age is but a number in time

 shhh….

can you hear it?

tic-toc. tic-toc. tic-toc.

it’s rhythmic. 

up. 

down. 

up. 

down.

something i discovered about myself a while ago is that i am fixated with time. this ranges from near-manic obsession with the minutes of the day melting away to hyper-focusing on the passage of time, or the passING of time. is it any wonder i studied history? shockingly, though, i don’t really focus on the future in terms of what i’ll be, or even, will i be. “age” has always been an “other” to me. i can understand “age” in relation to the past, but i have trouble applying an understanding of it to the future (my future).

as a child, i thought that when i became an adult, i would have all the answers. i turned 18 and still had questions. then 21, 25, 30 and still had questions. when my mom passed away in 2016, she left behind a list of plans she hoped to one day complete. realizing that we will die never doing all we wanted to do saddened me to no end. i questioned, what was the point then? it still saddens me when i think about it, but i’m not as nihilistic about it anymore. despite all of this, i guess i always assumed that by retirement age and beyond, i would have figured out, at least, some things. right? Right?

recently, i watched the movie Poms starring Diane Keaton. it has an all-star cast that includes Rhea Perlman, Pam Grier, and Celia Weston. i had no idea what it was about, but i love Diane Keaton, so i pressed “play.” what a treat!

as i watched Diane Keaton’s character, Martha, navigate through the emotions of selling all her belongings and moving to a retirement community to live out the last weeks of her life, i began to ponder how necessary these types of movies are. nothing about the age of this cast made the movie any better or worse than a movie in which the cast is all under 30. the glaring difference, of course, is that Martha is staring mortality in the face. and…so…So What? well, i think, this is key. we all like to think we’re immortal and we all like to think we’re not going to age.

watching Poms made me fully realize something. life as we know it doesn’t end at a certain age, nor does it end *because* you’re a certain age, and people in their 70s still have similar concerns that i have in my 40s, many of which are similar to the concerns i had in my 20s. sure, aspects of a 40-something-year old are different from the 20-something version, but, i believe, the core of who we are remains a pretty straight line. i watched these older women face challenges of friendship and family, sex and sexiness, and self-acceptance. you mean, none of those challenges get fully solved by your 70s? by golly! how refreshing!

in the movie, Martha and her friends want to be cheerleaders and are faced with obstacles varying from ageism to sheer physical challenges. of course, they overcome all that, even if the physical part is a bit slower. and, there’s nothing wrong with that! no one can expect a 75-year old body to operate in the same way a 25-year old body would. the depressing truth is that we have been conditioned to hide away the 75-year old body. why? the human body is beautiful and mesmerizing. when treated well and when respected, it can achieve so much, regardless of age. i think we need to honor bodies of all ages and stages, and we need to not hide them after a certain time - especially women’s bodies. we are so hungry for youth and remaining young that we deny the possibilities of what beauty and adventure awaits us when we are no longer a young age.

it brought me so much joy to watch Martha and her cheer squad rehearse their routines and learn different movements, not to mention being challenged to love and accept themselves as they are. i knew what the movie’s ending would bring and, yet, i still cried because it hit close to home, but my heart was so full. this kind of a movie underscores that we won’t have it all figured out by 75, or 80, or 100, should we live that long. but, that is OK because what matters most is that we appreciate the now. strangely, knowing i won’t have it all figured out in 30+ years doesn’t bother me as much as not achieving dreams and long-term to-do lists. there’s that pesky issue with time creeping in, but, with that aside, it’s important to remember that it’s the memories we make along the way that help guide us over the years. by ignoring the fact we won’t, or don’t, have the agility of our youth dishonors all that we have experienced. these experiences, after all, helped usher us into an older age in the first place.

at 75, one may not be able to run a 25K, but it doesn’t mean you cannot run. at 85, one may not be able to dance with a dance company, but it doesn’t mean you cannot dance. at 95, the wrinkles can’t be hidden, but it doesn’t mean one must hide. run, dance, and be seen, but, most importantly, smile in any way you can at whatever age you are. 

your soul will love it.

tic-toc.

Those Who Can, Zoom

Presenting my latest project starring Elektra Cohen, Amanda Lynne, Suzan Mikiel, Paul Petschek, and Allison Youngberg with Music by Josh Hershfield (www.joshhershfield.com).

Teaching remotely. What could go wrong?

