Our bodies are so bizarre and amazing. They betray one part to preserve another. Like how my husband pointed out; if you are freezing your body will keep the heat to the organs to protect them, to keep you alive, allowing appendages to freeze and even die first. But if you have no arms and no legs to use, how on earth can your body feed those organs to keep them alive? Oh the hypocrisy and treachery of our own bodies.
When I was a teen my brain was very broken. It wanted to die. Or it could not figure out how to live so death seemed like a responsible option. I worked hard to be alive and be all that I was supposed to be, but my mind felt it was being crushed by an anvil with all the choices and possibilities. And the emotions, I was so burdened down with so much emotion and intensity of feeling I often longed for death. "What is one less pathetic sad lonely person in this world" my mind would say to me. It seemed noble and responsible. Even though I held multiple jobs, was mostly kind, and tried to be helpful, I felt I was a worthless leach.
A social lively creature who felt compelled to strive for complete independence and/or death. It didn't make much sense.
I didn't make much sense.
So I suppose it's not surprising that my planned mode of death would be jumping when I have such a self preserving fear and respect of heights.
I can't even get myself to get close to the edge of venues high enough to do the job. Physically I'd get too shaky or dizzy and couldn't physically get to that point. Had I ever gotten to that point and pushed through that self-preserving mechanism, I would have fallen off for sure by passing out or shaking off the edge.
It's a funny thing our bodies do.
But sometimes it's not so funny and it feeds the very thing we are trying to fight. Why are we so lemming like and incapable of standing up for humanity when it is what we claim to believe in?
The other day I sat by as a family member lashed out at her son. I tried to ignore at first but it became obvious this drunken lady was out of line. She is the one in the position of power. I am also an adult and an aunt to the 12 year old with whom my son was sitting right by and so therefore I am in a position of power also. And I just waited, not intervening, because I was self preserving. She was even directing some of her harshness at my son.
Yes I also knew their was the potential for making it worse for the kid, but there were so many simple ways I could have intervened and let him know he is being noticed and protected. I could have drawn her line of fire from him, but I didn't until much later. Too late. He and then his sister had already taken quite the verbal lashings, a drunken "tap" to the head with a hotdog stick, and some other physical aggression I did not see as I was trying to avoid and ignore.
When I finally did intervene I did take a little beating. And I am not in good shape for that. I did find myself getting a bit defensive when she was completely irrational and I knew it. But the beating I took was nothing compared to the impact the crap she was saying can have on a kid. Especially when others sit by and watch. That reinforces the negative messages he is receiving and I know this and I know better.
I was angry with myself that night. Angry and disappointed. Disappointed at how week and how big of a coward I was. I sat by and let a vulnerable and impressionable child take a berating style beating because I was afraid she'd turn on me and yet I am angry about something similar having recently happened to me and I am stupid suicidal 50% of the time. Why not sacrifice myself for this child cause? I have claimed I automatically do that for others. I so very often do. So why not then?
Was it simply because I knew it wouldn't kill me or him? Or is it the self-preserving nature of our physical selves?
Stupid dual nature, self preserving bodies.
At least I know with a certainty (although I already did 50% of the time) that I really don't want to die if I can't even take a little verbal lashing for a child.
And I'll leave it at that, mind you, you do not know the whole story or the story at all, rather the intensity of my feelings and emotions, that is all. I likely behaved better than you are thinking and the abuse of this child is quite debatable to some especially considering the mental and emotional state of his mother and the abuses she herself has been through over the years. It is all so complicated.
Mostly it is so sad to me how the abused so often become the abusers.
I do not want to repeat those patterns myself, but I know sometimes I fall short.
Now what do I do about that?
