Skip to main content

The Truth

I don't know how to write this blog because I have no objective evidence that what I did actually works, that my kids really were as difficult as I say they were, etc.

You don't know my kids and didn't know them when they were younger and horribly difficult. The people who could potentially testify that I'm not making this up chose to burn me many years ago for reasons I don't understand and probably cannot ever comprehend because I just don't treat people that way.

I've considered trying to write fiction to try to accomplish my goals and that doesn't seem to fly either.

I've tried various provisos over the years, like "For entertainment purposes ONLY," and nothing seems to really do the trick.

I don't see myself as "an authority" with some right to tell you what to do and handing out edicts for other people I've never met isn't my thing anyway. Good decisions require substantial context, so I'm not qualified to make those decisions for people I don't know well.

I like telling stories and hoping other people find some detail that is both pertinent to their needs and effective for them. 

I'm aware that no matter what I do, someone will think I'm making stuff up or feel personally attacked or otherwise feel that it's appropriate and right to have a fit about my blog posts, personally attack me, decry the contents, etc. In many cases, that seems to happen because I hit a nerve and said something that hits too close to home for them and they have baggage and don't want to admit it.

I was very big on being honest with my kids because I feel that not telling your kids the truth -- not telling them what is actually REAL -- literally is crazy making and sets them up for a lifetime of dysfunction.

At the same time I was sensitive to the fact they were children and weren't necessarily ready for the WHOLE truth. They didn't necessarily need all the details for me to be honest and giving them ALL the details wasn't necessarily kind nor morally defensible.

I was molested as a child. I did a great deal of therapy and read a lot of books, articles and research and thought long and hard about how to actually protect my children without telling them "There are horrible people in the world who want to do unspeakable things to you."

I felt that a nebulous threat like that wasn't going to help them. It would just be a burden for them.

I've talked to them as adults and they've told me "Yeah, that would have been all kinds of head fuckery." basically. Giving them a statement of threat and no details would have let their imaginations run wild while they wallowed in fear of something they weren't equipped to identify if confronted with it.

Additionally, I felt giving them dirty details would be like the saying "Going to war to preserve the peace is like fucking to preserve virginity." I would be destroying their innocence in the name of trying to "protect" them from child molesters.

I am currently 59 years old and have a genetic disorder with a life expectancy of 36. You probably don't believe THAT either, but it means in human years I'm something like 130 years old.

Life is hopeless and pointless, the world is an unfixable cesspit, there are exactly zero actually GOOD answers and I'm running out of time as I'm supposed to be long dead already.

You can believe me or not. If you don't like my stupid blog that costs you zero dollars to access, don't fucking read it. Duh!

FYI, I hate Christmas and one of the things I hate about it is the widespread practice of making up utter bullshit and all of society lying their asses off to children to pretend there is an independently wealthy old White man passing moral judgement on all children everywhere and giving out free presents to those he deems "good little boys and girls."

If you are in on this completely psychotic bullshit and think that's a good idea, I suggest you EXPECT to be offended by my love of the truth and my beliefs about what constitutes good parenting. Because you and I are absolutely not on the same page about some things at this moment and you probably don't want to get on the same page with me and I sure as hell have zero plans at age 130 to join in your idiotic bullshit so you can feel okay about actively making your children insane and deluded and pretending it's good, clean fun.

Popular posts from this blog

The Hand Licking Incident

When my oldest son was seven and in second grade, we were living in Kansas. Some time after the school year started, he began licking his hands. He soon was doing so all day, every day. His teacher wanted it to stop. So did his dad, my husband. I was a young homemaker, financially dependent on my husband, and I was feeling enormously pressured by both of these people. I also felt they both had real careers and didn't genuinely respect me. They both felt it was my job and mine alone to somehow make my son stop licking his hands entirely. I caved to the pressure. I tried telling my child to stop. I tried spanking him. I tried putting unpleasant spices on his hands to deter him. I tried grilling him about why he was doing this so I could find some solution. He couldn't explain it and the terror in his eyes was disturbing. None of it made any difference whatsoever. He continued to lick his hands all day, every day. He just tried to hide it a little better. Meanwhile, our rela...

Crazy Conclusions in Early Childhood

From my last post on this site: One recurring theme: Bright kids of a certain age are just smart enough to jump to crazy conclusions rooted in lots of knowledge for their age but little real world experience. This seems common in the roughly toddler to preschool age range. I can readily think of a few examples of this from my oldest son's early years. The easiest one to tell is his ladybug freak out. He was about four years old and we were living in a third-floor walk-up in Germany. There were some really tall trees outside his bedroom window and one day there was a small ladybug invasion in his bedroom. He was inexplicably just terrified of the handful of yellow-and-black ladybugs on his bedroom wall. I actually laughed out loud because it seemed comical, but then I took him out of the room and closed the door and made sure he was protected from being around these bugs even though they were harmless. I kept the door shut to his room for a few days and he slept in my room u...

The Chaos AKA English is Tough Stuff

I recently tripped across this clip of I love Lucy  where Ricky reads a children's book and keeps running into different pronunciations of ough . It reminds me of the much longer poem called The Chaos which sometimes gets called English is Tough Stuff. Wikipedia describes it as a poem demonstrating the irregularity of English spelling and pronunciation . Ricky goes on a rant about in Spanish, the same letters are always pronounced the same way. I have read that they don't have spelling bees in Spanish. That's a peculiarity of English education because of the extreme irregularity of English spelling and pronunciation. àMy ex-husband and oldest son are both not very social and they read a LOT. They both are prone to quirky interpretations of the pronunciation of words they learned from reading. As much as possible, I tried to make learning fun while homeschooling my kids. We spent a week on The Chaos while they objected to my pronunciation and looked it up only to find I w...