So how many baptists, evangelical and many other Christian denominations have we seen praying (laying on of hands) for others, where the person receiving the prayers has a verbal, physical type response in their faith? Many. Yet Pope Francis does the same and people jump to the extreme saying he was giving an exorcism? Less assumptions people. It’s assumptions that show ignorance.
The moments, expanses of time between where you were and where you should be. The lows. The voids. The empty caverns of existence when confusion takes a greater precedence than understanding.
This is me.
Filler, in-between, life line. Call it what you find comfort in naming it. The label doesn’t matter, it doesn’t change the course or purpose.
This is me.
You feel as if it’s the end. It isn’t. After some time your path converges out of darkness and stumbles into a new reality. New beginnings, renewed pasts with fresh eyes, either or both.
This is me.
The in-between to keep you above the crashing waves of doubt and despair when you are unable, unwilling and not ready to be. Until that person or place that is who is meant to be comes to take over.
I remain behind.
I used to scuff the palms of my hands, and my knees when I’d fall on the playground. I tended to trip over my own feet most days I swear. My friends would gasp and help me up insisting I see the school secretaries for bandages.
That fact never changed as I grew, we just named me a klutz and kept on.
The scuffs on my knees and elbows grew worse with age because I grew more clamourous in my falls. By this time I’d wince and try to laugh it off so not to warrant a fuss.
High school, I’d grown more agile on my feet; though teenage stupidity also known as daring acts took place. Trust me when I say flipping on a swing is best left to the smaller younger ages.
Now the blood that ran that day did earn me a gasp from friends, quickly replaced by boastful laughs and cackles. I chuckled through tears to brush off the pain.
Now I imagine this all seems rather trivial or unimportant. Bare with me as I link the pattern of mine and my peers reactions to my now adult point of view.
Instead of tripping onto the ground, we don’t see the cuts, bruises and scars. As adults we gained our feet. But in gaining our feet we lost our compassion. We are more concerned with bashing someone emotionally than building them up. Crossing our words six ways to Sunday to crack someone who for being different, or in a better position than ourselves. It’s ridiculous.
And a lot of us keep the pattern from childhood. We try to smile through it. Grin and bare the pain. Silently feeling how the words cause more pain than the ground ever did.
It’s time to find the compassion that was left behind. We wonder why kids are so badly bullied today, truth is its always been around. Media makes it more knowledgeable. Resources and depravity of society make the acting out more sadistic. It all boils down to how kids see adults reacting and acting.
Bullying doesn’t have an age cap, it doesn’t a minimum. But it can stop. If every person makes an effort to stop themselves from reducing themselves to become a bully. Choice is always there, we have free will.
I this morning finished watching Cosmopolis and not maybe three days prior finished reading an adaptation of Shakespeare’s Hamlet.
I couldn’t help not to draw a similarity between the two characters. We see Eric in a state of power. Economical, business type as well as socially. Hamlet has a political by state of his standing as a Prince of Denmark. Of course his social status is a powerful one as well.
There inlays just the start of their similarities. There is a consistent reminder through both plots of a murderous nature. Eric faces it with a dismissive and yet fascinated query disguised I feel by his consistent questions directing our attention elsewhere. Hamlet of course is subject to the mouth that he carries with fever. He faces his with an arrogance. Both men ultimately find the fortune or misfortune depending your empathy for their characters in the final acts.
My draw to both characters I feel is the way they carry themselves above so many, yet they almost are subtly seeking so much approval in a sense from each that they come in contact with. To continue to elevate them over the person they are in contact with. Each journey to face a past experience or connection with their father. Eric through his seat in the barber shop, the spark for the ride across town that inevitably brings him to face his aggressor. Hamlet through his ostentatious way battles to prove his father’s demise at the hand of the wicked uncle that has institutionally taken place as his step-father.
Even though both these men carried themselves with such a self-involved, almost ignorant nature. They both were quite fragile in the state of their inner self worth if all they had was to fall at their feet.
I have absolutely no patience or tolerance to ignorance and blunt bullshit anymore. If you think attacking someone from behind a facade like, Twitter, Tumblr or similar is making you great, think again.
It makes you out for the petulant mardy child that you come across as. Social media is not an excuse to be a raging bitch. If you can’t handle what life has given to someone else and not you, suck it up and put your big girl panties on because the world isn’t a fair place. There are even people worse off than yourself who wish they had what you do or could be what you are.
So either grow a pair and actually properly like a full grown adult discuss your issues with the person you have a problem with, otherwise take a turn from a graceful notion of manners and hold your tongue. Because all it makes you out to be a disrespectful, bully that frankly is an annoyance and irritant to the people who want to use social media for fun and drama free extensions of their lives.
It’s hard to lavish in the success when scars of the past continue to weigh my eyes.
I have thus far lost over 80lbs. Numerous inches.
This past couple days I faced a new battle, whilst shopping for essentials as a woman. Now any mum who breasted or just had large breasts can attest, they loose some of their perkiness.
So with my combination of breast feeding for four months, then massive weight loss; I am left with a chest I loathe.
Now I mean yes bras can always help, but being in my twenties and feeling absolutely ashamed of my naked breasts I am saddened. I used to take a impish pride in them. Yes I know how terrible of me.
I have looked into natural helps light muscle toning etc. sadly they won’t be helped by this. I also do not have $9000.00 to have them lifted.
My abs are strong, firm, but you wouldn’t know by looking at me whilst I hold a plank position for over 60 seconds! Because of the three inches of flabby, saggy skin that hangs by gravity’s heartless bitch grasp.
So when a girl says she still isn’t happy. Don’t take her clothed form into your only account, you may not see her naked; but she does everyday.