It's begun, right here in New Zealand, and it makes me sad.
I saw a Facebook post by a New Zealander, shared by someone I know, suggesting that New Zealand place a ban on Burka's. And why? Well, because France and the Netherlands have done it, so it must be the right thing.... right?
This is the start of the decline, people. All of a sudden anger, hatred and mistrust start to erode our tolerance for other cultures and for religion. But it's all so misdirected! Can't you see that these people, people who happen to follow the Muslim religion of Islam, are as innocent of the world's problems as you and I are?
The perpetrators that carried out the attacks around the world on Friday the 13th November (yes, there was more than just Paris) are NOT Muslim, they do not follow Islam. Oh yes, they proclaim to be, but the religion that they pledge their lives to is not one that you will see a church or temple or mosque for as you drive down any street in New Zealand. If you don't understand Islam, or simply know nothing about it I recommend you educate yourself. If you don't, if you choose not to, then you have no right to speak out about something you know nothing of.
Look, the answer is really quite simple. If we do not come together as a people - and I don't explicitly mean just New Zealand here, but the world - if we maintain divisiveness then we will surely walk down a dark and dangerous path. The same path that led America to civil war in 1861 (primarily over slavery and sectionalism), the same path that led to the persecution and extermination of millions of Jews in the 1930's and 1940's and brought the world to war. It's the same path that led to apartheid in South Africa and the violence that ensued for years in that nation.
Do you see the connection in all these things? Conflict.
The people who perpetrate acts of terror around the world, or perhaps more accurately - those who claim responsibility for them - want to incite conflict. They want to divide the world. Do you know why? Because unless the do they will lose. They do not have a large army. They do not have a massive military industry producing weapons for them. They do not have trillions or even billions of dollars with which to purchase weapons. They scrounge what they can. They raid areas where they believe they can win. Oh, they have some backers, sure, but how long do you think those backers will continue to support them if they are failing in their mission and while the well-equipped nations of the world are blowing them into yesterday?
It's just business for those backers and if business isn't good you invest elsewhere. But if the tide looks to be turning and the innocent Muslim population of the world are being driven out and persecuted then we have a very different picture.
The women who wear Burka's down your street are not your enemy. They don't even know you. They just want to get on with their lives, like you and I do. They want to raise their children right, like you and I do. They want to have financial security, like you and I do. And they feel pain at seeing innocent people killed, just like you and I do. Don't deny them their rights and don't deny them their religion.
Understand them and accept them. You'd probably be surprised by just how much you actually have in common. But if you can't do that, if your stubbornness runs that deep, then just ignore them because they're not doing you any harm. Get on with your own life and leave them to get on with theirs, if that's the best you can do. No one will blame you for that.
But do not hate them for wanting to choose their own religion and do not, for the sake of all that you hold dear, DO NOT teach your children to hate them. Set an example for your children of tolerance and acceptance as best you can because, one day, your children might be in the same position these Muslim people are in now - eyed suspiciously because they "look different", because they wear the same clothes as those killers did.
Well you know what, you wear the same kind clothes that Charles Manson did. Think about it.
Sunday 22 November 2015
Sunday 8 November 2015
Doctor Who: The Zygon Surprise - Part Two
My initial decision to write about the first episode of the Zygon two-parter was born out of surprise at how good it was. I think I pretty much encapsulated that in the post so I won't go back to it, just read (or re-read) my blog post on The Zygon Surprise - Part One.
Now, with the conclusion of part two of that story I am even happier that I made the decision to write about it. This story rates, in my opinion, as one of the greatest Doctor Who stories of the new era. There was no letting up of the tension and suspense in the second episode. As soon as it started, it felt like we hadn't been away for a week, we were pulled right back into the story and I was immediately re-engaged.
So, before I get on to the good parts of this episode, and the story as a whole, let's eliminate the one weak point (which I don't think was even all that weak). It was no surprise that Kate Stewart was pretending to be Zygon-Kate. It was blatantly obvious, otherwise she simply wouldn't have come back to Zygon HQ. To be honest, though, I really didn't care that this particular sub-plot didn't work. In fact I really think it worked better this way because it didn't detract from the overall story. And the way that it was resolved on-screen was pretty bloody excellent, too. Kate's no nonsense answer of "Five rounds, rapid" was exactly what I would expect from her and her delivery seemed to eerily channel her father, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, once played by the delightful Nicholas Courtney (rest in peace, Sir).
So, in hindsight, the weak point was even that. It was simply a predictability in a story that was anything but predictable.
As for the accolades... where does one begin?
Kate was, in spite of what I said above, was great and Jemma Redgrave deserves a rousing applause for her role. The return of Osgood felt by no means contrived. The story lent itself beautifully to her return and having a bit more focus on her character was a great addition.
