From My Soap Box

Much to do About Nothing

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  • The confession of a Flying Monkey

    By Fae Lox

    Within the last decade, there’s been a huge tidal wave of traumatized people educating themselves on mental health issues, specifically narcissism. Some indulge more in-depth than others, ranging from base-level videos to technical periodicals. Regardless, all are assisting in the breakdown of something fairly complex and striking.

    Moreover, the more educated one becomes, the more equipped they will be when dealing with difficult personalities. By all means, protect yourself.

    As we take that painful dive into new information, it’s easy to vilify the culprit for an eternity with their sneaky twist-and-turn-like behavior. No one would call hanging them at the stake excessive due to the lasting trauma-induced experiences everyone survived.

    We take it all in, as we patiently wait for our turn to complain at the support group meeting, spouting jargon like narcissistic supply, gaslighting, and so forth. By the way, why aren’t there any support groups for flying monkeys?

    As we identify the bizarre personality type that leads to other complex disorders, we begin to piece together the puzzle. Let’s pause from gathering evidence against our culprit, shall we?

    Let’s consider our own compliance with some of these very naughty manners. There’s always something we could’ve done differently for the sake of honest reflection.

    That’s what makes narcissism such a hard pill to swallow. As you research the disorder, you realize so much about the said villain, while highlighting just as much insight about you. The public gets so comfortable pointing at the bad guy while ducking the mirror when they walk past the sink.

    What about when we knowingly or unknowingly play the supporting role in the sitcom? What about the time we signed up to be extras in the Wizard of Oz with the hot, colorful costumes? We seemed to enjoy playing the little people for at least a little while.

    For those who have yet to familiarize themselves with this jargon, let’s define the term ‘Flying Monkey’. Loosely, they’re described as enablers who assist a manipulative person in their schemes knowingly and sometimes unknowingly.

    Well, that sounds so malevolent. Surely, we wouldn’t help someone hurt someone else. Consider all the late-night ear lending and suggestions we provided without hearing the other person’s side. How about the full-on directions we provided when advising a person to really stick it to the mute subject?

    Consider the dust storm of verbal traffic surrounding the person of discussion, unbeknownst to them, and how that affects their interactions with others. What about how it damages outside parties’ perceptions without knowing the full story?

    Like children on the playground forming alliances with the cool while isolating the outcast. Come to think about it, adulthood seldom leaves the high school cafeteria. Not so innocent, nor are we?

    Often, it’s not intentional, but what does the cliché say? Something about the road to hell was paved with good intentions.

    Not all misunderstandings get cleared up before the commercial break. Painful experiences and mistruths can linger. While we move on, someone has been boxed in by lies, their reputation sieged, possibly leading to arrested development without a proper trial.

    Nonetheless, we have to realize when someone is asking for advice or baiting us into a box of prejudice. Perhaps, we’re asked to take a harmless peek at a social media page or look into a name here or there. When do we consider it group stalking? There go those cute little monkeys again.

    Lastly, when we repeat such one-sided chatter to others, do we see it as accurate or an assumption? Although we all hate being the center of private discussions, especially if it’s not true.

    So, contemplate your role as an unbiased bystander, a so-called friend, the observant yet silent owl, or an accomplice. Remember, similar to recess sports, eventually it will be your turn.

  • The Dark Sayings of the Elderberry Bush

    By

    Fae Lox

    Over time, I’ve noticed ordinary people are inclined to say ironic things for the sake of dramatic effect or cheap humor among an anticipating audience.

    Yet, our words have power. Oftentimes such profound connotations. So, we shouldn’t use them so loosely without considering their darker meanings even in jest.

    For instance, as a youngster, I recall patriarchal figures teasingly say to their perceived disobedient children, in the presence of other adults of course. “I brought you into this world, I’ll take you out!” Depending on the orator, I often couldn’t tell who meant it or not. Looking back, I still can’t.

    Nonetheless, it frightened me as a child to see adults let loose such deep laughter about something that wasn’t funny at all. It’s a strange art to combine humor with death.

    Words have a strange way of returning to your door step. Some may say it’s just a saying. Well, not for me. Let me explain why.

    My grandmother was a young woman with a ballerina figure under five feet. Unfortunately, she married a hefty musician with a football player build. Who thumped up her small frame regularly, even in front of her eight children.

    Sadly, that went on for ages. This continued well after those small children came of age.

    One day the boxing ring was thundering inside the home as usual. Poor Sadie was enduring the misery that landed her at one point in a mental institution.

    Yet this day, the eldest son, now armed with the courage of a young man came to his battered mother’s aid.

    It was said, that when the father saw his son approach, he ordered him to stand down with that old phrase. He said he would take him out of this world if he came up the steps.

    Sadie’s husband stood with his gun cocked and ready to fire as he fixated on his son’s posture. While my uncle with rage fueled by decades of abuse lunged to his death in the blink of an eye.

    What a cruel day it was for my grandmother.

    So yes, these saying are nothing to play with even for the sake of entertainment.

    Rest in Peace Uncle Harmon and Grandma Sadie.

  • A Playful Word from the Wise to the Fat

    A Playful Word from the Wise to the Fat

    By

    Fae Lox

    What seems to be a heavy topic right now? Pun intended, is weight loss. Granted, when hasn’t it been a leading topic? 

    As of late, it’s all about intermediate fasting, weight loss shots, counting carbohydrates, and circuit training, from Pilates to neglected gym memberships to the fear of diabetes and heart attacks; it’s simply overwhelming.

    Along your journey, no matter what you’re doing to change, your results may be underwhelming.

    Possibly, you’re not seeing that big drop you expected when you started, like the infomercial people wearing oversized jeans pulling at their waists.

    Let’s not forget that friend of a friend who apparently dropped a whole person’s worth of weight in five days and lives the best life now.

    By the way, I’ve never actually met this person; I only heard about this mythical creature.

    For some of us, it comes a little slower. Don’t be discouraged. It’s easy not to cherish our little wins, like our one or two pounds down, like we should.

    If I only had one or two dollars in my bank account, I wouldn’t be beaming with pride either.

    Moreover, when thinking of pounds, you can’t focus on the scale number; you must visualize the loss number.

    Say I lost 1 pound. Have you seen a box of butter with four sticks? That’s a pound. Think of a canned good like pork and beans. That’s a tad less than a pound.

     Now throw that at someone’s head in aisle seven and see how much damage you’ll do.

    Likewise, a pint of milk is about a pound. You see, you didn’t lose a dollar bill. You lost a whole can of chili.

    Let’s not argue over dry and wet measures for my cooks. My point remains. Don’t hear the number; picture it. Then, you can appreciate your success, no matter how big or small.

    Some of us who reach greater feats develop impostor syndrome. We discredit how much smaller we’ve gotten due to perception.

    I have a 13-pound bag of cat food that gives me a run for my money every time I pick it up. Picture that enormous bag of kitty litter in my closet.

    Yep. That’s how much of you that is no longer there. So, stay encouraged and keep up the good work.