“May it be a long and healthy hate!”
In my mind I keep going back to the MASH episode where that Hawkeye doctor guy has a patient that is only 15 years old. The kid lied to get into the army. At first the doctor promised the kid that he would not turn him in when the kid said that he knew that he was supposed to be there. After thinking about it and considering that the kid could die or worse the doctor changes his mind and turns the boy in. As the MP’s are taking the boy away, the kid glares at the doctor and says – I will remember this forever and I will hate you for as long as I live. The doctor smiles warmly at the boy and his reply is this,
“May it be a long and healthy hate.”
This episode is particularly intriguing to me because the doctor realized that with the boy living he would have to opportunity for growth and time for perspective and understanding. If he had kept him there, death was a obvious and overwhelmingly strong outcome – hate is a choice, but – in my mind – the doctor also knew that the boy could live a long life. It was a choice that really hit home for me. You do things for people and with people even when it is difficult. You cannot control others choices. The only choices you can control are your own. That was also something that struck me about this doctor’s choice. He took into consideration the boys whole character, and also his own.
This is something that I see in you a lot. You are looking at me in a loving way. That freaks my shit out something fierce – because I am very unfamiliar with it and that scares me more than the horrible things that are more common place for me. I do not understand a lot, but I do know that you care. I hope you know that I know that. I am sorry and I do not mean you any type of harm. I am not able to be as honest with other people and I fear that you will see my words and read them in a way that is angry and nothing more. I share with you how I feel, but only portions of the feelings. I have no clue how to share it all and because there is so many many feelings – I am scared more than I am anything else. I want to understand. I also want to be understood. You tell me the wonderful things that you understand about God, and you speak from your heart. Why is it that I am not allowed the same opportunities and respect? Is it because I understand things in a different way?
There was a movie a while back, called ‘The 6th sense.’ The little boy says something to the effect of – now I draw rainbows, they don’t have parent teacher meetings over rainbows. This child had crafted images and pictures about the devastating and scary situations that plagued him in his every day life. That boy was suffering, but all around him – no one could deal, cope, nor would they/ could they understand. When he spoke of the REAL things that were happening in his life his actual experiences he was declared a freak and gazed upon as a project rather than a person with feelings and a beating heart that mattered like the rest of the muggles in this God forsaken world seem to.
GOD! I am not trying to be a bully, and I am not trying to hurt you or anyone else. But I am trying to be heard. You want to be heard right? You like feeling valued and your opinion noted. I do too, how am I so different from you that I do not deserve the same type of respect?
Perhaps I am going about it wrong.
I am told to be silent. I am verbally (and otherwise) punished for my sincere pursuits and instead of being listened to I am told that I must listen. In the place of kindness, I am met with pitiful frustration if I do not confess my ‘real’ sins and do exactly what whomever suggested. I cannot even get in three full sentences before advice is offered.
“This is what you NEED to do…” is the most common phrase used. At this point I have not even asked for anything. I try to look at things from their perspective and to bind their good intentions with mine and create a common idea from where the conversation could persist. I ask questions and seriously consider why they would be saying to me whatever it is that they are saying. As I listen, usually I can understand what they are going through, and offer support with no advice unless it is asked of me. But, the same type of respect is not reciprocated and I do not understand why?
I get told what I NEED to do and what they KNOW GOD wants me to do it. However when I suggest anything else – like a different perspective – then I am suddenly ungrateful. Some have said that I deserve what has happened in view of the fact that it has not stopped yet.
I spoke with a counselor, who is at least 15 years my senior, and she told me verbatim “When you say ‘no‘ with enough force, you will not be raped or molested or beaten anymore.”
That is preposterous and laughable!!!!!
How many times have I said – NO!!! – and not a damn thing changed for the good??? If anything it was worse. The conversation that we had was not in a therapy session. It was just a regular conversation between two women. Rape happens when someone says NO and they are made to do it against their will. What in the fucking hell is this woman telling her clients?
You see, I understand the basics. I really do. I also see that my situation and me personally – my shit is severely complicated because the way I was raised in this hellish torture and abuse. It was vast and also tremendously complicated. Anytime that violence occurs it is a bad thing. My experience with violence has not been a quick trip to hell and back to safety. I wasn’t attacked only once. I was not attacked by the same person all the time either. It didn’t just happen for a week, a month or a year. I was sold and I was raped by men and women – as many as 16 a night (sometimes 5 nights a week) before I was ten years old. I was sold for three nights to a man who paid for me with a piano that I was forbidden to play on for a few years… then when I was older the piano my body salaried for was given to another.
I have been beaten, stabbed, drugged, raped, betrayed, impregnated, had children inside me murdered, been burned, and forced to participate in these same things forced upon others. I have seen people killed and burned… and none of that is the heavy shit!!!…….
Believe it or not I am very well aware that NONE of this is normal
and NONE of this is going to be mended with any kind of quick fix. I KNOW THAT!!
A simple “just pray” and/or unsolicited advice from well-intentioned but unreservedly uncomplicated people -who would rather choose to belittle me for my ‘seemingly never ending’ questions, instead of trying to understand what I am saying – seems to me right now, as a whole, quite pathetic and violating in its own right! This too adds to my anguish while confirming my isolation and gives more reality for me that I am aberrant, so consequently I am to be locked within the four corners of my mind – worthy of nothing and wanted by no one.
For society to accept my experience and me as a person, I get it, is too much.
For me to bear alone is the same.
