Life on a stick (it sucks)
Watching Jeff Dunham and his buddy Walter, who says he loves the coffee-shops in Amsterdam. "I'll have a latte and a doobie and 19 dozen doughnuts thank you." Sorry Walter, but 'those' coffee-shops don't actually sell coffee.
Anyway.
Lately it's hard to write about what's going on. Writing is so definite, makes things more real. Can't get around them.
Oh wait, it's Achmed, I love Achmed.
He's such a diva.
Right.
One thing I can't seem to accept is that life hurts and I can't protect my sister and her kids from pain. Physical pain is another thing that still scares me. But that first one is tearing me apart at times and this is one of those times.
My mind has a voice that says: 'if only'. If only is a dangerous dude. Visits all the time, comes in through the back-door and won't leave when you tell him he's pointless.
I've somewhat accepted my own mental pain, fear, sorrow and grief, just not that part where it comes to my sister and her kids. Not them. Like any other person I try not to mock, I think "if only they could be alright, they would be happy, then I could live my life like I'm supposed to. Only then can I get on with it."
Oh my God, Achmed is killing me.
It's mostly worry and doom scenarios. It's not the first time.
There've been times when I thought that everything would be a whole lot easier if my entire family died in a plane crash (something painless). No ties, no feelings of responsibility and despair, no endless days, nights of worrying myself sick, literally, crying myself to sleep.
Of course this is part of life, but why my life? (Trying to break it down.)
I can't. That part in the (third?) book where Jed talks about the man who slams a baby into a wall, and how magnificent that is.. I can't.
It horrifies me when I read it, when I think about it, when I try to look at it in a different way. I can't see it, experience it like that.
I don't see the beauty in things like that. I can't even look at clips on tv about animal abuse, or children in pain.
I want to show my sister every way in which she's ruining her kids, preparing them and especially the girl for a life of trauma, aggression, self-abuse. Yes, me, the one without kids. Tell a kid she's too fat and feed her candy. Teach them to hate their father, father bad, aggression funny. Child abuse for the win.
The one good thing I did for my kid is not having it. It would have had a horrible life, as crushing as mine has been, excruciatingly painful, desperate, terrifying. I die inside when I see what those kids are going through and what they will have to go through later because of what they learn now. If I had a kid of my own I wouldn't have been able to handle it. It would kill me, or I would kill me.
All part of life, right? Screw life. A mediocre life where the biggest worries would be whether I'd make it to that fancy dinner on time, or a flat tyre, yes please, that would be nice. THERE ARE PEOPLE WITH LIVES LIKE THAT. Oh my, a bad hair day. "If anyone sees me with my hair like this I'll just die!!!" "I screwed my secretary on her desk and now the big boss doesn't want to extend my contract, that's so unfair!" (This is a true story by the way, of an acquaintance, that's how oblivious loads of people are of real problems and to a little thing called taking responsibility for your own actions.)
I don't know how to accept these things. This is life. I know, I realise, but maybe I don't, I don't know. How can I?
Anyway.
Lately it's hard to write about what's going on. Writing is so definite, makes things more real. Can't get around them.
Oh wait, it's Achmed, I love Achmed.
He's such a diva.
Right.
One thing I can't seem to accept is that life hurts and I can't protect my sister and her kids from pain. Physical pain is another thing that still scares me. But that first one is tearing me apart at times and this is one of those times.
My mind has a voice that says: 'if only'. If only is a dangerous dude. Visits all the time, comes in through the back-door and won't leave when you tell him he's pointless.
I've somewhat accepted my own mental pain, fear, sorrow and grief, just not that part where it comes to my sister and her kids. Not them. Like any other person I try not to mock, I think "if only they could be alright, they would be happy, then I could live my life like I'm supposed to. Only then can I get on with it."
Oh my God, Achmed is killing me.
It's mostly worry and doom scenarios. It's not the first time.
There've been times when I thought that everything would be a whole lot easier if my entire family died in a plane crash (something painless). No ties, no feelings of responsibility and despair, no endless days, nights of worrying myself sick, literally, crying myself to sleep.
Of course this is part of life, but why my life? (Trying to break it down.)
I can't. That part in the (third?) book where Jed talks about the man who slams a baby into a wall, and how magnificent that is.. I can't.
It horrifies me when I read it, when I think about it, when I try to look at it in a different way. I can't see it, experience it like that.
I don't see the beauty in things like that. I can't even look at clips on tv about animal abuse, or children in pain.
I want to show my sister every way in which she's ruining her kids, preparing them and especially the girl for a life of trauma, aggression, self-abuse. Yes, me, the one without kids. Tell a kid she's too fat and feed her candy. Teach them to hate their father, father bad, aggression funny. Child abuse for the win.
The one good thing I did for my kid is not having it. It would have had a horrible life, as crushing as mine has been, excruciatingly painful, desperate, terrifying. I die inside when I see what those kids are going through and what they will have to go through later because of what they learn now. If I had a kid of my own I wouldn't have been able to handle it. It would kill me, or I would kill me.
All part of life, right? Screw life. A mediocre life where the biggest worries would be whether I'd make it to that fancy dinner on time, or a flat tyre, yes please, that would be nice. THERE ARE PEOPLE WITH LIVES LIKE THAT. Oh my, a bad hair day. "If anyone sees me with my hair like this I'll just die!!!" "I screwed my secretary on her desk and now the big boss doesn't want to extend my contract, that's so unfair!" (This is a true story by the way, of an acquaintance, that's how oblivious loads of people are of real problems and to a little thing called taking responsibility for your own actions.)
I don't know how to accept these things. This is life. I know, I realise, but maybe I don't, I don't know. How can I?
posted by M. at 12:40 AM
1 Comments:
I doubt that Jed McKenna said how magnificent that baby incident was. In fact, as I recall it he had been debating putting in something to do with the horrors in the Universe, but upon reading that article in the press he decided to go ahead with what he'd been undecided about. He was never about glorifying any particular thing as I recall.
All the best to you.
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