(Video contains explicit language.)

5 years without her

five years gone.

five.

the first two to three were rougher than rough. trying to handle this monumental change on top of other monumental changes that occurred in the 11 months prior to my mom’s passing was trying, exhausting, and numbing. i missed so much of my 2nd daughter’s early childhood as a result, and while the mind understands, the heart finds it hard to forgive. there were milestones both daughters’s met without my mom’s cheers or without her words of support. there were moments of getting blind-sided by overwhelming grief like coming across a forgotten hand-written note while looking for something else or opening the closet and suddenly getting a waft of her smell that is still on the scarves i inherited.

having to redefine and reconfigure your life without a loved one as the rest of the world hums along is one of the most challenging experiences many of us will go through.

is today as difficult as it was 4-5 years ago? no. life’s routines and responsibilities, in this way, are a saving grace. my girls were my saving grace. they were a daily reminder that “life goes on.” but the brain still seeks a “How To” book; a timeline of what happens when. we want answers. we want to know what to expect. we want to be prepared. we want to gauge others’s experiences, compare it to ours and determine if we are “on the right track.” someone said to me that i must share my grief so that they will know what exactly to expect and how it will “be.” i am here to emphatically say there is no “How To” book. this is fundamentally why grief is so God damn lonely. your grief will be different from mine. it may take years for one to reach the anger stage. it took me less than 4 weeks. some stay in that stage for a long time. i didn’t. there is no guidebook to say “On Day 46 you will feel like ‘     .’ it all sucks, and the only way is through. 

the only way is through.

it's easy to think the big events will get you: the bday celebrations that won't happen, the holidays, the anniversary of the passing... those aren't easy, per se, but, for me the hardest has been all the little things in between that i always took for granted. the letter in the mail, the phone call, the "just because" packages. i still sometimes check my email in the morning to see if she's written me. 

i recently handed off to my sister some clothes that our mom had sent me for my daughter, and as i showed them, i happened to say "Myti" out loud (which is what we called her). as her name passed my lips, i realized i couldn't remember the last time i said her name out loud. that stung. 

then, a few weeks ago, i went for a walk and found myself at my daughters's school and it hit me that soon it'll be a year since covid shut us down. i stared at the jungle gym bar that my older spent the first 4-5 months of school playing on trying to learn how to flip over. i remembered the day she met me after school excited that she had finally accomplished her goal. seeing her so happy overflowed my heart with joy. i turned it into a teachable moment about how important it was to not give up and not give in to fear when you want to achieve something. i stood there now recognizing that my daughter’s accomplishment was something i could never share with my mom. i started to cry as my grief for my mom became entangled in my grief for this last year with covid, and the crying turned to sobbing as the hole in my heart throbbed wanting nothing more than for my mom to tell me all will be ok. that i will be ok. that i can handle all of *this.* that i'm strong and will survive like i always have.

this is why there's no "How to." what hit me maybe wouldn’t hit someone else. and if it did, maybe it would happen on Day 73 or Day 5,227, respectively. for me it was Day 1,798 and Day 1,800, respectively.

despite the heaviness in my heart, i have done much emotional kneading in the last five years. i’ve always been pretty good at self-analysis, but this time it’s different because it is punctuated by, and driven by, my mother’s loss. i continuously analyze my life and my past, and how it all fits into the road that i wish to carve out for myself. i will share one thing that has become crystal clear. it is so cliché, but, for me, it is so true, and so important that i’m going to say it anyway: my life isn’t driven so much by fear now as it is driven by my desire to accumulate as many moments (memories) as possible that fulfill my soul. i am lucky that prior to my mom’s death, i already had many such memories, but it is now a purpose. often such occasions are spontaneous and i try to seize such experiences when they present themselves. it’s good to have a plan, but it’s even better to be open to flexibility. this has also been, unfortunately, a rather challenging wish to fulfill because not everyone around me feels this way, or even ever understands this. sometimes reaching fulfillment takes effort and to some, the effort isn’t worth the reward. it’s possible “reward” is viewed differently, but i have become all the more convinced that effort is in of itself a “reward.” after much self-reflection, i realized i have spent quite a bit of my life in the last 23 years or so in a passive state because of fear, allowing the trap of don’t-venture-outside-of-your-box to dictate decisions.