Peter Capaldi was, as usual, brilliant. I enjoyed the fact that the Doctor, for once, wasn't telegraphed as being constantly ahead of the game. It really felt like, though he had a plan and was confident in it, the end could have swung either way. Previous stories have been made out like the end was a foregone conclusion and that can detract from what would otherwise be a great story. Not this time, though. This time the Doctor had to work to get the story to end well and, wow, did he work. The Doctor's speech at the pivotal point of the story was outstanding. Peter Capaldi's delivery was right on the mark; his anger, his sadness, his frustration - all bubbling to the surface at once and creating such a palpable sense of his pain and anguish... it was the best delivered speech in Doctor Who that I can remember. The nods and references to the Time War and to the Day of the Doctor were subtly and cleverly written in. None of this ham-fisted, jarring insertion of references to look clever. They were written and delivered in such a way that they felt completely natural and heart-felt. It was outstanding drama.
And on that point... the writing! The first offering by Peter Harness, Kill the Moon, didn't leave a lasting impression with me. It wasn't a bad episode, by any means, it just wasn't, in my opinion, a good one. It sat somewhere in the middle. But with his Zygon escapade, Peter Harness has not only put his stamp on Doctor Who, he has set the bar on writing a great story. Season 9 has been remarkably good so far but Harness' Zygon story leaves all the others in it's wake. This will quickly become one of the absolute classics of the new Doctor Who era, and deservedly so.
Did everyone catch Harness' references to the classic Who story Terror of the Zygons and the more subtle reference to Harry Sullivan, a companion of the fourth Doctor? The revelation that the Osgood boxes were empty wasn't too much of a surprise but a very clever way, regardless, to reveal who was willing to play the game and who would see the world burn to protect their way. The "today everybody lives" conclusion (without needing to actually say it) was refreshing and highly reminiscent of many great classic Who stories.
The Director, Daniel Nettheim, also deserves mention here for maintaining a great steady pace and atmosphere. Character direction was superb and his attention to lighting and location helped this story a winner.
The absolute stand-out performance to me, though, was Jenna Coleman's. Her portrayal of both Clara and Bonnie was brilliant. I never imagined that she could make Clara/Bonnie so beautifully bad! I simply can't pinpoint any specifics here because, in my opinion, her entire performance was flawless. I firmly believe that Jenna Coleman deserves a supporting actor award for her role in this story. Clara's character has really come into her own as Capaldi's companion and it's both a shame and great that we're seeing the very best of her on the eve of her departure. Despite the Clara haters out there, I believe Jenna Coleman will leave some rather large shoes to fill.
I've never given anything a perfect score, as I think there are always ways that something could be made better. I'm hard pressed to think what they could be with the Zygon Invasion/Inversion, however. Still, I'll stick to my guns and simply give this story a 9.5 out of 10 and say that, if anyone needs recommendation of which episodes to watch to get into Doctor Who, my first suggestion will be these two.
Now, with the conclusion of part two of that story I am even happier that I made the decision to write about it. This story rates, in my opinion, as one of the greatest Doctor Who stories of the new era. There was no letting up of the tension and suspense in the second episode. As soon as it started, it felt like we hadn't been away for a week, we were pulled right back into the story and I was immediately re-engaged.
So, before I get on to the good parts of this episode, and the story as a whole, let's eliminate the one weak point (which I don't think was even all that weak). It was no surprise that Kate Stewart was pretending to be Zygon-Kate. It was blatantly obvious, otherwise she simply wouldn't have come back to Zygon HQ. To be honest, though, I really didn't care that this particular sub-plot didn't work. In fact I really think it worked better this way because it didn't detract from the overall story. And the way that it was resolved on-screen was pretty bloody excellent, too. Kate's no nonsense answer of "Five rounds, rapid" was exactly what I would expect from her and her delivery seemed to eerily channel her father, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, once played by the delightful Nicholas Courtney (rest in peace, Sir).
So, in hindsight, the weak point was even that. It was simply a predictability in a story that was anything but predictable.
As for the accolades... where does one begin?
Kate was, in spite of what I said above, was great and Jemma Redgrave deserves a rousing applause for her role. The return of Osgood felt by no means contrived. The story lent itself beautifully to her return and having a bit more focus on her character was a great addition.
Peter Capaldi was, as usual, brilliant. I enjoyed the fact that the Doctor, for once, wasn't telegraphed as being constantly ahead of the game. It really felt like, though he had a plan and was confident in it, the end could have swung either way. Previous stories have been made out like the end was a foregone conclusion and that can detract from what would otherwise be a great story. Not this time, though. This time the Doctor had to work to get the story to end well and, wow, did he work. The Doctor's speech at the pivotal point of the story was outstanding. Peter Capaldi's delivery was right on the mark; his anger, his sadness, his frustration - all bubbling to the surface at once and creating such a palpable sense of his pain and anguish... it was the best delivered speech in Doctor Who that I can remember. The nods and references to the Time War and to the Day of the Doctor were subtly and cleverly written in. None of this ham-fisted, jarring insertion of references to look clever. They were written and delivered in such a way that they felt completely natural and heart-felt. It was outstanding drama.
