Our Year Of Living (Beautifully) Without WalMart

Thursday, June 19, 2008

girlfight

(originally posted april 21, 2008)

i am just exasperated by this girls beating up the other girl story. i am just depressed by it. depressed to the point of numb.

i am scared by it, as i am by many things in the world today.

i feel though that there isn't much i can do except to guard and protect over my own children. to make sure that i never slack up on knowing what they are doing and who they are. i cannot see any other way than hypervigilance with my children. granted, i am a bit lax when they are in my own home, but it is very difficult for me to imagine sending them out into the world with the way "things" are today.

it is very difficult for me to send sebastian to school. it is better since we moved. at his old school children went so far as to "tease" (bully) him about his father's death, let alone our poverty and the old favorite, weight. but things seem to be going better now and i do my best to muster up my inner resources and pay attention each and every day to his experience at school and his emotional reaction to the day, to the other children, and the social "stimulation". i know i couldn't homeschool him, and i sometimes regret that (especially if i am "radical" enough by the time the babies go to school to do it, or provide tutors, or an alternative to public school education.

i am afraid of the world, and rightly so, in my opinion. i was programmed for the first 18 years of my life with a terrible impression of the world and the people in it. i was bullied by children, by teachers, and by the relentless pity and disgust of the adults i came into contact with for the first half of my entire life, so far.

so i chose obliviousness of the "world's ways", i suppose. first through the drug culture and then through my own self-absorbed mindgames. i just cannot bear to look outward into the world. i don't know if i am just too weak for it, too impressionable...i read a great thing the other day. a woman was saying how she always felt when her son was young that she had to protect him more because he was "easily corruptible".! imagine a mother being able to have the guts and sight and nerve to say that about her own child! it was a very freeing sentence for me to read.
and i called my best friend right away. i said to her "that word that we have been looking for all these years to describe what has been 'wrong' with us...that word is corruptible" and we just flew like birds on the hearing of those words. imagine the duality of that word and you can possibly get a glimpse of the duality inside myself that i am thinking of. it really is a good root word to describe my madness, on many levels.

corruptible- that which has the possibility of being corrupted, that which may decay and perish.
the iron gate needs only to be breathed upon and it can rust.

i have a hugely difficult time paying attention to the corruption in the world (and it is pretty complete, at this point, in my opinion) because i am "easily corruptible". it is sooooo easy for me to "go bad" to "feel BAD" for me to get "rusted away" with the acidic nature of the world's evil.
much easier than me to be "overcome by the world's good" (ha!)

where is the world's good?

sure i know there is some good, so i cling to it. i savor the very simplest things. the very smallest treasures in my children, home, sight, sound, taste, touch, smell, in nature...
because it is stacked up against an inferno of "corruption" in my mind. one that is eaten away by stories of teenagers beating each other and cutting themselves and having 100,000 dollar birthday parties and all sorts of other atrocities. a mind that is absolutely flaked apart by the chipping away of the negative media, one that has drowned in the tsunami of consumerism, and left to rust with speculation.

Left to be corroded by thoughts of the end of the world, of a fear of hell, of uncertainty, depression, the challenges of mothering , of spiritual warfare, of poverty, of underacheiving, of politics and the battle for the souls of the populace, of apathy, of shock at the state of the outside world, paralysis that makes me unable to do a damn thing about it, just be eaten alive as i sit.

I will never understand the evil of the outside world, for even when i am directly confronted with it i have to run away. I have to stand there and get beaten, because if i were to hit back it would kill me. I think depressing things so the rest of the world can think of other things.
inside of all of this, though i have a little flower of hope. the fragilest flower. one that cannot even be tended to or it would be destroyed by the help. it can merely be looked at in wonderment, admired for its tiny, colorful fragility.

my love of my children, my attempts at loving my husband, my friendships with the few people i have allowed into my life, my efforts at caring about my wider family, my love of seeing beauty, my almost hedonistic abandon to experience the simple pleasures of life, my wobbly spirituality....all of these things sustain me.

all of these few things (and all of the beauty in the world) stack a nice little pile of gifts for me to sit amongst, trying to avoid the inevitable encroachments of the evil in the world beyond my own limited experience.

i conclude this (nutjobmcspazzatron) writing with a quote i found by charles dickens...it was ok.

"He saw that men who worked hard, and earned their scanty bread with lives of labour, were cheerful and happy; and that to the most ignorant, the sweet face of Nature was a never-failing source of cheerfulness and joy. He saw those who had been delicately nurtured, and tenderly brought up, cheerful under privations, and superior to suffering, that would have crushed many of a rougher grain, because they bore within their own bosoms the materials of happiness, contentment, and peace. He saw that women, the tenderest and most fragile of all God's creatures, were the oftenest superior to sorrow, adversity, and distress; and he saw that it was because they bore, in their own hearts, an inexhaustible well-spring of affection and devotion. Above all, he saw that men like himself, who snarled at the mirth and cheerfulness of others, were the foulest weeds on the fair surface of the earth; and setting all the good of the world against the evil, he came to the conclusion that it was a very decent and respectable sort of world after all."

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