In
a few instances I can recall having had dreams as complete short
stories. Some I can remember and now wonder if they are amongst the
many early ones I destroyed or abandoned kept in journals. The first
several hundred, possibly near one-thousand, were screeds filled with
angst. Attempts to make sense of chaos. Finding reasons for being
abandoned and trashed physically and emotionally.
The
dream I have just awakened from is so bizarre that I can hardly
contain it regarding my sister, her husband and their family about
whom I seldom dream.
In
which their children had adopted children certain to die. And in one
instance married one to collect the insurance. Perhaps this was
suggested, I am not sure. The disquiet I had in the dream and now is
better placed in my thesis that we all are one family global. (Added
later: Nothing is for Naught and nothing is as judged.)
Being
fully human and well acquainted with joy and sorrow, my devils and
angles, little surprises me save the on going receipt of confessions
regarding those amongst us victimized. There is a significant
difference between the original journals I kept and now. Where there
was outrageous behavior I now tend towards forgiveness,
understanding, mercy; instead of vindication or retribution. A
personal choice. Not what I advocate for the confessor. For whom, if
allowed, or indicated, or requested, I have labored to aid their
peace. If not absolution. Knowing too well being possessed by rage
towards those who did persecute me.
Possible
now only after long effort to understand the what, why, when, where
and how integrating both my responsibility and my parents. (Added
during rewrite: I sense in all cultures extreme views and behaviors
that plague us all.)
Nothing
worked for me. And the commonly sought remedies were unavailable due
to the secrets it seemed that I must keep. Adapting to circumstance
now redefined by M through her vast experience with criminal
behavior.
The
impact upon a child regarding abuse, sexual or emotional, is equal in
consequence. The source of predation is as often extreme religious,
political, economic views as drugs such as alcohol. Many of us, the
abused, turn out well and at the very least are able to cope. Tempted
here to use the the term “NORMAL” but nothing is normal except a
setting on laundry appliances. Instead I will simply say that on
average we are born, live, then die without causing harm to others.
No one escapes life all die. Death being the great democracy.
Suicide
is a constant companion near always mentioned as an alternative by
those who share their intimate lives with me. I sense this is the
motive behind rampage acting out. The costs to the commonweal is
staggering and growing through the Population Stress Syndrome. Which
by investigation is largely attributable to natural consequence by
over population in Earth Science. My inquiry is far reaching beyond
the bounds of good and evil. Which I believe is fundamentally
sentimental and wishful thinking. Or worse, projection upon the
behavior of others, that which we deny in ourselves.
11:54
In
another dream, at first I thought the dream rude and salacious; about
men and very young nubile women. Something appropriate for
Literotica. But with my next cup of coffee began integrating it into
my sense of what is above, earlier written; an abiding concern.
There
is no school for parenting. Of those in my memory none have proven
ineffective. To the contrary they seem responsible for harm. There
are far too many cases of incest unreported. And like my secret
regarding my parents difficulties with alcohol, one of the lies I
lived by far too long. By my experience we the victims presume
responsibility as a defense mechanism—being cute, literary, what I
call preemptive damage control: “I am bad and deserve nothing
better” or “I am to stupid to live” . . . or learn, or become
healthy and whole . . . to be a completely real person sincere. Not
exclusively defined by race, gender, gender proclivities, creed or
anything outside my choice; given that I am, like all of us free, to
meld within the global community responsibility participating and
doing no harm.
Recently
I remarked to a friend, while discussing our choices of mates, the
advantage/problem with pornography is it never talks back. To which
we both, in chagrin said, 'neither did our mates.' The absence of
response equals no affection. A passive-aggressive rejection.
Abandonment. No trust possible. My compulsion, addiction and fetishes
have been a curiosity forever. Understanding finally that what I
sought from others was impossible since I always chose those who most
closely resembled my most dysfunctional parent. Why settle for
fleeting minutes of pleasure when limitless joy can be yours
eternally? Sexual gratification is the lesser part, glorious in and
of itself, but minor to a lifetime of friendship.
130422
04:59
What
loves us is ourselves, finally, and then the fear and hatred leaves.
Self-Love is not “Hey Look At Me!” but being a friend and parent
to the child we—really it was merely me who remained childish for a
very long time, growing up and old, never 'mature.' Lending me a
small urgency to share the process, the miracle. Neither this nor
that; but the whole megillah . . . unique to each of us individually.
21:14
Apropos
of nothing within this post but the parenthetical expansion of time
when with M. Her name and birthday coupled with a plethora of other
personal to me mythologies expands our time, precious, beyond the
beginning and ending of either us or it, itself, time. Our times
together are fewer now due to a host of reasons. No three times a
week but once a week if I am lucky. We seem oddly fragile and
resilient physically. Yet as from the beginning, so now, we bask in
one another; silence within cacophony. I cupping both ears to hear
her lilting lullaby of voice.
This
post it getting over long and I will swiftly close with the
following. I began to suspect myself a “dry drunk” given my
parents problems. Then began a number of 12 Step programs ending in
Codependent issues from which I conclude myself graduated. Astonished
that the process goes on expanding and discovering issues to which I
clung, mostly people, who rehearsed my parents behavior, destructive
to my marginal sanity. People incapable of loving themselves lending
equality to anyone or thing outside their rigid defenses.
Returning
to M. I was thinking she had, in her manifold gifts to me,
constructed a scaffold, or enabled one for me to build myself a life
exclusive to my needs and intentions. However, for now I, will
advocate that should you be a victim, as I once was, seek help. Stop
isolating within the stew of secrets kept. Find peers with whom you
can identify taking ownership of your self.
I
think my greatest gift is friendship with that which most call “God.”
Neither faith or belief but experience.
130421
06:24 MDT Family Issues
©
2013 by Jack Spratt – All Rights Reserved
