Day 7 NaBloWriMo Unconditional

Unconditional

*warning… this post will jump around some. It’s hard to share something and make sense when you can’t give specifics and details. I hope you’re able to muddle through this and come out with something of value. And an additional warning, it's not a post of the pleasant kind. (This is a true story and not about anyone I've blogged about in the past.)


I love a monster. I have since I was a child, only I didn’t know he was a monster then. I trusted him. He never harmed me and all that I can remember as a child is good memory stuff. I will continue to love this monster for the rest of my life. It’s a weird feeling now though, because reality rears an ugly head.

There's no justification for what he's done. There's no reasoning to make it go away or explain it. For the past five years my family tried to help, it didn't make a difference in his mindset. Mom said she tried to be a good role model, what an adult should understand about society, but some people hang on to their behaviors like a child to a favorite toy, a sign of insecurity.

I refuse to believe a person is born this way, to do what he did. I looked into his childhood and I know it (the reason for his behavior) is somewhere in there. As a child, he was told that he couldn't do for himself, made to feel weak and that society owes him.

Society owes him...

I don't figure society owes me, except for some things that are often taken for granted, freedom, equitable treatment, due process.... but society Owes him, because he's different.

No, I dare not go into the details. I told myself I wouldn't and I promised my family; I can't break that promise. Yes, this post is vague, but I’m offering as much as I can. And still I’m taking a chance, because those who know the situation could be upset with me sharing this.

Because my parents took on the burden for the past 5 years, I have gone through this with them. To a much lesser degree, but I’m there with them, hurting for them, understanding the situation, supporting my parents, all of this turmoil because of him. Yet another lesson my parents have taught me, you help someone, even and especially in the lowest moments, when they need it the most, when you don’t even know if it’s right to help, but you do it with all your heart.

I'm spoiled, you see. I come from a loving, normal, happy childhood with parents who are still married and in a couple of years will reach the golden milestone of marriage. That's not to say I lead a great life after childhood, but I learned how to trust and I learned that trust makes you very vulnerable. I also learned that judging someone can often smack you in the face.

Maybe he never learned trust and defied society's rules. He created a self-tailored bubble world where, "if it feels right, it can't be wrong." (Lord, if that is right, chocolate can never be wrong... someone tell my tummy that.)

Society has come crashing down on the bubble. He's on his way to a very small room with a lock. And I still love him. I'm angry at him. Angry because actions can be controlled. Angry because I feel like he throttled the breath of memory, of my childhood memories with him, and tossed them into the garbage. Angry because somehow society messed up.

After all, if society claims the power to define and judge, society is equally responsible for the childhood that ruined his life in the end. We all failed him. And I still love him.

Understanding is no longer an option, because it happened and I can't wash away his past and his actions. Judgment is not for me to determine; peers have done so. I'm realizing I can never be in a jury. I wouldn't want to judge someone. It's the pearly gates and closets of my own mistakes, which tells me not to judge.

I'd rather leave judgment to God and if He can forgive and still love, shouldn't I be able to and allowed to as well?