And on that point... the writing! The first offering by Peter Harness, Kill the Moon, didn't leave a lasting impression with me. It wasn't a bad episode, by any means, it just wasn't, in my opinion, a good one. It sat somewhere in the middle. But with his Zygon escapade, Peter Harness has not only put his stamp on Doctor Who, he has set the bar on writing a great story. Season 9 has been remarkably good so far but Harness' Zygon story leaves all the others in it's wake. This will quickly become one of the absolute classics of the new Doctor Who era, and deservedly so.
Did everyone catch Harness' references to the classic Who story Terror of the Zygons and the more subtle reference to Harry Sullivan, a companion of the fourth Doctor? The revelation that the Osgood boxes were empty wasn't too much of a surprise but a very clever way, regardless, to reveal who was willing to play the game and who would see the world burn to protect their way. The "today everybody lives" conclusion (without needing to actually say it) was refreshing and highly reminiscent of many great classic Who stories.
The Director, Daniel Nettheim, also deserves mention here for maintaining a great steady pace and atmosphere. Character direction was superb and his attention to lighting and location helped this story a winner.
The absolute stand-out performance to me, though, was Jenna Coleman's. Her portrayal of both Clara and Bonnie was brilliant. I never imagined that she could make Clara/Bonnie so beautifully bad! I simply can't pinpoint any specifics here because, in my opinion, her entire performance was flawless. I firmly believe that Jenna Coleman deserves a supporting actor award for her role in this story. Clara's character has really come into her own as Capaldi's companion and it's both a shame and great that we're seeing the very best of her on the eve of her departure. Despite the Clara haters out there, I believe Jenna Coleman will leave some rather large shoes to fill.
I've never given anything a perfect score, as I think there are always ways that something could be made better. I'm hard pressed to think what they could be with the Zygon Invasion/Inversion, however. Still, I'll stick to my guns and simply give this story a 9.5 out of 10 and say that, if anyone needs recommendation of which episodes to watch to get into Doctor Who, my first suggestion will be these two.
Thursday 5 November 2015
Doctor Who: The Zygon Surprise - Part One
Before I say anything else, the post below contains spoilers (lots of them) for The Zygon Invasion. If you haven't seen it I recommend you stop reading now and go watch it.
You still here? Ok, I'll be honest and say I really wasn't expecting much from this first-parter. Actually, I really wasn't looking forward to it at all.
The Zygons have just never really had that kind of impact for me. Of course, 1975's Terror of the Zygons was a good story but in The Day of the Doctor I just felt they were... kind of average. The story involving the Zygons was kind of weak, in my opinion, and there were issues I had with their story and the resolution. The "decision moment" between the two Kate Stewarts towards the end was the highlight of the Zygon part of that episode for me. The rest was mediocre.
So when I heard that we were getting a two part story involving on the Zygons I felt a bit of a gnawing at my stomach. Season 9 has been blisteringly good to date, I think, and I really didn't want to see a story that would detract from that right in the middle of the season.
I'm very happy to say, I couldn't have been more wrong.
The Zygon Invasion was, on its own merits a masterpiece of tension, suspicion and intrigue. The Zygons, themselves, were menacing and actually scary. Part of that fear came from not knowing who you could actually trust. There were moments that had me scratching my head a little. These were the soldiers who just walked into the church after a little persuading from the (obviously)_ Zygon duplicates. The second was Kate Stewart, the head of UNIT, walking into Zygon occupied Truth & Consequence on her own. The first can be explained away satisfactorily but that second point... never, ever would the head of a para-military organisation like UNIT be allowed to march into a potentially hostile region with just a sidearm. No way.
That aside, and they are perhaps just nit-picky points, the rest of the episode was spectacular. The Sheriff in Truth & Consequences was kind of obvious as a Zygon plant but the obviousness of that didn't detract from the encounter. They played that out well enough to leave just the tiniest smidge of doubt, enough to make you go, "Yes! I picked it" when the truth was revealed.
The one that really got me was Clara.
Some of you will, no doubt, have picked up on her replacement but not me. I was totally shocked to see Clara in the Zygon pod. Looking back, there are signs, subtle ones perhaps, but they're there. But they're subtle enough to fool the likes of me. It was a surprise and it was brilliantly played out. Now, am I the only one who thinks Clara plays a magnificent "bad guy"? This is something that we've never seen of her character before and Jenna Coleman played it brilliantly. I'm really going to miss Clara.
