The hustle culture and grind do not appeal to me. When I worked corporate gigs, I forced myself to make fast decisions. Don’t get me wrong, some worked out great, some disastrous. I guess that’s the culture right? Not for me anymore. That bothers some people in my life. That I don’t do fast.
I don’t want transactional relationships with my adult children, the concept of look what I've done for you feels smarmy and manipulative to me. It always has. Even when my kids were little I talked to them with respect and like they were evolving humans not some automatons I was training to be like me. Not so for their father. His approach was violence, control, and that his wildly violent and dysfunctional family was the model. Sadly and clearly, his model was the loudest and under the life of fear he built in them, it took hold and the concept of transactional relationships is at the core of his existence.
My children and I are in different phases of our perspectives and perceptions of one another’s lives, health, progress. They are in a phase of being furious with me taking back control of my life in a way they are not in agreement with. They might be stuck in seeing me in the ways I have reacted to them over the Dark Decade, so it’s understandable we are not on the same page.
They might be waiting to see me fail thanks to their father’s model. They are not able to love me unconditionally in this moment of our lives.
This moment in our country’s history has taken be even deeper into this life of healing, becoming unapologetically myself in all ways - including speaking out about the horrors donthecon is wreaking on us. He’s a symptom. He’s the tumor lurking undiagnosed for decades and now causing systemic collapse. He is a russian asset. He is a puppet. He is vile, violent, corrupt. He is weak. In a decimating twist he is the gaslighter telling us we are not sick as the pus oozes from our wounds. My children’s father reveres that vile approach because he approaches life the same way donthecon does-transactionally.
It’s why survivors of domestic violence understand what’s happening in the United (divided) States right now. We see a portion of the population giving pass after pass after pass to violent, vile, white men who tell us to our faces they hate us, own us, will kill us and have no interest in equity or kindness toward us.
Misogynistic white men kill wantonly and are arrested injury free while ICE follows illegal demands blindly, politicians lick the shit stained boots of a butt hurt wannabe dictator. Whatever the main street media is in this moment abdicates its duty to report and instead bends a knee. Meanwhile the Sandra Blands, Breonna Taylors, Ta’Kiya Youngs, Philando Castiles, George Floyds, Jacob and Mario Romeros, Doğukan Günaydins, Rumeysa Ozturks are severed from their families, some dead, some in limbo, some may not ever be thought of again while we are told they were at fault for their own kidnappings or murders and the cops who kidnapped or murdered them are free to do so to others.
The Dark Decade taught me that Daughter will be abusive in stressful times and may have yet to face her own demons, has chosen to cut me out of her life and not benefit from my experience. Maybe it’s out of fear at the moment. Maybe she truly believes the rage filled outbursts she hurls at me any time we connect. Sadly, I believe part of it might be internalized misogyny. We don’t connect in positive ways. Her view might be that I have nothing to offer her.
The Dark Decade taught me how influential Daughter is to her brothers. I kind of love that except the hating on mom part. The Dark Decade taught me the truth of being able to deeply love an adult child who is harmful toward you. I knew this as a young mom with kids who would have angry outbursts, but it is a different experience altogether with an adult child because; shocker; they have learned all of the shitty techniques I have brought to the table out of my own rage at their violent domestic abuser father and my own deeply dysfunctional family of origin. Not to mention all the deeply disturbing subtly effective techniques of their father. Why wouldn’t I have compassion for them?
The Dark Decade taught me discernment. There will be times when someone will ask me: if you can have compassion for the way your children have treated you why can’t you have compassion for their father who they say is a changed person? I have two answers for this question:
1-He chose violence and now blames his failure on his own mother and has never taken responsibility for the trauma he has caused
2-My choice of who I have in my life is my choice
It’s as simple as that.
As I heal and grow in maturity, my soul continues to settle into what is has been meant to become. I love that. I hope these writings and shared experiences helps someone else. I hope they help my kids. I hope the shed light to my grandkids in the future.
The point is I have hope now and I haven’t had hope in me for many many years. I love it and welcome it back because it is a beautiful thing to behold.
Thanks for reading, talk to you soon.