And so it goes.

Well, the subject of adoption and birth came up again for me recently. On several occasions I’ve tried to contact either of my birth parents, each time without luck. This time I’m requesting some info from the hospital where I was born. Hopefully along with my time of birth, which I need for a horoscope, they’ll be able to tell me more about my birth mother’s aboriginality. My maternal Grandmother was living at an aboriginal community at that time, and I have some mention of that on my mother’s birth certificate, but it would be nice to have more info.

That’s one of the big problems dealing with adoption, you feel like you’re kinda floating in nowhere. There’s no roots or sense of connection to the people around you.

Having my own children helped that a little, moreso since they’re both now living with me. However I had been sucked in to a Pentecostal cult when I was in my late teens and my marriage and childbirth experience were horribly damaged by the cult teachings that went on. I have a lot of sympathy for any married woman who hates the idea of sex with her husband because of my own hideous experiences. And they actively taught emotional abuse of women and children under the guise of so called “godly marriages”. Dogs.

I guess it’s all kind of come to a head after the anniversary of my first daughter’s birth recently. The doctor put me back on mood stabilisers as he reckoned my lows were becoming dangerously low and he feared for my safety. I didn’t disagree and have been taking the bloody things. At least they help me sleep with much less nightmares or intrusive memories. It’s nice to be able to get to sleep at night.

For a while now I’ve been feeling a lot of the cultural diminishment of women. Because I’m over the hill now as part of an older, middle aged demographic, I’ve been used up in terms of sex or child bearing despite the fact that I have probably ten years to go in that regard. When you’re not a sex toy teenager or a chained to the kitchen sink mother, you’re either a hooker or may as well be dead to society. I notice a lot of women my age now trying out different roles for themselves. There are many who opt for the desperate housewife look, glamming themselves up and having a go. There’s also lots who buy corpulent four wheel drives that look like the results of liposuction and pretend to be men in order to have some sense of purpose and humanity. Because everyone knows that in Australia’s cock culture you have to be a butch man in order to have any real worth to society. It’s not even about work in that issue as women who work are paid less and promoted less. It’s all about the dick. And men who are emotionally sensitive or artistic or thoughtful are often sidelined by those militaristic standards as well. No one wins except the board members of disgusting corporations and the ever present media and advertisers. Bastards.

So here am I with two children to raise feeling like society could well do without me now. I’m over the hill and was never a man in any case, so why do I bother hanging on? There’s a few of us who feel this way and encourage each other with the saying “Stay here just to spite the bastards.” With pills in hand and distractions aplenty, I will. But what a way to live.

Despite what Mars proponents and concocted and contradictory evolutionary psychology might say, humans are really only animals, not the be all and end all of evolution. Certainly not the ultimate peak of life on planet earth. Manifest destiny as a theory went out on the Nineteenth century and only has a toe hold now amongst Pentecostals and Brethren who still live in the dark ages. Humans created this society as it is and we are at liberty to re create it anyway we like. We don’t even have to believe that the earth needs to be destroyed before Christ will return and sweep us all away like angels into everlasting heaven… And who’d want to spend eternity with a god who expects you to treat other people horribly and entrench world starvation and poverty in order to show yourself approved? Approved of what, being an arsehole?

Me I’ll hang on here quietly in my little spot by the creek and wait to see if the next generation is going to wake up to the bullshit and make some necessary and constructive changes.

Blessed be.


4 Responses to “And so it goes.”

  1. Unspeakably Violent Jane Says:

    When you’re not a sex toy teenager or a chained to the kitchen sink mother, you’re either a hooker or may as well be dead to society

    I can remember feeling like this. There is a definite loss of power that comes after you’ve passed through the booty years, but as that power dissipates, so too does the associative performance pressure, and new wonderful opportunities appear.

    Suddenly, out of your twenties, you can go anywhere and do anything without facing societal payback. You can make money and comment frankly on your successes without inciting male envy. You can travel freely without fear of physical danger. A few white hairs later and you are a cool headed authority on every subject, even if you’ve just read about it five minutes ago.

    And the sex is very available. Unlike a man of the same age you are not facing the fear of the ever flagging erection, and your access not dependent on your income.

    Women, if they are so inclined, can have twenty something lovers free of charge until the day they drop. We are so used to being the merchandise that it sometimes takes time to assume the role of shopper. The opportunity is there if you want it.

  2. crowlie Says:

    Unfortunately it’s taking me some time to change roles apparently. Being mentally ill and dealing with that stigma might have some impact. Hopefully I’ll develop into a Cougar like some others ;-)


  3. crowlie Says:

    Last night I thought further over this. It seems our realities diverge.

    I can’t work in structured environments as a result of childhood abuses, so earning more money is not something that’s going to happen soon for me.

    I do miss relationships, appreciating the company of both men and women, the cuddles and mutual memories that build up. However I’m dealing with the emotional fallout of said abuses and that means I’m really not keen on someone hanging around wanting to stick anything in my body, regardless of how young or pleasant they might be.

    The grey hair I can do.

  4. Unspeakably Violent Jane Says:

    You’re posts are always great, but this one has been haunting me. To me you are this wonderfully gifted writer, gardener, and photographer and I’m sorry about all the stuff you’re dealing with.

    I wanted to add to my earlier comment that one of the greatest things about the internet is that you can define your own “News and information reality.” If the mid-life male version of the world is dragging on you, tailor your news sources and forum participation accordingly.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: