Hit Me Up, Homiez!
Write your questions here.
Dr. Ding would love to address your questions, concerns, and/or snide remarks, particularly those of a psychological nature. Also welcome are questions pertaining to metaphysics, popular culture, guilty pleasures, and anything else you would care to see discussed, dissected or pontificated upon in these pages.
Holla back!
| Etsy: QueenBodacious |
Friday Diatribe
Dr. Ding is going to begin working for a franchise of Old Peeps homes within the next couple of weeks. In the course of researching said home(s), the following facts were discovered regarding the various amenities available:
1. Homemade ice cream parlor
2. Beauty salon and barbershop
3. Country store
4. Computer room
5. Gazebo
6. Library
7. 7-passenger mini van
8. Health services
9. Occupational therapy
10. Church services
They also have a state-approved evacuation plan, an emergency on-call system, a backup electrical generator in case of power failure, several lounges, an activity room (shuffleboard! canasta parties!), dining areas, and are within 5 minutes of restaurants, theaters, malls, and sporting events such as horse racing. Sign me up!
Does your apartment complex or current living situation offer even half of these amenties? I mean sure, my complex has the ususal stuff like a pool, a gym, a movie theater and a place to send faxes and check email, but we certainly don’t have a goddamn ice cream parlor or 7-passenger party bus! My god–if this is where I’m going to end up some day, then I want to begin aging as quickly as possible, starting right this second. These oldsters have it going on! I’m going to start smoking American Spirits (less tar, more wrinkles), drinking a cup of bourbon in the morning, and staying up late to fret about work. I think that ought to get me there inside of about 7-10 more years. I can’t wait! My only regret is that I didn’t find out about this sooner.
If you would like to embark on my newfound life mission of retiring to a social paradise of quality ice cream eating, gambling, gazebo-sitting, nonstop partying, and road trips, just let me know, and I’ll get us a spot reserved. Of course, we’re all going to have to work triple overtime every week and probably have a couple-three heart atacks during the next 7-10 years in order to afford all this, but then again, that’s the whole plan anyway! It’s a beautiful thing. Get yourself a good defibrillator and let’s have at it!
Who’s with me?
| Etsy: QueenBodacious |
Grief the Healer
I can’t seem to shake this idea that I’m really messed-up inside. When I was growing up, both my parents were alcoholics. My father used to hit me, and my mother would just yell. I joined the military right out of high school, put myself through college, and now own my own business. I’m really proud that I’ve made a success out of my life. I’m married to a wonderful woman and we have two beautiful children. I thank God every day that I was able to not repeat the mistakes my parents made.
Here’s my problem. My parents both sobered up through rehab and then AA about 5 years ago, but for my father, the damage had been done, and he died last year. I’m glad they decided to stop poisoning themselves through alcohol, and it’s a relief to see my mother so clear-headed. But sometimes when I see her around my kids I get this surge of emotion that’s so strong I have to leave the room. I can’t figure out if I’m jealous or mad or what. I just feel really messed-up and I can’t get a handle on it. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not depressed or anything, and most days I feel great. I’ve found that when that big swell of emotion gets to me that if I go to church or read my Bible it helps a lot. My wife pointed out that this means I’m using religion as a crutch. I don’t know what to think. What do you think about all this?
You’re not messed-up, you’re grieving a childhood you never had. Grief is possibly the most misunderstood human experience, and tidal in its intensity. You describe sudden swells of strong negative feelings that seem to recede for awhile, only to eventually return just as powerful as before. This is how grief often operates, and it can be confusing. It sounds as if you’re linking these upwellings of nameless emotion with visits from your mother (who was emotionally and verbally abusive to you, and who stood idly by while your father physically abused you) which is very insightful.
Seeing your mother interacting happily while sober with your children in the present is driving your grief because it’s the childhood experience you never got to have. The things we didn’t get while growing up—adequate attention, nurturance, support, love, care, affection, etc— are the most difficult to grieve. You thought I was going to say they’re the most difficult to “get over” didn’t you? People often tell themselves that the past is in the past, so they should just get over it/let it be/let go/etc. But because of the way we are biologically and psychologically wired as the complicated and fascinating human creatures that we are, it just ain’t that easy.
Please understand that grieving the past that you didn’t have isn’t a single event; it’s a process, and a healing process at that. On Death and Dying by Elizabeth Kubler Ross is an excellent explanation of the stages of grief and how to move through them without getting stuck. Grief, you see, isn’t bad or abnormal or wrong. It just is. It happens, and it’s supposed to happen, because life is ever-changing and sometimes very difficult and it’s a wonderful built-in mechanism for us to be able to say goodbye to people, things, and experiences of all sorts, both positive and negative.
Giving yourself permission to allow your feelings to flow through you is powerful medicine as you make your way through the process of grieving your childhood, the one you were denied. Grieving with support, however, will let you heal more rapidly. I think your turning to your church or your Bible represents your attempt to do this, and my view is hey—if it works, keep doing it. It’s not a crutch. It sounds as if you’re looking for some meaning and understanding in all of this pain you’re experiencing, and that’s a healthy, functional thing.