work, laundry, paying bills, picking up toys, organizing closets…the list goes on and on…those things are never ending. i’ve done marathon laundry days, i’ve washed mountains of dishes, had marathon cooking days…those help in the short-term, but i know that on my deathbed i won’t be thinking about those never-ending chores. you hear such things over the years, but there’s a difference between hearing and knowing. i still do all of those necessary-to-function chores, but i now view their worth differently which, based on various grief readings i have done, often comes with the territory of losing a loved one, often a parent(s), often your mom.(1)

on February 26, 2016, as my mom transitioned, i stroked her hand and told her to let go, to fly free, that it was OK and that we would miss her, but that i would always remember her and i would talk about her to my girls. i thanked her for everything; for all our times together, for all the experiences we had, for being in my life, and that now it was time for her to be free. not once did i think about all those bills we helped each other pay or whatever fights we had or how she upset me or the ways in which i felt she was being unreasonable. it was the moments and experiences we had together; the overall journey. later, my thoughts fell to wanting to sit down with her just one more time to discuss, or argue, politics, or to discuss religion and spirituality, challenges and/or any hopes and dreams we had, or to talk about mundane things like lesson plans. life’s routine and schedule will always be there. there’s no escaping the societal construct we have created, and there’s nothing necessarily wrong with that. but, i no longer want that to be this tunnel vision like it has been for so many years. what’s unfortunate is that covid hit just as i began to awaken to this shift in focus and i’ve been forced to put off some of those bigger moments i seek to have. but, i accept the gift this virus has given and i try to find ways to have constructive time with family especially my girls. i’m silly with them, i dance with them, i play with them, i make art with them, we talk religion or have more difficult conversations like racism and white privilege (yes, you can have those conversations with children!), and i look forward to the many days ahead where we sit down with some wine and some lighted candles, and discuss, or argue, politics, or discuss religion and spirituality, or any challenges and/or any hopes and dreams we have, or to talk about the mundane things whatever they may be at the moment. the only constant is change, and change knows only one direction: forward. 

i want, more than anything else, for my “forward moments” to be filled with many more of my “best moments.” it is how i want to honor my mom, and it is how i want to honor me.

(1) i highly recommend The Orphaned Adult by Alexander Levy

Imagination Knows No Gender

Hate. Love. Hate. Love. Hate. Love. And so it goes, this complicated relationship with fashion that I have had since I was a little girl.

Being a fat child, I quickly learned that fashion wasn’t meant for me. Over the years, I developed a deep love for accessories. Purses, jewelry, hats; I couldn’t get enough. These were things that didn’t require going into a changing room only to be disappointed. I could wear my black-colored outfits and splash them with color and style using the various purses and accessories I wore. For many years, this worked.

Of course, now, the fashion bar has moved. Stylish fashion isn’t just for the size 0 crowd anymore, and while not all areas and malls carry plus-sized clothing stores, the choices and variety out there is much more abundant than even just 15 years ago. For this, I am grateful.

But…this isn’t what I wanted to focus on. Let’s talk children’s clothing. More specifically, clothing for girls.

The gender stereotyping is a horror show. I have two daughters and my hate, love, hate, love relationship with fashion continues.

We, Americans, love to stand out. We practically salivate from craving individuality. One way we seek this precious uniqueness and individuality is through fashion. The image we seek to portray to the world is very much told through the clothes we choose to wear in public regardless of whether it is our “casual” look or our “professional” look. However, diving deeper beneath the surface of the fashion industry, I find a very catered world of how each gender is to express said uniqueness and individuality. We’re made to believe we have some sort of choice, but, do we?

One of the saving graces of growing up fat in the 80s is that whatever was “in” at the moment never fit me. Knock-offs were tough to wear because they were cheap and made me stand out even more. However, not being able to run out and get whatever was the latest trend contributed, in part, to me not being a “girly-girl” (much to my mother’s constant dismay). In the 90s, when the alternative music scene hit and the short-lived grunge style came along with it, it was like the fashion gods heard my cry.

However, rejecting the “girly-girl” image early on has presented some challenges in raising two girls who *are* extremely “girly.” I want them to wear pants and t-shirts and they want the frilliest, most poofy dresses possible mixed with the brightest colors in existence, topped with a Disney princess crown and feet in little heels. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but it’s here to stay, and I’m working on accepting this part of my life. It’s an on-going process, I admit.

