bouldersandbrews: (Agrias - Quiet Determination)
MckMama is making me think. I've been thinking about her and her baby all day.

I couldn't do it.

Be as strong as she's being. I know my limitations, I know my faults and weaknesses and strengths, and I know perfectly well that I just could not do what she's doing.

Her faith astounds me. That someone could believe in God that much...

Don't get me wrong. I believe in God, I always have. Ask my kindergarten teacher. I have different ideas about God and religion than most people, and my relationship with my father has influenced my perception of Him, but I certainly believe in Him.

But to keep such strong faith in Him throughout a huge trial such as this... it boggles my mind.

God is merciful. God is merciful in ways we often can't comprehend.

It's like those math word puzzles we got in fifth grade. "Jimmy and Susie go to the candy store with a dollar apiece. Licorice sticks are fifteen cents, gummy bears are ten cents, lollipops are twenty five cents, and chocolate bars are thirty five cents. How much change would Jimmy get back if he bought ten jawbreakers?" And one of the choices would be "Not enough information". (Those were always my favorite word problems, by the way.)

I don't have all the information to understand why God does and/or allows different things in my life.

I'm thinking about the Raisin. I don't know why I miscarried. I don't understand why it happened, what benefit it serves (because God works all things together for good)... all I know is that it happened.

I know that God isn't cruel. I know that He knows what He's doing, even if I don't.

I don't know exactly what I'm trying to say, using a million words to say what ten might say, if I only knew them. This of course causes me to fumble through every word in the English language and make sense of none of them, when what I really should do is go find something to eat after deleting this entire entry.

But I won't.

Well, I might go get something to eat.
bouldersandbrews: (Agrias - Quiet Determination)
I cannot wait to use a language-modified version of this on someone.

So, getting over stuff. I was thinking about it today, and I'm not done thinking about it, as my idea is still half formed in my mind... but I'm not sure why we put ourselves under so much pressure to get over things that have happened.

I think it's probably societal pressure. Somehow, somewhere along the line, we - women mostly, if not entirely - have felt a need to be tougher, stronger, less emotional, and have tried to respond to it, with most detrimental results.

I think I'll blame women's lib.

I know that in my case, I've felt a need to present myself as strong, tough, capable, competent. "Need" isn't the right word. Pressure isn't, either. "Drive" is closer, but even that doesn't being to describe the desperation behind it. And in order to present myself as strong et cetera, I actually needed to be strong et cetera... which meant getting over things way fast.

Being raped is not something you get over quickly. A rape victim cannot expect herself to just "get over" what happened.

Having a horrifying childhood is not something you get over quickly. The effects from it are long-lasting, if not permanent.

Losing your baby is not something you get over quickly. No parent should outlive their child.

But I feel like I need to "get over" all of these things. I mean, hell, I lost the Raisin almost two months ago, what's my damage? My childhood, what happened with my father, that was twenty-one years ago. What's my freaking deal?

Why am I not over this yet?

I can definitely attest to one thing: not allowing myself to grieve my innocence and my childhood has done me nothing but harm. This is why I'm not over it yet. This is why it still affects me so drastically. I have not allowed myself to grieve. In my efforts to "get over it already", I've instead unwittingly protracted my grieving time.

What time is it? You can always tell it's late when I start using words people will have to go look up.

The Raisin was two months ago. Not quite, but close. Am I crying about it every day? No. In that, I suppose I'm "getting over it". Do I still feel inexplicably sad and lonely at times? Do I still tear up when thinking about or looking at a baby for too long? Do I sometimes wish and wonder? In that, I suppose I'm not over it at all... that I'll never be "over it".

I know a man who lost his teenage son, I dunno, twenty years ago or so. Do you think he's over it? Do you think he hasn't allowed himself to take his time grieving?

Do you think it's silly, or stupid, for him to allow himself to grieve his son?

Why is it silly and stupid for us to do so? Why do we have to be stronger in our pain than men? Why are they allowed to grieve and we aren't?

Why are we forced to present ourselves as strong? Women are the weaker sex. Oh, the women's libbers are going to kick my ass for that one. Well, it's true, they're deluded, and I'm intellectually honest enough to admit that this is true. Women are softer, more emotional. We feel things more intensely, I think. But in our current society, we've created the idea that women need to be stronger, tougher, to be equal with men.

Admitting that women are weaker in some ways is not an admission of inequality.

Striving to be stronger than men is causing so much damage to our minds and spirits. Even if that's not our motivation. It's not mine, not at all. I always thought that this was how it was supposed to be - that women just had to be stronger than they were.

I might be too tired to squeeze anything more coherent out of my brain tonight.

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