Monthly Archives: March 2016

What Makes Me Angry

child-suffering-violence

Warning: This entry contains some graphic descriptions.

I know of people who get really angry at the fact that their coffee isn’t made under fair trade regulations or that their clothes were made in a sweatshop in the heart of China or that somebody used the word “gay” in a derrogative manner towards someone else (who wasn’t even gay). I know of other people that get angry because the world isn’t a clean and safe place – pollution is at an all-time high; animals are being mistreated and killed for their skins, horns or flesh for food; people with guns are rampaging into schools and shooting everybody to their untimely death. I know of other people who get angry at anybody who receives money from the government because they should supposedly “just get a job”.

These are discussions that I never participate in.

It’s not because I don’t care or that I am not interested. I do admit I am not politically inclined in any way, shape or form. I had a boyfriend once get mad at me for not being interested in the current matters of the world. It’s just that I honestly see these topics as being completely irrelevant to discuss in the first place. I will not participate because I can often see other points of view that, when shared, are simply met with obnoxiousness – that’s what happens when the people discussing all-important topics are angry. There’s no room for intelligent exchanging of ideas.

But more than that, I’m the kind of person who thinks, ‘If you’re so mad – then GO and DO SOMETHING about it. Don’t sit here lashing out and spoiling my dinner.’ It’s volunteers and activists that really inspire me. But if you can’t be a volunteer or an activist, I figure that there’s no point in getting angry about it. Just accept that this world is what it is and move on.

But this is easier said than done, for many people.

Somebody asked me, but doesn’t anything make you angry? Oh yeah. I have a very quick temper that my husband sees more regularly than I’d like to admit – probably because he knows how to push my buttons. And he enjoys pushing them, believe me, because he is just as stubborn and defiant as I am. We are like dynamites together.

But to get angry at the world for the way it is? I just don’t see the point.

So I’m further asked, okay what makes you angry about the world? I don’t know the reason for why this opportunity has presented itself to me. I’m really uncomfortable about sharing something that I should be angry about. I’ve never been asked this question and I have never really cared to share because like I said, I just do not partake in politically inclined conversations. I feel that these things are personal and very individual, to an extent. We are all passionate about different causes in the world because we all have unique personalities from each other.

But I’ll tell you how I do feel: Sad and helpless.

When I think about people suffering out there in the rest of the world where wars are rampant, bombings are becoming commonplace, and rapings are dished out like free candy – this definitely makes me feel incredibly and very deeply sad… and utterly helpless. I have a very vivid mind so it is easy for me to actually see the bloodshed in my mind’s eye, and to imagine in great detail the excruciating physical pain caused to a woman by an angry soldier cowardly using his penis as his weapon of choice. This very vivid mind of mine is precisely what causes me to turn away from the news and to keep myself relatively uninformed. (In this day and age, you are never truly out of touch with the world). I don’t need to be bombarded with the images because my mind already does it for me.

So when my mind shows me the horrors of the world, I end up in exasperated tears….

At these times, I do pray. I talk to God and plead and implore Him to show me ways in which I could help, ways in which I could contribute. Unfortunately, I am not one of those brave human beings out there who can pack their bags, get on a plane and land in the middle of where it’s all happening. I can’t just go and help build huts in South America for the poor, or go and help out with injured animals in the U.S, or go and care for children in an orphanage (which is my big dream). We all have different callings in our lives and although I’d love to be able to do that – it’s not MY calling. I have to patiently understand and accept that.  It’s taken me a long time to get to this point.

There are many injustices of this world that bring me to tears and that bring me to my knees.  But I will tell you that my heart lays with the children of the world. More than anything I would love to help children in third world countries who have been abandoned and live in orphanages, as mentioned earlier; and I would particularly love to assist children to heal in half-way houses after being saved from child-trafficking. Child-trafficking is one thing that really pains my heart.