Now, despite all these sensational "girly" vibes, my girls are also into some of the coolest things. They love science, planets, geology, geography, dinosaurs, robots, deep sea fish, animals, legos (where they build their own worlds, cars, planes, robots, etc), history, and, yes, even a little bit of religion and politics with their own opinions that don’t necessarily always agree with mine. (Yes!)

When I go to the girls section of a clothing store, all I find are sparkles and glitter, shiny t-shirts, frilly dresses and skirts, and an uncomfortable amount of pink and purple. Designs on t-shirts for girls are almost solely about friendships, fashion, or social media. When my older daughter was 3 1/2-years old, we moved to a town where the summers can get hot. That first summer in the new house, I went looking for shorts for her and I couldn’t find anything the was NOT a “short-short” with blinged-out lettering on the butt. I’m sorry, what? I didn’t want my child’s underwear to be showing underneath her shorts any more than I would want my 15-year old’s to be seen. I was shocked and disgusted to find that this sexualization of girls began at such a young age. It’s appalling.

Last week, I was at Carter’s (children’s clothing store) and found some items that I knew my girls would like, and that I could stomach. I then happened to go into the boys section to see if I could find anything for my nephew. Suddenly, right in front of me was this incredible t-shirt: an anglerfish with sharks! I stood there feeling like I had struck gold. My 5-year old would LOVE this! She’s obsessed with anglerfish. She constantly talks about them.

Some weeks back, we found Google search has this cool option to view animals in 3D and we had to view the anglerfish multiple times (along with the other animals) and she wanted to find out all she could about it. I recently checked out a kid’s book from the library about anglerfish and, when I brought it home, she took it, and sat on the couch to look at it. We read some of it together and then, at some point, she took the book to dad to read more.

I stood in the aisle at Carter’s and my elation quickly grew to anger. Why wasn’t this t-shirt ALSO in the girls section?! I looked around. All the science, all the sharks, all the dinos, all the building and all the superheroes, all these “manly” images surrounded me. When I looked across the store to the girls section, it was shining bright with all the sparkles and glitter, and messages of popularity. Enough!

There is nothing wrong with all the sparkle and glitter. I have, over the years, embraced a more “girly” side to me. Not only do I love me some sparkle and glitter, I will even wear a dress or a skirt, and feel good in one. But why, oh, why, oh why, does that have to be the ONLY option for girls? And why are the stereotypical “manly” images the only options for boys? I, personally, know of, at least, 2 boys who love glitter and sparkles and the colors pink and purple, but who also love trucks and racing cars and guns and swords, and bless their exhausted mommas for finding creative ways for them to indulge in these interests.

Why can’t we have more gender-neutral stores? Why can’t we get rid of a “girls section” and a “boys section?” A boy shouldn’t feel bad if he wants to wear a fairy on his shirt or pants, and a girl should be given the choice of wearing a dinosaur fossil on her shirt or dress. Kids like what they like, and much of what they’re into, they will probably outgrow. Kids thrive in their imagination. Let us allow for that! Imagination knows no gender! If we truly want to value uniqueness and individuality, then let’s present the whole picture. Let’s provide choices to the kids that will actually tap into that uniqueness and individuality instead of having only an industry’s catered world of what it defines uniqueness and individuality to be, and done so entirely based on the biological sex with which a child was born. Humans are more complex than that, and that is what makes us so beautiful. Let's credit that appropriately.

Below is a list of companies that I feel provide some alternatives. I wish the list was longer. I wish there were any brick and mortar stores. A couple of months ago I purchased “I Will Vote” dresses from Princess Awesome, and my girls love them because when they twirl, the dresses twirl out wide and it makes them giggle with joy. I love it because they have America’s colors and help start conversations about government and voting. Yes, that can be boring to them (I won’t lie), but seeds, people. I’m planting seeds. 

After all, what else are children if not seeds of our future? How healthy do you want yours to be?

                                                                  *** *** ***

#clotheswithoutlimits - a list of 8 companies that are doing exactly what we need

this site lists 7 companies that offer gender-neutral clothing.

rainbow shops - (a lot of “girly” options, but it offers a couple of clothes with images of little black girls on them - another area the fashion industry fails to fulfill - and the site offers plus sizes for women, so i’m including them on my list.)

and just because, biodegradable glitter to help do our part in staying "girly" but also not harming the environment.

