Save me: Intervention Time

Intervention

I have never been a part of an intervention before. I have only ever seen them on TV sitcoms. Usually a bunch of friends gather at the person’s home who needs help, accuse them of a bunch of stuff and demand they change. Sounds awful.

I need one.

I was the person who would have coffee with my best friend and tell her our friendship would be over if she didn’t take her Christmas lights down – because it was February for crying out loud. To be fair, it is always -gazillion degrees F and no one wants to be on a ladder in a blizzard. Yet I judged her and everyone else on the street.

I was the person who mocked people when they confessed that their Christmas Tree didn’t come down by January 7th – I gave them a week after New Year, I was being kind. You see, I grew up in a home where the Christmas Tree came down on Boxing Day (December 26th for those who don’t celebrate it) Because my mom always said, “when Christmas is over, it is OVER!” Sometimes she would take it down right after Christmas Dinner because…say it with me…”When Christmas is over it is OVER!”

Well…

Guess what?

Karma is real and present in my life.

Today is January 31, 2013 and my Christmas tree is still in my living-room in all her Tiffany & Co glory. She is still beautiful. I No longer light her up because THAT would be wrong, it is January 31st for goodness sake.

Not that excuses are okay, but I have a few. School is nuts, I started my own consulting business and THAT has kept me super busy. Lets face it people, I also have a life! I read, I run, I go out for coffee, I am a busy girl!

The good news is, my daughter is just like me. She will pick up odd jobs and hoard her money away. I may have to hire her to take it down. I know, I should just TELL her to do it, but that will only work if I help. Typically she has a host of other chores she must do because to live in THIS family, one must contribute to keep the house running. The Christmas tree is not part of that…or is it?

My home has fallen apart. I have laundry drying in the kitchen, clean dishes sitting in the drip rack, the vacuum sitting at the front door, dust bunnies lurking in corners, and here I am blogging instead of doing something about it.

The solution? I could invite people over, that usually motivates me to clean up. I could hire someone – but that costs money and I am cheap. I could ignore it – I am AWESOME at ignoring, or I can rely on my friends to come over and give me the stink eye and shame me. It may come down to that – SHAME ME INTO TAKING DOWN THE TREE!

Wow, and just when I thought I had it all going on, clearly I am delusional.

Please, this is my cry for help, save me.

Now what do I do?

Canada
Canada (Photo credit: palindrome6996)

Sometimes I hear words spouted from people’s mouths and think… wow you aren’t the person I thought you were.

I am struggling with cultural values lately. Maybe it has more to do with society’s lack of empathy for others. It is happening at work, with friends and at home.  It very possibly could be me and I am not seeing the whole picture, but suddenly I am feeling like a minority in the way I think. This has happened to me before when I lived in Yellowknife, North West Territories.

I was 6. I was in Mrs. Long’s grade one class. I believe we were the only grade only class but I could be mistaken…I was 6 afterall. I was often one of only a handful of kids who went to school regularly – The aboriginal population would take their children off to the bush and hunt for long periods of time. That left 4 of us in class some days. Me, Maria, Admira (who was MEAN and stole stuff) and Doug – he would eat all the crayons left out. I remember hearing the teachers (who were primarily white middle class from southern Canada) talk about the aboriginal kids and if only the parents would send their kids to school on a regular basis, what a difference it would make to their future…. hmmm would it?

I hear myself saying the same thing in my classroom. This child needs to come to school everyday, what a difference it would make!

Sure it would. They would be able to speak English, have that advantage when learning to read, absorb my values that I deem important. Yikes… Who am I to say what this child needs? I like to think my values are typically Canadian. Girls can grow up and own property, vote, have a say in their lives. Girls should be able to run and laugh without having to worry what the boys might think. It feels like I have to fight for women’s rights all over again when all those women who came before me did a decent job…clearly it wasn’t enough.

I sat in my quite living room with my family last night talking about traveling to Eastern Europe. We talked about visiting Auschwitz in Poland. I want my children to learn about cultural oppression and feel its wrath and wrongness. A comment came up about the horrible feeling going back to Germany. Wait a minute…what? I need to educate my family on the difference between Nazis and Germans. I am German. I did not contribute to the Holocaust. I am helping the fight against wrong doing but teaching what happened to my children. I hear phrases like, how could they do that? Who the Germans or the Nazis? We don’t know what they were thinking being in that position. We can only learn from it and not do it ourselves.

Here I am in the 21st century, starting to feel like I am losing my cultural heritage and feeling helpless because the laws and policies of today are allowing freedoms of others and forcing me to be sympathetic to them…yet no one is seeing that I need the same consideration. I feel like I am drowning in a sea of political correctness while the wolves are being crafty and taking advantage of the good natured Canadians. It makes me want to leave. But where do I go?

Karmic payback for thousands of years? OR do I just not get it?