Change Can Be Hard

The seasons are changing – daily, it seems, at the moment; I mean: what is up with the weather?! – and for a lot of people that marks a good time to go through their closet to evaluate their clothes. It’s no different for me, and I go through the process with my children as well.

With my teenage daughter, it’s surprisingly easy. She is unflinchingly honest about what she likes and what no longer works for her, and she has no trouble discarding what doesn’t belong in her closet anymore. To be fair, she’s had some practice recently, as she’s going through, like, the third growth spurt in a year and has had to change the contents of her closet accordingly several times throughout the past year.

My youngest, however, is a different creature altogether. He is 6 and has SPD (Sensory Processing Disorder) and because of his particular sensibilities he tends to form quite a strong attachment to things: cuddly toys (as a lots of kids do) but also games, the coffee machine, and yes, his clothes. So while I might be disappointed when something no longer feels as comfortable to wear, or just isn’t in line with my style anymore even though I truly love the item in question, he will be devastated when that happens. As it is, he is not great with change, but this kind of thing is even harder for him when he has to help make the decisions and see things being removed.

Now, before I continue, I should just note that this is specific to my son and not a defining trait in anyone who has SPD. I should also note that plenty of children who do not have SPD form deep attachments to things. I’m finding the things I’ve learned about my son’s SPD have helped me understand how these sorts of changes impact him. This post is only about my experiences with my son as we updated his closet, and for parents whose kids are similarly sensitive in this respect it may sound very recognizable.

Right, back to the closet. So my son is similarly going through a growth spurt, and has been growing out of things. Knowing how truly sad it can make him to part with things, I have been trying to make the process a little less painful by initially buying new items of underwear and new pairs of socks before filtering out the old ones. It’s one way to make the process a little less difficult for him, and to make it a little less obvious that some things will be going away for good.

But, as I said before, for certain things I will need him to actively participate in the process of taking out the old in order to evaluate what and how much new will be coming in. In order to make this manageable for him, I clearly set the parameters as well as the rules (“If it’s too small, it has to go”, “You never wear this, so let’s let someone else enjoy it.”). And before you ask: no, it does not help him to know that new clothes will be coming in to replace the ones that are going out. He is simply upset that the ones that have to go will be going.

Some of the items that didn’t make the cut were beloved staples. Others were items that he had grown out of before ever having worn them – this does not diminish his attachment to them. To him, it’s just the idea that these items are at home here and he feels awful when they are – in his mind – evicted. To him, each item has a soul, of sorts.

Here’s my little guy watching Ponyo after the clothing change ordeal.

To my great surprise (and relief) the person who has helped me the most in this process is Marie Kondo. Her method of parting with things has actually made it possible for my son to make his peace with this particular change. After we had finished sorting, we put all the clothes that we would not be keeping on a pile and we thought of how to say goodbye to them, and so I found myself holding up about 20 different t-shirts, sweaters and pairs of pants so he could “thank them for their service”. There were genuine tears, which were not accompanied by loud cries and acting out; just five minutes of him silently crying on my shoulder until he felt like he had come to terms.

What also helped him was knowing that the clothes would be passed down to a boy who lives down the street and who will be happy to wear them. It makes the goodbye less definite, and it give him the idea that the clothes have found a new home rather than just having been discarded. It’s a little like grieving in stages.

My son’s SPD has actually illuminated certain things about myself as well. His attachment to things, his idea that things somehow have feelings is something I am sometimes guilty of too, and was much more so when I was a kid. Except back when I was growing up, SPD was not a thing. We were supposed to stop being silly and just get on with it. No one would take seriously a sense of loss when you had to part with something because, after all, it was just a thing. While there’s something to be said for that approach – the world is not necessarily going to take our sensitivities into account – I’m glad that we handle these things differently today. Diagnosing and observing my son have given me a way to communicate with him in a more friendly and effective way, and it’s also given me the tools to find a healthy balance there: acknowledging the sensitivities while teaching him how to deal with them constructively, so he’s able to handle himself when he gets older.