Just Kids Campaign - a post made by two Norwegian moms calling out to H&M to change their approach to their line of clothing for boys and girls. They took the store’s clothes and mixed and matched them on boys and girls without gender stereotyping and created a video posted below. It is fantastic, and it is my sincere wish is to see so much more of something like this.

Dear Parents, Stop

We're drowning. In so many different ways, we're drowning. From climate change to chemical dependency to the disappearance of critical thinking skills. How long do we humans have left?

Over the last 20 years of teaching, one of the most disturbing trends I have witnessed among parents is the pressure put on children to be perfect, to be the best, to be the most competitive in order to attain whatever recognition possible. It is almost impossible, I think, for us to not place our insecurities on to our children, but we must be aware of when we are doing it. I also think it's a fallacy to believe that our children are carbon copies of us. They may look like us genetically, and they may have some inherited traits, but they are 100% their own people. To push our own insecurities on to them is inflicting more damage than we can imagine. I'm not a psychologist, but I speak from experience.

My mom's insecurities with relationships, which stem from growing up with a cold mother and an alcoholic father, were pushed on to me convincing me for a long time to be distrustful of men. It took years for me to realize and recognize that each man is an individual. Not all men are assholes. So, let's say you are competitive and feel inadequate unless you win 1st place, you are probably pushing that same insecurity on to your children, teaching them that one has no value unless you are #1, when the true lesson should be that everyone has value regardless. And maybe your child doesn't care to be so competitive. Have you asked? Maybe your child has other interests. Have you asked? Have you had an honest conversation about what your child may want? Adults tend to think kids of all ages have no opinions, but they do. Oh, they do.

At Lithuanian school, for the last 3 years or so, we have had a symposium where the 11th and 12th graders are given the floor to describe about what challenges they feel today's youth face. Every year my heart breaks. Consistently, more than half of the students talk about all the pressures they face from family and school to get good grades, to do well on their SAT, to excel in anything they do, to get into an exceptional university, and to be in as many extra-curricular activities as possible, but to also not forget to have an active and fun social life. I know it affects the wealthy, but are you truly surprised by the college admissions scandal that hit last year?

Every single student mentioned that their days often begin before 6am, how they rush to school (some starting their first class by 7am), have classes until 3pm or so, then sports or other lessons, come home early evening, and then sit down for 3-4 hours of homework. Many of them aren't getting to bed until midnight, sometimes later, only to start the day again before 6am. Teenagers should be getting 8-10 hours of sleep. I have yet to meet one that gets that much sleep. Guess what happens to the brain and body when you don't get enough sleep? I think there's enough evidence of the negative effects.

These kids are 16 and 17 years old.

These kids are overworked and tired.

These kids are desperate and sinking.

Read again: These kids are sinking.

Again: KIDS.

These. Are. Kids. And they're drowning.

The more popular social media becomes, the more apps, the more cyber inter-connectedness, the more pressure to be perfect and the deeper the dive below the surface gets.

What are we doing?

According to Business Insider, when analyzing education world-wide, the US ranked

            #6 in 1990 and now

            #27 in 2016.

In math, out of 71 countries, the US ranked

            #38 and

In science, the US ranked

            #24.

What happened over 30 years? We started spending less money on education than other countries even though student enrollment increased. We do not value education. Yet, we sure like to pile on the pressure to excel in it.

What in the actual hell?

Something has to give. When we live out of balance, we get sick. In some way shape or form, we get sick. Maybe it's emotionally, maybe it's physically, maybe it's psychologically. We are not meant for all this pressure. We are not meant to separate ourselves from each other. We are not meant to separate ourselves from nature. We are not meant to separate ourselves from creativity and thought and adventure. We are not meant to separate ourselves from boredom. Being the best and having the most gets you nothing in the end. No amount of awards, money, or accolades will get you out of death. Those awards, the money, and the accolades will be thrown away, distributed, and forgotten.

My wish for people is to see their children as individuals with their own strengths and weaknesses, and help them build on their strengths. Don't force your missed dreams on them. Listen to them and try not to take their weaknesses and mistakes as some sort of failure on your part. We all have strengths and weaknesses, both of which are worthy and valuable to work on. Our strengths and weaknesses are our own - like our thumbprint - and they bring us lessons from which we can learn, if we are open to them. Guide your children to find theirs without you tainting them with your own skewed view of things.

