me started thinking about a recent conversation I had with one of my childhood friends.

"How did you live a Mormon life in a household that was very definitely not Mormon?" she asked.

"I don't know that I can explain it to you. It was the only choice that made sense to me," I told her.

Her response: "That's just not normal."

I don't know that I worried about "normal" then any more than I do now. "Normal" is beside the point. I was sure it was the right thing to do, so I did it. I didn't care that much about whether other people did, or would do, the same in my place. I didn't know why, either, they'd care if I agreed with them.

I was seven years old when my best friends, our neighbors, took me to church with them for the first time. Back then, they had children's meetings on Tuesdays after school, and it seemed like it took forever for them to get home so that we could play again. "You could always come with us," they'd say, but we, my sister and I, turned them down. Finally, I agreed to go.

I remember the lesson from that day clearly. It was the story of the "pearl of great price" found in the Bible in the book of Matthew. A merchant, searching for pearls, finds one exquisite pearl, and sells everything he possesses in order to buy this single, perfect pearl. The teacher explained that it was a metaphor for giving up something good for something better, but I was a very literal child. I could not wrap my head around the idea of having a pearl, but no food, clothing, place to live, or money. What good would the pearl do?

Metaphor is a method of communication that grows on a person.

It only took a year or so of tagging along with my friends to decide that I wanted to be a member of the church. My dad said that I was too young, and that he wouldn't give permission until I was 12. I think he thought that it was a phase that I'd grow out of. I didn't; I was baptized at 12.

When my neighbors moved away, other friends took me to church with them. When they moved away, my mother started driving me to and from my meetings; she did it for years, without griping of any kind.

My dad thought that my new religion was odd. He said repeatedly that, "They're good, hard working, honest people," but he didn't necessarily wanting me believing what they believed. My mother opined that, "The Bible was written for people who are less educated than we are," but she saw no real harm in letting her kids figure out what they believed, and why.

I was puzzled, as a kid, when people would ask me why I was doing this, or not doing that, "when your parents won't even care." It wasn't about what my parents thought or did, for me. It was about what I thought was right.

Besides, my parents weren't likely to complain about my adopting a code of behavior that was stricter than that of my peers.

It was never about rebellion, either. I am, by nature, a rule follower. I have always known those people who would never have considered a particular course of action until they were told that they couldn't do it. The word "no" is a huge catalyst for those people. That was never me.

Some people were sure that it was about conformity, about doing what would impress my friends. It wasn't. Anyone who really values conformity isn't likely to choose a strange, unpopular religion. When people were surprised that I kept attending church after the friends who introduced me moved away, I thought that was strange. I'd made a choice; why wouldn't I continue to act on it?

I value free will too much to want to have knee jerk reactions of any kind. Having obvious hot buttons, like either rebellion or conformity, makes a person far too easy to manipulate.

Trying to impress others isn't really on my radar, at all.

I never really thought that choosing and living my religion was easier or harder for me than it was for other people. Sure, I had anti-Mormon literature dropped in my locker at school. I had a family member say, in soothing, pitying tones, "You realize that your church is a cult, don't you?" Still, there's always somebody who disagrees with everybody, and most people aren't shy about letting you know.

Sometimes, my friends would gripe - "I can't believe I have to sit through Conference!" - and I would think, "What is wrong with you? I had to ask permission to be here." Other kids didn't "get" me.

As an adult, I discovered that most religious families - families practicing any religion - spend time and effort helping their family members figure out ways to cope with negative attitudes or behaviors. I became more and more aware that most people are uncomfortable having either society at large or their loved ones disagree with them. I can't imagine making important, moral choices by taking an opinion poll.

People would say, "Well, you know that most people disagree," as if they expected me to 1. gasp in horror at this startling revelation, and 2. change everything I thought and did, if I wasn't on the side of the majority (or at least, in whatever group people thought it was important to impress). Of course I knew that most of the world's population didn't agree with me. That's like knowing that it's two o'clock; true, but irrelevant.

Sometimes this would lead to conversations that would be funny if the other party wasn't deadly serious. What, exactly, I would ask, did they expect me to do about the fact that someone disagreed with me? Usually the answer was, in some form, that I should change my opinion (so that I'd be like "everybody else").

"Oh, so if someone disagrees, then other people should change their minds?"

"Yes. Once you've been educated about your errors, you should correct them."

"So, you'll be changing your opinion to mine."

"No!"

"Why not? I can explain why you should."

"But you're wrong!"

"What makes me wrong?"

"Most people disagree with you!"

"So, it's a numbers thing."

"No! It's about who's right."

"How do you know who's right?"

"I can show you all kinds of people and all kinds of sources that say that I'm right!"

"I can show you millions of people worldwide, and lots of scholarly sources, that say that I'm right."

"But you're not!"

"But you told me it was all about how many people agreed with an opinion."

It's just ludicrous.

I tried to prepare my kids for those moments in their lives. Still, when all is said and done, they need to decide, by themselves, what they believe and what they will do.

