Long ago, I wrote, so I wouldn't lose my mind. Still have most of those journals. Now I struggle with writing differently. There are so many options now. And it is clear now that I don't have to worry too much about the words getting burned in the trash...and forgotten...but now a more difficult problem arises. In cyberspace, nothing goes away. And while there exists inside me a primal need to be heard, the question becomes: who will hear it?
That thought can stifle creativity easily. Some thoughts, I think, are better left in the dark. These days, not much is left in the dark. The things on TV now, even the news, is so very soul destroying.
There are things that need telling, explaining...yet I fear so much about explaining them.
You may think of me as quite liberal, especially as I write the way I do. I am not liberal...and I am not conservative. I seek justice and truth...and I don't care too much on which side of the fence it falls.
I wanted to write about pornography, but I don't know exactly how. It is so prevalent and subtle. I had no idea what an industry it was until, in my 20s, I made a comment to a friend. I did not enjoy too much my husband's attentions. She gave me a stack of magazines. They were...very interesting. I didn't understand then, and now, older and alone, I understand. Some part of me refuses to be treated as an object. That was what I learned in those magazines: if I could allow myself to accept the role of object, I would have lots of company. I would never be alone. What they don't tell you in those magazines is how love has nothing to do with it.
So it boils down to this: if you don't want to have a child with me, and raise it together, then don't ask me for things you don't deserve. And if I am not totally committed to a life long union with the one I choose to be 'father' of my children, they I have betrayed everyone: the man, my children, myself.
And the lies we tell ourselves to make a relationship "work" just destroys our souls even further.
I hate bringing these ideas up, because I feel perhaps I am being too harsh in a world that doesn't have a clue about what it means to love.
But many of the conversations this week have been about this most scary subject. I could go through telling you about how I convinced myself that my behavior so long ago was appropriate and logical...oh how I relied on that word: logical. I learned too early that I was just an object...to make yourself comfortable with what others tell you that your are...
oh the violence we do to ourselves to live up to another's expectations! And we don't even know we are hurting ourselves, we want so desparately to be loved and accepted!
How do we teach our children? What do we teach our children? If you didn't get the basics of what real love looks like as a child, how can you possibly teach your children? I lived in constant fear for my children, that someone might hurt them. That I was as helpless as a parnet as I was as a child from evil that is always looking for a way in...Now I look at my grandchildren...I know the statistics...and I wonder...how do we make the lies stop? Is it really possible to keep them out of harm's way, or are we only able to teach them how to defend themselves when evil approaches? A black belt in Kung Fu? (there is some gleeful satisfaction in kicking evil's ass now and then, but what might make is permanently leave? or is that impossible?)
These were not the words I intended to write today. I've already forgotten why I turned on the computer. And I must get to church an dthen the hospital.
Perhaps it was this new pope: Pope Francis. I see him as the beginning of the ending of evil. A Jesuit. Now let's see how a Jesuit tells me how I am to live out my life. I am curious and I believe he might share with me a truth I have yet to hear. More than that, I think he will care well for the poor. The poor include not just the defenseless children in the womb, but the defenseless children in families who have forgotten that their children are still gifts when they are five or ten or fifteen years old. That will be exciting.
Pager is going off. Gotta go.
Teach your children well. All the hard, scary stuff too...and love them well.
Love,
Cindy
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