SPD or not, we could probably all use the space and time sometimes to deal with things that we find unexpectedly difficult, for whatever reason. Awareness and validation of those emotions can really help decrease the negative impact of just barreling through and provide some practical instruments to process change, and that’s something we all need.

Picture (im)perfect

In these times of lockdowns and pandemic anxiety, like everyone I have been looking for ways to reduce stress and find a way to inject some new found appreciation into being house bound. I have been trying to tidy (sort of Marie Kondo style, but not quite), bullet journal (intermittently), design and do home workouts (either alone or together with the fam – these are usually binge watch workouts), or study (very, very hard to do with everyone at home and occupying the same space). This list, it turns out, is far too ambitious, but I keep trying.

Our “Psych” binge watch workout. That’s a fair amount of burpees and a lot of half boat extensions per episode…

And then I thought: maybe it will inspire and entertain me to browse through some interior design magazines. I’ll come up with marvelous ideas to make our home feel new and fresh. Turns out, that doesn’t work for me as well as I thought it would.

Why not, you ask? Well…

First of all, when I leaf through these magazines I very often find that the interiors and decorative ideas don’t really work for me – which is entirely a matter of personal taste, of course. Most of the themes and decors just don’t seem to appeal to me. But more importantly: most of the projects that these magazines suggest are so involved, and I just don’t have that kind of time! Or perhaps it’s a matter of prioritizing; I don’t know.

Either way, I really don’t see myself collecting and cleaning off used straws so I can cut them into little pieces and recreate a repurposed plastic mosaic of the Mona Lisa – not to mention that we only use either paper straws these days, or stainless steel washable ones. Should I somehow free up the time it takes to make weekly rounds of my house in order to frame home made art works and hang them on the walls, only to take them down and de-frame them the next week, then use the freed up frames for different home made art works and hang them up instead (lather – rinse – repeat)? Or give my house a whole new feel on the regular with all those personally restored hidden prizes I will have found after hours and hours of flea market treasure hunting; those same hours that – I may have mentioned this earlier – I just don’t have?

I definitely don’t see myself on a whim moving all the furniture out of our living room so I can sand down my wooden floor in order to give it a new finish that makes the floor look like it hasn’t been sanded down or finished at all – I mean, it sounds marvelously modern and magnificently natural, and it would definitely be a fantastic outlet for my inner minimalist, but still.

The main reason, though, why these interior design magazines don’t do it for me is that reading them leaves me frustrated rather than inspired. All those houses with oceans of space. Everything squeaky clean and not a speck of dust anywhere. Everything tidy and in its place. All the time. And these pictures of perfection are supposed to be attainable even for families with children across all ages – as it happens ours run from ages 6 to 13. What kind of exemplary mini humans are these that they are constantly tidying away all their toys and games and clothes and candy wrappers? Don’t they ever want to build a hut in the most inconvenient spot using everything they can find that has not been bolted down? Are there no socks or slippers or stuffies that slide underneath the couch and then lie there, just out of reach but still in sight? Do these children all eat neatly above their plates, spilling neither crust nor crumb?

This is what my living room table looks like when it’s neat and not being used as a dumping ground for every blessed lego piece and hair band and abandoned art project. It’s not exactly a mess, but it’s hardly minimalist perfection.

I know it’s all staged for the photo shoots, but the Stepfordness of it all freaks me out. Even in the houses where everything isn’t perfectly feng-shued on a shelf or neatly folded in a closet (with the closet door slightly ajar so you can see that the contents have indeed been neatly folded and tidily put away rather than hurriedly shoved behind a door because grandma has come over for a surprise visit), the one unfolded item of clothing has been draped over the edge of the bed with stylish “nonchalance”. The lone cuddly toy sitting on the sofa seems more like a modern art installation representing the tragedy of the eventual forced abandonment of childhood than a tattered stuffed bunny the resident 4-year old threw angrily across the room when his mother told him he wasn’t allowed a piece of candy. See? these stylized scenes seem to say, this is a room that’s lived in. Sure it is.