As you know, Trust is NOT something that I come by easily. I don’t trust anyone fully! The direct and barefaced truth is I don’t think that I even know how to do it.
When I say that I want to die, that I am ready to give up this is what I am saying:
“It is too fucking awkward for me right now! My emotions will not behave, (as I have been taught to keep them behaving,) and have become terrifying and daunting monsters. The pain from these unruly emotions, with my experience, is toxic and seems to be poisoning in my heart. What feels like a slow torturous immanent death, would be relieved if I could only be strong enough, brave (?) enough, ‘good girl’ enough to fucking execute myself in a proper and honorably scrupulous – upfront way. Precisely as an obedient daughter ought-to-do, right?”
Just because I talk about this stuff does not mean that I want anyone to save me. Jesus already did that, so because of that, in the end I will be just fine. Do you want to know what I really want? I just want friends. People I can hang out with and talk and joke and laugh with. Mutual respect for mutual respect – nothing more. I want friendship without fear of murder and intense manipulation or forced masculinity and/or femininity. I wanna be free to be me!!!
I know what I can do as far as finding a place to live and a vehicle, that shit is fucking basic and oddly unsophisticated! I don’t need anyone to do it for me!! If I decide to do it, I will be the one to do it. In the same breath I also admit that doing all of this carries infinitely more than just a simple hint that this too will be a waste of time. Violence has not left me alone and I am realizing more and more as the days pass how they are getting around their promises and their covenants that they have made to me. (It isn’t just that they want me to kilI myself. No, they also want me to hate, and be angry, and if possible hurt other people… ben-jou-min told me that knowing me as they do, if I get angry and am mean to someone – because of who I have become and all of their trainings… killing myself would be justified and I would need no one’s permission after that. OR if I did not take my life I could be so angry and shamed that I would finally give in and fasten myself to them once and for all. You know what? He is absolutely right!) Since it isn’t over, and my head and heart are at odds; add to this the fact that my physical disposition is not armature nor clever anymore – What is there to hope for?
I am not saying that there isn’t hope! I am saying that I don’t know where it is, or how to hold on to it. I know how to do the grown-up stuff that takes no emotion and relies on timing, (for example pay bills, dr appointments, etc,). But that is only the constitutionality of it all. It is too simplistic and for me is NOT hopeful and NOT in any way a form of happiness. I have done it. I have done it many many times. It does not seem a new great adventure to me. I’m jaded and apathetic and this combination frightens me because it leaves me in despair.
Knowing that it does steal what hope I seem to want to have, I try to look at it from other perspectives. I think of Narawa and wonder how she might look at the situation. I can feel her excitement about the prospect of getting a car, and driving it. Feeling a possibility for a comfortable living space, unwatched by a hovering ‘caregiver.’ Calli would look for the colors in the place, and she would trace the designs with her gaze memorizing each of the corners and curves. Because of symbolism taught in her time, Notti would be sure to place her hand in dye and use her print as a signature on a spot in the new place as her own. Julia would adore the freedom and independence of living on her own. Symentha would be the protector, as best she could, and Sis d would tuck everyone in at night and sing them a song for tenderness and sweet dreams. These are the ambitions that are still architected within me. Each time another start is eminent I feel all of these things. I habitually deny the facts. I have only hoped with an eager and ample helping of excessive optimism. If that were not true, how could I still be here? Being excited and aware at the same time that torture and death were on your doorstep seems to destroy any trace of hope. Indeed the hope is exterminated.
I cannot deny the bastardly defecations anymore. The truth is still the truth. If you sprinkle powdered sugar on manure that does not change the shit into something I would want to eat. That is the same to me as someone saying to me “pray” and your problems will (fill in the blank with floofy promises and absurd niceties). It is ludicrous to me. I have prayed, in fact I still pray….. But, I understand that the type of protection that others believe in, that I hoped for for a long time IS NOT there. In my experience being true to this Higher Power has to do with the protection of your heart. Physically I have not been protected, by anyone. But, my heart has been protected all my life. Not from heartache, but from becoming hurtful, vengeful, spiteful, and hateful of others.
Having an oddly wide range of unfamiliar emotions and also not knowing how to properly address them and express them is colossally uncomfortable. I am doing my damndest, (I laugh and cry considerably more than I ever have before) if I am never going to go beyond this point … if this phase has to be repeated and repeated… and I am still alone, and still pursued, and the consequences are the same – what kind of life is that?
Live in fear and live alone until you die?
Then why put off death?
For fear that some god will send me to hell for some evangelical eternity that I don’t even honestly believe in? There are more than 1 way to the top of a mountain… and I do not have to get there the same way that you do. I do not subscribe to the opinion that getting to God is a one way and a one way only kind of thing. Many have told me that my beliefs are not Biblical and that I am under the influence of an evil spirit. Isn’t it interesting to see how a distinctive and diverse idea can give birth, in some, to an unenlightened and boorish scorn towards the idea and also the bearer of it. Humans are creatures of habit, but that does not excuse arrogance and is no justification for ignorance.
I understand that I just need to work through it… and at my own pace. I am still hopeful (fucking retardedly so) that there is hope.
Being told the same thing over and over again even using different words – feels a lot like some of the violence I have been enduring. Dangerous people can use popular and positive methods for their purposes and this spreads confusion and heartache. I ask questions to get the specific answers to those questions. If every fucking GODDAMN answer you give me is ‘just pray’ then why the hell would I wanna talk to you about anything ever again? Pray, seriously?