Evaluating Ideals

I recently was forwarded an email with several pictures attached of those who have chosen to alter their bodies. The message attached was essentially "Thank God they're not our kids." What, exactly, does that mean? Does God judge us based upon our outward appearance or does He look at our hearts? He's a creative God, isn't He? So why would His creatures be any less creative? I certainly can't speak for what motivated these people to get piercings or tattoos. That's between them and God. I have tattoos and piercings. Perhaps mine are simply more mainstream and therefore accepted by the dominant culture. But should they be?

It makes me angry to think that as Christians we perpetuate society's ideals without critically evaluating them. We even fall back on the Bible as justification for our opinions. For example "our body is a temple of the Holy Spirit." (I Corinthians 6:19) Yes, it is. Here the Apostle Paul is talking about sexual immorality, however. And how many Christians still choose to pierce their ears or color their hair? Or get facelifts or liposuction? Or drink and smoke? Or eat fast food five days a week?

Here's another. "Do not cut your bodies for the dead or put tattoo marks on yourselves." (Leviticus 19:28) The context is not considered. These things were done in pagan ceremonies and to "secure the attention of their deity" (NIV footnote for Leviticus 21:5). So do we just assume that everyone who gets piercings and tattoos are doing it for religious reasons? And what about those Christians who get tattoos of crosses or fishes to make a statement of their faith?

Seems to me that our time as Christians would be better spent challenging the status quo instead of perpetuating it. Even in Christianity there is no cookie-cutter style and that makes some people extremely uncomfortable. We want to be able to recognize brothers and sisters by how they look instead of how they act. Wonder what that's all about?

Leaving

Why is it so difficult to following through with leaving the husband? Neither he nor the niece we've been raising really care about what we're going through. Things keep going from bad to worse. She's a bitch, using people for whatever serves her purposes. There's no give and take, only grabbing for whatever she can get her hands on. She demeans and belittles us so that she can feel better about herself. No respect. And oh so narcisstic, angling for what can best suit her purposes. She's sweet enough to make your teeth hurt one minute and the next, she's so vicious you feel like your teeth were kicked in. You give and give but every once in a while lose your temper, verbally assault her, dish out what she's given. All anyone remembers are the bad things you've said and done. Never amazed at the sacrifices you've made so she could have a better life, let alone grateful. And he's so whipped by her that he continually allows himself to be taken in by her batting eyelashes and incessent wheedling. "She's had such a hard life," he says. That justifies giving her whatever she asks for and condones whatever she does. Neither are capable of accepting their part in whatever bad takes place in their lives. We're the easy scapegoat. And when they join forces, it's enough to make me want to die, or get drunk, or cut, and sever my losses and run like hell.

So I begin to make plans for my life that don't include them. And as I do, I'm struck by the major changes I will face. Changes that they won't have to do deal with. Why should I be the one to move, leaving behind wonderful, treaused animal companions who have been a source of life and comfort for years? Why should I have to think about not making ends meet? Why should I give up the yard with the view that takes your breath away? Why should I be the one to reinvent myself? Their lives will continue as if untouched. Perhaps even better. She won't have anyone to interfere by setting limits and boundaries. He won't have anyone to be responsible to or nag him about his drinking. And the effects of the abuse, which cause instability within us and rapid switching of alters, is the perfect excuse for them to say, "See. It wasn't us...she was crazy!"

What will we really be missing? Intimacy and partnership does not exist in the marriage. There is no emotional or spiritual support available from the husband. We're verbally attacked often. He has pulled away through drinking, work, and his family. There's little cooperation in raising this child we've taken in. There won't be any mother-daughter conversations because they've never existed. Whatever offsping she produces will barely acknowledge me as grandmother, if at all. Her future spouse will view me as a shrew since that is how she paints me. I will continually feel like an outsider looking in on their father-daughter relationship. So why do we stay? He provides a good home. Makes sure that a roof is kept over our head and food on the table. There are clothes to wear. He's a good provider. I don't look at him as a meal ticket. It's just nice to know that he's responsible in that way. He wouldn't be fair, however, should a divorce ensue. He'd try to take everything he could get.