Spot the odd one out…

No, I’m afraid these examples of interior perfection are not for me. Do you know what magazine would work for me? An interior design magazine for families with children who don’t listen or who don’t like or manage to tidy up after themselves, and parents who don’t spend every spare second dusting every inch of their house or polishing their floors. A magazine with a special about storage and tidying solutions with spreads that include photos from before tidying, after tidying, and then five minutes after that, when the kids have been allowed back into the room to do what they usually do.

I’d subscribe to that magazine in a heartbeat!

It Goes On and On

It’s been two weeks since the Dutch government decided to close the schools, finally convinced not only by a panel of experts and healthcare specialists, but by public demand for schools to be closed because people were less than thrilled to have their children be potentially exposed to a dangerous virus and in addition become disease vectors, even if – thank goodness – nearly no children appear to become terribly ill from SARS-CoV-2.

In our house, it has been an adjustment, but not nearly as much as I had feared. To be fair, we’re self-isolating in relative luxury: we have enough food, drink and – and apparently this is a thing – toilet paper. (We have not hoarded toilet paper, yet I don’t worry that we’ll run out.) We also have a very pleasant garden with a trampoline and a comfortable seating area and now that the sun is out almost every day we spend a lot of our time outside, albeit with blankets to keep us warm because sunny does not equal warm, sadly.

A COVID-19 prevention information sheet posted in a window at our local shopping center

Of course, modern tech makes situations like these a lot easier than they have ever been before. We have phones, video calling apps, messaging apps, email and social media to stay in touch with those we care about, so we can keep ourselves and each other from feeling entirely isolated, and to help us stay abreast of what’s happening elsewhere in the world. Not to mention the access technology gives us to the information that is currently available on this strange, new virus. (Please try to limit yourself to information that is scientifically sound, and to cut out misinformation, disinformation and uninformed talking heads that are seeking to use this situation to sow division. We’ve got enough to deal with right now. This is a global pandemic; let’s look at how we can beat this together – apart, but together.)

The children have adapted to their new reality quite well; both the 12-year old and the 5-year old understand that keeping physical distance from others is important to keep everyone safe, not just ourselves. We’re trying as much as we can to keep a certain routine to our day: get up around 7 am, get dressed, have breakfast, do schoolwork while taking regular breaks for trampoline jumping, and then do some cleaning up at the end of the day before getting ready for dinner, and then bed.

With all that we’re doing to help flatten the curve in order for our healthcare system not to become overwhelmed, we still see people taking this thing lightly, and it astounds me. What we know about this virus is scary, what we don’t know is scarier still.

Things we know (or think we do):

Things we don’t know:

With all this, some things should really be perfectly clear to everyone by now. We don’t want to reach the point where healthcare workers need to start deciding who they will treat and who they won’t – as is already the case in Italy, for instance – simply because there is not enough capacity to treat everyone who falls ill with this virus. We don’t want to find ourselves in a situation where Corona cases so overwhelm the system that there is no more capacity for treating other, non-Corona patients, whether they be patients who require urgent care or patients whose care might not be urgent now, but whose care will become urgent if they don’t receive timely treatment. If that happens, it won’t only be COVID-19 patients that die, but there will be many more other and otherwise preventable deaths.

And, finally, we don’t want healthcare workers working in hazardous conditions in gear that is not sufficiently suited to protecting them from infection. We need to protect these people as they are putting in superhuman efforts to save as many as they can, despite being completely overwhelmed by this outbreak. It should not even need saying that when healthcare workers start falling away, we will be in an unimaginable world of trouble.

