Breaking common conception. Shoot the stereotype.

When looking out, we can not see through the eyes of other people or know what demons they have slain, how good or bad the journey has been for them.

Do I need to know their past to accept that they can understand intrinsically what I or another is going through?

No, it helps make us less embarrassed, ashamed or scared to share things if we know that those who are listening have some experience/knowledge with our situation and are not looking down on us…for whatever reason.

One of the things that isolates us from help, or possible friendship, is shame, fear, embarrassment and stigma.

I was talking to one of my counselors this week and something she had not realized, even though she did say that when she revealed she had been conned out of a small amount of money to co-workers in a meeting, some people looked at her differently, as if she was kinda stupid.  However, when I pointed out that in today’s world 9 times out of 10, people admire the person that stole the money or whatever…they kinda smile and say clever devil (or something along those lines) while looking at you as if it was your fault.

It’s something that people do as for some reason they admire the not Robin Hood con artists and cheats.

After all, we all like to think and say that we are smart and not likely to get “taken in” by anyone.

How much of looking down at the victim is from that little desire to be superior to someone else?  How much is admiration for a liar, cheat and confidence artist?

How about we change the stereotype a little, Robin Hood these people are not.

The devastation they cause is more than anything you have seen portrayed on Television.

You likely won’t hear it because the victims are looked down on, and the criminal is admired.

Somehow, that view needs to change…and the crime needs to be looked on as what it is.

Destroying people’s lives.

But then that is just my viewpoint.

About time we support the victim and berate the crook, instead of admire their clever skills.

 

 

 

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Rose coloured glasses.

It is easy for people to look around them and see all the negatives, especially if they have never experienced anything else.

I have never looked negatively on my country, it has always been the best and most beautiful but even I saw some things as being a little less glorious, sophisticated and exotic, until I ended up in another country for 6 years.

I am glad that I have always felt proud of my country, and the view I have to how fortunate, intelligent, kind and rich in culture we are, which has only been bolstered from my experiences abroad.

I hear people listing all of our negatives, and am amused as other countries who seem fairer, actually have far worse problems than we do, including but not limited to the expectation of government support for those not working, open prejudice, ceilings to educational growth and hidden class distinctions.

Of course people who are spouting the negatives are not in the mood to hear that things really are not as bad as they could be, or are in other countries that seem to wonderful when you are not actually in them.

The art of appreciation is not taught, sought or understood, but it should be.

Appreciate what you have, where you are and those you love, for it is amazingly simple to lose it all and then all you have resting upon your plate is regret and sorrow.

My world for a roll of TP. Ok not mine…

…it is someone ELSE stuck in the loo yelling: “Where did all the TP go?”

Well buggered if I know, last I knew there were 8 rolls in there.

Maybe there is a critter that eats TP ?

No, we know who has it, in their bedroom.

It is stashed in there under the tinned food, bags of chips and chocolate bars.

No they were not this bad before but hey, can’t let the odd one out get anything more than…anything.

The fridge is like a map of proprietary territory, with 1 small shelf being a DMZ.

Some people make me wonder.

 

 

In Grama’s Day.

In the years between 1910 and 1912, a family of 5 was thrown from their home, the children sat upon the mattresses in the back lane contemplating their new state of homelessness.

Their father, a man with a weakness for drink, leave them to return to his family who are well off, with a dairy, lands and money.

The mother and children are unwelcome by his family, and end up in a workhouse.

In the years between 1910 and 1912 the middle daughter (my grandmother) and her 3 year old brother, were sent to Canada by Dr Barnardo’s to…a new family.

They did not wish to go, after all the mother and older sister were still with them even if the father and his family wished them to go. Even with tales of fruit you could pick off the trees on the side of the road and gold findable in the streams they still did not wish to go.

Their arrival to the “new world” was met with much disillusionment and for the girl age 12 it was more the life of a slave to do chores, sleep in the barn and grow up without knowing the family she loved.

My grandmother lived to be 105 years old, through some of the hardest times possible, and she herself went through something akin to what I am…twice.

