the tao of jaklumen

the path of the sage must become the path of the hero


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#1000Speak: Hugs for the Survivors

I think just about everyone had a teddy bear at one point, didn’t they?

My father had one named “Boo Woo”.

I had a number of teddy bears, with different names.  One of them, I’d take the tag and stick my thumb in it before sucking.  For some reason, it made my thumb taste better, although sometimes I’d get it caught.

If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, dear readers, I shouldn’t have to remind you of some of the ugly parts of my childhood.  I was bullied and abused at school and church as well as home, especially during my preteen years in middle school.  I think that was about the time that I finally started to banish cuddly toys from a space on my bed.

Rather odd that any boy would bully another over that, though, considering the history of the teddy bear.

The teddy bear was named for Theodore Roosevelt, easily the most badass president the United States of America ever had. Image credit: BadFads Museum

I came back to cuddly toys after marrying Cimmorene.  She offered me Milo, who still occupies a space in the master bedroom (EDIT: Milo has been deployed to England with another survivor.  A plushie dog Cimmy named “Bill” now has his old position). She decided to buy me a Bekin-made bear, whom I named “Buster” for the movie Phil Collins made famous.

Because I was still sensitive about being bullied, I’d loan him to my children, especially my son.  I’d tell him Buster needed to store up more hugs.

Sister #1 used to collect Beanie Babies.  She decided to gift her collection to my folks so that grandchildren (mostly my children, and my niece and nephew who are Sister #2 JenntheAmazon’s kids) could play with them.

This delighted Princess to no end:

Monkey Girl gives Monkey a ride

It wasn’t too long until Boy started loving on the Beanie Babies.  His current case manager for counseling has a small collection in her desk drawer, and it turns out that one of them (“Goatie”) was the very same kind I sent Aussa for a bridal gift.

Both Aussa and “Snack Cake” Deborah (who spearheaded a Heifer International campaign for the Great Goat Shower) were amused by this pic.

Aussa’s going to have to monitor Pinterest now, since Pinning this image was the quickest way to grab it. Image credit: aussalorens.com

Of course, I was just expecting that she’d quietly get the gift of the Beanie Baby and the “got goats” window decal, with little fanfare.  Nope!

I just about fell out of my chair when I saw that tweet.  No way could I shrug it off, saying, “Well, it was cheap.”

So it was just easier to tweet about the awesomeness of Beanie Babies.

When I first started having back pain, Cimmy got this snake Beanie Baby for me.  I can’t remember what the Ty corporation gave it for a name, but I dubbed him “Bruno”.  He’s currently guarding my mini red wastebin full of scissors and pens and is on the shelf just above my computer monitor.

Anyways… my point in all these rambling stories is that hugs are essential, and as a survivor, if I can’t get one right away from a loved family member or friend, I will take it from a cuddly buddy, even if it’s not alive.  I am lucky that living creatures will give me physical touch, however– this includes my parents’ talkative cat, Skittles:

Skittles & Roger

My father and Skittles. Image credit: Dad Pratt at Flickr

Skittles and Cimmy

Skittle and Cimmy, during a housesitting visit

to Jenn’s stupid but loveable beagle mix, Dexter:

and a schnauzer named Oscar, who barks his fool head off whenever anyone comes to visit.  (Jenn probably hasn’t done a video with him because he’s just too excitable.)

Princess gets really stressed out when Cimmorene and I fight and argue, and, no surprise, she feels that her little brother is a chi vampire (meaning, he steals energy, or more literally, in Western terms, “the breath of life”).  Yes, I know that’s not quite fair– he can’t help his struggles with autism– but, it’s still difficult.

After an intense family council meeting reviewing our mood charts (we made some so Boy would better be able to recognize emotions), she drew a rather raw, dark portrait of herself.  So, if you look at the image just above, I gave her a hug, without too many words.  I let her hold it as long as she wanted.

Dear readers, we survivors need hugs.  Are you part of the 1000 Voices for Compassion movement?  What more can we do to be more compassionate towards each other?

Special thank you to Serins, who sends us hugs in her comments.

Compassion-Logo-FINISHED1

Procrastination, Perfectionism and Blogging Perspective

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SanitySign-PP-crossing (Twitter)

I came up with this image to illustrate the topic for Trauma Recovery University‘s topic this week (which includes the #CSAQT and #sexabusechat Twitter chats as well as their Google Hangout video).

