I was at our most recent Book Club gathering when the woman next to me said to the group, "Did you hear about that Georgia father who forgot that his child was in the carseat and went to work? The child died. That poor father. What he must be going through." It was a couple of days after Book Club that they arrested and charged the man for allegedly murdering his only child by purposely leaving his toddler in a hot car to die from hyperthermia. Worse yet, the mother may have been complicit in the horrendous crime.
***
My husband's grandmother happily lived well into her nineties with nary a sick day nor any signs of stress, anxiety or depression. She immigrated from a Eurasian country to the USA where she lived on a small remote farm. She never quite got the hang of the English language. As a result she never watched the news nor read a newspaper. She lived in ignorant bliss of the world’s goings on as her family "sugar-coated" the current events for her as they arrived in the newspaper or on the six o’clock TV news show. Am I wrong to be envious of her? Or of the monks and nuns who choose a cloistered life?
I want to be well-informed, up on the latest pop culture, able to discuss current and past events in an intelligent manner at my book club. But I feel, that at least for me, the big contributor to any stress or anxiety in my life comes from watching, reading or listening to the news. It's as if I hold 'be informed' in one open palm and 'be at peace' in the other, carefully weighing each to determine which is the better for me.
the informed me
the blissfully ignorant me
***
I'm waiting in line at Casey's General Store, at 11:30 a.m. one weekday. Bad timing as I find myself surrounded by hungry workers looking for food. Did I ever mention that there are no fast food restaurants anywhere near my home? Anyway, the young man in front of me, probably a worker from the crews repairing the local country roads, asks the cashier, "Where are the Five-Hours?" (-you know, those caffeinated energy drinks that the millennial generation seem to favor?) "Behind you on that shelf to your right," she points to a nearby area. He leaves his place in line and stands staring at the shelf, with that glazed-eyed look males often demonstrate when staring into a refrigerator. Shrugging he walks back empty-handed. She says, "You were right there." He goes back to the same spot and she says, "To your right." He turns a quarter left. "No, the other way." Now he does a 180º turn. "No, go back to where you were. They're right there." He turns to his original spot, puts his arm forth and from there she directs his hand, "Down one shelf. Now, just six inches to right of your right hand." Finally he locates the correct spot and selects a small bottle. The farmer behind me quips, "Better grab two of those, son." We all enjoy a hearty laugh, including the young man, who chortles, "Well, at least I got the extra strength."
As I inch my way up in line, and I mentally debate whether or not I really need this gallon of milk patiently wait, I glance at the papers on the local newsstand. It's there I see the Rockford Register Star headline article: Infant Wasn't South Beloit Mom's First to Die...
How I wish I hadn’t looked down. And now it's a battle within my brain. You'd think I'd know better by now.
Did I learn when I read the newspaper article about some nitwit guy the Chicago police arrested after he completely bound his two-year-old daughter's body in duct tape and then idiotically posted it on FaceBook with the caption, "This is what happens when my baby doesn't listen." For days I tossed and turned, the photo of a duct-taped angel seemingly permanently etched in my memory? No, I didn’t learn. And oh, that poor little girl...
Even at this very moment, I can still visualize the police mugshot of the South Beloit mother on the Rockford Register. And even though I didn't read the article, I can't stop fretting about some poor infant, and I don't even know exactly what happened, except that he or she is dead. And that, yet another parent has willfully harmed or killed their own child. Why? Why? Why-why-why-why-why-why-why?
Yet, there is a part of me that retains some insane child-like curiosity. Why would someone do this? Should I tune in Nancy Grace? Get all of the morbid details? Is it worth a month of sleepless nights? "No," I argue with myself, "it's too much. You've never been good at squelching those negative images and the corresponding pain." And if fact, R, you have a knot in the pit of your stomach right now, just writing this part of the blog.
***
I had a dentist appointment yesterday. The dental group has a state-of-the-art, flat screen television playing in the waiting room. Now, I’m certain that there is some benevolent reason, like this dental group feels it will distract and perhaps even relax the waiting patients. In fact, my physicians’ offices do the same thing. The problem is that the TVs always seemed tuned to those perpetual news programs, like CNN or FoxNews. So of course, at some point I glance up. And I see it: an earthquake has struck the Honshu province of Japan, not terribly far from Fukushima. I feel myself beginning to grind my teeth, bruxism my dentist calls it. She's outfitted me with a mouth guard to wear at night to prevent wear on my teeth. Okay, Dr. A, then please help me out in the daytime by banning news channels from playing in your waiting room. Have pity on sensitive, teeth-gnashing souls such as me.
There are laws that forbid smoking in public spaces. And tobacco is a good analogy here, if you think about it. I mean, if people want to use that stuff and slowly kill themselves, be my guest, but please don't pollute my airways. And while you’re at it, turn off your TVs and don't pollute my brainwaves.
I do pretty well maintaining my life with a minimum of anxiety and stress. So, as I sit in the dentist office I begin to wonder if we humans are somehow hard-wired for stress and anxiety. What are the odds that I pick up an out-dated waiting room copy of Psychology Today with an article that says indeed, we are… "Why We Can't Just Get Rid of Anxiety and Distress." In the article I learn how the anxiety-induced adrenalin surge helped our ancestors when facing saber-toothed tigers and such. I guess I get that, it helps me when my brain says to me: "Quickly get as far away as possible from that guy, who is talking to himself and has his arm inside of a full-length trench coat and sports a stocking cap even though it is 97º and sunny outside."
The article also goes on to say:
...some research... suggests that suppressing thoughts while in a negative mood makes it more likely both the thoughts and the negative mood will reoccur.
So, that's my problem? The squelching? The suppression? ...The hygienist comes to get me before I finish the article. But not before I catch a teaser for an upcoming article:
"Become the CEO of Your Own Brain in Six Easy Steps"
I've been wrestling for control of my brain for 60+ years. Look out, brain, because it looks like very soon, and I mean any minute now, I'll be taking charge. I think the first thing I'll do when I take over is to give myself a million dollar bonus.
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