Culture Shock

I can remember moving to the Jackson, MS, area as I dated and then less than a year later, married, Curtis. The trees are so gorgeous, so tall. And I marveled.

I also began to suffer with the chains of Christianity, and I was horrified as I found a job with State Farm Insurance. Men who were adjustors were very racist, more so than sexist…..and when I realized this thing, my eyes began to be open to two things: how controlled many of us, mostly women, are within the Christian World and how backward most history had been taught. I was not educated in the proper paradigm. It was definitely male chauvinistic and decidedly racist.

Back then, around 1989-1990, I even asserted I didn’t know what to call myself, but I wasn’t going to be a Christian anymore yet I didn’t know how to be anyone else but a Christian woman, highly trained to stay home, have kids, and support the system from the home all the way through the church/school structure. So I did that, faithfully, for years. I told Curtis and others in our small church at the time how I experienced culture shock as a Texas Kid when I made that move.

The next time, it was reverse culture shock. We moved back to Texas, we built a house I didn’t want but didn’t say much because we weren’t going to have a house payment which was a bit heavenly on a single income, and realized through house church experiences how couples married who were mixed race, experienced deep racism. This stuff is so hidden in plain sight.

Things like racism and sexism are always looked at as problems of the past in Christian settings. I just realized this thing. How funny. I know the King from a distance, and Christians are nothing like the true Him. But is He God?

I have a suspicion he would say no. And that makes me smile today because I keep telling people in my family He is human. He is not ethereal, not nearly as much as people around me would like Him to be, and that is where my crying inside stays. I want to show people around me that there had been a person and her name was Cara Ann Beaty.

She was meant to be me, telling the world, I don’t think the King wants to be called God. I don’t think He is watching US the way we have thought he would. I don’t think he forgives what many people think He forgives. I just remember being at the YMCA at my trial by fire, with tears dropping, because He kept forgiving my family their treatment of me, and I am grateful. How did I know that? Don’t ask me; I never knew me.

Now, I just realized and for the last 20 years, I am in the Culture Shock of Information Technologies. So I’m by and large leaving the world system now though I am maintaining a few social media outlets carefully. Why? It was something my daughter said. “I feel safe….here”

I’ve never felt safe. You don’t feel safe when your brother drops dead twice, your dad almost had to declare bankruptcy, and you just knew to be as perfect a kid as you could be to stay out of trouble, and hell. You raise kids that way too.

I’ve never felt safe to be me. Yet, since my tenth child was born, I have gone through a lot of embarrassing things and can say NOW, some years later, I begin again and am choosing to direct my life into a place where I feel safe.

I can tell story after story of trying to find myself in this world, and how I”ve failed.

I hope my true love life finds me someday now, for I found myself finally and I am choosing to stop mourning the rejection of me by so many things, ways, people, and places.

I am grateful. This isn’t my whole story. It is a lot of it, though. I found myself telling my ninth child today as we enjoyed an outing together how I am sorry it is hard being a sibling in a large family. I don’t know if it was this hard without the Social Media/Gaming lifestyles my kids grapple with. I remember after the internet came forth, I had friends finally who were like me and that was a message board. I overused it and people still think I’m mentally unsound. So I look forward to not being what I was, which I don’t even know what it was that I was and I now…do not care. That’s good.

Being an empath means one must choose which exactly things and people and etc one will care about. I didn’t have choices before this year. I’m not going to explain that item because my whole life explains it.

I have the ability to look back and only remember the love. I am grateful for my empathetic nature today, if nothing else. I simply choose to forget…………

Published by Cara

Author, Mother, Spiritualist

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