Two Photos: Same Person.

                                          The Author as a child. Circa 1984. Photo by Olan Mills 

                                                     The Author now-- photographed a couple days ago by her spouse,                                           Brian. 

                 I received a compliment from someone on Sunday that has given me much " food for thought". For context, Brian and I visited  our former parish on Sunday--the rector has accepted a call to a new church & Sunday was the only day we could get out to wish him well.  Anyway, we were there a bit early and took the opportunity to chat with some people whom we had not seen since before the pandemic/ Three Mile Bridge disaster. 

    While chatting with a older woman whom I've known for years-- she commented You really have changed a lot. " 

   She is correct. 

   Interestingly, when Brian and I were at my parents' house yesterday afternoon, a studio photo of myself caught my attention. The photo-- taken by Olen Mills { remember them, Gen X peeps??} shows a genuinely HAPPY little girl with long blondish hair, smiling eyes and a gap-toothed grin that reached her blue eyes. 

  This photo struck me because I have become an adult version of that free-spirited, confident, happy child.  Over 30 years have passed since I sat for that photo, but I see a lot of similarities in the faces of a recent photo of me and that decades-old portrait. 

  My eyes are open and wide. My smile { with teeth straightened by the wonders of orthodontics } is full and genuine. In both photos , I am confident and happy. 

 So much history has happened between the 1984 portrait of me and the photo from Saturday's party.  I left the area where I'd grown up 22 years ago-- and while this ended up being the best choice in my life it wasn't easy. As a matter of fact a lot of very slow growth occurred until i met Brian. 

  Brian and I moved once county over to Pensacola almost exactly four years ago. The most recent four years have been the best years of my life. Yes-- in spite of the chaos that was Year 2020-- I continued to grow towards wholeness & health. As much as Pandemic Life sucked, I discovered much about myself and my values.  Additionally, the relationships that I have with " my people" == communities where I am  celebrated  rather than merely tolerated heal a lot of old wounds. 

  Pandemic Life forced me to re-evaluate a lot of the messages that I received from people.  It also tested my mettle , much like the physical /mental trauma of two spinal surgeries at age 12. 

  I turned 45 in May and am healthy & happy like  8-year-old Sarah.  But I've grown into a woman. 

  Amen. 

  Sarah McCarren 
 

#FreeBritney Our Bodies, Our Voices, Ourselves

                                         The Pensacola Hippie at age 45-- halfway to age 90. Healthy, happy, confident. Found her "voice" due to her spouse, her parents & amazing Pensacola faith & activism communities. Owning all of herself & blessed beyond measure. Photo by Brian. 

                Regarding the drama surrounding Britney Spears' case to win back her independence from her appointed " guardian", I have a confession to make. I've never been a Britney fan.  As a matter of fact, I scoffed at her " baby" and " schoolgirl" personas: wishing that she would not capitalize on the twisted, patriarchal ideas of what it means to be a young woman. I found myself drawn to Ani Difranco's sultry lower voice and politically-charged original lyrics rather than Britney's canned and bouncy " pop songs". 

               However, knowing what has come to the surface regarding the pop star and her messed-up legal arrangement with her father, I have compassion for Ms Spears. Women are so often kept submissive, and " cheapened" in the name of money and appeasing the patriarchy. While { Thank God} most of us do not have fathers such as Jamie Spears-- society tells women and men that " good girls" remain soft, silent & submissive. 

                         In spite of the fact that I have wonderful parents who let me take the lead as a writer, artist, photographer & activist--- the toxic femininity that trapped Britney Spears & held her career hostage grazed my life. 

                     Ani Difranco says it so well in her song _Not A Pretty Girl_ Check it out: 

"I am not a pretty girl

That is not what I do
I ain't no damsel in distress
And I don't need to be rescuedifranco
So put me down, punk
Wouldn't you prefer a maiden fair?
Isn't there a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere?"

Difranco knew from an early age what she wanted to do-- and the sorts of songs she wished to write and perform According to her autobiography _No Walls & the Recurring Dream_ Difranco did her best to avoid the trappings of mainstream music. 

 In her book, she explains the choice she made to shave her head at the beginning of her career. Difranco writes " My decision as a young woman to shave off all my hair and wear army boots as footwear was an insistence that the objectifying of women in the people's revolution shall stop with me. {DiFranco , page 77}

Unlike Spears, Ms Difranco set the tone for her creative life immediately. 

In retrospect, it was not only Spears' sound that made me want to stuff my ears with cotton, it was also her persona. For me, they way she presented herself onstage & in public infuriated my feminist sensibilities.  Now I know that it was not her choice, her " creativity" was stuffed into an ill-fitting box  of toxic femininity. Perhaps Spears' shaving of her  hair was not due to a mental breakdown-- perhaps it was a statement. 

