FB Rants 10/2/14

I was passively/aggressively invited to an argument on FB this morning by a complete stranger, over a comment that I made that did not involve him in any way. I did not respond. I don't plan to. I will log off and go about my day and my life without it affecting me in any way.
See how easy that is, People? You don't have to respond to every ignorant invitation to an immature battle of wits. You don't have to blare your opinions all over the interwebs, all day long, every time you see something that you disagree with. Your time is better spent proving that your beliefs make you a good person to the people that see you and experience you every single day.
Bottom line, you don't have to be a dick on the internet.

FB Rants 9/28/14

Hey, People. Guess what. Respect and trust are something that children (no matter what age) do not, I repeat, do NOT owe their parents. Respect and trust are earned. If your children (no matter what age) do not respect and trust you, 2 things, you are not being respectable or trustworthy and you are not showing them respect and trust. I promise. Children learn how to navigate through this world by behaviour modeled by their parents. Not by verbal lectures from their parents. Good, loving, kind behaviour is best modeled. If you want your children (no matter what age) to act like a loving, kind, decent person, you are going to have to put in the work and be one yourself.
Children (no matter what age) are not animated objects to be broken, scared, oppressed, manipulated and bullied into a place of obedient submission. (No matter what an archaic, barbaric book says about it!) They are fully conscious, fully aware, fully sovereign human beings. They are human beings. Human. Beings.
Let's stop expecting (which is a mistake unto itself) behaviour from our children that we are not even willing to rise to ourselves. Stop it. Just, stop it. Be the kind of person that you want your children to be to the rest of the world.
Let's stop shaking our heads in bewilderment at "this generation" and its supposed flaws, and have the humility to recognize that the current generations can only be what the previous ones cultivated them to be. Stop it. Just, stop it. Be the kind of person that you want to meet out in the rest of the world.
Let's stop expecting (again, huge mistake) and hoping that everyone else will make the world a better place. Let's stop demanding that our children behave as we say and not as we do. And let's just start doing and being it ourselves.
Society starts at home. It starts with me. And it starts with you.

FB Rants 8/31/14

Now that our beautiful local landscape is dotted with hideous, monster structures called wind turbines, and they are FINALLY spinning, is now a good time to expect my hydro bills to be drastically reduced? No? ‪#‎takingituptheass‬ Oh, what's that? My bill is actually going to go up? 'Cause it has. A lot! ‪#‎takingituptheassmore‬ Now I get to see these ugly things on the daily, pay for them for forever and never actually see any return on them? I should just stay bent over, eh?

FB Rants 9/9/14

Thank you, but no thank you, ‪#‎MeghanTrainor‬ for a song that *ALMOST* has an empowering message for girls. Instead it ends up doing a disservice to both men and women. If your mama had stopped her message at "don't worry about your size" then all would be cool. But, nope, there had to be more. You just had to keep singing. ‪#‎why‬ ‪#‎shutup‬ ‪#‎bodyshaming‬ ‪#‎yetagain‬ ‪#‎sametiredmessage‬ ‪#‎sigh‬
Here is the real message we should be sending:
Girls, you do NOT have to justify the size of your butt!
Boys, there is SO MUCH more to a girl than the size and shape of her butt!
Girls, a man (not a boy) will appreciate and respect "holding you at night" no matter the size of your butt.
Boys, hear this! There is SO MUCH more to a girl than her body.

We have to stop with these near-misses in messages to BOTH genders in our society. Justifying the size of your body to a culture that demands you be a "size two" with a nah-nah-nah-nah-boo-boo retort of "guys like my size better in bed anyways" is NOT body acceptance. It is more body shaming. Furthermore, it only serves to send the message that guys ONLY care about girls who go to bed with them and that girls should ONLY accept their bodies if boys want to go to bed with it.
"'Cause every inch of you is perfect/
From the bottom to the top"
FULL STOP! FULL FUCKING STOP!
(This has been Ranty Tuesday with Hillary. Thanks for playing along. Carry on, Love.)

I just can't... So, I rant

I rant.  A lot.  It is my way of lashing back at the accepted status quo and trying to spread little seeds of doubt, wonder and unrest among anyone I come into contact with.  For the most part.  
I ranted last night to my daughter's friend.  I ranted a few weeks ago to the owner of the dance studio where my daughter is a student.  
I don't do it loudly.  I try not to do it angrily and be all nasty about it.  I want it to be heard.  In the most Freudian way possible.  ;)  

Since I have exhausted my family's tolerance of my attempts to save their lives, save their souls, save the environment and save the planet, I often turn to Facebook to vent something and call attention to a particular cause, shift or thought.  So I will start copy/pasting my little rants here.  You know.  To preserve them for posterity.  ;)

I'm going to go post one all up in here right now!

The Healing Letters, Volume 1: Dear Mom

 (Not gonna lie.  This has been saved in 'drafts' for a very long time.  I got to "crippled and extremely damaged" and had to sit with it for a few months and grieve.  I hope that I am ready to press 'publish'.  Here goes.)


Dear Mom,
I want to believe that you did your best in raising me and loving me.  

I want to...

It's just that - your best left me crippled and extremely damaged.

That damaged child became a damaged mother who, in turn, damaged  my own children.  Some days I feel too broken to attempt to heal the brokenness that is evident in my babies.  Some days I feel unable to parent my children in any way other than how I was parented.  And the cycle spins itself into continual useless continuation.  For no other reason than that it is all we know.   

But I know that there is still time.  For my children.  For me.  For you.  For us.  

So, I press on.  I fight.  I cry.  I heal.  I try.  I fail.  I see hope.  I accept.  I acknowledge.  I rejoice at progress, no matter how small.  I mourn.  I grieve.  I feel helpless.  I feel hopeless.  I avoid.  I hide.  I remain disconnected.  I feel guilt.  I get depressed.  I am angry.  I am sad.  I feel fear.  I choose happiness.  I embrace.  I trust.  I am... a mess.

I am fighting an invisible war.  Within myself.  It is not my war.  It is not my fight.  And yet.

I desperately want to show my children their value and open a sacred place for them in my heart, but I was never shown my own value and never offered a sacred place in anyone's heart.  So, I struggle.  To undo a lifetime of wrong so that I can do right for my babes.
I do not hate, though.  I see, I understand that I am where you have been.  I can offer you forgiveness, Mom.  Because I desperately need to be forgiven by my children.  I desperately need to forgive myself.  

And now, as the tears flow, I find a bit more peace.  I make the slightest motion forward.  I carefully reconstruct myself.  And there is hope for all of us.  

I love you, Mom.
Signed,
Your broken, learning to be whole, child

Stories

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