I can't look anymore.
This is going to be one big-ass downer of a post, so if you're not in the mood, move along now.
Wish I could say I'm shocked by the news of the Boston Marathon bombing, but in the aftermath of Newtown, and now this, I'm just...numb. Twitter and Facebook are flooded with messages of support and condolence, and - don't get me wrong - it's all coming from a good, loving place, but I can't look anymore.
My faith in humanity's shaky even at the best of times. I wish I could believe in the best of people, but my own experience has shown me far too much of people at their worst.
My own mother laid the blame at my feet when I was molested at the age of nine. She hounded me about my weight my entire life - as if being bullied at school for the same reason wasn't bad enough.
In 2009, my husband died of a heart attack brought on by high blood pressure and diabetes. Not long after his passing I discovered his doctor had told him he stood at high risk for this kind of attack, yet my husband did nothing to change his diet or lifestyle. He didn't even bother taking his blood sugar levels - I found two brand-new, still shrink-wrapped blood sugar meters in his den months after he died. Worse, he never said a word to me about the state of his health, though I should've realized he was hiding something when he refused to let me come along to his doctor's appointments. His death left me so emotionally devastated, I hid in my apartment for an entire year.
I'd like to believe in a world where the people we love always think of us rather than themselves first, but that's a fantasy. People will always act in their own best interests, and to hell with the consequences for anyone else.
So...yeah. I come by my misanthropy honestly.
Which is why I write stories with happy endings. Even misanthropes need something to believe in. In my own head I can build a world where people are kind to the ones they love. Where there are problems and conflict, yes, but nothing that can't be worked out by the time we reach "The End."
It's on awful, dark days like this when I need that fantasy most.
Wish I could say I'm shocked by the news of the Boston Marathon bombing, but in the aftermath of Newtown, and now this, I'm just...numb. Twitter and Facebook are flooded with messages of support and condolence, and - don't get me wrong - it's all coming from a good, loving place, but I can't look anymore.
My faith in humanity's shaky even at the best of times. I wish I could believe in the best of people, but my own experience has shown me far too much of people at their worst.
My own mother laid the blame at my feet when I was molested at the age of nine. She hounded me about my weight my entire life - as if being bullied at school for the same reason wasn't bad enough.
In 2009, my husband died of a heart attack brought on by high blood pressure and diabetes. Not long after his passing I discovered his doctor had told him he stood at high risk for this kind of attack, yet my husband did nothing to change his diet or lifestyle. He didn't even bother taking his blood sugar levels - I found two brand-new, still shrink-wrapped blood sugar meters in his den months after he died. Worse, he never said a word to me about the state of his health, though I should've realized he was hiding something when he refused to let me come along to his doctor's appointments. His death left me so emotionally devastated, I hid in my apartment for an entire year.
I'd like to believe in a world where the people we love always think of us rather than themselves first, but that's a fantasy. People will always act in their own best interests, and to hell with the consequences for anyone else.
So...yeah. I come by my misanthropy honestly.
Which is why I write stories with happy endings. Even misanthropes need something to believe in. In my own head I can build a world where people are kind to the ones they love. Where there are problems and conflict, yes, but nothing that can't be worked out by the time we reach "The End."
It's on awful, dark days like this when I need that fantasy most.
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message 1:
by
Emma Sea
(new)
Apr 15, 2013 09:12PM
Words seem without value at times like this, but FWIW I'm so sorry that your ability to make my life better with your stories has come out of such deep personal horror.
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Emma wrote: "Words seem without value at times like this, but FWIW I'm so sorry that your ability to make my life better with your stories has come out of such deep personal horror."Aw, crap. I didn't write this intending to make my readers feel guilty. This was one of those days where I just had to vent, or else explode.
Jen wrote: "Meanness makes me sick, and terrorists are more than just people who set off bombs or commit mass homicide. I read a couple of articles about Boston yesterday, but I refused to watch the news. I di..."I read the initial reports on Huffington Post, then I had to log off the internet for the rest of the day. Haven't been spending much time on Twitter and FB either, but that has nothing to do with yesterday's tragedy.
The bloom's off the rose for me where social media's concerned - I drop in when I have to (aka, when I have a new book out), but aside from that, it just seems like a huge time-suck. Plus, I can't stand the mob mentality constantly on display. Someone posts something "moving" or "profound" (eyeroll) or just plain angry, and everybody else piles on. I don't see anything constructive about that.
This is probably my inherent misanthropy talking here, but it seems most people log onto social media to get their already inflated egos stroked. I've got better things to do.
I'd like to be able to say I have no idea what you mean, but sadly, I do. Hang in there girl - that's what I do every day! ;-)
Hang in there, and with more people like you, aware of humanity's self-interests, and writing stories that inspire others to believe in the best of us even through the worst of us, is a step in the right direction. Condolences for your loss. I have an uncle (diabetic) who did the something similar to one of my aunts. She knew in this case, but no matter how hard she tried to help him, he would not help himself. And after several amputations, he said he was tired of trying and died in the hospital. It's sad, but do not allow the "real" enemy to use these people or life experiences to snuff out the light in you.