The reality we currently find ourselves in is, for want of a more sophisticated word, a running shit show. Effective, informed decisions to prevent the scope of this epidemic should have been made much earlier, but we’re past that point. Now, politics should not have anything to do with how anyone sees this clear and present danger. I didn’t think it was possible, but even under these circumstances, left and right seem to have become even further entrenched and alienated, and it’s because facts and reality have been relegated to the sidelines over the past few years as battle lines were drawn.

This being what it is, no-one’s politics will protect them from the reality of what COVID-19 is doing to everyone around the world. This virus is complex, and there is no silver bullet. One of the main problems we face today is that people who choose to, or are convinced to, set aside the facts in favor of some politician’s desired and often imaginary outcome become a danger to others because they refuse to implement the measures that will keep not only themselves, but also those others safe.

I can’t wrap my head around that. All I can do is make sure that I and my family are as safe as we can be, and to self-isolate until this pandemic is under control. That’s going to take time, but if a little discomfort now means we can still have a later, we’ll be safe, rather than sorry, not just for ourselves, but for everyone else as well.

Finally, a massive thank you to everyone putting themselves in harm’s way to help us through this: EMTs, nurses, doctors, sanitation workers, police, firemen, military personnel, chefs, delivery workers, supermarket staff, pharmacy staff, drugstore staff, and the many others that are keeping our society running. I can’t thank you enough – you’re our superheroes!

Corona Containment

Image from

The morning after new measures were announced to try and contain the spread of SARS-CoV2 in the Netherlands schools are still not closing, the logic being that schools are not very international environments and children don’t seem to get very sick anyway. Also, children staying home from school prevents parents in healthcare professions, for instance, from going to work, because the children need to be cared for.

The problem with that logic is that we don’t know exactly how this things spreads and whether it can also spread from asymptomatic carriers of the virus. Children who are carriers can and likely will spread the illness at home. Parents working in those crucial professions will then still catch and carry the illness (purpose of measure defeated), either becoming sick themselves or potentially exposing more vulnerable people.

A current R0 of 2.5 for this thing means that between 40% and 70% of the world population would become infected with Corona:

Containment is vital at this point if we want to prevent Italian situations, as experts in the field of epidemiology are warning us: (in Dutch), and evidence suggests that school closures are among the more powerful weapons we have to flatten the curve:

There have been reports from Brabant that there is already not enough capacity to test medical personnel at this point in time – (in Dutch) – nor are we able to find the source of each infection, which is worrying:

Last night, our PM spent a lot of time not really answering questions as to why other countries seem capable of closing their schools when we apparently are not (though he did say at one point that he wouldn’t mind closing schools if the advice to do so was stringent enough and he felt it was feasible): (in Dutch). Thankfully, at least a motion was passed last night declaring that parents who do choose to keep their children home preventatively will not be faced with fines. It’s a start.

As a side note: unfortunately one of the loudest voices for more far-reaching measures in the debate was one of our extreme right wing politicians, Geert Wilders. While he made good points regarding the virus and our inadequate measures of containment, I am fearful that this will give him more of a political foothold, which would be detrimental for our country, as the rest of his political platform is worryingly xenophobic at best.

But I digress.

One of the biggest problems we face at the moment in this country is that many people still underestimate the seriousness of this disease. The Dutch will say this is “Nederlandse nuchterheid” (Dutch down-to-earthness ), to which I say: there is a fine line between that and negligence/stupidity. Even confronted with truly horrible scenes in Italy, many Dutch people still seem to feel like Corona won’t hit us as hard even if we don’t take the recommended containment measures. That is an illusion.

Even if it is true that many people will likely not become seriously ill from SARS-CoV2, we have a vulnerable share of the population to take into account for which this illness is potentially fatal, and a responsibility to each other – despite expectations that most people who fall ill will recover – not to infect one another if we can prevent it. If you need it put in plainer terms: I don’t think anyone would be particularly thrilled if their friends infected them with an illness, even if they wouldn’t die from the result.

We will have to wait and see how this develops, but for the time being our family is being extra careful and running as little risk as possible, both for our own safety and for the safety of others. We hope others will do the same.