My grandmother never forgave the people that sent her to the “new world” and would spend a lot of time listening to the audio book “Little Immigrants” whispering that it was worse than that but…”listen to it and you will understand a little”.

To the day she died she wondered what became of her mother, older sister (who she never heard from again)  and younger brother, who she lost track of during the war.

I imagine what she would tell me today, if we could talk.

She would not be happy to know that there is just me left, but then perhaps her going before the rest was  a kindness.

She deserved a lot of those.

Whirlwind of Ridiculous

I wonder sometimes if the world spins solely because people choose to be contrary or simply difficult, and if everyone got along the planet would suddenly cease all movement, and gravity would go splat.

The ex wants to exchange houses with someone, there needs to be an electrical inspection done.

Simple right?

I thought so, I mean how difficult can letting someone in and having them check the sockets and light switches possibly be?

Welllllllllllllll, going by the theme of this post? VERY.

This was the 4th scheduled appointment.

The first one I waited, the bloke never showed up, the second one likewise, the third one was made but I was not informed so well that ended up being a non occasion which brings us to today.

I hate missing appointments, they are made for a reason, people make an effort to come to do something and we all hope they are on time because we have things to do with our days but guess what? So do they. So I kinda like to have things down sorted, done and dusted.

This in mind, I walk the dog prior to their arrival, expecting that they would not be early, and get the dog done so that there is no stress about her needing to use the washroom.

I am walking back to the house and I see the guys van outside and think, oh well he is early (looking at my watch it is 1201 and the schedule window is 1200 – 1400hrs. I wonder if one of the 2 other housemates that are in the house let him in – but as I walk by the van to go to the door, he is sitting in the van.

Ok, he was getting himself together and will come to the door in a minute.

I take the dog to the bedroom and shut her in, return downstairs and the fellow knocks, I open the door to let him in and he is saying he rescheduled.

Say what? I was 1 minute late?

The housemate that he had spoken to is on the stairs yelling that he needs to go into every room and he is not going into hers  or one of the others…colour me confused.

So I get the guy to stay, but he confirms he needs access to every room and bingo – it’s not possible if she won’t let him.

So the fellow leaves, I feel like a putz for that, the housemate is ranting at me because they should have been told (yes I agree but it was not up to me to do that, I figured the ex would inform everyone as they are family)  and after getting yelled at I finally call the ex at work and they get pissy with me as well.

Hold up, I did not set up this situation, nor did I mess it up.

I walked the dog, was back in time, let the person in…that was my responsibility.

After the fellow leaves, with my sincerest heart felt apologies, everyone is off in a huff, and I think would the world stop spinning on its axis if everything just went smoothly and everyone got along?

I think it might.

However, as it will never happen, I won’t find out.

The ex’s way of responding is apropos for them, they threaten to move out on May 1, so screw everyone.

Chapter 2. The Crux Of Alternate Realities.

Nothing I am thinking is new to many, but for some it might be, as for me it was.

Everyone has had a time (or they will have) where a situation occurs and what you consider to be the only response or action to take, is not thought of the same by someone else.

I made the mistake of thinking that this was a singular instance of divergent core belief or priorities.

I should have seen it as the way of the world.

We were living on the farm, 360 acres of farmland with bush, and we had 4 dogs.  I was alone, as of the age of 12 I spent most of my time alone on the farm but that is yet another post for another day if I ever get brave enough.

The parents were at work, 100 miles away, and as they worked in the city we really did not have community ties (they were not the type to bother with neighbors and community).

On this fine sunny afternoon, knowing I would be alone till the next morning as usual, I opened the door to go outside and do chores and found the stoop covered in blood.  It is a shock, it’s like everything stops for a moment and then you feel fear, because something is so wrong.

I love animals, I guess being agoraphobic, I have spent more time with them than people.

My first actual thought was to find what was hurt, and I started calling the dogs.

It took a couple minutes but they came and one of them, a beautiful golden coated mixed breed shep/lab/collie, had her throat cut.

