Monday, April 7, 2014
From Victim to Victor
It’s late in the day and I am sure some diminutive gremlin is creating the incessant pounding I feel behind my eye, or perhaps it is the residual throb of too much tax forms and not enough sound sleep. Whatever the cause, I am considering banging my head against the nearest hard surface until I’m senseless. It won’t take but a few good thumps to git ‘er done.
For those of you who might have stumbled upon my rant a couple of days ago, be assured (or frustrated) that this is no retraction. It is merely an extension of my thought. As any bovine, I often ruminate and this cud is just too much to pass through the chambers without a bit more cuspid and spit to soften the effect.
If you missed it, and it’s entirely possible that somewhere betwixt the scream of life and your dendrites my attempt at satire zinged through your orbs as anything but and you stalled out on any number of incendiary phrases (again truth is truth and truth is our filters filter according to the lens of emotions and not necessarily what is true.) you may have missed what I intended to convey. Thus the gnaw I feel in my gut to clarify. I suppose being read and misconstrued is second only to being put on perpetual ignore. (I got kids. Ignore happens)
The truth of the day is: my parents were not “mean and selfish” – that phrase was written for effect. Since my father is no longer on this side of the veil and cannot defend himself I felt prompted to be respectful of his memory. My parents were the perfect storm however, and I was often caught in the elements. To be honest though, until I had kids of my own it never registered that their behavior was any different from any other set of parents and perhaps that is part of the reason I didn’t perpetuate most of the insanity. While I wondered “why” for many years, there was a part of me that was cognizant of truth in its simplest forms – right is right and wrong is wrong and I have never been one to live in the gray area so many are happy to taut as “freedom.” If anything I understood the gravity of consequence. I wanted my children to love me and knowing that love is a choice, being reasonable increases the odds.
It sounds cliché but hurt people hurt people. My parents didn’t invent any of the emotional or physical torment inflicted on me either directly or indirectly. It was learned. Passed down from generation to generation until it culminated in what could have been a monster of epic proportions: me. While I make no excuses for their behavior, the more I learn about the trauma of my predecessors, the softer my heart becomes. I am a human after all. The most powerful thing I can do is forgive, and move on. For me, that is the best free will I have at my disposal. I hope that this is my legacy. Truth is, love has the power to take the human heart from victim, to victor. I choose to love my parents. This is my freedom.