It was good to see Osgood back too and they handled her return, post-death by Missy, just as I expected they would. Her being there felt seamless and natural. The Osgood Box has me a little perplexed by I have no doubt we'll see some resolution to that in the next episode.
Speaking of... I harbour a dreadful fear that the next episode will let down the first. This may just be a remnant of my initial misgivings but the name... "The Zygon Inversion"... conjures thoughts of a resolution to the whole story that involves a horrible deus-ex-machina "switching" of Zygon and Human counterparts. I sincerely hope I'm wrong. I want to see the second part be every bit as dark and tense as "Invasion" was.
Time will tell but, for now, I'm still basking in the awesomeness that was "The Zygon Invasion".
You still here? Ok, I'll be honest and say I really wasn't expecting much from this first-parter. Actually, I really wasn't looking forward to it at all.
The Zygons have just never really had that kind of impact for me. Of course, 1975's Terror of the Zygons was a good story but in The Day of the Doctor I just felt they were... kind of average. The story involving the Zygons was kind of weak, in my opinion, and there were issues I had with their story and the resolution. The "decision moment" between the two Kate Stewarts towards the end was the highlight of the Zygon part of that episode for me. The rest was mediocre.
So when I heard that we were getting a two part story involving on the Zygons I felt a bit of a gnawing at my stomach. Season 9 has been blisteringly good to date, I think, and I really didn't want to see a story that would detract from that right in the middle of the season.
I'm very happy to say, I couldn't have been more wrong.
The Zygon Invasion was, on its own merits a masterpiece of tension, suspicion and intrigue. The Zygons, themselves, were menacing and actually scary. Part of that fear came from not knowing who you could actually trust. There were moments that had me scratching my head a little. These were the soldiers who just walked into the church after a little persuading from the (obviously)_ Zygon duplicates. The second was Kate Stewart, the head of UNIT, walking into Zygon occupied Truth & Consequence on her own. The first can be explained away satisfactorily but that second point... never, ever would the head of a para-military organisation like UNIT be allowed to march into a potentially hostile region with just a sidearm. No way.
That aside, and they are perhaps just nit-picky points, the rest of the episode was spectacular. The Sheriff in Truth & Consequences was kind of obvious as a Zygon plant but the obviousness of that didn't detract from the encounter. They played that out well enough to leave just the tiniest smidge of doubt, enough to make you go, "Yes! I picked it" when the truth was revealed.
The one that really got me was Clara.
Some of you will, no doubt, have picked up on her replacement but not me. I was totally shocked to see Clara in the Zygon pod. Looking back, there are signs, subtle ones perhaps, but they're there. But they're subtle enough to fool the likes of me. It was a surprise and it was brilliantly played out. Now, am I the only one who thinks Clara plays a magnificent "bad guy"? This is something that we've never seen of her character before and Jenna Coleman played it brilliantly. I'm really going to miss Clara.
It was good to see Osgood back too and they handled her return, post-death by Missy, just as I expected they would. Her being there felt seamless and natural. The Osgood Box has me a little perplexed by I have no doubt we'll see some resolution to that in the next episode.
Speaking of... I harbour a dreadful fear that the next episode will let down the first. This may just be a remnant of my initial misgivings but the name... "The Zygon Inversion"... conjures thoughts of a resolution to the whole story that involves a horrible deus-ex-machina "switching" of Zygon and Human counterparts. I sincerely hope I'm wrong. I want to see the second part be every bit as dark and tense as "Invasion" was.
Time will tell but, for now, I'm still basking in the awesomeness that was "The Zygon Invasion".
Monday 12 October 2015
Thoughts: Broken Code
In my day job people might say I work with computers. In reality I work with software so working with computers is simply a natural by-product of that. I do know my way around a computer but my strength lies in understanding software, what it should do and, when it's not doing what it should, why it's not working properly. That's part of my role as a Business Analyst. As such, I have a good understanding of "broken code", programming routines and sub-routines that have not been written correctly. I'm pretty good at working out these problems, if I do say so myself.
In my night and weekend job I'm a dad of 4 to 6 kids (we have shared custody of two of the children). It can be tough being a father to so many kids. It can also be remarkably rewarding. However, in my "non-day" job I've found that I'm also working with broken code. We have a daughter who suffers from mental illness.
Now, just to be clear, I'm not writing this to elicit responses of what a great or terrible dad I am. I want neither commendation nor condemnation. I'm simply writing this as a cathartic measure and because, maybe, someone in a similar situation might happen upon it and be able to relate to this. Perhaps it'll bring them comfort to know that their family is not the only one going through this. I don't know, but I hope so.