I was 14, my first thought was bring her into the house, and call mom at work.

Now my mom was an amazing woman, she was very quick and to the point – pour flour on it. Pack it with flour and keep packing it until the blood cakes and stops flowing.

So there I was in the kitchen packing flour onto her neck, crying and saying those stupid little prayers that she be okay.

That is when the older half brother showed up with his fiance.  I remember that feeling of help is here, it will be okay.

This was the moment when the divergence hit me.

This church going former military older half sibling, refused to take the dog to the nearest vet.

Instead he went to my room to sleep with his girlfriend and mom had to drive all the way home to take her to the vet, while I waited for her, tending to the dog and trying to keep hysteria at bay.

I was shocked at him because not taking her to the vet was not even an option in my mind, and I could not understand how this person could be that way.

He went to church but his first love was money, and his excuse was he was not paying for it (obviously not an issue as mom was taking her anyway) and well it would dirty his Toyota half ton so his citified fiance (a cousin via the step dad) would have issues sitting in it.

Et voila.

Divergent realities, different core values and morals.

The dog lived a long and happy life.

It is a lesson I wish I had remembered.

What we think is an automatic responsible moral response to a situation, may not even be considered by someone else.

In fact some people can’t even spell empathy much less feel it, and the only time they notice another person is to see what they can get out of them…something even now I can not quite fathom.

If I could maybe this would make sense.

Alternate realities we live in. Introduction.

I am convinced that part of the reason people do not connect is that they, we, all exist in alternate realities and the crossing of paths between some of those realities is harsh, harmful, even deadly.  I think the negatives impact so heavily and are trumpeted so fervently by the media that we do not realize there can be positive, even wonderful interactions from the crossing of realities.

Someone may well look at what I just said with raised eyebrows, yet even as they do that, if they look outside and see a homeless person walking down the street you will see a very distinct illustration of what I mean by “alternate realities”.

The reality of the individual is shaped by their family, environment, life experiences and their own mind.  Someone living in a mansion will not see the world, nor even know the thought processes of the person living on the street, and they will both have far different views on what they will do to survive and what is forbidden.

It is easy to be general, speak as if observing a fanciful notion that has had no impact on you.

It is harder to share your own reality.

Risky.

You will be judged, criticized and all the rest that goes along with it.

What is your reality?

Do you have a home, family, friends, job, pets, or are you alone, struggling to get food and shelter?

I highly doubt anyone in extreme circumstances is going to be reading this but their reality is no less valid or in fact worthwhile.

What is my reality?

Totally screwed up if I am honest and not looking to be getting any better.

There is 1 reason for me to keep on breathing and she has a big heart and 4 paws…the rest of my existence at this point is encompassed in hurt, fear, and helplessness.

The thing that drives me nuts is, I am afraid to speak out because of the situation I have been put in.

You see my reality, crossed paths with someone else’s reality, and this brought me here.

Everyone has a different life, but I made the mistake of thinking that most people want to be honest, good and not misrepresent themselves or cheat and steal.

My reality, my world, my thought processes, did not allow me to see that others do not see things like I do, there are no limits on them for what they can or will do, unless there is a cop standing nearby. Okay, not true, it has taken me this long to understand that even standing next to a cop, they will act like they have done nothing wrong and dare you to say anything to contradict them.

I am not perfect.

I have tried not to judge others.

I have helped strangers and those in need, sometimes the wrong way, risking bodily harm and employment but I thought that is what good people do.

I also thought that people in general were good, and mostly it was circumstances that make them bad.

I never claimed not to be naive.

Now the question is, what do I do?

Does it matter how I got here?

Well to me it does.

Understanding the situation requires knowing the history.

They expect me to be silent because if I am not I will lose what little they have left me, my dog, my bits and pieces, and my protection from being seen as stupid, gullible and as worthy as that homeless person is to most people that see them going by.

I did not want this, and each day I ask myself what to do, and hold my poor dog who did not deserve this either.

I really can not stand to lose my dog.

So silence wins rather than risk it.