I was going to edit it into An Artist’s Journey: Get the Balance Right! but decided to give the image a post of its own, particularly after reading about the Community Pool at the Daily Post.  I figured it would be good to make some space here for bloggers to offer some feedback; I’m still trying to figure out what I must be missing after 11+ years of blogging and several reworks!

A few of you have been very kind to offer some feedback recently, but I could still use some help, dear readers.  Please be gentle; perfectionism and procrastination really is a stumbling block for me- not just in blogging.

What can I do to invite more conversations with you here?

Or am I just lost in my own little world?  (That’s okay; they know me here.)

Please let me know, in the comments below.


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Compassion for the Survivors

I have done a lot of artwork for Trauma Recovery University, to illustrate concepts I am learning about.

In #sexabusechat tonight, someone wrote about wanting to embroider “Knock It Off” and “Made With Love” on a pillow.  Others came up with additional phrases, and I thought they would go well on conversation hearts:

and I remembered that Rachel Thompson had shared a conversation hearts generator some time, back during the Valentine’s season.  So I put a few phrases through that generator, and put it to a collage.  The following was the result:

Collage of Survivor Conversation Hearts. Made with cryptogram.com and collage.com

Now, there is more to be found, but, I figure that it’s just easier to point you dear readers to my Pinterest board.  I avoided Pinterest for the longest time, figuring it was more for moms sharing recipes and the like (like my youngest sister does), but, collecting images on survivorship and recovery from abuse on Pinterest made sense to me, and so I joined.

Oh.  Right.  I guess it’s time to connect my Pinterest account to this blog.  For now, you may find me at https://www.pinterest.com/jaklumen/. The main board I add to is “jak & #NoMoreShame”, but, I do see now that it helps me manage visual content, and so I have a board for Monomyth images, too.

Special thanks to Serins for spotlighting this image

AthenaMoberg-empathyfor 1000 Voices Speak for Compassion, and showing me that my artwork can have an impact, far beyond where I initially put it out.


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A Blogger’s Journey: Seizing the Sword/Grasping the Hammer

JOR-EL: The Kryptonian prophecy will be at last fulfilled. The son becomes the father – the father becomes the son.

I am one with my father. Our struggles are now acknowledged to be intertwined. But it is not so… elegant as Jor-El and Kal-El becoming one. We are united in our pain (and I could sense it for so many years).

United in abuse.

My friend Bobbi Parish told me last night that his immune disorders, the pancreatitis, and so on– are marks of long-term abuse. Abuse from his father, my grandfather, who beat him when he spasmed in the night, not knowing what else to do. Abuse from my mother and her parents, my grandparents, who witheringly disapproved of him for many, many years.  And more… more I am probably unaware of consciously.

I see abuse as a corruption to our natural weaknesses, marinating in fear, hatred, and evil suffering. In Superman III (sadly, mostly a really bad film, due, I think, to the wrath of the producers), August “Gus” Gorman analyzes the known kryptonite sample from a meteorite crash in order to synthesize it. Finding a portion is an unknown substance, he replaces it with an ingredient he finds on a pack of cigarettes– tar. After exposing the imperfectly synthesized kryptonite to Superman, Gus realizes it didn’t have the intended effect. Instead, Superman is vulnerable to the toxic emotions and vices of mortality. (See also A Hero’s Journey: Superman & the Ordeal.)

So Kal-El had to grapple with that weakness, and fully reconcile Clark Kent with Superman.

Thus I have realized my quest to overcome childhood abuse is not just for myself, but for my family- generations before, and generations after. The goal is not only to Seize the Sword, but also to grasp the Hammer that will rebuild.

So I stumble through the #CSAQT and #sexabusechats, watch the Trauma Recovery University Google Hangouts, make my Sanity Street Signs to understand it all (drawing deep on past art projects), cry, rage, and carry on, as best I can.

campbell-cave

See also

An Artist’s Journey: Get The Balance Right!

and

TToT: Seizing the Sword of Trauma and a path to healing


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Compassion for the Bullied

So, a 1000 Voices for Compassion marches on.  I’m late as usual– the 20th was my wife Cimmorene’s (@wavemistress) birthday, and I simply did not have time, or rather, the energy, to line up a post that quickly.

I’m going to broach a more sensitive subject than just the idea of simply bullying.  It’s bullying of a sexual nature– better known as slut shaming.956ed-sexualabuse5

I don’t expect any of you dear readers to understand that it happened to me.  I don’t even expect any of you to understand that it can happen to men.  Not even Wikipedia editors seem to acknowledge such very much at all.  But if you figure you’ll do your best anyways, and consider yourselves sufficiently warned of possible triggers, than I invite you to read on.