Slow Motion

I just did 20 minutes of bed yoga. This was my first real yoga session in two months. (This post comes from a place of frustration – just so you know. Feel free to skip past the lament and straight to the last five paragraphs or so.)

Since mid-August I’ve been struggling with a running train of health issues, starting with bursitis in my right shoulder. It forced me to a near standstill, partly due to pain and partly because I needed to take care not to let it get out of hand to the point where it would require a corticosteroid injection into the joint (I have experience with those in my other shoulder, and if they can be avoided – avoid them!).

What happened next was pretty much my own fault. Here’s what happened.

We’ve been doing some house and garden renovations. The garden was done entirely by a rather brilliant gardening company who turned our back garden into a thing of beauty– for the first time in years, we actually spent time in our garden, enjoying the weather and relaxing in comfort. But the garden wasn’t the only thing we decided to change.

The living room also got a revamp, and a lot of that was (IKEA) DIY. Now, people who know me will tell you that I tend to attack these projects with reckless (stupid?) abandon, and this project was no exception. There was a couch to be put together and a TV/audio cabinet/book/display case to be built and I was on it! Since the bursitis was in decline, I got cocky and basically spend three days hammering, sawing, lifting, and doing general construction, taking as few breaks as I could because I wanted it done.

This was after I’d spent several hours the weeks before taking apart bookcases after emptying them of what I can only describe as a mountain of books and moving those books into boxes and those boxes around the living room in anticipation of the new furniture arriving.

Now, when I do things like this, I am not particularly good at paying attention to my physical well-being. For instance, I am perfectly capable of ending up with bloody scratches and bruises in strange places without being able to reconstruct the specific events leading to them.

Which is how I broke a bone in my hand. Not sure what I did exactly, but broken it was.

Quite painful, really, especially the first few days in the cast.

It was around that time, incidentally, that I also noticed a painful spot around a vertebra (which I think I can trace back to hitting my back hard against a table while moving around furniture, but I can’t be sure – it’s a particular talent; what can I say?). That painful spot is only marginally less painful 4 weeks on.

All of the above is not to invite you to a pity party, just really to illustrate the self-inflicted nonsense I’ve been dealing with these past 2 months.

And as I said earlier, it’s brought me to a near standstill.

And, as I also said earlier, this morning was my first yoga session in 2 months. It was only 20 minutes of bed yoga, but that’s the only yoga I can do at the moment. My hand and wrist have been painful, stiff and near devoid of strength since the cast came off, and I can’t really place any weight on them, which makes a lot of yoga poses quite difficult (downward facing dog, cat cow, cobra, and so on). So the asanas for now will have to be mostly focused on mobility and flexibility, and any surface I practice on will have to be soft yet supportive, both for my hand/wrist and my back – i.e. bed yoga.

It felt so good to finally be doing yoga again. If I’m honest, it wasn’t just the injuries that kept me from practicing; I’ve also been in a bit of a funk since all of these issues started. Pain is demotivating and exhausting, not to mention it makes you pretty damn cranky! But as, since all this started, I’ve gotten only a fraction of the exercise and movement that I used to get as recently as 4 months ago, I’m now seeing a massive decline in strength and mobility. This morning’s session really brought that home for me: I was sluggish and inflexible, and I spent most of the session pushing past the discomfort in various parts of my body.

I also spent a lot of time comparing what I was able to do this morning to what I was able to do not too long ago. Beginner king dancer? Forget it! Crow? Pipe dream at this point. Supported head stand? Umm, no. Eight angle pose? I don’t even want to think about it! And I used to be able to do those poses!!

That said – and this is the good part – it felt so good to finally pick up my yoga again. Nothing has really been forgotten; I still spend a good part of my day thinking about the various poses, yoga philosophies, how to get used to yoga with fewer asanas for the time being, and how I can incorporate what I’m going through into what I hope one day to be a practice that includes others: a practice that aims to help people in similar situations to me, people who have injuries that prevent them from doing the asanas that an undamaged body can do.