Miss 8 has a beautiful soul. She loves to draw, she loves to dance and sing, she, of course, loves to play with her siblings and to laugh. She is perfect in every way (as are all our children, in my opinion) with the exception that she is a victim of broken code. Initially the diagnosis was of ADHD, but the Marinoto team that we are working with have since withdrawn that and are, it seems, struggling to put a "label" to our daughters condition. While they ponder and ruminate and talk ad nauseam of feelings and rainbows (yes, I'm a little disillusioned with Marinoto) we continue the daily struggle against the results of Miss 8's broken code.
Let me paint you a brief picture, which hardly does the situation justice, of a typical day. There's (any combination of) the tantrums, the shouting, the swearing, the lying, the stealing, the damage and the very rare outburst of violence. There's the outright refusal to do anything that she's told until, at a loss for any more patience, we raise our voices, shouting at her to get on with [insert thing here]. Back when I was a child, Miss 8 would simply have been called "willfiul" or "naughty" and dealt with appropriately (who remembers the wooden spoon?), but today we understand that there are underlying causes for this behaviour.
We, as parents, do our absolute best to deal with each incident as it arises, trying to remain calm and talk the situation through. There are still consequences, there has to be, but we try to temper those with a lesson in how not to suffer these consequences again. Unfortunately neither of us are super-human and, as with any undesirable, repetitive behaviour our patience has a point where it simply runs out. Mine has a tendency to drain away first. I've never considered myself an angry man. I'm pretty passive about most things but, just like everyone else, I have buttons that, when pushed, cast a red veil over my vision and Mr Shouty comes out.
Tempers flare, harsh words are spoken in raised voices. Punishments are meted out with impunity. All for naught because we know that come tomorrow, or even later that same day at times, we'll be travelling this road again. There are almost always tears from Miss 8 and, through them, I can see the confusion in her eyes. It's not confusion over why she is being yelled at or punished, she's knows exactly why. It's confusion over not knowing why she continues to do the things she does. Being someone who has never dealt directly with mental illness I find it extremely difficult to understand how she actually doesn't know why she does the things she does. I have no frame of reference for this. There's no educational knowledge filed away in my own brain. It's one of the most frustrating things I've ever dealt with.
Yet I know this isn't the girl, this is the broken code sending ideas, thought processes and rationality out the window. There's no thought of consequence until after a thing is done, and then the lying begins because the realisation dawns that she's done wrong and is about to get into trouble. That merely exacerbates the problem and a big snowball effect kicks off.
I don't want to blame her because I know there's a lack of control there but we, all of us, have an innate sense that justice must be done. If someone has been wronged, if there is a victim, there must be a perpetrator and that perpetrator must be held accountable for their actions. That's how society works but is that societal mechanic really fair on the likes of Miss 8 who don't understand the impulses that their brain is sending out? Well, that's a topic for an entire post on its own. Let's get back on track...
I love all our kids and I always will, regardless of what they do and where they go in life. Miss 8 is no exception. However, anyone who is a step-parent and also has children of their own will admit that the connection is different. It's subtle, but is certainly different. For example, Master 10 is my step-son. I love that little goober to bits, as much as I love my own Miss 11 or Miss 9 (or Masters 2 and 5 months, for that matter) but the love, while strong and real, has a slightly different colour. It's not that the love for the one is less than the love for any other, it's simply that, for your genetic children, those that you have helped raise since new born babies, those you've watched grow and develop and become little people there is history and that's the fundamental difference. There is an indestructible silver thread connecting them to you that stretches back to the day they first entered the world, whereas, the same thread that connects you to step-children is only as long as the time they've been in your life. That sounds very wishy-washy and hippy-ish, I know, but it's true... or maybe that's just me.
Either way, I would do anything for these kids I call mine and that connection to my step-kids is, I believe, made better due to the fact that their biological father is not on the scene. As far as dad's go, I'm it for better or worse. However, when you take that slightly different coloured connection, that lack of history, and you throw in mental illness the love equation becomes a lot harder to solve. I do not mean to imply here that my love for Miss 8 is weaker than the others, it's simply harder to reconcile the love that I do feel with the anger that I also feel and with the frustration, the despair, the longing for a solution to this daily crisis that we find ourselves in.
I know that she loves me. The occasional picture, the beautifully heart-felt gift of a "Great Dad" coffee cup, the hugs and the smiles all tell me this. But I also know that our relationship is rocky. I believe that, at times, she really wonders if I love her. I do my best to tell her and, when I can (or I'm not angry) to show her, but I also know I do need to make more of an effort to reassure her. This is where that reconciling of the love with the anger gets in the way. Like I said, I've never had to deal directly with mental illness of this nature before. Every day is, I hope, a learning experience for me. Perhaps for Miss 8 too. I need to find my patience reserves. I need to make sure they are replenished daily. How? Buggered if I know right now, but that's part of my challenge.