The tough stuff starts here

Work In Progress v. 2I’ve been busier on Twitter lately, because, to be quite blunt, I have a support network there, and they haven’t recoiled in horror when I’ve shared my story, the way some bloggers have.  They’ve lived the grit and the shit of childhood sexual abuse, and although I’d say a lot of them have had it far worse than I did, they welcome me regardless.  Because of the great stigma men face with this issue, I am overwhelmingly outnumbered by women, but there are a few men, and a few amongst that small section that are quite actively championing the cause of survivorship and trauma recovery.

A supportive Twitter chat friend introduces me to the UnSlut Project

http://unslutproject.tumblr.com/press

Image credit: Emily Lindin and The UnSlut Project, by way of Tumblr. Link image for source

If you’re not familiar with the UnSlut Project, I invite you to go check out the website really quick, and then come back here.  I think the context is important.

A friend from #sexabusechat (Stewart- @gottogetoutof) does all he can to get word out about resources for sexual abuse survivors.  One day he retweeted some Tweets from Emily Lindin and the UnSlut Project.  I was intrigued and decided to check it out.

Once I learned what the issue was about, I felt an impression that I should share my story.  I was reluctant to at first; much like a lot of domestic violence and abuse in general, the issue has been framed as women as the targets/victims, and men as the aggressors/abusers.  Even if men are targeted– fairly rarely is it said that a woman perpetrated the abuse.  Then I got a DM from Emily asking for financial support (since part of the project is a documentary film).  I thought the message was automated at first, but she very sweetly and congenially reassured me that it wasn’t.  I asked her if I might share my story, and she enthusiastically agreed.

My sexual bullying story starts here

I tried to keep things short.  I’m prone to tangents and ramblings.  I didn’t talk about all the instances that women were quite cruel to me in a sexual way.  But I will simply add that I was always bothered– whether it was in childhood or as an adult, in college.  One story is just too embarrassing to share so openly, right now.  So here’s the message I sent to the site, in (most) of its ugly glory:

Dear Emily,

I’m writing with the hopes that when people read my story, they realize that this is not a gender-based issue. It’s not an issue where only men are the aggressors, and women are the targets. Sexual bullying and slut shaming can happen to anyone.

During the middle of my college/university experience a little over twenty years ago, I somehow caught the attention of a sorority girl in one of my classes at a small private college. I was still socially awkward at that time, and her rather energetic nature and interest made me a little nervous. I blurted out, “don’t have an orgasm, now!” after a nerve-wracking conversation one day, which I realize now was totally inappropriate.

But I was totally unprepared for the onslaught of revenge from her sorority sisters. I was harassed repeatedly by e-mail, telephone, and even in person. This continued even when the campus police got involved. It didn’t stop until I left the school.

Thankfully, that experience didn’t follow me to university, but, I remember walking across the street when a convertible pulled up and a young woman leaned out and said, “Yeah, baby. Shake it!” For some reason, that triggered memories of being mercilessly teased in middle school by boys that thought I wiggled my buttocks too much when I walked. Even though I doubt her comment was homophobic like theirs were, I still felt like an objectified piece of meat.

I know that men in our society are encouraged to welcome sexual attention. Yet how can it be welcomed when it’s unwanted and degrading? I think most guys know the difference, and no amount of swagger (or retaliatory insult) covers up the hurt. It’s not cool, and it’s not “studly”. It’s abusive.

A quick thanks to my friends at the No More Shame Project/Trauma Recovery University, who’ve given me courage to heal from childhood abuse, including sexual abuse. Survivors can be vulnerable to this sort of bullying. Please use my real name; I’ve come far enough that I don’t need to be ashamed anymore.

Jonathan/”jaklumen”

I don’t think the story has been added to the site, yet.  I can say it’s a rare one– most of the stories are from women, and one gay guy last I checked.  It frustrates me that society filters this issue by way of gender and sexuality.  Granted, I’m actually bisexual by way of orientation, but, I still don’t think that it directly has anything to do with it– women are capable of sexually bullying a man, just as they are capable of raping a man.  Attitudes and definitions may not have caught up, but, that’s my experience.

Some final thoughts

I don’t expect you to understand, or agree, right way.  I do not expect accolades to my bravery or courage in speaking out.  I do not expect many comments on this post, at all, even negative ones, although I fear someone will come along and reply with smack talk.  I’m not looking for praise, high regards, or any of that.

I’m simply tired of the bullshit and the lagging attitudes, so I’m saying my truth.  It is what it is.