I'm happy to explain to people why I think and behave as I do. If someone wants to know, I'm happy to tell them. It's pretty obvious from the things I do, as well. My religion affects every choice I make - the clothes I wear, the groceries I buy, the movies I watch. I think that people would be happier if they made the same choices I do.

Of course, I'm also happy to let others make their own choices, because I cherish that right myself, and recognize it as sacred.

I learned that not only from my church, but from my mother.

So, OK. I'm not normal. I can live with that.

Phrases That Irritate

Today, we're going to talk about phrases that really annoy me. I hear them frequently, and I take exception to them, every time.

"Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach."

We've all heard that one. Maybe we've even said it. It's not true. Remember, first, that everyone who "does" - every surgeon, painter, musician, teacher, parent - learned from someone. Sometimes it's by watching another's example, or by examining their work, or by formal instruction. Sometimes, they learn how to be better at what they do, and sometimes, they learn what to avoid, but none would be who they are without teachers.

People who choose to teach professionally truly love what they do. They wouldn't bother otherwise.

When Tom Hanks thanked his high school acting teacher while accepting an Academy Award, it was an amazing moment.

More recently, Kristin Chenoweth graciously shared her stage, and her applause, with a teacher. The video went viral.

Teachers do, every day.

"It's perfectly natural. How can you say that something natural is wrong?"

Almost three years ago, I wrote this in a blog post: "I'm tired of hearing about what is 'normal.' Cancer is normal. It's afflicted humans (and animals) throughout history. All disease, filth, decay and death is normal. Does that mean that we elevate it to the status of desirable?"

Behaviorally, selfishness, greed and violence are natural. Birth defects and mental illness are naturally occurring, most times dictated in utero by body chemistry. They are not dictated by a person's choices or actions. Yet, no one would ever say to a schizophrenic, "Well, you wouldn't have the voices in your head unless you were supposed to embrace them." I want to know if things are beneficial, not whether or not they're natural.

The blog post I just quoted was about bullying, but a family member and I recently had this same conversation about monogamy. (She believes that monogamy is completely unnatural, but extremely desirable and beneficial.) There are many other areas in which it applies equally. "Natural" or "normal" is many times immaterial.

"Since I don't have a uterus (or vagina), I don't get to have an opinion."

I've seen this frequently lately, and I've seen people applaud it. I can't imagine why. This is a sibling sentiment to, "Not in my back yard." It says, "As long as it doesn't affect me personally, I don't care." That's appalling. When people are indifferent to the suffering of others, we decry the idea that it's OK not to care as long as you yourself aren't affected. So why would it be OK in this case, or any case?

More to the point: I do not have a penis, and I never will, but I have very clear ideas about what someone who has one should, and should not, do with it. There are definite rules about when and where its owner should use it. There are acts that it should never participate in.

Chief among these "don'ts" are rape and pedophilia. Virtually everyone agrees that these things are wrong, whether they personally have a penis or not. This consensus is generally accepted to be a good thing. One reason for this is that those acts affect another person besides the owner of the offending penis, people who do not always get a choice in what that penis does.

The above statement is usually used in discussions about either birth control or abortion. These things also affect more than one person. Birth control is only necessary when a man and a woman engage in sexual activity with each other. One plus one equals two people. Abortion is only an issue when a pregnancy has resulted; one plus one plus one equals three people. (This, of course, leaves out siblings, grandparents, and extended family and society at large - the same kinds of people who are affected by sexual assault.) I do not think that the man's opinion, or the opinion of other family or citizens, outweighs the woman's in these decisions, but I think that they certainly do - or should - factor in. Then there's the fact that, with an abortion, the child will be the individual most affected, and we cannot ask them to weigh in. This is true whether you believe that the fetus is a full fledged person, or whether you think that it is potential only. It exists.

I do use birth control, but that is a joint decision that my husband and I make together. I do think that there are circumstances in which abortion would be acceptable, but I think that those circumstances are few and far between.

I also think that, even in circumstances in which abortion would be acceptable or understandable, it is not necessarily the only correct choice. Amanda Berry has reason, if ever anyone had one, not to want to bear a rapist's child. Yet she, and her family, consider the existence of her daughter to be the one good thing that resulted from Amanda's captivity. Bearing and raising such a child is not easy, but I am sure that Amanda feels that it's worth it. Jaycee Dugard's biggest fear in reuniting with her family after 18 years in captivity was whether or not they'd accept her daughters, because "I would never leave my children." They are hers, regardless of the genetic contribution of a man who is both a rapist and a pedophile.

I know many adoptive parents; they, too, are glad that someone did for them what they could not do for themselves, and carried and delivered their child (or children).

"He's a good father and a good provider. Isn't that enough?"

No. It isn't. Honestly. It's a good start, but it is not everything needed to be a good husband. A good dad, maybe, but that's a different job description. That's like saying, "Bob is a great mechanic, so he's obviously an excellent automobile designer (or manufacturer or assembly line worker or driver)." They might be related fields, but they are not the same.

"Love is all you need."

I wrote an entire post about this. It's like a politician's promise - it sounds good, but it fails to hold water.

Tune in next time for more Phrases That Irritate. There are more out there.