A Union of Love or Sacrifice

“No happier post than this I ask,

To live her laureate all my life.

On wings of love uplifted free,

And by her gentleness made great,

I’ll teach how noble man should be

To match with such a lovely mate”

“There are rules for all our actions, even down to sleeping with a good grace. If woman owes her being to the comfort and profit of man, ’tis highly reasonable that she should be careful and diligent to content and please him.” I know this point is up for considerable debate and most women seem to think that the thought of foregoing their career and social advancements is validation for a sloth like existence hidden behind anger and discontent. Maybe it is jealousy that enters into the mother’s psyche making her believe that in nurturing this new life that she may be missing out on something. Isn’t that what takes away from our experience of loving our new born, a fear of missing out? Traditional roles are so out of sync from today’s reality it is no wonder we are experiencing a surge of uncertainty and pain. Who guides us? Who heals us? Who is waiting for us with loving arms when we attempt to do something brave and fail? Why do we feel this need to protect the deranged or is it because we have become so self righteously entitled that we failed to notice when our children went astray. The monster inside of us is being fed by our own securities and desires to fit in.

We have forever believed that marriage should be a union of love and romance and nothing else should ever come into play. Like most most encounters fueled by intense desire and lust we jump in with both feet and refuse to come up for air. We don’t want to listen to those that know us best because we are happiest being desired, even if that desire is misplaced. What happens when two come together out of growing bored of being along? They engage in a whirlwind affair that leaves nothing undamaged in it’s wake. We bring in our family into this web of deceit and lies trying to convince all that what we are experiencing is true. We put on our Cinderella masks out of fear of being accepted. We wear our brightest smiles like they are jewels and convince all in our presence of our character. What we witness is our fear of societal pressures and being lost amongst our own best judgement and loss of direction that comes when we aren’t entirely convinced of our way.

When I think about the trouble that I face in my own marriage it has brought forth some ideas quite clear. Marriage is more of an investment on each other’s behalf that says I see something in you that nobody else has yet to see. The idea that a man would rather work then stay home and care for his family being one. In a world where materiality is running rampant there is no choice but for the man to work. Women’s liberation dictates that a woman must also work too. That no good woman would sit around the house caring for her house and family that just would never be done. She must be so poorly educated to decide that this is the best option for her. Speaking as a woman who has both seen success in both the workforce and secondary education I see this has being the farthest thing from the truth. Although my husband can be heard saying, “I wish I could sit around all day watching movies and snuggling,” what most don’t hear is his admittance that without me none of this would even be possible.

I have never shied away from doing honest work to ensure my bills were. I know what it feels like to be transitioning from job to job with little sleep and little hopes for a day off. I have worked my fingers to the bones and my under eyes could carry the baggage to last me through the week. The idea of needing a man to be successful never entered m mind. What did enter my thoughts though was what my dad used to tell me when I was younger was that it was easier when you had two. Two people contributing to a household would almost guarantee a successful life wouldn’t it? I guess that would determine how you valuate your own success. when I look at the way some of these children are being raised I am terrified of the life that my son is going to have. I don’t want him to kiss the amount of toads I had to in order to get to where I am at. I was choosey for a reason and found a man hat most embodied all the great qualities that reminded me of my Dad. There are these horror stories of parents binging on drugs while their children are in the next room, illicit sex with multiple partners, locking their children in cages, violence, abuse filth. Was this who we were destined to become?

Marriage in it’s simplest form should be a commitment between two people to ride the waves of life with. It shouldn’t be such a tit for tat relationships as both partners are essential to making the family feel whole. If one is hard at work providing financial stability then the other is hard at work providing emotional well being. There are so many who are reacting to this imminent lock down as something as a hell on Earth. This is not hell but only the beginning of what an over worked ego can do to the mind. My fear is that for myself the more that coms out of how bored that some get the more I am embarrassed and ashamed of my place in this time line. My hope is to somehow break through the stigma by doing all that I can to ensure the mental health of my family is steadily on the rise. I don’t go out. I rarely go out. The only time that I am out and about is for those appointments that agree deemed necessary. Like flue shots and cavities. The only time that I have left my four walls was to voluntarily take place in what some see as modern day acceptable forms of torture. Maybe I don’t feel the depressed state that most find themselves in because I keep myself busy from the time I open my eyes. Sometimes it is harder to get the day started but I know if I don’t insanity will ensue.

The challenge I present to you is what are you doing to make yourself more interesting? How re you investing yourself? If you don’t buy into the value of you why on Earth would anybody else. The majority of us aren’t born with a lucky horse shoe up our ass and the feasibility of us being able to survive on doing nothing is slim to no chance. My passion has come to me in the form of the books I read. I thirst in the knowledge of the lives that have come before me where I am hungry to learn all that I can. In absence of authenticity and truth I find comfort in between the pages of hardships realized and then lost but never forgotten. There is something magical in reading the words of another. The imagery that awakens your breaths life into the lives that have since passed. All of the a sudden life makes sense again that is only made possible by this journey built for two. Sure in addition to assisting in my son’s development and nurturing his growth I also get to take a deeper look into mine. Although I appreciate the beauty that we have come to know in femininity and grace I also take my role seriously into something more. Why after carefully housing a new life to be would we corrupt it with anybody’ else’s wisdom and free thought? What is more important than the treasure we have been gifted in our arms? If our mates are the half of us that works tirelessly to protect those that he leaves inside his home why as the one entrusted with this responsibility do anything but. Where is the pride we used to have in being a women strong enough to care for ourselves and our homes? Are we too embarrassed to admit that we have that part of our lives under control or does it make us seem to old for our age? Is it our age that bothers us our what the media dictates to be youthful? I am proud of where I am and proud to be a mother. I couldn’t imagine letting my house get into such disarray that there are things living other than my pets in our wake. Should we really be celebrating our lack of decorum and civility at the expense of what is most sacred our homes? There is at least irony to be seen in the way we mock the lockdown in the sense that for some this has always been their hell. Some lives were valued nothing more than years of starvation and torture that went against their will. At least then their sacrifice was far us to live. I wonder if they would have lived differently if they only would have known. For all whose lives were reduced to this they had no choice, they had no free will, for some they were even beaten or killed for even breathing. Yet their lives, their sacrifice means nothing to us now because we are even uncertain of their very existence. For all this freedom that we have been granted it is comical to see how it is best we engage.

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