Monday, May 23, 2016

Ill Communication


Beastie Boys Ill Communication.jpg

Do you remember when you and your brother were kids, and the two of you decided to flush one or two of your smaller toys down the toilet just to see what would happen, only to watch the water slowly rise to the top of a clogged toilet bowl in a growing panic, wondering what to do next, turning around to see your Mom standing in the bathroom doorway with a thin smile on her lips? Communication is like that; effectively done and it's almost like E.S.P. Well, how did you know what we were doin'? And then she'd say, "Because I have eyes in the back of my head", or even creepier, "Well, it was too quiet, so I knew you two were up to 'no good' because you're always so noisy!"

That's how my Bronx-born mama rolled: with eagle-eyed precision and harsh corrections. My parents weren't training us to be alright in your particular corner of the globe. They wanted us to be able to survive in the city and beyond, which means that you have to not die to win and that's not always easy, especially when the people around you are workin' all sorts of cons and scams: in degrees, mind you, but they get there step-by-step just like you do, through deliberate obfuscation, vagueness, and outright lies.

Like my mom, I know when the people in my family are sick, because they stop talking to me completely, as well as everyone else around them. I mean, we get nothing from them, and I can't tell you how disturbing that is, except if you know what I mean because you've lived through it, too. I've have sisters-in-law who have never sent me a card, or a letter, or an email, or an invite, or returned a phone call, and these are supposedly affluent white women who went to the best schools their families could afford. Nothing. You get nothing from them but their neurosis (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neurosis), and maybe some insults, if the wine is freely flowing.

Imagine if I spent all this time writing to you, telling you all about my life through a "ghost writer" (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghostwriter) or an outside editor, because despite my years of education and experience, I still can't communicate what I want to say. That would be such an utter failure to me, I'm not sure I could stand it. I simply don't understand that level of selfishness, or the depth to that inability. How can someone earn a lot of money for houses and cars in multiple, but can't talk to someone as open as me? How can that be successful? 

And before we go on to that, I'm tellin' you that these women have had the same Catholic upbringing that I did, except with way more expensive bells-and-whistles built into their experiences, like fancy parochial school educations from birth. Do you know how much of a selfish, sick, unfeeling, hard person you have to be to watch someone like me and not care enough to help out? Think about it. 

Think about the inaction, ineptitude, incompetence, insensitivity, and utter lack of generosity you have as a physical therapist on the clock only (like my brother's wife), but never when your sick mother-in-law with Multiple Sclerosis needs it, especially between those Medicare "donut holes" in her coverage that occur each and every year? Besides sickness and badness, is there any other explanation for withholding all that your family gave to you for free? Because I've heard every excuse there is too many times to count.

We've been dug into this deep hole as a society, that we find harder and harder to climb out of, because of the gross inequality that comes from the over-acquisition of material goods over the better skill sets that should be part of the healing arts, including excellent communication. If you can't talk about what's wrong, you are it. There isn't any other place to go, or hide. It's you. You are the problem. The problem in your life and in this world is you, so you better start talking. I'd start today, if I were you. Cough it up! Get it out! That's the only way to get rid of it. If you can talk your way into money, you can talk to people about your sickness. Cut the fucking bullshit. It's time.


Your homework: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Communication