Tag Toxic people rarely change

After all the words that hurt where are the words that heal?

Elle Reverie Leave a comment

Words have power and intent matters. The things we say can illicit beautiful and positive emotional responses but, they can also incite violence, hatred and destruction. Words have the strength to motivate, to move hearts and they can, in some instances, change minds. Some say what they think others want to hear, some say nothing in order to avoid confrontation and then, there are those who say whatever the hell they feel like, consequences be damned.

It’s clear that very few minds are changing. Those who felt something is, and always has been, wrong with this country aren’t changing their minds and, those who want the balance of power to tilt firmly and homogeneously, back to the status quo certainly have no intention of changing either. What I see as utter disgusting lunacy comes across as perfectly logical to, in the wise words of REM’s Michael Stipe, “followers of chaos out of control.” Inciting a mob to violence while standing back to watch your handiwork on television is VILE. Not only is it just that but it’s also illegal. This is not normal, this is not okay. We are broken.

Why can’t everyone see the danger we are in?

Because, to some this is exactly what they were hoping for.

I am not afraid to use my words to call out injustice, bigotry, propaganda and blatant LIES. You. Are. Lying! Long ago, I stopped feeling shocked when I heard or read utterly outrageous falsehoods because I quickly grew to understand that those who lie do so for a distinct reason. It’s not without purpose. It’s not, “just because” they can get away with it. The main reason, in my mind, is to cause disorientation brought on by the intense initial outrage. If they can tire the honest, logical and empathetic just enough to create a momentary pause, a window for ill-intent to creep in then they can get away with anything. And, they are. It’s disgusting.

The death of trust is happening now…

Here is where I take a moment to pose a question to the chaos creators; what is it about helping others that you find so abhorrent? I know it isn’t the bullshit argument that, “my tax dollars shouldn’t go towards giving a handout to people too lazy to work,” or the worn out tome, “Socialism is evil”. You are a broken record. None of your dire predictions of doom have or ever will come true but, the part where you are literally willing to overthrow your own government in order to hang onto the limited power afforded simply because of the hue of your skin and your male identity has. Again, it’s disgusting yet, predictable. We knew you would cling tightly to the past, a past that only favored you and your ilk. A past that made good work of trampling anyone exhibiting the determination to create change because, after all, change is exactly what you fear the most.

Change is your kryptonite and, it’s also quite amusing that I’m using a completely fictional substance to describe your true weakness. You are growing weaker by the minute and more desperate, judging by the actions taken on January 6, 2021 so, how will your ultimate downfall occur? Will we all get to watch it on TV or will you just slink back into the shadows to plot the next coup attempt? With a diet comprised of hatred, envy and fear it’s only a matter of time before vital organs shut down and it appears that process has begun given the loose grasp on reality and increasing cognitive impairment. Your belief that you are somehow smarter, stronger and more resilient than those you rage against is an illusion you apparently find great difficulty reconciling with.

Fighting words don’t taste very good do they?

I have written about the absurd notion that those of a more “liberal” mindset are expected to, nay, are duty bound to forgive and forget and be tolerant towards even the most rabid followers of chaos out of control. That’s a big NOPE for me. I am not a fool. And then, the self-proclaimed opposition sneers, “I thought liberals were supposed to be so tolerant! You’re not being tolerant towards me!” To that I reply, who told you I was a liberal and, you really don’t understand the meaning of that word do you? Liberal? Do you mean the Latin word liber (meaning “free”),  or do you mean liberalis, which means “of or constituting liberal arts, of freedom, of a freedman,” which is it? Personally, I believe you mean this: “I can do whatever I want against you or say whatever I want about you and you just have to sit there and take it because I said so!” Again, big NOPE.

https://www.merriam-webster.com/words-at-play/liberal-meaning-origin-history

Getting back to the title of this piece, where are the words that heal? I suppose the best question to ask now is, who needs the most healing? Is it the perpetually marginalized groups in this country or is it the segment that harbors the most animus towards everyone not like them? Ironically enough, those the rage-filled continually strike out against learned long ago how to fortify themselves against unending oppression so, who’s figured out life better? Quick answer, not you! And by healing I mean self-reflection, personal growth, deprogramming and, ultimately re-humanization because I see this part of the population as the most damaged by their own hand, heart and mind. The ravages of life-long putrid hate makes these pitiful patriots almost unrecognizable as any type of former friend when FOE is most consistently written on their name tags. Today, knowing ones enemy has became exponentially easier while also simultaneously mind numbing.

Is this the future you want for yourselves?

I ask because I’ve grown weary of your self-indulgent circle jerk, chock full of worn out excuses.

Shhh…it’s time to learn a new way of existing with purpose rather than just taking up space in the universe. It’s okay, we can help you but there is a caveat; if we help and still get stabbed in the back well, don’t take it too personally when the door is closed on you permanently. It’s the long-time in coming reward you will have justly deserved.

© 2020-2021 L.A. Askew

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to “In the Land of Reverie” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

The story of how. The story of why. The story of me.

Elle Reverie Leave a comment

Typically, I live by the Never Say Never principle but…here are some very critical exceptions:

Never apologize for being who you are.

Never allow someone else to write the story of your life.

Never allow people who continually say hurtful things about you to remain in your orbit.