It’s also helpful for me to see that I need to make a mental adjustment. While I firmly believe that it’s good to keep striving for progress – of course it is! – doing it just for that reason to me means I’ve been doing it for the wrong reasons of late. I need to do the yoga that is good for me, both physically and mentally. I shouldn’t be doing it to show off how advanced my poses are and how “good” I am at yoga. If you do yoga and you’re doing it well – that is: in a way that is good for your body and mind – then you’re good at yoga. More than that: don’t do yoga to be good at yoga. Do it because yoga is good for you.

Maybe it’s a reminder I needed. For a yogi, I’ve been pretty damn awful at listening to my body, always pushing too far. It’s in my nature, but it’s not exactly healthy or sensible. And it’s certainly not yoga.

So here’s what I’ve concluded: I’m pretty stubborn so life has given me a kick in the butt after repeated and futile gentle nudges. I guess for me the lesson here is to take the subtle hints a little better from here on in. I hope I’m not too old to learn.

Merry Christmas

I’m back here on my blog for the first time in two years. Not counting the political upheaval and all its emotional and real-world repercussions, these have been challenging years – especially this past one.

And precisely because this is true, I have been trying to count my blessings every day, and to enjoy the little things, the moments, the people that make my life special and that keep me going.

So with that in mind: have a very merry Christmas, everyone, and enjoy the holiday season! Stop long enough to recognize and soak up the small things, the moments, the people. It really only takes a few seconds and it’s absolutely worth it!

Restoring the Fourth Estate

Good, honest, impartial and balanced reporting has always been important, but never more so than today.

We’re at a pivotal moment in Western civilization, where societies will commit either to democracy or authoritarianism. Now, more than ever, it is time for the Fourth Estate to recommit to providing one of the most essential checks and balances: an informed public. That means a renewed dedication to reporting facts and truth, and clearly indicating when an item is a news report and when it is an opinion piece or endorsement. It means no more click bait, no more sensationalist headlines, no more unsubstantiated reports, no more claims out of context, no more witch hunts or character assassinations. In other words, it is time for the media to step up to do its most important job: to help people understand their communities, their country, and the world and all its people and cultures.

Ratings and circulation are important, of course, because a media outlet must be a viable enterprise, but the nature and purpose of the press has gotten lost in a tsunami of capitalism and a battle of ideologies. This likely means that a new economic model is needed to ensure an independent, fair and unbiased press whose voice will not be drowned out among the misinformation and disinformation currently poisoning the well.
The mess we find ourselves in today is due to any number of causes, chief among them a lack of transparency, a lack of information and knowledge, and as a result of these a breakdown in communication and a lack of understanding and respect.

In a healthy democracy, there is no room for a post-factual approach or disdain for the truth, especially if it’s an inconvenient one. History matters, and so does the present. In order to preserve the future, there should be a clear and uncontested path for all citizens to obtain the facts, engage in critical thinking on the basis of those facts, and to reach their own conclusions. We may each draw different conclusions, and we may not agree with one another, but at least the foundation will be solid, and we will not be drawn into a disastrous future with the wool drawn over our eyes.


Wij hebben nog tijd

Sinds de overwinning van meneer Trump in de Amerikaanse presidentsverkiezingen heeft het gespookt in mijn hoofd. Eng om te zien dat mensen uit puur protest iemand met de overtuigingen van die man konden verkiezen tot hun president, maar ik begon me af te vragen of het hier ook kan gebeuren; of wij er hier ook toe in staat zijn om feiten, xenofobische en racistische uitspraken te negeren om een demagoog ons land te laten besturen.

Zeker na de toon die is gezet in Amerika over het afgelopen jaar is de inzet immers: als je maar klare taal spreekt, maakt het niet uit wat er uit je bek rolt. Toch?