 Britney Spears, like all of us, wants to be seen as a person. Her fame came at a high price , & my heart aches for her.  Her fame came at a tender age, and she was turned into a commodity before she had a chance to explore life away from Mom and Dad. She lacks that young adult phase that many of us enjoy where we figure out who we are and what our values will be as adults. 

For Britney Spears-- her entire existence was a show. I am shocked and saddened to learn that Spears was prohibited from singing in her natural alto range. Her handlers literally controlled her voice. As someone who has sang in choirs-- I cannot imagine the amount of damage that vocal abuse has done to her throat. I am a mezzo-soprano-- and singing out of my range stresses my vocal cords, so I cannot imagine the discomfort and physical stress she felt. 

Free Britney. 

We all have a right to self-determination. 

Sarah McCarren

" Post Pandemic Brain" is a real thing....

                                             Grateful that hugging is safe again--- for most of us. 

I've been trying to put a description to the seemingly indescribable emotional/physical symptoms I've had since the slow re-opening of the world is happening. 

It is joy-- but a joy that is grouped in with some sadness, distrust, frustration & even some survivor's guilt. None of us are the people we were before this pandemic hit.  kBut for we who suffer from mental health issues-- " Post Pandemic Brain" hits us harder. 

I put on a happy face when I see folks I love-- after all no one wants a " Debbie Downer" right now. But to be honest, most day it takes an insane amount of energy to wake up in the morning & resist the urge to sleep all day. 

According to an article written by Dana G Smith :

" It should come as no surprise that a year of stress, loneliness, fear, and trauma has affected our mental well-being. But has it also affected our brains? Do the increases in psychiatric symptoms correspond to real physiological changes within our 86 billion neurons?"

I am not a brain scientist, but my guess us a sure YES! As much as I hate to admit it-- even to myself-- I am always looking for the next bad thing to happen. From my spouse's cancer diagnosis two years ago to the horrible event of January 6, 2021 , I've had to pivot my mind to adjust to strange , new circumstances. 

Our slow return to in-person life has me pivoting again to the question " what IS our normal now?" 

As a result, one of the " normal" parts of life that has become hard for me is choices regarding what to wear when I volunteer at a summer youth program.  After over a year of dressing mainly in " comfies'  and NOT having to interact with people on weekdays, I am out of practice for " professional" dressing. Many of the nicer clothes  in my closet have not been worn in over a year-- and I find myself overwhelmed when I need to pick out clothes to wear.  I understand -- and I am grateful to own so many clothes-- but gratitude does not cancel out the anxiety I feel. 

It is good to know I am not alone in my Post Pandemic Brain symptoms. Additionally, I recognize that I came through the worst of the pandemic relatively unscathed. I'm grateful that I did not get sick-- and I managed to keep Brian healthy, too. I'm grateful that no one in my life who died during this time died from causes other than COVID19. 

However, there have been significant people in my life who have died during the worst of COVID19-- people for whom I have yet to reach some sort of closure. Oddly enough-- I have not been back to the Pittsburgh area in over two years { due to pandemic & Brian's cancer diagnosis in 2019} and I do not miss it. After 23 years in Northwest Florida, I consider myself more of a Southerner than a Rust Belt Appalachian. While there are some people who live there whom I love--- the divide between myself & the culture in the area of my origin has widened. It is weird and sad to say this: but I am not in any hurry to return to the Rust Belt Appalachians. The people whom I missed the most-- and whom I am grateful to see again now-- are my Pensacola people. 

The big bridge is operational-- so getting to the other side of Pensacola Bay is easy again. I'm joy-full regarding this improvement-- but am carefully guarding my personal space when it comes to storms. I cannot and shall not engage with people who make jokes about Skanska. While gallows humor might be their way of coping with Storm Season 2021-- this humor only triggers me. Hurricane Sally, its immediate aftermath and the long term effects on our area are too fresh in my mind. 

I feel fragile, and I know I am not alone in my trauma response .

We'll get through this in time. Meanwhile, let's be gentle towards each other. 

Amen

Sarah McCarren

19 June 2021

Reopening, Anxiety & Storm Season

 

                                                 A calm day at the beach. 

It is summertime , and { as the song says} the livin' is easy. 

Stop. Wait. We are slowly emerging from a pandemic and  storm season is in full swing. 

Many well-meaning people take to social media to post every " storm possibility track" once a system enters the Gulf. Now I know that " Sally" caught many of us off-guard here in Pensacola. Brian and I are prepared for any storm system  to enter the Gulf. We prepare, and weyy wait for the official word from the weather scientists. 

