Oops...

Los Angeles, California

With Thanksgiving approaching, I am reflecting upon the gratitude I feel. Near the top of the list is that I don't have relatives to fight with this Thanksgiving! In this sticky pandemic political goo, many families will be fighting over the mashed potatoes. And worse, I have friends who have already fallen out with family members over the crimes of the Trump administration. Some of the hell of what he hath wrought.

I haven't fallen out with anyone so far. I am fortunate that Joel and I are aligned on almost every moderate political point. As I recently wrote, we are all on our own squares of the political chessboard (I have to write this again, because I do love this metaphor), but even if on the same color we are not necessarily on the same square. And that is ok. It's a spectrum out there, so even those of us on the same side of it, rarely agree on everything.

Which brings me to a recent incident when a friend objected to something I had written on this blog. You didn't see her comment? She didn't leave one. She is a close, though out-of-town friend, and we catch up every few weeks with a long phone conversation. She recently texted me to ask if I was angry at her since it had been awhile since we had been in touch. But when I checked, it had only been nine days. And the text string had been left in her court. But, as with the Pirates of the Caribbean code, that's more of a guideline than a code. While responding to her text, in the back of my mind was Psych 101 (or more accurately, a lot of years of therapy), which reminded me that when someone out of the blue stamps an emotion on you, it's usually a projection of something they are feeling. So, I texted her back asking if everything was ok. I'm fine. No biggie, she responded. Ok.

During the first part of our catch-up conversation, I noticed that she seemed distracted. Again, I pushed that to the back of my mind. Then, in the middle of our conversation, she suddenly and forcefully stated that she had read my blog. And what followed was her letting me know, in no uncertain terms, how she felt about something I had written.

I don't write my blog to upset my friends. I write my blog as a practice of writing. I write my blog to keep my writing in the forefront of my life. That is the purpose and the intent. However, it should not be a surprise to anyone that politics have crept into my writing. Politics are a hot topic currently. And, frankly, I have to think up things to write about, which can be challenging. But a blog isn't Facebook. It's not social media, and it is not interactive, although comments can be left if you feel moved to do so. Friends have let me know that they enjoy reading my blog, but I am certain they don't agree with everything that I write. And I wouldn't expect them to. In fact, when I reached out to Lynnette about a recent post, she responded: Nothing new there. And what kind of a friend would I be if I thought you weren't entitled to your own opinions?

My conversation with the angry friend was briefly unsettling. Writing a blog is not writing an educational thesis, nor an op-ed journalistic piece. So, I don't expect to be called upon to defend what I write. I mean, I've moved on to the next topics in the next blogposts, but I suppose I could be prepared to defend the opinions stated in a previous post if I was given a heads-up: Hey, I read something on your blog that I disagree with. Can we talk about it?  Instead, being couched in the middle of a let's catch-up call, it felt like a bit of an ambush. And... it felt a bit parental. As if I my behavior was necessitating a lecture of disapproval. Afterwards, I reread the offending post. I stand by it. And, simply put, I will continue to assume that if friends and readers don't like what I am writing, they will simply not read my blog.

I did, however, feel sad that I had caused a friend to feel upset, especially in the midst of this maelstrom of Covid angst. This particular grist for my writing mill was a moderately liberal viewpoint regarding reform in a hot button issue. It certainly was not written about her specifically, nor in any way mindfully, but clearly it hit a nerve with her. And for that there was some remorse. Not for the expression of my opinion, but that it collaterally offended someone I care about.

My writing process is essential in my life. And, perhaps even more so right now. And, writing through a politically-correct filter in a fruitless attempt to please all of the people all of the time would grind my blog, my memoir and all of my writing, to a halt. I am happy to have friends who read my blog. But, in all honesty, I would be happy to have no one reading it. It's not about the reading. It's about the writing. And, frankly, it is about getting through these times which are almost insurmountably difficult. I am trying my best to get through them by utilizing all I can to help me to do so. Perhaps in better times I will write more cheerfully, and less politically. And I do believe better times are ahead. In the meantime, I took heart in what another friend wrote to me recently regarding a different post:

It's your opinion and your beliefs which shouldn't be offensive to anyone who knows you well enough to read it. I think it's very brave to open up and be so thoughtful of current issues.

I truly and absolutely love the process of writing. Without writing and dancing, I don't know how I could survive everything that has been thrown at me. Both allow me to lose myself in the complete joy of the process. And I would still feel that joy without anyone reading what I write, and most certainly without everyone agreeing with everything I write. But, on the other hand, an affirmation like that above? As Joel would say: It's the cherry on the top (or the one luciously marinating in the bottom of my Thanksgiving manhattan cocktail). Happy Thanksgiving to you, with abundant gratitude for us all making it this far in 2020, and with fervent hope for all of the freedom in the year ahead of us! Be well! 💟