TF wrote:
Indeed.
Pleeease TF,
this isn’t sexism.
Oh good, I knew it was borderline, but since you have a vagina, you instantly know if it’s sexist or not. Good thing I passed, and am not a sexist.
No, MagsJy, not Mad Man P though I do like him a lot. Our blatant flirtations in here for a long while were nothing more than game playing. It was enjoyable but neither of us took it seriously. If I had ever began to feel that he was taking it seriously, I would have stopped because I like him that much.
IF this is the way in which you took what mannequin said, then you’re not as sharp as I thought you were, Trixie.
A woman with children - who values them, and who IS looking for a husband and a surrogate father for her children will want something much more than sexual pleasure. She will also be very observant and careful where the man, a man , is concerned.
What makes me boring to YOU, Trixie?
Shieldmaiden,
I’m not quite the sensitive little flower as some in here make me out to be though I do have my moments of course. It’s all part of a greater process. There are always residuals lingering and depending on the individual, some processes are longer and some are shorter or perhaps they never end really.
But I do appreciate your understanding. If I could have had a different kind of life, yes, I would have wished for it. But in a way, I have to say, and I don’t mean this to sound arrogant, the life I had did mold me into the person I am now and am continuing or becoming, and so, on the other side of that coin, I can’t really say that I would have wished for anything different. It was my life and I can affirm that. I would be denying a very important part of my own existence in not affirming that.
But why do you say that I’m sensitive? I’m not discounting my own sensitivity, but there are many in here who are. They may just show it differently. Some are more honest about feeling hurt when someone has thrown painful words at them; others get angry and suppress it, hide it… et cetera.
But as I believe I said in my post, on some level, a high one, I’m actually grateful NOW that I landed up in the orphanage. There was a time when I would say “There but for the grace of God go I.” (don’t believe that anymore). Who knows what would have happened to me had I not spent all of those years in the orphanages. I am the adult child of an alcoholic and as such, it could have gone either way for me had I lived with my mother growing up. So in one way, I was protected and shielded all of that time away from her…shielded from her. When I got out, I came to realize gradually the kind of life that I might have had because living with her for awhile could be a living hell - til I left. Living with an alcoholic or not living with one can be a living hell, depending on how much control we allow them. I am also a firm believer in learning from the mistakes of others rather than our own though we can’t help but do that also. Despite the fact that I have that disease running through my veins and DNA, I learned not to become an alcoholic, to change that pattern for myself and my children.
Despite my inner experiences and some of my outer experiences in these places, I could say that it could have been a lot worse though at times it did feel that way. I actually returned to re-visit the second place and discovered that it had been closed down. I found a window open and so I “trespassed”.lol My erroneous thinking was that it had been my “home” and no one was going to keep me from exploring it. I went in carefully. Had to be sure no one was there. Walked all around the place. It was as if I was seeing it for the very first time. In a way I was since my perspective had changed and I had somewhat changed. It was my home, more than I had ever before experienced that, and I discovered that for me, it was in a way where my "roots’ began though on one level I realize that that wasn’t true. All children need to have roots.
I found the two places which had been the most important to me, and sanity saving, the chapel and the library. They felt almost precious to me and as I walked through them, I found myself caressing the walls. Now that might sound silly but really it wasn’t. Those were some really healing moments for me. When I was finished exploring, I went outside and walked through the apple orchard and up to where the playground was. There were times when I had “kitchen detail” when I would sneak out the back door after everyone including the nun would leave and I’d go up to the playgound and sit and look up at the stars. Those were the times when I wasn’t afraid to be myself, to show myself, for who I was - and the times when I was in the library and chapel alone.
I don’t know how many of the children there felt. Maybe some felt the same way I did. We all came from different experiences so perhaps we felt things “differently”. I was extremely sensitive in those years and I didn’t really have much self-esteem either. I did actually consider myself to be no more than so much “excess baggage”. When a child grows up feeling abandoned and sensing that they are not capable of inspiring love or caring in the people who ought to feel that way about them, their sense of self may be next to nothing - depending on the child.
I was intelligent enough to realize that on one level, there were people who cared about me, about us - the people running the orphanages and our caretakers but somehow it’s not the same though.