Our children are drowning and they are begging for help. We are the adults. We should know better. We should guide better. We should live better. 

Let. Them. Be. Free.

9,000 Died. Listen.

In less than an hour, 9,000 perished.

The ship was built to accommodate about 1,900 people.

Worst maritime disaster in history and her story lost to the waves that swallowed her.

I have 2 degrees in history, the first of which required multiple European history courses to be taken at both Santa Monica College and UCLA, but it's only now, about 75 years later, I learned about the #1 worst maritime disaster in history. This is what "under rug swept" does.

I teach Rūta Šepetys's Between Shades of Gray - an historical fiction novel championed by Lithuanians because it's the first time a mainstream book was written to tell the story about the atrocities Lithuanians, Latvians, and Estonians among others suffered under Stalin. An act of genocide to which America turned a blind eye in order to unite with Russia to defeat Hitler. After so many years of teaching that book, I decided I should read something else by Šepetys. I read Salt to the Sea in one day and would be haunted by its story, this disaster, for days.

The ship, Wilhelm Gustloff, was originally built in the 1930s by Hitler to be used as a type of cruise ship for the German Labour Front program which subsidized leisure activities for German workers. One had to be chosen by the Nazi Party, however, to get to sail on her. All the rooms on the ship were built in equal size except, of course, for one; the one to be used solely by Hitler. By 1939, the Gustloff was mainly docked, and it wouldn't be until 1944 when it was to be used to carry injured German soldiers and refugees from East Prussia to Germany over the Baltic Sea.

Registration of the soldiers and refugees stopped on January 27th when the number count of passengers reached 7,956; however, witnesses say that another 2,000 people boarded the ship before she set sail on January 30, 1944. Remember, the ship was built for roughly 1,900 people and, for perspective, the Titanic lost 1,500 people in 1912.

A Soviet submarine had trailed the Gustloff for some time before firing 4 torpedoes. Only 3 would make a direct hit; the fourth had a problem in release and never fired off.

            A deep popping came from the ship. Its bones were snapping, breaking

            from the contortion pressure. The rounded stern sloped vertically

            toward the sky. People dangled from their railings, screaming. Others

            plummeted backward to their death. An explosion detonated from 

            within the boat under the water. Suddenly, the entire ship lit up...And

            then the lights vanished. The boat disappeared into the black...[as it

            sunk] to the bottom of the sea [with thousands still trapped inside.]

            A momentary quiet followed leaving nothing but the sound of the

            wind and waves. (pp. 350-351)

Silence.

For decades, silence.

It's unfathomable to me. These kinds of disasters don't fit into my brain. The sentence, "People dangled from their railings, screaming" reminds me of the people at the Twin Towers on 9/11, another unfathomable disaster 57 years later.

I'm haunted by all the cruelty we humans can inflict on each other and I'm haunted by the lies and secrecy these cruelties birth. The sinking of the Gustloff was silenced because Germany couldn't admit to a defeat. When people discussed it, they were immediately shut down or were told they were making it all up. I imagine, eventually, people just stopped talking about it. "Under rug swept."

I have never envisioned a utopian society. In fact, I have trouble seeing how that would even work successfully. But the level of hatred and the level of violence that groups of people can, and do, inflict on to the world hurts my heart. This hatred and violence that comes in various forms such as attacking a country, starting a genocide, or ostracizing a group based on skin color, sexuality, or gender identification starts with a seedling of self-hatred that grows and organizes with others who feel the same way. It's never admitted, though, this self-hatred. It just presents itself in hatred for another. If a person is comfortable with him/herself, then it wouldn't matter that the person next to him/her is wealthier or poorer, is of one religion or the other, or is part of the LGBQT+ community or not.

And truth will always prevail. Maybe not in one's lifetime, but it will. It seeks light. And it will prevail because someone, somewhere is connected to an incident and will feel inclined to tell the story. Yes, there have been movies made and books written about the sinking of the Wilhelm Gustloff, but, I think, it still remains mostly hidden. Šepetys found out that some cousins were supposed to be on that ship, but didn't make it on before she set sail. To Šepetys, the disaster became personal. And while I personally don't have a connection to this sinking that I know of, it is one more atrocity connected to World War II during which my grandparents were alive. There is a collective memory of the war that is very much alive. So, one can sweep all one wants, but the dust will never truly settle. Memories travel. Ever wonder why we're drawn to certain things, certain stories, certain parts of history more than others? 