See also Compassion for the Sensitive

 


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Update on Hero Introduction (A Pride of Heroes)

For the original post, please see BeWoW: Hero Introduction (A Pride of Heroes).

I sent Matt Langdon this message:

Thanks, Matt!

I’ve been admiring the work of The Hero Construction Company for a while.  After I decided to start blogging about the Hero’s Journey, I wondered if others were writing about it, and I came to the collection of blogs that include the Hero’s Handbook.

I hope you don’t mind that I included this message in a blog post: https://jaklumen.wordpress.com/2015/03/11/bewow-hero-introduction/ while referencing “A Pride of Heroes”.  I really do want more people to know what you do.  So many others I’ve talked to think the Monomyth is just about writing stories, and haven’t considered its real-life applications.

Due to indigent circumstances, I’m not sure I can scrape enough money to attend the Hero Round Table Conference anytime really soon.  But I’ll do my best to participate as much as I can until circumstances change and/or a conference comes closer to the Pacific Northwest.

and Matt had this to say by way of reply last Tuesday:

Thanks a lot for the blog posts. No idea how I didn’t see your original posts, but the internet is a funny place. Thanks also for the compliments. It means a lot.

Keep an eye on the Hero Round Table. If you can make it there, I can comp you a ticket. It’s a really energizing time. You’d meet some kindred spirits.
Wow!  How about that?  I’m still not sure how I’d make it to Brighton, Michigan.  The last (well, only time, really) I was in Michigan, was when Cimmorene and I were still university students, and we stayed with friends in Ann Arbor.  The plane ticket alone wasn’t terribly cheap, and I have no idea how I’d gather the funds now.  Just by comparison, the Trauma Recovery U/#NoMoreShame Project retreat is in Portland, Oregon at the end of June– much closer to us, and I’m not sure if we have the funds to go to that.
We’ll see.


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[WIP] A Blogger’s Journey: Seizing the Sword/Grasping the Hammer

Work In Progress v. 2

Coming soon…

for now, please see

An Artist’s Journey: Get The Balance Right!

and

TToT: Seizing the Sword of Trauma and a path to healing


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BeWoW: Hero Introduction (A Pride of Heroes)

What is BeWoW?

BeWoW stands for Be Wonderful on Wednesdays, a blog hop/blog prompt started by Ronovan at RonovanWrites.  The idea is to share a blog post that meets the definition of encouraging, positive, or wonderful.

For more information, click on this link: Be A #BeWoW Blogger

For Ronovan’s entry this week, click this link: Being Positive Support for Others.

Okay.  What Wonderful Thing do you have to share, jak?

I got this message very early this morning:

Hey Jonathan,

Nice to see your comment on the Hero Handbook. Thanks for stopping by. If you’re interested in talking to more hero people, I would suggest checking out the conference we’re running in Michigan (for the third year). The Hero Round Table basically came into being because I wanted people like you in the same room as each other. It’s been a cool experience thus far.
Blogging for more than ten years is pretty damn impressive. Well done.
Matt
The Hero Construction Company
810 689 HERO
theherocc.com

 
Join Us at the Hero Round Table Conference:
The comment that Matt is talking about is on his post A Pride of Heroes.
Here’s an excerpt from that post, to give you an idea:

A while ago I asked the Hero Construction Company Facebook page what a group of heroes could be called. Some offerings were host, league, and army. Then came pride. It won me over instantly.

I like it because it highlights that heroes should be proud. Heroes are always humble, but there’s no reason they shouldn’t be proud. I like the lion connotation too, as it seems lions of different shapes and sizes all fit equally well into the pride.

He offered anyone who was reading an invitation to this collaboration he calls The Pride, and all readers had to do was comment with their first name, initial of their last name, and their general location.  So I left a comment, and that led to the rest of the story.

Let’s wrap it up.

I’ve followed the Hero’s Handbook for a while, along with some other blogs done by fine folks at the Hero Construction Company and the Janus Center.  I wrote about them previously (here and here).  I was so impressed not just that they were teaching schoolkids about the Hero’s Journey, but that they were teaching them how to integrate it into their own lives.

As seen at Ronovan Writes- https://ronovanwrites.wordpress.com All image rights reserved to Ronovan and his son.

As seen at Ronovan Writes- https://ronovanwrites.wordpress.com
All image rights reserved to Ronovan and his son.

heroesjourneynew


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Compassion for the Sensitive

This was the name of the title of a post on the forums of The Icarus Project.

