I am seldom negative. And I try really hard to silence those voices in favor of more optimistic uplifting ones. But this piece of creative writing begged to be penned.
I have always thought that ideally family would provide a safe nest for its members, a haven from the stress and pressures of the outside world.
In the bosom of family, we should find respite and solace.
But the nature of family life is sometimes so complicated and contrary to its genuine ideal purpose; it can be derisive and deleterious in such an insidious yet substantial way that it stealthily (and sometimes overtly) pummels a person’s psyche mercilessly.
Often we emerge as young adults crippled yet in the mirror we believe that all is well. We step forward and continue to invite our family to stab, bind, and otherwise drown our inner selves.
It seems to me that this is the conundrum of day-to-day life – whether interacting with family or with others.
We require connectedness. Crave it. Wither in the absence of it. Life is an insipid stone broth without it.
And yet with it?
It seems that human existence its very self is so often the cudgel with which we’re beaten and simultaneously the nested loving arms that salve that very same wound.
A mother berates a child. A best friend betrays a secret. A lover defiles us. Classmates bully. Cousins gossip. Aunts and uncles compare. Co-workers malign.
All is a cacophony of unnecessary noise that works the soul over.
It vexes me that we so often cannot find safety in each other’s arms.
Humanity sometimes doesn’t feel so humane.