I deal with broken code every day. If I can't fix a problem I find a way to work around it. I should be able to - no, I need to be able to find a way to put those skills into practice at home. I don't like the person that comes out when I get angry and I know none of my family do either. Miss 8 doesn't understand, fully, what she's going through so I need to be the understanding one for her. If I can't what kind of dad can I be to her?
There isn't an end in sight for this. There isn't a miracle cure that will fix Miss 8's broken code. Putting a label to it won't make it go away, won't even make it any better. If the problem can't be fixed then adapt to the problem. I want my relationship with Miss 8 to be as good as with all the other kids. In the end only I can make that happen, not for me, but for Miss 8.
That's my challenge. That's my journey.
In my night and weekend job I'm a dad of 4 to 6 kids (we have shared custody of two of the children). It can be tough being a father to so many kids. It can also be remarkably rewarding. However, in my "non-day" job I've found that I'm also working with broken code. We have a daughter who suffers from mental illness.
Now, just to be clear, I'm not writing this to elicit responses of what a great or terrible dad I am. I want neither commendation nor condemnation. I'm simply writing this as a cathartic measure and because, maybe, someone in a similar situation might happen upon it and be able to relate to this. Perhaps it'll bring them comfort to know that their family is not the only one going through this. I don't know, but I hope so.
Miss 8 has a beautiful soul. She loves to draw, she loves to dance and sing, she, of course, loves to play with her siblings and to laugh. She is perfect in every way (as are all our children, in my opinion) with the exception that she is a victim of broken code. Initially the diagnosis was of ADHD, but the Marinoto team that we are working with have since withdrawn that and are, it seems, struggling to put a "label" to our daughters condition. While they ponder and ruminate and talk ad nauseam of feelings and rainbows (yes, I'm a little disillusioned with Marinoto) we continue the daily struggle against the results of Miss 8's broken code.
Let me paint you a brief picture, which hardly does the situation justice, of a typical day. There's (any combination of) the tantrums, the shouting, the swearing, the lying, the stealing, the damage and the very rare outburst of violence. There's the outright refusal to do anything that she's told until, at a loss for any more patience, we raise our voices, shouting at her to get on with [insert thing here]. Back when I was a child, Miss 8 would simply have been called "willfiul" or "naughty" and dealt with appropriately (who remembers the wooden spoon?), but today we understand that there are underlying causes for this behaviour.
We, as parents, do our absolute best to deal with each incident as it arises, trying to remain calm and talk the situation through. There are still consequences, there has to be, but we try to temper those with a lesson in how not to suffer these consequences again. Unfortunately neither of us are super-human and, as with any undesirable, repetitive behaviour our patience has a point where it simply runs out. Mine has a tendency to drain away first. I've never considered myself an angry man. I'm pretty passive about most things but, just like everyone else, I have buttons that, when pushed, cast a red veil over my vision and Mr Shouty comes out.
Tempers flare, harsh words are spoken in raised voices. Punishments are meted out with impunity. All for naught because we know that come tomorrow, or even later that same day at times, we'll be travelling this road again. There are almost always tears from Miss 8 and, through them, I can see the confusion in her eyes. It's not confusion over why she is being yelled at or punished, she's knows exactly why. It's confusion over not knowing why she continues to do the things she does. Being someone who has never dealt directly with mental illness I find it extremely difficult to understand how she actually doesn't know why she does the things she does. I have no frame of reference for this. There's no educational knowledge filed away in my own brain. It's one of the most frustrating things I've ever dealt with.
Yet I know this isn't the girl, this is the broken code sending ideas, thought processes and rationality out the window. There's no thought of consequence until after a thing is done, and then the lying begins because the realisation dawns that she's done wrong and is about to get into trouble. That merely exacerbates the problem and a big snowball effect kicks off.
I don't want to blame her because I know there's a lack of control there but we, all of us, have an innate sense that justice must be done. If someone has been wronged, if there is a victim, there must be a perpetrator and that perpetrator must be held accountable for their actions. That's how society works but is that societal mechanic really fair on the likes of Miss 8 who don't understand the impulses that their brain is sending out? Well, that's a topic for an entire post on its own. Let's get back on track...
I love all our kids and I always will, regardless of what they do and where they go in life. Miss 8 is no exception. However, anyone who is a step-parent and also has children of their own will admit that the connection is different. It's subtle, but is certainly different. For example, Master 10 is my step-son. I love that little goober to bits, as much as I love my own Miss 11 or Miss 9 (or Masters 2 and 5 months, for that matter) but the love, while strong and real, has a slightly different colour. It's not that the love for the one is less than the love for any other, it's simply that, for your genetic children, those that you have helped raise since new born babies, those you've watched grow and develop and become little people there is history and that's the fundamental difference. There is an indestructible silver thread connecting them to you that stretches back to the day they first entered the world, whereas, the same thread that connects you to step-children is only as long as the time they've been in your life. That sounds very wishy-washy and hippy-ish, I know, but it's true... or maybe that's just me.
