Yes, I AM an Idealist.
Some have called me naïve. Many have laughed…in that horrible scornful way…and say “Leesa, you have no idea. And really, you’re a bit of a fool.”
They say “Leesa you have no idea how crappy people can be. You have no idea how things ‘really’ are. You are unrealistic. You are not seeing reality. You should work on that.”
And every time, it has been when I have suggested;
that war doesn’t have to happen,
that parents don’t have to scream at their kids (let alone worse things),
that addicts don’t have to ruin their bodies to feel joy,
that people don’t have to hang themselves because they feel so alone,
that people don’t have to try to destroy their partner because now their an ‘ex’,
that people don’t have to be hungry, homeless, alone,
that adults who were abused as children don’t have to have it ruin their whole lives….
and so much more.
But no…apparently I’m a fool.
Well dearest reader today, for reasons too lengthy to explain, I am over it so…
My name is Leesa.
I was born in 1963 in Australia, to a woman who for reasons unknown didn’t keep me and left me in a baby orphanage.
At three months I was adopted into a family with a mother who for the next nine years beat me and everyday told me how her ‘real daughter’ (that had died at 6 months) should have lived because she was loved and wanted whereas I was the unwanted of two mothers. And stupid, ugly, useless, and the cause of all the anger emotional suffering and physical maladies she experienced.
There the experience of a catholic orphanage wasn’t great but it was less painful than being at mums. But the abandonment, the sense of failure and shame was to stay with me for over three decades.
At ten they turned up and said they were taking me home and they did.
But mum was angrier and bitter and her hatred of me quadrupled as did the violence and words.
One night when I was twelve the beating was too bad to think of a repeat so I packed my teddy and t-shirt in my school bag and went to the police station and said I didn’t want to go home. They asked why so I took off my school dress and showed them.
I was made a ward of the state for my own protection. Back to the orphanage and all such experiences.
At 13 I was ‘saved’ and for the next five years praised the lord and fought off a man and lost so he sexually took advantage of me until I was 17. Finally I told the pastor because the man broke my finger when I was trying to get away. I hadn’t said anything for the past four years because his wife was like my dream mother and I knew her whole family including her three little girls would be torn asunder. And they were but I didn’t know what else to do.
Then I fell in love with a person at work. Who wasn’t in the Revivalist Centre. And worse wasn’t a man. It was an accident…I didn’t’ know I was committing a horrendous sin against god, Jesus, mums and dads everywhere, normality, the whole world.! Yet again I’d failed.
Just about to turn eighteen I looked at this God of fundamentalist Christians and saw the comparison to Hitler, and my mother, so I left. But I still thought it was true. So I sat waiting for the second coming and my guaranteed path to the eternal burning fire and pondered my constant failings…
…and sank slowly into a pit of self-hatred…
to be continued…