WebMDave

I used to think that the most potent guilt trips were religious—the kind that weaponize eternal damnation to force compliance and erase individual identity. But lately, a secular gospel has been invading my life. It has its own priesthood, its own holy text (the DSM-5), and a remarkably familiar way of making me feel like the bad guy for simply wanting to protect my own peace. Enter the era of normalized toxicity. Social media spotlights are shining brightly on autism, OCPD, narcissism, and family enmeshment. The new awareness is great, but these vastly different conditions are flattening into a single, untouchable category: “Diagnosed.” People wave divergent banners to excuse behavior. It’s created a bizarre conundrum: Suddenly, expecting people to be accountable for their behavior is considered ableist or heartless. Don’t even consider distancing yourself from the toxicity. That’s abandonment. It’s weird. The Great Confusion: Impact vs. Intent When dealing with the intense ...

And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, Speak to us of Children. And he said: Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself. They come through you but not from you, And though they are with you yet they belong not to you. You may give them your love but not your thoughts, For they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls, For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams. You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday. You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth. The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far. Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness; For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the...

I sometimes describe myself as relationally crippled. When it comes to enjoying social relationships with my fellow creatures, I see myself as pretty much a failure. I usually choose watching others over closely engaging with them.   Since many people tend to overreact after hearing opinions that challenge theirs, I try to sidestep topics that tempt me to play devil's advocate. I yearn for sincere conversations but loath interactions that might devolve into regretful deprecations. I have even less interest in casual chit-chat.  Introverts crave meaning so party chitchat feels like sandpaper to our psyche. ~ Diane Cameron It seems that most of the world is trying to avoid solitude by stimulating every waking moment with noise, crowds and activity. I spend most days alone, but I never feel lonely. I quite like being alone. I enjoy solitude. While in a rare social mood I openly shared some of my introspections. The person I was attempting to engage quickly let me know t...

"Hey Tom, do you hear that?” The music of sleigh bells was unmistakable. “Come on Tom, come over here.” Tom jumped up on my bed and the two of us scanned the scene outside our window desperately trying to focus on what was making that marvelous sound. It was Christmas Eve and those rhythmic bells could be credited to nothing else but Saint Nick’s mythical reindeer. My brother was still a believer and though I was enlightened, I was not about to blow his Christmas. When I was in Kindergarten, one of the kids told me there was no such thing as Santa Claus. He claimed it was only your Dad and Mom who bought you presents and then hid them until you went to sleep on Christmas Eve. With a superior air, I tried to explain to my sneering peer that the night before Christmas my mom always set out cookies and milk for Santa, and in the morning, the plate was always clean except for some telltale crumbs and the glass was always empty. In my mind, this alone was irrefutable proof Santa had r...

I’d never worn glasses, having always enjoyed wonderful 20/20 vision. While others wore sunglasses during the summer months, my face went naked. Glasses had just never been part of my experience. Uncountable numbers of people wear glasses and many of those have worn them all their lives. It is obvious to anyone that a huge industry revolves around the simple expedient of improving an individual’s ability to see clearly. In the 21st Century there is by no means anything strange or unique about wearing magnifiers on the face. However, not me – no, never me - my eyes are perfect. Or rather, my eyes were perfect. Over the course of about three years it became increasingly impossible for me to enjoy reading without squinting, or outright guessing at the words on the page. I began to appreciate and understand why those large print editions at the library existed. Some of those microscopic disclaimers on various products, as well as ingredient labels on food, which I used to read without th...

My wife and I first met in the military in October 1983. I was 25 and a trombonist in the Air Force Band stationed at Maxwell Air Force Base in Montgomery Alabama. My rank was Tech Sergeant (E6) and I was the NCO in charge of the Jazz Ensemble, an 18-piece group consisting of keyboards, guitar, bass guitar, drums, trumpets, trombones, saxophones and a lead singer. Aside from the myriad of military performances we were tasked with, our primary emphasis was actually public affairs concerts in the civilian community. Every month we traveled throughout the southeast part of the U.S. anywhere from New Orleans to Orlando to Knoxville for seven to fourteen days at a time putting on free highly promoted concerts. Once a year we flew north to Canada to perform at the International Air Show in Toronto. It was my job to choose and rehearse the music for our concerts, be the Master of Ceremonies for the group, promote the performances by appearing on television and radio, provide leadership and ...