So other parts raise cautions. Get scared of the changes. Fear of not making it on our own keeps us from moving forward towards freedom and chain us to this place and these people. Still others move deeper into hopelessness and despair, realizing that the only out seems to be death. Those parts aren't able to survive where we are and certainly can't survive out there on their own. There are too many dissenting opinions so we're left frozen, right where we are. Our tongues stuck to the flagpole, unable to rip it loose for fear of the pain and loss.

Can we hold out for another few years until we complete school and get a job - just to be self-sufficient? Can we wait until the older two pets finally pass on so when we leave, we can start again? How do we traverse the next 730 some odd days without it becoming so bad that we wind up dead instead of free? We are invisibly bound to one another. How long 'til those are broken?

Songs that Speak

Alanis Morisette has really been speaking to me of late. Not the new stuff, but the old stuff. She has a way of telling it like it is. She doesn't pull any punches. You hear exactly what she's experiencing and she's not afraid of letting you know it. One of her songs, You Oughta Know, calls to something deep within me. Sure, there have been a lot of guys who led me on, got what they wanted, then dumped me, but it seems more current and certainly deeper than those petty high school hookups. I've come to realize that the husband is having an affair. Not with another woman. No, his mistress is a golden amber liquid which promises to alleviate his pain and allow him to hide from the world. He says he loves us, the wife, but is unable to make the choice between alcohol's tantalizing call and us. According to Rush, he has made his choice, hasn't he. So, here's to him and his lover:

You Oughta Know
I want you to know that I'm happy for you

I wish nothing but the best for you both

An older version of me

Is she perverted like me

Would she go down on you in a theater

Does she speak eloquently?

And would she have your baby

I'm sure she'd make a really excellent mother

Chorus:
'Cause the love that you gave that we made

wasn't able to make it enough for you to be open wide, no

And every time you speak her name

Does she know how you told me you'd hold me

Until you died, 'til you died

But you're still alive

And I'm here to remind you

Of the mess you left when you went away

It's not fair to deny me

Of the cross I bear that you gave to me

You, you, you oughta know

You seem very well, things look peaceful

I'm not quite as well, I thought you should know

Did you forget about me Mr. Duplicity

I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner

It was a slap in the face how quickly I was replaced

Are you thinking of me when you fuck her

Chorus:
'Cause the love that you gave that we made

wasn't able to make it enough for you to be open wide, no

And every time you speak her name

Does she know how you told me you'd hold me

Until you died, 'til you died

But you're sill alive

And I'm here to remind you

Of the mess you left when you went away

It's not fair to deny me

Of the cross I bear that you gave to me

You, you, you oughta know

'Cause the joke that you laid in the bed that was me

And I'm not gonna fade

As soon as you close your eyes and you know it

And every time I scratch my nails down someone else's back

I hope you feel it...well can you feel it

Alanis Morissette, Jagged Little Pill, 1995

The next one could be a multiples theme song. Or at least mine. Like a diamond, there are a myriad of facets that make up the brilliance of who I am in my entirety. Certainly it brings confusion to those around me, but take out one little part and I wouldn't be who I am. Instead, I would be flawed and less than what I was created to be. Every part is invaluable.

Bitch

I hate the world today
You're so good to me
I know but I can't change
Tried to tell you
But you look at me like maybe
I'm an angel underneath
Innocent and sweet
Yesterday I cried
Must have been relieved to see
The softer side
I can understand how you'd be so confused
I don't envy you
I'm a little bit of everything
All rolled into one

Chorus:
I'm a bitch, I'm a lover
I'm a child, I'm a mother
I'm a sinner, I'm a saint
I do not feel ashamed
I'm your hell, I'm your dream
I'm nothing in between
You know you wouldn't want it any other way

So take me as I am
This may mean
You'll have to be a stronger man
Rest assured that
When I start to make you nervous
And I'm going to extremes
Tomorrow I will change
And today won't mean a thing

Chorus:

I'm a bitch, I'm a lover

I'm a child, I'm a mother

I'm a sinner, I'm a saint

I do not feel ashamed

I'm your hell, I'm your dream

I'm nothing in between

You know you wouldn't want it any other way

Just when you think, you got me figured out
The season's already changing
I think it's cool, you do what you do
And don't try to save me

Chorus:

I'm a bitch, I'm a tease
I'm a goddess on my knees
When you hurt, when you suffer
I'm your angel undercover
I've been numb, I'm revived
Can't say I'm not alive
You know I wouldn't want it any other way

Meredith Brooks, Blurring the Edges, 1997