Any kind of sexual abuse towards children in any country really pains my heart. I look at my dear little child and can’t help but wonder how many children out there are so similar to her in absolute joy and innocence expressed freely on a daily basis – a child’s joy is just simply never ending and it’s a fountain of refreshment to those around her. But children out there have their trust and confidence in this world, not to mention the trust and confidence in themselves, eroded by somebody usually close to them, promising them that ‘this is special – don’t tell anybody – this is just between you and me’.

There is a large spectrum of sexual abuse. There is violent rape of a child in wartimes to the point where they can no longer walk – on one end of the spectrum; and on the other end, there is the paradigm in the beginning of its inception, being created by the media and fashion lines that like to have their model children pose sensually, with lips and legs parted. (If those kinds of poses aren’t sexual, then I definitely don’t know what kind of world we’re living in).

This entire spectrum really bothers me, frustrates me and saddens me. In my own personal life, I go to great lengths to ensure my daughter lives in a world that is as natural and child-friendly as possible. If that means I no longer choose to watch music videos on a weekend so that she is not exposed to overly sexual dancing and breasts and legs exposed like it means nothing, then so be it. That might be seen as a little bit extreme by other parents, but I never cared too much what other people thought of me and I’m not about to start now.

I will say however, that this blog entry was really difficult for me to write. I was asked what makes me angry about the world and I really felt that, unlike being angry at the use of leather in luxury cars or the fact that Muslim women cover themselves from head to toe (by the way, that totally does not bother me – let them be already, what do you care, is my stance on that)… I felt that my particular topic was too deep, too wide, too all-encompassing. It would tread on many toes, it would offend many people who really are passionate about all the other things I have mentioned, it would offend other parents.  I deleted my first few attempts and, in frustration, I went to bed without a second thought. I just couldn’t do it. I would write about the next thing that bothers me about the world.

But I woke up today and felt that there was a reason why I had to share what I had to share. My mind defied me: So you tread on a few metaphorical toes and somehow those toes are worth saving from offence over bringing awareness to somebody out there about children suffering sexual abuse all over the world?

 

And it’s been awhile…

Me pulling silly face - March 2016 - cropped slightly edited 50 per cent

I have been challenged to tell my story. But the amount of times I have been prompted to share a little about myself on different sites and stopping short because I am completely frozen, I could not even tell you. Even on my Facebook profile, you will not see statistics such as the high school I attended or the places I have worked at.

I have a tendency to overwhelm myself very easily and this often leads me to not sharing unless I absolutely have to, and I write this with a laugh at myself. I suppose I am not the only one in this world that feels overwhelmed by having to share “a little about yourself”. After all, how could we possibly ever share ‘just a little’? And won’t ‘just a little’ undervalue the entirety of life that has been lived? And won’t ‘just a little’ very quickly define you in the reader’s mind?

I am a rebel at heart and have always refused to be defined by…. anything. I do not wish to meet your standards. I strive to either exceed them, or if I deem it’s best, I keep walking and not bother at all. So most times when I am met with the “share a little about yourself” concept, I tend to deem it best to just keep walking and not bother at all!

But I have been challenged to jump out of my shell and simply share no bars held. This is something I have slowly learned the confidence to do in recent years but I still need a little push. Well, I do not tend to refuse a challenge so here I am:

I was born on the other side of the world and whisked up into a plane at the age of 8 months to live life in Australia. I am of South-American heritage, which means that many aspects of my personality, knowledge and expectations are heavily shaped by South-American values that were taught me by my South-American parents. But on the whole, I feel very Australian. This can be very confusing to my own husband, let alone other people *giggle*.

I was brought up in a strictly religious home, which also shapes a lot of my values. Whether it means I have shed some of what I learned in childhood or kept some of the principles taught to me, it certainly means that once again I can be a little ‘different’ to the general crowd.

For example, I find there are certain topics of conversation that I am simply not interested in – not because I am cold or aloof or antisocial, as might be the impression given – but because I find a lot of conversations to be extremely trivial and it just makes me want to fall asleep. I don’t care about your latest shopping expedition, I want to know about your latest personal or spiritual discovery. And when you tell me about a travel experience, I don’t care about the great hotels you stayed at, I want to know about the sunsets you’ve experienced and the delectable food you held in your mouth and the sounds you heard whilst walking down the sandy or cobblestone streets.

