I’m Sad Today


Forgive me while I steer away for a moment from my insignificant woes as an unlearned housewife/SAHM…

I have intentionally refrained thus far from posting about the recent tragedy in Connecticut.  I know that there is no way I could put into words my feelings on what has happened quite as eloquently as so many have before me.  I’m also aware that there’s really not anything that I can say about the role that this and so many more tragedies have and will continue to play on what our humanity has in store.  But I do have feelings, I do have thoughts, and I think it’s important to release them…

I cried – a lot – watching the news on Friday.  Those children were my Doodle; those teachers, my teachers; that principal, mine.  The tears shed by so many holding their little ones closer than ever before, they were my tears.  As were the tears of those unable to hold their babies once more.

I’m reminded quite often of the connection that all people share.  I’m reminded regularly how we all laugh, we all love, we all have follies, we all cry – we’re all humans.  From the most demented to the most pure, we are all humans.  We’re all part of the same chemistry experiment, we all have the same stuff in us.

Obviously, that doesn’t mean that I think we’re all the same.  The subtle differences in us are what make us unique.  They’re the little bits that react with each other to form friendships, rivalries, love, and hate.  The large differences are what separate us from people we deem monsters or saints.  But we’re all made up of the same stuff.  We all have all of it in us.  It’s our choice to nurture the parts that we want to display and to stifle or ignore the parts we want to disassociate with.

It saddens me that we are currently witnessing more and more often members of our humanity choosing to display monstrous qualities.  Murder, rape, theft, arson, hate crimes…  It’s easy to blame crumbling economies, failed policies, corrupt media, gods, or whatever else people like to blame.  And it’s easy to say that it’s always been like this, we just have so much more access to seeing it with mass media and social networking available to so many and in so many forms.  That’s the easy part.

The hard part is realizing that even if this is how it’s always been, or even if these factors that are out of so many people’s control are why it’s rising, this is what we’re being served.  This is what it is.  And even with all of the good that many try to surround themselves with, there’s only so much we can do to shield ourselves from the bad.

I look at my Doodle playing, laughing, kissing me.  I’m on a constant plight to overwhelm myself by molding him into the beautiful being he’ll turn into, the amazing man I saw him become the moment he was born.  I want nothing but the very best for him, nothing but the happiest of times, the sweetest of treats, the purest of loves.  It’s not that I don’t want him to have to deal with the social problems we’re witnessing on a near-daily basis, it’s that I don’t feel like he’s even a part of the humanity that all of that encompasses.  I don’t want him to have “the same stuff” in him.  The same stuff that triggers the quiet one, the nice one, the most helpful one to turn into a monster one day and ruin so much good.  I can’t see a world where he’d have that same stuff, but I also can’t see a world where he’d belong that is made up of those people.

People like the Westboro Baptist Church protesting those babies’ funerals.  “God sent the shooter.”  My Doodle has to grow up in a world where that’s a possible way for a human to be?  Your babies have to be a part of that world?  I don’t want to accept that!  I don’t want any of them to be at all aware of the horrible awful things that humans have been capable of.  I don’t want any children to grow up thinking that, given a certain set of circumstances, they could turn into monsters, too.

It gets increasingly harder to think that the good natural state of the world is stronger than the hateful and fear-mongering forces that are seemingly trying to take over.  Some days are harder than others.  I guess this is just one of those days.

I’m sad today.  I’m sad for so many people.  I’m sad for those tragedies not being publicized, I’m sad for those that are.  I’m sad for the desensitization so many of us feel when “another one” happens.  I’m sad for the people who now fear sending their children to school, for the people who will not be able to tuck their babies in tonight.  I’m sad that this isn’t the last one we’ll hear about.  And I’m sad that my Doodle and your babies will have to learn this one day.


10 responses »

    • Yeah. I just can’t see how this is the world we’re giving our children. You’re right though, I never wanted to see this. The shooting in Aurora was difficult for me being so close to us, and the drone strikes in the Middle East hitting civilians and children has been hard, but I still felt so much more removed from them than this one. But this stuff happens daily now. Or it did before but we know about it now. I don’t know, I just never want Doodle to have to know about a world like this. I’m sure it’s what a lot of parents have faced in the wake of various tragedies in the past, it’s just real to me now.

      • These mass killings have increased. We can only hope that something can and will be done so that families and the nation do not have to suffer like this again.

  1. I broke down Sunday. I made it through Friday and Saturday by trying to completely avoid my feelings, avoid the news, avoid people talking about it. I overreacted to some personal stuff and as I was raging and crying I realized… this isn’t just about me. This is about knowing that 20 families have to sleep in too-quiet homes, remember to take one less plate down for dinner. Their worlds are shattered. And it was about realizing again that my world could shatter. My daughter will be attending Kindergarten next year. That could be me. It could be illness, a car accident… my own mortality is easy to accept. Knowing I could lose my children? The hardest part of motherhood, right there. Having to let them go, because that’s life, but knowing there is even the tiniest chance they could be lost.

  2. I’ve been deliberately avoiding this stuff as much as I can. On one hand it feels totally disrespectful to the victims to neglect to “see” what happened to them. On the other hand, by dwelling I feel I run the risk of depriving my own kid of a sane mother and an accompanying happy holiday season. I think it’s similar to the post-9/11 sentiment: the best way to “win” is to carry on.
    I guess it boils down to the fact that we are living in a hair-trigger society (and I seriously mean nothing by that – it’s just the best phrase for the sentiment). I can only see it getting worse. For the rest of us, I think we can only try to breathe, raise our kids right, and try as hard as we can not to dwell for too long.
    I’ve been reminded of that scene in American Beauty, where the character Ricky Fitts is overcome by all the beauty he sees in the world. Only in this case, it’s reversed. I think we all have to try to see the beauty through the horror and hold on to that.

    • And you’ve got your little bun depending on pretty steady hormones in that oven, too! 🙂 And that’s about the whole of it. I want to focus on good so that Doodle can think for as long as he can that the hardest parts of life are waiting for the cookies to come out of the oven or rinsing the shampoo out of his hair.

  3. “The world is indeed full of peril and in it there are many dark places. But still there is much that is fair. And though in all lands, love is now mingled with grief, it still grows, perhaps, the greater.”

    -JRR Tolkien, The Lord Of The Rings

    • 🙂 I like to think he’s right. Most days I do. Doodle’s smiles today though, I just don’t know that I’ll ever be ready for him to learn about those dark places.

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