En als we daarin meegaan, zijn we minstens zo erg als die Amerikanen waar we nu al dagen met afschuw, spot en ongeloof over praten.

Die uitspraak: hij zegt wat ik denk/voel, daar moet toch automatisch een andere vraag aan gekoppeld zitten? Is wat ik voel misschien eigenlijk wel gewoon een beetje fout?

Als iemand hardop een door angst of onwetendheid of eenvoudige gemeenheid ingegeven uitspraak doet waarvan hij eigenlijk best weet dat die niet te verteren is omdat het gedachtengoed erachter niet in orde is, dan hoef je zo iemand niet te prijzen omdat hij hardop zegt wat niet deugt en wat andere mensen dan dus misschien wel voelden/dachten maar tot dan ook niet hardop zeiden omdat het niet deugt. Zulke ideeën worden niet opeens verheven of fatsoenlijk omdat een politicus ze luidkeels verkondigt.

Laten we proberen om te leren van de fouten die nota bene op ons eigen grondgebied nog geen honderd jaar geleden zijn gemaakt, en waarvoor velen zich nog steeds plaatsvervangend schamen. Een collectieve waanzin die zo erg is geweest dat generaties later nog steeds geen excuses afdoende zijn om goed te maken wat de bevolking hier toen een hele bevolkingsgroep heeft aangedaan. Omdat een demagoog zei dat het hun problemen zou oplossen – problemen die daardoor niet alleen nog veel erger werden, maar die gezelschap kregen van andere, nog veel ergere problemen. Een onderbuikreactie die zoveel schade heeft berokkend dat er na afloop van WO II meerdere verdragen zijn opgesteld in een poging ons in de toekomst te beschermen tegen onze eigen kwade demonen. Het is triest dat dat überhaupt nodig is, dat dat fatsoen niet ingebakken zit en verwacht mag worden.

We hebben toegang tot meer kennis, informatie en communicatiemogelijkheden dan ooit. Er is geen excuus meer om ongeïnformeerd te zijn als we dit soort belangrijke beslissingen maken. Ja, we voelen en we vrezen, maar we moeten ook denken en durven.

En dat betekent dat we niet alleen haat en isolationisme moeten afwijzen, maar vooral ook dat de politiek een goed alternatief moet bieden voor de retoriek van de populisten en demagogen die ons vertellen wie we de schuld moeten geven van alles, maar die met geen woord reppen over daadwerkelijke oplossingen. Alsof met de vinger wijzen het antwoord is. Het is wel makkelijk natuurlijk: dan hoef je je verder niet in te spannen om constructief te zijn en kun je net doen alsof globalisering niet bestaat, behalve als het je uitkomt. En dat cynisme, daar halen de populistische partijen hun macht vandaan. Ze zijn er echt niet in geïnteresseerd het leven beter te maken voor “echte” Nederlanders.

Dus, politiek Nederland, laat je van je goede kant zien. Erken dat er een hoop mensen zijn die legitieme problemen hebben met de gang van zaken hier, die zich zelfs gemarginaliseerd voelen, en doe het niet af als een gevalletje “ze begrijpen er niet genoeg van”. Zie de problemen, en bied constructieve oplossingen of op zijn minst een uitleg.

En wij als kiezers: laten we asjeblieft leren van onze eigen en andermans fouten, en niet vanuit de onderbuik besluiten. Laten we niet een land creëren waar politici onze burgers bang maken voor onze medeburgers. Dat land bestaat al: het heet Amerika.