This makes me think of epigenetics - the study of inheriting memories. Scientists have found, at least among animals, that memory seems to be inherited. This seems to be particularly present with phobias and trauma. I fully believe this could apply to humans too. If so, phobias and memories could be passed down which would mean that experiences family members had during WWII, for example, could very well be deeply ingrained in our psyche. I have always believed we are all connected in ways we cannot fathom. Scientists have long found that the way we think about situations affects our health. It's a reason there's such a push to be positive because our cells react positively to good thoughts. Scientists have also long found that when we're surrounded by a tremendous amount of negativity, it suppresses our immunity. Imagine what else it's probably doing to our bodies. Cells get altered. I don't see how that couldn't NOT affect any future offspring. Again, we are all connected in some way shape or form.

Here's a simplified example. Ever experience bad customer service? You don't know the employee, but your paths happen to cross on a day that, let's say, something bad happened to the employee. That person's negative attitude irritates you which makes you snap back. The employee gets deeper into a funk and now you're affected. This negative exchange sits with you long after you leave the place of business. You share it on Facebook and/or Twitter, you tell family, etc. Whatever happened in that employee's life affected you and you kept that negativity going with others. This is a simple example, but it's a way to show the interconnectedness that extends far beyond the bubble of what happened to the employee in his or her life. Imagine that on a global scale and with atrocities. Someone who survives a sinking, a concentration camp, a plane flying into a tower...the effects of such trauma changes a person all the way to the DNA level. I'm no scientist, yes, but I feel this in my heart to be true. We feel each other's joy and we feel each other's pain. Who's to say that all doesn't get passed down genetically?

No one can stop atrocities from happening, unfortunately. And none of us can change the past, but the least we can do is honor those who perished so senselessly on January 30, 1944. It is our duty as their future generations to pay respect to the lives they lived. One of the ways we can do that is by pulling back the rug and giving their story light. Let us take them out of hiding. Give them a voice.

This is my humble attempt to do just that.

Click here for a list of survivors and other details such as which ship rescued them, a list of those missing, and those who died.

Some other books about the sinking of the Wilhelm Gustloff: Death In the Baltic: The World War II Sinking of the Wilhelm Gustloff by Cathryn Prince and The Damned Don't Drown: The Sinking of the Wilhelm Gustloff by A.V. Sellwood, and The Cruellest Night: Germany's Dunkirk and the Sinking of the Wilhelm Gustloff by Christopher Dobson

the reawakening

just a day. one day. that's all i needed to complete the challenge.

a year and half ago, i bought a book titled Do One Thing a Day That Scares You and i have done, to date, exactly two things. my second challenge was to live without social media for one day. i've done that before, but it was never on purpose. this time, it would be a conscious choice.

and, boy, conscious it was.

typically, i hopped on FB multiple times throughout the day for 5-10 minutes at a time. i'd be in between something and often scold myself for not just letting myself "be" for those moments, but it was an easy voice to shut off. so, on that first day, it was no surprise to have to stop myself multiple times from logging on. i realized how hopping on so many times affected my attention and how often i used this as an excuse to push off starting a project. this would then lead me to stay on social media longer than planned which would delay starting a project, if at all. then i'd beat myself up for letting another day slip by without getting to "that" (whatever "that" would be). at the end of that first day, i realized that i got SO.MUCH.DONE. i then decided to extend the challenge one more day. then, one more. then, one more, and now i'm at 4 weeks.

keeping myself off social media opened up a world i had forgotten about. it also made me realize how social media affected my mood, and living without it has allowed me to feel grief on a level i didn't think possible because i was present with every emotion. 

let me first say what social media i'm on. i have FB, instagram, and twitter accounts. FB was my only social media outlet for most of the last 10 years. i signed up with twitter over a year ago and quickly realized it made my blood boil faster than FB did, so i rarely went on it by choice. i signed up for an instagram account last year and have enjoyed that immensely as i use it for artistic reasons only. 

the internet is such an easy place to spread misinformation, and as much as i would like to lay misinformation at the feet of trump and his supporters, this issue belongs to everyone, even me. i have been called out more than once for sharing something on FB that was false. and, while i do try to take the time before sharing to do a quick search to see what other news sources are saying about a particular topic, things slip. having to research an article's authenticity takes time and that is scarce. lame excuse, but true.

