When I was a little girl, I thought having four older (half) sisters was the coolest fact about me, especially when they lived in a different state than I did. I would dream about hanging out with them, being one of them, and sharing secrets. Over the years as I grew in knowledge of the real world, it became painfully clear to me that my dreams were simply my hopes manifest and would rarely cross over into reality. To be fair, I can't blame my sisters entirely; I was a pain in the butt as a child. On the rare occasions I did see them, I would chase after them to tell them to stop smoking because it would kill them. I didn't know how to say, "dad won't let me hang out with you when you smoke," so it came out as me being a little priss.
Sleep beckons me as the sirens of old drew in their prey; their voices beguiling each man to become their slave.
As I was working on homework tonight, the swirl of emotions filled me to the point where I realized I desperately needed to work on this next part of my story. Then I realized how school, work, my photography, and my sister's wedding planning put writing on the back-burner. So, without further ado, here I go!
Love is a bit of a strange topic for me to write about since I have never been "in love" before. Sure, I've had the usual crushes, a date, and rejections, but I don't know what "love" is supposed to look like these days. The world has become confused as to what "love" is; I have never thought it was that icky feeling in one's gut when you stare into someone's eyes, because that feeling is fleeting and love is supposed to last a lifetime. "Love," according to what the media throws our way, is all about the sexual gratification that comes with being with the one you're attracted to. "Love" is about sharing a physically intimate part of one's self with multiple people while withholding the truly intimate part: your inner vulnerability, your past, your dreams, your needs, your life plan, your hidden passions (as in hobbies), etc. After watching so many of my friends and family members settle down over the years, I have made it a point to observe what kind of "love" they have.
Wow. That is about all I can say when I looked and saw how long it has been since I last shared Part 7. I will eventually get to why it took so long, but suffice enough to say it had to do with my dad's health problems as well as a surgery my mom underwent (both are fine right now, though!). The first order of business I wish to tackle is to explain my subtitle: "A Chemically-Forced Submission in a Self-Absorbed World." I believe in the commandment to honor one's father and mother; to me, that is to be respectful, serve them with love, and submit to them regardless of one's age. By "submit," I mean there are times when their needs are greater than my own and, out of love, I put my needs in a "later" box. Note how I say the word "love" and not include "respect." There are not a lot of moments where I respect my dad after all that has happened, but I do respect him as a fellow human being as as the person who sired me. Agent Orange required me to put my needs on "pause" so early in life, long before I had the maturity to understand, that it felt like a forced submission. Only in recent years have I learned how to not have it be forced, but done in kindness and love.
Somehow it does not feel as if it has been a week since I last posted. A lot has gone on and frankly, I needed a breather from travelling back through my own timeline — as in Doctor Who, travelling one's own timeline is a dangerous game. Remembering all that I have for this story has stirred up feelings I never thought I would feel again. This past week I have been angry with my dad as I have not been in several years, probably since I was in Texas.