Just as a little tidbit, I ran away from there once, one night, with a few other girls. We didn’t get very far, just down the hill, and the authorities came and picked us up and brought us back. Were there consequences, there sure were. lol We got whacked on our bare derrières with a paddle. Then we were made to stand in front of everyone and we were basically told that our reputations were ruined and that we were all bad girls. lol This is true. But I suppose that even in that there was caring.
But I can’t really paint a horrible picture. I had good times, happy times also.
They did their best to give us the most normal life that we could have and I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that it might have been much more normal than the life of many who were not at the orphanages. I wouldn’t lose sight of those moments either. There is a strong sense of amor fati for my earlier life.
Really, when you think about, it is the same with many children. It’s very difficult at times to be one’s self, for children and even for adults to be their selves. We all need a safe place where we can go to do that - whether that’s an inner place or an outer place.
So, when I look back, I can be really grateful that I was where I was. Sure, I can be sensitive and I can be weak but I can also be extremely strong. I can feel hurt and cry - after all I am human. Sometimes it might be a good idea to downplay that but not with self I don’t think.
The thing is not to make ourselves victims and scapegoats while at the same time perhaps also not throwing those same sticks and stones back at those who throw them at us. But I think it’s a balancing act and I also find it to be very interesting at times learning how to regulate ourselves with ourselves and with others.
Too much sharing I think.
Everything you say is boring and predictable. We don’t play games, we don’t watch movies, all we do is read Arcsies’ Chicken Soup for the Soul posts. Imagining having to read no books other than Chicken Soup for the Soul books for years.
I dont wanna be a surrogate father or a surrogate mother to anybody’s kids. It makes me feel uncomfortable. You and Mannequin are both dense for thinking that. You are also dense for thinking I want to be your man, I told you androgeny and hermaphrodism is key. I will be your hermaphrodite, but not your man.
I will be the “cool kid” around the block to your kids, teach them a few things, someone they look up to. But being a step parent, its not fair and it’s not right. Im not cool with that.
Who told you to read my posts, Trixie? Is someone putting a gun to your head?
Explain to me how my posts are like Chicken Soup for the Soul - although I wouldn’t necessarily find that to be such a bad thing unless that’s the only thing that one read.
I don’t know but just a question here, Trixie. If you do find me to be so predictable, is it possible that it’s because you might be somewhat like me…in some ways?
You know, sometimes our beliefs lead us to see things which aren’t there.
You believe I’m predictable; ergo, all you see in me is predictability. You’ve already set the stage in a way and the result comes from that.
Now, if you would give up that notion for a minute or two and lose your belief, this illusion of yours, that seems to be written in stone, you might begin to see something different when you read me.
Of course, truth be told, many of us can at times be predictable but trust me when I say this - you hardly know me at all just as I hardly know you.
You’re like some of the meteorologists predicting the weather, based only on what can be seen never on what cannot be seen.
I don’t read most your posts, I just skim through it until I find something you say that isn’t boring (which is rare).
I didnt bother to combine the blocks until this morning. It was then I realized you were predictable, though I deeply knew it all along. I dont really know you that well, true, because I need to read faces and you never posted your beautiful self on the Post an Image of yourself yet. The causal order is, I didnt form the belief until after I observed the pattern, pattern being I generally realized that reading your posts was rather dull.
Trixie, I wasn’t speaking about you and neither was mannequin.
I was speaking in a universal sense.
I don’t know where that impression of yours came from, Trixie. I never ever intuited or felt that.
Aw, you’re so sweet, Trixie. Thanks for the offer. We can be friends though.
Just wondering though, how does a hermaphrodite be a woman’s hermaphrodite?
By doing hermaphrodite things.
Don’t know what hermaphrodite things might be.
In this modern world, Trixie, women fight fires and men are tailors.
I suppose we could go to a bookstore and look at pictures in the kama sutra, laugh and talk girl talk.
I could probably get both sides of the same picture from you. That would be highly interesting to me.
Or we might climb a tree together, sit on a strong branch and do needlepoint.
So, what are hermaphrodite things?
Haven’t thought of it yet. I am a very boring person.
One man’s meat is another man’s poison, Trixie.
We don’t all share the same interests.
I’d rather stay away from a man’s meat, as well as his poison.
Thats right Trixie, I can see our talks are finally going somewhere. With just a little more time and effort, and you’ll be ready to re-enter the closet.
Closets just amplify the darkness.