Either way, I would do anything for these kids I call mine and that connection to my step-kids is, I believe, made better due to the fact that their biological father is not on the scene. As far as dad's go, I'm it for better or worse. However, when you take that slightly different coloured connection, that lack of history, and you throw in mental illness the love equation becomes a lot harder to solve. I do not mean to imply here that my love for Miss 8 is weaker than the others, it's simply harder to reconcile the love that I do feel with the anger that I also feel and with the frustration, the despair, the longing for a solution to this daily crisis that we find ourselves in.
I know that she loves me. The occasional picture, the beautifully heart-felt gift of a "Great Dad" coffee cup, the hugs and the smiles all tell me this. But I also know that our relationship is rocky. I believe that, at times, she really wonders if I love her. I do my best to tell her and, when I can (or I'm not angry) to show her, but I also know I do need to make more of an effort to reassure her. This is where that reconciling of the love with the anger gets in the way. Like I said, I've never had to deal directly with mental illness of this nature before. Every day is, I hope, a learning experience for me. Perhaps for Miss 8 too. I need to find my patience reserves. I need to make sure they are replenished daily. How? Buggered if I know right now, but that's part of my challenge.
I deal with broken code every day. If I can't fix a problem I find a way to work around it. I should be able to - no, I need to be able to find a way to put those skills into practice at home. I don't like the person that comes out when I get angry and I know none of my family do either. Miss 8 doesn't understand, fully, what she's going through so I need to be the understanding one for her. If I can't what kind of dad can I be to her?
There isn't an end in sight for this. There isn't a miracle cure that will fix Miss 8's broken code. Putting a label to it won't make it go away, won't even make it any better. If the problem can't be fixed then adapt to the problem. I want my relationship with Miss 8 to be as good as with all the other kids. In the end only I can make that happen, not for me, but for Miss 8.
That's my challenge. That's my journey.
Sunday 11 October 2015
Thoughts: What am I afraid of?
It's strange how life sometimes throws up themes at you. These consistent questions or reminders that seem to stay with us for a time until we either resolve the underlying problem or the universe just gives up on trying to teach us a lesson.
The thematic stream in my life right now seems to be, "What are you afraid of?" Good Lord, the list goes on and on. I could start by simply saying spiders, but that's such a 'surface' fear that it practically makes a mockery of the question. So let's look deeper... let's try to dig our way through the morass of paranoia and psychoses...deep down to the real core of our fears. There's one thing lurking there, but it's a thing of many different faces. It's the fear of failure.
You may ask, how can failure have many different faces? You either fail or succeed. That's true... to an extent but failure can have many different flavours, psychologically. There is the obvious: I've failed to complete a task, I've failed to do my job successfully. These failure fears are relatively easy to overcome and are comparatively small in nature when measured against other failure fears.
The others I speak of are things like the fear of leaving your job to pursue something completely different. Something so utterly outside of one's frame of reference that you simply cannot imagine how you might succeed in it. Hence you fear nothing but failure from undertaking this. I have recently had such a proposition put to me and I truly do not know which way to turn. It's fair to say I'm quite disillusioned with my current job. I would like to find something new, something to re-ignite the excitement of doing a job well. I don't wish to sound egotistical but I'm very good at my job. I know that many people appreciate what I do to help them but there are also a lot of people who just seem, whether they do it consciously or not, to have a lack of understanding and appreciation for what I do.
So I do want a change, but to this? I feel.... vastly unqualified... unworthy even and, if I'm being truly honest, extremely self-conscious about what others will say and/or think. I know what some would say; Who cares what others think as long as you're happy. But we do, don't we? We do care what some people think. We like to feel respected. We like to believe that people don't think us weird or a freak or worse... a blindly self-righteous fool. And surely the people who might think that are not worth having in our lives but these people are friends. We have a connection, we enjoy them and their company. After all, there's a reason that they became our friends in the first place, right?
Well, people change. Life changes us. I'm certainly not the same man I was 10, even 5 years ago. If I can change so dramatically then so can these friends. What if the change is so great that we simply have lost that connection that we once shared? Hmmm, failure. The failure to maintain a friendship. The failure to understand this person that you've known for so long. Maybe, without even embarking on this change in my life that has been proposed, just maybe that change between people who were once my friends and me has already taken place? Or would take place anyway? Should I put my entire life on hold merely to find out?