Not many people share so intimately however, so it is often that I am left thirsting in social settings. Often I end up retreating to a corner, if not into myself. I am sorry if this is offensive to some people who have witnessed this about me. It’s not that I am uninterested – I am just too deeply interested.

Join me for a one on one coffee date though and you will see my eyes light up and hear me squeal and gasp and laugh at whatever it is you wish to share – tell me more, tell me more!

I was brought up in poverty. This makes me deeply appreciate everything that I have. I am not a stranger to holes in the soles of my school shoes; frozen bulk-cooked porridge in the freezer for the week; endlessly borrowing stationery and self-care products from friends at school and pretending that ‘I keep forgetting to buy new pens’ or ‘I ran out of my Impulse yesterday’. (I will never forget Camilla’s endless love & generosity). I am no stranger to hand-me-downs from family friends; ripping into a large rubbish bag full of clothes given to us was extremely exciting, and that was our version of ‘going shopping’. Living in poverty meant that as a teenager I had to create my own fashion style (from the eclectic collection of clothes in that rubbish bag) and I learned very quickly to stride into a room like I didn’t care that the preppy girls were wearing their newest and latest trends.

(I really did care).

This experience of poverty created a deep sense of uniqueness and individuality in me and I am forever thankful that Life gave me the lessons that it did. I once had an old friend from high school bump into me 10 years after we graduated and she gushed at me, telling me that I had been her role model and her inspiration in our high school years – that all she had ever wanted to do was emulate the utmost confidence I portrayed. This warmed my heart incredibly because I had equally admired her – her quiet and steadfast being, her elegant and immaculate self-presentation, and her strong, ambitious life goals. I shared with her that I had been just as much a bundle of nerves underneath it all, as the next teenager had been. And that I dealt with the nerves with the great facade she saw me expose to the world.

But they say practice makes perfect and I do like to think that that sense of confidence in my own unique individuality led me to survive the world outside of school, well into university, career, marriage and general adulthood responsibility.

At times this confidence has been a little over-confident and I have made many mistakes in my life – some of them have been really huge. I am continually humbled by looking back at my life and seeing that I never really knew it all – if at all – and that people are softer and more forgiving than we think that they might be. I personally believe that mistakes can be the crown jewels of life because it is these that help you to grow and to change and to move onwards and upwards to live a more enriching life.

I became Mother 6 years ago and my little girl is, hands-down, the light of my life. She is my driving force for everything that I do now, and her existence gives me joy and hope and courage in a way that I’d never had these before. My husband and I were infinitely blessed with her arrival because she proved to bring us together during a time that we had been living tumultuous seperate lives. We are a gorgeous little family that are really close-knit and we somehow just ‘need’ each other and this nucleus vibration is precious to me.

That is a little bit of my story. And perhaps reading the above might give you an insight as to why I just tend to keep myself contained most of the time. (Those who know me well will say that I couldn’t possibly ever be ‘contained’!) When I am prompted to share… I really do share! It’s the South-American in me 😉

Other than my journey described above, I am the oldest of 7 children in my family and I am a creative mind. I enjoy reading and writing. I enjoy singing. I have God in my life and He helps me to see the bigger , wider and the deeper. I am a deeply loving person and if you’ve chosen to be in my life, I hope that you know how much you are loved and appreciated by me. There’s not much you have to do – you just have to be kind towards me, and know that I am not as horrible as I might seem sometimes 🙂 But above all, you just have to be YOU. Even if you don’t like me, I will eventually love you for even that, your truth!

I am passionate about people, and our right to be unique individuals who are loved and learning to love. I am passionate about everyone’s life being their own journey and I love hearing about it, and getting to know what makes you tick (if you so wish to share).

At the point that I feel I have shared too much, I will love you and leave you.

Enjoy.

~Diosa