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.

 

 

 

Advertisements

Rinse and watch someone else repeat.

You ever get into a mess, a big one, and whether someone else got you there (as in my case) or circumstances made a shambles of things, even maybe you just charged forth into the valley of 300 foibles without thinking it through and…

…well isn’t this one FINE mess?

I know how I got into my mess, well most of it, and I know now that there were other ways of handling my circumstances but at the time, when your IN the quagmire most of us are not stepping back and thinking logically.

My predicament aside, as I will write about that in future should I ever get the courage, it seems that once people know you have been through something, they seem to think you are an expert on that particular circumstance.

I am here to say, that is not always the case.

After all I was shot at once and I would be just as clueless and stuck to the ground if it happened today as I was then.

A former ex tried to strangle me, and I have not taken self defense courses so, I would be just as hapless should that ever be repeated (not if I can help it).

Con folk stole everything I had and got me into a foreign country, okay, on this one I am a little more knowledgeable.

So someone else is in a foreign country, brought there by someone they trusted and were in a relationship with, and they too have no money, freedom and well they are kinda screwed…slight adjustment in circumstances and physical situation.

When you think your faux pas or conundrum is a singular event, not experienced by anyone else, well I realize now that it is a bit big headed.  There are still things that happen to people that are indeed singular and original but that is in itself exceptional and rare.

Other people at some point in time have gone through something akin to what you are or did, slight nuances of difference taken into consideration, and well the outcomes are probably as varied as each of us are as individual human beings.

So when someone asked me for advice for this person who is stuck in a foreign country, no money, no family with money,surrounded by people who do not care or actively got you there and dislike you, with pets that they can’t bear to leave…

…I understand from experience, what they are going through.

54 days ago the people who put me in a similar situation after taking everything I had, including my identity, threatened to slit my throat, and the world was in turmoil.

53 days ago I boarded a plane and arrived back in my own country an emotional, psychological, financial and physical mess.

They managed to take everything I had and I ended up with nothing.

Yesterday a friend contacted me because she was aware of what I went through, and now someone else is going through something similar, in my country.

Well now there is a conundrum.

I still have not worked through everything but my counselor is amazing and very good at seeing things that I did or do not, though I do not need anyone to tell me how lucky I am now, I made it out with my dog.

There is still a woman, in Canada, who is broke, has diabetes, no family to pay for her return to America, no health care, and the person that brought her to Canada (unsure if it was a sponsor or what) is now saying they are broke and can’t even pay for her return to the states with her pets.

Alas I am still broke myself and looking for a place to live, and the basic necessities so I am not much help in financial ways.

I have made suggestions but the person living through any particular hell has to actually take the steps to DO or SEEK things to help them out of the circumstance they are in.

When one is on the edge of a cliff, looking into avast abyss of darkness without a clue of what is below when they step off, many things keep them glued to the mountainside unable to move and fear is rather high on that list, not to relegate shame, embarrassment, vulnerability or helplessness to non existence because they all contribute in their own nefarious major ways, but fear is the bow on the box that needs to be undone first.

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.

the TP police…ride again.

You know the type of people that will count out toilet paper squares to give you because they are that anal and concerned with money? The ex’s mother is that person – this morning she put a new roll of toilet paper in the upstairs bathroom. It’s gone. So I am in my room and she was in the doorway ranting about the toilet paper – Thomas showered and he apparently LOVES to go through toilet paper (apparently).

Until the last 6 months I would never imagine I would be so happy that I walk the extra flight of stairs to use the OTHER bathroom.

Remember folks “BE SQUARE AWARE. Conserve your Toilet Paper, save the world” (or a few pennies whichever way inclined you are).

I feel pain today.

Let down the barriers and be, just be, without fear, pain or insecurity holding you back.
Acknowledge not the tears unshed, breath passed that tightness in your throat.
Be safe enough to allow yourself freedom to break.
Not what it is acceptable in others eyes to feel, or acknowledge but be free to experience you own feelings.
No one to tell you that you are unworthy to cry, wrong to be hurt, beneath the right of consideration or insult.
Look upon things with fresh eyes, not those coloured by the deceit, betrayal and abuse.
Khalil Gibran once said that, “Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.”
I think he is wrong, for the breaking does nothing but undermine the strength of self, and the understanding is not positive, but a stark view into blackness of the souls of others.
Can you view into such without being scarred?
Can you reach out and unlock the barriers of protection to dare let a fresh breath of life in?
Khalil Gibran also wrote that “Much of your pain is self-chosen.”
I beg to differ, and venture that we select words of others to stand in for that which we lack the capacity to say aloud or place upon paper.
Pain is not self chosen, unless you are at the core a masochist.
It is easy to blame ourselves for the actions of others towards us, allow them freedom from responsibility that they truly hold.
The wisdom to withhold blame, assign responsibility and accept in ourselves our guilt, innocence or stupidity, is never easy to achieve.
First we need the freedom, to feel, whatever we do, and divest ourselves of the imposed constraints of others, who for selfish reasons would deny us our simple right to humanity.
It is never wrong to feel, what matters is what you do with it, and that you somehow grow from it.
Pain does not make us stronger, or necessarily wiser, but it can be survived, and allow us to be kinder to others when we see them in situations which mirror our own.
© Simple Lady March 14, 2014