Oh, it is so well beyond time for me to write something on this blog again. I got lost in mothering and tidying (yes, Marie Kondo got her hooks into me too). The tidying is almost done – I’ve mostly adhered to the category based tidying system, but our attic (read: dumping ground in the seventh circle of hell) really is a space based project. It is on the calendar for the day after tomorrow. Which gives me time to find courage anywhere I can. Somehow.
And now that I have regained some semblance of order, I feel like it is appropriate for me to get back into blogging. The timing is right: it’s NaNoWriMo after all. Now, I know I’m not going to be able to crank out 2500 words a day and twice that on Sundays, because between birthday parties, childhood illnesses, laundry, budgeting and seriously challenged energy reserves, I’m lucky if I manage to stay awake when I’m sitting with my youngest until he falls asleep in his bed at 7 PM. So no NaNoWriMo for me. You can call me unambitious, or just a realist.

A blog post on a regular basis should be feasible, though. 

This is the so-manieth try in a series of attempts to finally firmly establish a healthy, consistent writing habit. I keep trying, and failing, and trying again. Eventually I’ll get it right, but until I do I’m going to give myself some credit for not giving up.

And that’s worth something, for sure.

My Thoughts on Brexit

Given the events of the past week, it seems Britain is in a pickle. Even with the UK currently stuck between a rock and a hard place, many might still be convinced that Leave was the right way to vote, but extricating the UK from the European Union without significant side-effects is proving rather more difficult than expected.
But then, the orchestrators of Brexit seem in no particular hurry to set events in motion, nor do they seem to even have a plan – even a very basic, broad strokes one – for how to proceed. That, however, is Britain’s problem now, as the EU is anxious for it to invoke article 50 and begin its departure, relieving everyone from the unnecessary uncertainty that is the current state of affairs.
What Britain has learned is that its departure looks to be a lot less smooth than Farage, Johnson and Gove, to name a few, have made it out to be. Promises were made and walked back, assurances were given which now prove untrue.

The European Union has spent (wasted?) a considerable amount of time negotiating a deal with David Cameron, an outcome and effort that Cameron himself apparently thought so little of as to have it tossed aside in the referendum that he himself promised in order to leverage his re-election.

Leaving aside the ugliness of the campaign leading to the current outcome, Britain now finds itself in an interesting but untenable position.
The EU has invested a lot in trying to keep Britain in the Union – something the British no doubt see differently – and so for this reason and many more it now no longer feels inclined to make any allowances when Britain finally decides to invoke article 50. For possibly the first time ever, the UK will be treated no differently than any other country, it will not get the opt-outs it is so used to injecting into every agreement, it will not get to cherry pick its privileges without committing itself to certain obligations. It will, in other words, have to take or leave what it is offered. If it takes what it can get, the voters at home will be miffed, to say the least. If it doesn’t, the guaranteed access to the common market that Boris Johnson so confidently wrote about simply will not happen. That will result in a whole different set of problems for Britain, chief among them the high likelihood of the dissolution of a formerly United Kingdom with Scotland likely deciding to secede if that is the only way for it to remain in the European Union (recent talks certainly seem to point in that direction), and Northern Ireland exploring its options with Ireland.

If Parliament should decide to walk back the decision and risk the ire of a set of disenfranchised Leave voters, the UK will still have irreparably damaged its relationship with its constituent parts by showing a shocking disregard for, for example, Northern Ireland and the Good Friday agreement, and the reassurances it gave Scotland at the time of its independence referendum in 2014. It will also have permanently altered its relationship (and not for the better) with the European Union, which seems increasingly disinclined to “take it back” as it were even if it changed its mind, Britain having proven itself such an unreliable partner. In fact, if Nigel Farage is to be taken seriously (a subject for a separate discussion in itself) Britain’s membership in the EU has been something of a Trojan horse. Yes, Minister was supposed to be a satirical comedy show; Farage seems to have taken it, stripped it of its humour, injected it with malice and applied it to his presence in the European Parliament.

And so, after a protest vote in an ill-advised referendum, Britain seems to have little to no room to move and not really anywhere to go. The climate inside its borders, newly accentuated, is hostile and tense. Brexit was a rash decision, made on the basis of tenuous arguments, misinformation and false promises. I imagine there are quite a few people who wish they could take all this hindsight and turn back time on this tangled mess. If only Doctor Who were real.