This is how I do my best to calm storm fear. 

Last summer/early aurum was hard--- especially when " Sally" walloped us on the far northwest coast of Florida and southern Alabama. After spending an entire summer with just our "  quarinteam"-- Nature added insult upon injury with a named storm that dumped record amounts of rain in my area. Additionally, due to a company's neglect-- barges got loose during the storm and rendered the Three Mile Bridge useless until very recently. 

Trauma upon trauma upon trauma & I am unsure how to live a " normal" life post-pandemic. I try to live a joy-full life, but one corner of my brain is always waiting for more  " shit to hit the fan". 

For those of us with anxiety, we do not need reminders of how bad life was back in 2020. For we anxious Pensacolians, the memory of the hours of rain that " Sally" dumped on us in September is still fresh in our minds. 

Seeing every storm update is not helpful. 

I've been working hard to have an attitude of hope and gratitude as we collectively pull ourselves from this pandemic. My wounds , however, are fresh-- I carry wounds from living through the pandemic, the named storm, and the scariest political season of my 40 plus years on Earth. 

We are all responding to trauma.  For those of us with documented mental health issues-- recovering from the collective trauma is harder. 

I'm counting my blessings--- but staying away from anything that triggers my own unhealthy trauma response. I've " snoozed" some Facebook contacts , so I am not exposed to any storm updates. Brian and I already have our storm supplies bought and stored. 

Be both safe & sane.  This is hard shit that we are experiencing as a society. Be mindful of others. Tend to your own well-being. 

Namaste...

Sarah McCarren

17 June 2021

Live Well

                                              St Catherine Of Siena....

I have dubbed Summer 2021 as " Summer of Recovery & Reentry ' Slowly but surely, people are returning to life in community. It has been a long, sad, lonely journey through this pandemic, and I am grateful that I survived it. 

I've chosen to focus on re-entry this summer because , for me, the hardest part of Pandemic Life was the limited was in which we could engage in helping others. While i understand that the isolation and virtual-EVERYTHING was necessary to save as many lives from COVID as possible, it still hurt my soul. 

Oddly enough, my brain and body adjusted to this long-term flight or fight mode of Pandemic Life. part of surviving COVID-tide for me was taking time to appreciate Creation. During the worst of the pandemic-- and before the storm knocked down Three-Mile Bridge, Brian and I spent a lot of time at Shoreline Park and Fort Pickens.  I found comfort in communing with the other species with whom we share this wonderful Gulf Coast. 

As people slowly emerge from our safe places, I am seeking ways to serve others based on some of the lessons COVID-tide has brought to me. I thank God that new opportunities are opening for me to get back " out there' and carry Christ to others. 

One main lesson is: Don't take anything or anyone for granted. Life is short-- and although no one in my immediate circle died of COVID-- I know people who * did* lose loved ones to the pandemic. the virus, and my turning forty-five years old in 2021-- made me realize that life on Earth is temporary.  God made me in order to serve others, and God does not want me to put off service to others until ' tomorrow'. 

Tomorrow is never a sure thing.  Live well-- and in service to others--- now. Tell -- and then back up words with actions--people of your love for them. 

Amen...

Sarah McCarren

10 June 2021

Hands: Our " Maker's Marks"

                                              Strong , capable, gentle hands of women in my life. Photo by The Pensacola Hippie C. 2018 . 

  Today our priest preached on of her best sermons of late. It dealt with our belonging to God, and how God The Creator might put God's " maker's marks" on us collectively & individually. 

  My thoughts went to the amazing engineering feat that is the human hand. We are the only creatures in Creation that possess opposable thumbs-- and one of the few species who have hands . Our primate cousins also have hands, but their hands lack the opposable thumbs that make grasping tools so easy for we humans. 

In our hands, I think we see evidence of our own making in God's Image. Through our hands, we are able to act as co-creators with God the Mother. 

 As a writer and artist-- I am especially mindful of my own two hands. In addition to my hands marking me as a member of the human family, the long slender fingers on each of my two hands are a physical trait that I share with people on my father's side of my family. I see the same finger length and hand shape evident in myself, my brother, our Dad , and my brother's children. These hands gripped both a basketball and various art supplies from an early age. As a writer, I depend on my hands' ability to type effectively on a keyboard every day. Musicians depend on hands to bring beautiful music from the page to the ears of listeners. 

 Our hands and our large, complex brains have also enabled humans to invent and use tools that make life easier. 