(TRIGGER/SENSIBILITIES WARNING: If you’ve got a problem with salty, crass language, you might want to stop reading right here.  Several four-letter bombs are to follow, a few sections down.)

It’s difficult for me to sum up what it was about, although I can recall some details quite clearly.  The content was raw, and the statement wasn’t terribly lucid.  No surprise, really, given the purpose of the site is to look at mental illness in a radical way– to look at it as a gift to creativity, insight, and alternative perspectives.

What I can say is that it was clear to me that the author wanted respite.  She described a therapy/counseling session, in which she described her frustration with being sensitive, so easily upset by seemingly small things in the world, expressing sorrow for the tiniest expressions of suffering.  Although I found her story a bit rambling and incoherent, I found succinct, articulate eloquence in the title.

Are we compassionate to the sensitive souls in our life?

Navigating social media hasn’t been easy for me.  If you’ve followed my 10 Year Blogging Journey, dear readers, I hope that’s been clear.  I hope you’ll forgive me a moment to be selfish and speak sharply against those who have been so unkind.As I said, I started blogging to face the darkness of my childhood abuse.  I started when blogging was relatively new, and people still looked at it as presenting a diary to the world.  I was drawn into LiveJournal by a live-action roleplaying group– a toxic lot, I found.  When they weren’t pretending to be scheming, backstabbing, warring vampires, mages, werewolves, fairies and other fantastical supernatural creatures, they busied themselves with drama whoring, pettiness, gossip, and gutter sniping in real life.  Much of the rest of the community seemed to be that way, too.  What remains popular there now is the “Oh No, They Didn’t” subcommunity– which I would sum up as the TMZ of blogging.

“Damn it, Val, you really are a sick fuck!  … Good thing I like sick fucks.”

When I looked to the old VOX blogging platform as a possibly more mature alternative to LiveJournal, things didn’t get too much better.  Does the notion of controlled, private content bring out the worst in people?  (The site took the idea of controlling which readers could see which content, although a little less customizable.  Most blogging sites now hide posts individually by password, instead of filters.)

Jack Yan at Wellington's Software Freedom Day ...

Jack Yan at Wellington’s Software Freedom Day 2010 event (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I met some folks I still have the pleasure of interacting with, such as Jack Yan.  A lot of the people I initially connected with are gone, however.

I still miss Valerie Rae (valerae) in particular.  The quote above in this section is easily how I’d sum up my impressions of her.  She was into shock humor and geek culture, and while her aggressive, mischevious style sometimes wore thin with me, I’d still have a smirk or a shit-eating grin on my face.  A certain core of the community, however, decided to ostracize her, as she decided to have an extramarital affair, and her would-be paramour decided to air all the dirty laundry about it.

I apologize if that offends some of my ex-Vox readers, but, seriously, now.  Did any of you catch wind of the whole #Gamergate debacle?  It’s okay if you didn’t; I think it relates, though.  I’ll sum it up like this: People that talk smack about folks in their personal lives should recognize it for the smelly, steaming shit that it is, and shut off the damned diarrhea from their mouth already.  Both “The Great Shunning of Val” and #Gamergate involved people spewing their personal shit for all the world to see (like someone they just fucked is now apparently a skanky slut), and it just resulted in more stinky shit.

I don’t pretend to give myself a free pass or an exception here.  I was really sad to see that continue on WordPress.  What was the scandal?  Rachel Mallino decided to call out Eric “Le Clown” Robillard on sexually predatory behavior.

The backlash against her, as a result, I think was very unjustly deserved.  Sure, I’m biased, I guess.  For the first time in my life, I met someone who understood and had lived– no, survived— maternal abuse, albeit with a complex case of PTSD (cPTSD).  I’d say the tales of her mother’s narcissistic abuse are much more horrifying than my own, even if my own mother is too quick to gossip about her co-worker’s vagina falling out.

Western society is not kind to those who wear their emotions on their sleeve.

It was a really awkward journey, getting to the point where I was ready to write The Analogy of the Splinter.  Metaphorically, I was bleeding, urinating, and defecating in pain across the blogging community I knew, spilling out ugly details of my pain and suffering.  To be fair, I guess that’s against the social mores and folkways of blogging: you’re supposed to air your stench on your own space, not in the comments section of someone else’s.  But instead of receiving some tender care and merciful attention, I got people recoiling in disgust and revulsion.

Hmmm.

It’s called “read between the lines”. Credit: save-send-delete.blogspot.com

Oh, wait.  Maybe I wasn’t clear.

