Fixing My Penmanship: The Weekly Hodgepodge



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From This Side of the Pond 

for the Hodgepodge link-up!

January is National Mentoring Month. Have you ever had a mentor? Been a mentor? How would you rate the experience?

I've had several.  In recovery circles, a sponsor is a type of mentor.  They are further along in their recovery, so they understand the hurdles, temptations, and general nuttiness that comes with recovery work.  A mentor is further along in life experience and is there to advise, guide, and encourage.  I mentioned one of first true mentors here.  I still contact my mentor from back home.  Dr. Wilson is the Hospital Chaplain at Regional Medical Center in Anniston.  My Pastor at First Baptist of Jacksonville, Dr. Derek Staples, recommended I meet with him.  I’m so glad he did.  I was at a very low point in my life and needed the guidance and listening ear of someone trustworthy who wouldn’t berate me for my feelings, but who also wouldn’t tell me what I wanted to hear.  We met weekly for nearly two years.  We worked through what was troubling me, prayed together, and discussed books and materials that helped me grow.  We still maintain communication and I hope we continue to do so for a long time.
 
In the beginning stages of my recovery (well, even before that),  I experienced individuals who tried to mentor me without asking.  They tried to fix me or turn me into a personal project when I haven’t requested assistance.  That’s tacky (play the song, Al).  That made me feel like an object to be repaired, rather than a human being with whom to establish a relationship.  One of the basic tenets of Celebrate Recovery is, “We are here to support one another, not fix one another.”  That not only protects the “fix-ee” from being dehumanized, but it also keeps the "fixer" from substituting focusing on someone else’s need for “help” with working on his own hurts, habits, and hang-ups.   

I’ve not really been a mentor on purpose.  What I mean is, no one has ever sought me out as a mentor.  I’ve mostly spent my time showing people how not to do life.  I hope that’s changing.  Not that I desire to set myself up as some sort of guru; I simply want to quit being the anti-mentor.

What current trend makes no sense to you?

I know that many of you read my Daybooks, but I feel that what I said this past Monday answers this question best:

I am learning…that all-or-nothing thinking is one of the most damaging mindsets in our society.  This is something I’ve been thinking about for a long time, but couldn’t figure how to put into words.  And I still may not being explaining it well…but here goes.  The more I see it, the more it angers me.  I see it in religion, politics, and even in health strategies.  The one that saddens me the most is:  In order to be proud of one’s culture, he/she must hate people of other cultures.  I see and hear white people being shamed into apologizing to every African American or Native American they see because of past atrocities by the white man (BTW—every white person’s family didn’t own slaves or marginalize the Indians).  As a recent transplant to the Rocky Mountain region, I’m sometimes made to feel that being proud of my Southern upbringing is somehow wrong.  Most disturbing is the trend I’m seeing of my black brothers and sisters believing that in order to have pride in our African roots, we are required to hate all other races in the process (especially Caucasians).  That, dear friends, should not be.  No one should be ashamed of what color they are, or are not.  God created this rainbow of beautiful skin tones because everything being all one color would be quite boring.  He likes variety, why can’t we?

I had backed off on examining the rich history from the black community because I didn’t want my brothers and sisters from other mother lands to fear I was hating on them in the process (which I would NOT be doing).  For years, I missed so much great literature and art.  After reading Booker T.Washington and Frederick Douglass’ story and being introduced to the quilts of Gee’s Bend and the Florida Highwaymen artist’s community, I’ve wanted to know more.  I want to experience poetry, art, plays, books, and music that elevate our race without devaluing another.  Can I not do that?

I saw a cartoon on facebook highlighting a few 'weird' things that make you happy as an adult. The list included-writing with a nice pen, having plans cancelled, freshly cleaned sheets, eating the corner brownie, cleaning the dryer lint screen, and sipping coffee in that brief time before anyone else wakes up. (Credit for the cartoon goes here) Of the 'weird' things listed which one makes you happiest? What is one more 'weird' thing you'd add to the list?

Writing with a nice pen.  I’m very persnickety about ink pens.  Yes, I know that “ink pen” is redundant, but that’s what my family always called them.  I can’t stand cheap pens that skip, drag, or don’t write darkly.  Penmanship should not be a strength training exercise.  My favorite pens are Uni-ball Signo 207 Bold.  A close second is Pilot G-2 Bold 1.0 mm pens. 

One weird thing I would add that brings happiness:  microwaves that don’t burn popcorn before its done popping.  We have two microwaves at work.  In one, the popcorn turns out just fine after reaching that “two seconds between pops” mark.  The other one starts to burn the finished kernels before half of them are popped.  The microwave I got for the apartment (yes I finally got one) pops a really good bag of popcorn.

What's the last good thing you ate?

That I made?  The taco salad I had for dinner last night.
 

That someone else made?  Saturday, my friend, Julie, and I went to a restaurant called Le Peep for breakfast.  No, they don’t serve hoity-toity French food, or at least there wasn’t any on my menu.  I ordered a meal consisting of scrambled eggs with cheese, turkey sausage, peasant potatoes (which are much better than hash browns), and pancakes topped with fresh strawberries in lieu of syrup.  Yum!

Describe life in your 20's in one sentence.



Well, you did ask.

Insert your own random thought here.

The Iron Diva had its 1000^th blog post this week.  Want to read it?  Here is goes.

Since I moved here, I’ve been asked if I’d ever heard the song Rocky Mountain High by John Denver.  I hadn’t, until yesterday.  Sorry folks, I just didn’t care for it.  The mood of music was so depressing that it nearly had me in tears.  I almost didn’t finish the whole song.  Maybe I just don’t get it…and that’s OK.  For now, I’ll just stick with what I know.