so i went back to reading just the paper that gets delivered. i know i'm getting news that's at least 24 hours old, but i don't care. i'm reading from a legitimate source and i don't have to go research on-line to see if it's true. i trust the journalist at the Los Angeles Times to have already done that for me which is why they're the journalists and i am not. anyone can pretend to be a journalist on-line, and too many do. people also forget opinion is not fact. for this, we can thank trump and his supporters.

even though i'm reading the news from one main source, i still get enraged by whatever idiotic thing trump has done, thought, or said, but i then take that anger and release it by working on, and completing, a project, by playing with my children (imagine that!), by cooking, by going outside and watering my plants and smiling at the butterflies and birds. this is just a small example of what has changed and it has been amazing for my soul. by popping on FB multiple times throughout the day, i've been bombarding myself with all the horrible things that exist in this world. i was angry ALL the time. all.the.time. i felt like the end of the world was happening every day. i worried about the future. i couldn't believe how stupid our country had gotten. all this and more, every day, buzzing around in my brain. for 4 weeks now i have been free of this. do i still worry about the future? hell yes. but it's not all-consuming right now. i find myself more present than before in whatever i'm doing in the moment that i'm doing it.

i've been listening to music more and reading. reading! both for pleasure and academic. i've been writing. i rediscovered photography with my Canon A-1 film camera and, in those "in between" moments, i sit and stare at a wall or cuddle my kids. 

i have also been grieving. hard. i cleaned out closets and approached projects i had wanted to do since we moved 3 years ago and others that i've been wanting to get to for 15-20 years. going through decades of photos tossed me into a whirlwind of emotions. i found letters that my mom left me written by my grandfather and some by my good-for-nothing father. my mom had told me about these letters throughout my life, but i thought they got lost in either the multiple moves my mom made in lithuania or in a flood that she had some years ago. i never realized i had them for the last 10 years, and making this discovery crippled me emotionally for a while. i don't think i would've been able to feel so deeply if i had hopped on FB, nor do i think i would've been able to process my findings for as long as i needed. i'm not someone who hides her life or emotions, but what of it if i had posted about my find that day? people would have read it, commented on it (maybe), clicked "like" (maybe) and then my feed would've scrolled on, the sentiment buried. just like we bury our emotions with all these social media distractions throughout the day. is it any wonder depression has skyrocketed? we hide behind a screen curating our lives to be the best version we feel it should be. most of us hide the ugly, and for those of us who don't necessarily do that, creating a post about the ugly doesn't do justice to the emotion's reality and, so, you're still left kind of empty no matter how many "likes" or comments you get. it took a few days for me to process and accept finding what i thought was lost, and without FB as a distraction, i couldn't bury it all in my feed.

will i be off social media forever? no, probably not, but i went back to instagram about a week or two ago and discovered that i'm spending more time on it than before which made me realize that social media feeds my "all or nothing" personality. it's this "all or nothing" that has gotten me into so much trouble throughout my life. i'm afraid that i will struggle with any attempts to limit my time on social media. 

as a result, i repeatedly ask myself, do i miss facebook? and, honestly? not really, though i have missed communicating with a few people with whom i'd communicate on a daily basis. i've seen that the way the world is now, social media is how we communicate with people. is this good? i don't think so, but i don't know what the solution is. i feel the social media ball is rolling down a hill and there's no way to slow it down, much less stop it. i also don't know how high that hill is, but it's very obvious the more people we connect with, and to, on social media, the lonelier we, as a society, feel. i read somewhere recently that we humans need human interaction and touch in order to function normally. this is one of the reasons it is strongly encouraged to hug children as much as possible; it releases endorphins which helps with development. if we don't get "x" amount of touch per day, we can slip into depression. how much time do you spend behind a screen vs spending time with someone, getting/giving a hug, holding a hand, or giving/getting a kiss? i bet the former gets more time. i know for the last 10 years it did for me.

it's up to us to change what's not working in our lives. the internet and social media are addictive, and while i don't have an addictive personality, per se, i totally believe i was - am - addicted. my challenge now is to find a balance between being a part of this century and not losing myself. i didn't like being angry or upset all the time or, dare i say, finding myself jealous of friends' posts, but i did often come across useful information that i wouldn't otherwise see. i need to find that balance, and find a way to have more contact in-person and less contact via computer screen. i challenge you to do the same.