When “hold your horses” just won’t do. As seen at danceswithfat.wordpress.com

I loved this Depeche Mode tune back in the day (actually, I still do), because it encapsulates my outlook on how I interact with the Internet and the world around me:

What you see, is what you get.

Hey, I’ve got no problems making fun of myself.  I mean, speaking of feces, grand kudos to those of you dear readers that got through The ER doc told me I was full of shit.  Especially those that commented to great comedic effect; clearly, you fine folks realize that shit happens. Or rather, that sometimes it doesn’t, and you’ve got to take some drastic steps to get it to happen (no, seriously, this is how it went down, folks):

Why yes, my bowels are cramped up and hating me all over again– thanks for asking! Image credit: memeshare.net

Coming back full circle to The Icarus Project, I remember crudely parodying Rienhold Niebuhr’s The Serenity Prayer on those forums:

God grant me the serenity to accept the shit that happens,
The courage to clean up the shit I did shit,
And the wisdom to know not to mess with someone else’s shit.

I don’t always practice well what I preach, but I do strive to be consistent.

There are some people in my life, mostly close friends and family, that would be shocked by my liberal use of profanity, such as “fuck this shit”It’s a bit hypocritical, because when I discussed such things with my daughter, I listed several of the common 4-letter bombs and admonished her not to use them in polite company, and to use them precisely for what they meant.  Generally speaking, I don’t believe in silly Old English-Latin dichotomies where saying “fornicate” or “feces” is acceptable, but “fuck” or “shit” isn’t.  But then I use those “vulgar” words broadly, as in, I’m not really going to stick my gentalia in a pile of manure, or literally penetrate something with my penis, and that stuff isn’t literally splattered with excrement.

For the record, she loves humor that is just littered with coarse words, but since her brother with autism is too prone to parroting a lot of things, well, there was this dialogue…

(audio from some random YouTube channel)

“Motherfucker…”

(me in the background)

“What?  The only person I want to hear saying ‘fuck’ around here is me, damn it!”

What’s all this?  This is the 1000 Voices Speak for Compassion, that’s what.

Oh yes, this raw, crass post has a purpose.  It’s in response to the massive event Yvonne Spence and Lizzi “the Considerer” Rogers put together.  Please see their posts 1000 Voices Speak For Compassion and We ALL need The Village for context.  Or see this lovely video that the awesome Tamara Woods put together:

Again, apologies if my four-letter bombs were offensive, yet, I tell you, dear readers– that’s life.  Life is messy.  Life is ugly.  Life is raw, and brutal.  If you got past my salt and spew, I salute you.  I almost didn’t write anything for this, because I was still smoldering with rage, festering and boiling in pain.

Please, have some compassion for those who are suffering, even if they are thrashing about in an awkward, unseemly, even vile and disgusting way.  It’s more than worrying about someone in a land far away, or fretting over the depressing headlines the mass media uses to sell news.  Not that such isn’t important, or such empathy for those you don’t personally know is invalid.  I ask you, dear readers, to notice and care those that are right beside you, or those you might not consider as worthy of compassion.  Someone like me.

This quote has been kicking around Twitter lately, and I think it’s appropriate:

as seen at hannekeantonelli.com — Please visit wendymass.com for more info about the author quoted here

Dare I say it, dear readers, we’re all quite possibly clueless– completely clueless.

Click through for image source/credit. Seriously, I find some of the best images right from WordPress bloggers, and for that, know that I am forever grateful.

becuo.com – Check Yourself Before You Wreck Yourself Shirt Images & Pictures

To close, consider a more recent offering from Martin L. Gore and his Depeche Mode bandmates:


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We ALL need The Village

Found out about this from Gene’O and Serins, actually, but the origin leads to Lizzi.

I admit my motivation is selfish. I have a village of sorts… otherwise I would have cracked with CPS threatening to take away our children, lingering in chronic pain for so long until I finally climbed on to the surgeon’s table again… and much, much, more. I suppose this is my 12 Labors as a would-be Hercules, but I am aware that others have it far, far worse.

(I don’t do Facebook anymore, so no, I won’t be on the FB page.)

Considerings

“It takes a village to raise a child”

This phrase is so well known it’s almost hackneyed, and gets trotted out when parents receive support from other people, enabling them to better raise their children. Whether it’s hand-me-down clothes, useful equipment, solicited advice, a cooked meal during a frantic time, or the offer of some babysitting so that the overwhelmed mother and/or father can have some time out…there are so many vital ways a community of friends-and-relations can be involved (to a certain degree) in the raising of a child.

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