In passing . . .
I remarked astonishment at the number of people I know, who as children had been raped; in most instances, by their parents.
She raised her hand, two fingers parallel, pointing upward, emerald eyes, steady in gaze unsmiling. Our now reconciled lexicon equivalent are: sexual/emotional abuse.
Violation is not exclusively physical it is also emotional. Extreme ideals, perceptions, prejudicial conclusions and interpretations lead to extreme aggression. To correct misbehavior assertion seems more appropriate, especially when using “I” messages versus ‘YOU!” for opening negotiation.
Another friend who, unaccountably like me, garners intimacies unsolicited. While at a topless bar he said; “Most of the girls here were abused by their fathers. Sadly I know too many men with a comparable history.
Proverbs 13:24 is open to interpretation. Judging by the generation preceding mine, it seems that a literal conclusion was drawn and applied. By penis, stick, fist, or in cases of what we now call ADHD: Ritalin. The consequences of either, or all of the above, are to inflect a lifetime of hurt--self-perpetrating. I am especially concerned at the current accusation of desertion or malingering applied to soldiers with PTSD trauma. Were the solution to this problem a new weapons system, no expense would be spared. With sorrow I hear the position taken by those in authority to accuse, judge and condemn the victim as a coward. . . . And it is not uncommon for the conviction to be make by, and at, vast remove from the cause.
The Rod can equally be understood as device used to measure the distance or length of things. Think, please, of scepter and crown. In any and all cases it’s use in any regard should be considered after a time-out, lengthy soul searching and mercy for both the punisher and the punished . . . or simply being held accountable for disruptions.
Measuring the runes and ruins of my life, now forgiven and healed, I remember best the worst punishment of all: silence. I am reminded of a friend whose father used her sexually first at six. By the age twelve when, she sought his attention in the only manor of affection he ever paid her, she was abandoned to silence. In her lifelong quest for love she always sought “BAD BOYS”. . . . And it is not she alone, for I spent a few long moments in the cell with a woman who’d burned her husband alive. She didn’t say a word to prove her innocence of the conviction, a lifetime imprisoned.
It is usually around the age of forty that we begin to feel, regardless of any other measure “success” is not enough to hide the distress fearing another forty feeling distempered. Women reach this apogee sooner than men since they mature early and out pace us, we men, ad infinitum.
If you are mentally ill, or think you are, or suffering in silence the humiliation of abuse, it is a good time, getting better, to be so. My transparency and potentially “inappropriate” self-revelation, once was seen as indicative, a diagnostic, of being bipolar--manic depressive. Acquisition cost me tens of thousands of dollars in medication. In retrospect; alternative remedy is available through self-investigation and lasting healing, is within your grasp.
I sift through the hair suit of my life and discover choices I regret triggered by the simplest thing, an attempt to do penance for a crime I, at twelve, did not commit against my sister. She equally maligned at six. The result was and endless effort to acquire acceptance and love set upon hair-triggered bear trap snapping shut at any sign of disapproval. I was wired that way disembodied slavery as a victim or runaway.
I advocate for you. What I write is a faltering attempt to sell you the best franchise of all: yourself.
120429 04:13
Teachers who taught me best remembered, none definitive remain, yet she who ran bare foot at 11 emerald eyes seeking peaches and pears, for her persistence to encourage the deconstruction of self-contempt. Not me alone, thank The All, for such a work of art, and force of nature, it would be criminal to constrain, sequester, hoard or hide.
Seen across the dog watch sea, a match struck glimmering become no scintillation but creation itself a shadowless light blinding amazement. The sea of loathing evaporated.
Those who also saw an investment I can never repay though none was is expected. Taught the color of freedom saffron plumed. A Phoenix arising against restraints rent. Again, round and round about, to see those who cared as equally awesome more for their origins than their fact. Taught not the what but the why derived from only that we are unique, precious beyond the value of all measure. To be enabled passing along the gem an unfolding of more. A cosmology of no cat’s eye marbles, or pearls, so much as a milky way of them without boundaries.
Dark mortality be not vain.
. . . love’s labor never deadly creating a world we would gladly give & leave behind
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