One caveat: don’t rush to forgiveness. This prematurely can short-circuit your progress. Think of grief as a wound that must be cleaned out gently but completely, washed clean entirely before it can be sutured and allowed to heal up. If you pray to forgive your parents right now you may be leaving some “dirt” inside the wound that could cause problems, i.e. an incomplete healing experience. Let yourself feel mad, sad, hurt, scared. It’s ok. You’re a human being who gets to have feelings now, and all of these emotions are a part of grief. Back then it wasn’t safe to feel your own emotions—you were too busy surviving. Although life is different now, those feelings you didn’t get to experience back then are still there, needing to be expressed.
I’m not sure if you’ve ever discussed your feelings about your childhood with your mother, and I don’t know if it would be helpful; this is a decision only you can make. I think what would be helpful would be for you do share some of this with a person you trust, whether that’s a therapist, a church leader or simply a valued friend. Groups like Adult Children of Alcoholics or AlAnon are sometimes helpful as well. Please be assured that you’re not messed-up–your childhood certainly was, and you survived it and not only that, you have managed to help create a healthy family of your own without repeating the abusive behaviors of your parents. Doesn’t sound like you’ve been using any crutches to me! You are a resilient, courageous person who happens to be suffering.
One thing to consider: your wife sees your religious activities as problematic. Do you suppose that you are turning away from her even as you turn towards religion? Something to be aware of. You may want to share this article with her to help her understand where you’re coming from.
Since I don’t believe in luck, I wish you success on your journey. Your instincts, miraculously, seem fairly undamaged by such a difficult childhood, and my hope is that you learn to trust them. So begin it today. Be bold! To paraprhase otherwise rather angsty ole Goethe, boldness has genius and daring and magic in it.
| Etsy: QueenBodacious |
Damn, I Look Good!
Friday Diatribe:
Dr. Ding, although a caring, empathic soul, is growing weary of women who, as reflexively as some might sneeze or cough or gently belch (after a meal of bacon sandwiches), denigrate their own appearance and call constant attention to their fat thighs or poochy belly or lunch lady arms. Holy creme brulee, Batman! Yes yes, I know all about the poor body image that some 87% of all American females over the age of 8 are afflicted with, about how we are bombarded by dinner-barfing anorectic supermodels in the media, yadda yadda, size 6, blah blah, womens’ magazines sending mixed messages about yummy delicious recipes and Lose 120 Pounds Just By Developing a Nervous Twitch, impossible body ideals thwarting our collective self-esteem at every turn, boo di freakin hoo.
I am sick of it. I am sick of hearing smart, successful, and otherwise well-adjusted women interrupt a rather nice conversation to bitch about their horrifying waddle or their dock-piling cankles or their enormous, gigantic, MechaFuckingGoddamnZilla ass threatening to devour Tokyo, etc. Mostly they’re not even being this creative, seemingly preferring to highlight their flaws in far more plebian terms.
Oh Gahd, my butt is HUGE! My thighs are like so disgusting.
Can’t stand it! Boring! Fatous! Self-absorbed and mired in dullarding negativity.
Can you imagine the hours, days, years that have been wasted by Womankind fretting about fulminating fannies instead of taking action to say, volunteer at a local animal shelter? Or visit an elderly family member or friend? Or teach a disadvantaged person to read? Or running for a political office? Jaysus! Why not paint a fantastical mural as a kind of paean to assitude? Why not listen to The Gossip’s latest? Why not attend herb gardening classes or learn to speak Italian or star in a community theater production or spend every other Thursday night getting airbrushed palm trees on your fingernails? I mean let’s face it: any of these are far more productive, interesting, self-enhancing uses of time than complaining or obssessing about physical appearance.
Years ago I put myself on a self-denigrating diet. I decided that no matter now many of my friends, associates, and co-conspirators said icky things about their own appearances, that I, By Goddess, was NOT going to indulge in this habit anymore. If people disliked something about my body, so be it–I was no longer going to be shining a big spotlight on my perceived flaws and taking up valuable conversation time by filling it with this kind of nauseating psychological effluvium. I was sick to death of entertaining, fun, or informative discussions with friends turning into some sort of inverted contest about who had the worst cellulite. And so I stopped.
And, unlike most of the bad habits I’ve given up (like smoking Marlboro Menthols, yelling, drinking 2 pots of coffee per day, organized religion, belching loudly in public, ruminating, and worrying excessively about what everyone thinks about me), this one was very easy once the decision was made. By refusing to insult my physical presence, I gained more self-respect for my body. I no longer see it as “this thing” loosely connected to my mind. I live with it and in it, what the ancient Celts called “this Bone House”… it is me and I am it and yet I transcend it.
The body isn’t something to be trundled along and made fun of at intervals. It is a holy place, for it houses the soul, seats the imagination, and carries the spirit.
If you have a bigger-than-average or weirder-than-average or whateverer-than-average body, take heart: some spirits are so large and fantastically-shaped that they need homes big enough and especially-shaped enough to encompass them.
| Etsy: QueenBodacious |













