Writing therapy

Here I am, 45, married, quite hapilly so, mom to 8, cout ‘em, 8 lovely purrfect furchildren, and yet, it’s time for bed in the middle of the week and I’m alone. 

I have family, none close.  I have friends, a few that I’d consider close but they live far away.  I have children who are of no mind that I’m worth their time or energy.  That’s ok.  They have their own lives to live as they see fit.

I don’t like that my husband, who is my best friend in the world has to spend 5 days a week 700 miles away from me for a paycheck.  Granted, with the many crashes our American economy has taken of late, I’m grateful he has a job, a steady paycheck and we are not as yet in danger of losing our home.  Count us among the lucky few that have managed that feat thus far.

I adore my critters, I would live with them in my van if it came to it.  I’d not be giving them up for anything.  They are better to me than my children ever were, maybe, I to them as well. 

I live in a sleepy suburb of a sleepy northern California city.  I have a hum drum job in retail.  I am grateful for it too, as it gets me out of the house and among people 3 days a week.  The job is in a field I have a passion for and that’s natural health, again, I’m lucky.

I have been hearing a lot of the nasty “C” word lately.  More than anyone would like.  An aquaintance of mine, through the store has just been sentanced to hospice at a very young age of early 50’s, another’s newly wedded husband has been diagnosed and it doesn’t look promising, yet closer to home, both my mother and my aunt are survivors, my grandmother, passed now from the big “C”.  My step sister and my step father now too, the bug “C”.  My natural father has had his bout with it and survived.  It seems to be everywhere, every kind and it’s becoming a prominent part of my life.

I study natural health.  I am passionate about what we’re doing to ourselves with our poisoned food, our genetically modified frankenfood, our chemically doused food, our not even food food.  I am passionate about our environment and what we can do to change things. 

I am often on my soapbox, to little or no avail.  Even my oldest daughter says “everyone has the right to live the way they want to”.  Ok, but at what cost?  Really?  No one has to be responsible for their choices and how it affects the bigger picture?  No one has to be responsible about caring for the masses if that’s not what makes them money?

I don’t understand.  I’m brought back to Ghandi’s quote “Be the change you want to see in the world”.  Ok, so I am.   Is it helping yet?  I suppose I’ve made a very few people open their eyes just a little.  Many just close them again and quickly.  Most tell themselves “but I like hot dogs and cheap food, so it’s ok”., again, no need to look out for the greater good.

Have we really come so far in our “freedom” in America that we’re all a bunch of selfish, self serving, self centered bastards?  Yes.  I believe, ladies and gentlemen, we’re there.  We will be our own undoing and we’ll take everyone down with us, the whole world.