Of course not. What a waste of time that would be. But still, that fear lurks deeply in me and slowly eats away at my confidence and, in so doing, affects my sense of self-worth. I don't believe I'm good enough to achieve what has been placed before me. My fear of failure has broken my spirit before I've even given myself a chance to find out. It's like I'm David facing my own personal Goliath but whereas David confidently stepped up and hurled his stone, felling the giant before him, I don't even trust that I could load the stone right.
I cower in the shadow of this Goliath; this fear of failure - this fear of letting others down, for that is another face of failure. I'm so utterly terrified that I cannot turn and fight, nor can I run away. I am paralysed and so I simply stand there staring at the giant constantly questioning without ever making any progress. Does this inability to confront my fear, to try to put it aside, justify my feelings? If I'm not prepared to make a decision on this, should the decision not be given to me to make? That way I cannot fail for there's nothing to fail at. But then I've simply created a new problem.
Am I content to go through life in my safe, comfortable little bubble? Never trying anything, never taking a risk simply so that I know I can never fail? All I've done is place another Goliath in front of the original one. I've doubled the barriers that I have to work through and that's stupid. That's no way to live. But it's So. Damn. Hard. for me to not think this way.
This is what I'm afraid of. Damn you, Goliath.
The thematic stream in my life right now seems to be, "What are you afraid of?" Good Lord, the list goes on and on. I could start by simply saying spiders, but that's such a 'surface' fear that it practically makes a mockery of the question. So let's look deeper... let's try to dig our way through the morass of paranoia and psychoses...deep down to the real core of our fears. There's one thing lurking there, but it's a thing of many different faces. It's the fear of failure.
You may ask, how can failure have many different faces? You either fail or succeed. That's true... to an extent but failure can have many different flavours, psychologically. There is the obvious: I've failed to complete a task, I've failed to do my job successfully. These failure fears are relatively easy to overcome and are comparatively small in nature when measured against other failure fears.
The others I speak of are things like the fear of leaving your job to pursue something completely different. Something so utterly outside of one's frame of reference that you simply cannot imagine how you might succeed in it. Hence you fear nothing but failure from undertaking this. I have recently had such a proposition put to me and I truly do not know which way to turn. It's fair to say I'm quite disillusioned with my current job. I would like to find something new, something to re-ignite the excitement of doing a job well. I don't wish to sound egotistical but I'm very good at my job. I know that many people appreciate what I do to help them but there are also a lot of people who just seem, whether they do it consciously or not, to have a lack of understanding and appreciation for what I do.
So I do want a change, but to this? I feel.... vastly unqualified... unworthy even and, if I'm being truly honest, extremely self-conscious about what others will say and/or think. I know what some would say; Who cares what others think as long as you're happy. But we do, don't we? We do care what some people think. We like to feel respected. We like to believe that people don't think us weird or a freak or worse... a blindly self-righteous fool. And surely the people who might think that are not worth having in our lives but these people are friends. We have a connection, we enjoy them and their company. After all, there's a reason that they became our friends in the first place, right?
Well, people change. Life changes us. I'm certainly not the same man I was 10, even 5 years ago. If I can change so dramatically then so can these friends. What if the change is so great that we simply have lost that connection that we once shared? Hmmm, failure. The failure to maintain a friendship. The failure to understand this person that you've known for so long. Maybe, without even embarking on this change in my life that has been proposed, just maybe that change between people who were once my friends and me has already taken place? Or would take place anyway? Should I put my entire life on hold merely to find out?
Of course not. What a waste of time that would be. But still, that fear lurks deeply in me and slowly eats away at my confidence and, in so doing, affects my sense of self-worth. I don't believe I'm good enough to achieve what has been placed before me. My fear of failure has broken my spirit before I've even given myself a chance to find out. It's like I'm David facing my own personal Goliath but whereas David confidently stepped up and hurled his stone, felling the giant before him, I don't even trust that I could load the stone right.
I cower in the shadow of this Goliath; this fear of failure - this fear of letting others down, for that is another face of failure. I'm so utterly terrified that I cannot turn and fight, nor can I run away. I am paralysed and so I simply stand there staring at the giant constantly questioning without ever making any progress. Does this inability to confront my fear, to try to put it aside, justify my feelings? If I'm not prepared to make a decision on this, should the decision not be given to me to make? That way I cannot fail for there's nothing to fail at. But then I've simply created a new problem.
Am I content to go through life in my safe, comfortable little bubble? Never trying anything, never taking a risk simply so that I know I can never fail? All I've done is place another Goliath in front of the original one. I've doubled the barriers that I have to work through and that's stupid. That's no way to live. But it's So. Damn. Hard. for me to not think this way.
This is what I'm afraid of. Damn you, Goliath.
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