Category Quick Jump
Getting to Know Theme, cont.
I guess my purpose is to shine a compassionate light on depression, loneliness, feelings of loss and confusion. My purpose is to state that these states of being will always be with us. In the case of Chernobyl, is there any doubt that lost men and confusion caused the accident? I don’t know if they were depressed and lonely, but surely the accident caused depression and alienation among many, many people who’s lives were destroyed by the whims of a government and officials they had little control over. Does anyone deny them the right to be sad, and alienated? Lost? Confused, if they had been trusting in the basic goodness of other people, as many people around me seem to be?
Why should I not be allowed to be depressed and/or alienated? Why should I be expected to bring lightness and frivolity to meetings and socials? Because I’m fair skinned, blue-eyed and blond? Because I’m tall and thin? Because you think that because I meet the beauty ideal for women, I must have it all? Because I meet that beauty ideal, I must be (imprisoned by) it?
My sadness is me. My sadness is my mother, grandmothers, father and grandfathers – orphaned by World War 1, then terrorized by Hitler. My sadness is for all women who’s natural inclinations towards childcare, body work, dance, textiles, cooking and nurturing are undervalued at the expense of war, weapons and exploitation, lies and mealy-mouthed truths.
My sadness comes from the loneliness of wanting to believe and believe in people, yet hearing lies day in day out and watching the truths I was raised to believe die again and again and again. My sadness comes from being smart, and for that being a sin, somehow.
Hrm. So I guess these bad feelings are like bad flavours: signs that I might want to avoid this food or consume it in small amounts or in concert with other foods. And if I’m to avoid these feelings…it’s the old double-edged sword. I cannot ignore them. I have let them point me in a more creative direction than the life I’ve been living. I’ll have to re-embrace my creative side, even if it means a cut in income. Ha, hence the eternal sadness as I never measure up to the men, in terms of pure earning power and the ability to sustain a family.
And why would I want to be able to live without a man, you ask? Prolly because of my mom. She really disliked my dad. (She really disliked herself.). Life as a wife and mother, she taught me, sucks so bad it’s almost better to be dead. Almost, but not quite because suicide meant Hell. So she remained alive, crying, screaming, kicking and crying again. Blaming dad for her misery, and the farm. Sigh, the isolation of the farm – that was probably her biggest issue, yet one she was nigh helpless to address. Six children, cows to milk, neighbours who could barely understand her because of her accent. A family that had used her for the money she could bring in, or as a nanny from the age of twelve. A beautiful, high-spirited and intelligent young woman forced to do housework and childcare – for eternity. No status, no challenges, no novelty, no appreciation. Is it any wonder she was half insane? (She’d violently protest that last sentence, if she read it.)
Describing my theme is hard work. I guess my writing should describe, but not reflect the theme.
Links of Fondness :
Machine Biscuits :