The question for we Christians might be: How can I use my hands to bring glory to God? How can my hands bless others' lives? When we act on these questions, we are also living into our Baptismal Covenant. At our baptism, the hands of another human -- a clergyperson-- poured water over us and then traced a cross onto our foreheads with their thumb. By our baptism, we are " marked" as a member of Christ's family here on Earth. 

While our hands are a visible sign of being born into the human family, our invisible , permanent  maker's mark' on our foreheads marks us as adopted kin of Jesus. 

Amen. 

Sarah McCarren

6 June 2021

                  
 

I Hated High School

                           Half of my class picture for Senior Year. See if you can find me.

Unlike most Americans, Prom and Graduation Season do not conjure any sweet memories for me. 

I hated High School---- and leaving was one of the happiest days of my life. 

In spite of the fact that i was an athlete, was in the college-prep path of classes, and dressed well, high school was a mine field every damn day.  It was a new battle every day when I hopped on that school bus. 

People bullied me. One girl in particular, with whom I'd been in school all my life and whose mother was friendly with my Mom-- made it her business to torture me. 

I have always said that guys have it easier when it comes to bullying. Guys just beat the crap out of each other & are pals the next day. Not so with females: We hurt each other with words and by purposly omitting " undesirables" from the group. 

This is what " Annie" did to me. She and I were on the same sports team, and since I did not drive, I was dependent on her for transport home from track meets & practices. I knew damn well that " Annie" did not want to give my shy, awkward, unpopular self rides home, but her mom insisted that she comply. 

I wasn't wanted. 

The situation with " Annie" was just one hurtful example of how the other teen girls treated me. To be honest, I never figured why " Annie" and the other Mean Girls hated me so much. I spent most of High school either buried in books or alone in the girls' restroom or hiding under the bleachers on warm days. 

I navigated the long bus rides to away games & meets by employing my Walkman and my collection of cassette tapes. 

Over a quarter century later & I am thriving. One of the best choices I made was to move completely away from that sad rural Appalachian community. I do NOT regret leaving all those sad memories behind, but I DO want to ask people to remember that not everyone sentimentalizes high school graduation. Many of us view our graduation as an escape from years of torment at the hands of our peers. 

Not all members of the Class of 2021 are sad about leaving their K12 years behind. For them, life will get so much better. I'm proud of all I have accomplished since high school . One of the biggest lessons that " Annie" and all the other Mean Kids of EHS Class of 1994 taught me is that bullies are really just broken people taking their shit out on someone whom they see as ' weak'. Guess what, punks?  Years of torture at your hands have only made me stronger. 

As for " Annie" I have forgiven her, but will never forget her years of being what kids today would call a " frememy". I hated those car rides home from practice as much as she did. 

Namaste...

Sarah McCarren

5 June 2021

Overcoming pandemic-related shyness

 

                                        Nature, and my faith { and faith community} has sustained me and continued to help me through the tail end of Weird Pandemic Life & Recovery . Photo by The Pensacola Hippie. 

  Happy June! It is hard to believe that 2021 is half over.  I've dubbed this summer as The Summer of Recovery". Everyone I know who will get the COVID vaccination has done so or is making plans to get it done. I can't waste brainpower or emotional energy of people whom I know who remain anti-vaxx. Life is too short. 

The Three Mile Bridge across Pensacola Bay, whose closure do to stupidity of humans, has isolated the entire Gulf Breeze peninsula-- has re-opened. There are only two lanes open to traffic right now, but the speeding is under control on BOTH ends of the bridge. Brian and I are looking to kayak soon at Shoerline Park over in Gulf Breeze. 

 Brian and I took a trip { driving} to Savannah for a nice getaway. We ate at restaurants and spent some time indoors & nothing tragic happened. As a matter of fact, the spouse and I totally enjoyed exploring one of the nation's oldest cities! 

But after months of restrictions, it is weird to venture into a more " normal life" . For instance, I feel much safer wearing masks in big crowds. Brian and I went to the pier with Dad and the littles yesterday. It was a lovely time with family--- showing the nephew and niece all the sea life that makes their homes in the Gulf. I noticed that I reverted back to Shy Sarah behavior-- purposely keeping as much distance as possible between myself and all the people I did not know. I even make a point of avoiding eye contact with those on the pier who are not known to me. 

It is sad, but Pandemic Life has made me revert back to my old, shy self. 

After all that has happened-- both with the Pandemic and the events of 2020 that lead up to the attempted coup on January 6-- I just cannot feel safe in crowds of strangers. Understanding the political leanings of most of Northwest Florida has me wary of big crowds. 

Damn, I hate returning to Shy Sarah. 

~Sarah McCarren

4 June 2021