No one knows the how and why of you…but you. Oh, people may insinuate that they KNOW you and get where you are coming from but unless they inhabit your head-space (if they do then call an exorcist immediately) they have absolutely no fucking idea what they are talking about. You are YOU and they are THEY. Never the twain shall meet.

Unless, of course you want to meet in the middle of the world divide. To come together and talk it out, learning from one another, benefiting from each others wisdom of ages, or compiled mistakes as it were. Whatever gets the job done. Whatever bonds or irrevocably breaks. It’s truly a crap shoot anymore.

Meeting people where they currently mentally and emotionally reside is a tricky proposition. Each day begins with new YOU’RE EITHER ONE OF US OR ONE OF THEM blasts, so much so that I take a hard look at people I was once acquainted with and realize I have grown to dislike what they’ve become. I wonder how I missed the vindictive, paranoid, insecure traits but, then I remember that I knew them as a child or a teenager. My experience of them was merely surface knowledge; I only saw the picture but did not read the book.

Now, in turning each page I recoil. How did such hate grown within the souls of these former pals, buddies, co-workers, classmates, lovers and family members even? The virus of misinformation, the infection or Stockholming, if you will, of people you once were quite fond of creates great pause and a suspicion that the signs were always there, you just missed them. The romanticized dream of the past is finally dead. There will be no resurrection.

Moving on is never easy but, flipping through social media rants, propaganda posts and bile-filled diatribes designed to throw barbs at anyone not in-line with the “party view” removes any guilt when formerly hesitant fingers finally hit the UNFRIEND, BLOCK and BAN buttons. It’s not the same as releasing a guillotine though, sometimes the head keeps talking, posting, tweeting. In those instances the best advice is to walk away with the certainty that those souls are irrevocably lost, forever doomed to wander the land of gaslight and chem-trail fed conspiracies. Khodahafez. Bedrood. Paka Paka. Adios and goodbye! Sigh of relief and close the door.

How did we get here? Many ask this without admitting they, in fact, do not really care. In my estimation I see it as someone pretending to be concerned about the current state of affairs while wringing their hands in calculating glee behind their backs at the chaos brewing outside. Oh, no! How did this happen? Here, drink this poison. It will make you feel better…well, it will make ME feel better. You? Not so much. Do I really care? {Fingers entwine behind back}…sure, sure I care. No, no they don’t.

So, in the spirit of the Never Say Never ballad, yes, believe in it in theory but, in practice…watch your back. Daggers can and will be thrown from all directions. Never forget that.

© 2020 L.A. Askew

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to “In the Land of Reverie” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Happiness grows when you let go…

Elle Reverie Leave a comment

Today I thought about my mother. I haven’t spoken to her in over 2 years and the details as to why have already been addressed so there is no need to rehash that pain.

For those who require a refresher, here you go: The back story for newbies

I thought about how wonderful it would be to share a laugh, a kind smile, anything loving at all with the woman who brought me into the world. Just to pick up the phone and talk about how our collective days are going.

That never was and can never be.

To long for something so simple yet so incredibly impossible to obtain crumbles the soul from the inside out. It’s the kind of gut wrenching agony possibly felt by those who have lost a loved one to illness, old age or even a tragic accident.

I say possibly because I don’t know how those in that situation truly feel, I can only guess so I suppose the better descriptive word would be EMPTY. I feel empty when I think about the loss of something I never even truly had.

The unconditional love of a mother.

I never had that. Conditions always applied. I was required to be quiet, obedient, loyal to my abusers, willing to lie and pretend all was well behind the door of the various run-down houses we lived in. A scarred front row guest with exclusive access to view my very own horror story. It was easy to hide in a small town, a place where airing private dirty laundry in public was strongly frowned upon and obvious abuse was routinely ignored. Your kids, your property!

At one time the knowledge that everything about “us” was wrong hurt me deeply. Seeing others with genuine, loving relationships with their mothers and fathers, laughing together, reminiscing about joyful memories and funny stories. I had a tiny bit of that; the “funny” stories we told, the “editing” of the past to make it seem as if we were normal and not horribly broken. In looking back, the tales we told acted as the smeared, greasy make-up clowns wear to hide the utter despair they feel inside.

Over the years I cataloged all of the pain, all of the dirt, all the grime. I held it in my hands and turned it over and over, composing speeches I should have made, declarations of outrage to those guilty of harm. Disdain and growling anger boiled from within to spill out first in writing and then verbally all over the floor of my therapist’s office. It was pronounced, organized, claimed and then bagged up and disposed of.

Letting go has been a long process, one that has taken decades for me to quantify, qualify and then release the rage. It involved being honest about how dark my childhood was, devoid of normalcy and how I no longer owe my family any loyalty. It also involved no longer tolerating the gas-lighting, purposeful “crazy-making” of both parents and siblings invested in continuing the fucked-up family tradition.

The sun will come up tomorrow and I will rise, giving thanks for the life I have. I will express gratitude for those I love and for those who love me. The positive influences I allow within my orbit will be raised up and tearfully proclaimed to be deeply appreciated. I have all of this because I chose to let the negative go.

The happiness I feel in this moment continues to grow and will only increase as I release each bad memory, each hurt, each lie, each nasty letter, email and text out into the universe to float away. My achievements are mine. I earned them and will be proud of how far I have come.

Peace be with you. I release you from my life.

© 2019 L.A. Askew

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to “In the Land of Reverie” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.